Luck Be a Lady - Cathie Linz [95]
“You are notfalling to pieces,” she fiercely ordered herself. “Not in front of the library’s book drop. It’s been six months. Your falling-to-pieces days are done. You’re starting over. Focus on that. Your new life. New job.”
Yes, the pay was low, but it was a job and Marissa was grateful to have it. And yes, she’d have to stay at her parents’ house for a week or two until she got her act together and her first paycheck. But there were worse things, right?
The threat of tears came suddenly and intensely as it often did since walking in on Brad in their bedroom doing the nasty with a female intern from his office. Blinking frantically, Marissa turned onto Book Street and found an empty parking place along the curb. Needing a moment to collect herself, she put the demon VW into park. She missed her Ford Five Hundred, but she hadn’t been able to afford the car payments so she’d had to trade it in. This rust bucket was the only thing in her price range. She’d told the car dealer, “Any color but green.” Yeah, right.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Marissa muttered, glaring at the rusty lime green car hood.
“Are you lost?” The question came from a woman leaning on the open passenger window. “Do you need help?”
Yes, Marissa wanted to reply to both those questions.
“Marissa, is that really you?” the woman asked.
That was the question. Was Marissa really sitting there staring at her high school guidance counselor, Karen Griffith, who always described her as “smart and perky”? Or had Marissa fallen into some alternative universe? Was this all just a bad dream and she’d wake up to find herself in her sleigh bed with her husband . . . her totally committed, non-adulterous husband?
Not gonna happen, her inner voice told her.
“Are you okay?” Karen was staring at her with concern. In high school, she’d always invited the students to call her by her first name, and she cared about their well-being.
“Yes, I’m okay.” Marissa wished she sounded a little more confident.
“Are you sure? You look a little pale.”
“I’m sure.” Not really, but Marissa had become a fairly good liar. Sometimes she could even lie to herself. “Are you still working at the high school?” She’d learned that diverting attention away from herself was a useful tactic.
“Yes. I saw your mom at the grocery store the other day, and she was bragging about how you’re coming home to work at the library. I remember you were an avid reader in school. You always had a book in your hand. You knew early on what you wanted to do with your life. You had a plan. Not many students do.”
Yes, Marissa had had a plan but it certainly hadn’t included a failed marriage or ending up broke.
“Well, I’d better get going. It was nice to see you again. Welcome home.” Karen waved and walked away.
Before Marissa could put the car in drive, her cell phone rang. The ringtone of Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” let her know her mom was calling. At fifty-two, Linda Bennett was a huge Bon Jovi fan and a self-confessed worry-wart. She’d called Marissa every hour since she’d set out very early this morning from just west of New York City, her former home.
“Where are you?” her mom demanded.
“On Book Street by the library.”
A souped-up Camaro pulled alongside her VW with rap music blaring at rock concert decibels, making it hard for Marissa to hear what her mom was saying. “What?”
“ . . . go around the barricade.”
“What barricade?” Marissa asked.
No answer. Marissa’s phone was dead. She’d forgotten to charge it last night before heading out. No big deal. She was only a few blocks from home . . . her safe haven.
Connor Doyle surveyed the crowd gathered for Hopeful’s Founders’ Day Parade. As the town’s sheriff it was his job to make sure that things remained peaceful. Not that Hopeful was a hotbed of trouble or crime. Coming from Chicago, where he’d been an undercover cop in the narcotics division, he knew all about trouble and the worst that humanity had to offer. The brutal murders, the gang violence.
Connor had been a third generation Chicago cop. His