One such regret was his stupid belief that a monthly check was all his sister needed from him the last four years. Which is what brought him to Holy Cross Church’s doorstep, blowing warm breath into his cupped palms while waiting for Adeline, the choir director, to arrive. Anyone in Hook knew, if you wanted gossip without asking for it, you paid a visit to Adeline. She had a habit of talking to herself within earshot of anyone who would listen in—although Sarge always suspected she stirred the pot on purpose. Knowing River, though, she wouldn’t tell him without a fight how the last four years had been. And he needed to know so he could help.
“Never say that’s Sarge Purcell waiting on me.” He turned just in time to see Adeline slap her knee, lipstick-smeared teeth spreading into a genuine smile he couldn’t help but return. “I heard you were back in town and I said, send that boy to see me. Who was it that sent you? Was it Gerald at the tobacco shop?” Adeline trudged past him, fumbling with her keys. “Nasty gambling habit, that one,” she muttered on the way.
Same old Adeline. Funny how when he’d left Hook, he’d been disgusted by its inability to change. Now, though, he was glad as hell it remained the place stored in his memory. “How’s the choir shaping up for next year?” Sarge asked, following Adeline into the church office.
“Oh, fair enough, I suppose. A few squeaky wheels, a blown tire or two.” She said something under her breath that sounded like goddamn Debbie. “What do they want from us, though?” Her eyebrows bobbed underneath her eyeglass frames. “We’re not big fancy professionals like you.”
“We’re not fancy, but we get by,” Sarge murmured, dropping into the chair she indicated. “River asked me to play a song or two on Christmas Eve.”
That was the only prompt the choir director needed. “That sister of yours, Sarge. I tell you, there isn’t a single bad word a body could say against her. And after everything she’s been through.”
“Right.” A lump formed in Sarge’s throat. When River and her high school sweetheart broke up, Sarge had just left Hook, caught up in the whirlwind that came with earning a contract and being thrown into a recording studio with three seemingly incompatible strangers. “All she’s been through.”
“I thought that man would come to his senses when she got pregnant with Marcy, but I was wrong. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since he rolled back into Hook after being discharged. Only stayed in town long enough to break your sister’s heart, then off he went, the bastard.”
Ah, Jesus. River had led him to believe the breakup with Vaughn had been a mutual decision. But it hadn’t. She’d been pregnant and abandoned. Had she even been truthful with their parents about the situation? Strange enough, he remembered Vaughn as a stand-up guy, if clearly troubled. One who’d been crazy about River since Sarge could remember. Obviously he’d been way off about the man who’d dated his sister through high school. “Vaughn’s uncle still in town, or…?” Sarge managed around the razor blades he’d swallowed.
“No, he made for Florida when Vaughn enlisted. Do you know he never once set foot into the Sunday church service? Not when he was raising Vaughn and not after,” Adeline said, lowering her glasses as if she’d just imparted the worst transgression known to man. “I think his apartment above the stationery store is still empty, which should tell you something about the real estate market in Hook. Dead as a doornail.”
“Sign’s still broken over the stationery shop?”
“That’s the way things stay when you’re cheap as dirt.” Adeline patted her hair. “Ask your sister about cheap. That man she’s working for would risk his life to save a penny from being run over.”
Sarge couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “The factory owner?”
“Nope!” Adeline slapped both hands onto the desk. “That run-down house of sin she’s working in three nights a week. Cocktail waitressing, if that’s what you call donning a skirt and parading around with a tray.” For some reason she put the word “tray” in quotation marks, but Sarge was too stunned to explore why.
He leaned forward slowly in his chair. “We’re still talking about River?”
“Yes, sir.” The old woman huffed. “You can’t blame me for passing on news. I just assumed you knew.”
With a jolt, Sarge realized he’d come to his feet. “No…of course. I don’t blame you. I’m glad I know.” He remembered the shock of seeing his notoriously peppy sister looking so exhausted, framed by the doorway of their childhood house. Hadn’t he decided then and there to help River? To make up for his four-year absence by doing a hell of a lot more than sending checks? Better get started. “You wouldn’t happen to have a phone number for Vaughn, would you, Adeline?”
“No, I do not.” Adeline lit a cigarette and blew a stream of smoke at the ceiling. “But I have an address for him.”
“How?”
Adeline took another long drag of nicotine, watching him over her fingers. “When Vaughn’s uncle left town, he left behind some furniture and the landlord said the church could have a look, see what was worth keeping. I found a few envelopes from Vaughn among his things. Nothing inside, but there was a return address.” Cigarette in her mouth, Adeline rooted through the top drawer of her desk before pulling out a sealed envelope and handing it to Sarge. “Don’t make me regret I gave that to you.”
“I won’t.” Sarge turned from the desk, dropping a heavy hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to take care of it.”
She clicked her desk drawer shut and inclined her head. “See that you do.”
Chapter Ten