“Is there anything better than chip therapy?”
“No,” he admitted. “But this would be really close. We’d love to see you there. It’s at eight thirty.”
Well, hell. “Maybe.” She paused. “And thanks. You’ve been so kind—and helpful, too.”
He cocked his head, eyes curious. “I haven’t done anything.”
She thought about the list and how she was working her way down it. And how, in spite of having about a fifty-percent success rate at the moment, it’d felt really good to face those ghosts. “You did a lot,” she said. “You motivated me.”
He smiled. “Well, then, I’m glad. You’ve got my number if you need a ride. Otherwise I hope to see you tonight.”
She nodded and then went through the checkout. And if she added a candy bar from the evil, evil rack right before the cash register, no one but she had to know.
She had one more stop to make before heading home, and suddenly she needed the candy bar to face it. Chocolate courage, she decided. She inhaled it and then headed to the Love Shack. She knew that someone from her list went there every night for a quick nightcap before heading home.
Sue Henderson.
Back when Aubrey had been eighteen, Sue had been an assistant DA. She’d moved up the ranks in the years since. She was a judge now, which only made her all the more intimidating. She was at the bar nursing a white wine when Aubrey approached. The only reaction Sue gave was a simple narrowing of her critical gaze over the rim of her glass.
“Well, that answers the question of whether you remember me,” Aubrey said, and gestured for the bartender. She was going to need a drink for this.
“Rumor is you’re working your way through town and making apologies,” Sue said.
Aubrey stared at her, stunned. “Well, that was quick.”
Sue shrugged. “It’s Lucky Harbor.”
True. Aubrey accepted her wine from the bartender. It was Jax serving tonight. He co-owned the bar with Ford. Jax was handsome and charming—and sharp enough to take one look at Aubrey and Sue sitting together and bring them each a second glass. “On the house,” he said, shooting Aubrey a quick wink before moving off.
Sue finished off her first wine and reached for her second. “So.”
“So,” Aubrey said. Her heart started pounding. This was always the worst part, getting started. But then Sue started for her.
“You put green food coloring in my pool on the day I was hosting a huge, important town hall luncheon,” she said. “The luncheon I was hoping would get me from ADA to DA. I spent a fortune decorating my backyard that day, bringing in gorgeous tables and flowers. The caterers had set up around my pool—which, thanks to you, looked like a toilet tank. A really disgusting toilet tank.”
“Yes,” Aubrey said, nodding. “I did that.”
“I didn’t get to be DA that year.”
Aubrey knew that, too. Sue had been her father’s neighbor. They were still neighbors, actually. And on the few occasions when Aubrey had been invited to visit, Aubrey had run across Sue, as she and her father had been friends.
Sue hadn’t approved of Aubrey’s beauty contests and general upbringing. She’d been fond of saying things like “Looks will fade, Aubrey, and you’ll find yourself fading along with them” and “I guess your sister really did get all the brains.”
Aubrey hadn’t really minded hearing the looks-fading thing; she’d known that. But she had minded being held up against her sister and found lacking. Or maybe she’d just been plain tired of all of it by then. Regardless, she’d done Sue wrong. “I shouldn’t have put the green food coloring in your pool,” she said.
“And my pond,” Sue added.
“And your pond,” Aubrey said in agreement.
Sue stared at her. “That’s it? That’s my big apology?”
“You did eventually get promoted,” Aubrey pointed out. “And you’re a judge now. A good one.”
Sue looked slightly mollified. “I am a good judge. But you stained the pool’s finish—did you know that? We had to drain it and redo it. And the pond…you killed my fish.”
“I know,” Aubrey said. “It was a rotten thing to do.” She paused. “You work with troubled teens.”
“Yes,” Sue said, looking suspicious. “Aren’t you a little old to be a troubled teen?”
Aubrey ignored the jab. “You’ve funded a special program for them at the teen center. You bring in career women once a week to meet with the girls and talk with them about their options. Doctors, lawyers, chefs—”
“I do.”
“I thought maybe I could volunteer to do that,” Aubrey said casually, even though she felt anything but casual. She felt…nervous. Sick with it, actually. But it was something she wanted to do to help others, especially those who were as emotionally adrift as she had been.
“You want to talk to troubled teen girls,” Sue said dubiously.
“Well, who better than a once troubled teen girl?” Aubrey asked quietly.
Sue looked at her for a long moment. “The people I have working with those teens are no longer troubled.”
“I’m no longer troubled,” Aubrey said.
“Just a few months ago, you slept with your boss and lost your job because of it.”
When would that stop following her around? “No,” she said. “I slept with my date, who turned out to be screwing half the town. I quit my job because he also turned out to be slime.”
Sue just looked at her.
“Okay, so he was also my boss,” she admitted. “But…” Aubrey started to say it wasn’t what Sue thought, but the truth was…it’d been exactly as Sue thought. She met the judge’s gaze. “You know what? Never mind. It was a ridiculous idea.”
Ben had been eating nachos and nursing a beer with Jack and Luke when Aubrey had walked into the Love Shack. She’d gone straight to the bar without seeing him, her gaze locked on someone already there.
At his table, Jack was telling them the story of having to rescue one of the world’s dumbest criminals on the job yesterday. Some guy had climbed a tree outside the convenience store to reach the second-story window, where the office was. Presumably the idea was to break in from above, but he got stuck in the window, half in and half out, hanging twenty-five feet above the ground, screaming for help.
Ben laughed at this right along with Luke, but his gaze kept being drawn back to the bar.
And Aubrey, as she’d sat sipping a wine, talking to Judge Sue Henderson.
The two women had looked incredibly cool and calm, but Ben knew Aubrey—knew the telltale signs that revealed the real Aubrey beneath the veneer. Her smile wasn’t reaching her eyes. Her legs were crossed, her body still, except for the slight movement of her fingers nudging her glass back and forth. She appeared to be taking a breath every two or three minutes. He supposed that’s how she’d survived her rough patches—by going into hibernation mode.
But he’d also seen her looking very much alive and breathing, like she’d just run a marathon, and he much preferred that look to this brittle one.
She seemed to be near a breaking point. How was it that no one but him saw that?
Then the judge had said something, and though Aubrey didn’t move, he could tell whatever it’d been, the barb had hit deep. Aubrey nodded, tossed back her wine, and stood. She said something. Sue didn’t respond, and Aubrey walked off.