Sophie's Path (12 page)

Jack sighed. “And you'll give me the car seat?”

“Sure.”

“Well,
I'm
not sure,” he replied.

“Tell you what,” Sophie suggested. “Let's walk her down to Grandy's Groomers and have her checked out. We can get an appointment at the vet for shots and a checkup. Then we can go to the pet store to buy whatever else she needs. I'll pay.”

Frenchie stretched in Jack's arms, sticking her paws straight out and touching the side of Jack's chest, next to his heart.

“Deal.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

G
RANDY
'
S
G
ROOMERS
WAS
next door to Maddie Barzonni's café. Sarah had told Jack that she took Beau to Grandy's on Friday afternoons. Beau was a big golden retriever with a penchant for digging. Jack was certain Frenchie wouldn't need grooming more than once a month.

Grandy suspected Frenchie was about two years old. She was underfed, but after inspection, Grandy pronounced her healthy. Still, she agreed she should be checked out by a veterinarian to make sure she didn't have worms or any other conditions. Grandy recommended a vet and gave Jack the number, then Jack set an appointment for a grooming on Monday. Even without a bath and haircut, Jack pronounced Frenchie terminally cute.

Afterward, Jack, Sophie and Frenchie drove straight to the pet store.

“I'll get the cart,” Jack said as Sophie carried Frenchie into the store.

“Hey, would you look at this? The dogs can wander freely. No leashes,” Jack said. Sophie set Frenchie down and a wirehaired terrier sidled up to her for a sniff. Frenchie barked and hid behind Jack's legs.

“Okay. In the cart you go,” Jack declared. Sophie laughed.

That tinkling laugh. He wished she wouldn't do that. It made it harder for him to keep his emotions straight. He'd been very angry with her up until a few hours ago.

Now he was confused with elation, guilt, joy and anxiety. He couldn't help wondering if Aleah would have liked to have a little dog like Frenchie. He swallowed bitterly. She was so young and her life had ended so needlessly.

“She needs a leash,” Sophie said, interrupting his grim thoughts.

“Yes,” he replied quickly.

“And a collar,” Sophie said. Frenchie put her paws on the rail as if she'd often been in shopping carts.

Jack wondered what Frenchie's life had been like before she'd come into his. “What's the name of your...friend...who gave Frenchie to you?”

“Jeremy.”

“Did he have her since she was a puppy?”

“No. All he told me was that he met her while he was a kennel tech in another town.”

“Kennel tech?”

“He scooped poop.” Sophie smiled again, somehow making the fluorescent lighting fade.

How'd she do that?

“I wonder if I could get him a part-time job at Grandy's,” Sophie mused while squeezing a stuffed hamburger and bun toy.

“Don't business owners have rules about, er, well...” he began nervously.

“You mean hiring drug users,” she finished for him.

“Yeah. All my employees have to pass a drug test in order to be hired. That's a huge barrier. Even the idea of it could upset him, make him feel ashamed. Who knows how he'd react.”

“You're right, Jack. I should find something else. Like a handyman kind of thing.”

Jack took a deep breath but couldn't hold back his concern. “Sophie, even a seemingly simple repair could turn into something dangerous if Jeremy...well, you know. He could mis-wire something. Hurt himself with tools or fall from a ladder.”

“I understand your point, Jack, but if we don't give addicts a chance to become functional again, they lose all hope. Then they never recover.”

“Aleah never got a chance to recover from her injuries,” he said, sadness choking him.

Sophie's eyes were filled with understanding and compassion. The longer she held his gaze, the more his heart hurt.

“I don't know,” he said quietly, desperate to change the subject. Obliterate his memories of Aleah.

“I understand.” She cleared her throat and forced a smile. “Let's go down this aisle.”

They pulled up to the leashes. Sophie picked up a collar with rhinestones and held it in front of Frenchie's face. Frenchie barked.

Jack groaned. “Oh, no. She likes bling.”

“I'd say so.”

Jack grabbed a leash that was mostly leather with a sprinkling of rhinestones. “I suppose this goes with the collar? I can't help thinking how I'm gonna look running with her along the trail at the lake.”

“You'll live.” Sophie smiled softly. “Besides, she's a tiny dog. You can't run her like she's a Rottweiler. You'll need a pouch.”

“Huh?”

“You know, like a sling—to carry her. She can walk with you, but she won't be able to keep up with your runs. Plus, when it's hot, her paws will burn. And if it's cold, you'll have to watch her paws, as well.”

“She needs boots?”

“Don't laugh,” Sophie warned. “Those are in the next aisle.”

Jack took out the list Grandy had given him that specified the kind of food and treats he would need. He added a bed, blanket and pillow to the cart, all in pink and gray plaid—because he liked the pattern, not because it was feminine. He bought several toys, including a stuffed teddy bear bigger than Frenchie, which the little pup immediately claimed possession of by clamping her teeth around the bear's ear.

As they were checking out, Sophie whipped out her credit card, but he grabbed her wrist before she could pay. “Put it away. She's my dog now.”

“Thanks, Jack,” Sophie replied, gratitude filling her face.

Jack smiled fleetingly, dipped his head and felt a bit like the king of the world.

* * *

O
N
THE
WAY
back to the office, Frenchie fell asleep in her car seat.

“Jack, can I talk to you about something else?”

“You have a pet alligator you want me to adopt?” he joked.

Sophie laughed lightly, but her expression was serious. “I need your help for the Recovery Alliance.”

Jack stiffened. “Me? What do you need me for?”

“Eleanor has barely opened the doors and the response and need are way more than she anticipated. I was going over some specifics with her, and it seems she hasn't confirmed an umbrella liability policy for the building or the volunteers.”

Jack whipped around to face Sophie. “You're not serious.”

“I am.”

“But that's one of the first things any new business owner should settle before day one—”

Sophie held up her hand to interrupt. “I know. She knows. Eleanor said she had trouble getting insurance companies to agree to provide her with a policy because of the high-risk factor. It was more expense than she'd planned. Then things happened so quickly after the open house. Volunteers signed up. Clients flooded in. She was so busy taking care of the clients that insurance fell lower and lower on her priority list.”

She paused, and Jack waited for her to continue.

“Jack, would you be willing to give Eleanor an insurance policy?”

“For free?” His tone was shrill. If he drew up a policy for the Alliance, he would be their provider of record. It was true that it was a higher-risk policy, but that wasn't the real problem. He would be entangled with Sophie on a business level, which would mean seeing her more. A lot more. And he just couldn't face that.

Suddenly, she was no longer the woman who'd just given him a dog or whose company he'd enjoyed at Grandy's Groomers and the pet store. She was the dark shadow that had suffused his life since the night of the accident. He'd dealt with his grief carefully, cautiously, as if he'd been wearing protective gloves. As long as he could blame Sophie for the bad judgment, the wasted minutes that might have saved Aleah's life, then he didn't feel the other pain. The pain of knowing it had been his fault.

Being this close to Sophie was dangerous.

He couldn't give Frenchie back; he was too committed already. But he didn't have to see Sophie anymore, either.

“Sorry. I can't,” he said finally.

Sophie shot him a sidelong glance. “Can't or won't?”

“Won't.”

“At least you're honest,” she replied, folding her arms over her chest. “Thanks for that.”

“Thanks?”

“Yeah. I know where I stand with you.”

He pulled into a space near his office. He kept the car in idle. “Good. Then we understand each other.” He nodded toward her door. “You can be assured I'll take good care of Frenchie.”

Sophie grabbed the handle, but turned to face him. Her eyes glistened. Tears?

“Jack, I truly appreciate what you're doing for little Frenchie.” She pushed the door open. “It's a grand gesture. I shouldn't have asked about the insurance policy. Maybe we can scrounge up the money to pay for it. Would you be willing to give us a quote?”

“A quote?” He hadn't figured she'd persist. Apparently, she didn't understand that he was trying to dodge her. Completely. He made the mistake of pausing just a fraction too long on those honey-brown eyes and long black lashes. He memorized her high cheekbones and her soft, full lips. Then she spoke again and killed his reservations.

“Jack, be a hero here. Please?”

He dropped his chin. He was toast. “I'll think about it.”

She placed her hand on his forearm. He could feel that same warmth he'd felt when he was her patient. Healing hands. Loving hands.

“Thanks, Jack.”

Then, she did the unforgivable. The unforgettable. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Her lips barely skimmed it, but his pulse skyrocketed. His heart slammed against his chest. For. No. Reason.

Before he could respond, she was out of the car, the door was shut and she was dashing down the sidewalk, where she appeared to vanish into thin air.

Jack stared at the emptiness she left in her wake.

Frenchie barked, startling him. He turned around. She was yawning.

“Time to go to your new home, girl,” he said, and reached to the backseat to scratch her head.

Jack decided to take the rest of the day off and get Frenchie settled at home. He drove away with the eerie sensation that for the second time in a matter of weeks, his life had altered drastically. Both times, Sophie was there.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A
FTER
ATTENDING
S
UNDAY
Mass with her parents and sharing brunch with them, Sophie drove back to town, her car loaded down with bundles of summer roses and sunflowers from her grandmother's garden. She'd taken special care to select a variety of colors for Mrs. Beabots. The deep yellow of Lemon Queen was one of Sophie's favorites, and mixed with the wine-red of Chianti, the white and pale-yellow blooms of Italian White and a few gold and russet firecrackers, the bouquet was sure to bring a smile to her landlady's face.

Sophie parked her car and gathered the bouquets from the backseat. Her mother had tied the stems with twine and wrapped wet paper towels and aluminum foil around the bottoms to keep them from the least bit of droop.

Sophie rapped on the back kitchen door.

“Come in, Sophie,” Mrs. Beabots called. “I saw you drive up.”

Sophie walked in holding the flowers in front of her face. “Just for you,” she said.

Mrs. Beabots was dressed in an elegant navy-and-white summer knit suit, white-and-navy low pumps with a wide navy bow at the toe and a dozen gold chains and strings of pearls. Sophie wondered not for the first time how Mrs. Beabots had amassed such an extravagant wardrobe.

“They're beautiful,” Mrs. Beabots exclaimed, reaching for the bouquet.

“So are you. What's the occasion?”

Mrs. Beabots put the flowers on the butcher block and retrieved a cut crystal vase that Sophie guessed was at least fifty years old.

“I'm glad you asked because this is one of those times I need to prevail upon you for help,” the older woman explained as she filled the vase with water.

“Help? Sure. What can I do?”

“I'm going to Austin McCreary's showing today at the museum. He's bought a new Rolls Royce and I'm dying to see it.”

Sophie slapped her cheek. “Oh, my gosh! Is that today? Katia mentioned it to me when I saw her at the post office a couple weeks ago. I thought it was on the twenty-seventh.”

Mrs. Beabots stopped midmotion and glanced at Sophie over her shoulder. “It is the twenty-seventh.”

“Oh,” Sophie replied sheepishly. “I guess I've been busy.”

Mrs. Beabots put the vase on the butcher block and untied the twine. “Looks to me like you've been more than just busy.” She stuck the longest stemmed Lemon Queen into the vase first, as the center pole. “I've never been accused of being a busybody, but I can't help but notice that you've been coming home later and later at night. And what happened to your Wednesdays off when you would sit in the garden to read? You're gone all the time now.”

“I guess I am.”

Mrs. Beabots finished arranging the flowers. “Stunning. Your grandmother grows the best.”

“She does. My mother and I planted the rose garden. I have roses, too, if you'd like them. I'll run out to the car and get them—”

“Sophie!” Mrs. Beabots said sharply. “You're very good at evasion, aren't you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You didn't answer my question, though actually, you don't have to. If you have a new young man in your life, I understand.”

Sophie shook her head. “It's not a guy. Far from it. Thank goodness. It's the work I've been doing for Eleanor.”

Mrs. Beabots's brows knitted together. “I thought you were giving her a couple hours a week. From what I've seen, you're working a second job.”

“Not quite. It's just that there's so much to be done.”

“It's important to have a passion, but they can be like black holes if you're not careful. They can suck you in and suck you dry. Just don't let it take over your life so much that you ruin your health.”

Sophie chuckled. “And I thought
I
was the nurse.”

“All right then. That's settled. I won't worry anymore. Now, since you're dressed appropriately, what do you say we go see about this new Silver Cloud of Austin's?”

“Absolutely. But first, I need to put my roses in water and I need to get more tape.”

“Tape?”

“For the Alliance posters Katia promised I could put up in the museum.”

Mrs. Beabots rolled her eyes. “Sophie, you need to dial it back or you're going to lose your balance.”

Sophie turned and headed quickly for the back door. “I'll be fine. Promise.”

As Sophie stepped outside she realized that her landlady was as much of a mother hen as her grandmother and mother. She wondered what she'd done to be so lucky.

* * *

J
ACK
WAS
LATE
to Austin McCreary's event at the car museum and had to park at the far end of the expansive lot. He was surprised at the number of people attending, but then free food and wine were always a draw. For Jack, the antique 1957 Silver Cloud Rolls Royce was all the enticement he needed. Jack had always loved cars, and kept a stack of
Car and Driver
magazines at his office. As a kid, he had the largest Hot Wheels collection in his neighborhood. His first car had been a red 1965 Mustang convertible that he'd paid for with money he'd earned from two jobs, along with a loan his father had cosigned. Jack had loved that car until he had to sell it to help pay for his college tuition. That had been a black day in his life, but he got over it.

Jack didn't envy many people, but he certainly would have liked to have just one of Austin McCreary's exceptional antique automobiles.

Along with the event, this was his first chance to inspect the repairs to the museum. A tornado ripped through it last March. Since Jack's company carried the insurance for the building, Katia had kept him informed about the reconstruction and had shown him photos, but he hadn't managed to see it in person yet.

The landscaping and downed trees had been replaced, and new mulch covered the uprooted giant oak, whose loss Katia had personally mourned. A hedge of blue blooming hydrangeas lined the far right side of the building and clusters of pink and purple impatiens filled the front beds in front of boxwood hedges.

The building was a replica of the Hermitage. Andrew Jackson had blended Federal, Palladian and Greek Revival architecture for the original home—now a museum—in Nashville, a place Jack had visited with his family in elementary school. Jack respected Austin's vision in building such an elegant museum for his antique car collection, started by his father.

As Jack gazed up at the museum, he reflected that when he'd arrived in Indian Lake, he hadn't thought much about the townsfolk or his part in the community. At that time, Indian Lake was a solution to a problem he had with his company's expenses. He'd needed to make quick decisions or he and his brother-in-law were going to have to close. Katia had come up with the idea of leaving Chicago's high rent and taxes and basing their operations in Indiana. Jack had been desperate. Perhaps even rash. But he'd made a decision.

Now, he had to stick with that decision. He and the company had made it through their first six months and landed some important clients. Jack had begun to dig his heels into life in Indian Lake. He'd joined the Rotary and Lions Clubs, as well as the Chamber of Commerce, and met a lot of people. He'd also attended every fund-raiser and community function he could to get his name out to the public. But still, his only real friends here were Austin and Katia.

He'd been so busy with work, he hadn't had time to bond with anyone else. Now that it was summer, he should be thinking about buying a little bass boat and fishing on Sunday afternoons. Or playing golf like he used to do with his dad and his sister. But with Ava and Barry still in Chicago and no one to really spend time with here, those activities didn't hold the same appeal.

The brightest spot in his life right now was Frenchie. Thanks to Sophie.
Sophie...

He still hadn't given her an answer about the umbrella policy for the Alliance. He'd tried not to think about it—and failed. Since the night of Aleah's death, many thoughts of Sophie had been black and disturbing. Now, they'd softened into a soft cushion he longed to fall into. Sometimes. Other times he was simply confused.

Jack walked into the museum and was greeted by a familiar-looking young woman in her early twenties, dressed in an 1820s costume and powdered wig. She handed him a program. “Hi, Mr. Carter,” she said with a bright smile.

As soon as she spoke, he recognized her voice. “Chloe? From Cupcakes and Coffee?”

“That's right,” she said. “The program is about to start. It's upstairs on the second floor. You can take the elevator over there.” She pointed, then pulled at the white silk skirt and asked, “You like the costume? It's period-appropriate for the museum. It was Katia's idea.”

“I should have guessed.” He smiled. “She's got everyone volunteering, huh?”

“There's four of us from my acting class here. Debra La Pointe, our acting coach, suggested we help out, and in return we get to advertise for our first play next month.
A
Midsummer Night's Dream.
I'm playing Titania.” She reached behind her to a small table. “Here's the flyer. Maybe you can bring a friend? We need bodies.” She grinned.

“Paying customers,” Jack corrected. “I truly understand. I'll make a point of being there.”

“Great.” Chloe nodded toward the elevator. “You better get going. Austin's doing a real unveiling.”

“Thanks.” Jack tipped the program to his temple in a little salute and headed upstairs.

When the elevator doors opened, Jack saw a large crowd that had to be well over a hundred and fifty people. Austin stood on a riser in the middle of the rotunda area, and next to him was a lump covered in a white drape that Jack assumed was the star of the show, the Silver Cloud.

Spotting the bar, Jack walked over and asked for a glass of Pinot Grigio. The bartender, dressed in a Regency-era livery costume, poured the wine into a stemmed glass.

Jack moved on to a long table with hors d'oeuvres, a summer floral centerpiece, two silver candelabras and several piles of printed information about the museum, the cars and the McCreary family. He popped a bite in his mouth just as Austin began to speak.

Austin welcomed everyone and introduced his fiancée, Katia. As the crowd applauded, Jack scanned the room for familiar faces. He noticed several new clients, Melanie and her family, and Owen, who appeared so intent on seeing the Silver Cloud he didn't take his eyes off the white drape, even when Jack tried to wave.

He peered at the stained glass ceiling in the rotunda and sipped his wine. As he turned, admiring the space, he spotted two posters on either side of the elevator doors, which he'd missed on his way in.

The Recovery Alliance.

Jack nearly choked on his wine.

He didn't know why, but the Alliance was a trigger for him, bringing back the night of the accident. In a split second, his head filled with terrible sounds: glass shattering, metal splitting, Owen's moans, Aleah screaming. The feeling that his life was out of control.

And it was.

Since the night of the crash, Jack's world had changed so drastically, it was as if he'd moved into another dimension. He still felt he owed Aleah something. He couldn't give life back to her, but he felt impotent and insignificant in his efforts to make amends.

He shook his head and the posters came back into focus. There was only one person who could have hung them.

Sophie.

Quite frankly, Jack didn't understand her. He was suspicious. Why did she keep showing up in his life? Trying to help him? Was she trying to off-load her own guilt? Was she seeking forgiveness from him because she knew in her heart of hearts that she truly was to blame? And why this sudden interest of hers in the Recovery Alliance? What did she have to gain? Atonement?

As far as Jack was concerned, Greg Fulton should have gone to the hospital and undergone medical treatment for his addiction. Emory Wills had a full program in place that was supposed to cure people. If Greg had sought help, he would still be alive and so would Aleah. But regardless of what the hospital offered, Jack hadn't done enough research to put his stamp of approval on anything connected with the Alliance.

Suddenly, he heard a clamoring of applause, whistles and whoops. Undoubtedly, Austin had unveiled the Rolls. And he'd missed it.

His eyes glued to the posters, Jack's mind went black. All he could think about was the injustice and heartbreak of losing Aleah. While everyone was occupied with Austin and his new car, Jack walked up to the posters and ripped them off the wall. Then he shoved them in a nearby garbage can amongst empty wine bottles and napkins.

“What do you think you're doing?”

Jack spun around and found Sophie throwing him a poisonous look.

“Those are mine,” she ground out angrily. “You have no right to take them down, much less throw them in the trash.”

“You're right. I got carried away.” Why did he feel so foolish?

Sophie stomped over to the garbage can and pulled the posters out. One of them was wet, but the other was unmarred. “I'll put them back up.”

Jack's anger felt like a bomb in his head about to explode. He didn't understand why he was reacting so violently. Posttraumatic stress from the accident?

He had to diffuse it and quickly. “Sophie,” he began, his head throbbing. There was no answer for his torment. He had to push her out of his life. Her presence was just too much for him to take. He couldn't figure out his overwhelming need to run from her and at the same time give her the deepest, most soulful goodbye kiss he could muster. He was losing it.

“I've given your proposal a lot of thought. I won't help you with the umbrella policy. I've been working with Emory since I moved here. I owe him personally. However, I won't say anything to anyone about your participation in this—” he pointed to the posters “—agency.”