Home to Sparrow Lake (Harlequin Heartwarming) (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

K
RISTEN
HAD
EXPECTED
a small-town police station would be deserted at night. She was surprised to see a couple of uniformed officers talking to the woman at the desk. Their conversation ended immediately and the woman said, “I called Mrs. Becker, Chief. She said she would get over to the store and shut off the alarm right away.”

“Thanks, Janet.”

Kristen tightened her jaw. “My aunt has been sick. You shouldn’t be bothering her,
Chief.
”

“Not here.”

She felt the gazes of the two officers follow her and the cretin as he led her toward the rear of the station. He escorted her into an office. The brass plate on his desk read Police Chief Alex Novak
.

“Sit,” he said. “Please.”

Too exhausted to protest, Kristen dropped into a chair.

How had her life gone so wrong?

She’d lost her job, her savings, her home.

And now
this
new humiliation.

“If you’re going to arrest me, just get it over with.” At least that way, he would throw her in a cell with a cot and she could get some sleep. Undoubtedly he would take unflattering photos of her and then fingerprint her.

“First things first,” he said. “How about you give me that explanation now.”

Great. She could have cleared this up at the store if only he would have listened. “As I said, Margaret Becker is my aunt. I’m working at Sew Fine now—”

“I’ve never seen you around town.”

“Because I just moved here from Chicago a few days ago.”

“Chicago, huh?” His thick eyebrows shot up. “Do you have some kind of identification?”

She glared at him. “I do, actually. In my purse! Which I accidentally locked in the blasted store!”

“No need to shout...what did you say your name was?”

“Kristen Lange.”

“Lange.” His expression shifted slightly. “Hmm.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have the same name as Aunt Margaret. She’s been married a few times.” Three times, actually. Divorced twice, and then widowed three years ago.”

“Actually, I was wondering if you were related to Brian Lange.”

“He’s my kid brother.” The police chief knew Brian? Why? Brian had only returned to Sparrow Lake from California a month before she’d come home. “And Heather Clarke is my younger sister.”

Heather was the only sibling who had lived in Sparrow Lake all her life. Kristen had left for school at eighteen and had gone on to a job in Chicago. She’d come back to Sparrow Lake for visits, of course, but she’d never intended to live here again. She’d had big plans for her future and had never wanted to feel like the failure she obviously was.

“Funny,” the police chief said. “You don’t look like Heather or Brian.”

“They resemble Mom. I’ve been told I look like our father.”

His gaze narrowed as he gave her face an intent once-over. “I don’t remember another Lange.”

“Because he hasn’t lived here for more than a decade.”

She wasn’t about to explain that their irresponsible father had walked out on his family, leaving his wife to fend for herself and three children. Two years ago, Mom had remarried and her husband’s new job had prompted a move to California for them and Brian, who’d been in high school.

“So you’re living with Margaret.”

“Temporarily.”

“Working for her.”

“Temporarily.”

“Not married?”

Resenting being grilled, Kristen frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

His eyebrows flicked and he seemed to be smothering a smile.

“I was wondering why you’re living with your aunt.”

“What business is that of yours?”

“Just trying to get all the facts, ma’am.”

Kristen sat back in her chair and fell silent. Now that she was able to see him clearly in the light, she realized he was a good-looking man, probably in his early thirties. He had dark hair, gray eyes, a slight cleft in his chin and a smile that would be nice if it wasn’t plastered sarcastically on his face.

Was it her imagination, or was Police Chief Alex Novak being just a little too personal here?

Her gaze went to his left hand—no ring—and then back to his speculative expression. He knew her aunt. He knew her sister. He knew her brother.
So let me go home, already.

“Are you going to arrest me or not?”

“That all depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether Margaret Becker will vouch for you.” He looked beyond her. “And there she is now.”

“Aunt Margaret?”

Kristen twisted around in her seat and saw her aunt at the front desk, talking to the woman named Janet. Still dressed in what Kristen thought of as satin lounging pajamas, Aunt Margaret had merely put on a pair of sandals and thrown a light wrap around her shoulders for modesty before leaving the house. Neither Janet nor the officers who greeted her before going out the door seemed to think her manner of dress unusual.

Suddenly, Aunt Margaret marched toward the police chief’s office, her face set in a frown. To Kristen’s great relief, she saw the purse she’d left in the store in her aunt’s hands. Also to her relief, her aunt looked fine, not sick, after all.

“Alex, what is going on?” Margaret shifted her attention to Kristen. “Hello, honey.” She handed over Kristen’s purse. “What a terrible thing to have happen on your first day working for me.”

“So, this is your niece?”

“Of course she is, Alex. Who else would she be? Can’t you see the resemblance?”

Kristen smothered a smile. If there ever had been a resemblance between them, her aunt’s spiked red hair and penchant for bright colors like the orange-and-teal print of the pajamas she was wearing kind of smothered it.

To her irritation, although he was wearing a straight face, Alex said, “Yes, of course, Margaret. Your niece looks just like you.”

Aunt Margaret beamed. “Well, we’re going to be off now. Time to get some sleep. Come on, Kristen, I’ll drive you back to your car.”

“Hey, wait a minute—”

Aunt Margaret stopped dead in her tracks, narrowed her gaze on the police chief and added a slight chill to her tone. “Wait for what, Alex? You don’t have a problem with my niece, do you?”

“Uh, no, of course not.”

“Good. Then we’ll see you later.”

If Kristen wasn’t so tired, she would have laughed at the frustration on Alex Novak’s face. Whatever he’d been maneuvering for, he was disappointed.

That thought made her feel just a little better after he’d added more stress to her already disastrous evening.

* * *

“Y
OU
’
LL
FEEL
BETTER
after you have something to eat,” Aunt Margaret promised as they entered the house through the kitchen entrance.

Kristen wasn’t so sure of that. Trying to deal with the police chief on top of her awful first day at the store had stressed her out enough for a month. “Maybe I should just go to bed.”

Her aunt was already in the refrigerator. “Never go to bed hungry. Have a little something.” She pulled out a covered container. “Macaroni and cheese?”

“All right.” Kristen couldn’t resist an old favorite comfort food after all she’d been through that night. “But just a little.”

She fetched a small bowl from a cabinet. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had mac and cheese, maybe not since she’d been in school. It wasn’t the kind of dish she would have sought out in multi-ethnic Chicago, but in Wisconsin, it seemed perfect, Wisconsin being the cheese state and all.

“Just sit,” her aunt said, taking the bowl out of her hands and pulling a spoon from a drawer. “It’ll only take two minutes to heat up in the microwave.”

Kristen gladly sat on a stool at the marble-topped island and watched her aunt move around the huge designer kitchen she so rarely used.

From the outside, the classic French Normandy stone manor was entrenched in the landscape, as if it had overlooked the lake forever. The inside had been renovated by the previous owner—the kitchen and baths were only fifteen years old—but the style was still quite traditional. Too traditional for the artist in Aunt Margaret.

Kristen loved the house, but she didn’t feel at home here, not even in the huge guest suite. In addition to her bedroom and walk-in closet, she had a nice-sized sitting room and a spa-worthy bathroom. The guest suite was nearly as big as her own apartment had been, she thought morosely, remembering how the bank had foreclosed on her condo after she’d used up most of her savings.

“Here you go, honey.” Aunt Margaret set the bowl and a fork before her. “Eat up. Then you can get some sleep.”

“Thanks.”

Kristen’s mouth watered at the smell. Of course her aunt had overloaded the bowl with food, and she couldn’t possibly eat it all this late. She slid a forkful into her mouth and just let it melt there before swallowing. It tasted so good it nearly made her toes curl.

Her aunt slid onto a stool across from her. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. I have an early meeting at the university tomorrow.”

Kristin took another forkful. “A faculty meeting?” And another.

“Actually, it’s with my dean. I’m turning in my resignation.”

Surprised, Kristen asked, “Why? I thought you loved teaching.”

The bowl was half-empty. She ought to stop now.

“I do love teaching, but I’m tired, honey. Teaching full-time and running the store have worn me out. I haven’t had the energy or time to do the things I want.”

“But Heather is managing the store now.” Her aunt was still teaching quilting classes and stepping in to work the store if someone called in sick, but that was nothing compared to managing the place.

“Your sister is a hard worker. I’m very grateful that she stepped up. But teaching full time...” She shook her head. “Even though I will resign, I can still be an adjunct in the department and teach a sketching or painting class a semester. It’s the students I love. What I don’t love is committee work. Thank goodness that as an adjunct I won’t have to go to all those boring meetings anymore.”

Kristen couldn’t imagine being without something to do every moment. Then again, her aunt had decades of that behind her. Nearing seventy, she deserved to slow down if she wanted. She simply didn’t act like a senior citizen. Didn’t look it, either. She kept her hair the same bright red it had always been, and she must be using some incredible skin products, because the only wrinkles she had were the welcoming smile lines around her striking hazel eyes.

“What will you do with all that extra time you’ll have?” Kristen asked, deciding that maybe she could have one more bite of the luscious mac and cheese.

“For one, I would like to make some plans to travel. And I want do something with this house to make it more livable.”

“Aunt Margaret, this place is great as it is,” Kristen said, though it was starting to look a little shabby in places and needed quite a bit of maintenance.

“You know, I’ve been wanting to transform it with color.”

Ever since her husband, Donald, had died, Aunt Margaret had threatened to paint the walls bright colors and perk up the whole place with pieces of art, but she hadn’t done anything yet. Not even normal maintenance. The only room her aunt had ever redesigned was her studio, and that must have been shortly after she’d married Donald and moved in with him.

“Sounds great,” Kristen said, putting the last forkful of food in her mouth. “We’ll have to talk more about it tomorrow when you get home.” Unbelievably, she’d finished every morsel. Tempted to lick the bowl clean, she restrained herself and took it and the fork to the sink, rinsed them and set them in the dishwasher. “Aunt Margaret, about the store window—”

“Don’t worry about it, honey, it’s easily fixed.”

“If you’ll tell me who to call, I’ll take care of it first thing when I get to the store.”

“All right. I’ll put the name and number of my handyman right here on the counter before I leave for the university in the morning. And I’ll call Heather, too, so she won’t be shocked.”

“Great.” Kristen yawned, then kissed her aunt’s cheek. “Now I need go pass out.”

Which is exactly what she did upon entering her room. She didn’t bother stripping down any further than removing her dirty suit jacket and skirt. She didn’t take a shower. She was falling-down exhausted. Thinking she could take care of any mess tomorrow, she simply turned off the light and fell face-forward onto the bed.

The moment her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.

* * *

A
LEX
SAW
THE
light go out on the east side of the house. Kristen Lange’s room? The patrol car’s engine running, he sat on the road a hundred yards from Margaret Becker’s home, a small mansion compared to most homes in this community.

He hadn’t meant to come this way tonight, but heading for home from the station, he’d stopped at a convenience store for some food for Spike, a stray cat he’d been taking care of, then found himself taking the long way around the lake. He’d tried convincing himself that he was checking on the Lange kid, Kristen’s brother. But he didn’t figure he would find Brian skulking around at this hour.

He had to admit it was the woman herself who interested him right now. Kristen Lange didn’t seem like a typical small-town girl coming back to her roots. Although
he
wasn’t exactly small town, either.

Maybe it was the Chicago connection that drew him to her. There were aspects of the big city he didn’t miss, but there were others he did. Plus, most of his family still lived in Chicago. Unless it was rush hour or construction season, it was only a ninety-minute drive away, so he got back to see them often enough.

Still, the women here were softer, less likely to give him a run for his money. They didn’t have that edge that attracted him. He needed a challenge in his life that had nothing to do with work, and Kristen Lange was spicy enough to make him anticipate their next encounter.

* * *

M
ARGARET
POURED
HERSELF
a glass of lemonade and sat in the small bay window off the living room overlooking Sparrow Lake. She and Donald had spent many pleasant evenings together there, just talking and enjoying the view. After two bad marriages that had ended in divorce, she’d finally found her soul mate in Donald. When she’d lost him, she’d bought the quilting store and had thrown herself into managing it, in addition to teaching, to fill the empty spaces in her life.