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What the hell. Maybe this quirky, little-old lady was one of those people who believed truth was stranger than fiction. “Mrs.…”
“Cummings, Ina Cummings.”
“Mrs. Cummings, my name is Eric Laine. I’m an actor, actually a movie star, a big one, very famous.” He flashed a fawning smile and rattled his ridiculous monologue without stopping for breath. “My ex-wife lives here in Cromline. I’ve only seen her twice in nine years, but I’m still madly in love with her. I’m married to someone Idon’tlove, but I’m getting a divorce. I can’t leave town until I’ve had a chance to straighten things out with my first wife. If I stay at the Best Express, I’ll be recognized, and I don’t want the distraction. Oh, and I think my ex may be dating the scum-sucker, so I’m probably going to have to kick his ass.”
Ina Cummings’ alert eyes popped wide. “Movie star! Well, that’s the best one I’ve heard in years. Come on in.”
****
Ash Baldwin barely lifted his head to greet Cheryl as she stepped into his office. “If you’re looking for my brother, he’s not here.”
Appearing unfazed, she offered him the gushing smile of a schoolgirl with a crush. “I came here to see you, not Teddy. I thought we could grab some lunch.”
“I’m ordering in.”
Cheryl’s cheeks were rounded, plump and pink and her mouth stretched wider. “Good, order me a salad, and I’ll eat here also. I have something important to tell you.”
“Important?” Ash finally lifted his eyes from the stack of papers on his desk and raised his head. His expression was stern. “After your behavior at the banquet, I’m not keen to listen to anything you have to say.”
“My…my behavior? Ash I was simply—”
“Simply? Simply drinking yourself into a bitch.”
“Ash!”
He stood and folded his arms across his chest. The bulge of shoulders and biceps beneath his Oxford shirt was a clear display of intimidation. “Listen to me, Cheryl, I like Jenna Black, and I plan on spending time with her. Keep that sharp tongue of yours in your mouth when she’s with me.”
A predictable jangle rang from her wrists, as Cheryl patted at her helmet of bleached hair. “But she’s who I want to talk to you about. I know you like her, but I think she’s already involved with someone.”
Ash raised a brow. “Who?”
“This is going to sound crazy but I saw her with Eric Laine.”
“The actor?”
Ash tipped his head toward the fiberglass tiled ceiling and spat a robust but clipped laugh. The blush on Cheryl’s cheeks deepened to scarlet. “Stop it. I’m serious. I saw them together in front of her store. Then he dragged her inside and locked the door. It was all very strange. They looked…intimate.”
As he continued to laugh, the swell of his pectoral muscles also strained against his shirt. “Last month you swore a broken-down Creamy Cone truck was really a car bomb. You called the state police and all they found inside of it was melted ice cream.” Shaking his head and still chuckling, Ash ambled into the outer office. He passed his receptionist diligently clicking away at a keyboard. “Have you heard? Cromline is the new Hollywood.” Still sniggering, he called over his shoulder, “Cheryl, my brother better see to it you lay off the sauce. Eric Laine, here in Cromline, of all things.”
“It was him,” she insisted. “And they looked very cozy.”
****
On hands and knees, Jenna picked up bottles of lime green nail polish. She was lucky they hadn’t broken into a million shards of enamel-covered glass. It was barely noon, and the display was the third thing she’d knocked over or dropped. Her nerves were getting the better of her. Or was it guilt? Maybe it was both. She placed the nail polish in a box and shoved it behind the counter to arrange later. A small picture of Janie was taped to the register. Even in the wallet-sized photo, her daughter’s eyes were bright, lambent blue. Eric’s eyes.
Jenna had suspected the truth of her daughter’s paternity, but it wasn’t until she’d rushed to a local hospital after hearing about his accident that she knew for certain. While crying at his bedside she’d discovered he and Janie shared the same uncommon blood type.
Jenna picked at more items but only ended up making an incompatible display of merchandise. She sighed. She’d factualized a hundred reasons for not telling Eric Janie was his. For four long years, Jenna sliced away till those reasons were pared down to a single pretext disguised as the truth. She couldn’t bear the thought of being away from Janie—not for a summer, a holiday, a weekend, or even a day. It had been just the two of them for too long.
But Jenna knew her decision hadn’t been fair. Janie had a right to know she had a father. The child was at an age where vague dismissals on the subject ofdaddyno longer held up.
A pain settled behind Jenna’s eyes. It was blinding. Whatwouldhappen if she told Eric? He had the money and influence that came with being famous. What would he do when he found out Janie was his? And what would Jenna do if he wanted to share custody? The thought had her backing absently into another display, a tall rack that swayed and almost came crashing down.
“Watch out!” Anne, for all of her bulk, came running from the doorway in time to warn Jenna that a stand of merchandise was about to topple on her. Steadying it, she answered with a shiver and shake of the head.
“You look colder than a block of ice. Here.” Anne handed her a disposable cup. “I came by to say hello. I brought you a latte.”
“Thanks.” Anne’s studious regard made Jenna’s anxiety ramp up a notch. “Is something wrong?”
