On Her Side

Nora curled her fingers around the barrette, the edge biting into her palm. “Want me to see she gets it back?” she asked quietly.

He lifted a shoulder as his phone buzzed, which she took as an affirmation. He checked his text. “Hold on a sec,” he told her then responded to the message, his fingers flying over the keys.

He kept his head down, the sun turning his curly hair gold. He was handsome and charming, smart and funny and used to having the world by the tail. He was also honest to a fault and young enough to believe everyone else was, too. Until a slip of a girl lied to him.

Anthony, twenty-one and about to start his senior year at Boston University, had gone out with Chief Taylor’s niece Jessica a few times. Until he’d found out that the girl who’d claimed to be a student at Northeastern University was really only a high school junior. He’d been humiliated and furious at being tricked.

But Nora wasn’t sure what upset him most: that Jess had lied to him…

Or that he’d had to let her go.

Now Jessica—who’d moved to Mystic Point when her uncle been granted custody of her—would undoubtedly be around the Sullivans more thanks to Layne and Ross hooking up. They were in for some awkward family holiday celebrations this year.

Nora had warned Layne that her involvement with her boss would cause problems. People really should listen to her more.

“Sorry about that,” Anthony said, tossing his phone back into the console then pulling out onto the road. “What’s wrong with the Lexus?”

“I had a small fender bender,” she said, deciding not to tell him about Layne and Ross. Let Layne break the news to him herself. “I’m going to have to have a headlight—” or two “—replaced.”

Not quite a lie, just not the whole truth. And really, whoever said omission was the same as lying never went to law school.

The next time you feel the need to pound on your car you might want to think about slashing a tire instead. It would’ve been easier and you would’ve saved yourself a lot of grief and about a thousand bucks.

Yes, Griffin had made a valid point. One that had run through her head about a dozen or so times since she’d walked out of his parking lot. She’d been a bit…rash with the headlight-smashing episode.

But really, it had made a much bigger impact than if she’d let the air out of a tire.

“You want to hear something weird?” Anthony asked, sliding her a look, one hand on the steering wheel, the other tapping along to the classic rock song playing softly through the speakers.

She flipped the visor down and checked her hair. Smoothing back a loose strand, she turned this way and that, before snapping the visor shut, satisfied her unleashing hell on her car hadn’t done any serious damage. “Weird like it being eleven after the hour every time you check the microwave clock? Or alien gives birth to Elvis’s love child weird?”

Pulling to a stop at a red light, he faced her, his blue eyes serious and she was reminded that though she’d tried to deny it for years, he wasn’t a kid anymore.

“Weird like guess what I saw in the parking lot of Eddie’s Service station when we passed it? Your car,” he continued before she could answer. “Why would you have Griffin York, of all people, work on your car?”

She shrugged, but the movement came across as irritated instead of casual. “Why shouldn’t I take my car to his garage? From all accounts, he’s a good mechanic.”

Anthony stared at her as if she’d just admitted the story about Elvis’s alien baby was true and she was the mother.

The light changed and he pulled ahead. “What’s going on, Nora?”

“I told you, I had a bit of car trouble.” She snapped her lips together realizing she’d sounded defensive even to her own ears. “Look,” she said, using her mellowest tone, “this isn’t a big deal. And, really, it shouldn’t matter where I take my car to get fixed.”

“It shouldn’t,” he agreed, “but it does. Especially when you’re doing business with the son of the man suspected of Aunt Val’s murder.”

“Dale York is suspected, yes. But it’s not fair to hold Griffin accountable for his father’s sins. They’re not the same person, no matter that they share DNA. You, of all people,” she said gently, “should understand that sons aren’t clones of their fathers.”

He flushed. “This is different than him following his father’s career path.” Like Anthony had done with his own father. But he’d confided to Nora he wasn’t sure he wanted to go into law. “It’s not just who his father is, though that’s part of it,” Anthony admitted as he pulled into the private parking lot of Sullivan, Saunders and Mazza, the law firm where they both worked—she as an associate lawyer, he as an intern. “Griffin is not exactly a model citizen.”

“Speculation,” she said breezily, unbuckling her seat belt and reaching down for her things. “Rumors based on who his father is.”

“More like based on who he is and how he acts.” Anthony reached into the back for his laptop. “I heard he beat the hell out of a guy down at the Yacht Pub all because he didn’t like how the man was looking at him.”

She refrained—barely—from rolling her eyes. “And I heard it was a tourist who’d had too much to drink and was looking for a fight. A fight Griffin didn’t give him, obviously, as no charges were filed against him.” She climbed out and shut the door. “You can’t believe everything you hear, which is why a good attorney doesn’t take anything into account other than what they can prove,” she said, softening her subtle rebuke with a gentle hip check. “And the fact is that Griffin is an excellent mechanic.”

“I still don’t like it,” Anthony grumbled, stopping at the doors to the building. “What’re Uncle Tim and my dad going to think when they find out about this?”

“They’re not going to think anything because there’s no reason for either of them to know.” She squinted up at him—why everyone in her family had to be taller than her, she had no idea. “I love you. I do. If I had a little brother, I’d want him to be fairly similar to you.”

He grinned, all confident charm. “I am pretty awesome.”

She shook her head but couldn’t help but smile in return. “That you are. But I don’t want you to worry about me.” She had more than enough people doing that in her life already. “Let’s not make a major issue out of this.”

His eyes narrowed as if he could somehow see inside her head and discern fact from fiction. “Are you sure all you want from York is his mechanical skills?”

“Absolutely.” The lie caused only the slightest twinge of regret. Sometimes the greater good called for a bit of subterfuge.

“Fine,” he said, sounding as put out as he used to when he was a teenager and she refused to buy him beer. “I won’t say anything—”

“To anyone.”

“To anyone,” he repeated dutifully as he held open the door for her to enter the building. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t find out.”

She doubted that. It wasn’t like her taking her car to Griffin’s garage was some juicy tidbit of gossip. Besides, the rumor mill was already busy enough talking about her mother’s death, Dale’s mysterious disappearance off the face of the earth and her family’s past. Soon they’d be all atwitter about the police chief and assistant chief hooking up.

Such was life.

You couldn’t live in a small town and escape rumors and speculation. When the remains were found, her mother’s past had been dug up, her family’s personal business printed in the Chronicle along with the day’s weather report and the scores from last night’s men’s softball games.

It’d never bothered Nora, not in the same ways it had her sisters or her father. Probably because she’d been so young when her mother had disappeared. Or maybe it was because she’d understood at an early age that she couldn’t escape the gossip so instead, she’d decided to give the town something to talk about. Good things. Positive things. They could talk, but she’d made sure they did so on her terms.

It was easy enough. She’d just been herself. And in doing so had found herself elected homecoming queen and earned the spot of valedictorian of her high school graduating class. Her successes had carried over into college and then law school and she had no reason to think any of that would change now that she worked at her uncle Kenny’s law firm. She was used to the spotlight.

She had to admit, she rather enjoyed being all lit up that way. Call it an inflated ego, but she did so love shining bright for all to see.

But maybe this one time she could slip under the radar.

Anthony followed Nora into the cavernous foyer, with its expensive tile floor and high ceilings. She waved at the firm’s receptionist, Jodi McRae, as they passed and went down the hall toward their offices.

Nora stopped outside her closed door and moved her laptop to the hand already holding her briefcase. “How about lunch today?” she asked. “My treat for you picking me up.”

“You sure it’s a thank-you gesture and not a bribe for my agreeing to keep my mouth shut?”

“Who says it can’t be both?”

“I do hate to say no to a good bribe, so yeah. Okay.”

“Great. You choose the restaurant. Thanks again for the ride.”