Author: Robyn Carr
“I have a new employee. A former employee, actually. He’s worked for me on and off since I got into this business. He showed up out of the blue, which he usually does, but today it was just when I was really needing someone like him. His name is Al Michel—damn fine mechanic. I told him I’d see if you have plans and if you’re busy—like with steak soup or something else—I can take him to Cliffhanger’s for dinner. Oh, and I gave him my motel room.”
She grinned at that. “So. You’re finally ready to commit?”
“I’ve committed to bringing the last of my clothes. Come here,” he said. “Come closer. I want to feel your naked slippery body up against me.”
“I’m not having sex in the tub.” She laughed. “I was relaxing. I’m okay with you asking Al over for dinner.”
“Are you sure?”
“You have to go get one more bread bowl from Cliff—I stopped and got two. And you can’t let him stay too late.”
“I’ll get the bread bowl. I’ll get rid of him early. But you’ll like him. He’s one of those easy, laid-back wrenches. He’ll be good to have around the garage. He’s an uncomplicated guy—kind of sticks to himself, but he’s not unfriendly at all. You’ll see. Just a good old Midwestern farm boy.”
Al wasn’t old or young, Laine realized immediately. He looked to be in his fifties with a toned body and full head of brown hair threaded with gray. He was very pleasant, had an easy smile, a sense of humor, made eye contact and yet didn’t have a lot to say. He came from a small farm town—Boone, Iowa—but left there as a young man. Growing up, they called him Mick, short for Michel. He’d been married once, when he was a very young man, and he must not have been very good at it because his young wife invited him to depart. He’d been single since. He had worked in many different areas—construction, mechanics, the occasional factory, drove a semitruck and did farm work as a fallback. He lived cheap and traveled when he could. He had one sister who was busy saving the human race, one third-world country at a time. She worked for a Christian charity and moved around the world. She was single, as he was, and there was no more family in Iowa, but he still went back there about once a year, just to check in with his hometown.
Then he left to go back to the hotel, thanking her for the great soup. Eric walked him to his truck, then came back to Laine.
“He said to thank you again,” Eric said. “And he asked if you were a cop.”
That sent up red flags. “Ohhh, he might be hiding something if he caught on to my questions. I’m sorry, I tried not to do that, it’s just so automatic!”
“I told him you were a psychologist.” Eric laughed. “And he’s not hiding anything.”
“How do you know?”
“He was one of my first employees in Eugene and my parole office had to approve every one. Al is exactly what he appears to be—a good old farm boy who travels, takes jobs when he needs to, moves around.”
“Women?”
“I’ve seen him with a woman or two,” Eric said. “That’s all I know. That’s all I want to know. Seriously.”
“You really like him,” she said.
“He’s always looking out for me. He was working for me when I found out about Ashley—he thought that was very cool, that I was getting a second chance. I didn’t know he’d been married once. Men don’t ask those kind of questions, in case you haven’t figured that out. I asked him all the places he’d worked and lived and he got a very big kick out of it since I was an ex-con kid and he’s fifteen or twenty years older and hasn’t been in any trouble. That I know of.”
“Isn’t it strange? The way he just ambles around, picking up jobs here and there?”
“No,” Eric said. “Not in a business like mine. It’s good work. Requires skill. And if he was a problem around the shop, I wouldn’t welcome him back. All right?”
“I hope you keep an eye on things,” she advised.
He pulled her against him. “Laine, it’s my store. I keep an eye on everything, everyone. Even you.”
“Hmm,” she said, stiffening. “Well, that’s good, I guess.”
“What’s good comes next. Let’s see how fast I can do the dishes and get you into bed.”
“Okay, I’ll help with the dishes.”
“You’re on the insatiable side,” he said.
“That’s true, yet another thing I didn’t know about myself. Coming home to you is still the best part of my day even if you only barely took your last personal item out of your backup motel room.”
Al Michel’s life wasn’t as uncomplicated as he let on, though he worked hard at making it appear so. He’d had troubles just like anyone else. Like Eric, who had that old wild-youth thing to live with. It didn’t take him long to get the lay of the land. And, as he got to know some of the folks in town, it was as he expected—there were other folks who looked as though they were holding life together real well, when in fact they had their own issues. That Cooper, very nice guy, found out he had a son by an old girlfriend just a year or so ago. Gina and Mac, they’d gone through a lot before getting to a place where they could combine families and enjoy a peaceful existence—as peaceful as a house full of teenagers would allow. The young town doctor—he’d lost his wife with the birth of his second child. And Devon? Pretty, young Devon—she’d gotten herself involved in some cult. Of course as a rule folks didn’t tell a newcomer like Al their life stories—they told other people’s stories. Whether it was at the pump, in the diner, out at the beach bar, it didn’t matter. All he had to do was answer the question “Who have you met so far?” and the next tale had something to do with one of his new acquaintances.
There was a cute little real estate agent who liked to have a glass of wine at Cliffhanger’s bar. Apparently she didn’t have much of a story except that her clothes were too sexy and she was a flirt, two qualities that Al found completely desirable. Her name was Ray Anne and she made him laugh so two Friday nights in a row he financed her wine. Then while he was at work, he heard the little ping that announced a customer at the pump and he looked out the window to see her BMW. “I’ve got this one,” he told Justin.
“She must sure do a lot of driving. Isn’t that her fourth time here this week?”
“Might be,” Al said. “I’m not keeping track. Are you?”
Justin laughed and shook his head. “Yeah,” he said. “And so are you.”
He was, in fact. He enjoyed Ray Anne’s company and looked forward to every encounter.
In no time at all he could tell he was well-liked in town. Probably because he was a real friendly sort. He’d look over the menu at the diner and ask Gina, “What’s good today?” And she’d tell him exactly what to order. He was never unhappy and always left a generous tip. The same applied at the deli and again at Cooper’s place on the beach. All his change went into a big jar that he would soon begin taking to the local bank every month to have added to his new account. It was so simple and tidy.
He found there was much about Thunder Point to suit him. That ordinary little motel room worked just fine. He tended to like boarding houses. He only had to be concerned about himself and one room yet there was a sense of family, even if it was usually a haphazardly thrown together and odd family, but no attachment required. Boarding houses were almost a thing of the past and pretty hard to find. He thought the demise of the boarding house was a great loss to society.
This town, with its clinic, diner, beach bar, deli and garage, it was like a big boarding house. He got used to seeing the same people over and over and before very long they were not just cordial, but connected, making him feel like a new friend. And that was really all Al was looking for.
Al had known Manny for a long time. Manny had been with Eric for a good eight years and helped to manage a lot of the business. He was good under the hood and with restoration and body repair—he could really do it all. Al was good at engines and priceless at keeping things spotless. And Manny liked paperwork, which Al hated.
He’d been in Thunder Point and back in Eric’s shop for a few weeks when Eric said, “I’m putting Justin with you. He wants to learn a few things about engine repair and I figured when things are running a little slow at night, maybe you can show him a thing or two.”
“If that’s what you want,” Al said.
“Try to soften him up a little, will you? He’s prickly as a cactus. I don’t know if it’s because he’s seventeen or if he has other problems. I’d like the kid to have a chance.”
“What makes you think he doesn’t have a chance?” Al asked.
Eric shook his head. “He reminds me of me. Except Justin hasn’t figured out cool yet. I had too much cool for my own good. This kid, he just doesn’t add up.”
“I’ll pay attention,” Al said. “I’ll ask him if he wants me to show him a few things.” But, he thought, most of us probably don’t add up.
Ten
April brought yet more sunshine to Thunder Point and Laine felt her life was more stable than it had been in too long.
She was enjoying working as a consultant for the sheriff’s department, researching their investigations to advise on driving their prosecution to the federal level. She was also doing the odd job for the Bureau. The sheriff’s department work was more satisfying than consulting for the Bureau, but it occurred to her that she could make a painless career doing background checks for schools, industry, law enforcement, et cetera. The problem for Laine was that she kept tripping over infractions. Serious and felonious breaches. A routine check for admission to the police department turned up a felon who failed to disclose his long and rather colorful record; a teacher application to a public school showed a history of sex crimes in another state. She was like a bloodhound—she could smell it. Her instincts had become razor-sharp. She knew she was useful in this new capacity and that worked for her for now.
She was also getting back in shape. The dojo she had joined was an excellent workout facility and she had a private instructor and well-known acupuncturist—her shoulder and elbow hardly bothered her these days. The town of Thunder Point was her new playground; she had friends and fun—two things that had never registered high on her list of priorities. And she had Eric, the kind of wonderful, smart, passionate man she never expected to have in her life.
But she hadn’t seen Pax or his family since Christmas. Missy was getting ready for her spring concert. Sissy was practicing for a dance recital. She had the time and the money to get home to check in with them, feel the hugs of the little girls and experience that odd connection with Pax that only twins had. They’d often talked about it, the way they knew when they needed each other, and speculated on how logical it was for identical twins and how illogical for fraternal, who were mere siblings. And yet...
“What about Senior?” Pax asked.
“I’d rather skip that, if you don’t mind. Unless he insists on being present for the concert or something.”
“I’ll mention to Genevieve that you’re still avoiding him. I’ll ask her not to call him. The truth is, I haven’t seen much of him lately. I talk to him every week, just long enough for each of us to say we’re fine and nothing is new. And our schedules are... You know how they are. I think it’s very unlikely he’d make a surprise visit while you’re here. In fact, if I were an investigator, I’d suspect him of laying low since that row at Christmas. He offended everyone, not just you.”
“I drew a line in the sand,” she said. “We don’t communicate again until he apologizes and stops ridiculing me. He went too far.”
