Her Reason To Stay

Chapter Three

THAT NIGHT, as the temperature in Daphne’s rented room dipped below bone-chilling, she negotiated with the thermostat for more heat. The unit rumbled like a jet on takeoff, and Daphne gagged from the stench of burning dust. She was running for the door to let in fresh air when someone knocked.

The second she touched the chain, it fell out of its slot. She undid the dead bolt and opened the door.

Patrick Gannon stood outside, leaning back for a good look at the overloaded gutters. “You can’t stay here,” he said.

He hadn’t even glanced at her, but she studied his long, lean body, different in jeans and a black sweater. Different, but no less devastating.

“Did you hear me?” he asked.

“It was a hell of a greeting.”

He seemed to see her for the first time. Heat invaded his eyes. He could hypnotize an unwary woman with a single glance. But she couldn’t force herself to look away.

“One more wet leaf and the roof will cave in.” He might have been talking ham sandwiches and coffee. His words didn’t affect her half as much as his husky tones.

“I’m not afraid.” She shuddered. “Spring’s here, so I’m safe until fall.” Safe? Not unless she could get rid of him. She had to get a grip. “They’re giving me a monthly rate, and I can’t afford anything more plush.”

He walked in as if she’d invited him. She stepped out of his way.

“The room smells of mold.” He crossed to the heat, tapped the vents and then wiped his hands on his legs. “How do you feel about carbon monoxide?”

“Don’t say stuff like that. I scare easy.” She closed her mouth with a snap. “Honestly, I’ve stayed in far worse. None of the guests knifed each other in the parking lot last night, and I got a free show.” She pointed to the Crowded Beer Case, a drinking establishment whose red neon lights flashed through the gaps in her drapes.

“Maybe you should put in a bid to buy the place.” Patrick filled the room with broad, unlawyerly shoulders. His sweater, probably cashmere, hugged his chest and tempted Daphne to run her hands over the muscles so finely delineated.

“All right. It smells bad, and it’s not exactly brand new. Why are you here?”

At last he met her eyes. “Raina wants you to stay with her.”

“I thought she and I talked this out.”

“She knows this place, and she’s worried you might not be safe.”

“So she sent her mouthpiece again?”

“She always assumes people listen to me because she does.”

“And you did manage to stop me from leaving this morning.” She said it just to see how he’d react. Was the same half-unwelcome attraction bothering him?

He ignored her comment. “If Raina had any idea what this place was really like, she’d lobby city hall to tear it down.”

“I’m fine here.”

He shrugged, “give me a break” written all over his face. Daphne shook her head, feeling her skin flush.

“I appreciate that you’re both concerned, but I wish she’d stop sending you after me.” In the silence, she waited for him to leave. He stood still. “I’m fine,” she repeated. “You can tell Raina.”

Again, he ignored her jab. “I’d call the biohazard team if the town had one,” he said, still eyeing her. He gave a wry smile.

Against her will, she smiled, too. “You’re a funny guy.” She moved away from him, trying to escape the seduction of his nearness. “But I’m not living off Raina.”

“Come work for me. I’ll pay you enough to get you out of here.”

“Is that another one of Raina’s ideas?” She wanted to know about him—why he was so willing to drop everything for Raina. Did he have romantic feelings for her? Was that why he was working so hard to make friends with her? Even giving her a way of supporting herself so she could stay in Honesty.

Daphne reminded herself she was trying to live her life a new way, without bitterness or resentment. “I’ll find a job,” she said. “You and Raina don’t have to worry about me.”

“Why not give my firm a chance?” He caught her arm, as he had that afternoon. She stilled, aware of the heat and heaviness of his hand. “We always need word processing,” he continued.

He must not know about her criminology degree or those golden days when her skills had been in demand.

With her free hand, she rubbed her mouth, suddenly thirsty as she remembered the despair of the postacquittal years. She’d never totally managed to drown her sorrow in one bottle after another, but her efforts had nearly destroyed her life.

“What?” A frown etched two small lines into Patrick’s forehead. “I don’t doubt you’re capable.” His gaze dropped down her body as if he were brushing fingertips over her skin. Daphne wanted to step behind a barrier, because her breathing and her breasts and her heartbeat had all reacted to his glance.

“What am I doing here?” he asked, his own voice tight.

“That’s a good question.”

He let her go and stared at his hands as if he’d betrayed himself. “This is your sister’s problem. She should have come herself.”

“You’ve done what Raina asked.” Seeing his obvious distress, she took pity on him. “Besides, I don’t know anything about computers. I’ve never owned one, so I couldn’t do your word processing.”

In the way of amateurs everywhere, she’d gone one lie too many. His skeptical grimace made her laugh with some relief.

“Did I go too far?” she asked.

“Who hasn’t used a computer these days?” He touched her hair. The mere heat of his body drew her. She wanted to move closer, so she glued her feet to the floor.

“What did you do before?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said as the past unrolled like film in front of her eyes, the blood, the pain and the disappointment that hurt more than a physical slap. She stepped back, afraid that her memories might somehow leap into Patrick’s head. “I searched for Raina. Shouldn’t you go now?”

“I want to know,” he said, unmoving, but obviously not unmoved. The sympathy in his eyes was more than she could bear.

Something had happened between Patrick Gannon and her. Feelings that ran too deep considering their short duration. “Should we trade?” she asked. “I’ll tell you personal things about myself if you do the same.”

He backed away, reaching the door with no haste, but sending a message of rejection in his frozen glance. The room fell away behind her.

“Your way may be right,” he said. “I had no right to pry. We don’t know each other, but I forgot that.”

And she forgot to breathe. In that moment, she sensed that if she made a move, he would stay. And they’d start exploring their feelings for each other.

So she remained still. Patrick opened the door. “I’m late picking up my son.”

“Your what?”

He was married? Leave it to her to choose a married guy. No wonder her inner alarm had been clanging with such urgency. Almost a full year in AA, and she still wanted to do things that were bad for her, such as letting Patrick matter.

“My son.”

“You’re married? I thought you and Raina might be…”

“No,” he said with enough emphasis to make it clear he’d denied the suggestion before. “I’m her friend. I’m also divorced.” Rage vibrated in his tone. Before she had time to ask why, he reached for the door. “Daphne, this chain is a toy. At least get yourself moved to another room.”

“I will.” She’d followed like some kid, anxious for a last glance.

Patrick’s scent wafted around her. His skin carried a memory of outdoors and spice. Too much aching intimacy had no place between strangers.

He looked at his watch, accidentally exposing the too-fast beat of his pulse in a vein on the underside of his wrist. “I have to get my son,” he said again.

She nodded, taking the hint of a second reminder. He was trying to put the boy between them, and she was glad to let him.

He crossed the sidewalk to the parking lot. “You should give Raina a call. She might be right about this place.”

Daphne noticed his matter-of-fact tone. Maybe her feelings were coloring the way she looked at him. She knew how to resist. She’d had some problems, a major one with whiskey, but men with eyes like ice and bodies like sin had never been an addiction.

“Thanks for the advice.”

A chill April wind blew through the open door. Bits of paper whispered across the parking lot.

Beneath the streetlights, his shiny car stood out from the dull vehicles around it. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, struggling against an insistent need to call him back.

Patrick opened his car door. “Get moved to a different room.”

She patted her back pocket for her key card. “Yeah.” She shut her door and made a beeline for the window shielded by a smudged curtain and a white sign that dripped the word Office in black.

Only several moments after he’d turned the car in a wide, swift circle, without looking at her, did she move away from her lookout position.

THE NEXT MORNING, the college student on duty behind the counter at Cosmic Grounds came to Daphne’s table and passed her a red Sharpie. Smiling shyly, he said, “I found this for you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He was already gone, the back of his neck shiny red.

She ducked her head and returned to the classifieds of the Honesty Sentinel.

Fortified by a cup of the kid’s strongest brew, she started her search. Pickings were slim, but she had to find something she could do. Then she’d worry about coming up with a résumé to impress a prospective employer.

Fifteen minutes later, she’d circled only three jobs that required no experience.

What would Raina think? It all depended on which Raina Daphne met here for coffee—the one who’d sat hunched in the corner of Patrick’s office chair, or the one who’d shown up at the coffee shop two days earlier. The second one didn’t seem likely to die of shame if her twin took a menial job.

Daphne rested her forehead in one palm and started at the ads again. She could always go back to jury consulting. Considering the mess she’d made of her last case, she could slip by the local jail and set the felons loose on an unsuspecting populace.

Inhaling with all her might, she swallowed hard. The negative stuff was getting too difficult to deal with on her own. She had to find a meeting. It had been over a week since her last one, but the thing they’d drummed into her addled head in rehab had been the importance of always finding an AA meeting.

“I thought I’d find you here. Good thing you keep coming, or they’d be out of business.” Raina’s voice at her side made Daphne jump.

Daphne set the marker on the table. “Hello, Raina.”

Today’s perfect outfit was a pink tweed suit and patent-leather pumps.

“Are you on your way to work?” Daphne asked.

“I had a meeting, but I’m planning to look for something like a job.”

“Like a job?”

“You know, one that pays.” Raina sat across the table. “My mother’s health began deteriorating after I finished college, so I helped her keep up with her charity work. We’re close to D.C., you know, but we’re such a small town in a small county. Our social services don’t always stretch to help everyone who needs them.” She smoothed her perfect hair. “When Mother couldn’t do everything she wanted, I did what she asked.”

“That’s good work.”

“But it was my mother’s. Not that I resented being her right hand. I enjoy helping people.”

“Who have you been helping? Children?”

“And adults. Anyone who doesn’t have a job. Anyone who needs something to eat.” She looked away and her uncomfortable expression made Daphne wonder if Raina thought she needed help, too.

“I’m fine. I don’t have your kind of money, but I don’t need to be rescued.”

Raina met her gaze straight on. “I wasn’t thinking of you that way. But I knew you’d take it personally.” She gripped another steamer trunk-size purse, this one in pale pink that matched her suit. “Remember, I accused you of coming for my money and I refused you before you got a chance to ask.”

“That’s true.” Daphne sipped her coffee. “I guess that proves something.”

“That I’m tactless?”

“No. That it’s easier to care for people you don’t know.” Daphne thought about all the people she’d assisted by selecting the juries that freed them. It had been great. She’d thought she was helping the innocent find justice until she’d actually learned the truth about her last client.

“I’d like to help you if you’d let me.” Raina flipped her bag open. She pulled out a square opaque plastic container, topped with a blue lid. “To make up for my heavy hand, I’ll admit I brought you breakfast. I’m sure they didn’t feed you at that hotel.”

“Let’s ask Patrick if anyone would be foolish enough to eat there,” Daphne said without thinking.

“He told me you were upset that I’d sent him.”

“Not upset.”

“You had every right to be. I don’t know why I didn’t come myself. Maybe then you’d believe I want you to stay with me.”

Her sister’s face revealed her regret. Daphne let her qualms go and leaned across the table to touch the container. “You cooked for me?”

“Not exactly.” Raina popped the lid. “I didn’t make it although I’m an excellent chef. But our cook made an egg casserole with prosciutto and Parmesan this morning—”

“Our cook?” Daphne pictured Patrick spooning something from a silver dish across a long table from Raina. Did he and his son live with her?

“Mine now, I guess.” Raina’s expression tensed and Daphne patted her hand.

“You mean she worked for your mother and you? I’m sorry.”

“Who’d you think might be living with me?”

Daphne wasn’t about to utter Patrick’s name. “No one.”

Raina’s skin stretched even more tautly across her high cheekbones. “Funny that we’re hurting each other even when we don’t want to. I’m not seeing Patrick Gannon. He’s been my best friend since childhood. His parents were my mother and father’s closest friends.”

“He says he’s divorced.”

“And he’ll be dealing with Lisa, who’s no picnic, until Will is out of college or older.”

She took another container from her purse and popped that lid, too, revealing fresh-cut strawberries, blueberries, grapes, pineapple and melon, all very tempting. Daphne licked her lips. She could see how Eve might fall for an apple.

“What’s with Patrick and his son?” she asked.

“His ex-wife did horrible things. Bad enough to ensure that she lost custody of Will. He and Patrick are both trying to get over her.” Another box held utensils. “She thought I was having an affair with him, too.”

“Were you?”

“You’re blunt.”

“We’re getting to know each other.”

“I never had an affair with my best friend, who was married and the father of a young son. I have some morals.”

“I’m sure you do, but things happen. People are complex.”

“Not me. Not that complex.” Raina waved at the bowls. “Eat up.”

Daphne pulled one closer. “Okay. I’ll interrogate you later, but people who say they aren’t complex usually are.” She studied the containers. “Are you going to share this with me?”

“I already ate. You should take better care of yourself. My mother believed that old adage about breakfast being the most important meal of the day.”

“You really do miss her.” Daphne’s own maternal role models had been so terrifying she’d been glad to escape.

Raina exposed her pain with a brief, sharp nod.

“You’re different today,” Daphne said. “A mix of yesterday morning and afternoon.”

“I didn’t know what to expect yesterday. In the morning, I assumed you’d come for the money, but then I was determined to make you stay.”

“Make me?”

“I managed, didn’t I?” Her smile melted most of the barriers around Daphne’s heart. “By last night, I had time to think. I feel a bit awkward this morning. Don’t you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Believing that you want to know me, but you don’t expect anything else from me seemed gullible, considering.”

“But now you trust me? How did you make that change so quickly?”

“I made a start.” Raina plucked a strawberry from the box and popped it into her mouth. “And I’m hoping for the best.”

“Finally, I see why Patrick is so protective of you.”

Raina didn’t answer, just looked at her like “What are you saying?”

“You’re innocent. An unkind person could take advantage of you.”

“Come on. I’m tired of hearing that. I’m as mature as any other woman my age. I’ve had a life.” Raina passed a white brocade napkin. “Did you and Patrick discuss a job?”

Daphne slid the napkin into her lap, anxious that no one else should glimpse it. The food was a delightful surprise—even though bringing one’s own food into a café was inappropriate—but the costly linen felt a little too much.

She picked up one of the heavy forks. “There’s an A on the handle.”

“For Abernathy.” Raina reached for the newspaper, scanning the three positions Daphne had circled. “What about the job?”

“I’m not going to work for Patrick. This really is the family silver?”

“We eat with it if that’s what you mean.” Raina ran her French-manicured index finger around the first ad. “Child minder?” She tapped her cheek. “That’s a fancy name for a nanny, you know. For Elena Hennigan and her husband. They want a live-in caregiver for their boys, but they don’t say so here because who wants to stay in someone else’s home these days? Do you want to live in and take care of toddler boys, aged four and two?”

“I want a job, but little kids make me nervous.” What if she only knew how to be the kind of child minder who’d made her younger years a living hell?

“Florist’s delivery?” Raina read the next circled item. “You’d find that fun?”

“Fun?” Daphne shook her head. “I need a job. Fun isn’t part of the equation.”

“But you’d like to enjoy what you do, wouldn’t you?” Raina studied her sister. “Do you ever wonder if you might be prejudiced against wealthy, spoiled women?”

Again Daphne admired Raina’s ability to laugh at herself. Another surge of affection warmed her.

“I thought of one other thing last night,” Raina continued. “I had one paying job.” Suddenly fascinated with the blue lid from the silverware box, Raina twirled it with her index finger and thumb. “I wrote papers for other students one term in college. If anyone had ever found out…”

Daphne formed the word What? with her lips, but couldn’t produce sound. Already, she’d built an image of her sister. Listening while Raina blew it up was like hearing a nuclear explosion. “You—?”

“My father was angry because my grades weren’t—” she lifted her head and shook it “—what he expected from an Abernathy. He threatened to cut off my tuition. I had to make money.”

“You cheated?” Daphne covered her mouth, but too late as the guy from the counter leaned in for a closer look.

Raina followed Daphne’s eyes. By the time she turned back, her skin was burnished pink. “You never did anything wrong?”

Daphne stared at the breakfast Raina had brought. “Plenty of bad stuff. Probably worse than you can imagine. But I never—”

“Well, now you know I’m not perfect.” Raina pushed her chair back. She waved at the plastic on the table. “Just throw that stuff away when you finish.”

“I’m not going to throw away your silverware. Raina, wait. Talk to me. I was surprised. I never meant…”

“You didn’t like what I said.”

She disappeared in a whirl of pink tweed before Daphne could gather up the silverware and damask and plastic and her own bag. Finally, with everything in her arms, she ran to the door.

As it closed in her face, she hit the glass, elbows first. Her right funny bone sang a teeth-clenching song.

“Hey,” said the kid behind the counter.

Daphne looked at him as she fumbled with the metal handle.

He nodded toward the square outside. “She’s mean.”

“She isn’t.” Already, she was protective of Raina, who’d dared to confess one sin. “Leave her alone.”

She finally got the door open and peered both ways on the sidewalk. A woman in red was pushing a stroller, and Daphne hopped back to give her room. A guy in a suit that had never touched a rack looked her up and down so deliberately she could almost see herself burying her fist in his stomach. Maybe she had something against rich, spoiled men, too. A little boy sailed his big, green plastic airplane just beneath her chin, roaring an engine noise.

She couldn’t see Raina.

“What’d you say to her?”

The kid from the counter had followed. Not much else to do.

She shrugged. “That I was disappointed in her.”

“I hate when my dad says that.”

She glanced at him. He nodded, wise despite his youth and coffee-stained Cosmic Grounds T-shirt.

“I was the mean one,” she told the kid.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Raina’s cell number. It rang and rang until voice mail took over. “Raina? I’m sorry. The things I did as a teen you wouldn’t believe.” Wrong tack. The truth was, she’d been shocked, a little dismayed that Raina’s halo had slipped.

Which was ridiculous. Raina would have good reason to board her windows and lock the doors when she finally heard the whole truth about her sister.

“Please, just call me. Trying again might be our best thing. I wouldn’t have the courage to ask you if you hadn’t come to me in the coffee shop yesterday.” She could hardly say her mistake might be a good thing, even though it made her see how much Raina already meant to her. “I think we’re starting to be sisters because I seriously need to explain.”

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