The Liar

She started to laugh, saw he was serious. “How about I text you if I have any trouble getting home, all one and a half miles of it? ’Night, everybody. Thanks for the drink, Griff.”

“It was water.”

“I’ll see if I can do more damage next time.”

She walked out happy. Happy enough to roll the windows down despite the chill, turn the radio up and sing along. She didn’t notice the car pulling out after her and following her that mile and a half.

Inside the bar, Forrest switched seats. “Walk her to her car?”

Griff studied his beer. “Your sister’s hot.”

“Don’t make me punch you.”

“You can punch me, but she’ll still be hot.”

Forrest decided to ignore him, shifted his focus to Emma Kate. “It looks like you two made things up.”

“We got a start on it.”

“How much did you get out of her?”

“Enough to be damn sure that dead husband of hers was a son of a bitch. You figured he was, Forrest.”

“Yeah, I figured he was.” Forrest’s eyes chilled; his mouth thinned. “Couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it.”

“What kind of a son of a bitch?” Griff demanded.

“The kind that made her feel stupid and small and kept his money in a tight fist.” The angry heat she’d banked down flashed out now. “The kind who likely had affairs while she was home taking care of the baby—the baby I got the clear impression he didn’t pay much mind to. And there’s more to it, I know there’s more. She didn’t let it all out tonight.”

Emma Kate took a long breath. “I swear, if he hadn’t gotten himself killed, I’d be holding your coat while you kicked his ass, Forrest, or you’d be holding mine.”

“She should’ve done some ass-kicking herself.”

“I bet nobody’s ever made you feel stupid or small.” Griff shook his head. He thought of those sad eyes, and the bright, flirtatious little girl.

His anger went on simmer. It could boil up—long, slow and rolling. If and when it boiled over, it scalded to the bone.

“My sister was hooked up with a guy for a while. Passive-aggressive, manipulative fucker. He twisted her up pretty good, and he only had a few months to do it. No kid involved. People like that, they start off making you feel like you’re the most amazing thing on the planet, you’re perfect, they’re lucky to have you in their life. Then they start chipping away, a little at a time. Got on her to lose weight, and my sis is no pudge.”

“She’s not,” Forrest agreed. “I’ve met her. Your sister’s hot.”

“Well played. This jerk was all over Jolie. Why didn’t she do something with her hair? If she couldn’t afford a better salon since she’s stuck working in some dead-end job, he’d pay for it. His treat.”

“Kick and kiss,” Matt said. “I remember that guy. When Jolie finally broke it off, Griff baited him into taking a swing.”

“I needed to get a punch in, and that way I could say he threw the first.”

“It’s still assault.”

“Shut up, Deputy, it was worth it.”

“Shelby was always so . . . what’s the word?” Forrest muttered.

“Vibrant,” Emma Kate supplied. “She went after things. She wouldn’t walk over somebody to get it, but she’d go head-to-head with you. And if you tried walking over her or somebody else, especially somebody else?” She paused to glance at Griff. “You got your ass handed to you.”

“She’s still vibrant. You two don’t see it maybe because you’ve known her all your lives. But I see it.”

Emma Kate cocked her head at Griff. “Why, Griffin Lott. Shelby said her little girl was smitten with you. Are you smitten with the mama?”

“Her brother’s sitting right here, and he’s already threatened to punch me.”

“She’d be your type,” Matt put in.

“My type?”

“Because you don’t have a type, as long as she’s female.”

“Her brother’s sitting right here,” Griff repeated, and applied himself to his beer.

•   •   •

SHELBY KEPT THE PLAYDATE in the park and enjoyed it nearly as much as Callie. Best of all, she and Chelsea’s mother made an arrangement. Tracey would watch the girls for a few hours while Shelby ran some errands the next day, and two days later, Shelby would do the same for her.

Everybody won a little something.

And maybe, she thought as she once again examined her wardrobe, she’d net herself at least a part-time job.

She opted for a dress—simple lines in pale yellow for spring—and a good pair of nude pumps, with a short white jacket to set it off.

She pulled her hair back into a tail, fastened on earrings with little pearl drops. Costume, as she’d had them since college, but pretty and right for the outfit.

With her mother back at work, she and Callie had the house to themselves, and she didn’t have to explain she was gearing up for a job hunt. If she got lucky and landed one, she’d present it all as a fait accompli.

If she got a job and sold the house? She’d do handsprings up and down High Street in front of God and everybody.

“Mama’s pretty.”

“Callie’s prettier.” Shelby glanced over where Callie sat on the bed, methodically stripping the clothes off two Barbie dolls.

“Baby, why are your Barbie dolls naked?”

“They need to change clothes for Chelsea’s house. Chelsea has a kitty named Snow White. Can I have a kitty?”