Making It Right. Kathy Altman
Endicott, right?” Her smile was tentative, but at least it was a smile.
Here we go. Kerry entwined her fingers in her lap and squeezed. “I really want to say no.”
The other woman chuckled, though the sound held more strain than humor. “You look too much like your father for that to work. Before he lost all his hair, anyway.” She stretched out a hand. “I’m Eugenia Blue.”
Her father’s ex. Kerry nodded. “I recognized your voice.”
Her blush deepened. The one and only time she’d spoken to Eugenia, she’d begged her over the phone for a loan. Kerry released Eugenia’s hand. “Do you have some time? I’d appreciate the chance to talk.” She caught the other woman’s flinch and rushed to add, “About paying you back.”
Eugenia averted her gaze. “I’d like to talk with you, too.”
Kerry exhaled. Progress. She might not look thrilled about it, but at least Eugenia hadn’t followed Harris’s example and refused to speak with her.
Eugenia bit her lower lip as she glanced around the diner, then down at Kerry’s table, bare of all but condiments and a coffee cup. “Are you waiting for an order?” When Kerry shook her head, Eugenia motioned toward the door. “Then why don’t you come back with me to my shop?” She gave the bag a gentle shake. “I just happen to have two of Cal’s famous cinnamon rolls in here. I had every intention of eating them both, so please say you’ll come save me from myself. Besides, you need more than coffee for breakfast.”
WONDERING WHAT EXACTLY she was letting herself in for, Kerry followed Eugenia out of the diner and down State Street. Flowering cherry trees shaded the sidewalks and shed pale pink petals that clung like glitter to wrought iron benches, lampposts, trash cans. Old-fashioned storefronts competed for attention with boldly painted doors, brightly striped awnings and outdoor lights hung in half moons.
“I can see why my father likes it here.” Kerry scooted out of the way of a man setting up a sidewalk sign advertising tiger butter fudge.
“‘Dark chocolate, white chocolate, peanuts and peanut butter,’” Eugenia read. She smacked her lips and tugged Kerry away from the sign. “Sounds amazing but trust me, after eating one of Cal’s cinnamon rolls, you won’t have room for even a whiff of fudge.”
Fifteen minutes later, they sat on either side of a café table in the back room of Eugenia’s chic but playful dress shop, walled in by unpacked boxes and racks of clothes. Eugenia had given Kerry a whirlwind tour—conservative silk blouses paired with bright sequined scarves, and a crocheted sheath dress on a model wearing purple high-tops. That had been an instant mood lifter, and Eugenia seemed gratified when Kerry said so. Between them rested a freshly brewed pot of Constant Comment and a china plate that seemed far too fragile for the pair of dinosaur-egg-sized cinnamon rolls Eugenia had lovingly arranged on it.
“How long have you been in town?” Eugenia forked a roll like it was a porterhouse steak, plopped it onto another plate and handed it to Kerry.
Kerry watched Eugenia do the same with the second roll and felt her eyes stretch wide. No way her slim-hipped hostess could polish off one of these things, let alone two.
“Kerry?”
“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” She accepted a fork and a linen napkin, which she smoothed over the knees of her gray pants. “I’ve been here a couple of days now.”
“So you have seen your father.”
“Briefly.” Kerry took her time with the cup and saucer Eugenia handed her next. “He...wasn’t feeling it. Not that I can blame him.” China trembled against china. She tipped forward and set her tea on the table before looking up. “But this is about you. I don’t even know how to apologize for what I’ve done, let alone make it right.”
“That’s not necessary,” Eugenia began.
“Of course it is. Please don’t be any kinder than you already have been. I don’t deserve it. I borrowed money from you, a stranger, knowing full well I couldn’t pay it back. In fact, we both know borrow isn’t the right word.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweater. “Besides. I’m the reason you and my father broke up.”
Eugenia bristled. “He told you that?”
“I took advantage of you, and that must have humiliated him. He has a lot of pride.” Unlike his daughter.
Eugenia made a sound of half frustration, half affection. “Too much pride. He’s also a stubborn ass.”
Kerry surprised them both with a smile. “Do you still love him?”
Eugenia snatched up her plate, forked up a generous bite of pastry and took her time chewing. Finally she pointed the fork at Kerry. “You know what? You’re right. You do owe me. But the debt is between you and me. Please don’t entertain any misguided notion about getting Harris and me back together. That won’t square us.”
“I understand.”
“Good. So. When you said Harris wasn’t ‘feeling’ your reunion...”
“He’s not ready to talk yet.”
“Yet?” Eugenia set down her fork. “Does that mean you’re going to stick around until he does? I admire your determination, but that could take a while. If you do manage to find a job, the cost of a motel room will gobble up your paycheck.”
“I’d hoped to stay with Dad.” The word already felt too intimate to use. “But that request was a bit premature. Anyway, my plan is to get a job and start paying down my debts. You and Dad are the top two people on my list.”
It all came down to money, didn’t it? Her abuse of it had landed her in this situation. Her lack of it meant she wouldn’t be getting out of said situation anytime soon.
She needed a job.
Eugenia seemed to read her mind. “What kind of work are you looking for?”
“Anything, really.” Kerry had enjoyed her position as a database administrator for a government contractor, but the felony conviction had meant the loss of her security clearance. Her probation officer had found her a data entry position at a telemarketing firm. She’d almost rather wait tables. Not that she could afford to be selective. “I haven’t had any luck yet, but there are several places I haven’t checked.”
Eugenia hesitated.
Despite the tea warming her cup, Kerry’s fingers felt stiff with cold. “Did you bring me here to tell me I should just head back to North Carolina?”
“Goodness, no.” The pitch of Eugenia’s voice made it clear her surprise was unfeigned. “I think it’s brave of you to be here, and the right thing to do. Your father will come around.”
“I don’t know if he will. I don’t know if he should. But I have to try.” Eugenia crossed and uncrossed her legs for the second time. Dread kicked up the chaos again in Kerry’s belly and she pushed away her untouched roll. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
Eugenia opened her mouth, closed it, jerked forward. Tea sloshed over the rim of her cup onto her saucer. “There’s an apartment upstairs,” she blurted. “It’s been sitting vacant since I bought a house a few months ago. It’s yours if you want it. You can work for me, here at the shop.” She motioned with her chin at the cartons stacked to her right. “I have twenty boxes of summer inventory waiting to be unpacked, with more on the way.”
Slowly Kerry collapsed against the back of her chair. “That’s incredibly kind of you. Especially considering what I put you through. But Eugenia, if I do either of those things, my father will never speak to me again.”
“It’s not