The Signature (A Perfect Forever Novel) Read online

  Devon paused. “Have I ever let the paper down, Rosa? This story is bigger than Croatia. This is a story you’d buy our paper to read. A front page exclusive—and not another paper in the country will have it! Tell Phil that. I’ll be back in a month.”

  Rose groaned and then said, “It had better be, Devon. I like you.”

  Devon laughed. He stopped documenting his notes of the day. Reaching for the morning cup of coffee, now cold, he took a sip and inquired, “I have a question for you, Rosa. Let’s say you have a fabulous body. You weren’t modest about it, at least not in showing your legs, and you were sailing on a hot day. Why wouldn’t a woman take off her t-shirt even if she were wearing her bikini top underneath and would be more comfortable without the shirt?”

  He regretted the question at once. She was laughing her head off.

  Indignantly, she said, “I have to pretend I have a fabulous body. That’s an insult, Devon. I should hang up the phone.” More laughter. Then, “No wonder you want to be gone. Sailing with an interviewee with a fabulous body instead of staring at Phil’s angry mug! Milk it for every day you can. So, the last gentleman in the news business does have eyes.”

  She was choking on her laughter now. “I’m sorry. I have no idea why your interviewee wouldn’t take her shirt off for you. But I’ll put it on the newsroom e-mail and I bet you’ll get an interesting collection of responses. Devon couldn’t get his interviewee to take off her shirt.”

  More laughter, then a quick goodbye. He tossed his phone onto the desk. He began to read his notes on Krystal. It was a nothing type of gesture on her part. Why did it bother him so much?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Krystal sat at the counter of the instrument shop, thumbing through a music trade magazine. Scanning the pages, she paused when she reached an advertisement for Morgan’s upcoming concert in San Francisco. It didn’t surprise her that it was sold out. Morgan and a crowd were magic.

  The bells on Fritz’s door jingled a pleasant chorus and Krystal looked up to find Devon crossing the store. Instantly, she slapped the magazine shut.

  “Devon.”

  She spoke his name unconsciously. It was there in her mind, like a sweet song, whenever he came within ten feet of her. His cheeks had a warm glow, as if they’d been brushed repeatedly by the wind, and his hair was lightly mussed. He’d been walking again on the boardwalk along the bay. It had become a habit for her eyes to search him out whenever she was near the places which seemed to draw Devon so often.

  His smile came instantly and warmly. “Pretty lady, don’t you get tired of being indoors on days like today?”

  “I would, if I didn’t have that lovely view of the bay,” she replied with a smile, nodding toward the wide expanse of glass at the front of Fritz’s shop.

  He did a quick check of the empty store. “Quiet day?”

  “Dead. There have been only four customers all day. Fritz and Maggie have gone off fishing with Katie, and since this is Sunday, there are no tiny tots.”

  “Lucky me to find you alone.” The looked in Devon’s eyes made her tingle. “Why don’t you close up shop? I was on my way to the fair at Mingus Park. Why don’t you join me? I doubt you’ll see another soul all day.”

  She hated how much the idea of spending the afternoon with Devon appealed to her. She knew that the invitation was just a friendly one. Since the day she had gone sailing with Devon, he had never again crossed that carefully constructed line of friendship. They’d had lunch together twice and she had even had him over to her house one evening to barbecue steaks. She found his company pleasant and his intellect compelling.

  They had settled quickly into a comfortable friendship that was pleasing. She knew that Devon wouldn’t cross the line she had put between them, even though there was still always the undercurrent, that suggestion that if she wanted to open that door, he would open it. She was furious with herself over how frequently the thought tempted her.

  “I would like to go, Devon,” she admitted truthfully, “but I can’t. I was about to close up shop right now anyway. Jason and the boys will be playing on the bandstand at the fair tonight. I was on my way over there to set up the equipment.”

  “I’ll give you a hand then.”

  Krystal laughed. “What do you know about setting up musical equipment?”

  “Not a thing,” Devon replied, smiling. “But I could referee the boys while you take care of business.”

  “Do you dare?”

  “Don’t worry. I know how to deal with Jason. And you’ve got enough to do without having to cope with a healthy dose of Jason’s teenage male attitude.”

  The remarkable thing was, Devon did know how to deal with Jason. He was a welcomed and favored guest at their rehearsals in Krystal’s garage, and she knew that much of the success she had had lately, working with the boys, was due to Devon’s amazing talent to cut through their over-developed egos and relate to them on their level. He credited this miracle to the fact that he had been raised with four brothers, but Krystal knew better than that. There was something about Devon’s easy charm and good humor that could win over even the hardest heart. Hadn’t his natural appeal proven disastrous to her own resolve to maintain distance between them?

  Pushing up from the stool, Krystal said, “With an offer like that, how could I refuse?”

  In the end, she was thankful she had joined him. When they reached the bandstand, the boys were in an all-out argument because Jason, on a whim, had decided to change the songs for the opening set. It had taken hours of bickering the day before to settle on which music to play at the fair. Krystal had thought her nerves would snap amid the clashing wills and overzealous opinions. And now Jason wanted to change it. She was witnessing a slow crumbling of the carefully constructed harmony that Devon had built between the boys.

  “That’s enough,” Devon said, stepping between the two boys who were engaged in a healthy dose of shoving. When Jason made to go after Ronnie again, Devon grabbed him by the shirt sleeve and pulled him away. “I said enough, Jason. If you want to be a professional someday, learn to act like one. You can’t go around punching the members of your band and think that people will want to work with you. Does your mother know you talk that way? Can it. There are expletives I learned with a Marine Battalion in Desert Storm that you’ve never even heard before. If you can settle down for a moment, maybe we can reach a compromise.”

  Krystal watched as Devon adroitly maneuvered Jason away from the rest of the boys and managed to get him calmed down enough to talk. A minute had passed before Devon winked at her to let her know it would be all right. Krystal, on the bandstand, smiled.

  “Devon’s cool,” Ronnie said, settling down beside Krystal amid the web of cables littering on the stage.

  “Yeah, Devon is cool.”

  “You got a thing for him or something?”

  Krystal blushed. “Something,” Krystal replied, noncommittal.

  “You going to marry him?”

  That question made her sit back. “Where did you get an idea like that?”

  “Jason said we shouldn’t count on you being around to help us for very long. That he can see what’s going on and that you’ll dump us as soon as you and Devon get hitched. Even a guy as cool as Devon isn’t going to want four teenage boys hanging around his wife.”

  “Jason says too much about things he knows nothing about. I haven’t any plans to go anywhere, with anyone,” Krystal replied, uneasy. She wouldn’t leave them, not unless she had to. The knowledge that survival might force her to run again held in check her ability to give Ronnie the unqualified vote of assurance he was looking for.

  “Hey, hand me that cable over there,” Krystal said, pointing.

  Ronnie grabbed it and handed it to her.

  “How come you know so much about everything? You know how to arrange music, how to record it, do a professional set up of our equipment. Where’d you learn all this, Mrs. D?”

  Krystal shrugged, hoping her internal pa
nic wasn’t showing on her face. She had known her involvement with the boys could possibly stir-up suspicion about her. She had not been able to turn away after having met them. Morgan had helped her. It was the legacy.

  She glossed over Ronnie’s last question by saying, “Help me move that speaker back. We need to turn it more outward. And you’ve got the drums too far forward. They’re going to bleed too loudly into the microphones with where you have them.”

  They were busy dragging equipment across the stage, resetting their placement when Devon and Jason returned.

  “Who the hell moved the drums?” Jason said the instant he was on stage.

  “I did,” Krystal replied calmly. “You’ve got everything positioned wrong.”

  “I bet you know all kinds of positions, don’t you, teach?” Jason jeered.

  Krystal’s blue eyes began to flash in her reddened face.

  Devon came to her quick defense. “Another comment like that from you, Jason, and you won’t be doing any singing tonight because that guitar of yours will be stuffed in your mouth.”

  Jason backed off instantly, muttering under his breath. “Just don’t mess with my equipment without my say so!”

  Devon stood shaking his head, as Jason swaggered across the stage and picked up his guitar. “I don’t know how you put up with it sometimes.”

  “It’s just ego and nerves. He’s not a bad kid. He just likes to act big in front of the other boys. He thinks it makes him look tougher than he is.”

  “He has no right to insult you, considering all the things you do for him. Do you want me to have another talk with him?”

  Krystal smiled in amusement over Devon’s concern for her offended feelings. If he only knew where she had spent the last ten years of her life, what it was like being a female vocalist on tour with a band, and what she’d had to put up being Nick Stafford’s wife. Devon would have realized that it would take more than one comment out of left field from Jason to wound her.

  “Don’t bother. Jason thrives on reaction. It’s no big deal.”

  “I’d forgotten who I was talking to,” Devon said with tender appreciation. “You may look like a frail flower on the outside, but you’re tough as steel on the inside, Christine. You’re such a paradox in so many ways.”

  His words of praise pleased her too much. Is that how Devon saw her? She liked seeing herself through Devon’s eyes.

  She was beaming over his compliment without knowing it. It wasn’t until crinkly lines wreathed the corners of Devon’s mouth, in response, that she realized what she was doing. Lightly, he reached out to give a gentle tug on her dangling unicorn earring.

  “Why don’t we cut out and grab something to eat? Give the boys a chance to work through their conflict alone. Trust me, Christine. I’ve got Jason’s thoughts all rearranged. You’ve got to let the boys stand on their own someday. You can’t expect to mediate their problems forever.”

  Devon’s words struck a sad chord within her. It was true. She wouldn’t be here forever. She couldn’t count on being anywhere for any extended period of time. That she’d managed in Coos Bay for so long was nothing less than miraculous. But her miracle could change at any moment. Suddenly solemn, she realized how much she would miss her carefully constructed life with Fritz, and the boys, and Devon.

  She was shivering. The sun had set, the air had gotten chilly, but it wasn’t the cold alone that made her quiver.

  Devon pulled off his sweatshirt and was tugging it over Krystal’s head before she could protest. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to bring along a sweater just in case? I was ten years old before I learned to escape the house without half my wardrobe tied around my body.”

  Devon’s remembrances made her laugh. She loved to hear anecdotes about his family. He told his stories with such flair and affection. He was probably a magnificent writer.

  “What is your mother like?” she asked.

  “A little thing, just like you. But tough as nails. Had to be, with five sons. She positively ruled us. Our dad thought he ran the house, but he didn’t, and everyone knew it except him.”

  “Did you have a happy childhood?”

  Devon laughed. “I did. I know everyone likes to say they did, but mine really was. My parents aren’t rich, we didn’t have the kind of advantages money could buy, but they are honest, loving people who did their best for us. They taught us to dream, to stand on our own feet, that if we worked hard enough anything was possible. What more could you ask for?” His bright eyes ran her face. “How about you?”

  Krystal suddenly lowered her eyes. “It wasn’t unhappy, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “If it wasn’t unhappy, what was it then? There’s got to be more to it than that.”

  Krystal shrugged. “I didn’t have a mother to teach me to me to take a sweater just in case. And my father...he worked a lot. I didn’t see him much. He traveled a great deal. When he was home, he was a good father. It was okay.”

  “What was your marriage like?” Devon asked casually.

  Krystal tensed. “It wasn’t good. Why else would it have ended in divorce?”

  Devon knew it was time to back off. He could see Krystal closing up right in front of him. It was clear if he were ever to get the interview he came for, he was going to have to risk placing his cards face up and hope he could convince her that it was safe to trust him.

  And he would have to get on with it soon. A month had already passed. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing here any longer. He was becoming too involved with her in some ways and not enough in the way he intended. That was a complication that wouldn’t benefit either of them.

  Running a hand through his hair to clear his thoughts, he said, “What are you in the mood for? Barbecue or good old, all-American carnival junk food?”

  “Junk food wins hands down every time,” Krystal laughed, pleased that they were back on safe and neutral ground.

  They stopped at the first concession stand, and she was studying the posted selections with such enthusiasm that Devon couldn’t bite back his laughter.

  “I’ve never known a woman who was more of a nut about junk food than you are. I don’t know where you put it all or how you stay so thin. I’ve put on ten pounds since I met you. You’re not really going to eat all this?”

  Two hot dogs, a plate of fries, a bag of onion rings and a strawberry shake sat before them on the counter, and she hadn’t even finished ordering yet.

  Flippantly, she said, “I lived a completely deprived childhood! I’m making up for it now.”

  Devon’s eyes were sparkling and disbelieving. “Deprived, huh? Somehow I don’t think that deprived accurately describes the background I envision you to have come from. The picture that always comes to mind when I think of you as a young girl is private schools and pleated skirts with prim, buttoned-down, white blouses. Did you used to laugh at the poor boys who asked you out on your way to school, just like the girls who used to laugh at me?”

  Krystal flushed with surprise as she gaily munched on a hot dog. Devon had described to the letter exactly how her childhood had been. His insights were always too accurate about her. Christine Dillon hardly lived a life that spoke of money and privilege, and yet Devon could see through that, into her, into the person she had been before Coos Bay, before Morgan and Nick. Nervousness nipped at her stomach.

  Masking worry behind humor, she teased, “You forgot the sweaters with their little gold monograms and the saddle shoes. It used to make me feel like a walking anachronism. And I never laughed at anyone, because no one ever asked me out, and I never walked to school. I lived there. Year-round, until I was seventeen.” She crinkled her nose. “You won’t hold this against me, will you? What gave me away?”

  “Your passion for simple pleasures as if you’ve never known them. Those tiny little hands that move with such graceful elegance. The way you can throw on an old t-shirt and a hat and give it style. I had you pegged for one of those poor little rich girls from
the start.”

  She was on her second hot dog. “Why did the girls laugh at you when you asked them out?”

  Devon grinned. “Because I always found those prim little white blouses unbearably sexy and was outrageous enough to tell them that.”

  “Sexy, huh?” She made one of her comical faces. “I wish I had known you in high school. I think I would have had a better time. No one ever asked me out.”

  “Really? Where did you grow up? It must have been some alien planet if the young men weren’t beating down the door for you.”

  She blushed at the compliment. “The young men couldn’t get to the door,” she said, ambiguously. Then impishly, she asked, “Would you have beaten down the door for me?”

  His thumb lightly brushed her smiling lips and the look in those gemmed eyes made her tingle. “Without a doubt, beautiful lady. Would you have laughed?”

  The current between them made it impossible to lie. “No. Never. Those girls must have been crazy to laugh at you.”

  He held her in a warm gaze before he stepped back from her and smiled. “Are you finished with all this? Why don’t we walk the fair for a while?”

  His sudden withdrawal from their unexpected closeness made her feel as though she were rapidly deflating, but she acknowledged it was for the best and fought to return a friendly tone between them.

  They walked the long rows of booths, loaded down with a large stuffed snake and two bears that Devon had won for her, and laughingly made their way back to the bandstand.

  She listened with pride as the boys’ music was received by an enthusiastic crowd. It seemed as if Jason and his band had managed to put aside their differences long enough for the performance to go smoothly.

  It was nearly ten before she found herself seated beside Devon in his car and on her way home.

  “Why don’t we have a drink at my place,” Devon said when they turned down their street. “Didn’t you say that Fritz and Maggie wouldn’t be dropping Katie off until tomorrow?”