All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)

Chantal laughed, then turned to Dominique. “Her grandmother has a cat who insists on climbing trees. He’s on the chunky side and has trouble getting down, so I go out and rescue him.”


“You climb a tree to rescue a cat?”

She nodded. “He’s rarely grateful, but his owner is.”

“You’re risking your neck for a cat?”

“That’s what I do. I take care of people here.”

“If there’s a fire.”

“Not just fires. We show up at car accidents, or if a kid gets stuck somewhere.”

Dominique didn’t understand any part of her daughter’s work. “Aren’t there men who can do your job better?”

Chantal’s eyes turned icy. “No. There aren’t. I’m damned good at what I do. I work hard and I find the job rewarding.”

Dominique sensed she’d made a misstep somewhere, but didn’t know how it had happened. “I’m not saying you’re not competent. It’s just so dangerous. Wouldn’t you rather do something safer?”

“Not really.”

“I just don’t understand.”

“Hardly news.”

They crossed the street. As they walked by a hair salon, a woman rushed out. She was in her twenties, with brown hair and brown eyes. Not the least bit remarkable, Dominique thought. It must be difficult to be ordinary.

Chantal stopped. “Patience, hi.”

“Hi yourself.” The other woman handed over a book. “I finished it and it’s as wonderful as I thought. Very sexy. These days I have to get my thrills in romance novels. At least that guy always turns out to be one of the good ones.”

Dominique saw a brightly colored cover and an author’s name she didn’t recognize. Chantal read romances? Dominique had always enjoyed them, as well. Something for them to talk about, she told herself.

“Patience, this is my mother. Dominique—”

“Dixon,” Dominique said, interrupting. “Dominique Dixon.”

“Nice to meet you,” Patience said, shaking her hand. Her head tilted. “How strange. You remind me of someone. My daughter is crazy about ballet and she has several DVDs starring a beautiful ballerina who...” She paused and laughed. “I’m being silly. Never mind.”

Chantal raised her eyebrows, as if waiting for Dominique to announce she was the beautiful star of those DVDs.

“I’ve always been a fan of ballet,” Dominique said instead. “Discipline for the soul and the body. I hope she continues with it.”

“Me, too. But she’s nine. Who knows what will capture her attention tomorrow.” She glanced back at the salon. “I’ve got to get back. Eddie Carberry is getting a perm and if I don’t watch her every second, she starts messing with the curlers. Nice to meet you Mrs. Dixon.”

“Call me Dominique.”

Patience waved and ducked back into the building.

Chantal pointed to the Starbucks across the street. “When did you start going by Dixon?”

“I prefer it from time to time. There’s no need for your friends to know who I am, so Dixon makes more sense while I’m here.” Something she had just that second decided, but was pleased with her generosity.

“You’re assuming I haven’t told them who you are.”

“Have you?”

“Not all of them.”

They ordered their drinks, then took them outside to a free table. Dominique was careful to sit out of the sun. Laser treatments might erase unsightly age spots, but the damage never really went away.

“I remember when little girls would run up to me and beg for an autograph,” Dominique said with a sigh. “It’s been a long time since anyone recognized me.”

“You’re still beautiful, Mom.”

Dominique picked up her coffee. “I’m old and don’t fit anywhere. Fame is fleeting. I’d heard that, of course, but never believed it. You’re much smarter than me. You have a place where you belong. It will still be here when you’re my age.” She managed a shaky smile. “Unless the big one comes and California falls into the ocean.”

Chantal smiled back. “The tectonic plates are moving toward each other, rather than away. So we’re not at any risk of disappearing under water. At least not from an earthquake.”

“Good to know.”

She put down her coffee and studied her daughter. Chantal had decent skin and nice bone structure. But her hair was a disaster, as were her clothes.

“Do you ever wear makeup?”

Chantal’s expression tightened. “This was great, Mother, but I have to go.”

Dominique realized how her question had been interpreted. “I wasn’t being critical. I was just asking. I wondered if not wearing it is a personal choice or because you don’t know how to apply it. You could be quite attractive.”

“In the right light?”

“Lighting can be a woman’s best friend. I could show you a few tricks. If you’re interested.”

“Maybe another time.”

Dominique sensed she’d made another mistake, but wasn’t sure where or how. Defeat weighed heavily on her shoulders.