Cover Story (20 page)

Dot scurried out to Jazlyn’s other side, throwing me a quick smile followed by a flash of confusion as she took in my coat. Then her attention was back on Jazlyn. “I’ll call the ambulance and tell the dispatcher you’re at a different house. Everything will be all right, dear. Don’t you worry.”

“I’m okay, really. I just wanted you to watch Cosmo and Deefer—I can’t leave her.”

“Of course we will,” Dot said as they practically carried Jazlyn along the path. I trailed behind, carrying the bag helpfully.

“What’s wrong with Deefer?” Simon asked.

They paused as they reached the porch. “She’s in labor,” Jazlyn said. “Hasn’t had any puppies yet, it could be a way off, but I know the signs of labor.” She grinned.

Simon laughed. “I’m sure you do.”

They settled Jazlyn into a lounge chair, elevating her legs with a footrest.

“I’ll go and get Deefer,” Simon said. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything.”

He set off out the door and, unsure of what to do, I put Jazlyn’s bag down against the wall.

“Jazlyn,” Dot said, “you should have stayed home and called us. We would have come down there.” Dot continued to fuss with cushions and the footrest.

“I appreciate that,” Jazlyn said, “but it was only two houses away. And I have time, really.”

“Well, everything will be all right now. Cosmo can play with Anna and have a sleepover like we planned.”

Then Dot picked up her cordless phone, keeping Jazlyn in her field of sight.

I got Jazlyn a glass of water, trying to do something useful, then stood watching the scene unfold, hearing the children’s laughter and chatter from down the hall. What was my role here? I’d had a clearly defined role when I’d been the journalist investigating the gnomicides—I winced as I realized I’d never solved that mystery—and I had a kernel of hope of a future role in the lives of these people, but in that moment, I was nothing. I hated being nothing.

Although … there was something liberating about just
being
. I smiled.

“Sorry, have I caught you at a bad time?” Jazlyn’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Are you on your way out?”

I looked down at Grace’s coat. “Er, no. Just a quick stop here on my way home.”

Footsteps sounded on the stone porch outside and I looked up as Simon returned, carrying Deefer in a beanbag. He threw me an apologetic smile on his way past. He carefully placed Deefer’s bed in the corner of the room and Anna and Cosmo appeared and took over ministrations to her, under Dot’s guidance.

Then Simon grabbed my hand and pulled me across to the door, away from the small crowd. He drew me against him and whispered, “What were the two words, Tobi?”

I surveyed the room; everything seemed settled and Dot was on top of things. “It might be better if I do this differently. I have something to show you. Come back out to the porch.”

He grinned. “Sure.” He opened the door and led me to the porch. When the door shut, I pushed him against it, partly to keep it closed and avoid any more interruptions, partly because I wanted him there. Then I took a step back, and very slowly undid the buttons on the silver theatre coat.

Simon swallowed.

I opened the sides of the coat, and showed him the pink teddy, my heart in my mouth. “It’s the—”

“I know what it is,” he rasped. “It’s been haunting my dreams.”

He reached for me … just as I heard the tap tap of high heels heading our way. I frantically clutched the coat closed again and whipped around to see Grace.

I turned back to glare at Simon. “Why didn’t you tell me someone was there? I had my back to the pathway!”

His jaw dropped. “You expected I could see anything besides you? In that?” He gestured to where the teddy was covered by the disco-ball of a coat. “And that’s not mentioning the current lack of blood in my brain for any form of logical reasoning.”

Grace smiled broadly. “Hi, guys. I want you to meet my real estate agent. Mitchell, this is my sister, Tobi, and Simon.”

A real estate agent at this time of night? Only in Grace’s world was that reasonable. Or possible.

Mitchell shook our hands. “I’ve just shown Grace through number six next door, and we’ve filled out the paperwork for an offer.”

The door opened behind us and Dot’s head popped out. “Hello,” she said, smiling.

Simon gave his head a shake, as if resigned. “Mom, you remember Tobi’s sister, Grace. And this is Mitchell, Grace’s real estate agent. Grace is buying the Sinclairs’ house.”

Dot looked from me to Grace and back again with a grin more suited to finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. “It’s lovely to have a new neighbor we already know. Come on inside, I’ll put on a pot of tea.” She shuffled Grace and Mitchell inside, then turned back and grabbed my hand. “You, too, Tobi. Won’t this be wonderful?”

I glanced back at Simon, but he just shrugged and followed us in. “Oh, yeah, it’s marvelous,” I said.

Once Dot had introduced Jazlyn to the newcomers, she put on tea and began arranging a plate of cookies.

Grace sidled up to me, grinning. “You know, when I wear that coat, I usually wear more underneath.” She hadn’t even bothered to whisper.

I narrowed my eyes, aware I was on the back foot. I gripped the coat tighter around me, the bundle in the deep pocket digging into my hip.

Grace’s eyes drifted lower to my feet and her eyes widened. My gaze snapped down and my stomach plummeted. I’d worn one brown and one navy shoe. Both court shoes, sure, but different colors nonetheless. Grace giggled.

“So, Grace,” I said, moving the conversation away from my footwear, “what did you have to do to convince a real estate agent to come out on a Saturday night?”

Grace held back another grin, not offended in the least. Then she casually looked around the room. “I have to apologize, Tobi doesn’t play well with others—all her school reports said so.”

I clenched my fists around the front of the coat I still had in a death grip, eyes fixed on the knife block on the kitchen counter. “So many knives, so little time,” I muttered.

A grinning Simon moved to my side and pulled me away. Grace barely noticed—she’d struck up a conversation with Jazlyn, who seemed remarkably composed, except for once or twice screwing her face up as if she was in pain. She probably was.

Simon turned my face with a finger under my chin, and wound an arm behind my back. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you—I found out something. Did you know you can stop a sneeze by pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth? I thought you might like another method of holding them back. For variety.”

Happiness burst through me like champagne bubbles. He wasn’t teasing—well, maybe a little—but that was a statement of acceptance if I’d ever heard one. Instead of trying to change me, he was accepting me—quirks and all. I leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. I wanted to kiss him more, but we had far too much of an audience.

As we broke away from the brief touch, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he spoke with a husky voice. “So I saw what you had to show me and I really want a better look later, but what were the two words?”

This time I wasn’t nervous. I was ready. “Come back out to the porch so we can talk uninterrupted.”

I opened the door just as Frank Porter, former state senator, was about to knock. He stood, knuckles still hanging mid-air.

“Um … Mr. Porter?” I looked behind him to an expressionless man in a dark suit, hands clenched in front of his jacket.

Frank smiled. “Oh, good. I’d hoped to find you here, Ms. Fletcher.”

“You did?” Was there any end to the bizarreness of the night? A woman and a dog in labor, a sister moving in next door to the man I loved, and now Frank Porter finds me late on a Saturday night when I’m trying to declare myself to Simon? Maybe the gods were trying to tell me something?

He held his hand out to Simon. “Sorry to arrive so late and unannounced. But I wanted to thank Tobi in person for her help and I heard she was leaving the state tomorrow.”

Simon shook the outstretched hand. “No inconvenience at all.”

Was he insane? Two words. All I wanted was the time to say two measly words!

Frank swung his hand to me after shaking Simon’s. “I really am grateful, Ms. Fletcher. To say these last few years have been absolute torment for me would be an understatement and I’d still be in the midst of it if it weren’t for you. I can’t thank you enough.”

Touched, despite my impatience to be alone with Simon, I clasped my other hand around his and held it tight. “You’re very welcome.”

He took his hand back. “I do have some positive news—I’m running for Governor.”

“Congratulations,” Simon said.

“You’ll make a great governor,” I said. “I spent a lot of time going through your political history and you were doing great work before your wife … um …” I let my words trail off, mortified that I’d unthinkingly mentioned something that must be intensely painful. I mean, his own wife?

Frank sucked in a deep breath, then let it out through his front teeth. “Don’t worry, I’ll have to get used to journalists making mention of it. I’m getting counseling and I’ll get better at reacting by the time I face the frenzy.”

“Still, I’m sorry,” I said. Simon put an arm around me and gave my shoulder a little squeeze.

“No, really, the media’s never going to let it go, so I have to develop a thick skin about it. In fact, here’s another tidbit for you—I’m sure it’ll be all over the papers soon enough—my wife got the idea from an Agatha Christie novel.”

I spluttered a laugh, but then stopped, trying to retain a professional demeanor, mirror-ball dress notwithstanding. “Can I ask a question? How did you know I’d be here?”

“My personal assistant found you. She called the paper and your editor, Kevin, passed on your sister’s number and your sister told us you were here.”

So, Grace had known all along this is where I was headed? I looked over my shoulder at her and she winked then went back to patting Jazlyn’s hand.

I saw Dot ambling over, ready to greet her new guest. Again, Simon did the introductions. “Mr. Porter, this is my mother, Dot. Mom this is our next state governor, Frank Porter, and …”

“And Travis,” Frank supplied.

“Lovely to meet you.” Dot took Frank’s outstretched hand. “Two more for tea and cookies?”

“Hmm—that sounds good actually. You don’t mind? You seem to have a full house.”

“The more the merrier. Come on into the kitchen.” Dot turned to me. “Here, let me help you with that coat. It’s beautiful, dear, but you must be very hot.”

Like lightning, Simon sprang in front of me. “No. She gets cold. Very cold.” He held the coat firmly to my shoulders.

Dot’s brow puckered in confusion but she left with Frank Porter and his expressionless companion to tend to her full house.

Simon and I watched her go, looked at the assortment of people in his living and dining rooms, then turned to each other and burst out laughing. We leaned together for support as we laughed, then when it subsided, he pulled me over to the door and took both my hands in his.

“Don’t worry about what your words are—I have something to say.”

Suddenly the world stilled, and all I could see was Simon.

“I’ve been thinking,” Simon said, eyes locked on mine. “We can work it out—I could move. Anna hasn’t started school yet, so it’s easy to move her. Or we could visit each other until you’re ready to come back. When you haven’t had an assignment down this way for a while, I’ll go to you.”

He wanted to make it work? Even if I left? My heart thudded so loudly I was sure I could hear it. No, wait, that was more knocking on Simon’s front door.

I threw my hands in the air. “I thought this was a quiet street?”

His eyes danced. “It always was before you burst into our lives.” He kept one of my hands then used his free one to open the door.

“Hey, Fletcher.” Kevin thrust a hand at Simon. “Hanson.”

Simon shook Kevin’s hand then turned to me. “This one’s yours again, I think. I’ll leave you to speak and I’ll move Deefer into a quieter room. It seems my dining room isn’t the calm place I’d thought would suit a dog in labor.” He kissed my cheek.

“Nice coat, Fletcher.” Kevin didn’t seem to be looking at my attire though, his attention had been caught by the veritable Mardi Gras behind me. I supposed three women—one in labor—four men, two children and a dog—also in labor—would attract attention.

I frowned and gripped the coat tight again. As soon as I had a moment of privacy, I was buttoning that thing up again. “What can I do for you? No, wait, before you answer that, I want to say something: I don’t want to leave.”

He shrugged, still looking inside the house. “Okay, you can stay and have a political beat.”

That easy? After all these years of trying so hard? My mouth opened to accept before I caught myself. “No. What I’d like is to specialize in human interest stories,” I said. “Maybe have a column.”

He nodded. “Sure. That sounds good.”

A sense of calm and rightness engulfed me and I smiled. “How did you find me, anyway? No, wait, don’t tell me. Grace?”

“What makes you think I’m here for you?” He looked over my shoulder again to see inside. “Say, is Dot in there?”

“Er, yes …”

Barely looking at me, Kevin wandered past. I stood frowning after him until I saw Simon emerge from the hall and make his way over to me.

“Okay, Deefer’s settled and seems all right—”

As if on cue, an ambulance siren sounded in the distance. We turned to Jazlyn, who sighed with relief.

“I’ll get the bag,” I said.

The siren stopped as the ambulance pulled up on the street. Simon’s smile to me was filled with good-natured exasperation as he darted off to show the paramedics in. They were followed by Valentina, who’d obviously heard the siren from next door and had come for a look. The paramedics spoke quietly to Jazlyn then helped her stand and guided her out the door, then put her on a stretcher. Calls of encouragement and luck came from the assorted crowd. I watched Simon walking with them—just his style, in case they needed help opening doors or anything.

I loved that man.

I had to tell him what I’d come here for and, the way the night was progressing, I probably wouldn’t get a better time. Hoisting the bag over my shoulder, I moved over closer to him.

I grabbed his wrist then blurted, “Look, this isn’t the way I wanted to tell you, but my two words were, 
‘
I’m ready
’
”.

Simon’s eyes blazed. Then he rushed ahead to hold the gate open. As I walked through in my turn, he said, “We’ll get back to this very soon.”

While the paramedics loaded Jazlyn in, Liz and Rafaella joined us.

“Is everything all right?” Rafaella asked me.

“Yes,” I replied. “It all seems fine, she’s just ready to go.”

Simon came and took Jazlyn’s bag from me and handed it to the ambulance officers, then we waved as they drove away. Dot stood on the porch with Anna’s hand in one hand and Cosmo’s in the other, telling them everything was okay and when Cosmo’s mother came back, she’d have Cosmo’s new little brother or sister for them to play with.

Valentina appeared at our sides. “I’m just popping home to get some corn chips and salsa, and a nice chocolate cake I baked this afternoon.” She turned to face Liz and Rafaella. “Dot said I was to invite you in—it seems we’re having a bit of a party.”

Liz and Rafaella exchanged a glance and nodded. “Thanks, Valentina,” Rafaella said. “We’d love to. But we’ll come and help you carry your treats first.”

I turned to Simon, who I knew stood behind me. “Alone at last,” I whispered.

“Don’t count your chickens.” He chuckled. “I see the boys from the corner coming over. Nothing like a siren to bring out the curious.”

Sure enough, Laurie, Lukas, Pedro, and Davo were walking past the Sinclairs’—or was that Grace’s?—yard. One of them let out a wolf whistle and I frowned.

“Your coat,” Simon whispered in my ear.

Oh. That’s right. I’d forgotten for a second how ludicrous I looked.

After Simon explained Jazlyn’s ambulance trip to the boys, he invited them in—and why not? The rest of Santa Fe was already inside.

We walked the familiar path across the porch and through the front door. The impromptu party was in full swing. Grace was on the floor playing a game with Anna and Cosmo. Kevin had bailed Dot up in the kitchen—not that Dot seemed to mind, she was fluttering her lashes at him. Frank Porter was deep in conversation with Grace’s real estate agent, his expressionless companion standing at his side, surveying the room. The boys from number two easily doubled the noise quotient as they assimilated themselves—Davo to join the games with Grace and the kids, while Laurie, Lukas, and Pedro head straight for the kitchen with hopeful expressions.

Simon checked on Anna, then joined me in time to be greeted by the returning Liz and Rafaella, who carried the baked goods toward the kitchen. Valentina brought up the rear.

“Simon, dear, you’ll need to give Ethel a hand. She’s at the bottom of the driveway with Gerald in a wheelchair.”

“Gerald?” Simon’s voice was urgent as he strode out the door to his father-in-law’s side. I followed. 
“What are you doing here?”

Gerald smiled slowly. “We were out front watching the ambulance. We ran into Valentina. She said there was a get-together. I thought I’d come.”

Simon shook his head. “You’ll have to give me a moment to process this—it’s just too bizarre. I can’t remember the last time you said that much in a row. I had no idea you were even capable of it anymore.”

He took over pushing the wheelchair and wheeled Gerald into the house before transferring him into the lounge chair Jazlyn had vacated.

Gerald wiggled a little to get comfortable. “Who are all these people?”

Simon ran through the list of names, still shaking his head in bewilderment.

“Hang on,” Gerald said. “Did you say Grace?” He turned to me. “Your sister Grace?”

“Um … yes?”

“I’d like to meet her. Anna talks about her a lot.” He gripped my hand. “Not as much as she talks about you, of course, Tobi.”

“Of course.” I looked questioningly at Simon, who shrugged, and I went to get Grace.

While Grace chatted with Gerald, the gathering turned into more of a party. Someone had found some old rock ’n’ roll music and the boys had managed to procure cans of beer. Then Frank Porter tapped the side of his glass with a spoon from the dessert spread.

“While you’re all assembled here, I’d like to say something. I’ve been hearing the most amazing stories tonight. I think you all know what Tobi Fletcher’s articles have meant to me, but many of you have told me tonight of the impact her stories have had on you and this street. Tobi, I hope you’re aware of the depth of gratitude and love for you in this room.”

A snort came from the corner, but I couldn’t see who’d made the sound.

Lukas raised his beer can. “Here’s to Tobi!”

Others joined in the cheer and the whole room raised their various drinks. Behind the cheers I heard the snort again. And I wasn’t the only one.

“Is there something you wanted to say, Ethel?” Dot asked from beside her.

The room fell quiet as all eyes turned to the two women.

Ethel’s eyes darted around then landed on me and narrowed. “I don’t understand this congratulating the journalist. All she did was her job. The person you should be thanking is the one who started all this—the one who smashed the gnomes.”

“Thank the gnome-smasher?” asked Davo, clearly confused.

“Yes!” Ethel cried. “Tobi just told the story. The person who smashed the gnomes created it!”

“That’s just stupid,” said Laurie.

“Why? It was a simple chain of events, which led to something good for just about everyone here. And it started with one person smashing three stupid little plaster gnomes.”

“Know something about it, Ethel?” I asked.

“Yes, Ethel,” said Valentina, “you seem to have given this a lot of thought.”

Ethel’s eyes darted round the room again and the crowd stilled, as if everyone had come to the same conclusion.

“You’re the gnome-smasher!” Davo called out.

“Sure enough,” Valentina said. “I should have put it together sooner. You know I don’t like to say anything bad about my neighbors—”

“Of course you don’t, dear,” Dot said.

“–but I
have
heard semi-regular smashes coming from next door,” Valentina continued. “I always put it down to Gerald knocking something over, but now …”

Ethel opened her mouth to speak, but Dot spoke over the top of her. “And, Ethel dear, you must admit you have a little problem with frustration. Really, when have any of us heard you say something nice about someone? Oh, yes,” she waved her hand, “you’re polite, but you’re always annoyed at one of us.”

“Frustration is held-back anger,” Grace contributed helpfully.

“Yeah,” Laurie chimed in, “and she hates us guys. Never tried to hide it.”

Ethel muttered something, which may have been about long-haired hoods, but I could’ve been wrong because at that moment the room erupted in a cacophony of voices. Everyone seemed to have an opinion or anecdote to add. With sixteen adults—not counting me—two kids and a heavily panting dog all contributing to the noise level, it became louder and louder.

Oh, this was getting ridiculous. I should do something. Except I wasn’t really sure what, I just knew the noise was giving me a headache.

I stepped into the center of the room and held up a hand. “A-hem.” Some of the noise dulled. “A-hem,” I repeated. The room quietened.

I’d suspected from early on that one of the residents had been the culprit, and though it was sad to say, I’d be glad if it did turn out to be Ethel. Not that I had anything against her personally, but it meant that it cleared all the other residents. Actually, I’d have preferred to pin it on Martin Sinclair, but if Ethel was actually guilty, I was fine with that.

Grace stepped into the middle of the room, beside me. “If I may?” she said. She nodded once and winked, like we had some kind of secret sisterly language of signals—which, come to think of it, would be nice. I returned the nod and stepped back into the crowd.

“Ethel,” Grace said, looking like a school principal talking to a naughty student. “Do you have something to tell the group?”

Ethel rolled her eyes. “Okay, I smashed the damned gnomes. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

A collective gasp traveled around the group, more, I assumed, from Ethel’s complete lack of remorse in her announcement than surprise—I think even Deefer had guessed by now.

“What?” Ethel threw up her hands. “Listen to you people complaining about a few smashed gnomes!
Look
at the good it’s done you all. You should be thanking me, not condemning me.”

“And,” Davo said, “that’s why I didn’t see her the night the other one was smashed. I got to the window quick enough to see someone run down the street, but
not
duck back next door!” He rocked back on his heels, pleased with his deduction.

People started calling out again, but Grace held up her index finger and they instantly fell silent. She clasped her hands behind her back, leaning over a little and resembling a school principal even more. Or maybe an old time movie detective. Whatever it was, she was clearly in her element.

“So, Ethel, you’re proud of what you’ve achieved?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? None of these people could work their way out of a paper bag before I did this for them.”

More interruptions erupted from the crowd, but Grace’s index finger brought instant calm. “And I bet you feel pretty damn proud of outsmarting everyone here, too?”

“Well, it wasn’t like anyone came
close
to working it out.” Her chest puffed out a good inch. “I created a worldwide phenomenon and not one of you guessed it was me.”

“Yes,” Grace said. “Very clever. So, this smashing thing you do—is it often?”

“What?” Ethel said.

Grace rounded on her. “Here’s how I see it—correct me if I’m wrong. Your neighbors say you have some frustration—I wonder if any would even go as far as bitterness?” Grace twirled around on the toe of her high heel, assessing the crowd. Several nodded. Ethel rolled her eyes again.

“So, we have a bitter woman who takes to smashing things?” Grace placed a finger against her cheek, as if pondering the issue. I held back a laugh—she’d always had a flair for the dramatic. “Usually only in the house, though. And you must normally cover it up for no one else to have noticed. Gerald, does this sound right?”

Sitting in his lounge chair, Gerald chuckled. “Yes.”

“Right.” Grace stood straighter. “Now here’s where I’m going to hypothesize. I think you’re a smashaholic.”

“A
what
?” Ethel’s voice was equal parts surprise and outrage.

“A smashaholic,” Grace replied calmly. “When you can’t cope, you smash things to feel better.”

Most of the crowd had folded arms and were nodding along, as if it made complete sense. Which it kinda did in a strange way. I looked over at Simon, who was watching me but was clearly amused by the whole exchange.

“You normally indulge inside the house,” Grace continued, “but one time you let loose and smashed three gnomes. Then another one.”

“This is absurd.” Ethel tapped her foot on the carpet.