“Always has been bad to the bone.”

Levi’s caressed his firm thighs, cupped his crotch, and covered his long legs in soft denim. The warm breeze flattened his shirt against his broad muscular chest. Delaney lifted her gaze to his face again. Slowly he removed the sunglasses from the bridge of his straight nose and shoved them into the front pocket of his T-shirt. His light gray eyes stared directly back at her.

Delaney’s heart stopped and her bones fused. She recognized those eyes burning a hole in her. They were the exact copy of his Irish father’s but much more startling because they were set in a face typical of his Basque heritage.

Nick Allegrezza, the source of her girlhood fascinations and the origin of her disillusions. Nick, the slick-talking, smooth-tongued snake. He stood with his weight on one foot as if he didn’t notice the stir he’d caused. More than likely he did notice and simply didn’t care. Delaney had been gone ten years, but some things obviously hadn’t changed. Nick had filled out and his features had matured, but his presence still attracted attention.

Reverend Tippet bowed his head. “Let us pray for Henry Shaw,” he began. Delaney tucked her chin and closed her eyes. Even as a child, Nick had attracted more than his share of attention. His older brother Louie had been wild too, but Louie had never been as wild as Nick. Everyone knew the Allegrezza brothers were crazy, impulsive Bascos, quick-fingered and as horny as parolees.

Every girl in town had been warned to stay far away from the brothers, but like lemmings to the sea, many had succumbed to the call of the wild and thrown themselves at “those Basque boys.” Nick had earned the added reputation for charming virgins out of their undies. But he hadn’t charmed Delaney. Contrary to popular belief, she hadn’t knocked boots with Nick Allegrezza. He hadn’t taken her virginity.

Not technically anyway.

“Amen,” the mourners recited as one.

“Yeah. Amen,” Delaney uttered, feeling a bit guilty for her irreverent thoughts during a prayer to God. She glanced over the top of her sunglasses, and her eyes narrowed. She watched Nick’s lips move as he made a quick sign of the cross. He was Catholic of course, like the other Basque families in the area. Still, it seemed sacrilegious to see such an overtly sexual, long-haired, earring-wearing biker cross himself as if he were a priest. Then as if he had all day, he lifted his gaze up the front of Delaney’s suit to her face. For an instant, something flickered in his eyes, but just as quickly it was gone, and his attention was drawn to a blond woman in a pink slip dress by his side. She raised on her toes and whispered something into his ear.

Mourners crowded around Delaney and her mother, stopping to give their condolences before moving toward their cars. She lost sight of Nick and turned to people passing in front of her. She recognized most of Henry’s friends, who paused to speak to her, but saw very few faces under the age of fifty. She smiled and nodded and shook hands, hating every minute of their close scrutiny. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to be by herself so she could think about Henry and the good times. She wanted to remember Henry before they’d disappointed each other so terribly. But she knew she wouldn’t get the opportunity until much later. She was emotionally exhausted, and by the time she and her mother made their way to the limousine that would take them back home, she wanted nothing more than to hibernate.

The rumble of Nick’s Harley drew her attention and she glanced over her shoulder at him. He revved the engine twice then flipped a U and gunned the big bike. Delaney’s brows lowered as she watch him shoot past, her eyes focused on the blond pressed against his back like a human suction cup. He’d picked up a woman at Henry’s funeral, picked her up as if he were out trolling bars. Delaney didn’t recognize her, but she wasn’t really surprised to see a woman leaving the funeral with Nick. Nothing was sacred to him. Nothing off limits.

She climbed into the limousine and sank into plush velvet seats. Henry was dead, but nothing had changed.

“That was a real nice service, don’t you think?”

Gwen asked, interrupting Delaney’s thoughts as the car pulled away from the gravesite and headed toward Highway 55.

Delaney kept her gaze on the blue flashes of Lake Mary barely visible through dense pine forest. “Yes,” she answered, then turned her attention to her mother. “It was real nice.”

“Henry loved you. He just didn’t know how to compromise.”

They’d had this same discussion many times, and Delaney didn’t feel like talking about it. The conversation always began and ended the same, yet nothing ever got resolved. “How many people do you think will show up?” she asked, referring to the after-funeral buffet.

“Most everyone, I imagine.” Gwen reached across the distance that separated them and pushed the sides of Delaney’s hair behind her ears.

Delaney half expected her mother to wet her fingers and make spit curls on her forehead as she’d done when Delaney had been a child. She’d hated it then, and she hated it now. The constant fixing, as if she wasn’t good enough the way she was. The constant fussing, as if she could be made into something she wasn’t.

No. Nothing had changed.

“I’m so glad you’re home, Laney.”

Delaney felt suffocated and pressed the electric window switch. She breathed in the fresh mountain air and let it out slowly. Two days, she told herself. She could go home in two days.

Last week, she’d received notification that she was named in Henry’s will. After the way they’d parted, she couldn’t imagine why he’d included her. She wondered if he’d included Nick, too, or if he would ignore his son, even after his death.

Briefly she wondered if Henry had left her money or property. More than likely it was some kind of a gag gift, like an old rusted fishing boat or a stuffed mackinaw. Whatever it was didn’t matter, she was leaving directly after the will was read. Now all she had to do was gather the courage to tell her mother. Maybe she’d call her from a pay phone somewhere around Salt Lake City. Until then, she planned to look up some of her old girlfriends, hit a few local bars, and wait it out until she could head home to the big city where she could breathe. She knew if she stayed more than a few days, she’d lose her mind-or worse, herself.


“Well, look who’s back.”

Delaney set a plate of stuffed mushrooms on the buffet table then looked into the eyes of her childhood adversary, Helen Schnupp. Growing up, Helen had been a thorn in Delaney’s side, a rock in her shoe, and a colossal pain in the ass. Every time Delaney had turned around, Helen had been there, usually one step ahead. Helen had been prettier, faster in track, and better in basketball. In the second grade Helen had unseated her for first place in the county spelling bee. In the eighth grade Helen had beaten her out for head cheerleader, and in the eleventh she’d been caught at the drive-in with Delaney’s boyfriend, Tommy Markham, riding the bologna pony in the back of the Markham family station wagon. A girl didn’t forget a thing like that, and Delaney took silent pleasure in Helen’s split ends and over processed highlights.

“Helen Schnupp,” she said, hating to admit to herself that except for the hair, her old nemesis was still pretty.

“It’s Markham now.” Helen grabbed a croissant and stuffed it with sliced ham. “Tommy and I have been happily married for seven years.”

Delaney forced a smile. “Isn’t that just great?” She told herself she didn’t give a damn about either one of them, but she’d always entertained the fantasy of a Bonnie and Clyde style ending for Helen and Tommy. The fact that she still harbored such animosity didn’t bother her as much as she thought it probably should. Maybe it was time for that psychotherapy she’d been putting off.

“Are you married?”

“No.”

Helen gave her a look filled with pity. “Your mother tells me you live in Scottsdale.”

Delaney fought an urge to shove Helen’s croissant up her nose. “I live in Phoenix.”

“Oh?” Helen reached for a mushroom and scooted down the line. “I must not have heard her right.”

Delaney doubted there was anything wrong with Helen’s hearing. Her hair was another matter, however, and if Delaney hadn’t already planned to leave in a few days, and if she were a nicer person, she might have offered to snip some of the damage. She might have even slapped a protein pack on Helen’s frizzy hair and wrapped her whole head in cellophane. But she wasn’t that nice.

Her gaze scanned the dining room filled with people until she located her mother. Surrounded by friends, every blond hair in perfect order, her makeup flawless, Gwen Shaw looked like a queen holding court. Gwen had always been the Grace Kelly of Truly, Idaho. She even resembled her somewhat. At forty-four, she could pass for thirty-nine and, as she was fond of saying, looked much too young to have a daughter who was twenty-nine.

Anywhere else, a fifteen-year age difference between mother and daughter might have raised more than a few brows, but in small-town Idaho, it wasn’t uncommon for high school sweethearts to marry the day after graduation, sometimes because the bride was about to go into labor. No one thought anything of teenage pregnancy, unless of course the teen wasn’t married. That sort of scandal fueled the gossip fires for years.

Everyone in Truly believed the mayor’s young wife had been widowed shortly after she’d married Delaney’s biological father, but it was all a lie. At fifteen, Gwen had been involved with a married man, and when he’d found out she was pregnant, he dumped her and she left town.

“I see you came back. I thought you might be dead.”