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  Taking her time, Rachel wrapped a towel around her hair, moisturized her face, and entered the bedroom. In the closet was a stack of “home-clothes,” and Rachel selected a faded blue sweatsuit.

  She was just tying the strings of the pants when Jada burst into the room, waving an envelope. “It’s from Mallory. She must have mailed it just before she died…the postmark is from out of town. It’s for you,” she exclaimed breathlessly. “We didn’t get the mail today, so I just went to the mailbox. I was just opening the sympathy cards, you know, trying to keep anything unpleasant from Mom—say Wussie-boy’s letter because she knows that upsets me—I didn’t tell Mom, because she looks ready to crumble and because Mallory could have put anything into that letter…she was pretty—unstable—at the end, and Mom just can’t take any more right now, and because—Open it, Rachel!”

  Rachel held the envelope tightly, then forced herself to sit on the bed, staring at it. Why had Mallory written to her?

  Her fingers shook as she opened the two-page letter, in Mallory’s distinctive, big loopy script, written on lined yellow tablet paper. “Hi, Kiddo. I’m already missing you and Jada and Mom. If I had any good going for me, it was you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be more. Well, that’s enough of that and life goes on, or it doesn’t. That’s what I told you once, wasn’t it? Don’t ever look back, Rachel. What happened to you wasn’t your fault. You’re the best person I know.”

  Rachel inhaled and swallowed the emotion tightening her throat before reading on: “I’m going to ask a big favor of you. I worked damn hard to get Nine Balls up and running. I’ve paid big prices. But it just can’t be for nothing, not the way the kids love coming here, kids like me who need to be kept off the streets. Your mom gave me something special by teaching me about love and how to play pool, and I want to give it back. I guess that’s about it. By the way, with me out of the picture Nine Balls is officially yours and the bank’s. See if you can keep it running until you find someone who wants it and should have it. If you could just manage it meanwhile, I’d appreciate it. Don’t let anything happen to Nine Balls, will you, please, Rachel? It’s the only good thing I’ve done in my life. Call Terri Samson, my lawyer, when you can. I know you don’t like Kyle, but try to understand that he was my friend, and maybe try to repay him a little for his kindnesses since I can’t, will you? And give Mom and Jada a hug for me. Later, Mallory.”

  “What did she say, Rachel?” Jada’s arm had been around Rachel as she read the letter.

  Rachel carefully folded the last letter Mallory wrote and eased it into the envelope. She pressed it to her heart where she would keep Mallory forever.

  “I guess I’m the owner of Nine Balls now,” she whispered unevenly.

  Four

  JUST A MONTH AFTER MALLORY’S DEATH, KYLE SCANLON leaned back in his office chair and propped his feet on his desk. He glanced outside into the late April sunlight to the board fence where Mallory’s daffodils had bloomed and listened to the woman on the telephone. Kyle had been listening very carefully to Jada, waiting to catch any tidbit about Rachel. Gossip had been running like wildfire through Neptune’s Landing that Jada’s sister, Rachel, was moving back to town and that she was the new owner of Nine Balls.

  But Jada’s cheerful chatter ran to that of Wussie-boy’s damaging credit affecting hers and her spring-cleaning woes, her clients wanting more than the usual.

  “Every client I have is on a cleaning rampage and I ache from my butt to my shoulders. Mrs. Johnson over on Pearl Street? She wants her bottom cupboards relined, so I squatted all day…had to lay on the floor to reach to the far back corners.”

  “Life is rough. But I bet you looked cute, all laid out like that,” Kyle teased. “So what else are you doing with your life, except cleaning?”

  “I’m planning my ice cream route…. I’d like to let Shane Templeton catch me. He’s such a hunk. Mallory had a thing for him once, you know…. But, unless I can make Shane come across and make me the local minister’s wife and the mother of his future children, you’re still on the top of my sperm donor list, okay?” she asked.

  He smiled slightly and answered, “Sure. In four years, if your mother-motor is still humming, I’ll do my best to fill the cup. So Rachel is back to sharing your bedroom at your mother’s?”

  “Yeah, we picked her up from the airport this morning and her things are being shipped. Mom is happy to have us all together again. Like most of us, she’s wondering where she went wrong and what she should have done for Mallory, so Rachel coming home now eases her a bit. Rachel isn’t bringing much. She’s going to invest everything she has into building Mallory’s billiards parlor back up into what it was. That’s going to take some work. There were a few bad scenes there at the last and now people are wary.”

  Jada sneezed several times and swallowed something before continuing, “I hate cats. The Michaelsons have three long-haired monsters and their fur is everywhere. Rachel brought her cat, Harry. I’m allergic to him and he loves me…he’s all over me. Shoo! Go away! Get!”

  Kyle smiled at the sound of something hitting a wall and a hiss that sounded like Harry didn’t like that play before Jada said, “Nine Balls is the only place that is upscale and suitable for women who really want to play and for children to learn the game. The rest of the places with tables are taverns. There are some buyers already lined up for it, if Rachel wants to sell—but knowing her, come hell or high water, she’s going to get the whole place back up on its feet. She’s going to get those women back, the ones who liked to come to Mallory’s to let off a little marital steam and have some time out from kids and husbands and housework. She wants to get the teens programs up and running—the parents wouldn’t let them come when Mallory was so—volatile at the end. I’d make a good minister’s wife, don’t you think? I mean why the hell not? Am I not sexy, or what?”

  Kyle’s smile widened. Fast moving, fast talking, Jada couldn’t be put into the mold that straight-necked Shane Templeton would expect. Meanwhile, the church was getting free cleaning at the parsonage and Shane wasn’t complaining. The minister wasn’t on Kyle’s “friends” list. A regular secret visitor at Mallory’s before her decline in the last two years, Shane had deserted Mallory when she needed him most—but then he couldn’t afford to openly acknowledge a relationship with a tramp, could he?

  “So how is Rachel anyway?” Kyle asked to distract Jada from her pursuit of Shane. Kyle had tried to stop Mallory from falling in love with the attractive minister, from dreaming about becoming his wife, and now he was listening to the same thing from Jada. This time, his warning conversation with Shane would be a little stronger and a whole lot more affective….

  “I’m tired…. Shoo! Get off me! Rachel’s ex-boyfriend called while she was having dinner with us and things sounded rough. Rachel wasn’t putting up with Mark’s plans to get her back and she told him off. She just took some food to Mallory’s apartment. She’s needing to work off some excess energy and decided to pack up Mallory’s personal stuff. Hey, by the way, thanks for fixing the ice cream wagon and I’ll try not to ride that clutch as much, but that’s pretty hard when you have to go slow through the neighborhoods. I’ll be over to get it in a couple of days. I’m going to start driving a summer route through town from about four or so until after suppertime, and Saturday evenings. I’ll clean houses in the morning. Gotta go. Bye.”

  Kyle replaced the telephone and took a deep breath. Jada was an information bank about everything, especially about her sister. Through the years, Rachel may have had dates and boyfriends, but she hadn’t married. She’d lived with her fiancé, but as far as Kyle knew, now there wasn’t anyone in her life.

  Her breakup with Mark what’s-his-name had occurred around the time Mallory had borrowed money from Kyle to fly to New York.

  Mallory never went anywhere and the request to borrow money from Kyle to visit Rachel had been a surprise. When Mallory had returned, she was grim, not talking about her trip or Rachel, and was quietly furio
us—it showed in how she played pool, fast, hard shots, pitting herself against the balls as if she hated them.

  Something bad had happened during that trip. What was it?

  Outside, the April night was quiet, and once in a while on the road in front of the garage, a truck would pass—sometimes an eighteen wheeler, but more likely a farmer bringing home feed for his livestock, or taking a cattle truck to the stockyards. The old reconditioned oscillating fan on his desk purred softly, and Pup, sensing that his master was in a brooding mood, came to lay his head on Kyle’s thigh. Automatically Kyle reached for a length of paper towel, folded it, and slid it beneath the dog’s jowls.

  The apartment behind his office was quiet tonight; since Rachel’s attack on him, Patty and Iris had come and gone as they usually did. This time, they were job hunting in Vegas. Their job hunts, financed by him, usually were unsuccessful, and they’d be back, needing a place to stay. He liked having the sound of women around, and the good cooking was a real plus. All he had to do was the laundry and pay the bills.

  Pup’s chocolate brown eyes looked soulfully up at Kyle and he petted the dog’s smooth fur. “She’s got the same shade of brown, but when she’s mad, they’re black. I like that, when they turn black and she’s locked onto me. I get tangled up with Rachel and it would be an all-out war.”

  He’d almost gotten her out of his system, when she’d torn into him a month ago. It had taken her just one month to quit her job and move back to Neptune’s Landing. But then Rachel usually did what she wanted.

  “Dammit, anyway. She doesn’t know one thing about running a pool hall.”

  Pup whined softly, his forehead layered with wrinkles, as he seemed to understand. “Mallory used to say, ‘one thing about Rachel, she always lands on her feet.’ Maybe she will, but life can be pretty boring in a small town. She couldn’t wait to get out of here after high school graduation—went to a big college, made a name for herself, and graduated summa cum laude…landed a New York hot-shot job straight out of college, too.”

  Okay, Kyle admitted reluctantly, he’d always been proud of Rachel.

  For an entire month, he wondered what would have happened if she’d hit him with that cocked fist.

  He would have reacted, of course….

  Maybe that was why he had a hard time keeping his hands off her…because so far as he knew, Rachel was always in control, except in this same office, a month ago. Kyle didn’t trust his own nobility, leaving Miss Perfect undamaged in her perfect life, with her perfect takes on everyone else. Rachel thought he’d ruined Mallory, and maybe he had.

  He scratched Pup’s scarred ears. When Kyle was twenty-two, he decided to move into Neptune’s Landing. At twenty-one, Mallory already knew what it took to please a man. But years before, when he visited the town that first time, she had been eighteen and far ahead of his nineteen years, far too experienced in the backseat of that car….

  Restless with the Scanlons’ rural life and on his way to a small-time race up the coast, Kyle had come into town during the Neptune’s Landing annual summer parade. Mallory had liked his sports car and he was in need of the soothing feel-good a willing woman could give him. After that, when he visited town, she would always be waiting and ready—but his mind was usually on the teenage girl riding the float. Her name was Rachel Everly, and she wore a mermaid outfit, the pink shells cupping her breasts….

  Dreams of those pink shells and the soft flesh beneath them had given him more than a few aches through the years. If Rachel stayed in Neptune’s Landing, and she would, they would certainly meet and clash.

  Rachel had only a surface glimpse of the darkness devouring Mallory’s life. The inside picture was even uglier….

  Someone had owned Mallory, had made her jump to his call, had beat her sometimes, but she hadn’t talked. “Fell down the stairs” and “ran into an open cabinet door” were her usual explanations, but Kyle knew that the bruises were from a man’s hands. Through the years, she just drank a little more, took a few more pills, and became a living ghost of herself.

  Two things kept Mallory going—Nine Balls, the one thing she considered her “baby,” her mark in the world, and now Rachel was the owner; the other thing, the bigger prize in Mallory’s life, was a nine-year-old girl who knew nothing about her.

  Kyle’s job was to keep Rachel from discovering that girl as he had promised Mallory he would do…. Exposing the girl could endanger her, and terrified for her, Mallory had given her away at birth.

  He rubbed his chest where Rachel had planted that unwanted ache, the need to see her again, to see her light up, to see her eyes darken as they had when she’d looked at his chest, the air simmering between them.

  Kyle didn’t look forward to seeing another woman settling into Nine Balls, let alone one as determined as Rachel. Would she be as obsessed with Nine Balls as Mallory had been?

  “That’s a distinct possibility, because Rachel isn’t likely to back down from a few little problems.” Kyle stood up and stretched. Tomorrow he’d bring home a beauty of a classy Chevrolet, a Bel Air ’54. A new breather, a little bit of patching the rough spots and popping out the dents, some sanding and paint and she’d be purring again.

  As he went to the stock room to check his parts inventory, Kyle wondered what it would take to make Rachel purr. “Things are going to get really interesting with her around, Pup,” he said to the boxer following close at his heels. “She’s got a way of stirring things up.”

  Kyle reached for a used but cleaned breather to match the old Chevrolet’s. “She sure did look good in that mermaid outfit….”

  “I don’t want you staying there, Rachel,” Trina said over the telephone. “In the last two years, Mallory had too many—visitors. I couldn’t stop her—”

  “I know, Mom. I’ll lock the door and call you before coming home.” Mallory’s private upstairs quarters bore a sad tale of drugs, alcohol, and sex. After ending the call, Rachel worked feverishly, emptying drawers of slinky teddies and thong panties, and cheap, flashy jewelry. The bathroom’s small plastic trash can was heaped with empty bottles. There were a few legitimate pharmacy bottles, but most bore plain white labels and Mallory’s handwriting.

  The open windows and fans helped take the over-heavy perfume scents from the rooms and into the chilly night air. Moths, drawn by light, fluttered at the screens.

  Rachel tore the black satin sheets and leopard print spread from the round bed, tossed them onto the floor with the jumbled assortment of pillows; she wanted nothing of this Mallory to remain.

  “No wonder you never let me come here, Mallory,” Rachel whispered as she slid aside the big mirrored doors of the closet. A strong cedar scent, sometimes used to keep moths from clothing, swept out at her.

  Mallory’s clothing landed on top of the bedding. Her shoes were neatly ordered, which seemed strange, the boxes stacked perfectly. Sitting on the floor, Rachel opened the boxes. The top boxes were shoes, mostly high strappy heels, which she tossed onto the growing stack. A pair of high heels seemed too large, and Rachel compared one to the others—someone with a bigger, wider foot had worn them. Curious as to the owner, she put that box aside.

  The other boxes held shoes and surprises—a rubber band circled Rachel’s letters, little high school mementoes like the corsage Kyle had given her, a frayed pink ribbon and some teenage jewelry, a tiny worn locket. That box wasn’t neat; it seemed as if it had been riffled by a hurried hand.

  Another box held business papers, copies of big cash deposits mixed with her pay stubs as a waitress and barmaid. Rachel studied the paperwork and could find nothing but big cash deposits that gradually amounted to the first sizeable “down” money on Nine Balls. Everyone in Neptune’s Landing suspected that Bob Winters had helped finance Mallory’s purchase of Nine Balls and he’d never denied it.

  Rachel carefully folded the papers and placed them into their rubber bands.

  Dislodged by her rummaging, purses and folded clothing tumbled down from the c
loset’s shelf. A cedar board ran from the shelf to the ceiling, held in place by heavier blocks on either end. Rachel noted the nails in the blocks at one end of the shelf, and the absence of nails in the other. But slight gouge marks were on this block. Rachel drew up a chair and using a sturdy metal envelope opener, she gently pried at the wood.

  It came free and when Rachel lifted it away, there was another box, standing on end. She eased it out and opened the tightly sealed plastic lid. Inside was a neatly arranged, obviously cherished, collection of scrap-booking materials—special design scissors, ribbons, pens, colored paper.

  Beneath them was a thick scrapbook.

  Rachel held her breath, her heart racing as she opened the scrapbook to find collages of the Everly family pictures, and Mallory’s careful notes, love wrapped into every word. In contrast, there were no pictures of Rachel, Trina, or Jada anywhere else in the apartment. Rachel held the scrapbook to her chest. “This is the heart of you, isn’t it, Mallory? What you really were? What you loved so deeply that you didn’t want anyone to know? Why?”

  The other pages contained a vivid collection of Mallory’s dedication to Nine Balls, to the youth who came to play there, to the women evidently enjoying themselves while competing. “Oh, Mallory. You were so wonderful. Why didn’t you believe that?”

  For some reason, Mallory had hidden the loves of her life, wanting to keep them apart and safe. Rachel carefully replaced the scrapbook and eased the box back into the closet. “See you later, Mallory.”

  She could almost hear young Mallory return, “Later. Keep safe.”

  The apartment was too quiet and Rachel held very still, listening, waiting for Mallory to speak. “I promised I’d do my best, Mallory.”

  At the windows, the fringes of the heavy maroon damask curtains moved eerily. “Mallory?”

  Rachel let the slight nuances curl around her. “I feel you, Mallory. You’re still here, aren’t you? You’re waiting, aren’t you? For me? For me, Mallory? What do you want from me? Why did you choose me to inherit everything?”