Sapphire Falls: Going Zero to Sixty (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 2

  “Thank you so much. This is great.”

  “Glad you like it. Hope you enjoy your stay.”

  Fifteen minutes later Elle was back in her car, eager pick up a few basic groceries and explore this place she’d decided to call her temporary home.

  Once in the small but well-stocked grocery store, Elle relaxed for the first time. For the first time in years she had nowhere to get to, nobody expecting her, no jobs to finish. Looking through her choices in the bottled drinks display, she reached for a pack of sparkling water when the brush of a long arm shoved her lightly to the side.

  “Hey!” she yelped.

  She recognized the sleek, sandy-colored short pony tail. Although its owner’s face was in profile—she immediately recognized the handsome features, strong nose and stubbled cheeks as those of the ugly car’s driver.

  “I know you’re deciding,” he said without sparing her a glance. “But if I can grab this Gatorade I’ll be out of here. I’m in big rush.”

  “I can see that. For the second time.”

  He looked at her then, and her heart pounded into her throat. Something very familiar gripped her, but her brain power deserted her fully. She had no idea where she’d seen him other than on the road into town. His eyes widened, and for a quick second she thought he was going to apologize—or at least acknowledge he recognized her. Instead he blinked and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

  “Hunh.” He grunted and grabbed the case of sports drinks he’d been after. “Thanks.” He threw the word to her almost like an outfielder tossing a foul ball into the stands as a gift and was gone as quickly as he had been on the road.

  “Oh my gosh,” Elle called. “Rude much?”

  He didn’t turn.

  She followed in his wake, annoyed that she kept noticing the broad shoulders and muscular arms beneath a perfectly-fitted black T-shirt, and made herself shake off the incident, Still it was weird—meeting the same man, experiencing the same rude behavior, in less than half an hour.

  And it wasn’t over. She looked up when she turned a front corner only to see pony tail man and his very handsome, very tall body, pushing through a line of three people at the only open check out. The woman at the end of the line had her arm in a sling, and the one at the front was elderly. She gave a quiet startled cry when the man bulldozed past her.

  Shocked, Elle could only stare as the woman in the middle of the pack patted the old woman gently on the shoulder and spoke in her ear. The older woman nodded.

  Horrible Man proceeded to check out his case of Gatorade and a few other things and then rushed from the store without a single acknowledgment. The elderly woman he’d nearly bowled flat continued through as if nothing had happened. Nobody even looked twice at the man’s fleeing figure. Flames licked at Elle’s cheeks, and anger burned in her chest. What the hell was up with that guy?

  As they had on the road, her emotions took over. She abandoned her cart along with her unpaid merchandise, to scoot through an empty check out and rush for the door. More shock awaited. The ugly Cutlass was already roaring out of the parking lot, preceded by the police cruiser she’d seen earlier.

  “What the crap?” she said aloud. “This is completely nuts. What an idiot!”

  She turned to see the elderly woman coming through the store’s doors. Closer up, the woman’s softly-lined face was serene, and bore a pleasant half smile. She carried a full paper bag and walked slowly but steadily. Elle approached and offered her own smile.

  “Hello,” she said, touching the woman softly on one arm. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  Startlingly chipper blue eyes lifted to hers.

  “Why hello, dear. I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “That man was so rude to you in the store. I saw what happened and thought for a moment he was going to knock you right over.”

  The woman chuckled. “Oh, that Harley. He’s always rushing somewhere. Busiest man in town. Do I know you?”

  For an instant Elle couldn’t answer. The man’s face had been familiar, but Harley? How many guys named Harley could there be in a town this small? She pictured his face, handsome, harried, and slightly grim. The hair was darker than in the news article picture, and the pony tail had thrown her, but the familiarity hadn’t been imagined. She shook her head.

  “No, I’m sorry, you don’t know me. I’m new in town. My name is Elle.”

  “Hello, Elle. I’m Edith.”

  For as confused as she’d appeared inside the store, Edith spoke surely with words clear as mountain water.

  “I’m so glad. At least you had lots of support when he got rude.”

  “Who got rude?” Edith frowned

  “Harley?”

  “Oh, he wasn’t rude. He’s trying to get Chris to his game.”

  “Uh…I see?” Nope, she didn’t see at all.

  “Pay no attention, dear. Harley gets more done in a morning than an army.”

  It was suddenly and clearly time to do as Edith said and let the episode go. Elle had never been a fretter. She could speak up or stand up for herself or others—or she could shut up and walk away. The latter was always harder for her, but she’d learned well at her job that arguing and stewing were pointless exercises. So on the face of things, her new boss appeared to be an asshat, and it was beginning to look as if the town, from this sweet lady to the police, indulged him. The story was undoubtedly more complicated than that—maybe he had Asperger’s syndrome like her nephew did and lacked social skills; maybe he’d had a crappy childhood —but it didn’t matter. She only had to attempt working for the man, and if she hated it or him she’d go back to Kennison Falls.

  She smiled again at Edith. “Can I help you with your bag?”

  “That’s very sweet of you,” the elderly woman said. “But this is my daily workout, so I’m good.” She turned to the door behind them. “But I think you could help Jack there. She’s not used to having only one arm.”

  Elle turned, too, to see the injured woman from the store toting two cloth bags in one hand and balancing a small box on her left, which was swathed in an elastic bandage. A brightly-colored sling held it cocked outward like a broken bluebird wing.

  “Oh my goodness!” Elle rushed to her and grabbed the precarious box of orange clementines. “Let me take something. This looks so painful.”

  The woman sighed. “Thank you so much. It’s my fault; I told them I could manage and waved off help.”

  “With a broken arm?” Elle reached for one of the tote bags as well.

  “No, no just sprained. It was vanity. Silly.” The woman surrendered her bag with a sigh, “I compete in flippin’ triathlons—this should not be an issue.” She squinted slightly at Elle. “I saw you inside. I don’t think I know you.”

  “You don’t. Elle Mitchell. I just arrived in town.”

  “Well, this is very sweet of you.”

  Elle smiled. “I’m happy to help.”

  “I’m Jaqueline Holt. Call me Jack.”

  Holt? Elle’s heart thudded in disbelief. No! How was this possible? The small world she’d fallen into squeezed in on her. Harley Holt, according to his bio, was thirty-one. Jack was middle aged, too old to be a sibling. She would be his mother if they were related, but, but… Please. There had to be two Holt families. That wouldn’t be too strange—even in a small town, would it?

  Sapphire Falls was turning into a giant jigsaw puzzle with the box top picture missing.

  “All right. Jack. I assume these are going to your car…somewhere nearby?” Elle scanned the lot.

  “There.” Jack pointed to a silver-blue Toyota Highlander. “Meet Diana Prince.”

  Elle slanted her a questioning look. “Okay. Wasn’t that the name of Wonder Woman’s aler-ego?”

  Jack laughed. “Exactly. Diana there has never let me down in all the years I’ve had her. She’s been quite the Wonder Woman.”

  Elle couldn’t help it. She liked people who named their ca
rs, especially when they made no apologies for it. “Good enough for me.”

  “Are you all right to drive home?” Edith asked. “That injury is pretty new.”

  “They gave me good drugs. I’m not in any pain—”

  At the words, Jack cut herself off and consternation filled her face. “Oh dear. I just heard that. I shouldn’t be driving after taking Percocet, should I?”

  Immediately concerned, Elle shook her head. After working on cars for so long and seeing the aftermath of too many accidents, she had no problem taking peoples’ keys or warning them away from behind the wheels of their vehicles if she had any doubts about their impairment. “You absolutely should not. Can somebody take you home?”

  Jack sighed. “This is ridiculous. I am already thoroughly sick of being helpless. My son just left and…” She looked around, her eyes frustrated. Clearly she was a woman who normally took care of her own problems.

  “I realize you don’t know me, but I would be happy to drive you home.”

  “Someone will come and fetch your car,” Edith added. “I think you can trust this one.” She smiled at Elle. “I’d take her up on the offer.”

  “Jack? Jack, what were you thinking?”

  A third woman, this one closer to Elle’s age, gorgeous and long-legged in jeans, ankle boots, a bright pink tank top and perfect make-up beneath the crown of a thick blonde ponytail—bustled through the store doors and joined their growing group at the edge of the parking lot. Self-consciously Elle smoothed her loose and slightly ratty traveling jeans along with the comfortable old Abbey Road T-shirt she’d had since high school. Visions of every encounter her tomboy self had had with the cheerleaders and homecoming queens of her past flashed through her mind. She waited for the familiar look-down-the-nose, but it never came.

  “Hi Hailey,” Jack smiled.

  “Hailey” took in the scene, saw the bags and the box of little oranges in Elle’s hands and offered a broad grin. “Oh, good. Thank you! I was worried she was trying to do this all herself. I’m Hailey Bennett; don’t think we’ve met.”

  “She’s just arrived and is playing Good Samaritan,” Jack said.

  Elle stuck her hand out from the bag handles for the third introduction in minutes. “Hi Hailey. Elle Mitchell. It’s true; I just got to town from Minnesota.”

  “There’s a story in that!” Hailey’s handshake was strong and practiced. “Can’t wait to hear it, but let’s get Mizz Holt into her car first.”

  “We’ve just determined that someone should drive her home,” Elle said. “She’s taken a painkiller for her injury and shouldn’t get behind the wheel.”

  “Oh, that’s for sure. Would you like me to take you?”

  “Elle has offered, too,” Edith said.

  “Oh, no problem, whoever you’re most comfortable with,” Elle said quickly.

  “How lovely to have two beautiful girls fighting over me.” Jack laughed but her eyes registered weariness now.

  “I know!” Hailey nodded. “You drive Jack home, Elle. I’ll follow and then bring you back here for your car.”

  “I baked brownies before my run this morning,” Jack said. “And coffee is easily made. But do you really have time, Hailey? I know how busy you are.” Jack raised a brow in Elle’s direction. “Hailey was our mayor until a year ago, and now she’s in charge of our tourism and development. Her civic duties never cease.”

  The puzzle got ever more complicated. Stunning Hailey Bennett had been mayor? What kind of fairy tale place was this? A curl of hope swirled through her. Maybe a place where a woman could find acceptance as a mechanic even with a jerk of a boss?

  “I always have time for coffee and a brownie.” Hailey laughed. “Very little is worth missing that for. Edith, come on along. We won’t stay late and you can regale Elle with old stories from Sapphire Falls.”

  Five minutes later, Elle sat behind the Highlander’s wheel with Jack sighing gratefully beside her. Hailey and Edith were ready behind them in Hailey’s car.

  Mind blown. Elle had definitely never seen her first afternoon in a new place going in this direction. But the women’s friendly warmth, so like what she’d have found in her own home town was hard to resist. She came from a long line of extroverts, so finding kindred spirits had to be a good sign—if she ignored the fact that she’d been led to these spirits by a strange connection to her new boss.

  Not that her new boss had given her any reason for long term optimism.

  Chapter Three

  Elle clung to the faint hope that Jacqueline Holt wasn’t related to Harley until the last moment. However, when Jack ushered her, Hailey, and Edith into a cozy, sky-blue-and-white living room, the hope vanished. Against one wall, on a floor-to-ceiling étagère, a collection of trophies, pictures, medals and ribbons tastefully showed Jack’s pride in a family of winners. Although Elle didn’t snoop closely enough to read the plaque inscriptions, one photo stood out—the same one she and Rio had ogled in the article about Harley Holt.

  Dang.

  “Sit everyone, sit,” Jack said. “I’ll put on the coffee. Elle, dear, do you drink it? Say yes or you’ll never fit in.” She grinned. “Although I have tea or soda, and both are perfectly acceptable. We don’t truly discriminate.”

  Chuckles of agreement made the rounds of the room.

  “Coffee is good but I have to cop to liking it wimpy. With lots of milk?”

  “Cream?” Jack asked.

  “Oh! Who’d say no to real cream?”

  “All right. Sit tight, everyone. I’ll be right back.”

  “Oh no you don’t.”

  Hailey clasped Jack’s good arm and guided her firmly toward a voluptuous, blue flowered armchair. “You will sit right here and I’ll figure out the coffee.”

  “I am not going to let this make me an invalid. It’s a simple sprained wrist.”

  “Well you’re taking one afternoon to recuperate, and I may tell those kids of yours to tie you down for tomorrow, too. Do you ever sit still?”

  “Not easily.” Jack frowned. “And not very willingly.”

  Hailey pointed firmly to the chair seat. “That’s true. My husband, Ty, runs a triathlon training center in town, and he’ll vouch to this one’s stubbornness. Sit unwillingly then, Jacqueline, and tell me where you keep the coffee.”

  Jack sank into the chair, her shoulders shaking with resigned laughter. “Coffee in the upper cabinet left of the refrigerator. Brownies covered in cling wrap in the microwave.”

  Hailey disappeared and Elle sat beside Edith on a blue checked sofa, moving bright yellow and bright red pillows to the side.

  “You have such a pretty home,” she said.

  “Thank you. We’ve been here twenty-one years now and the house has definitely morphed through several versions of decorating. It’s one of my vices—redoing rooms.”

  Elle took in the whole space from the built-in shelving around a massive, white-washed brick fireplace, to the antique sideboard filled with china and a collection of exquisite horse statues. Her eyes fell again on the display of awards. “Looks like your family is successfully into sports. Are those your children?”

  Jack’s features tightened for one brief moment, but she brightened just as quickly.

  “Yes. My crazy crew. With the exception of Aston on top there. He was my middle one, but he passed away five years ago.”

  “Oh, Jack. I’m so sorry.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, sweetheart. It’s true, no-one should ever lose a child. But, my other two have not allowed me to wallow—they are young spitfires make no mistake. I wish my oldest one would settle down and lose his need for speed, but you can’t tell him anything. Chris, at least, broke the family mold and chose a sensible sport.”

  “Baseball,” Edith said. “And he’s going to bring this town a championship this weekend. Even at my advanced age I know that’s something special.”

  “What does your older son do?” Elle wasn’t certain why the need to keep her knowledge of Harl
ey and her own identity so quiet for now felt as strong as it did, but she wanted to hear Jack’s perspective as a parent.

  “He races motorcycles. Or he did,” Jack said. “He’s moved to stock car racing, and I can’t lie. I’m not a fan of going fast in motorized vehicles.”

  “Tell her why nobody blames you for that.” Sadness edged Edith’s kind smile.

  “It’s no more than a mother’s protectiveness and overreaction. Aston was killed in a one-car accident going too fast through a hairpin turn. He, too, wanted to race. But what I have to allow for is that they had two uncles and a grandfather who all owned race cars. It truly is in the blood. I know this.”

  Elle’s heart sank for her new…what? They weren’t yet friends, but Jack seemed like the kind of person it could never hurt to know or have on your side. She thought of her own mother with her four boys and two girls and the fierce protectiveness she never lost or apologized for when it came to her children.

  “I understand,” she said. “I do. I’d be worried, too.”

  She looked back to Harley’s picture—the stunningly handsome image seemed suddenly fragile, almost doomed, in the wake of his mother’s palpable worry. With a mental shake she stopped the ridiculous musings. Accidents happened, and they didn’t carry curses or voodoo or portents of future events.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Jack added. “Harley is a wonderful man. He’s smart and he’s careful. But, dang it, he does love speed. He’s got a garage that caters to high performance and racing cars—not that there are so terribly many stock cars in this area. He’s definitely trying to change that, but I do wish he could find his fulfilment working on normal engines.”

  “Isn’t he trying to add some stock car races to this year’s summer festival?” Edith asked. “He’s been asking for sponsorships around town, I believe.”

  “Oh he certainly is.” Jack nodded. The pain in her face had dissipated, and her eyes sparkled once more. “Tenacious as a cockle burr, my kid. He’s hired a new mechanic—says this one’s credentials will generate even more interest.” She laughed. “I’m so evil, I’d love to meet this fellow first and brainwash him into leaving before he settles in so Harley had to slow down a little with these plans. Isn’t that awful?” The spark in her eyes flashed hotter—half serious.