Behind Closed Doors (6 page)

She was only thirty-two, but hard living had taken its toll on her skin and body. Beth held out little hope she’d change her ways, but she had to make Candace understand that her fifteen-year-old daughter was too young to be trying to attract a man. Or that she needed one to make her happy.

“Tell you what, Mom...” Liberty drawled, grabbing a handful of hard candy from the plastic bowl on the blue Formica counter.

Ah, here came the bargaining part. Beth had to admit, Liberty was pretty good at it. Or, more accurately, she knew how to wear her mother down.

Candace drew on her cigarette and grimaced. She must’ve forgotten it wasn’t lit yet. Beth had convinced her to only smoke outside. Pulling the cigarette out of her mouth, she glared at Liberty. “What?”

The girl drew in a deep breath. She didn’t look cocky or combative, but oddly nervous. “Let me see Dad next visiting day and I’ll change into anything you want,” she said, looking into her mother’s eyes, an unconscious yearning in her youthful face. “I’ll even wear some of that stupid makeup you bought me.”

Clearly startled, Candace turned to the window over the sink. “I think I see your bus. You’re going to be late, so move it.”

“Oh. My. God. You’re such a liar. You’ve been saying
maybe
for months.” The words shook with anger. “You’re never going to let me see him.” Liberty grabbed her backpack. “I hate you.” She nearly tore the screen door off its hinges and slammed it behind her.

Candace hadn’t turned around once.

Beth got up and ran outside. Liberty had made it halfway to the short gravel road shared by three other shabby houses with their neglected yards. “Liberty, wait.”

The girl hitched the sagging backpack up to her shoulder, looking small and forlorn standing in the middle of the weed-infested grass. After swiping at her cheeks, she turned and waited for Beth.

“I hate Candace,” she murmured. “I do. I really hate her. Why couldn’t you have been my mother?”

Beth hugged the girl. “No, you don’t. I understand why you think you might.” She drew back to smile at her niece. “When I was your age I hated my mother, too.”

“Well, yeah, grandma and my mom are totally alike.”

The teen’s insight startled Beth. Maybe the right thing would be to deny it, but somehow that felt like an insult to Liberty. “You don’t hate her,” she said. “You may not agree with her, or like some things she says and does, but—”

“Do you think she’s right? About not letting me see my dad?”

“I’m sure she has a good reason,” Beth said carefully. “I don’t know the specifics, and it is a four-hour bus ride to the prison.”

“So what? I haven’t seen my dad in a whole year. And it’s not like I’m asking her to take me.” Liberty briefly turned at the sound of the noisy bus still a mile down the road. “I’m old enough to go by myself.”

No way Beth agreed with that, but she’d let it slide for now. “Let’s walk to the curb so the driver sees you.”

“Will you talk to her, Aunt Beth?” Liberty tugged the overstuffed backpack up higher on her shoulder as she swung toward the road. A notebook popped out. And so did a can of red spray paint.

“Liberty.” Beth sighed, feeling heartsick. She’d honestly thought they’d turned a corner. “What are you doing with that?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“What I think doesn’t matter. Having spray paint in your possession violates your probation. The judge can stick you in juvenile detention.”

“Oh, he won’t.” Liberty crammed everything back into her backpack. “Spike says the court always threatens stuff like that but they never lock kids up. It costs too much.”

Beth really had to bite her tongue. If she had her way, Jerry Long, aka Spike, would be thrown in a dungeon somewhere north of the Arctic Circle. The guy was crude, surly and, at eighteen, too old to be hanging around a fifteen-year-old girl. “He’s wrong, kiddo, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” She held out her hand. “You need to give me that can.”

“No, it’s for a school project. My art class.” Liberty sent a quick look at the approaching bus. “I don’t want to have to explain to my teacher why I can’t have a stupid spray can.”

“What kind of project is it?”

“Please, Aunt Beth,” she pleaded with puppy-dog eyes as she moved toward the road. “I’ll give you the can as soon I’m finished with it. Promise.”

The bus stopped and the door whooshed open.

Beth sighed. “Okay. Go.” She hoped she wasn’t being foolish. “We’re going to talk more about this later,” she called after Liberty, who wasted no time getting on the bus and out of earshot.

The air was chilly and scented with the crisp smell of autumn. Wearing short-sleeved T-shirts was fine during the day, especially to work around the boardinghouse, but she’d have to buy some sweatshirts for the mornings. Goose bumps covered her arms and she rubbed them, trying to get warm, as she stood in the tall grass, watching the bus turn onto the highway.

How different her life was these days. She hadn’t even owned a T-shirt until two months ago. Armani suits and Dolce & Gabbana dresses had hung in her closet. And her collection of shoes? Just thinking about her Jimmy Choos and Christian Louboutins languishing in a storage unit gave her another chill.

She stared down at her ugly work boots. God, she really missed high heels—mostly because she liked the way they made her legs look. But that was stupid, since all she ever wore anymore was jeans. Even once the inn was open for business, her attire wouldn’t change much. Around Blackfoot Falls people only dressed up for church, weddings and funerals. And for some, that simply meant a clean shirt or wearing something other than jeans.

When she’d made the decision to quit her job and move close to Candace and Liberty, she hadn’t considered the little things that would change in her day-to-day life. Her decision had been both emotional and hasty, but this was still the right choice. Although she wasn’t anyone’s idea of a perfect role model, her influence might be Liberty’s only shot at a healthy future.

She turned and started back toward the small turquoise house with its peeling white trim. What an eyesore. Which really said something, considering the condition of the other three homes with their torn screens and ramshackle porches. She couldn’t wait until a room was ready at the boardinghouse. Nathan was right—her efforts should be concentrated on fixing the outside, especially with winter coming. But she needed her own space. She needed to be away from this sad little neighborhood that reminded her of her unstable childhood.

Her aversion had nothing to do with being a snob. While working as an event planner, the fat paychecks had been well earned, not handed to her just for being pretty. She’d gotten her hands dirty plenty of times, making sure every event went smoothly. As much as she loved her designer shoes, she hadn’t forgotten how often she’d had to literally run around, bribing and cajoling, fixing last-minute snafus and liberally cursing both Mr. Choo and Mr. Louboutin.

No, the real problem with living here was that it pushed her buttons. Thrust her back in time to feeling like that scared, helpless child, convinced she’d never be safe, never know the security of a home that couldn’t be pulled out from under her. As clear as it was that she’d made the right choice to move to Blackfoot Falls, she was equally certain that she couldn’t live in this house much longer. Beth needed her own space.

And the other unsettling thing? She suspected the rent was being paid by one of her sister’s lovers. Or maybe the guy owned the house and was taking payment in trade. When Beth had offered to cover the rent and utility bills, Candace had eagerly requested cash instead of a check made out to the mysterious landlord. Beth had bought Liberty school clothes and a computer instead.

Candace was standing at the open door puffing on her cigarette. “I told you before you came that girl was a handful,” she said, the corners of her mouth curling up as if the warning gave her reason to be smug.

“Is it any wonder?” Beth pushed past her. “She doesn’t have adequate parental supervision.”

Candace put the cigarette out on the side of the house and joined Beth in the kitchen. “You talking about me or her father?”

“Oh, God, really?”

“Hey, at least I’m here. I didn’t get myself locked up for breaking and entering.”

Beth sighed. “She shouldn’t be hanging around Spike. He’s too old for her.”

“I agree. I even had a sit-down with Liberty.”

Beth had picked up the keys she’d left on the table, but surprised, she was no longer in a hurry to go. “And?”

“I told her to wake up, that she’s wasting her time. He’s eighteen and still a junior in high school. She doesn’t need a loser like him. He’s never gonna be able to buy her something nice or take her anywhere. I told her straight up. I said, baby girl, you can do so much better than that clown.”

Her mouth hanging open, Beth stared at her sister. The woman was completely clueless. Even after all the heart-to-heart talks they’d had in the past two months.

Candace took the tomato juice out of the fridge and fixed herself a Bloody Mary. After taking a sip, she glanced at Beth. “You want one before you go?”

Instead of answering, she saved her energy to keep from exploding. “Liberty is a bright girl. She doesn’t need a man buying her things or—” Beth’s control slipped a notch. “Or paying her rent.”

With a chilly glare, Candace picked up her drink, leaving everything else on the counter, and walked to the door while reaching into her pocket.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Beth briefly closed her eyes. “I’m not here to judge you, I’m not...but come on, this is about Liberty. You don’t want to see her go down the same road as—”

“Me?” Candace paused to look at her and shrugged. “Go ahead and say it.”

“I mostly blame Mom, not you. She was a horrible influence on both of us.” Beth had to be careful to keep her voice neutral. No one appreciated condescension, and she wanted to provide motivation, not ammunition for another fight. “The example you set for Liberty matters.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Bethany, kinda late for that, don’t you think?”

“No. No, I don’t.”

“Well, that’s your job, isn’t it, Little Miss Perfect? Being the shining example for your niece,” Candace said, and slammed out the screen door.

Holding on to her temper by her fingernails, Beth followed her to the stoop. “Look, you called me, remember?”

Candace lit her cigarette and drew in deeply. “You heard from her recently?”

“Who?”

“Mom.”

Beth shook her head. Candace’s mercurial moods alone drove her crazy. “I haven’t talked to her in two years. She could’ve changed her number or moved for all I know.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s still living with Bobby in Vegas,” Candace said, absently staring off toward the Belt Mountains where most of the aspens had turned golden. The only decent thing about the house and flat tract of land was the view.

“Can we get back to Liberty? I think Spike is the one getting her into trouble.”

“As long as he’s not chasing off other boys who are interested in her, I’m not going to interfere.”

Watching her gulp down half her drink, Beth sighed. Once again, it wasn’t the time to have a worthwhile discussion. But then it never was with Candace. Beth glanced at the clock. She had to get to town and be at the boardinghouse before her workers arrived.

Thinking about them reminded her of the lumber order, which led her to Nathan. Yesterday he’d been a shining beacon of hope that life in Blackfoot Falls might be looking up. That had lasted for an hour. After he figured out she was related to the little graffiti artist who’d defaced his water sheds, he’d probably never want to see Beth again.

Not bothering to say anything to her sister, Beth left through the living room, grabbing her phone and wallet off the teak end table. The garage-sale purchase was the nicest piece of furniture in the house and even made the green plaid couch look better. As far as the brown corduroy recliner went, Beth saw no hope for it. Maybe she’d get lucky again at another garage sale.

She climbed into her truck just as her phone buzzed. She smiled when she saw it was a text from Fritz. He sent the same one every week, asking if she’d had enough and was ready to return to work. Her former boss had never said, but she had a feeling he hadn’t expected her to last this long. He’d been good to her, grooming her to be a savvy, confident woman, and she owed him. It was time to make him understand he should hire another assistant.

Wondering where he was, her fingers hovered over the keypad. He could be in Paris or Hong Kong or New York. It didn’t matter since he’d just texted. She wouldn’t be disturbing him. Allowing herself a brief wistful memory of autumn in Paris, she stared at the sad three-bedroom house that was in desperate need of a new roof. She really had to move out. It wasn’t that she needed pretty things. Arguing with Candace and getting nowhere was sucking the soul out of her. Still, she was committed to staying in Blackfoot Falls. Liberty needed her and, to some degree, so did Candace.

Beth dropped the phone on the seat beside her and turned the key in the ignition. She would have that talk with Fritz. Absolutely, she would. Just not right now.

5

N
ATHAN LEFT HIS
office through the French doors that opened to the garden. He didn’t know why he hadn’t taken his normal route through the house and out the kitchen. It felt odd following the flagstone path. Generally he forgot the flower beds and whimsical-shaped shrubs were there.

Anne had designed the garden and wanted the impractical French doors so they’d match the other three in the den, living room and master bedroom. If she’d been disappointed that he tended to keep the drapes closed, she hadn’t mentioned it and he hadn’t noticed. But apparently, a lot of things in their marriage had gone unnoticed.

If he’d had his way, his office would’ve had a view of the stables and the grassy field that turned to pasture before climbing the foothills. It was all there, beyond the privacy hedge that prevented him from seeing anything but blue sky and the Rockies in the distance. But Anne had asked for so little.