Part 38 (1/2)

”I suppose we could start our homework later,” I gasped.

The doorbell rang.

I froze.

”d.a.m.n! Who can that be?”

Townsend didn't say that. I did.

Rick sat up, and I readjusted my clothing on the way to the front door. I opened it.

”Dad?”

”Hi, honey. You busy? I saw Rick's truck out front. I don't want to interrupt you two if you're in the middle of something.”

I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room, thinking he would make a pretty good talisman to have handy to ward off what must be forever cla.s.sified as Townsend's irresistible charms.

”Don't be silly, Pop,” I said. ”Come on in. We were just...visiting.”

Rick got to his feet. ”Evening, Philip. How are things at the phone company?”

”Pretty much the same as always. Except the customer complaints we get now are about Internet service being down, not their phones.” He shook his head. ”Progress.”

”Can I get you anything, Dad? Coffee? Soda? A bottle of water?”

He shook his head. ”Oh, no. I was just wondering if your mother was here.”

”Mom?” I frowned. ”No. She isn't here. Last I knew she planned to help Aunt Reggie man the Mini-Freeze tonight so Frankie, Dixie, and Taylor could have the night off. Why?”

He gave a half shrug.

”I just thought you might've spoken to her this evening.”

I frowned.

”You mean she's not home yet?”

My dad shook his head.

”Gram mentioned something about Mom staying here the last couple of nights,” I said, chewing my lip. Talking to your parents about their...issues was a.s.s-awkward.

”She did stay here a night or two. Said she needed to clean.”

Nice. My mother had stooped to using my untidiness as a front for her to carry on her...her...midwife crisis.

”I'm sure she's fine. She probably just got to talking with Aunt Reggie and time got away from her.”

”I've spoken to Regina. Your mother left two hours ago.”

I looked at my watch. It was close to midnight-way past my mom's bedtime, especially on a weeknight.

”Have you tried her cell?”

”It goes to voice mail.”

I patted his hand. ”She probably just lost track of time.”

”Your mom lose track of time? That isn't like her, Tressa.”

No. It wasn't. But that was the other Jean Turner. The one who didn't eat junk food and didn't run around in their p.j.s and didn't take off with an entire bottle of wine.

This new Jean Turner? She was a whole new critter.

I wanted to ask him about Mom's sudden dissatisfaction, the problems, their marriage-but, seeing him standing there, stubble on his chin, shoulders slightly slumped inward, a perplexed, troubled look in his eye, I couldn't find the words.

”It'll be all right, Dad. She'll be all right. Sometimes we just need time alone to 'be.' And you have to admit, it's been a long time since Mom's had the chance to go off by herself and recharge the batteries.”

”You think that's what she's doing, Tressa? Recharging batteries?”

”That's my guess,” I said, and put my arms around him and laid my head on his shoulder. ”You know. It's not just the guys who get to have a midlife crisis. It'll pa.s.s.”

He smiled and patted my back. ”My eternal optimist,” he said. ”You'll never keep this girl down, Rick.”

”Don't I know it?” Rick said.

I felt myself blush.

Lights outside the front window caught my attention.

”Somebody's out front!”

”Maybe it's your mom.” My dad hurried to open the door. ”Oh. G.o.d. No. It's the sheriff.”

My breathing stopped. I felt lightheaded. I swayed. Townsend grabbed hold of me before I toppled over.

”No. It's not Mom,” I said. ”It's not Mom.” If I said it enough times, it would be true.

Frenzied b.a.l.l.s of light from the patrol car danced in the darkness, lighting up the driveway and front yard. One of the deputies who'd served Jax at the talent show came up to the door. Manny DeMarco, tall, dark, and definitely not on a social call, stood next to him.

”Evening folks,” the deputy said. ”Sorry to bother you, but we're looking for a missing person.”

I blinked. ”You're looking for my mother?”

I know. I know. He couldn't possibly be talking about my mom because no one had reported her missing yet. Give me a break. I was a little rattled here.

”No,” the officer said, looking puzzled-and who could blame him? ”We're looking for Keelie Keller.”

It must be contagious. I was the puzzled one now.

”You're looking for Keelie Keeler?” I said.