“You could have gone to college.” With her grades and family background, she might have even gotten a full ride.
Lupe made a face. “You know my parents didn’t let me. They needed me to start working, to bring in money for the family. They never understood...”
“How much more you could have made if you’d gone on with school.”
She nodded, her dark hair swinging, but then shrugged. “I’m lucky because I like to sew. I didn’t really want a career, anyway. You know how much I want children. A big family.”
“I do, too,” Tess said softly. “I’ve met a man—”
Lupe wanted to know all about him. Tess told her what she could without revealing the part Zach played in the ongoing investigation. “He’s been protecting me from the threats I’ve been receiving. But I don’t think he’s ready to get married or start a family.” She tried to smile. “So, you see, you’re lucky to have Rey.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.” Lupe patted her hand. “He thinks you look down on him because he’s only a farm worker.”
“Isn’t he a foreman?”
“Yes, but still he goes out to the fields every day. He takes orders. He could lose his job anytime.”
Tess snorted. “I can’t be fired, but I could end up losing the store. If a Home Depot or Lowe’s opens here in the county, so people didn’t have to drive as far to get to one, it would do in my business. Not many of us can afford to be smug.”
“That’s true,” Lupe said thoughtfully.
“Will you ask Rey who said that, about me changing my mind? Whether someone has been spreading a lie or whether people were just shrugging and saying, ‘Oh, she’ll say what they want her to, you know she will’?”
Lupe nodded.
Conversation became easier after that. Tess had to accept that Rey might never relax around her, but that didn’t mean she and Lupe couldn’t stay friends. Maybe they’d cleared the air today, at least.
Driving away after dropping Lupe off at the dry cleaner, Tess found herself angrier than ever about Antonio’s death. Despite knowing he didn’t dare attract the attention of authorities, he had still been courageous enough to try to defend a woman.
Andrew Hayes needed to pay.
* * *
ZACH WAS ON the car lot when his phone rang. Crap. His mother. He’d been dodging her calls for ages. He’d told her Bran wasn’t ready to see her, but obviously she wasn’t about to accept no for an answer.
Tough shit, he thought. He had a little trouble accepting her persistence. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d even mentioned Bran. She hadn’t tried very hard at all to hold on to him, yet now, suddenly, she wanted to envelop him in her arms?
But he couldn’t forget his regret that he hadn’t reconnected with Dad before he died. So he waved off an approaching salesman and took the call.
“And here I thought you were ignoring me.” Forget hello.
Reluctantly smiling, he said, “I was.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t buy an airline ticket and show up on your doorstep.”
“How would you find my doorstep?” he pointed out, the smile still tugging at his mouth.
“You told me where you’re working.”
He cringed at the idea of his mommy walking into the sheriff’s department asking for her son. No, worse: asking for her sons, plural. And Bran would be likelier than Zach to actually be there.
“Mom, don’t do that. Don’t put him on the spot.”
“What could he do but talk to me?”
“He could stare right through you then turn and walk away.” And Zach could see him doing it, no problem. “He’s not a boy anymore, Mom. He’s—God—heading toward forty.”
“Thirty-seven.” Her sharpness betrayed hurt that surprised Zach. “Do you think I don’t remember?”
He stared blindly at the sticker showing features and price in the window of a Ford F-150.
“No,” he said. “I know you do.” That, he had to admit, was a surprise.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” she asked. No, begged.
“Wait,” he told her. “One reconciliation at a time is enough.”