Turn the Page Page 4

“I don’t need a cell phone, Dad.”

  “I don’t think I need one, either, but as your mother loves to remind me, today’s technologically advanced world makes them somewhat of a necessity. Besides, you’re going to be job hunting. Prospective employers need to have a way to reach you. It’s nothing fancy. Just an old flip phone your mom had in a drawer.”

  Corbin was touched.

  “I really appreciate it, Dad.”

  “Good. Hopefully, you’ll accept this gift just as graciously.” Samuel slid a check to his son. “Don’t argue. It’s for a car.”

  Corbin’s eyes grew wide when he saw the amount of the check.

  “Dad, I can’t.”

  “You can and you will. Your mother and I have already discussed it.”

  “I appreciate it, but—”

  “No buts, son. The rental has to go back. You need something to drive.”

  Corbin sighed heavily and stared down at the check on the kitchen table. He couldn’t take it. He just couldn’t.

  “Call it a loan if it makes you feel better,” Samuel said softly. “You said you need to start looking for a job, so yes, a car is necessary. And I know it’s not much, but you should be able to find a decent used car for that price.”

  “I . . . don’t even know what to say.”

  Samuel sighed and smiled at his son. “It’s a fresh start, Corbin. An investment in your future. Time to look forward. You can’t change the mistakes from the past.”

  “I made a lot of them.”

  “But those mistakes don’t define you. You define you. Who do you want to be, son?”

  Corbin pondered that as his dad handed him the newspaper.

  “I have to run, but check the classifieds. I’d be shocked if there were any decent jobs listed, but you might get lucky. And go down to Clancy Motors. They’ll make you a good deal.”

  “I will. Thanks, Dad.”

  After his father left for work, Corbin sat at the kitchen table and thought about his father’s question.

  Who do I want to be?

  He honestly had no idea. Growing up, he’d been amazed by his father’s passion for teaching. Corbin wished he’d loved anything as much as his dad loved his students. Then his grandfather gave him that guitar and taught him a few simple chords.

  On that day, Corbin James found his passion.

  He’d locked himself in his bedroom and practiced until his fingers bled. When he was in high school, Friday nights were spent at the river with his buddies, where he’d play until the cops arrived to bust up the party. When he was older, he’d sneak into bars at the county line and beg the owners to let him play. He covered Johnny Cash and Garth Brooks and threw some of his original songs into the mix, just to see what kind of reaction he’d get. And he played for free, simply happy to get some live stage experience. Corbin figured if he could survive playing in redneck bars, he could survive anywhere.

  How wrong he’d been.

  His father’s question continued to resonate in his mind as he drove the rental car into town later that day.

  Who did he want to be?

  Corbin knew himself well enough to know that music, in some form or another, had to be part of his life. Music was like oxygen. Despite the fact that he won that singing competition and had performed for millions of people since then, Corbin had never truly loved the stage. What he loved were the lyrics. He considered the possibility that he could simply be a songwriter. Stay right there in his little hometown and write songs for other people.

  He could picture it—a small house in the woods, with a big front porch where he could sit and write to his heart’s content. No touring. No gigs. No temptations of the road. Just peace, tranquility, and music.

  But most of all, he wanted to be a good man. An honest man. A man his family could finally be proud of.

  Corbin had no idea if he could make that happen, but he wanted to try.

  With renewed determination and just a little bit of hope, Corbin pulled into the lot of Clancy Motors, the only car dealership in town. He’d barely shifted the sedan into park before a man wearing an ugly tweed blazer and yellow tie flew out the showroom doors and made a beeline for the car. With his plastered-on smile and bad suit, the guy was the dictionary definition of a used car salesman. Corbin tried not to laugh as he stepped out of the vehicle.

  “Good afternoon,” the man said, offering his hand. “I’m Bill.”

  “Corbin.”

  If Bill recognized him, he hid it well.

  “What can I do for you, Corbin?”

  He glanced around the car lot. “I’m looking for something reliable.”

  “Not a problem. We only sell reliable cars here at Clancy Motors.”

  Sure you do.

  Corbin told him his price range, and Bill’s face fell a little as he steered his customer away from the shiny new models and straight to the pre-owned section. He was just peeking in the window of a sedan when he heard his name screamed from across the lot.

  Both guys turned to find a woman in high heels and a short skirt walking quickly in their direction. Corbin thought she looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t be sure thanks to the gigantic sunglasses on her face.

  “Wait a minute,” Bill said. “You’re Corbin James? The singer?”

  “That’d be me.”

  Corbin imagined the salesman was now recalculating his commission. He was also probably wondering why the famous musician was looking for a used car for under eight grand.

  He found it funny. Even his peer groups in rehab never believed it when he said he was practically broke.

  “Good Lord, you look fantastic. Tired but fantastic,” the woman said. Corbin tried desperately to recognize her voice. “Are you in town long? We should totally get some dinner and catch up.”

  Corbin shook his head. “I’m really sorry, but who—”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me,” she said with a smirk. When she finally removed her glasses, Corbin was instantly struck with a flood of memories that included prom night, the backseat of his dad’s car, and . . .

  “Sara Clancy.”

  The woman laughed. “It’s all coming back to you now, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is. You look incredible.”

  She grinned and placed her sunglasses on her head. “I know.”

  Corbin chuckled. Sara always had a lot of confidence, and for good reason. With her long blonde hair and killer legs, she could’ve been a model. That had been the plan, if he remembered correctly. Clancy Motors had belonged to her dad, and his dad before him. Corbin wondered what happened to make Sara follow in her family’s footsteps.

  Sara shot a disapproving look at her salesman.

  “Why are you showing him this piece of crap?”

  Bill cleared his voice. “Well, this car is within his budget and—”

  “Thanks, Bill. I’ve got this.” Sara slipped her arm into Corbin’s and led him across the lot. “Those are great cars, but the last owner drove it into the ground. It’s a good first ride for a kid. Something for a teenager to learn on, to beat up, to wreck. That’s what kids do. It’s not the car for you. Come with me.”

  Sara led him into the showroom.

  “There’s no way I can afford—”

  “Hush.”

  Corbin’s eyes widened as she led him toward a black BMW. The price on the sticker was more than double the amount of the check he had in his pocket.

  “This is a 2014 BMW X1. Turbo-charged engine, navigation system, alloy wheels, panoramic sunroof. Perfectly maintained and in need of a good home. Make me an offer.”

  “On this?”

  “Yep.”

  Corbin stared at the car in awe. “Sara, I don’t have a job.”

  “But I bet you’re looking for one. You need a reliable car to do that.”

  “According to Bill, this dealership is full of reliable cars. Cars that I can actually afford.”

  “How do you know you can’t afford this one?”


  “Because I can read.”

  “Nobody pays sticker price. You know that.”

  Corbin couldn’t believe his ears. “Well, I see nothing’s changed since high school.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You’re still crazy as ever.”

  Sara laughed. “I’m serious. Make me an offer.”

  Corbin shot her a nervous glance before opening the driver’s side door and peeking inside.

  “Leather seats. Ten thousand miles.” Sara’s voice fell to a whisper. “One previous owner who loved this car very much.”

  Granted, Corbin hadn’t dealt with many car salesmen. Or saleswomen. But he could tell by the tone of her voice that, for whatever reason, this car was special to her.

  “Who was the owner?”

  Sara sighed softly and reverently slid her hand across the hood.

  “My mom. She died six months ago. Dad asked me to sell it. He just couldn’t stand seeing it in the garage. Too many memories.” Sara sniffled and lowered her sunglasses over her eyes. “I’ve had a lot of offers, as you can imagine, but this was my mom’s car. I can’t just sell it to anybody. You’re not some stranger, Corbin. I’ve known you all my life. I need to trust the owner. Surely you understand that.”

  “I do, but—”

  “Good. Then make me an offer.”

  Corbin shook his head. She couldn’t be serious.

  “You don’t even know me, Sara. Not the man I am now, anyway. Why would you trust me with something so important?”

  Her face softened. “I don’t need to know the man you are now. I remember the boy I grew up with. The boy who played his guitar and sang with his sister. The boy who took me to the prom and gave me a corsage with a tiny daisy because he’d taken the time to ask my mom what kind of flowers I liked. I remember a boy who was such a gentleman on prom night that I had to drag him into the backseat of his daddy’s car.”

  The memory made him smile. “That was fun.”

  “It was. I remember that boy, and he was good to the core. So, shut up and make me an offer.”

  Corbin reached into his pocket and pulled out the check.

  “Is that all the money you have in the world?”

  “No, but it’s close.”

  “Then I’ll take half of it.”

  “But that’s just four grand.”

  “You’d be doing me a favor, Corbin. I need to sell this car. You need to buy one. We’re two old friends helping each other out. I’ll even make Bill take care of the rental for you. One-stop shopping. Do we have a deal?”

  Corbin sighed heavily and smiled at his friend.

  “We have a deal. Thank you.”

  Corbin drove through Riverview in his new-to-him car, still amazed at his good luck. Around noon, he stopped for lunch at the Sub Shop, but it just wasn’t the same without his nieces or Jolie, so he placed his order to go and headed home.

  It’d been a week since he’d last seen her. He found Jolie far too interesting, and for her sake—and maybe for his—Corbin had decided to keep his distance. But, thanks to Sara, today had been a great day, and he found himself wanting to share the good news with her. Against his better judgment, he stopped the car just in front of Turn the Page and glanced through the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. But all he saw was a bubble-blowing Rachel standing behind the counter.

  Probably for the best.

  Still, it was a beautiful day, and for the first time in forever, he actually felt like writing. Once he got home, he decided to take his lunch and guitar and head down to the river. As he approached the water, he stopped in his tracks when he heard a soft female voice. Corbin kept walking, and he smiled when he spotted her sitting on the dock.

  “Jolie?” he said quietly, not wanting to frighten her.

  She made no reply as he crept closer. He murmured her name a few more times until he noticed her headphones. Completely engrossed with the book in her hand, Jolie continued listening to her music and reading her book as he made his way to the dock. He stopped just short, taking a moment to gaze at her. She looked completely at home next to the water.

  Happy, peaceful, and without a care in the world.

  Jolie suddenly looked up, and she gasped softly when she saw Corbin standing there.

  He smiled and waved.

  She quickly lowered her earphones.

  “Corbin James, you scared the crap out of me.”

  “Sorry.” He grinned sheepishly and walked closer. “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  Corbin placed his guitar case and lunch on the dock before sitting down next to her.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “Your mom told me about the dock and said I could use it anytime I needed some privacy.”

  “Don’t mind at all. I take it today’s one of those days?”

  She nodded. “I just needed to get away . . . from things.”

  “What things?”

  “The store. The gossip. Small-town life. I love Riverview, but it can get so suffocating at times.”

  Corbin chuckled. “I remember.”

  “So, I came here to hide, I guess.”

  “Nothing wrong with hiding. This is a great place for it.”

  Jolie smiled softly. “And here I am, invading your privacy. I’m sure you’ve come here to get away, too. I should go—”

  Without realizing it, Corbin reached for her hand.

  “Don’t,” he whispered. Jolie trembled slightly as he laced his fingers with hers. “I mean, it’s a big dock. Big river. I’m happy to share.”

  “You’re sure?” Her voice was soft.

  “I was just going to eat my lunch and maybe play a little. Want half? It’s turkey.”

  “I’d love half. Thanks.”

  Corbin and Jolie sat in a comfortable silence, eating their sandwiches and watching the water. After a few minutes, he decided to take advantage of the opportunity to quiz her about her life.

  “So where are you from?”

  “Everywhere. Dad was in the military. But I grew up in San Diego. Total city girl.”

  “San Diego’s a long way from Riverview.”

  “That’s one of the best things about it.” Jolie’s voice grew wistful. “My mom passed away a few summers ago. Car accident.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. It was hard, you know, but my dad was inconsolable. He’d retired by then and they’d just bought the cutest house near the ocean. My brother had just graduated from the police academy. After Mom died, all of us were ready for a fresh start in a new town. We have family close by, and Dad had always wanted to live in the country, so here we are.”

  “Do you like it here? I mean, San Diego is a pretty big city. Riverview was probably hard to get used to.”

  “It was, at first. Driving an hour to find something to do was a foreign concept to me. That’s why I opened the bookstore. The town didn’t have one, and I needed something to focus on besides my grief.” Jolie sighed wistfully and looked out at the water. “It took some time, but I think we’ve finally found our home.”

  The tone of her voice caused an ache in Corbin’s chest that nearly knocked him breathless. Jolie had been through so much, but she’d found a way to channel her misery into something positive. Something that gave her a sense of home. Corbin longed to find that same kind of fulfillment.

  Hoping to lighten the mood, he asked about the name of the bookstore.

  “Why Turn the Page?”

  “Dad’s a Bob Seger fan,” she said, laughing. “Plus, I liked the play on words. Turning pages. Books. Most people get the musical reference. Some don’t.”

  “Like my mom.” Corbin chuckled.

  Jolie grinned.

  “What about your brother?” Corbin asked. “Does he live here, too?”

  “Oh, yeah. Keith’s the sheriff.”

  Corbin’s eyes widened. “Your brother’s the sheriff of Riverview?”

  “Yep. He worked as a deputy until the old sheriff decided to
retire. Nobody else wanted the job, so they hired Keith as interim sheriff until the election. Everyone said it was very unusual for an outsider to win, but he did. By a lot. Everybody loves him.”

  “I look forward to meeting him. And your dad.”

  “You’d like them. They’re good guys. The best.” Jolie took a deep breath and smiled sheepishly. “So much for solitude. I haven’t shut up. Seriously, I can go and give you some privacy.”

  “I don’t want you to go.” The words were out before he could stop them.

  “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  He fixed his gaze on the water while he struggled to find the words.

  “Because I like talking to you.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  Of course she’d ask that.

  Needing something to do with his hands, Corbin pulled his guitar out of its case.

  “I think you’re . . . interesting.”

  “Wow, Corbin, don’t hurt yourself with the flattery there.”

  “What? That’s a total compliment.”

  “A magazine article is interesting. A documentary is interesting.”

  “So maybe that’s the wrong word.”

  “What’s the right word?”

  A thousand words came to his mind, but he settled on just one. A safe one.

  “Fascinating. I find you fascinating. Better?”

  She smiled. “Much. It’s the perfect word, because I find you fascinating, too.”

  Jolie Daniels finds me fascinating.

  Corbin tried to ignore how happy that made him.

  “And it has nothing to do with being star-struck,” she added with a smirk.

  “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  “Maybe. On one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  Jolie nodded toward his guitar. “Play something for me.”

  With a grin, Corbin grabbed his pick and started to play. His fingers formed chords and his right hand strummed, but it was completely involuntarily, because all he could concentrate on was Jolie’s heart-shaped face and her pretty green eyes.

  She smiled and pulled her knees close to her chest. “That’s pretty. Did you write it?”

  Corbin nodded.

  “It’s good.”

  “Thanks.” He played a little longer until he had to say something. Something she’d maybe take to heart. “You shouldn’t find me fascinating, Jolie.”