Page 13 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

Oh, crap! He did not want to delve into that old history. Especially . . . Oh, what the hell! “I have a brother, Ben, who’s about thirty-seven now. Two years older than me.” For a second, his chest hurt, like his heart was being squeezed, just thinking about his brother, whom he hadn’t seen or spoken to in five years, ever since the last big blowup with his parents. Ben, who was doing research in biophysics at Johns Hopkins last time he’d heard, something to do with brain injuries following head trauma, had sided with his parents against him.

“You’re thirty-five?” she asked, homing in on the least important part of what he’d said, or thought. “You don’t look any older than twenty-five.”

“The bane of my life,” he said, forcing a grin. “I’ve always had a baby face, which was a good and a bad thing. I got away with murder because of my seeming innocence, but I got carded until I was thirty, which was embarrassing and a pain in the ass. Eventually, I grew into my face. At least, I hope I did. I’d hate to look like a teenager when I’m seventy with white hair and wrinkles.”

“Women would envy you. I envy you.”

“For looking young. Pff! If you looked any better, the female population of three states would put a hit out on you.”

She stiffened up, like always when he made some comment about her appearance.

So he changed the subject. “Do you have any family around?”

“In Atlantic City?” she asked, then went on before he could elaborate. “My grandmother is still there. She raised me after my mother got killed by a drunk driver when I was only five.”

He was about to ask about her father, or any other family, but she stood and said, “Thank you so much, Merrill, for bringing the check over here today. Please know how much I appreciate your consideration.”

He didn’t know about consideration so much as his own pleasure. “You don’t need to thank me. I expect to be paid back.”

“That’s not what I meant. You bringing the check here this morning knowing I need the money right away . . . it speaks to your sensitivity.”

“That is just what a guy needs to hear. That he has a sensitive side. Next you’ll be mentioning my inner female.”

She asked him the strangest thing then. “When you were in the military, did you ever shave your head?”

“Yeah. When we did survival training in a jungle setting, with all the bugs and crap, being hairless was a lot more comfortable. Why? Do you have a thing for baldies?”

“No.”

“That’s good because, instead of looking like a hot Dwayne Johnson, ‘The Rock,’ I look like Humpty Dumpty before the fall.”

“I doubt that sincerely,” she said. “On your worst day, you are about a hundred on the hottie meter, hairless or not.”

Which just about made his day—or year.

Chapter 4

The Welcome Wagon was unwelcome . . .

People were being nice to her.

Dammit!

Too nice.

Dammit!

Even when she was borderline rude to them, they persisted in being neighborly. In other words, nice.

Dammit!

Delilah needed to maintain her privacy if she wanted to hide her sordid past. Niceness led to neighborliness, which led to friendships, which led to confidences, which led to open books.

What would all these people think if they knew her open book—the real Delilah Jones? Convicted felon. Unwed mother. No education except for a prison GED. Granddaughter of a gambling grandmother. Trailer park trash without the trailer.

Oh, her secrets would come out eventually, she supposed. At least some of them. Maggie, for example, would be coming here next month. Delilah wasn’t ashamed of having a child. Not one bit. But she didn’t want to reveal that her baby had been born in a prison clinic where she’d been badgered by officials to give her up for adoption, something she’d adamantly refused, finally signing over guardianship to her grandmother. That decision had not endeared her to some prison sadists who’d undoubtedly had potential adopters in line, for a fat fee.

If there was anything she’d learned in prison, it was to trust no one. People would be all nicey-nice and friendly and helpful, and before you knew it, you were being turned in to authorities by them for some minor transgression. Or they would be expecting some favor in return for their niceness. Everyone was out for themselves.