The Moment of Truth

“Of course. She knows where I am 24/7,” he said. “She always has. It’s about the only thing she’s ever asked of me.”

At least, the only thing she’d asked that he’d heard and complied with.

He wasn’t ready to know about all the times he hadn’t listened, wasn’t ready to be accountable for all the hurt he must have caused his mother over the years.

But he was getting there. One day at a time.

* * *

LORI WAS BACK Sunday afternoon, but only to drop off a catnip toy she’d bought for Kari, a thank-you to Dana for letting her spend the night twice that week.

She also let her know that she’d be in town for Thanksgiving and would love to help cook if Dana’s dinner offer still stood.

Sensing that the girl’s feelings were hurt by her father’s choice to go hunting instead of spending the holidays with her, Dana invited Lori in on the pretense of planning the menu for the holiday. She was planning to cook enough food for twenty people to come and go throughout the day. If she had lots of leftovers, all the better. She just didn’t want to run out.

What she hadn’t expected, while she and Lori were sitting at the kitchen table just before dark, was for the other woman to ask about Josh.

“Did you invite Little Guy’s new owner?” Lori asked, tapping a finger on the edge of the tablet she’d been using to keep their list.

“No.” She hadn’t even thought about it. And she should have. She’d planned to invite everyone she came in contact with that she knew was alone. Or even might be alone.

“I thought you said he’s new to town. And lives alone.”

“Yeah, he is. And he does.”

“Did you not invite him because he’s not a student like us?”

“He’s not much older than I am. Three or four years, maybe.”

She’d seen a soiled Harvard shirt thrown on top of the washer when she’d taken her empty tea can into the laundry room to throw it away. Emblazed on it was a year four years prior to what hers would have been had she gone to college straight out of high school.

She’d asked him if Harvard was his alma mater.

And as he’d answered in the affirmative, he’d sounded slightly lost again.

“I think he went to college on scholarship,” she said now, saying out loud what she’d thought at the time. His reaction to having been a student at Harvard had been odd. It had reminded her of how she’d felt working at the furniture store, bearing the same last name as the one written on the marquee out front, but not being an heir to the business.

She was a Harris, but the name had been given to her, not earned consequence of biology.

After she and Daniel had found out about the lie her mother had told them both about Dana’s parentage, Dana had not only been taken out of Daniel’s will, but shuffled to the back corner of the family.

She’d felt like a modern-day Cinderella. And Josh Redmond seemed to have the same reaction when asked about his alma mater.

“He’s a nice guy,” she told Lori, remembering how Josh had gotten down on the floor to clean up his dog’s mess without a moment’s hesitation. “I was afraid, when I saw the state his bathroom was in, and this after he’d already lost a night’s sleep, that he was going to tell me to take Little Guy back. But he never even hinted at wanting to get rid of him.”

“I hear he’s gorgeous. A friend of mine had to go to the business office Friday afternoon to see to something about her scholarship and he was there, introducing himself. She told me about him because he was so hot, but when you told me about Little Guy’s new owner, I knew it had to be the same guy. I guess he starts work on Monday. He has an office upstairs in the admin building.”

Dana wasn’t going fishing for information. But she wasn’t above listening to gossip.

“I can’t believe someone as hot as he is doesn’t have a girlfriend. Or a wife,” Lori said.

“I know, right?” Dana agreed. And remembered the soulful look in Josh’s eyes. The lost look. “I wondered if he was married and his wife died,” she said. “I don’t know that, so don’t say anything to anyone. I honestly have no idea and don’t want to start rumors. I just...like you, I find it hard to believe that he’s way out here starting a new life all alone.”

“Yeah, well, if this town’s anything like Bisbee, I’m guessing it won’t be long before we all know who he is and where he came from.”

Which suited Dana just fine. The one thing she could not tolerate, on any level, was someone keeping their identity secret. Broken-heart secrets were fine. Everyone had a right to their privacy.

But not to lie about who they were. In a bigger town, like Richmond, a person could show up and claim they were anyone and no one bothered to look past the words. To know that they were lies.

Innocent people got hurt by those kinds of lies.

Lives were ruined by them.

Anyone who didn’t believe her could just ask her stepfather. The man who’d once thought she was the brightest apple of his eye.

And, later, couldn’t bear to look at her at all. Because she had another man’s eyes.

* * *

SOAPS OF ALL KINDS had found their temporary home on the shelf above the washing machine. Lined up by type, they fit. One by one he’d try them out. See what was good or bad about the different kinds and land on the brand he liked.

And it was his own damned fault that he hadn’t known what had worked until now. He knew who had worked for him: her name was Betty Carmichael. She was in her mid-fifties and had a family with children and grandchildren—he wasn’t sure how many—and he liked her a lot. She’d come with the condo he’d received upon his graduation from Harvard.

It seemed so long ago now. Hard to believe that in eight years of working and flying around the world, taking on daring adventures and making life about his own enjoyment, he’d never once thought about making a home for himself.

Michelle would have taken care of that.

And he’d have been perfectly content to let her do so.

Just as he’d been content to let Betty do all of his shopping for him, to make his choices for him, down to what kind of toilet paper and toothpaste he used. Hell, he hadn’t even had to find the pack of toilet paper and take out a roll, which might have given him a clue to what kind it was...maybe. No, there’d been brass cylinders beside every commode in the condo, each holding four rolls, and Betty had always kept them filled.

She’d worked every single day that he was in town. And was off whenever he was gone. The arrangement had suited him. And apparently it had suited her, as well.

He hoped her new employer, the couple who’d purchased the condo and agreed to keep her on, would be good to her.

Little Guy woke up. Josh turned as soon as he heard the movement in the kennel on the kitchen counter behind him.

Before the puppy could so much as stretch, Josh had him out of his cage and out the back door. He was getting this part down. Having been peed on during his way out the door twice in the past twenty-four hours, he was learning the hard way.

But he was learning and he had a question. Pulling out his phone, he easily found the number he needed from his recent call list and hit the send button.

Standing outside, watching every move the puppy made as he trampled over his feet in the dirt, Josh listened to the line ring. Little Guy had only been asleep for an hour. And he’d gone to the bathroom right before Josh had put him in the kennel. It was possible he didn’t have business to do.

“Hello?” She answered on the third ring.

“Dana? It’s Josh. I hope I’m not disturbing you...”

“Of course not. What’s up? How’s Little Guy doing?”