An Unlikely Family. Cynthia Thomason
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waiter returned to the table with a brown bag in his hand. “Hey, Billy, your take-out is ready.”
“Okay, thanks.” He stared at Evie a moment longer. “Nice seeing you again.”
“Same here.”
He left the dining room, and Evie watched out the front window as he crossed the street toward the Heron Point City Hall. When she looked back at her companions, they were all smiling. “What?”
“He likes you,” Helen said.
Evie’s mouth dropped open before she said, “No, I don’t think so.” She was about to explain that she knew Billy had a family, but Helen interrupted.
“Of course he does. He didn’t come over here to check out the kind of tea we were having. His interest was all on you.”
Pet flipped her long platinum braid over her shoulder. “Be fair, Helen. Maybe Billy was just being friendly. His days as a womanizer are pretty much behind him now. And he’s a good person. He’s just been unlucky in love.”
“That’s right,” Claire agreed. “And he’s hardworking. He’s eating his lunch in the squad car. That shows dedication.”
Helen snickered. “More likely he’s avoiding that control freak of a mother who lives with him. I wouldn’t go home to lunch with her, either.”
Evie leaned back, trying to catch a glimpse of the cruiser through the window. “He lives with his mother?”
“Yes, he does,” Claire said. “And his daughter.”
So this was Billy’s family? His mother and daughter?
“By the way, Evie,” Helen said, “you’ll get to know Billy’s daughter, Gemma. She’ll be in the fourth grade this year.”
“Oh, really? I look forward to meeting her.”
Helen sent a devious glance to her friends.
“Okay, Helen,” Evie said, “is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Do not influence this woman one way or the other,” Claire said. “It wouldn’t be right.”
The baby woke and started to fuss. Helen picked him up. “I guess you’ll draw your own conclusions soon enough,” she said. “Just remember that name—Gemma Scarlett Muldoone.” Settling the baby against her shoulder, she added, “And you might want to put Billy’s cell phone number on your speed dial.”
CHAPTER THREE
SATURDAY NIGHT YAWNED ahead of Evie like the flat Florida landscape she’d driven through two days before. She’d spent the day at the school organizing her work space and adding personal touches. The small office was beginning to feel like home.
She wished she could say the same for Hester Poole’s frilly little haven. But Evie didn’t think she could stand sipping another iced tea from a flowery pink tumbler or bathing with another of the rose-shaped, quarter-size soaps Hester provided with a ruffled shower cap. And surfing the eight channels the outdoor antenna picked up wasn’t any more appealing.
If she were in Detroit, Evie would be spending Saturday night with one of her few remaining friends who still lived in the city, or going on a don’t-get-your-hopes-up date, or hitting one of the local cineplexes. A movie wasn’t an option in Heron Point. There wasn’t a single theater in town.
She supposed she could wander down Hester’s brick-paved walkway to the Gulf and watch the tide roll in, but she was starving. She decided to go into town to the Green Door Café for supper. Maybe she’d run into Pet Sweeney.
What Evie hadn’t counted on was the volume of traffic in town on a Saturday night. After two slow passes down Island Avenue, she finally spotted a car pulling out of a space. She did what she always criticized other drivers for doing—she sat in the street with her blinker on to nab the spot before anyone else could. And she did her best to ignore the drivers in the line behind her.
When she got out of her car, she noticed she was close to Wear It Again, the clothing store owned by her new friend, Claire. Evie walked up to the display window and looked inside. Claire had said she ran a vintage shop. All the selections Evie could see through the glass were elegant and unusual, and according to the tags within sight, some once belonged to Hollywood celebrities.
The store was crowded, but Evie ventured in anyway. She wouldn’t stay long, just say hi to Claire. A young woman signaled to her when she came inside. “Be right with you,” she said.
“Hi, I’m Sue Ellen,” she said a few minutes later, unnecessarily. She wore a name tag on the lapel of her shabby chic jacket. “Can I help you?”
“I stopped by to see Claire,” Evie explained.
“Oh, she’s not here. She’s hardly ever here on a Saturday night.” She nodded toward another girl who had pinned her name tag to a wide band around her hair. “We handle things on weekend nights.”
Evie thanked her and left the shop. Imagine not being present for what must be the biggest sales night of the week. Claire must have a lot of confidence in her employees or, more likely, she wasn’t as concerned about the income as many of the island’s shopkeepers appeared to be.
Evie walked the three blocks to the Green Door, dodging couples holding hands or families with strollers. She hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long for a table since it was nearly eight o’clock. The restaurant was busy, but Evie managed to grab a small table by the window. She asked the mature waitress if Pet Sweeney was working.
“Oh, honey,” the woman said, “Pet only works in the daytime. She vowed when she got married she’d never volunteer for a Friday or Saturday night again.” The waitress flipped open her order pad and pulled a pencil from behind her ear. “A lot of the local employees avoid the Avenue on weekends, which is fine with me. It gives us Micopee gals a chance at the biggest tips.”
Evie ordered a hamburger and a raspberry iced tea. So that’s it, she thought, when the waitress had walked away. The locals prefer Heron Point during the week when the tourists weren’t invading.
Since Claire and Pet weren’t in town, and since Helen lived more than an hour’s drive away in Gainesville, Evie had exhausted her supply of new friends who could teach her the fine art of livin’ easy. She bit into a juicy burger and smiled to herself. Unless I count Officer Billy Muldoone, she thought. He must be around town tonight. And I suppose I could call him my friend. She swallowed a sweet gulp of tea. He did find my earring.
She was still thinking about Billy after she left the Green Door and had resumed window-shopping. When she was opposite the largest building in town, the hotel where she’d had lunch yesterday, a commotion near the sidewalk café stopped her. In the middle of it was the tall, broad-shouldered Muldoone.
He saw her at the same time and greeted her in that booming baritone that muted every other sound on the street. “Hey, there, Evie. Come on over.”
She approached slowly since it was obvious Billy was on duty and, in fact, was performing one of his legal responsibilities at that very moment. She stopped a few feet from the entrance to the café. Billy propped his foot on a bench next to a man who was slouched forward with his hands behind his back. Billy rested his elbow on his bent knee. “What are you doing out tonight?” he asked Evie.
She couldn’t resist staring at the man she assumed was Billy’s captive. He was a scruffy-looking character perhaps in his mid-thirties. Though his head was down, she could see a scowl on his face. She noticed, too, a strand of white plastic sticking out from behind his waist. The new type of restraining device used by police forces.
“I’m, uh, just wandering.”
Billy smiled. “Nice night for it.”
She blinked a couple of times. This was the first apprehended criminal she’d seen that wasn’t on the eleven o’clock news. “So what are you doing?”