Page 11 of Buck (Diver Downeast #2)

Buck had tossed and turned all night.

On the one hand, he couldn’t wait to see Bobbie, while on the other, he dreaded the confrontation. He went over and over in his head what he was going to say to her, and even to his own ears his words sounded lame, and…at least fifteen years too late.

Crap. The guilt of waiting so long to set Bobbie’s mind straight was eating at him, but what choice had he been given?

None .

Luckily, he didn’t have to sneak by his mother this morning before he went in search of Bobbie.

Just last week he’d moved from his parents’ home into a small, fully-furnished cottage he’d found for rent.

It was located south of Orono, half way between his home town and the as-yet-to-be-opened Diver Downeast office, which was okay for now.

Eventually, however, he’d want to buy a house in Hampden so that he could roll out of bed, walk into town, grab some breakfast, then stroll into the office.

That sounded like heaven.

Right now, however, he needed to take himself off to Bobbie’s catering business, hoping he could get her alone to plead his case.

The address hadn’t been hard to find. Bobbie did a great job of advertising on line. And even if she hadn’t, his two local brothers could have pointed him in the right direction.

Not that he wanted to get his family involved.

Nope. This was something he had to do on his own, because in the end, Bobbie would either believe him or not, without any outside interference.

Driving up to the pretty little concrete-block building, Roberto’s Catering stood out like a bright peacock amongst an otherwise plain flock of stores.

The facade was painted a cheerful, cerulean blue, while flowers in a flamboyant riot of hues overflowed hot pink window boxes.

And the door? Warm yellow. Buck could easily see Bobbie’s hand in the color scheme of this place, and the cheery appearance lent him a comforting, genial feeling.

Some of his trepidation bled away. By the looks of things, Bobbie wasn’t miserable.

Going by the overall appearance of her building, she’d somehow found and embraced joy in her life, despite the early curveballs she’d been thrown.

Errant pitches that weren’t his fault.

Now, if he could just get her to believe him.

He unfolded his body from his minivan and walked up to the door, wondering what the protocol was. Did he knock? Did he walk right in? Buck stood, pondering.

Here was something to consider for Diver Downeast. There needed to be a sign on business doors that gave direction and hours.

Maybe Bobbie’s wasn’t a walk-in kind of place? Perhaps all her customer acquisitions and planning were done on-line and over the phone? Maybe this building was just a place where she cooked and stored things?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Buck approached the door and knocked, then backed up a few steps and thrust his hands into his pockets while he rocked back and forth on his heels.

Nothing .

He advanced and knocked again, this time a little louder.

Getting no response a second time, he figured he had nothing to lose, and tried the doorknob.

Locked .

“She’s closed on Mondays,” a helpful voice stated from just down the sidewalk. A woman with a key in her hand was just about to enter what must be her beauty salon.

“Oh.” Buck’s anticipatory fortitude took a hit. He’d steeled himself for a confrontation, and now he’d have to wait? Shit .

“Yeah. She’s off until Thursday. If you’re looking to book something, though, I know she has a very comprehensive website.”

“Uh, thanks, but I’m actually an…old friend.”

“Oh.” The woman’s look became speculative as she sucked in her bottom lip. “You know, you look a lot like…”

“…the police captain,” Buck supplied, way ahead of her. “Yeah. I get that a lot. I’m one of his brothers.”

“Nice to meet you, one of his brothers,” she smirked. “My name’s Pamela.”

Buck found his manners. “Buck,” he replied, walking over with his hand outstretched. “My pleasure.”

“Listen,” she told him, firmly taking the gesture with a knowing gleam in her eyes that said she was imagining old, romantic entanglements.

Buck could only wish.

“If you’d like to leave Bobbie a note, I’ll make sure she gets it.”

Clearly, she was new to town sometime in the last fifteen years, and didn’t know any of Buck and Bobbie’s history. That was a plus.

“No. Thanks for the offer, though. I know where she lives. I’ll just head there and find her.”

It was the last thing Buck wanted to do. He didn’t have a single fond memory of her brothers, and seeing them this morning would surely ruin his day. But what choice did he have? He had to get this encounter with Bobbie out of the way, or he’d perseverate on it until his brain exploded.

“Well, good luck with that. And if you and Bobbie do, uh, get together, my husband and I are always up for making new going-out friends.”

“Thanks,” Buck answered with a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Pamela looked like she’d be great fun to hang with, but Buck doubted if he and Bobbie would be double-dating any time soon. He’d be lucky if she just heard him out and offered him exoneration over what he was supposed to have done. Before she told him she never wanted to see him again.

Bummer.

Buck gave a wave as Pamela opened her door, and hoofed it back to his vehicle where he got inside, tilted his cranium back, and stared at his head-liner with a sigh.

Really ? He was going to have to see Drew and Jeff?

That’s not how he wanted to start the week.

He had a list of things Spencer had tasked him with, not the least of which was heading south into New Hampshire to meet with a retired diver who had lots of equipment for sale.

Although it would be nice to have all new gear, they needed to be frugal until they were making money, and besides, sometimes the older stuff was built better. Either way, it was worth a look.

Eventually, after the company started making a profit, they’d buy new, top-of-the-line stuff for themselves, as well as offering up rentals and sales of recreational grade equipment for students who took lessons from them.

Buck loved thinking about the future of their business, and it distracted him, somewhat, as he took the road out of town. Eventually, however, he was unable to stop himself from remembering previous, long-ago trips to Bobbie’s house.

At the start of their senior year, Buck had begun picking her up for school because she didn’t have a car and the Vo Tech’s busses didn’t provide service to her rural address. He’d become her daily chauffer, and he bitterly recalled exactly how that had come about.

On the second day of school, he’d inadvertently witnessed an altercation when Drew—who he hadn’t yet met—was dropping Bobbie off on the street outside their school.

Buck had a few classes with Bobbie, and he’d already had his eye on her as a person of interest. The school grape-vine, however, had told him that for reasons not talked about, Bobbie was off limits, so he’d been biding his time.

Nothing about the vague warning had discouraged Buck. It had merely intrigued him

That morning, he hadn’t been able to hear what was being said between the two siblings, but he’d watched in horror as Drew leaned over and yanked Bobbie back into the car by grabbing a fistful of her long, dark hair.

He’d continued giving her some kind of verbal hell as he shook her like a rag doll.

It became clear that Bobbie hadn’t responded to the abuse in the way Drew wanted, because he’d not only continued to rattle her brains, he’d smacked her hard on her thigh, causing Bobbie to yelp.

Buck’s visage had turned red. He’d seen enough.

He’d just been getting out of his vehicle to intervene when Bobbie managed to get away. She’d slammed the door behind her before Buck could reach the car and give the asshole a piece of his mind, then she’d slunk off, tears in her eyes as she attempted to pull herself together.

Her emotional hell hadn’t stopped Buck from approaching her after he’d made his displeasure known to the prick watching by sending him a dark, warning glance through his window. While Drew had scowled back, Buck had ignored him and gently taken Bobbie by the elbow, escorting her into school.

That had been the beginning of their friendship, which Buck had always wanted to turn into something more. But Bobbie had been skittish. Which had been okay with Buck. He’d figured he had plenty of time to win her over.

Yeah. That hadn’t worked out.

Buck dragged his mind away from the past, and focused on the here and now.

The Follster house, as he approached, looked to be in even worse shape than it had been fifteen years ago, and that wasn’t saying much. The place had always had the look of a hoarder’s dump. Now, it was a falling down hoarder’s dump.

Buck hadn’t understood Bobbie’s family dynamics for the first few months of getting to know her, but as their friendship grew, he’d found out that her alcoholic parents had divorced, then both walked out, leaving fifteen-year-old Bobbie’s care to that of her douchebag brothers who were ten and eight years older than her.

Not an ideal situation, but other than reporting the conditions of her home and having her removed from the house by social services—which Bobbie had begged him not to do—there was pretty much nothing in Buck’s arsenal that would have helped.

He’d thought, at the time, to enlist his parents’ aid, but in 2007, there’d been a nation-wide recession, accompanied by a severe downturn in the housing market.

Which had led to his father’s mill having to lay off workers.

The whole family had to tighten their belts significantly until things blew over.