Family Bonds

Chapter 2, Episode 1

Chet rubbed Frannie's neck. "Did you see that girl on the steps? She looked familiar."

"Jane Collins. Little Miss Mousy, we called her. Hardly ever said a word in class. Why do you care?"

"Just curious. In our class?"

"A year behind us. Her mom died last year."

"Hmm." Chet debated going back to see if Jane was still waiting for a cab after he dropped off Frannie. When the redhead kissed him and skimmed her fingers across his chest, he brushed her hand away. "Not while I'm driving. Can't you wait till we get to your place?"

Frannie gave him a faux-pout and contented herself with sliding her hand up his inner thigh until he frowned.

~ ~ ~

Three weeks after Christmas, Chet wandered into the drugstore for a newspaper.

The woman behind the counter gestured toward the back of the store. "Unless you want the local one, they're over there. Next to the door."

He ambled in that direction, found a copy of The Seattle Times and was about to head back to the cashier when he spied a sports magazine with a picture of the Whitman soccer team on the cover.

Has to be an old issue if I'm on the cover. He bent down to the lowest shelf to check the date. As he stood up, someone bumped into him and gave a small gasp. He turned. A young woman stared at the multi-colored papers fluttering to the floor. She kneeled down to pick them up.

"Let me help. Didn't see you—I guess you didn't see me, either."

Her deep green eyes peered out from under thick lashes, her brown hair pulled off her face in a lopsided ponytail. Something about her was familiar. Her leg warmers lent a splash of bright color that accented her dark gray hiking shorts and her black off-the-shoulder tee, which showed one bra strap.

"You don't need to." Her mouth was a thin line as she bit her lip.

He looked over his shoulder. The woman from the front of the store headed in their direction, her heels drumming a staccato rhythm.

"What's going on here? How many of those papers did you drop, Jane?"

"I was going to buy some—I'll take them all—the ones I dropped," she replied.

Chet stepped forward. "Hey, doesn't the five-second rule apply? They barely touched the floor." He grinned crookedly at the proprietor and handed her a pile of papers, in a maelstrom of random hues.

"Never mind. I'll take all of them," the young woman offered as she grabbed them from his hands and blew at a strand of hair that floated across her nose.

"No way can I sell them all mixed up like that." The store owner trotted back to the front of the store.

"Sorry I bumped you," Chet said. "Can I make it up to you—buy you a coffee, or something?"

"No need," she said through pursed lips. "I have to get going, back to work."

He retrieved his paper and the magazine, and left the store. Jane, huh? She was cute. Maybe he'd call her, now that Frannie had left for grad school in Pennsylvania.

Ten minutes later, he sat on a bench in the sun, having given up trying to remember where he'd seen the pretty girl in the drugstore. He pulled the pages holding the jobs section and the rental classifieds from the newspaper and tossed the rest into a nearby garbage bin. He looked up when a dark blue Volkswagen Bug with rust edging both front fenders stopped at the light, its engine idling badly, smoke spewing out of the exhaust. When the light turned green, the driver pulled into the drive-up window of the Starbucks across the street. Drugstore Girl.