Josie Day Is Coming Home (17 page)

“I don’t want company,” she said.

“Don’t be a baby. Come on.”

Well, that clinched it. Nobody called her names and got away
with it. Deliberately, Josie dropped the lumber, leaving it to hang crookedly
by its one hammered-in nail. It would serve Luke right if it fell off.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her Sunday-best cropped white
denim pants. She straightened the knot she’d tied at the waist of her pink
gingham shirt. She tossed back her ponytail. There. Primped, poised, and
posture-perfect, thanks to her showgirl training.

All she needed was a feathered fan and a sequined headdress,
and she’d have been able to tackle anything. In lieu of her usual accessories,
Josie slipped her feet in the rainbow wedgies she’d left by the welcome mat and
plastered on a smile.

Time to face her family.

That was easier said than done. Crossing the porch in Luke’s
wake felt more terrifying than crossing a Las Vegas stage ever had. The sounds
of conversation, of gravel crunching beneath her family’s feet, of her niece making
chattering noises with her Barbie doll, seemed weirdly surreal.

She stopped at the top of the porch steps beside Luke,
watching her family troop up to greet her. It had been years since she’d
confronted them all together…not since she’d been crowned Miss Saguaro at the
age of eighteen and had skedaddled for Las Vegas to try her luck as a dancer
shortly afterward.

“There she is!” her mother sang out gaily,
ascending the steps in front of the group with her usual self-confidence. She
glanced over her shoulder, as though making sure everyone noticed she was in
the lead. “Hello, pumpkin.”

“Mom.”

They shared an awkward hug. Her mother’s perfume—Tabu, her
longtime favorite—tickled her nose, more strongly than when they’d seen each
other in the hospital emergency room. She must have applied it freshly for the
occasion.

“I told you I’d track you down! Shame on you, for
ducking your mother all this time.”

“I’ve been busy.” Josie gestured vaguely toward
Blue Moon.

“You’re never too busy for your family. Isn’t that
right, Warren?”

Nancy Day dragged her husband forward. She looped her arm
through his, clearly intending to keep him there by force if necessary. Given
their past, it just might be necessary.

Her father stood there stiffly. At the sight of him, Josie felt
tears well up.
No, no, no
. Rapidly, she blinked them back. So what if it
had been years since she’d last seen him? It wasn’t
her
fault he’d
refused to visit her in Las Vegas. And she’d been way too busy to come back to
Donovan’s Corner.

He cleared his throat. He nodded.

Josie waited. Her stupid hands trembled. She took a step
forward, hoping to dispel some nervous energy. Her stomach tightened, then
somersaulted. The tension was killing her.

Would he apologize? Make excuses? Pretend nothing had
happened between them? She wasn’t sure if she should hug him, or maybe shake
his hand, or nod, like he had. Was that what fathers did after their daughters
grew up? Nodded?

She’d bet he didn’t nod at Jenna, the perfect daughter.

Time slowed, leaving Josie plenty of opportunities to notice
the new gray in her father’s formerly dark hair, the new laugh lines around the
corners of his eyes, the slight potbelly he’d developed. He’d aged, just in the
few years she’d been gone. Seeing him was like watching a time-lapse film—one
she’d never expected to find on the marquee.

“Josie,” he said, nodding again.

Breathlessly, Josie waited. His voice sounded gruff.
Clearly, he was having trouble expressing himself. But that was okay. Sometimes
men were like that—especially men of her father’s generation. Words didn’t come
easily to them. Thinking she’d be mature and try to make things easier, she
took a step forward to hug him.

At the same moment, Warren Day turned to Luke. He extended
his hand. Introductions were made all around. Josie was left standing there,
off-balance in more ways than one.

She lowered her arms. Had her father actually
ducked
her hug? Or had he not realized what she’d been about to do? She couldn’t tell.
She chewed her lip, feeling confused.

Maybe that had been the problem all along.
Her
choices were completely obvious, while her dad’s…her dad’s had a way of
hurting like hell.

She moved to the side while her family chattered and
laughed. They all shook hands with Luke. He ruffled Hannah’s hair and cooed
over Emily’s chubby little cheeks, looking unbelievably handsome and lovable
and charming. Everyone gradually progressed up the porch steps until they stood
in the shade of Blue Moon’s newly repaired porch roof.

“Nice place,” David said. They all moved inside.

Nobody noticed Josie wasn’t with them. Alone on the porch,
she listened as the hubbub faded. Footsteps clattered away from her. A weird
mixture of relief and disappointment roiled around her insides. She clenched
the porch railing and turned away, letting her gaze fall on her convertible.

Just a few hours’ drive and she could be gone….

New footsteps sounded, coming closer. They dragged
her—unwillingly—away from her fantasy of hitting the open road.

“I told them you’re putting away the hammer,” Luke
said.

He met her gaze seriously, silent understanding in his
expression. Josie didn’t know how Luke could possibly understand what she was
going through. Her own family had waltzed right past her without noticing she
hadn’t come with them.

She tossed her head. “They’ll never believe it. You
should have chosen an alibi that
didn’t
involve me being
responsible.”

He looked puzzled.

“Did you notice?” she asked, nodding toward the
driveway. “They all parked behind my car. They fenced me in.”

He didn’t even glance at her convertible. “Come
inside.” Luke touched her arm, making her realize how tightly she’d been
gripping the porch railing. “I’ll be your buddy.”

For a minute, she was flummoxed. Then, “Like in third
grade? ‘Everybody find a buddy’?”

“Right.” He held out his hand. “Grab my hand,
buddy.”

“Hmmm. I’d have pegged you as the kid shooting
spitballs from the school roof while everybody else obediently filed off for
the field trip. You know, the loner type.”

“No psychoanalyzing your buddy. And quit screwing
around. Tiffany Koenig would’ve given up her whole Rainbow Brite collection to
be in your shoes right now.”

“Her whole collection? In that case….”

Nervously, Josie put her hand in Luke’s. His fingers
intertwined with hers, leaving her feeling safe and protected and
almost
willing to face the firing squad inside.

“See? That wasn’t so tough,” he said. “Come
on.”

Grudgingly, she took a step forward. But even as she did,
even as she enjoyed the simple togetherness of her hand in Luke’s, Josie knew
he was wrong.

It
was
going to be tough and she
would
be
alone. When it came right down to it, she always was. It looked as though she
always would be. Accepting that was the only way to keep going.

At least it had worked so far.

“Hey, Luke. Knock, knock.”

By now, he’d learned the routine. “Who’s there?”

“Freddie.”

“Freddie who?”

“Freddie or not, here I come.”

When Josie entered the shadowy house, she found everyone
clustered in the kitchen around the butler’s table—her mother and Jenna sitting
side by side, David holding Emily in another chair, Hannah plopped on the
floor, and her father standing nearby pretending to be engrossed in the latest
wardrobe change for his granddaughter’s Barbie.

TJ had arrived from somewhere—probably another of his
experiments to see if he really could make Pop-Tarts burst into flames in the
toaster he’d plugged outside. He’d propped one hip on the table edge, amiably
chatting with everyone.

Luke leaned against the nearest counter. Josie moved with
him, sticking by her safety zone. As though sensing her unease, he rubbed his
thumb over the heel of her palm. The gesture felt reassuring. And ticklish.

Jenna glanced up. Her gaze skittered to Josie and Luke’s
linked hands. Her usual cheerleader-style smile faded a little.

“Nice place, Josie,” she said. Her attention
darted to Josie and Luke’s hands again. “Your friend TJ was just telling
us how the owner of Enchanté actually
gave
it to you?”

Josie nodded.

“
Gave
it to you? But I thought Luke was
the—” Her mother broke off, glancing at him with a slight frown. After
another few seconds, she shrugged, then scoped the room as though mentally
auctioning off the fixtures and moldings. “Why in the world would he give
you something so valuable?”

“
He
is a
she
, Mom. Tallulah Carlyle. It’s
kind of a long story, but—”

“Maybe Josie’s the best stripper in the joint,”
her father said. “And this place is one gigantic tip.”

“Warren!”

Jenna and David gaped. Even Hannah, apparently sensing the
instant tension in the room, looked up from her Barbie.

“If I
was
a stripper,” Josie informed her
father, “you can bet your ass I’d be the best.”

“Don’t say ‘ass,’ dear.”

She rounded on her mother. “It’s okay for Dad to call
me a stripper, but I can’t say ‘ass’?”

The tension notched higher.

“There
are
children in the room,” Jenna
pointed out, leaning over to clap both hands over Emily’s ears. “You might
consider that.”

David frowned his best offended-plumber’s frown. “I
knew this would happen. Something always does when Josie is—” He cleared
his throat. “Why don’t I take Emily and Hannah for a walk outside?”

He stood with the toddler in his arms, then held out a hand
for Hannah to grab. They hot-footed it out of the kitchen.

“This has got to be some kind of record,” Josie
said, shaking her head. She let go of Luke’s hand and strode across the floor,
deftly avoiding the cracked slate they still hadn’t replaced. “Two
minutes, and already you’re ganging up on me.”

“We’re not ganging up on you.”

“Don’t be so sensitive.”

“It’s not as though ‘stripper’ is an insult.”

Of course it was. “The way Dad says it, it is!”

Her father stood. “I’ll get the donuts.”

“What?” Josie stared at his departing back.

“We just came from church,” Jenna explained as
their father made his way to the foyer. “We noticed you weren’t there, so
we decided to bring the coffee and donuts to you.”

Another wave of disapproval washed over Josie. She felt it
as keenly as she did the tension in her shoulders.

“Strippers don’t go to church,” she shot back.

Silence. Then her mother looked up. “
You
used
to.”

With a pang, Josie remembered. She remembered getting
dressed up in a Sunday’s best outfit that didn’t involve a belly baring gingham
shirt and sexy white denim. She remembered sitting beside her family in a pew,
singing hymns—and happily swaying to the organ music, even then. She remembered
filing down to the church basement after mass to share coffee and donuts with
the other parishioners.

She remembered feeling as though she’d belonged.

“I was six years old. I didn’t know any better,”
she lied.

Her mother and Jenna exchanged a look. Ignoring it, Josie
crossed her arms and went on pacing. If she just kept moving, maybe things
would feel okay.

TJ glanced up with his usual obliviousness. “Hey, no
problem. There’s always next Sunday, right?”

Oh, no. Josie shot him a
shut up
look, but the damage
had already been done.

“Yes!” Jenna cried, her face shining. “You
can come with us next Sunday, Josie. Seriously, the kids would love it. They
hardly get to see you.”

“It would make your father very happy. He’s getting on
in years, you know.”

“Mom. You’re both the same age.”

“Still.” Her mother waved off the notion,
obviously seeing her technically advancing years as immaterial when compared
with her husband’s. “He won’t be around much longer, you know. Would it
kill you to sing one harmless hymn with him next Sunday?”

It just might. Josie looked to Luke to save her.

Blithely, he examined his fingernails. “You’d probably
find lots of potential dance school students at church. Good networking.”

Wham
. No help from that corner. She frowned at him.

At the table, her mother and Jenna gasped. They both turned
to Josie wearing excited expressions.

“Dance school? You’re
finally
going to open your
dance school? Here?”

“Oh, pumpkin! That’s wonderful!”

See what you’ve done?
she mouthed to Luke, but it was
too late. Her mother and sister were already off and running, chattering about
lessons, students, and—she could
not
be hearing this correctly—family
discounts.

Josie kept pacing. Why had she ever confided her dreams in
them? During their last shopping-and-shows visit to Vegas, she and her mother
and Jenna and Parker had all had one too many margaritas at her favorite
Mexican food place. Josie had found herself describing, with tequila-fueled
earnestness, her ambitions to open a dance school of her very own.

It’s what I’ve always wanted,
she remembered herself
saying. Solemnly. Wistfully.

Stupidly.

“There’s no way you can do this alone,” Jenna
announced firmly. “We’ll help you.”

“No! I don’t—”

“Absolutely,” her mother agreed. “No
arguments.”

And that was how, in the midst of running away from a family
mandated church appearance, Josie found herself with a “date” for
next Sunday—and two unlikely allies in her quest to take over Donovan’s Corner.