shaking his head. “Once upon a time, I would have been surprised.”
She rolled her eyes and grinned. “He was pissed because she got all the money out of the account before he did and that she had the car.”
“Nice,” Breck said, holding out a hand for a high five. Even Leo nodded, looking impressed.
I wondered how old she was, and, more importantly, how tied to Iowa she was. She had potential. Miranda could use her. She’d asked me to be on the lookout for a new girl.
“Afraid to go home?” Shauna asked, looking at me. “I know that feeling.”
“I am not scared to go home,” I said with as much disdain as I could muster. That was a lie. I was terrified. And that was only part of it. Several emotions vied for prominence when I thought about going home again. Guilt was the front runner, but righteous anger, embarrassment, and a tiny spark of curious possibility were also in play. There was also a not inconsequential part of my psyche itching for a fight; though, fight with whom, I couldn’t say. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is,” Danny said. “How long has it been?”
“Fifteen years,” I admitted. Fifteen years since I’d walked out the door for the last time. Flounced out was probably more like it. I had been a very dramatic child.
“Long time,” Shauna said nodding slowly.
“Yes, it is.”
She nodded sagely again and then left.
“So, seriously,” Leo said. “What changed your mind? What was in the envelope Miranda handed you that convinced you?”
“Never mind that, what’s the job?” Breck asked too loudly. “It’s been a freaking week and I still don’t know what the hell we’re doing in Wisconsin and what Carson’s family has to do with it. How are we supposed to come up with a plan?”
My hand hovered over the wallet in my jacket pocket. It wasn’t blackmail, at least not in the way they assumed. This was worse. It was emotional blackmail. It was my biggest weakness and my deepest regret all in one tiny photograph.
Maybe it was the otherworldly feel of the liminal space of the Denny’s, or the forced intimacy that came from driving in an SUV with five other grown men for days, or maybe it was the way I’d come to suspect that these men might have my back, but a part of me I thought long dead and buried wanted to tell the truth.
I wanted someone to see at least a small part of the real me, whatever that was. If there ever had been such a thing, the remnants of it lived in Wisconsin on the banks of the Mississippi River. Did Leo have any idea what it meant for me to be sharing this piece of myself with them?
He seemed to, as he smiled warmly at me. “It’s okay if you don’t want to share. We’ve all got private lives.”
“Speak for yourself,” Breck said. “I’m an open book.”
“An open comic book,” Ridge said with a grin.
“No, it’s fine. I would like to.” I pulled out my wallet and opened slowly and took out the picture I had put inside of it.
So many emotions flooded my mind as I studied the picture of two women, each with their hands on the shoulders of a little boy. Next to them, a toddler of indeterminate sex but with all the facial markers of Down syndrome cried and struggled against the straps holding him into his flimsy umbrella stroller. I remembered that day perfectly. Sammy had not been happy about being strapped in, but after we’d almost lost him to an extremely aggressive goat in the petting zoo, my mother hadn’t been taking any more chances.
The older boys had both just turned five, though the blond one was half a head taller than the brunet. His broad smile was missing two front teeth. The women, I realized with the shock one gets when one realizes that time does indeed march on, were younger then than I was now. God. By the time she’d been my age, my mother had two kids and a deadbeat ex-husband. Poor woman.
I passed the photo to Leo.
He took it, eyebrows rising to his hairline as he studied the faces. “Is that…?”
I nodded.
“Cute.” He flipped the photo to look at the back.
I knew what he’d see, a caption in the flowing script they didn’t teach in school anymore reading Bitty, Momo, Jake, Eric & Sammy. Apple Festival 1995 and a sticky note in Charlie’s blocky handwriting that said She wanted