Felicity a thick mug filled with coffee. “Oh, good. You found some of your old things.”
Felicity tugged on the hem of the tight T-shirt she wore, then sank onto the plastic cushion of one of the metal-legged chairs drawn up to the formica table. To ease the equally snug fit of her pair of worn jeans, she wiggled.
“They were all there. Right where I left them when I went off to USC.” The whole house was exactly as she’d left it, from the boarded-up second story windows to the neglected pots of cactus lining the cracked-cement front walkway.
In the case of her clothes, she supposed she should be glad. While she’d planned to arrive in Half Palm dressed in her awards-ceremony finery and driving her beautiful new convertible—undeniable proof she didn’t belong in this place with them—instead she’d been towed into town wearing nothing more than a survival blanket.
Thank God it had barely been daylight.
Even though brewed in a chrome percolator that must be as old as she was, the coffee tasted good. Felicity gulped it down with her eyes closed, aware that Aunt Vi was hovering in a way that spelled out more trouble.
With half the cup downed, she made herself look up.
Aunt Vi smiled. “Good news!” From behind her back, she whipped out something that she then set in front of Felicity.
Her mug at her lips, she froze. Her Joanie.
Aunt Vi came around behind Felicity as if to admire the statuette from her same angle. “Is this what you told me about when you arrived this morning? Is this your award?”
Felicity found she couldn’t speak. It couldn’t be! Her Joanie, her perfect, gleaming prize, was now nicked, dented, and scratched.
“Your Uncle Billy brought it over,” Aunt Vi continued. “He thought you might want it with you since your car won’t be ready for…uh, for a bit.”
Felicity swung around to look at her aunt. It was better than looking at the scraped and bent disaster that had once been her golden Joanie. “What do you mean, my car won’t be ready for a bit? I told Uncle Billy to get it to the point where I can drive it back to L.A. I’ll have the body work done there.”
Aunt Vi shrugged, moving across the kitchen with Felicity’s cup to pour her more coffee. “I don’t know. Something about a drive shaft? He said it isn’t safe to tow it any farther.”
Felicity could feel her blood pressure rising. It was a burning sensation that rose from somewhere around her stomach to wrap strangling hands around her neck. “Aunt Vi, do you know why my car is at Uncle Billy’s in the first place? Did you know he’s up to his old tricks?”
Aunt Vi fluttered her hands. The Charm women all fluttered when directly asked about nefarious practices. Add to that the fact that Aunt Vi was born a ditherer, then straight talk and simple action were outside her MO. “I don’t know anything.”
Felicity sighed, because that was the first thing Charms were taught. If anyone asked, deny, deny, deny. “He’s salting the outlying roads with nails, Aunt Vi. Remember that little scam of his? The one he used some years ago to pick up business at the tire repair shop? I thought he’d sworn to the sheriff he wouldn’t do it again.”
“We have a new sheriff now. Sheriff Mendoza retired.” Aunt Vi set the refilled mug beside the mangled Joanie. “He’s living near his daughters in Tempe. I miss that man.” She beamed a fond smile.
Felicity rolled her eyes. The only thing a Charm would miss about an authority figure was the opportunity to avoid one.
“Aunt Vi, I could have been hurt,” she said, shoving that out-of-body memory from her head. “And not just me, there was also M—”
But there was no reason to say the name aloud, not when she was halfway to convincing herself the whole Michael part of the night before had been some weird after-accident dream as well. Felicity would never have begged a stranger for sex!
It simply had not happened. Her lingering headache was easily
Felicity tugged on the hem of the tight T-shirt she wore, then sank onto the plastic cushion of one of the metal-legged chairs drawn up to the formica table. To ease the equally snug fit of her pair of worn jeans, she wiggled.
“They were all there. Right where I left them when I went off to USC.” The whole house was exactly as she’d left it, from the boarded-up second story windows to the neglected pots of cactus lining the cracked-cement front walkway.
In the case of her clothes, she supposed she should be glad. While she’d planned to arrive in Half Palm dressed in her awards-ceremony finery and driving her beautiful new convertible—undeniable proof she didn’t belong in this place with them—instead she’d been towed into town wearing nothing more than a survival blanket.
Thank God it had barely been daylight.
Even though brewed in a chrome percolator that must be as old as she was, the coffee tasted good. Felicity gulped it down with her eyes closed, aware that Aunt Vi was hovering in a way that spelled out more trouble.
With half the cup downed, she made herself look up.
Aunt Vi smiled. “Good news!” From behind her back, she whipped out something that she then set in front of Felicity.
Her mug at her lips, she froze. Her Joanie.
Aunt Vi came around behind Felicity as if to admire the statuette from her same angle. “Is this what you told me about when you arrived this morning? Is this your award?”
Felicity found she couldn’t speak. It couldn’t be! Her Joanie, her perfect, gleaming prize, was now nicked, dented, and scratched.
“Your Uncle Billy brought it over,” Aunt Vi continued. “He thought you might want it with you since your car won’t be ready for…uh, for a bit.”
Felicity swung around to look at her aunt. It was better than looking at the scraped and bent disaster that had once been her golden Joanie. “What do you mean, my car won’t be ready for a bit? I told Uncle Billy to get it to the point where I can drive it back to L.A. I’ll have the body work done there.”
Aunt Vi shrugged, moving across the kitchen with Felicity’s cup to pour her more coffee. “I don’t know. Something about a drive shaft? He said it isn’t safe to tow it any farther.”
Felicity could feel her blood pressure rising. It was a burning sensation that rose from somewhere around her stomach to wrap strangling hands around her neck. “Aunt Vi, do you know why my car is at Uncle Billy’s in the first place? Did you know he’s up to his old tricks?”
Aunt Vi fluttered her hands. The Charm women all fluttered when directly asked about nefarious practices. Add to that the fact that Aunt Vi was born a ditherer, then straight talk and simple action were outside her MO. “I don’t know anything.”
Felicity sighed, because that was the first thing Charms were taught. If anyone asked, deny, deny, deny. “He’s salting the outlying roads with nails, Aunt Vi. Remember that little scam of his? The one he used some years ago to pick up business at the tire repair shop? I thought he’d sworn to the sheriff he wouldn’t do it again.”
“We have a new sheriff now. Sheriff Mendoza retired.” Aunt Vi set the refilled mug beside the mangled Joanie. “He’s living near his daughters in Tempe. I miss that man.” She beamed a fond smile.
Felicity rolled her eyes. The only thing a Charm would miss about an authority figure was the opportunity to avoid one.
“Aunt Vi, I could have been hurt,” she said, shoving that out-of-body memory from her head. “And not just me, there was also M—”
But there was no reason to say the name aloud, not when she was halfway to convincing herself the whole Michael part of the night before had been some weird after-accident dream as well. Felicity would never have begged a stranger for sex!
It simply had not happened. Her lingering headache was easily
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