Consequence (11 page)

“Good. Then I’ll talk to you later.” He
removed her hands from around his neck, placed them on the
headboard, and then backed away. “After all the heavy stuff is
gone.”

Bridget watched him buckle his belt and check
his holster and gun. “Fine. Run away,” she teased. “You’ll be
back.”

Boone flipped his collar and closed his
jacket, tugging on the zipper. “Tell you what: I’ll bring dinner
home tonight. Chinese take-out?”

“Sounds good. I’ll have ...”

“... Sweet and sour pork and a spring roll. I
know. Bye, sweetheart. Have a good day,” he said, leaning in for a
second kiss.

Bridget balanced the old wooden headboard and
watched as Boone walked through the kitchen to the back door,
pausing to pet Squirt and shake a finger at Morty before walking
out into the breezeway. She listened for the familiar sound of his
cruiser engine revving before she lifted the piece of furniture and
leaned it with the footboard against the wall.

It felt right.

When Alvin Peachy stopped by with his
half-ton truck, Bridget sent away more than her parent’s bedroom
furniture. She packed off half the house and spent the afternoon at
Peachy’s with Billy Peachy, who ran the styling salon. Although
Billy worked with hair and beauty products, while in college he
majored in interior decorating. He had a vast collection of
magazines. By the time Bridget left the small shopping center, she
had a new hairstyle, several bags of groceries, numerous cans of
paint from Peachy’s hardware store and an assortment of rollers and
brushes.

Billy wouldn’t let her tear up any of his
magazines, but he loaned her a few of the dog-eared issues. She
soon had an idea of how the new bedroom would look and she couldn’t
wait to show Boone.

Curled up in one of the two remaining chairs
in the den, she flipped through the pages of a furnishings catalog
and waited for Boone to come home.

Lost in thought, she didn’t hear his cruiser
in the driveway or the closing of the kitchen door. She jumped when
he called out in the gloom: “Hey, what happened here? Did you get
robbed?”

She followed the sound of his voice, finding
him at the foot of the stairs, a worried frown creasing his
forehead. The formal dining room table, chairs and buffet were
gone, along with the painted plate collection her mother left
behind. The large den was bare, with all the furniture and the
carpet gone. The remaining furniture was the large easy chair Boone
favored and an antique wingback. A lamp perched on an upturned
cardboard box between the two chairs.

Bridget swirled in the vast open space, her
arms outstretched. “I told you, I’m inspired! I sent it all with
Alvin. Billy Peachy and I spent the afternoon looking at paint
chips and fabric swatches. Alvin’s guys are coming back tomorrow to
start painting.”

“But, what about furniture?”

“That’s the best part. I have a couple of
catalogs Billy loaned me and I want you to look through them with
me.”

Boone grimaced. “That’s the best part?”

“Come on,” Bridget cajoled. “It’ll be fun.
And no, looking through the catalog isn’t the best part. The best
part is me ordering the furniture through the online store and
having it delivered and set up by the company.”

“So, no work is required of me in this
redo?”

“Not at all,” she said, grinning. “Well,
unless you want to bend your elbow and hand me your credit
card.”

“That, I can do.”

“I’m getting the distinct impression that
you’re not a handyman,” Bridget said.

“Correct. I’m a lawman. I maintain
order.”

“You don’t do any housework? How about the
yard? Exactly what am I getting into here?”

“I’ll buy a tractor and cut the lawn. I’ll
shovel snow, if I have to. I prefer to have the township crew come
by and take a little detour up the driveway.”

“Isn’t that misappropriation of funds?”

“Not at all. The chief has to have ready
access to his car. It’s one of the perks of the job.”

Bridget sidled up wrapped her arms around
Boone’s waist. “Will you wash dishes?”

“Occasionally. Don’t you have a dishwasher?
Tell you what, you cook and I’ll load the dishwasher.”

She laid her head on his chest, the silver
badge cool on her cheek. “My hero.”

Boone feigned interest in the selections
Bridget chose and after dinner, they retired to her sunroom to
order their new furniture.

“No wicker,” he said.

Bridget turned on the computer and opened the
web browser to the furniture store’s online catalog. “Except in my
sunroom,” Bridget countered.

“Just don’t embarrass me and Morty. We have
to maintain our reputations as tough guys. Can’t do it with floral
bedspreads and too many throw pillows. And what do you call that? A
sham? What the heck is that?” he asked, pointing at a catalog
page.

“It’s a fancy pillow cover you take off
before you get in bed,” Bridget said absently, clicking through the
web site.

“Why would you take the cover off a pillow
and then sleep on it?”

“It has another pillow case under it,
silly.”

Boone shook his head and muttered under his
breath. He stood and stretched, then walked around the desk to look
at the books along the wall in the sunroom. The old shelves reached
to the ceiling and titles ranged from gardening to woodworking, to
out-of-date encyclopedias. There were hundreds of novels from a
book-of-the-month club.

Bridget looked over the computer screen at
Boone. “Aren’t you going to help me?”

“I thought that’s what we did an hour ago,”
he said, sliding his hands out of the back pocket of his jeans and
selecting a book about wooden sailboats.

“The catalog is a year old. What if they
don’t have the same thing?” she said, her eyes pinned on the
computer screen. “Oh wait. Here it is. Never mind.”

Boone’s cell phone rang, rattling on the
kitchen table where he’d left it. “Back in a minute,” he said.

Bridget raised a hand in farewell, her
attention focused on the furniture choices. The couple decided to
keep the new decor consistent with a Pennsylvania farmhouse,
favoring traditional, rustic wood furniture. By the time Boone
returned, she had filled the virtual shopping cart with items for
the living room, dining room, bedroom and her home office.

“For the love of God, stop me,” she begged.
“It’s more than $20,000 and I haven’t even selected throw pillows
and duvets yet.”

Boone’s eyebrows lifted. “How much did Alvin
pay you for the old furniture?”

Bridget grimaced. “He didn’t. I almost had to
pay him to haul it away. I traded what little he offered for free
paint instead.”

At Boone’s scowl, she added, “Oh, and the
paint crew. He’s sending them over to paint the place.”

When he still didn’t respond, Bridget pulled
out her ace. “The company’s offering free shipping and a twenty
percent discount on orders over $10,000.”

“Oh, well. That’s okay then,” he mocked.
“Bridget, it’s fine. If it makes you happy, then let’s do it.
Whatever it takes to get a decent-sized bed in this house.”

“I selected the California king,” she
offered. “It’s longer than the normal king bed.”

“Let’s not put it on credit,” Boone said,
withdrawing his wallet. “Use this card. It’s my savings
account.”

“I don’t want to use your savings, Boone! I
can pay for the furniture.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s our furniture, right?
Besides, the money is from the accident. I’ve never touched it.
Might as well use it.”

Bridget’s eyes softened. “Are you sure? I
know this is spontaneous and even I’m a bit dizzy with the thought
of changing the place, but I won’t do it unless you’re okay. I
don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Just leave the recliner in the den. Promise
me it won’t get hauled out anytime soon,” he bargained.

Bridget reached for the card. “I
promise.”

Billy Peachy closed his salon the day
Bridget’s furniture arrived. Standing in the middle of the house,
he directed movers like a traffic cop. By mid-afternoon, the
furniture was in place, new prints hung on freshly painted walls,
and a busy Bridget placed books on her new office wall unit.

Billy recommended large area rugs to
complement the new decor, and placed them beneath the new
benchwright dining table and chairs. A new buffet flanked the
wall.

The long sectional sofa and side tables
rested upon a new sage-green carpet. In the foyer by the
seldom-used front door, Billy arranged the wrought iron hall tree.
The matching coat hook hung in the kitchen by the back door.

A handcrafted Hudson bed dominated the master
suite, leaving little floor space for the extra wide dresser, the
chifforobe and side tables. As agreed, no florals, shams or extra
throw pillows were in the mix, and Bridget had foregone wicker for
her office for an impressive wood desk and cabinets.

When Boone arrived, his smile and tender kiss
thrilled her. “So you like it?”

Boone shook Billy’s hand and didn’t resist
when the slight man pulled him closer for the traditional “guy
hug,” which consisted of a light grip of the hand and a quick pat
on the back.

“I never imagined the old place could look
this good,” he said, turning in a slow circle. He grinned when he
noticed the new, matching beds for Morty and Squirt. “You even
color-coordinated the dogs. I’m impressed.”

“Tell the truth,” Billy demanded. “You’re
more than impressed. You’re grateful you didn’t have to do
anything.”

“Except pay for it all,” Bridget
interjected.

“Well, think I’ll be heading back to Peachy’s
now,” Billy said, rubbing his neck. “Maybe Cousin Jimmy has an
opening. I could use a massage.”

“Sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?”
Bridget asked. “I’m getting ready to call for pizza.”

“No thanks, doll. This was fun, but I’ve got
to go. You two enjoy your new place tonight,” he said with a
wink.

Bridget walked her friend to the backdoor and
returned a moment later. She slid into Boone’s embrace. “It is
beautiful, isn’t it? I’m so happy we did this. I didn’t realize I
was holding on to the past until I finally let it go.”

He gave her a tight squeeze, lifting her off
her feet. “Yes, it’s more comfortable than I thought it would be.
Let’s go check out the new bedroom. Been thinking about it all day.
Finally, a bed where my feet won’t hang over the edge.”

“What about dinner?”

“Later,” he promised, drugging her with a
kiss.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“What?” Fiona’s voice screeched through the
telephone line. “You’re getting married and this is the first I’ve
heard about it?”

Bridget took a deep breath. “Relax Mom; it’s
not going to happen anytime soon. We’re talking about it. We
haven’t set a date.”

“But I didn’t even know you and Boone were
seeing each other. I mean, romantically. I thought you were just
friends. When did this happen?” Fiona demanded.

When, indeed?

“We’ve always had feelings for each other,
Mom. You know we dated in high school. It’s evolved into something
deeper during the past year. He’s moving in this weekend.”

“What does Carlina have to say about this?”
Fiona asked. “Never mind, I’ll give her a call and we’ll talk about
it ourselves.”

“Don’t you do that, Mom! Boone has told her
yet.”

Shoot. She hadn’t even thought about the
Boone family and their reactions. She had to tell Fiona, who called
at least once a week to catch up on the latest news of Eaton. Fiona
missed the small town of her youth and kept up with all community
happenings, calling her daughter and her old friends on a regular
basis.

“What? He hasn’t told his own mother?” Fiona
asked, aghast. “For once, I know something Carlina Boone doesn’t
know? Yippee!”

“Hey, Mom, I have to go. The UPS guy is at
the door. I have to sign for a package,” Bridget lied. “Tell Fred I
said ‘hello’ and I’ll talk to you soon. And don’t call anyone with
the news yet, okay? We’re keeping it quiet for now.”

“My only child is getting married ...”

“Some day. Not any time soon!”

“... and I can’t tell anyone? That’s not
fair!” Fiona wailed.

“I mean it, Mom. Not a word to anyone. Let
Boone and I sort this out first. I’m a bit overwhelmed as it is. I
didn’t expect this to happen.”

“How could you not expect it if you’ve been
dating?” Fiona was curious now. “You did say you’ve been seeing him
for the past year.”

“Seriously, Mom. I’ve got to go. The UPS guy
is knocking on the door and Morty is going crazy,” Bridget said,
walking towards the small dog’s bed and upending it with her foot,
a tactic that sent Morty into a barking frenzy. “Bye Mom. Love
ya.”

She hung up the phone and pacified the alert
and trembling mongrel. “Relax, Morty. I’m sorry.”

She bent over and straightened out the dog’s
bed and placed the frayed blanket onto the cushion. The indignant
Morty sniffed and walked around the bed several times before
settling down.

Bridget picked up a steno pad. She’d been
working her way through a series of keywords during her Internet
search throughout the morning, but Fiona’s call rattled her.

She didn’t want to lie to her own mother, but
Boone’s energetic seduction and their ensuing relationship had her
head spinning. It was hard to believe two weeks ago she spent a
lonely Christmas in Boston. Now, she would never be alone again.
She had Boone.

Instead of reading web pages, searching for
clues on the whereabouts of Ethel Jefferson, she sat in her chair
and stared at the new built-in bookcase. Her eyes glazed at the
thought of Boone and a wedding. She tried to imagine the old
farmhouse filled with people. Boone came from a huge family and he
would want children. Right?