In This Town (17 page)

He knew she was right. Nora had a big heart. She’d never hold a
grudge, never be as cruel as he’d been.

The door opened and Anthony stiffened, glanced back at Ross as
he stood in the doorway, the light behind him casting the chief’s face in
shadow.

“Anthony,” Ross said, surprise in his tone and Anthony knew
Ross was taking in the scene before him. His niece, his underage niece, sitting
in the almost-dark with a twenty-one-year-old, her hand on his arm, their hips
touching.

Anthony jumped to his feet, shoved his hands into his pockets
as Jess slowly got to her feet. The last time he and Jess had been caught alone,
they’d been making out in his parents’ hot tub. That was when Anthony had
learned the truth, that the girl he was falling for was only sixteen years
old.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Ross said, not unkindly, which sucked
even worse than if he’d yelled at Anthony.

Anthony looked at Jess, felt as if, for the second time in his
life, he was losing something important, something he’d never be able to get
back.

“Yeah,” he finally said, wishing things were different, that he
was younger or she older, that being with her didn’t feel so right even when he
knew it was wrong. “I know.”

He walked away.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“D
O
YOU
HAVE
a minute?” Celeste
asked Tori Sunday afternoon after the café had closed.

Since weekends were especially busy at the café, Tori liked to
pitch in with the cooking on either a Saturday or Sunday a few times a month.
Not having the tips a busy weekend morning brought in ate into her wages but
Celeste needed her.

“Sure.” In truth, Tori wasn’t in any hurry to get home. Brandon
was still at Greg’s and she knew when she went to pick him up, she’d have to
face her ex-husband and Colleen…that they’d have to discuss the very real
possibility of a custody hearing. And once she did have her son with her again,
he’d likely be more sullen and angry than he’d been this past year.

Yeah, she’d much rather avoid all that for as long as possible.
And who would’ve ever thought that she’d dread seeing her own child? That she’d
feel such anxiety, such stomach-turning nerves just from the idea of picking him
up? From not knowing if he was going to be her sweet-natured little boy or the
bratty kid he’d morphed into?

“Let’s talk in my office,” Celeste said.

“Okay, just let me grab a soda first. You want anything?”

“No, thanks.”

Tori went down the hall toward the drink station purposely not
looking into the kitchen where she and Walker had shared that…moment.

A heated, wonderful, completely unexpected moment.

But that’s all it was, she assured herself as she dispensed ice
into a cup and then filled it with diet soda. It was just a brief second in
time, a once-in-a-lifetime encounter. She had no desire to get involved with a
man, with any man, let alone one who was investigating her sister, who suspected
half her family of murder and other wrongdoings.

She stuck a straw in the glass, took a long sip as she made her
way back toward Celeste’s office. When she had asked Greg for the divorce, she
had decided not to rely on a man to take care of her, not ever again. She needed
to take care of herself and her son on her own. Needed to stop believing a man
would make her dreams come true, that he’d somehow make her problems
disappear.

That if a man loved her, it’d make up for all that was lacking
within herself.

When Tori reached the office, Celeste was already there staring
out at the rain through the window, her back to Tori. She turned and Tori paused
in the act of taking another sip. It hit her that Celeste was getting older. Oh,
she still looked great, still took care of herself physically, but the truth was
there in the lines on the older woman’s face, in the silver in her dark
hair.

It gave Tori a pang to realize, to think that life was moving,
as it always did, at amazing speeds and yet she was still here, still stuck.
Always stuck.

“What’s happened now?” Tori asked as she sat in the chair in
front of the desk. “You look serious which means some new or bigger havoc has
been wrought.”

Smiling, Celeste came around the front of the desk to lean
against the corner. “Nothing like that. I think our family’s had enough havoc,
don’t you?”

Though Tori’s father and Celeste had never married, though he’d
never even asked her, Celeste was a part of their family. Had been one for as
long as Tori could remember, first as Val’s best friend and now as her father’s
partner.

“Just because we’ve had our fill doesn’t mean the hammer’s not
going to come down again. On our heads,” Tori said.

Celeste’s smile widened. “You sound just like your mother.”

Tori’s shoulders snapped back. “No need for insults.”

“It wasn’t an insult,” Celeste said softly. “Your mother wasn’t
all bad, you know. I realize it’s…easier to think she was, to only remember her
flaws, but she was so much more.” Celeste met her eyes. “And I know you remember
that about her.”

She did, but she didn’t want to. It was easier to keep the pain
at bay if she concentrated on Valerie’s flaws, on how much she’d hurt them all.
“Mom left us. She walked away, she made that choice.”

Celeste sighed and ran the back of her hand across her
forehead. “She was selfish and vain, no doubt about it. She was…looking for
something. For someone to fill something inside her. Ever since we were kids she
was searching.... It was as if she was empty.”

Tori was afraid she had that same emptiness, that same
neediness, could become just as tragic a figure if she let her guard down, if
she didn’t always protect her heart.

“But your mother wasn’t just beautiful,” Celeste continued.
“Though that’s the only thing people saw. She was smart, smarter than she gave
herself credit for. And she was funny. My God, no one could make me laugh like
your mother. She just…lit up a room. You remind me of her.”

Tori squirmed. Hearing that from Celeste warmed her even as she
wanted to deny it. “Layne looks more like her than I do.”

“She does, but that’s not what I mean. You have her sense of
humor, the way you look at life, so cautiously even while you try to take the
world by storm, that’s all Valerie. How you read people, size them up. But
you’re more than that. She didn’t have your ability to think through all the
consequences before making a decision and she never worked as hard as you do.
She always counted on her coworkers to pick up the slack for her, relied on her
looks to get her by, but you rely on your brains, and on your hard work. I’ve
known you ever since you were born, have loved you and your sisters all your
lives and while I’m proud of them, I’m most proud of you.”

The words hit Tori with enough force to knock the wind from
her. She couldn’t remember a time when someone had been proud of her. But she
couldn’t trust the warmth in her heart, the hope and joy that Celeste’s words
brought. “I got pregnant at seventeen,” she said flatly, “got married at
eighteen and divorced before I was thirty. I have a GED and not a diploma, never
went to college and have worked my entire life as a waitress. What’s to be proud
of?”

“You took responsibility for your mistakes,” Celeste pointed
out, calmly, rationally. “You love Brandon and you tried, for years you tried to
make your marriage work. For that, you should be commended. You work hard,
harder than any of my other employees. You’re always here, can always be counted
on to solve problems or to pitch in when I need an extra pair of hands.”

“I’m happy to help out,” Tori said. “You know I’d do anything
for you.”

Celeste was one of only a few people she could ever say that to
and mean it.

Celeste reached out and squeezed Tori’s hand. “I do know that.
And you know that while I adore your sisters, you hold a special place in my
heart.”

Tears clogged the back of Tori’s throat. She cleared it.
“Thanks. Right back at you.”

Celeste slapped both hands onto her thighs. “Right. Well,
before things get even mushier in here, I have a proposition for you.”

“I still don’t want to be manager,” Tori said quickly.

Two years ago, the manager of the restaurant moved away leaving
the position open. Celeste wanted Tori to take over but Tori hadn’t wanted that
much responsibility, was worried she’d somehow mess up or disappoint
Celeste.

“That’s good because I don’t want you to be the new manager,
either.” She handed Tori a paper. “I want you to be my partner.”

Tori’s vision blurred but from what she could see, Celeste had
had a contract drawn up, one that gave Tori the opportunity to buy into the
café.

“I…I don’t understand,” Tori said, her thoughts scattered, her
heart racing.

“It’s simple. With everything that’s happened the past few
months, it made me realize I need to focus on what’s important. Really
important. And that’s the people I love. I’ve always hoped that you’d take over
the restaurant when I retire, but the other night I wondered, why wait? You
could become a partner now, we’ll run it together until I retire and then the
café will be yours.” Her expression softened. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d
rather have take over. There’s no one else I’d trust as much to keep the place
running and successful, who’ll love it as much as I have.”

Tori couldn’t think through the panic suffusing her. “I… How… I
don’t have any money,” she blurted. “There’s no way I could do this.”

“I’ve already spoken with the bank manager, he seems to think
you could qualify for a small business loan, and your father and I would be more
than happy to pitch in as well.”

“You’ve talked to Dad about this?”

“Of course. He thinks it’s a wonderful idea.”

Tori blinked. “He does?”

God, had he and Celeste lost their minds? Tori couldn’t handle
a job this big. Couldn’t handle the financial responsibility of owning a
restaurant. Why on earth would her dad think she could?

Maybe it was his way to make up for how he’d always held her at
arm’s length. Oh, she suspected he loved her, but he’d spent so much time at
sea, away from them, that Tori had learned to get by without his attention.

Besides, he’d given most of his love and devotion to Val which
hadn’t left much for his daughters.

“Don’t make any decision right now,” Celeste said as if she
could read the terror and nerves going on inside Tori. “Take as much time as you
need but please, think about it.”

Think about it? Think about putting herself into financial
debt, into taking on that risk now that she was alone, supporting herself and
her son for the first time in her life?

No. Make that hell, no. Taking that risk was way too scary. The
chances of her failing were too high.

And if she accepted Celeste’s offer, she’d be even more
entrenched in Mystic Point. She’d never get free.

* * *

T
HE
GODDAMN
RAIN
was driving Walker
batty.

It’d rained practically nonstop for four days and the heavy,
gray mood seemed to hang in the air, permeated people’s attitudes and
personalities.

Or maybe Walker was just pissed that both of his investigations
were going nowhere fast. That Jack Pomeroy had called him at six that morning to
chew on his ass for fifteen minutes.

Seemed the D.A. had gotten wind of Walker’s rescue mission at
the Yacht Pub and had taken it upon himself to warn Walker about the
consequences of getting involved with a possible suspect.

Consequences similar to what Ross Taylor was facing due to his
involvement with a Sullivan.

“Did you ever see the chief and assistant chief in a
compromising position?” Walker asked Officer Campbell—for the fourth time—in
what he considered a highly reasonable tone as he stared down the younger man.
God, the kid was young, maybe early twenties. Even in uniform, his hair buzzed
short, he looked like a teenager.

Campbell, his shoulders back, a mutinous expression on his
face, shifted in the hard seat. “I don’t think that—”

“I’m not asking you to think,” Walker said mildly. “All I want
is a yes or no answer.”

“No.”

Walker leaned back, studied the officer. He was finishing his
interviews with the men in the Mystic Point police department, which so far had
been less than fruitful. One thing he’d learned: the officers under their
command were loyal to Taylor and Sullivan.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

It sure as hell wasn’t helping his case any. He needed the
truth, whether good or bad, not nonanswers and attitude.

“Can I go back to work now?” Campbell asked, his face flushed,
his arms crossed.

Walker had to stop himself from hauling the kid up by the
scruff of his neck and tossing his ass out himself. “Yeah. You’re
dismissed.”

Campbell walked out, making sure to slam the door behind him.
Walker sat back and stretched. The room was windowless, the air stale. He’d
conducted the first few interviews in his temporary office but when he’d had no
cooperation, he’d switched tactics, moved to the interview room, but maybe
treating the officers as suspects had backfired.

Live and learn.

He walked out into the squad room to find Chief Taylor waiting
for him.

“Thank you for coming down,” Walker said, ignoring how all
conversation ceased when he stepped into the room.

“No problem. I’m glad to help in any way I can.” Though he was
in civilian clothes—khakis and a striped, button-down shirt—there was no
mistaking Taylor’s authority when he sent a pointed look around the room. “If
everyone cooperates, answers questions honestly, the sooner things can go back
to normal around here.” Now he met Walker’s eyes. “Isn’t that right,
Detective?”

Impressed despite himself, Walker rocked back on his heels.
“That sounds about right.”

Walker gestured for Taylor to go ahead of him down the hall to
his old office. Inside, Walker poured himself a cup of coffee, offered one to
Taylor who shook his head.

“Something I can do for you, Detective?” Taylor asked.

“Yes.” Walker sipped his coffee, added sugar then sipped again.
“But first I have to know, was that little show out there for me?”

“I don’t perform,” Taylor said. “What you see is what you get.
Whether you like it or not.”

Walker wasn’t sure he believed that but the more he was around
Taylor the more he respected him. Which made his job that much harder. “So you
really want your men to cooperate?”

“Of course. The captain and I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Getting involved with a subordinate officer could be construed
as wrong.”

Taylor studied him. “Seems to me, it’s up to a review board to
judge my actions. Not you.”

True. And, yes, Walker was being judgmental, but only because
he had the right. As a cop, it was up to him to make sure other cops toed the
line, that they didn’t take advantage of their position of power.

He was skating that line, Walker realized, and it pissed him
off. He was getting personally involved with someone connected to this case. He
couldn’t deny it, not when he and Tori had had personal conversations, not when
she’d cooked for him.