Marla pictured the gangly brunette with devilish eyes who always tagged behind Dylan. “Did he ever marry that girl in San Diego?”
“No. She wouldn’t play second fiddle to the Marines. Poor old Donovan got a Dear John letter half-way through his second deployment.”
“You better warn him in advance that Charlene’s on the prowl.”
“Still?”
“Always. A single Marine? He’ll be added to the endangered species list once he sets foot in Spring Grove.”
Dwayne held up the phone message. “So who left this, Slim?”
“It was a woman, Gunny. Sorry. I asked her, but she wouldn’t leave her name, she said you’d know who it was.”
“Six-thirty a.m. That right?” Maybe it wasn’t Francine. She never got up before ten in the morning.
“Yeah, the phone was ringing when I opened up this morning. Anything else? Cluny’s waiting for me to help with that load of copper pipe.”
“Did you ask her to leave a number?”
“Said she was on the move and would call back.”
“Okay, bud. Thanks. Get to that pipe before Cluny blows a gasket.” He clapped Slim on the shoulder, sat heavily in his chair, and stared at the wrinkled scrap of bright pink paper. His ears had been ringing ever since that last battle in Iraq, but the high-pitched squeal now reached deafening volume.
Francine wanted to see “the kid.” No. He’d decided that was not going to happen on his watch. Thanks to his misguided parenting, Amber had a little girl’s fairytale notion about the selfish tramp. He’d done it to protect her, had allowed her to nurture whimsy, hoping the day would never come when he’d have to tell her the truth. His gut cramped.
He’d run out of time.
Chapter Eight
Marla smiled when she saw the results of Saturday night preparations for Dad’s birthday party. Everything had come together like clockwork.
Charlene, Harry, and Barry, with little direction from her, presented a mouthwatering Mexican buffet feast on the back patio. Pork sizzled on the barbecue, filling the mild spring evening air, and the neighborhood, with delicious aromas.
Since all their old neighbors were among the invited guests, they were not tortured by enticing smells. The feast was for the neighbors as well as other family, friends, and business acquaintances of Brad and Silvia.
Marla answered the front doorbell for the tenth time. Okay, it was time to do something about that. She slapped together a makeshift sign directing arriving guests through the side gate leading to the backyard. Then she joined Harry at the beverage table.
“Remember all the great birthday parties we had here when we were kids?” Harry asked.
“How about the backyard camp-outs? Char and I loved to terrorize you boys and your friends with ghost stories in your tent on dark nights. I’m still wondering why the cops never got called when the neighbors heard the blood-curdling screams.” Marla chuckled at the memories. “Holy goats,” she pointed to the latest arrivals. “Do you believe that?”
They watched as Silvia rushed to greet John and Irene Dempsey and threw her arms around Irene like a long-lost friend. John stood by, bemused at her turnabout.
“Beats me.” Harry poured a Coke for a young lady who’d sidled up to the table. He rewarded her with a dazzling smile.
Her heart went out to the poor girl. Twenty-year-old Harry was well out of her reach, if she harbored any romantic notions.
Marla touched her shoulder. “Hello, Renee. My, how you’ve grown. I remember when Charlene and I walked next door to babysit you. What are you now? A junior in high school?”
Crestfallen, Renee sighed and said, “I’ll be a senior in September. I’m seventeen and a half.” She cast a hopeful, moon-eyed glance at Harry, who’d turned away to serve another guest.
“Well, you have a good time tonight. We’ve got some fun things planned for the younger crowd.”
The baleful glance Renee threw over her shoulder told Marla she didn’t consider herself one of the kids interested in games.
Charlene waved Marla over to the food buffet. She sighed and placed a hand on her chest. “Oh, lord. Did you see who came in with Dylan and Grace and their kids?” She pointed to the back corner of the lawn where Donovan Dempsey, sporting a Marine haircut and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, stood talking to Renee’s father. The shirt, snug on his broad chest, emphasized his shoulders to perfection.
“Oh, I see Donovan got leave. Dylan told me he was stationed at Camp Pendleton and would try to get here tonight.” She pursed her lips and made a low whistle. “He looks like a real lady-killer, doesn’t he?”
“That’s Donovan Dempsey?” Charlene gaped. “In that case, I aim to get killed. The last time I saw him, he was skinny and zit-faced. How old is he?” She patted her chest and swooned with drama.
“Hmm, let me think. Dylan is thirty-three and Dwayne is thirty-one, so Donovan must be about twenty-nine. No question, he turned out to be the best looking one of the Dempsey boys.”
“Is he married?” Charlene tugged at the hem of her tank top, exposing more cleavage, and fluffed her hair. “He was engaged the last I heard.”
“No, Dylan said his girlfriend walked away while Donovan was on deployment.”
“She must be nuts. Stay here. I’m going re-introduce myself to him.”
Before she could protest, Charlene was halfway across the yard, hips swaying as she pranced in high wedge sandals. Marla had the urge to yell, Donovan! Incoming! Char has you in her sights!
“Marla!” Amber ran to her. “Where’s Skipper?”
“Hi there, girlfriend. Skipper stayed home tonight. There are too many people here and the gate would be opening and closing all evening. I was afraid he’d get stepped on or get out of the yard.”
Amber’s face fell, her stricken look almost comical. “I love Skippy. I wanted to see him.”
Marla leaned down and lifted her chin. “Tell you what. I’m taking him to the dog park tomorrow. Would you like to go with us?”
Eyes bright, a big smile bloomed on
