Ava's Prize

He had no idea when he’d see Dan, Ben or Ava again. That promise wouldn’t be difficult to keep. Smiling, he walked toward the back of the suite, grabbed his checkbook from a desk drawer and wrote out a check in his sister’s name. He knew by heart how much she’d need to cover her monthly expenses—he’d written the same check every month for the past year. Returning to the inspiration area, he handed her the check. “It’s enough to cover rent and food for the month.”

“I’ve got everything covered.” She focused on the lane, both her voice and grip on the ball intense.

“You’ve already lined up another job.” He couldn’t quite pull the surprised sarcasm from his voice.

She tossed the ball, pumped her fist as it rolled into the highest point ring. “Not yet. But I will.”

“Then you’re going to need this.” Kyle thrust the check at her. “Just take it.”

His sister launched her final ball. Landed another high point and jumped up in the air. “Where’s the chalk?”

“The what?” he asked.

She waved toward the chalkboard wall. “The chalk. I need to write my name over Ava’s.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“I’m the new high score.” She jumped again and pointed at him. “You can tell Ava I said, challenge accepted.”

Why couldn’t his sister be this competitive in the workforce? “You need to go home and iron your suit—the one you wore for your job interview at Zenith—and not worry about being the high score.”

“No ironing today.” She erased Ava’s name and wrote hers with her trademark flourish and flower to dot the second lowercase I in her name. “I have an appointment with Roland Daniels to de-stress and unwind.”

He needed to de-stress. How could his sister be so unpredictable and stubborn? She’d just lost her job. Again. “Stop at the bank and deposit this check on your way to the yoga studio.”

“I already agreed to go with you to the Harrington event. You don’t need to pay me like I’m your employee or something.”

Kyle cleared his throat to release the truth. The truth she never wanted to hear. “You can’t go back to Penny’s Place, Iris. Take the check.”

Iris crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him. “Why not? They understand me there.”

“It’s a shelter for abused and abandoned women.” He still cringed at the memories of seeing his sister in the doorway of Penny’s Place. Her bruised eye. The stitches circling her wrist and crisscrossing her forehead. A nauseous fury still stormed through him at the reminder. “You aren’t either of those things now.”

She yanked the check from his grip and stuffed it into her suit pocket. “Because of your handouts.”

“It’s not like that.” If she’d keep a job, she wouldn’t need his handouts. He smoothed the frustration from his voice. “I want to help. That’s all.”

He wanted his sister to have security and protection—everything she never had in her brief marriage.

Iris slipped her heels back on, once again looking the part of a corporate professional ready to conquer the business world, one promotion at a time. “Mom and Dad called to congratulate me on making it a full week. I tried to pretend, but it only disrupted my inner zen. Luckily, they were off to snorkel, and their lecture ended quickly.”

Neither Iris nor Kyle had told their parents the full details of her divorce. No one besides Kyle knew where Iris had ended up a week after she’d signed her divorce papers. No one besides Kyle knew about the darkness in her marriage. Kyle intended to help his sister now.

“Did Mom and Dad tell you when they wanted to move back?” Perhaps with his parents back home, they could work together to get Iris into a full-time job. Kyle was beginning to think he needed reinforcements.

Iris tipped her head and gaped at him. “You do realize they retired to the Florida Coast, right?”

“But their family is here.” Their home was here. At least once he built the family estate in Sonoma. Then their family could be together again. Close again like they’d been before Papa Quinn’s death. Like his grandfather had always expected them to be.

“Speaking of family, can your family members enter that contest of yours?” Iris pulled a folded piece of paper from her oversize purse. “Wade showed me the flyer this morning before I left.”

“No. You’re ineligible to win.” Besides, he’d already advanced her double that amount over the past year.

“I have a great idea that’s worth more than your contest prize.” Enthusiasm lifted her voice. “I only need paint brushes and...”

“Painting the ceiling in here to look like the sky isn’t a great idea.” Kyle crossed his arms over his chest. He’d given Iris free rein to design the bathrooms and hang her own artwork in the elevator. The arcade, he intended to leave alone. The family basement never had a ceiling painted to look like the sky. He didn’t need that now.

“With the right lighting in here, it’d look incredible.” Iris adjusted her purse on her shoulder and stared up at the ceiling. “You have no imagination.”

He used to have one that helped him create endless ideas. He wasn’t sure where his imagination had fled to or how to find it. “I don’t need an imagination to recognize when something is a waste of time and money.”

“Art is never a waste of time.” Her voice was confident, her tone defiant. “But I don’t expect you to understand.”

He understood his sister needed a job with a regular paycheck. “I’ll pick you up at seven tonight.”

“Any other orders?”

He couldn’t resist the urge to bait her. “Get a class calendar from the yoga studio. When you start working full-time again, you won’t be able to attend a late-morning yoga session with Roland.”

Iris glared at him and yanked open the door. She exited without a goodbye. He shouldn’t have baited her. Yet when she was riled, she lost her fragility and vulnerability. Whenever Iris was riled, he saw a glimpse of his older sister—the one with the backbone and spirit that had come to his defense more than once. The one he’d grown up wanting to be like. Was it wrong that he wanted the sister he once knew?

CHAPTER FIVE (#u312b7689-1e40-5082-a26e-897a07ae939c)

AVA RUBBED HER eyes and looked out the passenger window of the ambulance, idling in their usual curbside spot on the street. Three hours ago, the clock had chimed for Cinderellas everywhere to return home before the magic disappeared. Now Dan and Ava were stuck in the middle, between midnight and sunrise, with four hours left on their work shift.

The darkest hour of the night might’ve already passed, but the city only ever went completely dark in a rare power outage. Tonight was no different with the stoplight lighting the intersection and the surrounding buildings lit in awkward checkerboard patterns.

Tourists knew the city for its landmarks: Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz and Lombard Street with its eight hairpin turns. Ava marked the city by patients and victims, especially the ones that had left the deepest mark inside her. Six blocks ahead on the left was the cardiac plaza. Chest pains and shortness of breath were the main reasons for 9-1-1 calls from that particular office building. Four blocks to her right was her first hit-and-run intersection. Every time she passed the corner of Cliff Street and Gate Street, the anguish of a mother’s cries over her stillborn baby echoed through her.

Ava stared out the window, searching for a less morbid memory. Only gloom overtook her. That was her own fault for inviting her financial problems inside the ambulance. She should’ve stuck to the cute puppy and kitten videos she usually watched between emergency calls and not opened the help-wanted website on her phone.

But watching endless videos wasn’t going to pay the rent or cover the cost of her mom’s prescriptions. Neither was her paramedic’s salary. She had to supplement her income.

She scrolled through the job ads on her phone and groaned.

“Nothing promising?” Dan asked between bites of his cheeseburger.

“It’s a toss-up between airplane repo man, exotic personal assistant or nude housekeeper.” Ava dropped her phone on her lap.

Dan choked on his bite of french fry.

Ava handed Dan his bottle of water. “In all fairness, the nude part ends when the guy’s wife returns from her vacation. Then it’s just regular housekeeping.”

Dan wiped a napkin over his mouth and muted the laughter in his voice. “How much does the housekeeper get paid?”

“Not nearly enough.” The housekeeping would barely cover the expense of her mom’s daily medications. That left rent, electric and food.

“For the fast, easy payout, you should enter Kyle’s contest. You get to keep your clothes on, unless of course your invention involves being naked.” Dan crumpled the empty foil wrapper from his cheeseburger along with the tease from his tone. “Although that doesn’t seem like the kind of X-rated idea Kyle wants in his contest.”