A High-End Finish

Chapter Eleven

 

 

My scream came out more like a gasp. My arms shot up to catch the heavy weight, but I wasn’t strong enough to catch the bar midfall. I did manage to slow it down, though, and changed its trajectory enough so that instead of landing on my neck and strangling me, it struck my already tender shoulder.

 

That was definitely going to leave a bruise.

 

I still had both hands gripping the bar, but I’d exhausted my muscles and couldn’t budge it. I was trapped beneath the weight, but at least I wasn’t dead.

 

“Help!” I shouted weakly.

 

Penny was already racing across the room. She grabbed the barbell with one hand and dropped it on the floor. “Oh, my God, Shannon! Are you all right? I’m so sorry I left you. You were doing so well, I thought you’d be okay for a minute, but I . . . Oh, my God. I’ll go get the manager.”

 

She ran off and I struggled to sit up. It wasn’t easy to do without shrieking and crying in pain. I had to roll over on my good shoulder and push up from the bench. My injured shoulder was throbbing so badly, I wondered if I would ever use a nail gun again.

 

That might’ve sounded crazy, but my nail gun was a big part of my life.

 

Penny was back in less than a minute with an instant ice pack. “Here, use this.” I took it and pressed it against my shoulder. The cold seeped in immediately and I shivered.

 

“On your way out,” Penny continued, “you need to stop and see Becky, the manager. Tell her what happened and fill out an insurance form.”

 

“She should probably come over here and check out the rack,” I said, pointing at the broken pin. “See how it snapped off?”

 

“Oh, crap.” She wiped away a thin stream of sweat from her temple. “I’m just so sorry, Shannon.”

 

“I’ll be okay,” I said, smiling weakly. “I’m still catching my breath.”

 

A guy sitting on the incline bench across from me spared me a look of disgust. “Chicks should stay away from this place if they don’t know how to use the equipment.”

 

I kept my mean-spirited response to myself and instead muttered, “Yeah, thanks for your help.”

 

But Penny whipped around and said, “Hey, pal, the rack broke. This place better have plenty of insurance, because otherwise, Shannon will own it by the time she gets finished suing their sorry asses.”

 

Go, Penny, I thought, as I held the ice pack against my shoulder and tried not to whimper.

 

She turned her back on the guy and squatted down next to me. “What can I do?”

 

“Don’t worry.” I reached for my water bottle and took a sip. “You got here just in time. Probably saved my life.”

 

“I wouldn’t have had to if I’d been paying attention. There’s no excuse.”

 

“Let’s forget it,” I said, trying for a casual smile. “I’m going to go take a shower and then stop for a bite to eat at the pub on the way home. Do you have other plans tonight or would you like to join me?”

 

“I’d love to join you.”

 

“Okay, good. Let’s meet in the lobby in about forty-five minutes.”

 

“Perfect.”

 

I walked into the locker room, still irritated at Jennifer for distracting Penny in the first place. Maybe I should’ve been annoyed with Penny, too, but she was new enough to town that she hadn’t quite figured out the good guys from the bad guys. And Jennifer was definitely bad. If she hadn’t come over and started flirting with Penny . . . Wait. Flirting? But, yeah, Jennifer had been acting so coy, swaying around and twisting her hair like a ten-year-old talking to her first crush. It was embarrassing. And so out of character that I was instantly suspicious.

 

Maybe she needed a bank loan. Maybe she was desperate. Maybe her credit was lousy. It would be just like Jennifer to fake a friendship to get what she wanted.

 

In the locker room, I stripped and wrapped a towel around me and walked into the steam room, hoping some wet heat would help my shoulder. I’d have to remember to grab another ice pack on the way out.

 

I sat in the damp, sizzling heat for ten minutes and then escaped to the showers. Thirty minutes later, I went to find Becky, the manager.

 

“Penny told me about the incident,” Becky said. “I’m really sorry about it. We check the machines and equipment every morning and those pins were fine a few hours ago.”

 

“I believe you,” I said, and meant it. “It was just weird how it happened the way it did. I hate to admit it, but I’m still kind of shaken up.”

 

“Let’s have you fill out an accident report so we can get the insurance company involved.”

 

As I filled out the form, she assured me that if I needed to see a doctor, their insurance would cover it. I didn’t think it would come to that, but I appreciated her concern.

 

I didn’t write it down on the form, but I’d been thinking about that moment when Jennifer came over to giggle with Penny. She had grabbed hold of the rack and was swaying around as she talked. I’d stopped paying attention because she was such a twit, but now I wondered if she had deliberately done something to the pin to break it while I was working out.

 

It was a far-fetched theory, but having known Jennifer for all these years, I wouldn’t put it past her to try to sabotage me like that.

 

Becky gave me another instant ice pack for later and I walked back to the lobby. Penny was waiting for me, so we left the gym together.

 

“My car’s right here,” I said. “I’ll see you at the pub.”

 

“Great,” she said. “And dinner’s on me.”

 

“That’s not necessary.”

 

“Yes, it is. I owe you.” She glanced over my shoulder. “Oh, there’s Jennifer. Should we invite her?”

 

“Uh . . .” Before I could answer, Penny skipped over and gave Jennifer a warm hug. I could hear her chirpy voice and knew she was asking Jennifer to join us. I also knew that Jennifer would be happy to join us—as soon as hell froze over.

 

Penny laughed at something Jennifer said and gave her arm a quick squeeze. She didn’t seem to notice the mean girl glaring at me with stone-cold eyes that made me shiver.

 

“She can’t make it,” Penny said when Jennifer walked away. “So I’ll see you in a couple of minutes at the pub.”

 

“Okay.” I waved at Penny, but kept my eye on Jennifer until she got into her spiffy little black BMW, gunned the engine for my benefit, and tore out of the parking lot.

 

? ? ?

 

I called Jane on the way to the pub to invite her to join Penny and me for dinner. I thought she might like to get to know Penny, since it was always good to be friends with a banker. Jane passed on dinner, but said she’d meet me at my house later on to spend the night.

 

The pub was lively on a Friday night. One table in the bar was overflowing with my crew members, so I stopped to talk with them for a minute. I’d seen a few of the guys earlier that afternoon, but I’d been missing out on regular visits to the job sites and wanted to catch up. That would have to wait, though, because I saw Penny walk in a minute later.

 

We found a table in the dining area and both of us ordered a beer and the fish and chips. We ended up staying for almost two hours and found out we had a lot of common interests. If only she would tell Jennifer to buzz off, we might manage to be good friends.

 

“Hello.”

 

I looked up and found Police Chief Eric Jensen’s compelling blue eyes staring right at me. He was out of uniform in a casual jacket, a denim shirt, and blue jeans that looked alarmingly good on him.

 

“Oh, hello,” I said, sounding foolishly breathless. “Are you on duty tonight?”

 

He grinned. “No. I’ve got the night off. Thought I’d come in for a beer.”

 

“That’s nice.” I was about to invite him to join us when I glanced at Penny, who looked positively terrified.

 

I gave him a regretful smile. “I would invite you to join us, but we’re just about to go.”

 

“No worries. I’ve got some friends waiting for me at the bar. I just wanted to stop and say hi.”

 

“Thank you. It’s good to see you.”

 

“You, too.” He lifted his hand in a wave and walked off toward the bar.

 

I turned to Penny. “Are you okay?”

 

“Thanks for making up an excuse,” she said with relief as the waitress brought the bill. “I didn’t want him to sit down.”

 

“What’s wrong? He’s actually pretty nice.” Easy for me to say, I thought. I hadn’t always thought of him as nice.

 

Still on edge, Penny reached for the beer bottle and took a sip. “I hate feeling this way, but I just get so nervous around the police. W-we had a robbery at the bank where I used to work. When the police arrived, they accidentally shot one of our own tellers instead of the bank robber. Ever since then, I can’t help it. I feel really anxious around the police. It’s their guns, I guess.”

 

“I understand.” I leaned in and whispered, “It probably didn’t help that we were all under suspicion for a while.”

 

“So true.” She signed the check and finished the last of her beer.

 

“Are you ready to go?” I absently rubbed my shoulder, feeling achy again and way past tired.

 

“Yes,” she said, smiling with pleasure. “This was so much fun. Let’s do it again soon.”

 

“I’d love to,” I said, and meant it. At least, as long as she didn’t invite Jennifer.

 

? ? ?

 

I slept in fits and starts that night. Not only was my shoulder killing me, but I also suffered another nightmare. This one featured Jennifer and Whitney chasing me on bicycles around the curves of the Old Cove Highway. Cars would swerve and screech their brakes, barely missing me. My bike kept finding gopher holes and ejecting me. I would fly through the air but never hit the ground. Instead, I would wind up back on my bike, racing down the highway with the mean girls in pursuit.

 

Saturday morning, I was still in pain. I felt drained and stiff all over again. But on a positive note, at least I hadn’t dreamed of barbells strangling me.

 

Another happy note was that when I hobbled downstairs to make coffee, I found Jane already there, fixing breakfast.

 

“Good morning,” she said, sounding way too cheerful at this hour of the morning. “Coffee’s ready and breakfast is minutes away.”

 

Recently, Jane had begun testing recipes to use for breakfasts once Hennessey House opened for business. Today she was making her famous apple, bacon, and French toast casserole. I could smell the syrupy topping bubbling in the oven.

 

It was as delicious as it sounded and went a long way toward making me feel better about life in general again.

 

After breakfast, Jane went home to take care of some chores and run errands. I washed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen.

 

As I was finishing, the phone rang and I grabbed it.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi, it’s me.” I recognized my sister Chloe’s voice instantly.

 

“Hey, superstar, how are you?” I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table to talk.

 

After years of office and production work in Hollywood, Chloe had climbed up the food chain and had recently become the host of her very own home-improvement show on the DIY Network.

 

So all those years of hanging out on construction sites with our dad had finally paid off for both of us.

 

These days, Chloe rarely came back home to visit except on holidays. She had made a good life for herself in Hollywood and had a number of close friends who had also moved there from everywhere else in the country. Last year, Dad had helped her buy an adorable cottage in the Silver Lake hills. She’d been with her steady boyfriend for a few years now and his parents loved her.

 

After we touched on all the important stuff—health and happiness and new clothes—I said, “Tell me about the show. What are you working on?”

 

“We just filmed a segment on earthquake damage to concrete patios.”

 

“Ooh. Fascinating stuff.”

 

We both laughed. As long as she was happy, that’s all I cared about. Chloe had a warm, caring soul that somehow, for no lack of effort on Dad’s part or mine, had never fit in here in Lighthouse Cove. During her freshman year in high school, her best friend had died of cancer. Some of the new rich kids in her class thought it was funny that Chloe was so distraught about it, so they liked to make fun of her. Chloe kicked the crap out of a few of the girls and even one boy. After she was threatened with expulsion from school, she resisted making friends again or even getting close to anyone from around here.

 

She loathed the whole class structure that some newer, wealthier residents had tried to impose on those of us who’d been born and raised here. The townies.

 

Maybe it helped that in Hollywood, everyone she knew was from somewhere else, so they all started out on an even playing field. For whatever reason, she had found it easier to make friends there and be happy again. Dad and I missed her, but we both knew she was better off where she was. Besides, I talked to her on the phone every other week or so.

 

I shared all the stories about the murders and she was fascinated, especially with my major role in the macabre scenarios. When I revealed that the murder weapons were actually my own tools, she was horrified.

 

“Yeah, it’s been pretty awful,” I confessed, “especially when our new police chief thought I should be his number-one suspect.”

 

“No way,” she said. “You wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

 

“You’re wrong. I kill fleas all the time. I take great pleasure in doing so.”

 

“Well, no wonder he suspects you. You’re a brazen flea killer.”

 

And after I told her about my bicycle crash and the severed brake line, she accused me of going to a lot of trouble just to meet the delectable new author. We laughed awhile longer, talked about our holiday plans, and promised we would send photos and e-mail more often before we finally ended the call.

 

Once I hung up the phone, I felt restless and unsure of what to do next. After talking to my sister for almost an hour, I missed my dad. But since he wouldn’t be home for a few more days, I was stuck with this antsy feeling.

 

Whenever I felt this way, the best thing to do was bury myself in work. But, sadly, I was still in too much pain to actually show up at one of my job sites and pound nails. Instead, I decided to do some gardening and then figure out where to go from there.

 

For the next hour I clipped fragrant herbs and tied them in bundles to dry. Later this winter I would stir the savory bundles into soups and stews. Some of the herbs I dried were pretty enough to use for decorating and aromatic enough to add to sachets and potpourri. So rather than aimlessly running out the clock, I could chalk up this extra time toward making Christmas goodies for my friends.

 

Although the air was cool, the sun had grown warm, so I took off my sweater and stared up to see if there were any clouds in the sky. That’s when I noticed that the window of Mac’s apartment was halfway open. I took that to mean that he was in there, even though I hadn’t seen him since he’d moved in. His big black SUV was parked in front of my house, another sign of his presence. As I continued to wrap twine around stalks of herbs, I began to fantasize about his lifestyle.

 

Was he hunkered down writing a new book? Did he work all night and sleep all day? I wondered if he knew many people in town, the best places to eat and shop, and whom to call for deliveries. Did he realize that our town was a magnet for New Age foodies and health nuts? Did he care? Was he a vegan? I hoped not, although it was none of my business. But, really, what was wrong with a little red meat, anyway, as long as the animal was raised humanely?

 

He hadn’t said so, but maybe Mac had moved here to join our well-known and very active Zen Buddhism society. They had a lovely retreat, the Sanctuary of the Four Winds, north of town up near the redwood forest. There the Zen acolytes trained and meditated under the guidance of Kikisho—he had the one-word name because he was said to be as famous in his world as Cher was in hers—and prepared themselves for the next phase. Whatever that was.

 

Many of the tourists who came to the sanctuary were into all sorts of other disciplines, including transcendental meditation and multiple-life regression. And if those didn’t float your boat, there were spas on Main Street dedicated to aura-color enhancement, chakra cleansings, and sacred-stone healing.

 

And then there were a few space cadets who showed up wearing backpacks in anticipation of the mother ship carrying them off to the astral plane.

 

Not that I was judging, but Mac didn’t seem like the type to hook up with a spirit guide for a quick trek out to planet Flerb.

 

Okay, maybe I was judging a little.

 

Whatever Mac’s reasons for moving here, he would certainly enjoy some fresh produce—wouldn’t he? I found a small basket and gathered up some lettuce, tomatoes, onions, broccoli, and an artichoke, and tossed in a bundle of herbs. Getting into my mission, I went inside and found a box of tasty crackers and a small round of cheese I hadn’t opened yet. I added a chocolate bar for fun and then climbed the stairs to his apartment.

 

I knocked on the door and waited. It was a full minute before Mac opened the door and I sort of wished he hadn’t. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was sticking straight out from his head as if he had been pulling on it for hours. He wore a faded, out-of-shape T-shirt and a pair of plaid shorts that hung loosely on his hips. The outfit might’ve been sexy if the rest of him was a little more pulled together. But again, I wasn’t judging.

 

“What?” he said, looking startled. “What happened?”

 

“Nothing. Are you all right?”

 

“Fine.” He glanced out the door to see if there was someone else with me. “Working. What do you want?”

 

I held out the basket. “I thought I’d bring you some fresh—”

 

“Hey, thanks,” he said, grabbed the basket, and shut the door in my face.

 

“You’re welcome,” I said to the door. So much for rattling the beast’s cage. At least he’d said thanks. And now he would eat well—if he even remembered he had food.

 

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