The Heartbreaker Read online

  “That depends on whether you can smoke this sucker. Knowing you, you could sweet-talk the nurses into bringing you a real one.” Mike examined the cigar.

  “Aw, it’s just rubbe, Mike. But I’m so used to having somethin’ between my teeth that it feels good.” He chuckled. “Really got you going, though, didn’t I?”

  Mike sighed with relief as he glanced at his father. “If this had been the real thing, I was ready to wring your neck and save the doctors all the trouble they’re taking to keep you alive.”

  “Just what I figured. Now you’re gonna become the gestapo, keeping track of everything I do.”

  “You’ve got that right.” He handed the cigar back to Ernie and pulled up a chair. “And when I’m not around, Beth’s going to take over.”

  “Now if that ain’t gonna be a royal pain in the butt, having you two fuss over me.”

  “You asked for it, landing yourself in this mess. You’ll get no sympathy from me, Dad. If necessary, I’ll bring in my shaman friend from Brazil.”

  “Humph. Next thing I know, you’ll want me wearing that there tooth of yours.”

  “Not a bad idea.” Mike started to take off the leather thong.

  “Nope. You keep it. I ain’t wearing no tooth at my age.” Ernie stuck the cigar in his mouth again. “How’d t go last night with Beth? You two hash things out okay?” His question sounded casual, but his glance was like a laser.

  “Sure. Everything’s fine.”

  Ernie made a grab for his cigar as it tumbled from his suddenly slack jaw. “Fine, did you say?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “For one thing, because you two haven’t said so much as howdy to one another since that night you cut out.”

  Mike was determined to keep the conversation light. Ernie didn’t need to worry about the depth of his problems with Beth and Alana. “People lose track of each other.”

  “This ain’t been a case of losing track, and you know it. This has been more like noticing what track the other one’s on—” he waved the cigar to the right “—and taking a track in the opposite direction.” He swept the cigar to the left, then studied it. “Couldn’t talk so good without my cigar, neither.” He replaced the cigar between his teeth.

  “Well, maybe we had a few problems connected with what happened, but that’s all in the past. Everything’s going to be fine, now.”

  “You got cold feet, is all. Didn’t surprise me none. You weren’t ready to get married. Like I’ve told you a hundred times, you should’ve explained that to Alana somewhere along the line. She wouldn’t like it, but I’ll bet the three of you could’ve patched things up. It’s a crying shame, after all those years you kids played together, that you’re not speakin’ to one another.”

  Mike rolled his shoulders and stifled a yawn as he leaned back in the chair. “You’re right, Dad. And I plan to talk things over with Alana, too. You’ll see. The whole thing will be taken care of.”

  “That’s good, Mike. Pete’ll be glad to hear it.”

  Mike sat up straighter. “Did you say will be glad to hear it?” Ernie seemed totally alert, but maybe the drugs were affecting his mind, after all.

  Ernie gave him a long look and chewed on his cigar. “Naw. You must’ve heard me wrong. I said Pete would’ve been glad to hear it.”

  “That’s a relief. For a minute there I thought you’d started talking to ghosts.”

  “Not me. If I started doin’ that they’d give me a rubber room instead of a rubber cigar.” He shifted the fake stogie to the other corner of his mouth. “So Beth promised to give Huxford the boot?”

  “Yep.” It was close enough to the truth. Huxford would probably go back to Chicago if he couldn’t expect any more action on the deal, for another two weeks.

  “And you’re gonna make the cutters.”

  “Yep.”

  “Can you do it?”

  Mike laughed. “This is a fine time to ask me that.”

  “Well, if you’re the least bit shaky on it, I’ll talk you through. If you remember anything of what I taught you, it’ll be duck soup. You had good hands for it, as I recollect.”

  “Thanks. Exactly what I told Beth. And speaking of her, you can do something for me. Tell her I’m a good machinist the next time she comes in to see you, okay? She’s not totally convinced I’m a fair hand with the equipment, even though I told her I picked up some jobs in Brazil, so I’m not even out of practice.”

  “She’ll be okay once you start making them cutters. Beth’s the kind you have to prove yourself to. Words don’t do nothing for her.”

  “Yeah, I know. I remember the time I almost killed myself jumping the steps of the old brewery on my bike, just to prove to Beth I could do it.”

  Ernie nodded. “That took about eight stitches to fix. And don’t forget that idiotic skateboarding stunt down Tombstone Canyon Road, and the day you climbed the fence into the old mining pit. Showin’ off for Beth was a regular stupidity of yours.”

  And so it had been, he realized now. He’d never risked his neck to impress Alana, which was strange considering she’d always claimed he was her boyfriend, and he’d always believed it was true. From the time they were six years old she’d appropriated him, and being a guy with other things on his mind like baseball and cars, he’d just followed the path of least resistance. Then somewhere around tenth grade he’d developed an honest-to-goodness crush on Alana, and that had settled things for good. They’d planned to get married, save their money and go to the jungles of South America together.

  “What happened to your lip?”

  Mike was jerked out of his reminiscent fog and had to scramble for an explanation. He could feel heat climbing up from his collar. “I, uh, hit it on the corner of the medicine cabinet door.”

  Ernie gazed at him and shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth. “Is that so? Would that be the top corner or the bottom corner?”.

  “It—”

  “I’m only askin’ because if it was the bottom corner, you must’ve been bent over like a pretzel at the sink, and if it was the top corner, you must’ve been standin’ on a box. Either way I’m having trouble picturing this accident.”

  “Maybe it would be best if we didn’t discuss my lip, Dad.”

  “Looks like somebody bit you, Mike.”

  “I—”

  “Time to draw some blood, Mr. Tremayne,” said the nurse who bustled into the room.

  Mike had never been so glad to see a member of the medical profession in his life. He pushed himself out of the chair. “I’d better get going. I’m supposed to meet Beth at noon at the shop.”

  Ernie grinned. “Want the nurse to take a look at that lip before you go?”

  “Never mind.” He glared at his father. “I want to get a good start on those cutters, so I won’t be back in the morning, but I’ll swing by tomorrow night.”

  “Beth said she’d come then, too. Why don’t you drive up together and save the gas?”

  “I don’t know. She’s pretty busy, so she might not be able to leave the same time I do.”

  “Her being too busy to drive up with you wouldn’t have anything to do with the condition of your lip, would it?”

  “Goodbye, Dad.” He headed into the hallway followed by his father’s dry chuckle.

  ONCE THE NURSE was finished, Ernie settled in for a little doze. But first he had a report to make. “Well, Pete, I got good news and I got bad news.”

  If this is going to be that old joke about the buffalo chips, I don’t want to hear it. That joke’s got cobwebs a yard long.

  “It’s sort of a joke, but not about buffalo chips. Mike and Beth are talkin’ to each other again. In fact, there’s evidence they got a little chummier than just talkin’.”

  What kind of evidence?

  “Unless I miss my guess, Mike kissed her. Then she bit him.”

  Beth? You must be talking about Alana. Beth hates violence.

  “It wasn’t Alana. She’s o
n a trip right now. And Mike couldn’t have rounded up some other woman to kiss that fast. Nope, Beth was the biter, Mike was the bitee.”

  Mike and Beth? Are you telling me that Theory C is correct, after all?

  “That’s where I’m putting my money.”

  Alana’s not going to like this.

  “I know, dammit. I hafta get out of this hospital bed so I can run interference.”

  But if you get out of the hospital bed, Mike will think he’s not needed and take off for the Amazon again.

  “You’re right. But if somebody doesn’t keep an eye on those kids, they’ll screw things up again. We already have an injury.”

  If I know you, you’ll think of something.

  “I’ll tell you this much, Pete. I’d think better if I had a real cigar instead of this damn rubber one.”

  BETH CLOSED UP the studio at ten minutes before noon. Business hadn’t been very good so far that day, but then summers were traditionally slow, and she usually ended up in debt. Selling the cutters was designed to fix the seasonal slump problem, among others. If sales took off, her income wouldn’t depend on her selling stained glass. She could eliminate the exhausting production of small sun-catchers that satisfied the tourist trade and concentrate on big installations that challenged her creativity.

  She walked through a narrow side street to the public parking lot where she kept her truck. Ernie’s shop was located in Warren, a small community adjacent to Bisbee, and it was too far to walk. As kids she, Mike and Alana had ridden there on their bikes many times, but Beth hadn’t been on a bike in years.

  A bike ride might have been more comfortable, she thought as she unlocked the truck. A hot morning after the night’s downpour had left Bisbee steaming, and the cab was like an oven, even after she rolled down the windows and opened the vents. Although the truck’s air conditioner had died the previous summer, she hadn’t gotten it fixed because she was pumping all her spare money into the cutter project.

  By the time she arrived at Tremayne’s metal shop, she felt as if she’d just spent fifteen minutes in a sauna. Rummaging in the glove compartment, she found a scrunchy and enough hairpins to secure her damp, unruly hair on top of her head.

  Mike had driven his dad’s old truck to the shop, Beth noticed. She opened the front door and stepped into the air-conditioned interior with a sigh of relief. Mike wasn’t out in the customer area. She called his name as she rounded the counter and headed into the rear of the building.

  She found him sitting at his dad’s bench, his back to her. Something about the set of his shoulders told her to go slow. “Mike, it’s me.”

  He didn’t turn around. “I’ve never been in this place when he wasn’t here.”

  “Oh, Mike.” Instinct overrode caution as she went to him and put her hands on his shoulders. He shuddered beneath her touch, and she knew his grief was very close to the surface. “I know,” she murmured. “I’d never been in the studio without Dad being there, either. It’s a shock, the first time.”

  “I’ve been such a fool, Beth. I thought he’d go on forever.”

  She massaged his shoulders gently. Touching him felt so sinfully right. “He’s made it through this crisis,” she said. “He’s got a lot of years left, Mike. He’s tough.”

  “I know he’s tough, but I’ve lost that fantasy that he’ll always be there. This has forced me to face something I haven’t wanted to think about. Someday he’ll be gone...and he’s all I’ve got.”

  “All? What about the time you’ve spent in Brazil? Surely you’ve made friends who are important to you.”

  “A few.” He allowed his head to fall forward as he absorbed the massage. “I’m even an honorary member of a tribe.”

  “The ones that live like children, with no worries?”

  “Yeah. They’re terrific people, and I care what happens to them, but I don’t really belong there. I’m still a vagabond in Brazil, a rolling stone that gathers no moss, and all that crap.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  He sighed. “It’s what I thought I wanted. But when I heard from Dad’s doctor, when I really understood how close he came to dying, everything shifted. My whole perspective changed.”

  She continued to knead his shoulders. “Hey, don’t go off the deep end. You always wanted a life of adventure. I hope you’re not letting this throw you so much that you’re considering a career as a machinist in Bisbee. That just wouldn’t be you.”

  “I’m not so sure about that”

  She felt a moment of panic. Mike was the keeper of the flame. As long as he sought adventure, then she could dream of one day doing the same. But if he gave up, what chance did she have? “This is an emotional time for you. Believe me, I know how it feels. You want to crawl into the nearest cave and surround yourself with all the things that make you feel safe. But eventually you start to heal, and safety isn’t as important anymore. Don’t tie yourself down to something that will become a straitjacket later, Mike.”

  “You’re making a lot of sense. But then, you always did.”

  She decided a distraction might be just what he needed right now. She gave him a final squeeze and released her hold. “Ready to discuss the cutter design?”

  “Sure.” He stood and came over to the demonstration light table Ernie had set up. “I figured out this must be it.”

  “Your dad thought we should have a cutter set up and operational, so either one of us could demonstrate it.”

  “So demonstrate.”

  “Better than that, I’ll let you use it. It’ll probably help while you’re working on the cutters, if you know exactly what they’re supposed to do.” She glanced around the tidy shop. “I think he kept some glass somewhere.”

  “Yeah, I saw it. Just a minute.” Mike walked over to a cabinet and came back with a notebook-size piece of cobalt glass. “Will this do?”

  “Perfect. We’ll need some sort of pattern.” She grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and drew a heart. Instantly she regretted her choice of shapes, but Mike had already come up beside her, and making a big deal about the design would be worse than just using it. She positioned the heart outline on the light table, switched on the lamp underneath and put the blue glass over the drawing. Then she adjusted the jointed metal arm clamped to the table so the cutting wheel was over the glass.

  “Go ahead and try it.” She stepped back and motioned him toward the table. “You’re going to be amazed at how easy a two-handed wheel makes the, whole process.”

  “Okay, what do I do?”

  “Grip the handles like this.” After months of demonstrating the cutter, she automatically reached around him and covered his hands with hers. Belatedly she realized how cozy the position was, and how unsettling. “Now position the wheel where you want to start your cut,” she continued, “and apply pressure as you guide it around the lines.”

  “How much pressure?”

  She tried to keep her breasts from brushing his back but it was nearly impossible. She forced herself to concentrate on the cutter and pretend she was demonstrating it for a stranger—better yet, an elderly lady with false teeth and arch supports. “Listen for a scratching sound. That means you’re scoring the glass. You’ve done this before. You’ll know when it’s working.” His hands beneath hers weren’t the hands of an elderly lady. Instead she felt strong tendons and the sensuous tickle of hair against her palms. The tangy scent of his aftershave filled her with images of snuggling against him and lifting her mouth for his kiss. This had been a very bad idea.

  She gritted her teeth and watched the wheel bite into the cobalt glass. “That’s it. Now, steer around the curve. Good. I’m letting go, now.” She backed away with a barely audible sigh of relief and put a hand over her pounding heart. “Keep that same pressure as you finish the outline. There. Excellent.”

  He released the cutter handles and picked up the glass. It broke away cleanly on the score lines into a perfect heart shape. “Amazing. I can see what Dad’s ta
lking about. You could manage this with no training at all. Even kids could do it.”

  Gradually her pulse regained its normal rhythm. “My father came up with the idea after he struggled through teaching a class at a retirement home using the old-style cutter. But he...died before he and Ernie could market it.” She still couldn’t say that without a sharp stab of regret.

  Mike turned to face her, his expression tender. “That’s the other reason my dad wants this to be a success, isn’t it? As a tribute to Pete.”

  “That’s—” She paused to clear her throat. “That’s one of the reasons I want it to be a success, too.”

  “He was a great guy,” Mike said softly.

  She couldn’t stop the flood of pain. “Then why didn’t you come home when he died, Mike? He was like a father to you!”

  He flinched as if she’d slapped him. Then he took a deep breath. “Within an hour of the time I heard about your dad, I had an airline ticket in my hand. But then, while I was sitting at the gate I thought about it and finally figured you and Alana had enough to deal with, without having me around. I called Dad back, and he said he was holding up okay, so in the interests of keeping the peace, I tore up the ticket. If it’s any consolation, I wish I hadn’t. I shouldn’t have left my father alone at a time like that, no matter what the consequences to you and Alana.”

  She was stunned. “You put aside your own grief because you thought we wouldn’t want to see you?”

  “My grief wasn’t important. But I should have been here for my dad.”

  “How can you say your grief wasn’t important?”

  He shrugged. “I’m a guy. I’m supposed to be tough about those things, right?”

  “And were you tough?”

  He looked away. The jaguar tooth around his neck quivered as he swallowed a lump of emotion.

  Pain squeezed her heart as she pictured him leaving the airline terminal and going back to some impersonal room where he’d undoubtedly wept alone for the man who’d helped raise him. “Oh, Mike.” She slipped her arms around him and laid her cheek on his chest. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, holding him gently.