Grace Takes Off (19 page)

We talked a little more about our harrowing experience on the plane and Pinky’s possible
motives. I made a mental note to contact Detective Williamson at my earliest opportunity,
but when I asked about him again, Adam shifted positions and shrugged. It was clear
there was little more I’d be able to glean from this line of conversation. And if
Adam couldn’t help me, I saw no need to keep talking.

I stood. “Wow, Adam, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you coming all the way
out here to give me this update.”

He got to his feet, looking shocked at the abrupt end to the conversation. His gaze
fell to the flowers on the table, as though asking them for advice.

Here it comes.
Staving off what I knew was coming, I plastered on a cheerful smile and pointed toward
the door. “We’ll be shutting down soon. You wouldn’t want to be trapped.” I winked.
“Lots of history in this house. You never know when you might encounter a ghost.”

“I’ll bet you could get out,” he said with a sly smile. “I’m sure you’ve got all the
codes and keys. Am I right?”

Zing.
I felt the hot warning shoot up my back. “Nope,” I lied. “Security handles all that.
I have to go through them for everything.”

I picked up my flowers and led the way out. As we walked back to the front of the
home, uniformed guards walked by in sets of two, giving credence to my fib. They were
doing a final sweep of the grounds before locking the tourist sections up for the
night. Doris had closed up the front desk. “Leaving so soon?” she asked Adam with
a not-so-subtle eyeball of the flowers. “I thought you might be here for the weekend.”

“Nope,” I said, heading off any chance of that conversation gaining traction. To Adam,
I said, “It was so nice of you to stop by. You’ll let me know if you hear anything
else about Pinky or if you hear more from Williamson, won’t you?”

“Sure.”

I waited for him to leave. He didn’t.

Doris had stopped what she was doing and was watching with undisguised interest.

“Uh,” Adam said. “I forgot to ask. Do you know of any good places to eat? I don’t
plan to leave until tomorrow morning.”

“Doris,” I said, “do you have any of those Emberstowne pamphlets we used to keep back
there?”

She grumbled about having already locked up, but pulled out her keys and obliged us.
“Here you go,” she said as she opened the fold-out map and pointed. “Your best bet’s
here,” she said, “on Main Street. But you better get moving. All the good places crowd
up quick on the weekends.”

“Thank you.”

Doris locked up again in a hurry this time, as though she was afraid I might ask for
another small favor. She came around the desk and started toward the back of the house,
where there was a passage to the employees’ underground garage. She raised a hand
over her head. “See you Monday, Ms. Wheaton.”

“Good night,” I said to her back.

The giant house fell suddenly silent when she disappeared around the far corner. All
the security guards were off to their posts. “Thanks again for coming,” I said.

Adam looked around. “Sure gets quiet here fast.”

“It’s a big house.”

He took that in. “Lots of secrets in these walls. I can feel them.”

He may not have meant his comment to sound menacing, but it did. “The front gates
are locked up,” I said. “There’s one last shuttle waiting outside for an all-clear
from security. You’ll want to grab that one, or you’ll be stuck here all night.”

He got an amused look on his face, but didn’t share whatever had put it there. Slapping
the booklet against his palm, he said, “I guess I’ll go then.” He seemed to be waiting
for me to stop him. I stepped to the side and opened the front door. As promised,
the white shuttle bus idled outside.

He started out, but stopped and turned in the doorway. “I came all this way to ask
you something I should’ve asked you back in that waiting room when we landed.”

Here it comes.

He worked up a shy smile. “Are you . . . single?” He was either sincere or one heck
of a great actor. I wondered, briefly, if I wore a flashing neon sign that read “GULLIBLE”
in all caps over my head.

“I’m . . .” How to answer? Without a quick quip at my disposal, I opted for the truth.
“I’m not in a relationship at the moment. But that . . . may change.”

He tilted his head. “Oh?”

I wasn’t about to explain my situation with Jack. I shrugged. “Time will tell.”

“I guess asking you to dinner tonight would be out of the question then.”

“I . . .”

“One dinner couldn’t hurt? Could it?”

“I’m sorry. I have plans.”

He smiled and nodded. “Thanks for talking.” He held up the Emberstowne pamphlet. “See
you around.”

JACK’S OFFICE WAS DARK BY THE TIME I GOT
there. The tiny, candy-apple red storefront trimmed in bright white had lush greenery
spilling from wide flower boxes beneath its picture window. I’d been afraid of this.
Adam’s unexpected appearance had done more than rattle me; it had thrown me off schedule.
I’d intended to talk with Jack here, alone, quietly.

I’d counted on it being a Friday night and there not being a lot of last-minute business.
I could say what I had to say then take my leave. Topmost on my list was letting him
know that I missed his friendship. I didn’t harbor hope of Jack jumping at the chance
to rekindle whatever we thought we might have had at one point, but I wanted to plant
the seed. Seeing as how Jack had been Marshfield’s landscape architect until very
recently, the analogy felt apt.

It had taken every ounce of courage and belief in myself to bring me to this moment.
Now that I’d made the decision to talk with Jack, I chafed at the delay.

A shadow crossed the back of the office. I cupped my hands to peer in through his
front window. Maybe he was still there.

The shadow stopped moving, then waved and made its way forward.

Jack’s younger brother, Davey, opened the office front door, causing the bells overhead
to jingle a hello.

“He’s gone for the day, Grace. Anything I can do for you?”

Davey was kind enough not to make a big deal out of my unexpected appearance at Jack’s
front door. Davey had been witness to much of the trouble Jack and I had gone through,
and I believed he, too, was hoping we’d find common ground.

After a harrowing escape from a dire situation not all that long ago, Davey had gone
to work for Bennett as a personal assistant. From all accounts, that was working out
wonderfully for both of them. “What are you doing here tonight?” I asked. “I thought
you gave up garden work.”

“Jack couldn’t open a few documents on his computer. Turns out he needed a software
upgrade. Simple fix. Now he can get back to studying.”

“How is he managing to keep the business going and study for his law degree at the
same time? That’s got to be tough.”

Davey gave a sad smile. “He’s been through tougher.”

We both knew what he meant. Taking my leave, I said, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Jack’s at Hugo’s,” Davey said. “At the bar. I told him I’d meet him when I was done,
and I’d planned to head over there now. If you don’t mind, maybe you could stop by
and let him know his computer’s all set.”

“Davey . . .” He was setting me up and we both knew it.

“You’d be doing me a huge favor. Honest.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“Come on.” Davey grinned. He looked so much like his brother, it took my breath away.
“Hugo’s is only a couple of blocks away. What can it hurt?”

• • •

I STEPPED OUT OF THE WANING SUN INTO THE
relative cool and low-lit Hugo’s. The young hostess greeted me with an expectant look
and a bright smile. I pointed and said, “Going to the bar.”

“No problem, have a nice time.”

I scooted around her and made my way past the few tables up front, taking pains to
avoid making eye contact with anyone. This wasn’t my ideal scenario for a talk with
Jack, and the fewer witnesses, the better. I hoped to sneak in unobtrusively and sneak
out again without anyone the wiser. Although I didn’t know everyone in Emberstowne,
Frances had plenty of eyes and ears among the residents, all of whom seemed to know
that I was the manager of Marshfield.

The place was filling up quickly, as Doris had predicted. This was our town’s busy
season and by seven there would be lines out the door. I ducked around the next corner
into the bar area and spotted Jack right away.

He sat at the far end, near the wall, with about six empty stools between him and
the rest of the bar’s patrons. I decided there was enough piped-in music and ambient
noise to cover our conversation. The best I could hope for.

I took a deep breath, tugged at the hem of my blouse, and made my way over.

He had a beer in front of him, his arms stretched across the bar on either side of
his glass, his eyes forward. Lost in thought.

I slid onto the stool next to him. “Hey, Jack.”

He turned to me, startled. “Grace.”

“Davey said you’d be here. He asked me to tell you that your computer’s all set.”

“That’s great,” he said, blinking. “Where did you see Davey? Is he here?”

I was spared answering when the bartender meandered over. “What would you like?” he
asked.

Right about then I could have gone for a martini, or two, but decided this was better
done clearheaded. “Just water,” I said with an apologetic shrug. “I’m driving.”

“Driving?” Jack asked as the bartender filled a glass and placed it on the bar next
to me. I thanked him. “You’re not that far from home.”

“I’m here straight from work.”

He gave me a quizzical glance, but didn’t ask.

“I stopped by your office,” I began. “That’s where I ran into Davey.”

“You came to see me?”

Water was cool relief down my suddenly clogged throat. What had I been thinking coming
here?

“Trouble at Marshfield with the gardens?” he asked. “I checked in with Old Earl while
you were in Europe; he assured me there were no issues.”

I placed the glass back on the bar, keeping a grip on it. I studied my hand as though
it belonged to someone else. “No trouble. You left the place in pristine condition.
You trained the staff well. They’re keeping up.”

He took a deep drink of his beer. “Then this is a personal visit?”

“I guess it is.” There was no turning back now.

His eyes were clouded, sad. I didn’t know how to read that, although I clearly wasn’t
getting the positive vibe I’d hoped for. Expected, even. He ran a finger along the
J
-shaped scar on his cheek and I remembered him telling me how it got there. How his
life had spiraled out of control so many years ago. I thought about how my involvement
in his history had caused so much recent pain among his family. No matter what Bennett
said to the contrary, I felt responsible. I
was
responsible.

Maybe this had been a bad idea, after all.

Thank goodness for the dim lighting. My face had gone hot.

All the perfect phrasing I’d come up with earlier as I’d envisioned this moment was
lost when my words came out in a blurt. “I miss talking with you.”

The pain in his face dissolved. “I’ve missed talking with you, too.”

We suffered an awkward moment where we each took sips of our drinks and then both
started talking at the same moment.

“How was Europe?”

“What’s going on with you?”

We did that “laugh, No-you-go-first” thing. I insisted, and Jack asked me again about
Europe. I frowned.

“You didn’t enjoy yourself?” he asked.

“We had an incident on the way back,” I said. “Probably better if I tell you about
it another time.”

Concern jumped into his eyes. “Incident? Was anyone hurt?”

I nodded, realizing how good it would feel to be able to tell him about all that had
happened. “I think Bennett may be in danger.”

He stared. “You can’t say something like that and leave me hanging.”

My heart raced. I struggled to come up with the right way to ask if he’d like to come
back to the house to talk, or at least go somewhere quieter, when he interrupted.
“Maybe you could stop by the office again one of these evenings. Or I could visit
you at Marshfield.”

That wasn’t the sort of date I’d been hoping for. His eyes had taken on a dark melancholy.
I didn’t know why.

“Sure,” I said, knowing my disappointment showed.

“Grace,” he said, and the end of all my hope was in his voice. “I would love to talk
more about this . . .”

He was about to say “but,” when a slim, tanned arm snaked around the back of his neck.
The owner of the arm pulled him close. “Jack,” she said. “Who’s your friend?”

There was pain in his expression. Embarrassment for me, probably. Not like I needed
any help in that department. Mortification rose up as “Back off, he’s taken” vibes
rolled off her like steam out of an iron. She’d read my intentions, and she was clearly
staking her claim.

Curvy, with her extra weight in all the right places, she loosened her pull on Jack,
but stayed close enough so their shoulders touched. Her hair was short and spiky,
her dark eyes hot with curiosity. She wore tight jeans, cowboy boots, and a gauzy
white blouse over a bright pink tank.

“Becke, this is Grace. Grace, Becke.”

“Oh,” she said, stringing out the word into two syllables. “I should have guessed.
I’ve heard so much about you.”

So much for all my high hopes. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too,” I said, getting
to my feet. Thank heavens I hadn’t ordered anything. No need to fumble through my
wallet to settle up. “Here. You can have my seat. I was getting ready to leave anyway.”

She tilted her head. “That’s not how it looked to me.”

“Becke,” Jack said quietly.

There wasn’t a lot of room between us, so when she took a step forward, we were almost
nose-to-nose. She was about my height, but outweighed me by at least thirty pounds.
“Jack’s moving me into his house this weekend. Did he tell you?”

My face practically pulsed with heated humiliation. All I wanted to do was get out.
Now.

Barely aware that Jack had jumped off his stool and was speaking to Becke, chastising
her, it seemed, I drew on every reserve to force a smile. I might feel absolutely
stupid right now but there was no way I was going to let her think she’d had anything
to do with it. Nope. I’d managed to pull that off myself.

“I hadn’t heard. How wonderful. Congratulations to you both.”

Jack’s angry glare at Becke made me realize that he, at least, had hoped to spare
me this public degradation. Too late. Ignoring Becke, I faced him. “When you have
time, let me know. I’d still like to get your input on that other matter. But don’t
bother”—I sent a pointed look toward his companion—“unless you’ll be able to keep
it confidential.”

With that, I turned away and walked with purpose to the front door. Let Becke chew
on that for a while.

Stepping out into the evening air was like jumping into a dark pool on a hot night.
As Hugo’s door swung shut behind me, I held a hand against a light post and stared
up at the sky, filling my lungs with the fresh, humid air. “Why do I do these things
to myself?” I asked rhetorically.

Letting go of the post, I started for my car. The streets were busy with tourists
wandering in and out of the Main Street shops. As was my habit, I rehashed the conversation,
realizing that I was a little bit proud of myself for not backing down under Becke’s
withering gaze. “Let her have him,” I said aloud.

“Do you mean that?”

I spun to find Adam right behind me. As was obvious from his breathless question,
he’d run to catch up. “What are you—?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step back. “It’s just—” He jerked a thumb toward Hugo’s
behind us.

“You weren’t in . . .” I felt my face go red yet again. “You didn’t . . .”

He met my gaze, straight on. “I was having dinner. You obviously didn’t see me.”

“No,” I said. “I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t hear anything. Honest. The body language, though.” He
had the decency to look ashamed. “I take it that’s the guy you were hoping to connect
with?”

Although it was none of his business, I had no oomph left to tell him so. “That obvious,
huh?”

Adam threw a scathing glance back at the restaurant. “He’s a fool.”

My pride was hurt, my guard was down, and I knew that continuing this line of conversation
with Adam was a bad idea. “Or very, very smart.”

Adam looked confused.

“I have terrible taste in men,” I said. “Consider yourself officially forewarned.”

He grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I mean, seeing as how you don’t seem
particularly smitten with me.”

I laughed. A genuine laugh. “Touché.” I started for my car again. “Thanks for that.”

He fell into step next to me. “Happy to oblige.”

“I’m going home now,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint.

“I’ll walk you there.”

“I’ve got my car.”

He made a noise that sounded like “Mmm,” but kept up with me.

Logic told me I should be wary of his attention. After all I’d been through, how could
I not be? Yet, the streets were teeming with happy, Friday-night tourists, and I had
to admit, I didn’t feel especially vulnerable or unsafe. Chatting politely, I pointed
out Amethyst Cellars and bragged a bit about my roommates’ success there.

Despite the fact that my gut told me that Adam was harmless, the logical part of my
brain reminded me that I’d been wrong before. I kept alert as we continued to the
next block, paying less attention to my surroundings than I did to him, worried he
might try for a whole-body grab and stuff me into a nearby vehicle within full sight
of all the people around us.