Angel's Rest (12 page)

Nic stood at the doorway. Forgoing her habitual ponytail, today her golden hair hung loose and flowing. She wore a long-sleeved, V-necked, forest-green sweater dress belted at the waist with a red Christmas-patterned
silk sash. The knit fabric clung to her full breasts and hugged her slim hips. The modest hem hit just below her knees and covered the tops of brown leather dress boots that sported three-inch heels.

Gabe swallowed hard and took his earbuds out of his ears.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, smiling. She wore lipstick, bright red lipstick that matched her sash. “Gabe, when you reach a stopping point, could you lend me a hand? I think I might have located the rest of Elizabeth Blaine’s journals in a box in the basement, but I need a piece of furniture moved so I can get to it. Would you help me?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh … sure. Let me wash this old paste off my hands. I’ll meet you down there in a few.”

“Thanks!” She flashed him a smile, her eyes gleaming with pleasure, then spun on those heels and disappeared from view—leaving Gabe standing frozen in place, unaccountably warm, uneasy and … 
holy crap …
turned on.

Guess it wasn’t broken after all.

Nic stubbornly refused to glance at her reflection as she crossed in front of the wall mirror on her way to the staircase leading to the basement. She refused to primp for him. Or flirt with him. He might be the hottest thing in a tool belt this side of the Continental Divide, but too bad, so sad for her. The man made it clear he wasn’t interested.

Oh, she’d caught him looking a time or two, but it never went further than that. His wounds seemed to need a medicine she simply didn’t have. Better that she keep Coach Romano as the object of her fantasies. It was safer that way. With her heart still tender from its mistreatment by Greg-the-Cheat Sullivan, she couldn’t afford any risky behavior.

She glanced down at Tiger, who’d followed her from Celeste’s suite, and said, “Maybe if I tell myself that often enough, I’ll get around to believing it.”

She opened the door to the basement, then, because it tended to flop around, propped it open with an old metal milk can half filled with rocks. At the top of the stairs, she flipped the light switch and made a mental note to ask Gabe about wiring the basement for more light. One bulb in that single socket didn’t get the job done, especially with snow and debris covering the basement windows, which was why she’d brought a flashlight with her. Unfortunately, thinking ahead didn’t do
her much good when Tiger came galloping down the stairs and bumped the back of her legs. Teetering, she grabbed for the handrail to keep from falling and dropped the flashlight in the process. “Tiger!”

At the bottom of the staircase he turned to look back up at her, his crooked tail waving a mile a minute as if to say,
Hurry up, Doc. Let’s explore!

“You are trouble, aren’t you?” she said, descending safely to where the dog stood. “Somebody needs to teach you some manners.”

She patted his head and scratched him behind the ears. He licked her hand, and she pushed him away when he tried to sniff her crotch. “Stop it, Romeo.”

She spied her flashlight and bent over to pick it up. Hearing a boot scrape on the staircase above her, she twisted her head to see Gabe standing motionless at the top of the stairs, watching her intently. Abruptly she snapped up straight. A flush warmed her cheeks, though she lifted her chin and brazened her way through the embarrassment by pretending it didn’t exist.

“Hey, Gabe. Thanks so much for helping.”

“No problem.”

Cavanaugh House’s basement was a warren of rooms packed to the ceiling with items that appeared to have no organization whatsoever. Gabe glanced around it and frowned. “Have you gone through all these boxes already?”

“No. We haven’t begun to tackle the basement yet. I hit pay dirt in a file upstairs. It’s an inventory dated 1936, and it’s going to be a great help.”

Gabe lifted an old snowshoe from the top of a box. “I’ll bet there’s a treasure trove of antiques down here.”

“That’s what makes this inventory job so much fun. It’s like Christmas every day.”

He set the snowshoe down abruptly. “So where’s this box?”

“This way.” She talked over her shoulder as she led him toward her target. “The inventory gave the description and location of a box containing the diaries, and when I came down to look for it, I was able to go right to it. I’m really excited, first because I’m hoping the diaries might solve the mystery of the Cellar Bride’s identity, and second because Sarah and Sage both had something else to do this afternoon, so I made this find without them. They’ll be so annoyed.”

“Competitive, are you?”

“Yep. Not as much as Sage, though. She’s ridiculous.”

Tiger brushed past Nic’s legs once again, and as he rooted between a steamer trunk and a stack of hatboxes, she pointed out the chifforobe that blocked access to a plain wooden crate marked
Blaine
. “That’s it. I haven’t unloaded the chifforobe yet. I didn’t expect you to come right down.”

“Let’s see how heavy it is. Maybe I can shift it out enough for you to slip back in there. You’re a little thing. It’ll probably be easiest to leave the box where it is and empty it rather than haul out the box.”

A little thing? Ordinarily she hated it when people called her that. Coming from Gabe, it sounded flattering.

She didn’t think he’d be able to budge the piece of furniture, however. It was solid mahogany, taller than he was, and filled to the brim. She had attempted to give it a push herself before going to him for help, and she’d failed to shift it at all. Positioned behind him, she watched him brace his legs and put a shoulder against the wardrobe. His jeans molded against his rear and the flannel shirt stretched across his broad shoulders as he put weight into the effort and strained. The furniture moved a good six inches.
My oh my. Bet even Coach Romano couldn’t do that
.

He braced himself again, pushed, and conquered another
six inches. Stepping back, he asked, “How’s that? Can you slip back there now?”

“Let me see.”

It was a squeeze, but she managed it—snagging her dress in the process. If she’d known she’d be putting her good clothes at risk by scuffing around in the basement, she wouldn’t have planned to go straight to tonight’s book club Christmas party from here. “I need something to pry open the box.”

“Here.” He removed a chisel and a hammer from his tool belt. “Hand me the flashlight.”

Nic went to work, and in minutes she’d pried the lid off the crate. Gabe aimed the flashlight toward it, and delight washed through Nic as she saw six stacks of leather-bound volumes that probably numbered twelve or fifteen deep. “Jackpot! I’ll bet Elizabeth Blaine kept journals for most of her life. Imagine the wealth of information about Eternity Springs in these volumes.”

“Do you intend to read all these?”

“Eventually. I’ve read the one volume we found, and it is fascinating. For now, though, I imagine Sarah, Sage, and I will divvy them up to see what we can find out about the big mystery.”

She reached into the box and began handing them to Gabe five or six at a time. He stacked them on the floor between a dress form and a steamer trunk. Tiger padded over to investigate. The dog was sniffing the stacks with interest when above them the lone lightbulb flickered once. Tiger’s head jerked up. Gabe glanced toward the socket. “I know there are lightbulbs upstairs, but do we have any down here?”

“Not that I’ve seen, no. I’ve intended to talk to the electrician about the light situation down here. We really need more than one light fixture.”

“It’s on the list.” When the light flickered a second
time, Gabe said, “Why don’t you hold the stack you have there, Nic, while I run upstairs and grab another—”

She heard a pop and the light went dark. The basement plunged into shadow, and Tiger let out a low-throated growl.

“Bulb,” Gabe finished on a sigh. “I’ll be right … whoa!”

Tiger yelped. Something crashed. Nic couldn’t see what happened, but based on the sounds, she made an educated guess. The dog must have tangled himself up with Gabe, one of them knocked over the dress form, and somehow the flashlight went flying. The available light shrank to what filtered through the open door at the top of the basement staircase and the little bit that made its way past the mostly blocked basement windows.

Tiger bumped into something else, and Nic heard the sound of shattering glass. The boxer howled and scrambled up the staircase. “That blasted animal,” Gabe muttered, following after him. “If he’s not careful, he’s going to … dammit!”

At the top of the stairs, the milk can teetered and fell. The basement door slammed shut.

Nic squeezed out from behind the wardrobe. It was too dark to see much of anything, but she could hear Gabe’s steps climbing the stairs. She waited for the squeak of the basement door. And waited. And waited.

Finally, Gabe said, “Nic? Tell me you have your cell phone on you.”

“Um, no. I don’t.”

“Are your girlfriends coming back tonight?”

Warily, she replied, “No, they’re not. Gabe? Are you telling me that we’re …?”

“Stuck.”

“The door?”

“Won’t open. I heard the latch fall. To complicate
matters, the hinges are on the other side, so I can’t take it off.”

Nic considered the situation. They were alone in the house. No neighbors lived on this side of Angel Creek. It wouldn’t do them one bit of good to yell for help. They were on their own. She stared up at one of the basement windows. “How about opening a window?”

“We’d likely have to break the glass. You’re little, but it might be a tight squeeze.”

My butt would get stuck and I’d smother in the snow
. “That’s probably not a good idea. Can we break the door down?”

“It’s a solid wood door. There’s not enough of a landing at the top of the staircase to put much muscle into it. The lack of light doesn’t help that prospect, either.”

Nic peered around for the flashlight. The stairs squeaked beneath Gabe’s feet as he descended them once again. She bumped her shins against the dress form and grumbled beneath her breath as she felt around in the dark so she could lift it out of the way. “This isn’t good, is it?”

“It’s inconvenient. We won’t freeze to death. I doubt we’ll be stuck down here until we starve. I don’t suppose you had any plans tonight that will cause someone to come looking for you when you don’t show up?”

Hope flickered. “I have a book club meeting. This month’s selection is my choice, and it’s our Christmas party. Everyone will wonder when I don’t show up.”

“That’s good.”

“They’ll call me.”

“What will happen when you don’t answer?”

“Well …” Nic sighed. “They’ll probably think I’m out on an emergency. I don’t answer the phone when I’m working.”

“Okay, what about tomorrow? Is someone expecting you somewhere?”

“I have clinic hours. I have an eight o’clock appointment to take the stitches out of Steve Cartwright’s hand. The idiot boy cut it on a skinning knife. I always leave a note on the door if I’m called out into the field, and Steve’s mom knows that. She’ll worry when she doesn’t find one. Someone will see my truck parked here in the drive, and they’ll definitely look for me here.” She followed the thought process further and murmured, “Your Jeep is here, too, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Great. Just great
. Nic wanted to bury her head in her hands and groan. The drive was clearly visible from the front windows at the Bristlecone, and Glenda Hawkins was one of the worst gossips in town. She would put two and two together and come up with a romantic assignation.

Gabe must have followed the direction of her thoughts. “That gonna be a problem for you?”

“Maybe the book club might come looking for me. They know I wouldn’t miss this month’s meeting. I had to fight for this pick.”

“What was it?”

“My pick?”

“Yeah.”

She hesitated, then named a classic historical romance novel from the 1970s and prepared to defend herself from derision. But once again Gabe Callahan surprised her. With a hint of wistfulness in his voice, he said, “My mom used to devour romance novels. She’d read two or three a week. I remember one weekend when my folks took us to Six Flags and to see a Rangers baseball game. My dad wouldn’t go near a roller coaster, but my mom was a roller coaster fiend. She made me and my brothers ride with her. That was cool. What wasn’t cool was standing in line with her while she had her head buried
in a romance novel. If that wasn’t bad enough, she even read at the baseball game.”

“I think I’d like your mom,” Nic said.

“She died the following year.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Gabe.”

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago.” He paused and turned the tables on her. “Tell me about your family. Someone mentioned your uncle was the town dentist?”

She wished the light was better so that she could read his expression. Was this an attempt to steer the conversation away from himself or was he truly interested? She suspected the former.

“Yes,” she replied, following his lead. “I was born in Missouri, but my mom and I moved here when I was nine to be close to her sister and her husband.”