Shine On Oklahoma Page 2

  Kendra dug out her car keys, dangled them in front of him. He took them, looked at them, and said, “You’re driving a ‘Vette?”

  That smile was real. “Sixty-two, red and white drop top. It’s my most prized possession.”

  “I bet it is.” He wondered what poor slob she’d taken for such a sweet ride, but he took the keys without asking and headed out to the parking lot to get her bags. Not because he was falling into her sticky, deadly web again, but because he hadn’t been raised to tell a girl to go get her own damn bags.

  And because he wanted to get a look at that car.

  #

  Kendra drove out to the place where she’d grown up playing in wildflower meadows with her twin sister and thinking life would always be just that sweet.

  She barely remembered her mother. Kiley didn’t either, but she’d built a pretty convincing version in her imagination—equal parts sixties sit-com supermom and angel. But Diana Kellogg hadn’t lived to see her twin daughters’ fourth birthday, and she couldn’t have been too angelic. She’d married Jack, after all.

  Kendra’s heart twisted up a little as she thought of her father. In her head she saw his smile, the one that could charm the panties off a nun, the deep dimples, the sparkle in his light blue eyes.

  He’d better be okay.

  She glanced into the rearview mirror. Dax’s angry, snarling Charger came right behind, like a bright orange tiger stalking a deer, ironically, driven by the sweetest guy in America. Or at least he used to be. He seemed bitter now, wary, but whose fault was that? She firmed her jaw, caught a gear, pressed harder on the gas.

  A few miles west of The Long Branch, she took a right onto Pine Road. She’d never seen the irony in the name until she’d lived in the northeast for a while. You couldn’t get five minutes outside NYC before the majestic conifers showed up, carpeting every rolling hill and tall enough to tickle the sky. What passed for a pine tree here was like a New York pine tree’s botched GMO experiment. One of the freaky ones that would have to be mercifully put down.

  It was different here. Flatter, and wider, and hotter. And the pine trees were crooked and short, like arthritic old men.

  The road was familiar, unwinding between wide meadows and harvested fields. The grasses were tall and spotted with orange Indian Paintbrush and yellow dandelions, even in mid-November, all of it swaying in the breeze like a slow-motion dance. The sun hung low. Every now and then, a sunbeam bounced off the Cimarron, at the far edge of the green dancing meadow, and flashed bright yellow in her eyes. It was fall. And she was home.

  “What a sentimental pile of horse shit.” She turned left into the driveway, under the big HOLIDAY RANCH arch, past the barns, all freshly painted red with white trim. They’d cleared out the barnyard that used to be in front of the smaller barn, dozed it flat and added gravel to make a parking area surrounded by a split rail fence. The big barn had been modified, and looked almost new. There were horses grazing in the fields that stretched between the barns and the river, colts kicking up their heels where Kendra and Kiley used to play.

  They’d painted the house too, white with red trim, and a white picket fence surrounded it now.

  “It must’a looked so pretty once,” a little girl’s voice said in her memory. And she was there, right there, near that corner fencepost, with Kiley, who held up a rotted piece of rail that was still clinging by a single nail. “I bet it went all the way around.”

  “We could fix it, maybe,” Kendra had said, her head full of visions of how nice it would look. Visions that had been quickly shattered, when her father put his two cents in. “And how you gonna get the funds for it, Kendra? Who’s gonna buy the boards and the nails and the paint? Not me, I’ll tell you that. You gotta start thinking about things like this now, so you don’t grow up all dependent and needy. You gotta figure out how to make your own way in this world. No one’s ever gonna do it for you.”

  She sighed and snapped her attention back to the present, to the white picket fence around the house, and the shutters with the little heart-shaped cutouts. They’d replaced the old, rotting window boxes with new ones, painted red to match the barn, all of them overflowing with orange and yellow flowers.

  It was as pretty as two little girls had once dreamed it could be.

  The front door opened, and Kiley came outside. Her belly was as big as a beach ball. Her hands rested on top of it, and its weight pulled her back into a gentle arch.

  Kendra hit the clutch and brakes and sat there in a cloud of red Oklahoma dust, staring. “What the—”

  A soft beep beep from behind made her blink. Swallowing hard, she eased the stick into first gear and found a spot to park.

  Her sister was pregnant and she hadn’t told her.

  Kendra didn’t like the way that hurt. She didn’t do emotional shit, so it was uncomfortable to feel as if a hot blade had just slipped cleanly between her ribs and right though her heart. A blade held by Kiley. Kiley! The good twin.

  She shut the car off and got out, taking a ridiculous amount of time to adjust her handbag over her shoulder, and clip her keyring into its spot inside.

  Then, vaguely aware of the Charger rumbling to a stop nearby and shutting off, and of its door opening and closing again, Kendra walked toward the house where her sister waited.

  Kiley looked worried behind her welcome-home smile.

  Kendra walked a little faster, her anger like a weighted blanket, laid over the hurt. Anger was much more comfortable to her. No way was she going to let the sunshine, the breeze, and the combined smells of horse, hay, and river sooth her indignation away.

  When she got close enough, she stopped, crossed her arms over her chest involuntarily. “How could you not tell me?”

  Kiley’s smile died. She looked down, looked up again, sighed. “You want to do this now? Don’t even want to catch up first? See what we’ve done with the place? Tell me what you’ve been up to?”

  “Why, Kiley?”

  Kiley heaved a sigh. “Because I don’t want our father to know she exists.”

  “She?”

  “Yeah. We’re having a girl.”

  And she wasn’t going to tell me, Kendra reminded herself, when the idea of a little girl running around this place tried to dissolve her anger by dousing it in buckets of warm gooiness. “She’s his granddaughter,” Kendra said. “He has a right—”

  “He’s a criminal. He has no rights. I don’t want her growing up like we did, Kendra.”

  “How could she? She’s got Snow White and Prince Charming for parents.”

  “Don’t. Just don’t.” Kiley held up a stop-sign hand, shaking her head rapidly. “You remember how it was, the kinds of people who were always coming around. We’re lucky nothing awful happened.”

  “Uncle Willie? Fat Carl and Miss Dolly? Those kinds of people?”

  “Yeah,” Kiley said. “Crooks.”

  “You used to call them family.”

  “I didn’t know any better.”

  “You’ll never know any better. They’re salt-of-the-earth people, Kendra.”

  “Willie robbed banks, Fat Carl hustled tourists.”

  “And Dolly was always there for us, any time we needed her. She tracked us down at every foster home. She made sure we each got a present every birthday, every Christmas.”

  Kiley lowered her head. “Dolly’s a con. Not a very good one, though.” She smiled a little. She’d always had a soft spot for Miss Dolly, and Kendra knew it. “But if she knew, Dad would know.”

  “Dad isn’t so bad that he doesn’t deserve to know he has a grandchild.”

  “Yes, he is, Kendra! You’ve just always had a blind spot where he’s concerned. I’ve never understood it. You can see right through everyone else, straight to their flaws and hidden motives. But with Dad, you just…you just want him to be a good father so much that you refuse to see he’s just…not.”

  “So what? You’re perfect now?”

  “I’m not gonna have criminals around
my daughter.”

  “And that includes me, right Kiley?”

  Kiley lowered her head. “I want you in her life. I do. You’re my sister.”

  “But?”

  “But… not if you’re gonna keep living like that.”

  “So you’re gonna dictate my life now?”

  “No. I just get to dictate my daughter’s.”

  “Yeah. Good luck with that.” Kendra turned back toward the car. Dax was standing a few feet behind her, his eyes on hers, and damned if they weren’t sympathetic.

  “Don’t go yet,” Kiley said.

  Kendra stopped, but didn’t turn back around. She couldn’t really. Dax’s eyes had latched onto hers somehow and there was a conversation happening between them that went something like,

  Dax: It’s gonna be okay. I’m here for you.

  Kendra: I will punch you in the face if you feel sorry for me.

  Dax: I’ll feel sorry for you anyway, though.

  “The baby’s not here yet,” Kiley went on, coming up behind her, touching her shoulder with a hand that landed like a nervous bird ready to take flight if she so much as twitched. “And there’s plenty of time before she does. And I really want you to stay.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I miss you,” she said. And it sounded honest and kind of sad. And since, allegedly, her sister didn’t believe in conning people anymore, it probably was. Besides, Kendra always knew when Kiley was lying.

  Kendra turned to face her twin. Kiley’s skin was like a blushing peach, and her eyes shone with a glimmering coat of unshed tears.

  “I’m not gonna let you tell me how to be.”

  “Maybe we don’t have to talk about that right now,” Kiley said.

  Kendra rolled her eyes. “What are we gonna talk about?”

  “Holiday Ranch. Married life. The fact that I can no longer tie my own shoes.” She bent slightly forward, reaching down with both arms to demonstrate. Her fingertips only made it to her knees.

  Kendra tried not to laugh, but it burst through anyway, as involuntary as a sneeze.

  Kiley smiled too. “I’m gonna name her after Mom.”

  “Ah hell, just keep pouring on the mush, why don’t you?” Kendra blinked wet heat from her eyes. “I don’t like being judged,” she said. “You don’t get to do that to me, Kiley.”

  Kiley lowered her head. Her husband Rob, who’d been standing quietly a few steps behind her, came closer, leaned in, whispered in her ear.

  She blew like an agitated mare and met Kendra’s eyes again. “Okay,” she said. “Come on, let me show you what I’ve been up to around here.”

  Sighing, Kendra nodded. To her surprise, Dax fell into step beside her as she followed Kiley and Rob up a pretty stone footpath toward the barns. Leaning sideways, he whispered, “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you she was pregnant.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Kendra was really pissed about that.

  “Because it was between two sisters. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Rob and his family, it’s that a man has to be damn near suicidal to meddle in a mess between sisters.”

  “So it wasn’t a little bit of payback for what I did to you before?” She looked up at him as she asked the question.

  He seemed surprised. “Not even a little bit,” he said. “I’m not wired that way, Kendra. I’m not vindictive. You know me better than that.”

  He was hurt she’d even asked. Well, hell, she was killing it here, wasn’t she? “You’re right,” she said. “I do know you better than that.”

  He gave a nod and started walking again.

  Sighing, Kendra did, too.

  She knew what her sister was doing. Kiley probably figured if Kendra spent some time here in this goodie-two-shoes town with her husband’s goodie-two-shoes family, she’d see the light, throw away her entire life, and join the goodie-two-shoes movement. It was a stupid plan, and a wasted effort, since she hadn’t run a con in a year and a half.

  Until now. She was here for one reason and one reason only.

  To save her father’s life.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dax couldn’t take his eyes off Kendra. Kiley led them all around the place, moving in a kind of waddle that made you just want to hug her. And then maybe carry her the rest of the way. It was a heavy load she was hauling, and she was a little thing. He didn’t know how women did it, to be honest. Rob stayed close by, and he was watchful, careful, opening doors, pointing out hazards she might trip over, hovering near enough to catch her should she stumble. It was obvious that Kiley was both irritated and touched by the attention.

  Kendra was pretty well focused on the place, though. And no wonder. It was where she’d spent her childhood, and very different now from the last time she’d seen it. The larger barn had been refitted with stables that lined both sides. The horses were outside grazing, but the place still smelled like them, and their molasses flavored grain and good straw bedding. He loved the smell of a stable.

  Kendra seemed to like it, too. He noticed her inhaling nasally, closing her eyes for a second. She had the ability to savor life like no one he’d ever known, in those rare moments when she could get out of her head long enough. Sadly, she didn’t do that very often.

  When she opened her eyes again, she caught him looking and plastered an unimpressed expression on her face.

  They walked through, then out the other end and back around to the smaller barn, which had been completely converted, too. One part was sectioned off, and had a counter with a cash register. It was lined in pegged wallboards, every inch covered in items for sale. There were spinning racks and display shelves of all sorts. The merchandise changed with the seasons and ranged widely in value. In the summer, there’d been sparklers and full-sized flags and kits to hang them. Up to a couple of weeks ago, there’d been Jack-o-lantern carving kits with fancy patterns, all sorts of Halloween decorations, and a rack of costumes ten feet long. But Halloween had passed, and now the shop was filled with wreaths of orange and yellow maple leaves, and cornucopia shells, some filled to overflowing and some empty so you could fill them yourself. Lots of turkeys, lots of native Americans sitting down to feast with the newly arrived immigrant pilgrims.

  “This is really… this is nice, Kiley,” Kendra said, and it was sincere. She moved through the shop, picking up a Thanksgiving-themed apron. It was white with russet piping, and had a bountiful table stitched together in a mosaic of different colored cloth, and quilted onto the front. The word “Grateful” was embroidered above it.

  “Wow,” she said. She checked out the tiny, tight stitches and then the price tag. “Are you kidding me? Is this with a markup, Kiley?”

  “Twenty-five percent,” Kiley said.

  “Where did you find something this good for this price?”

  “The town librarian makes them. Velma Scruggs, you remember her?”

  “Velma is still the librarian?” Kendra met her sister’s eyes and smiled.

  Dax stopped breathing. It was genuine, that smile. There was no calculation behind it, no motive. It was bubbling out from underneath the mask she wore. It looked the same, that mask. But it wasn’t real.

  The real thing was almost blinding. And Dax knew the difference better than anyone else, except maybe Kiley.

  “We turned the whole second level into a haunted house for September and October,” Kiley said, her pride and excitement in the bright resonance of her voice. “I swear, every kid in town went through ten times.”

  “What did you charge them?”

  “Not enough that you wouldn’t tell me to charge more,” she said. “I felt bad for the kids who came back over and over and just stopped charging them at all.”

  Kendra lifted her brows. “You running a business or a non-profit?”

  “We did fine,” Kiley said.

  “Sure. Next year, sell season passes. Charge as little as you want, but getting something out of every visit is better than getting nothing out of some of them.” She looked around.
“And get a handful of vending machines out here. Pop, snacks. You have teenagers, you’re gonna need snacks. Get machines instead of hiring staff to feed ‘em, and you’re immediately making more money without doing another thing.”

  Kiley shot her husband an unspoken question. He replied with his eyes somehow. Dax saw the communication happening, but it was entirely private. That was amazing. Was every couple in love like that?

  Kiley turned back to Kendra and said, “That’s a really good idea.”

  “Of course it is. Knowing what people want and how to give it to them is the first lesson Jack ever taught us.” Something flashed in her eyes when she said her father’s name. Dax saw it and frowned and felt like the guy whose job it was to watch the skies, waiting for signs of alien life. Nothing, nothing, nothing, then suddenly something. And before you can even figure out what it was, you’re back to staring at nothing again and wondering if the something was anything at all.

  He would hate that job.

  He hated the job he was facing right then, too. Caleb Montgomery, a local lawyer and Rob’s step-brother-in-law, had got him the name of an extremely discreet accountant. The fellow was already going over the track’s books.

  Dax had to protect his mother from any legal fallout from his father’s behavior. So he couldn’t let the SRA anywhere near those books until he knew what was in them, and figured out how to protect his mother from being prosecuted for it. She’d been a silent partner, just collecting a check for her share every quarter, but Cal had assured him if anything illegal had gone on at the track, she would face charges anyway.

  The lawyers were waiting for him to get back to them, to accept or refuse his inheritance. He needed to stall them and wasn’t sure he could.

  The crew was heading back toward the house now. They’d asked Kendra to stay for lunch, and they’d included him in the invitation. So he headed to the house with the rest of them, and watched Kendra’s eyes as they walked through the kitchen with its rustic white cabinets and wrought-iron hardware, and its red and white checkerboard tiled backsplash and white granite countertop. He watched her as they went into the big, cozy living room with the sectional sofa all draped in shaggy, fringy, snuggly looking throws in brown and tan and burgundy and mustard. Throw pillows in the same shades, but not too many. And not those square, rock hard ones either. These were soft, made for resting your head on.