His Hometown Redemption
Autore
LeAnne Bristow
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Capitoli
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CHAPTER ONE
THE RINGING OF the telephone caused Stacy Tedford to quicken her pace. She made her way through the aisles balancing a cardboard box, a stack of notebooks and a metal cashbox. She stepped over a broken floor tile and around the candy bar display to reach the front counter.
She dropped the pile, sending notebooks sliding across the counter and onto the ground, and reached for the phone. “Hello?”
Silence.
Oh, well. If it were very important, they’d call back. She replaced the receiver on the old rotary dial phone and reached under the counter to turn on a small radio before moving around to pick up the mess.
Then she opened the cashbox to fill the register drawer for the day’s sales. She marked the total in the logbook and flipped through the entries. This week had been slower than usual. Of course, the chaos of Memorial Day weekend had been a boost, but she was still behind her projected goal for this month.
An upbeat song started, and Stacy danced to the music, pausing only long enough to push the brew buttons on the coffee machines. While the smell of fresh-roasted coffee wafted through the air, she checked the ice cream machine in the deli section of the market. Except for the hum of the refrigerator units and the faint radio, silence settled around her. This was her favorite time of day. In an hour, the quiet would be disturbed by fishermen and families eager to get an early start on one of the nearby lakes.
She grabbed a cup of coffee and settled on a stool behind the counter. She flipped open one of the notebooks and ran her finger along the list of ideas she’d jotted down to increase revenue. Check marks were next to some of them. Updating the websites for the market and the campground had been easy. Her eye for design had earned her good grades in marketing classes during her short stint at the University of Arizona.
Her mother had been livid when Stacy’d quit college to come home and run the market, but what choice had she had? Her mom’s Huntington’s disease had progressed to the point that she could no longer live on her own. And now that her mother had checked herself into a nursing home, expenses had more than doubled.
If she didn’t come up with twelve hundred dollars by the end of the summer tourist season, the nursing home would send her mother to a county facility. Much cheaper, but the quality of care was worse. And it was almost three hours away.
Her chest constricted. She couldn’t let her mother be sent that far away. Coronado was their home, where Melissa Tedford had been born and where she wanted to die. Stacy would do everything in her power to honor her mother’s wishes.
She glanced at her list again. One word was written bigger and underlined. Bus. She glanced at the calendar on the wall. Today’s date was circled with bright red ink and her heart skipped a beat. Starting today, the empty lot next to her market would be the newest commercial bus stop. Passengers would be able to get out, stretch their legs, use the restroom and relax. Most importantly, they might spend money. Breakfast burritos at the deli, snacks for the road, drinks.
A tingle shot through her. She couldn’t wait to see if her persistence paid off. Would it be enough?
A loud thumping vibrated through the door. “Stacy? Stacy?”
Stacy ran around the counter and unlocked the front door. She stepped back to allow a set of elderly twins to enter. One woman sported bright pink hair, the other blue. “Good morning, Margaret. Edith.”
The Reed sisters rushed past her with the energy of a whirlwind, despite being in their seventies. Edith stopped long enough to squeeze her arm. “You’re late opening the store. That’s not like you. Everything okay?”
Stacy looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s only five after six.”
Edith arched one painted eyebrow. “Better five minutes early than five minutes late.”
“I told you not to say anything to the poor girl,” her pink-haired sister scolded her. She gave Stacy a kind look. “Excuse her. You have a lot going on right now. Has Missy taken a turn?”
Stacy ignored the way her throat tightened and gave the woman a bright smile. “No. Actually, Mama had a good day yesterday.”
The older woman pressed her lips together for a moment. “You weren’t at church, so naturally I assumed something was wrong.”
Stacy ignored the comment and sat on the stool behind the counter. The women shuffled their way toward the coffeepots. Neither stopped talking long enough to hear what the other was saying.
Margaret approached the counter with her cup of coffee. “Are you still managing the campground for Frank? I heard the groundskeeper quit.”
Stacy wasn’t surprised that the ladies already knew about Luke. “Yes. He ran off to Nashville to become a country music star. Do you know anyone who needs a job?”
Edith let out a very unladylike snort. “I can sing better than that boy. Don’t you let Frank saddle you with that job, too. It’s enough he stuck you with the campground.”
She shook her head. “I volunteered.” Managing the campground for her uncle was easy. Customers checked in and paid at the store. When they checked out, she cleaned their cabin. Her uncle paid her a portion of the profits, and now that she’d updated the website and created a social media presence, profits were rising.
Besides, when her grandfather was alive, her mom and dad had managed the market while she and her cousin, Coy, had helped Pap with the campground. She’d cleaned and decorated the cabins, Coy had handled care of the barn and horses, and Pap had taken care of all the maintenance and landscaping. It had been the perfect family business.
Then she’d left for college and Coy had decided to hit the rodeo circuit. Pap hadn’t been able to manage everything by himself and had sold almost all the horses. Her mom’s disease had become too much for her dad to handle and he’d started drinking. It was her uncle Frank who’d called her in Tucson and told her what was really going on.
Between the two of them, they’d managed to save the market and the campground from bankruptcy. Despite what the Reed sisters thought, helping with the campground was not an unwelcome chore.
“You work hard all day and spend all your free hours at the nursing home with your mother. You’re never going to find a man if you don’t make some time for yourself.” Edith placed her cup next to her sister’s on the counter.
“Oh, no. The last thing I need is a man. Just coffee this morning?” Stacy rang it up on the register.
“You’re out of the bear claws, Stacy.” Edith shook her head. “I don’t know how we can enjoy our coffee without one, but we’ll try.”
Stacy reached under the counter to produce two of the pastry treats. “I saw we were running low, so I saved some for you.”
“You are a dear.” Edith grinned. “Are you ready for the big day?”
“I think so.” Excitement bubbled in her chest. “The bus doesn’t stop until eight, so I’m going to start making burros now.”
“Excellent,” both women said in unison. “Do you want us to come by and help?”
“Oh, no. Millie will be in at nine.” Stacy could only imagine the kind of help the sisters might offer. “I appreciate it, though.”
When they left, Stacy opened a large box from behind the counter. She’d been rationing her inventory for the last month, holding back a portion of her bestsellers. Now she placed all the items back on shelves so that when the bus stopped, she would be fully stocked. Until she knew if the bus stopping at her market would be profitable, she couldn’t afford to increase her inventory too much.
As soon as that was done, she moved to the deli section and started making burritos on the hot-plate-style grill. Maybe someday the deli would be profitable enough to install a real grill, but for now, this one would have to do. She’d just wrapped the last burrito in foil and placed it under the heating lamp when she heard the rumble of the bus pulling into the dirt parking lot.
Her heart rate sped up and she pressed a hand to her stomach. This was it. Would this save her market and her mother?
THE SCREECH OF metal ripped through the air. Caden Murphy braced himself for impact. He waited for shattered glass to tear through his skin, warm liquid to seep into his clothes. Nothing. His chest tightened. Something was wrong.
Strong hands shook him and he struggled to open his eyes. “Mister. Wake up.” Dark brown eyes stared into his own, worry etched on the older man’s face. “Are you okay?”
Caden squinted at the brightness streaming through the windows. Where were the flashing lights? The wreckage trapping him?
“This is your stop.” The man frowned at him.
The bus started to move and the man stood to get the driver’s attention. “Wait. This guy is supposed to get off here.”
Another sound jolted Caden from the seat. He breathed in and out, willing his pulse to slow down.
Brakes. Just brakes. Get a grip.
The man stared at him from the aisle.
“Um...sorry.” Caden rubbed his face. Stepping carefully past the man, he reached into the overhead compartment for his duffel bag. Everything he owned fit into the small brown bag. Still, he was the lucky one. At least, that was what everyone told him.
The bus driver eyed him. “We’ve been stopped here for twenty minutes. I was just pulling out when he told me you hadn’t gotten off.”
Had he slept that hard? It was probably the most sleep he’d had at one time in years.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to put you behind schedule.”
“No problem. See you next week when I come back through.” The man grinned. “Unless you decide the mountain air suits you and decide to stay.”
Caden pressed his lips together. No chance of that. Once he completed his mission, he doubted he’d be welcome. “I’ll be ready.”
A few moments later, Caden was alone in the middle of a dirt parking lot. The thick aroma of pine filled the chilly mountain air. Good grief. It was the middle of June.
For a moment, he closed his eyes and absorbed the sounds of the wind whispering through the tall trees edging the large dirt lot. He opened his eyes. His view was no longer obstructed by metal bars, but he wasn’t free. Not yet. He had a promise to keep.
He threw the duffel over his shoulder and looked around. Coronado, Arizona. Population less than six hundred. How many times had he thought about coming here? And now that he was here, all he wanted to do was run away.
Except for the paved street, the town looked like a flashback to the Old West. Even the sidewalk was made from wood planks that echoed as he walked. A weathered wood building with Coronado Market painted on the side was the closest store.
Wooden shops lined the street in an array of bright colors. Chainsaw-cut bears and fish decorated the front of the log cabin hardware store on one side of the market. On the other side, a sign in the window of a bright pink candy shop boasted the best fudge in Arizona. Probably not as good as his grandmother’s. A stab of pain twisted in his gut. He hadn’t even been allowed to go to her funeral.
A lot of things had changed in seven years. Did phone booths still exist? Relief swelled his chest when he spotted a pay phone in front of the store.
He dug into his wallet, pulled out a business card and a calling card, punched in the numbers and held his breath.
“’Lo?” A muffled voice came across the line.
“Hi, Lieutenant Erikson. This is Caden Murphy.” The tapping of his foot echoed against the sidewalk.
“Nice to hear from you so soon, Caden. You found a place to stay?”
“I just arrived, sir. I just wanted to thank you for letting me have this week to get things settled.” Even though he’d served his entire sentence, he still had to be monitored for six months and had to get permission to leave Pima County.
“Happy to do it. You doing okay, son?”
“I’m fine.” He swallowed. They both knew it was a lie.
“You served your time. Regardless of what happens this week, you need to forgive yourself.”
Like that would ever happen. But there was no sense arguing. Erikson didn’t understand. No one did. His best friend was dead because of him. No amount of punishment would be enough. “I know that, sir.”
“I’ll see you back in my office next week.”
“Yes, sir.” Caden placed the receiver back in its cradle.
He had one week. It wasn’t long enough to fix all the pain he’d caused, but it was a start.
Smoke billowed from behind the restaurant across the street, carrying the aroma of slow-smoked barbecue with it. His stomach growled. Maybe breakfast was a good idea. He hadn’t eaten since before he’d got on the bus, at least twelve hours ago. But first he needed to find a place to stay.
A community bulletin board hung on the wall next to the phone booth. Caden scanned the papers covering it. Lost and Found. For Sale. Even a few Missing Persons posters.
One advertisement caught his eye and he let out a sigh of relief.
Whispering Pines Cabins. Daily, weekly or monthly rentals. Inquire inside the market.
Bells jingled when he swung the market door open and stepped inside. Despite the building’s worn appearance, the place was neat and tidy. Gouges marred the once beautiful wooden floor, and most of the shelves were probably older than he was. A deli hugged one side of the entrance, complete with a dining area. That was, if two tiny tables with chairs counted as a dining area. The other side of the entrance had a long counter with two cash registers. Behind the counter was another small table, a couple of chairs, and on the wall was a large wire rack of DVDs.
Overhead, the fluorescent lights flickered. He frowned.
The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted his assessment of the lighting. He turned to his right to discover a pair of green eyes searching his. Dark green. Like the color of the pine trees that dotted the countryside.
Her eyes bored into him. “It’s not much, but it’s mine.”
Caden lowered his gaze. “You have a nice place.”
And he meant it. The building was old, but the homey atmosphere created by the colorful signs and trinkets hanging on the walls reminded him of his grandparents’ house. He scanned the rest of the building. The market had everything. Bait. Groceries. Cleaning supplies. Even a little gift shop in the back corner.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, and he was sure she thought he was patronizing her. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
Walking around the deli counter, she pulled a Styrofoam cup from the dispenser and handed it to him. She shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and studied him. “You got off the bus?”
He nodded.
“It pulled out a few minutes ago. Did you need me to see if I can catch the driver?”
He shook his head.
“Most people get back on before it leaves. Not many stay here on purpose.” The apples of her cheeks puffed out slightly as a grin lit up her face. “Will you be here long?”
Caden stared at the smattering of freckles across her nose, reminding him of sunshine. Everything about her was warm and sunny. Right down to the golden highlights in her honey-colored hair. He blinked. “Um...no.”
Impossibly, her grin got wider. She ran her fingers through her long hair and pulled it into a ponytail at the back of her neck. With practiced ease, she slipped a rubber band from her wrist and wrapped it around the golden-brown locks before washing her hands in the sink.
“Hungry?” With a flick of her head, she indicated a small menu on the wall behind her.
He studied the menu. Not a big selection. Breakfast burritos or sub sandwiches.
“Sausage burro.”
“Want chili on that?”
He nodded as the lights flickered again. “Do they do that a lot?”
She shrugged. “Depends on what you mean by ‘a lot.’ Have a seat. It’ll just take a couple of minutes. The bus crowd wiped out the premade ones.”
Caden dropped his duffel bag on the floor and sat at one of the tables. He retrieved his journal and reread the tattered pages. Each task was bigger than the one before it. He traced the notes with a finger and his chest constricted. Of all of them, this one would be the hardest.
“Your food’s ready,” Sunshine called from the counter.
He closed his book and walked over to the counter. She handed a paper plate to him, and a jolt of awareness shot through him when his hand brushed hers. She winked. Heat crept up his neck. Turning away from her, he hurried to the tables and sank into the chair.
He unwrapped the stuffed tortilla and bit into it. Wow. Real eggs. Not the powdered kind they served in prison. Melting cheese dripped out of the end and he took another bite. The spicy green chilies made his eyes water. Heaven.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sunshine hummed while cleaning up the deli area. Her ponytail swung in rhythm with the music and he glanced at her left hand. Shame washed over him. He was here to serve out his parole, not flirt with the first pretty girl he found.
No matter. As soon as he completed his mission, he’d be gone.
