The Truth About Tara Page 10

  “Yes!” Susie shouted.

  It would probably ruin all their dinners, but something about ice cream was comforting. Besides, Carrie needed to fill Gustavo in about what was going on with his daughter.

  She stood up and extended a hand to Susie. “C’mon, let’s wash those tears away. I want to see your smile.”

  Susie bared her teeth in an artificial smile that could have scared a small child.

  “Not a fake smile,” Carrie said. “A real one.”

  Susie laughed. Carrie was so relieved to hear the sound that she hugged the child and joined in.

  * * *

  TARA DUG INTO THE VAT OF black raspberry ice cream with her silver scooper and piled the cold treat high on a cake cone. She reached over the counter to hand it to the young girl who’d come into the shop with Tara’s mother, Gus Miller, Danny—and Jack DiMarco.

  “Here you go, Susie,” Tara said.

  The girl took the cone, practically jumping up and down with excitement.

  Gus stood off to his daughter’s side, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression tender. “What do you say, Susie?”

  “I say I like ice cream!” Susie answered.

  “You’re supposed to say thank you,” Danny told her in a loud, halting voice.

  “Thank you!” Susie shouted.

  “Shh,” Gus said. “Remember your indoor voice, Susie.”

  As little as an hour ago, the children could have practiced their manners in front of plenty of customers. The closer it got to dinnertime, however, the emptier the ice cream shop became.

  Tara had been expecting some downtime when the contingent from the camp set off the jingling bells above the door. She wasn’t sure which one of their group came as a bigger surprise—her grieving mother or Jack DiMarco.

  She knew which customer should be less welcome.

  Jack might be the baseball player he said he was, but he was also the brother of the P.I. investigating the Hayley Cooper case. Every minute he spent alone with her mother was pregnant with risk.

  She needed to avoid him, too. Even if she didn’t

  really want to.

  “Put your money away,” Jack told Gus, who was reaching for his wallet. “My treat.”

  “You sure?” Gus asked.

  “Positive.” Jack stepped up to the counter, rubbing his hands together. The hint of a beard shadowed his lower face, adding an air of ruggedness, making him look even more handsome.

  “Everything smells delicious.” He drew in a deep breath of the sugar-scented air. “What do you recommend?”

  “People drive for miles for the homemade ice cream, but I’m partial to the chocolate butterscotch fudge,” she said.

  “Then that’s what I’ll have,” he said.

  Behind him, Gus and her mother were sharing a table with Danny and Susie. Gus said something and everybody at the table laughed, including her mother.

  It was the anniversary, and her mother was laughing.

  Tara took a small plastic plate and slid open the glass door of the display case, cutting off a generous piece of fudge from the wedge. She handed the candy to Jack and rang up the sale.

  “So,” she said, drawing out the syllable, “what are you doing here?”

  He extended some bills to her. “I’m about to eat some fudge.”

  She took his money, putting the bills into a slot and taking out some change. “You know what I mean.”

  “Danny and Susie asked me to come,” he said.

  She dumped the change into his hand, careful not to touch him. She already knew she’d get a jolt of awareness if she did.

  “The kids said they wanted to spend some time with me because I can’t be at camp tomorrow,” he said. “I’ve got to meet with Art Goodnight.”

  “You know Art?”

  “I told you I had a reason for being at the fitness club Sunday night.” He had a way of looking at her that made her feel like the only person in the room. “You really should start believing me.”

  She wet her suddenly dry lips. “I believe you’re a baseball player.”

  “Only because you checked me out,” he said. “My sister phoned last night to say you called the sportsplex.”

  Tara’s heart thudded so hard she thought he might hear it. “Your sister, the P.I.”

  “Nope, the other one. Annalise is married to Kyle. She stays home with their kids and helps him out with the business.” His shoulders moved up and down. “Annalise and Maria, they take turns calling me. I think they coordinate who has which days.”

  “They call you that much?”

  “One of them calls every single day,” he said. “My mom calls, too, though not quite so often. Why do you think I’m staying on the Eastern Shore?”

  She’d thought it was because of her, but then her imagination had been running rampant since he’d arrived in town. She was more than halfway to believing the wild conclusion she’d jumped to. If only she knew more about what had led Jack to her. For the first time, she entertained the disturbing possibility that somebody in town suspected she was Hayley Cooper.

  “I thought you were tracking down more leads for your sister,” Tara said, steering the conversation in the direction she needed it to go.

  “Nope,” he said. “She only asked me to track down the one.”

  “Tell me something,” she asked with as much nonchalance as she could muster. Her hands felt as if they were shaking, so she grasped one with the other. “What led you to me, anyway?”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure. If you like, I’ll ask my sister.”

  “No, no,” Tara said quickly. That could be disastrous. “It doesn’t matter. I was just curious.”

  “It’d be no problem,” he said. “She really does call me all the time.”

  Tara had to clench her jaw so she wouldn’t snap at him to forget it. She couldn’t afford to protest too much. “Whatever. Like I said, it’s not a big deal.”

  The door burst open, setting off the bells. Mary Dee hurried through, her shirt coming untucked from her shorts and her normally smooth hair looking windblown. She came around the counter.

  “Tara, you are a godsend for filling in for me. I had the most awful toothache. The dentist saw me right away, but it turned out I needed a root canal. Then—” She stopped abruptly, turning to Jack with laserlike focus. “I’ll be damned. You’re the guy who was with Tara last week.”

  Oh, great, Tara thought, remembering the words Mary Dee had used to describe him. Hot. Sexy. A man who could take care of a woman’s needs. What’s worse, deep down Tara agreed with those descriptions. She masked her feelings and resigned herself to making the introductions.

  “Mary Dee, this is Jack DiMarco. He’s renting a place out on Shell Beach,” Tara said. “Jack, Mary Dee Larson. She and I work together at Wawpaney Elementary.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jack.” Mary Dee twirled a lock of her black hair around her finger. “What a coincidence that you should run into Tara here.”

  “Not a coincidence.” He gestured behind him to the table where Tara’s mother and Danny sat with the Millers. “I came with Gus, Carrie and the kids. I’m volunteering at the camp.”

  “Really?” Mary Dee pinned Tara with a look. Tara could practically hear the questions running through her friend’s brain. But then her gaze swung to the table. “Carrie’s eating ice cream and smiling on the anniversary? That’s great!”

  “What anniversary?” Jack asked.

  “Tara hasn’t told you?” Mary Dee asked. “It’s a really

  sad story.”

  “We’re trying not to dwell on it,” Tara interjected before Mary Dee could continue. “I’d appreciate it, Jack, if you didn’t bring up the subject with my mother.”

  He seemed about to say something, then closed his mouth and nodded. “Sure thing.”

  “Anything else I can get for you?” Tara asked.

  He held up the fudge. “Nope. This’ll do it.”

  “Jack!” Danny yelled from a
cross the store. “Mr. Miller wants to see your thumb disappear.”

  “Coming,” Jack called. To Mary Dee, he said, “It was very nice meeting you.” His eyes touched on Tara and held. That damned attraction skittered through her again. “Tara, it’s always a pleasure.”

  He turned and walked to the table. Mary Dee fanned herself with a hand and pretended to swoon. “Now, if that’s not a man who could set off fireworks inside you, I don’t know who is,” she whispered. “We’ve got to get you some of that.”

  “No,” Tara said, trying to sound as if she wasn’t tempted. “We don’t.”

  “Oh, come on. He’d be up for it.” She wiggled her brows suggestively. Another time, Tara would have laughed.

  “I can tell he likes you.”

  Jack stood at the table, smiling and showing no sign of irritation even though this must have been the fifth or sixth time Danny had asked him to perform the trick. He glanced her way, caught her watching him and smiled.

  Tara quickly broke eye contact before she smiled back at him. She needed to keep contact with Jack at an absolute minimum, both for her mother and herself.

  The less he knew about their lives, the better. She didn’t need Jack—or, worse, the P.I. sister who kept in constant telephone contact with him—speculating about how losing a husband and daughter had affected her mother.

  One of them might even entertain the notion that Carrie Greer had replaced the little girl she’d lost with another one.

  * * *

  DANNY SANK TO HIS KNEES on the screened-in porch of the Bay Breeze B and B that Gustavo had inherited from his grandmother, not the slightest bit interested in the stunning Chesapeake Bay view.

  Carrie had to admit the objects of Danny’s attention were pretty captivating, too.

  Three seven-week-old kittens, each one more adorable than the last, played near their mother. The kittens batted at each other with their front paws and meowed.

  “They are so c-cute!” Danny shouted.

  “Shh,” Susie scolded. “You’ll scare them.”

  “I will not!” he protested.

  At the ice cream store Susie had mentioned that her great-grandmother’s cat recently gave birth to kittens. Danny, of course, had begged to go see them right away.

  If these had been routine circumstances, Carrie would have found a way to gently dissuade him. The B and B was a good twenty miles from Wawpaney, not exactly the kind of place to pop in and out. But Carrie was still looking for a chance to tell Gustavo about her conversation with Susie on the swings.

  “Can I pick one up?” Danny asked.

  “Only. If. You’re. Really. Careful,” Susie said, enunciating each word clearly.

  “I’ll be c-careful,” Danny promised.

  He used excessive care in lifting the smallest kitten onto his lap. Very gently he stroked the kitten’s back. It purred. He giggled. Carrie and Gustavo exchanged a smile. Clearly the children would be okay on the screened porch by themselves for a little while.

  “Can we go inside?” she asked Gustavo.

  “Certainly.” He let her precede him through the open French doors. “I don’t suppose you’re in the market for a cat? They’re just about old enough to leave their mother.”

  “It sure looks to me like Susie wants to keep every last one of them,” Carrie said.

  “She does, but I’ve already told her she can only have one,” Gustavo said. “I got the mama fixed, too, so we won’t have more litters.”

  Carrie glanced over her shoulder at Danny, who now had two kittens on his lap. “Let me think about it. I just might take one of the kittens off your hands.”

  “Don’t think too much, Carrie,” he said, rolling the r’s in her name in that way she loved. “People who think about acting usually talk themselves out of it. Remember, do what feels right.”

  She focused her attention on him. He wore khaki shorts and a cream polo shirt that was flattering with his dark coloring. This close, he smelled great. “It feels right being here with you.”

  Even to her own ears, she sounded flirtatious. What was the matter with her? At age fifty-four, she should be more in control of herself. Every time she opened her mouth around Gustavo, something came out that he could construe as having a double meaning.

  “It’s a darn shame you closed the house to guests. It’s lovely,” she said, to cover her gaffe. She swept a hand to encompass the first floor. A spacious kitchen opened into a den with a brick fireplace, where a paisley-print sofa and love seat were angled for an optimum view of the console television. The opposite side of the room contained a blond wooden table with eight faded upholstered chairs.

  “Lovely, but worn around the edges.” He indicated the faded wooden floors. “These need to be refinished, the counters in the kitchen should be replaced and all the furniture should be trashed.”

  “That’s all cosmetic.” Carrie did a three-sixty, enjoying the late-afternoon light that flooded the house. A view of the Chesapeake was visible through the screen porch. “This old place has good bones.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “But before it can become operational again it needs a good home remodeler and an interior decorator.”

  “Or an amateur who knows what looks good. The floor should be finished in a warm honey color and the furniture should be moved around to take advantage of that splended view.” She walked to an empty spot. “I’d put a brown leather recliner right here. And those faded floral curtains need to go. The only thing behind the house is the bay, so you don’t have to worry about people peering in at you.”

  “If I was keeping this place, I’d take you upstairs to the bedrooms,” he said.

  She felt her cheeks stain, although she was sure he was referring to touring the bedrooms. Now she was attributing sexual innuendo to the things he said. She needed to make sure there were no misunderstandings.

  “If you change your mind, just let me know and I’ll decorate for free.” Carrie emphasized the operative word.

  “I’m not changing my mind,” he said. “I like teaching too much.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” she said. “How did you become a special ed teacher?”

  “I was already a teacher. But after Susie was born, I went to night school to get certified.”

  “That must be a great advantage in dealing with Susie,” she said.

  “The main reason I went into special ed was that I wanted to understand her better.”

  “Did it work?” she asked.

  “Not entirely,” he said slowly. “If I understood her better, I have a feeling we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “You figured out I wanted to talk to you about Susie,” she said.

  “It wasn’t difficult,” he said. “You wouldn’t have suggested ice cream before dinner if you weren’t trying to cheer her up.”

  Carrie’s gaze fell on a photo hanging from the wall in the entranceway of the house. Susie appeared to be about a year old. She was sitting on the lap of a smiling woman with delicate features and strawberry-blond hair. Gustavo stood beside them, his arm resting on the woman’s shoulder, his expression tender as he gazed down at Susie.

  “Is that your ex-wife?” Carrie asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, his expression unreadable. “That was taken the year before we divorced. It’s already been almost nine years. She still lives in Baltimore.”

  “Susie was crying when you asked me to check up on her,” Carrie said softly. “I told her I cried sometimes, too. She asked if that was because my mama didn’t love me, either.”

  Gustavo swore under his breath. He raked a hand through his dark hair. “Sorry about the language. The whole thing just makes me so angry.” He drew in a deep breath and expelled it. “Did Susie say anything else?”

  “Something that made no sense,” Carrie said. “About her mama being with a man in a hat.”

  Gustavo’s eyebrows furrowed, then smoothed out. He groaned. “Susie must have overheard me talking to her mo
ther on the phone. Victoria was supposed to come down from Baltimore and visit her this weekend. Instead she’s going to Manhattan with some guy.”

  “Oh, no.” Carrie laid a hand on his arm, hating to see the pain the situation caused him. “No wonder Susie was upset.”

  “I could kick myself for letting Susie overhear,” Gustavo said. “The thing is, I think Victoria does love her. She just can’t deal with Susie not being perfect.”

  “She’s missing out on a wonderful girl,” Carrie said.

  He gave her a wry smile. “Spoken like the mother of a child with Down syndrome.”

  “Oh, I’m not Danny’s mama. He’s my foster child. From what little I know of Danny’s real mama, she’s sort of like Victoria. Only way worse.” Carrie paused. “She told the agency she couldn’t handle a retard.”

  Gustavo’s eyes opened wide. “She used that word?”

  “That’s what they told me,” Carrie said. “She’s struggling with her husband not in the picture but she still has custody of Danny’s brother.”

  “Let me guess.” Gustavo’s lips twisted. “He’s not mentally challenged.”

  “Right you are.”

  “Have you been a foster mother to other children with special needs?”

  “Danny’s the first,” Carrie said. “Not a lot of foster parents ask to take in special-needs children, so they recruited some of us veterans.”

  He gave a low whistle. “Carrie Greer, you are my kind of woman.”

  She felt herself blush at the same time she noticed she was still touching him.

  “Don’t make me out to be some kind of saint,” she insisted. “I need Danny every bit as much as he needs me.”

  Gustavo tilted his head. “Why’s that?”

  She hadn’t become a foster mother until Tara left home for college. She’d figured out long ago that children who needed her, the way Tara once had, helped fill the hole in her heart. Not completely, but enough so she could function.

  The pain of losing both Sunny and Scott at the same time had been so wrenching it never fully went away.

  With a start, she realized this was the first time she’d thought of her lost loved ones since Gustavo had asked her to check on his daughter.