Stealing Taffy (Bigler, North Carolina #3) - Susan Donovan Page 0,26

call ahead and let her know you’ll be stopping by. It might be worth a shot.”

Tanyalee suddenly felt a big ole ton of weight lifting from her heart and spirit. Candy was being so kind. It almost felt like they were friends, which she knew couldn’t be possible—could it?

“I appreciate you hiring me, Candy, I truly do. And offering to help me get in my volunteer hours. But I have to ask—why? I know you’re Cheri’s best friend and I know she’s told you everything I did to her. I’m sorry for every one of those stupid, selfish things, but I know you can’t think well of me. So why go out of your way to be so nice?”

Candy frowned and studied Tanyalee for a moment, then shrugged. “Look, none of us are perfect. I’ve made plenty of mistakes and have had to ask for another chance. I think we all deserve that. There’s only one thing I’ll ask you to do.”

“Anything.”

“You need to sit down and talk with your sister. She’s the one who needs to hear that you’re sorry for everything that happened in the past, not me.”

Tanyalee nodded. “You’re right, of course, and I plan to call her right away.”

Candy frowned. “But Cheri and J.J. won’t be back from their honeymoon for another week. Viv told you, right?”

“Oh, shoot. That’s right.” Tanyalee gave Candy another quick hug. “See you tomorrow, and thank you!”

As she made her way to Aunt Viv’s Cadillac, Tanyalee had to laugh. Technically, no one had told her about the honeymoon, which wasn’t particularly shocking, since the Newberry family’s communication style was made up mostly of rumor, denial, and eavesdropping.

The truth was, Tanyalee couldn’t remember the last time a Newberry was direct about anything.

Chapter 6

Dante served himself a Styrofoam cup of bad coffee and cut it with a teaspoon of powdered carcinogenic creamer. He went to his usual spot on the room’s extreme left side toward the back. This allowed him to discreetly keep an eye on the door while staying somewhat hidden. He didn’t expect trouble, but DEA habits were hard to break.

He sat down in the rickety folding chair and tried to get comfortable, as the room began to fill with people of every description, from bag ladies to business executives and PTA moms. Alcohol abuse didn’t pick favorites, and open meetings like this one were for anyone wanting to get or keep sober. Even people working other 12-step recovery programs came for support when their own meeting wasn’t offered. He’d been to AA meetings all over the globe, and they’d all looked a lot like this one in Asheville, North Carolina, in the basement of the First Baptist Church. Dante nodded to a few regulars he’d chatted with before he left for Quantico, then pulled out his smartphone to check e-mails. When the meeting began, he turned his phone off, sipped his coffee, and listened.

There was something comforting about the order of AA meetings, and since he was no longer much of a churchgoer, this was as close to religious ritual as he got. Every gathering began with a reading aloud of the 12 steps and the 12 traditions, and then the predetermined topic of discussion was introduced. Dante stared into his coffee as a steady stream of stories began, and no matter who was doing the talking, there was always a common thread: the decline into madness, hitting rock bottom, finding AA, and working a recovery program. His breath slowed and his shoulders began to relax as one person after another shared for their allotted time. He loved the rhythm of it.

He knew that with just a few word substitutions, any one of those stories could have been his. About five years ago, Dante had let the stress and isolation of his job get to him, and he used booze to wind down. Then he got shot in the back during a bust, and started drinking in earnest while on medical leave. When he was cleared for duty he was sure he could handle it, and promised his sister, mother, and father that his drinking was nothing to be alarmed about. Then his strong and healthy father fell terminally ill, and he made Dante swear on the family name that he’d stop drinking before he reached rock bottom. With AA’s help, he did.

But no one in the room would ever hear the details of his story. Even if Dante was the type to spill his guts he still couldn’t discuss