A Deal to Die For (21 page)

“Oh, look at the time,” Joanne said as she glanced at Max’s phone. “I have a doctor’s
appointment over in Dumontville. Max, would you mind giving Maggie a ride?”

“No problem,” he said. He turned to Sam and said, “If you need confirmation that I
was conferring with my client and that my two…um…assistants were here to help me,
feel free to ask Bianca Madison. She can give you all of the details. Are you ready
to go, Maggie?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Just let me climb in your door first,” Max said.

Maggie waited while Max crawled over the middle of the car, awkwardly bending his
frame into the driver’s seat.
When she was about to climb in after him, Sam leaned into the open door, blocking
her way.

“I’ll give Maggie a lift home,” he said.

Max glanced at Maggie. She glanced at Sam. His gaze had a definite frost on it.

“That sounded more like an order than an offer,” she said.

“That was the gist,” he said.

Maggie bent over to glance at Max. “Looks like I have a police escort.”

Max frowned.

“No worries,” she said. “I’ll get Sam up to speed.”

“Just the facts,” Max said.

“Roger that,” she said.

Max turned the key and stomped on the gas. The car gave a low groan, like a bear waking
from hibernation, before it lurched forward and down the driveway, leaving behind
the acrid smell of exhaust but thankfully no car parts.

Maggie looked up and noticed that the trees on the estate had dropped most of their
leaves, and the piles on the ground were becoming significant. The world surrounding
them had lost its vibrant hue and seemed to be locked into shades of brown and pale
blue.

“Do I get frontsies or backsies?” she asked Sam.

“If you can refrain from touching my siren, you can sit in the front,” he said.

“Really?” she asked. “No siren? Not even the short chirp they make sometimes?”

“No, not even that,” he said.

“I don’t much see the point of riding in a squad car if I don’t get to use the siren,”
she said.

“It beats walking,” he said.

“There is that,” she agreed.

Sam opened the door for her, and Maggie slid into the utilitarian vehicle. She was
relieved that he seemed to be treating her like he did Ginger, as an old friend he
could banter comfortably with. Maybe there was hope for this attempt at friendship
after all.

They were halfway down the driveway before he ruined it completely.

“So, what was Doc doing in your shop this morning?” he asked. “Did he tell you anything
of interest?”

“How do you even know he was in my shop?” Maggie asked. “Are you spying on me?”

“No!” Sam protested. “I don’t have to spy on you. Summer Phillips’s shop is across
the street from yours. If you so much as sneeze, she calls me to tell me about it.”

“Why that’s just…” She sputtered to a stop. There weren’t words powerful enough to
express how irritated she was.

“What do you know, Maggie?” Sam’s voice was soft.

She turned to study him. His jaw was clenched tight with a stubborn resolve that let
her know he was not going to let this topic go until he got satisfactory answers.
She suspected it was this relentlessness that made him such a good detective.

Obviously, he was unaware that he had met his match in the obstinacy department, and
she had no intention of telling him what Doc had told her. She was still trying to
make peace with it, and she knew it wasn’t her place to blab.

“I can take you down to the station and question you formally, if you’d prefer,” he
said.

They had reached the center of town, and Maggie wondered for a fleeting second if
he actually would. She was supposed to meet the girls to paint the shop tonight.

She would hate to miss that. She had a feeling he was bluffing.

“Stop trying to intimidate me,” she said. “It won’t work.”

Sam stopped at an intersection and turned to look at her. His lips curved up in a
wry smile that let her knew she’d been right. He wasn’t going to haul her in.

“I know,” he said. “You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

Maggie blinked. “Is that a compliment?”

“Would that be so shocking?” he asked.

“Uh—yeah,” she said. “That would be two in as many days. You’d better watch it, or
I’m going to start thinking you actually like me.” As soon as the words were out of
her mouth, Maggie felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. “And by that, I mean
as a friend, of course.”

“I do care about you.” Sam paused. “As a friend.”

A honk behind them made them both jump, and Maggie glanced up to see that they’d been
sitting through a green light. Sam blew out a breath as he stepped on the gas and
moved the car forward.

They were both silent, and Maggie was painfully aware of his every move beside her.
The way he held the steering wheel in his hands and how his eyes checked the rearview
mirror every few seconds. It was an awareness that put her on edge, and she longed
to hop out of the car and put some breathing room between them.

He turned onto her street and pulled into the driveway of her house. Maggie didn’t
wait for him to open the door, instead she shoved it open and was halfway out when
he called her back.

“Maggie, as a friend, I need to know what Doc told you,” he said.

Maggie stared at him for a second. Suddenly, the
compliments and the blushing awkwardness between them made perfect sense. Sam Collins
was trying to charm the information out of her.

“You are despicable,” she said. She slammed the car door, making the glass rattle.

Sam reeled back as if she’d struck him. He hopped out of his side of the car and stared
over the roof at her.

“What did I do now?” he asked.

“You heard me,” she said. “You’re trying to charm information out of me like I’m the
same bubble-headed adolescent you left behind when you went to college. The same idiot
who believed you when you told me you loved me. Well, it’s not going to work!”

Maggie spun on her heel and started stomping up the walkway to her house.

“Maggie, wait!”

Sam started to follow her.

“Forget it, Sam!” she snapped over her shoulder. “I’m not falling for it again.”

“Hey!” He grabbed her by the elbow and spun her around to face him. “I am not trying
to charm anything out of you.”

“Oh, sure. ‘You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met,’ blah blah blah.” She
repeated his words. “You’re playing me like a fiddle, but I’m not giving up Doc to
you, so you can just quit trying.”

Sam glowered at her. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I meant what I said?”

Maggie gave him a scathing look.

“You were widowed at twenty-four and had to raise your daughter by yourself and, from
what I’ve heard around town, you’ve done a heck of a good job. I call that pretty
damn brave.”

Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but Sam wasn’t done.

“Do you have any idea how I felt when I heard Pete ask you out the other day?”

“Amusement at my expense?” she guessed.

“No. White hot jealousy,” he said. “The exact same thing I felt when I heard you were
going to go out with Butch Carver from Rosemont.”

Maggie felt her mouth slide open in surprise.

“Some things don’t change with time,” Sam said. “And the way I feel about you, the
way I’ve always felt about you, is one of them.”

“I—” She began to speak, but Sam cut her off.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “You got married and had a kid and moved on with your life,
but I never did. It’s always been you, Maggie. Always.”

She watched as Sam ran a hand through his hair. He looked equal parts frustrated and
embarrassed.

“Listen, I know you’re dating Pete, and I respect that,” he said. “I won’t push you
in a direction you obviously don’t want to go, but I don’t want you to have any confusion
about my feelings for you. I care about you—I’ve always cared about you and not just
as a friend.”

“Sam, I—” she began, but he was already backing up toward his car, as if he needed
to put some space between them.

“It’s all right, Maggie,” he said. “I’m a big boy, I can handle it. I’m not going
to grab you and kiss you and try to convince you that it’s really me you should be
dating, tempting as that may be.”

He was back at his car, and Maggie was torn between running into her house to hide
under her bed, and launching herself over the hood of his car and into his arms. So,
naturally, she stood frozen, unable to move so much as an eyelash.

“But, Maggie, I need you to know one thing,” he said. “No matter how much I care for
you, I still have to do my job, and I’m going to need to know what Doc told you, and
if I have to drag you in front of a judge to make it happen, I will. I’ll be in touch.”

Maggie was pretty sure her feet had sprouted roots, as she was incapable of moving
until the taillights of his car disappeared around the end of the street.

“What sort of technique is that?” Ginger asked Maggie as she rolled her paint roller
across the faded chartreuse wall, covering it in a happy shade of Aqua Chiffon.

Maggie looked at her, and it took a few seconds for Ginger’s question to register.
Her brain was buzzing not only with what Doc had told her this morning but also from
her conversation with Sam. He still had feelings for her.

It made her dizzy to even think about it, and what was she supposed to say to Pete,
who had been nothing but nice and charming? She had agreed to go to dinner with him.
He didn’t deserve to be compared to some ghost from her past, even if the ghost was
back and living in town again.

“Maggie.” Ginger snapped her fingers in front of Maggie’s face. “Where are you, girl?
You are not listening to a word I say, and you’re wasting paint.”

Maggie shook her head. “Sorry.”

“You only have so much paint to cover this shop, and
you’ve got that roller loaded. Your walls are going to get that stripy-blotchy look.”

Ginger took the roller out of Maggie’s hand and evened out the paint, then she handed
it back. “Do you want to talk while you paint?” Ginger asked.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder at Joanne and Claire. They had plugged in a portable
stereo and had Norah Jones blaring. Claire, who had a good voice, was singing along,
and Joanne, who had a terrible voice, was singing even louder, which made Maggie smile.

Should she confide in the Good Buy Girls? Not about Doc—that wasn’t her story to tell—but
about the mixed feelings she had for Pete and Sam. She felt ridiculous, like she had
regressed back to junior high school. She glanced at Ginger, who was looking at her
with concerned brown eyes. She had never told Ginger about Sam. Maybe it was time.

She leaned close to her friend, and said, “I dated Sam.”

“What?” Ginger asked, leaning closer. Joanne had just hit a particularly painful note,
drowning out Maggie’s words.

“Back in high school, I dated Sam,” Maggie said.

Ginger shook her head and frowned. “What? Hey, Joanne, Claire! Zip it!”

“What?” Joanne yelled. She put her paintbrush down and turned down the volume on the
stereo.

All three of them were staring expectantly at Maggie, and she gulped. Oh, she hadn’t
seen it going this way. How could she tell them? What would they think?

The door opened, and in walked Pete Daniels, carrying two carafes of what smelled
like coffee.

“I hope I’m not late,” he said. “I heard there was a painting party going on tonight.”

Maggie had never been so happy to see anyone in her
life. She jumped up from her spot on the floor and hurried across the room, dripping
paint as she went.

“Pete,” she said with a huge grin. “Come on in.”

His brown eyes crinkled in the corners, and his smile was warm, as if he had been
unsure of his greeting but was now feeling equal parts relieved and happy.

“I brought some reinforcements,” he said. “If that’s okay?”

“The more the merrier,” Maggie said.

Pete opened the door and in trooped Ginger’s husband, Roger, and their four boys;
Joanne’s husband, Michael, carrying two deli platters and bag full of hard rolls;
and Max Button.

“Wow!” Maggie had to admit she was impressed. “You weren’t kidding when you said you
brought backup.”

“Our pleasure,” Roger said as he kissed Ginger on the cheek.

“Indeed,” Michael said as he hugged Joanne close.

“Hi, Claire,” Max said. He gave her a warm smile, but there was no sign of the usual
worship he showed when he was near the librarian.

Maggie had wondered if Max’s powerful crush on Claire was still in existence; apparently
he was outgrowing it. Given that Claire had at least fourteen years on him, it was
a good thing.

“Okay, everyone, eat up,” Michael ordered.

The men descended onto the food like locusts while the women stepped back and let
them eat their fill.

“Come on,” Ginger said. “Let’s prep some paint trays. With this many hands we should
be done in no time.”