A Place to Belong

Donny held up an index finger. A diamond winked from his pinky. “Temporarily short of cash. Emphasis on temporary. I got that deal working.”

Jace no more believed him than he could read minds. He blew out a tight breath. He might be a fool, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Gary Henderson. What if Gary had turned his back on Jace? Where would he be today?

This one’s for you, Gary.

“You can bunk here for a few days.”

“I knew I could count on you. Tell you what, old buddy, when I get this deal cooking—”

Jace held up a hand to stop the words. “Listen, Donny, and listen good. No cons. I’m respected in this town. I have a business, friends, a church family. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep a low profile while you’re here.”

Donny went still. Sly awareness crept across his bony face. “I think I’m getting the picture. They don’t know about your little trip up the river, do they?”

Jace shoved his hands in his pockets. “No.”

“And you want to keep it that way.”

Jace’s heart bumped. Not even a town as generous and welcoming as Redemption would do business with him if they knew. “Redemption’s a good town. Good people. Don’t mess with them. Don’t mess with me.”

“Well now, the way I see it is this. I got no reason to tell the good folks of Redemption Jace Carter’s ugly little secret. No reason at all. You help me out, and I’ll return the favor. Get my drift?”

Jace stared into Donny’s glittery eyes and felt the earth shift off-kilter. The promise sounded eerily like a threat.

With a heavy heart, he knew he had no choice but to believe Donny Babcock was all he claimed to be. He only hoped that trust didn’t cost him everything.

Chapter Four

Two weeks later, Jace listened to the chat and clatter inside the Sugar Shack Bakery while he ate his usual breakfast. He was a regular, preferring Miriam Martinelli’s cooking to his own. Other businessmen started their day here as well and he’d learned about more than one restoration job over a plate of bacon and eggs.

This morning he would have liked to sit alone and worry to himself, but the local gathering place was jammed as usual and folks sat wherever they could find a seat.

“Met that friend of yours yesterday, Jace.”

The speaker was Tooney Deer, the local mechanic who owned Tooney’s Tune-Up. The Native American’s chair was crammed between GI Jack and Popbottle Jones. Jace and Sloan Hawkins finished out the group of five seated elbow to elbow at a table intended for four. Thick white platters of pancakes, eggs, and meat along with matching cups of steaming coffee crowded the space even more.

Jace stopped chewing. “Donny Babcock?”

Since his arrival, Donny was slippery as a snake. Jace wasn’t surprised that he was getting around town. Concerned, but not surprised. He wished every thought about Donny wasn’t negative but the man he recalled wasn’t worth anyone’s confidence. Even though he’d saved Jace from certain death that one time, Donny had double-crossed him a few times, too. And the old Donny Babcock would lie when the truth was easier. The new Donny didn’t seem much different.

Jace had offered him a job, primarily to keep an eye on him, but Donny found other things to do. Real labor was never his favorite activity. Like this morning when Jace left the house at six, Donny grumbled something about having business calls to make. Jace was tempted to hang around and see what kind of calls Donny was making, but he had customers waiting.

“Said he’s staying at your place for a few days to help you out.”

That was Donny. Twist the story to suit his purposes.

“He’s here for a few days.” He hoped the stay was brief. Since Donny’s arrival, he felt as if was holding his breath all the time, looking over his shoulder, waiting for the ax to fall.

“He says the two of you go way back.”

“Yeah.” To avoid further conversation, Jace bit off a chunk of buttery toast. The last thing he wanted was questions about how and where and when he’d known Donny Babcock. Small town folks with conservative values didn’t tolerate criminals.

Just last year the local chief of police had been indicted for murder and sent to prison.

“Nice enough fellar, I guess. Kind of jumpy.”

Jace thought the same thing but he’d been alert to any evidence of drugs in the house and hadn’t found any.

“Well, lookee here who’s coming in the door, looking like Mary Sunshine.” GI pointed one of Miriam’s fat buttered biscuits toward the bakery’s glass door.

Kitty Wainright sailed into the bakery, a soft floral skirt swirling around her legs. Jace’s chest clenched. The air in the room seemed to grow lighter, warmer.

Kitty’s pale hair fell long and loose this morning with soft bangs framing her small face. If she ever wore makeup, he couldn’t tell, but with wide blue eyes and skin like a pearl, she needed no enhancement.

“Mighty handsome woman,” GI muttered in Jace’s direction before booming, “Howdy, Miss Kitty.”

Kitty spun, a ready smile blooming. She raised a hand in greeting. “Good morning.”

GI Jack cut his eyes at Jace. “Mmm-hmm. Mighty handsome single woman.”

Jace shoved in a forkful of scrambled egg and pretended his pulse hadn’t kicked into third gear.

“Here’s a spot for you, Miss Kitty.”

After pocketing two fluffy biscuits and a square pack of jelly, GI Jack pushed back from the table.

“I don’t really have time to sit.” But she began winding her way through the chairs and tables in their direction.

“Might as well. I’m leaving, too.” Tooney took a final slurp of coffee and stood. “That’s Pastor Parker bringing in his car right now. Brake job.”

Popbottle Jones rose as well, dignity in the old professor’s movements. From beneath the table, he retrieved a large canvas bag, the collection sack for his recycling business. “Time and tide waits for no man.”

“Yep. Time and tide.” GI’s head bobbed. “The trash man, too.”

The pair of unlikely friends never missed a Dumpster if they could get there before the garbage truck.

Popbottle placed some neatly folded dollar bills beneath his plate and hoisted the canvas bag to his shoulder. The Dumpster divers looked like bums, but Popbottle Jones and GI Jack never failed to tip. “You gents have a blessed day.”

In seconds, three men had departed, leaving Jace and Sloan alone at the table. Jace looked at Sloan with chagrin. “What was that all about?”

Sloan grinned. “I think you know.”

At that moment Kitty arrived, bringing with her the scent of fresh air and sunshine. Jace’s belly knotted in a mix of pleasure and despair. If his friends were matchmaking, they were wasting their time.

Sloan pushed aside a pile of plates to make room for the newcomer. As Kitty settled with feminine grace, Sassy Carlson sailed by, snatched up the plates and swiped a cloth across the tabletop.

“Anything for you, Kitty?” the waitress asked.

“Two dozen doughnuts to go, please. Mixed. When you get a minute.”