All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)

Growing up, Dominique had never had close friends. There was no time. She’d started dancing when she was three and hadn’t stopped until she’d retired some forty years later. Her childhood had been spent studying dance. At sixteen, she’d joined her first ballet company. She’d soloed at seventeen, became a principal dancer at twenty. She toured the world, was a guest in the most prestigious ballet companies and starred in several television productions.

There had been no time for “normal” pursuits, nor had she been interested. She’d lived a life others could only dream of. She was wealthy, beautiful, remarkable. And lonely, she admitted to herself. Her recent health scare had shown her how isolated she’d become. There had been no one to call, no close friends to visit her in the hospital. No one she trusted to see her looking anything but her best.

She stopped in front of a bookstore. There was a display of mysteries by Liz Sutton. A sign declared her to be a local author. Dominique stepped inside to buy a copy of her latest release. Perhaps a novel would help pass the time until she decided what to do next.

She paid for her purchase, but before she could leave, two women approached. One was about her age, the other a decade or two older. The white-haired woman was dressed in a suit that seemed expensive.

“You must be Dominique Guérin,” the older woman said with a friendly smile. She held out her hand. “I’m Marsha Tilson, the mayor of Fool’s Gold. I’ve so wanted to meet you. How nice we could run into you today.”

Dominique shook hands with her, pleased to have been recognized. “Mayor Tilson.”

“Please, call me Marsha. This is my friend May Stryker.” Marsha smiled at the dark-haired woman. “Or is it May Simpson?”

May laughed. “I haven’t decided.” She turned to Dominique. “I was recently married. While I love my husband, I must admit I’ve been a Stryker for so long, I can’t imagine getting used to another name. Glen swears he doesn’t care, so I’m still making up my mind.”

Dominique listened with feigned interest. Something she’d perfected as a child. People were forever telling her things about their lives that she didn’t find the least bit compelling.

May seemed friendly enough, but her clothes! She wore jeans and a worn short-sleeved shirt. Her face had held up over time, but she had freckles and her arms were a little saggy.

“We were going to get a coffee,” Marsha said. “Would you like to join us?”

“I, ah...” Dominique hesitated, not wanting to bother with the women. But she reminded herself that the only cure for loneliness was company. Better this than nothing. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

They walked to the Starbucks on the corner and went inside. Once there, they stood in line and then ordered. Dominique was used to an assistant bringing her coffee. Things were different now, she reminded herself. She would have to get familiar with things like standing in line and ordering for herself.

Once they were seated, May smiled at her. “I know your daughter. Charlie keeps her horse at our ranch.”

Dominique stared at her, not sure which was more horrifying. That May called Chantal Charlie or that her daughter had a horse.

“She rides?”

“Very well. You didn’t know?”

“No.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I thought...” May shifted in the chair.

Marsha, who had much better posture than her friend, lightly touched May’s arm. Dominique knew it was some kind of silent communication but couldn’t figure out what was being said.

“I’ve come here to visit her,” Dominique announced. “Chantal. That’s her actual name. She seems less than thrilled to see me. We’re not close.”

“That must be difficult for you,” Marsha said.

“It is. I know what you’re thinking. That my life has been wonderful. But everyone forgets there’s a price to fame and thousands of hours of hard work went into each performance. Then I lost my husband and Chantal left.”

“Teenagers,” Marsha said. “I know that story. I lost touch with my daughter, as well.”

“Chantal could have stayed in touch with me,” Dominique continued. “I’m the one who was traveling. I’m the one with the difficult schedule. But would she? Of course not. Do you know what she does for a living?”

“She’s an engineer,” May said.

“No, she’s not. She drives a fire truck. My daughter. Astonishing.”

Marsha and May exchanged a glance. Marsha leaned toward Dominique.

“Charlie, um, Chantal, drives the engine. You might know it better as the pumper truck. She is responsible for getting the engine to the emergency. She also operates the pump panels. They determine the amount of water flowing to the hoses. The captain is in charge and Charlie acts as a second in command.”

“Thank you for the explanation,” Dominique said, her voice more brittle than she would like. Although she appreciated the information, she hardly needed a stranger lecturing her on the details of her daughter’s job.

May leaned toward her. “I know this is hard.”

“How?” Dominique demanded. “How do you know that at all?”

“I have three boys of my own. Sometimes staying close is difficult. I’d love to help.”