Key to Love (25 page)

She nodded and watched him remove the last box from his trunk. “Lead on. Take the box into the kitchen, leave it on the counter, and I’ll take it from there.”

As soon as J.B. left, Elise set the take-out dinners on the small kitchen table, hefted the box of books from the counter, and made her way to the small room at the back of the house. It had once been a sewing room and was now converted into an office for Lucas. She paused for a second at the door, feeling uneasy about entering a room that was now his private working area and filled with his personal belongings.

Finally, when the weight of the box became unbearable, she pushed the door open. The rich cherry desk she had selected occupied the center of the room, decorated in shades of navy and gray, and behind it, matching floor-to-ceiling bookcases nestled against the wall. It was perfect, just as she had envisioned it. The contractor and decorator had followed her instructions flawlessly. Soft white valances hung from the long mullioned windows and sunlight poured into the room through the blinds and danced on the polished dark hardwood floor, refinished and squeaky clean. A chair rail with soft tan grass cloth above it encircled half the room.

Elise set the box on the corner of the desk and moved to the bookcases, surprised by the collection of pictures in a potpourri of expensive silver- and gold-plated frames and occupying the two middle shelves. Except for small pictures of his grandmother and his brother with Todd, the remainder of the collection consisted of snapshots of herself, her mother and father, and her brothers. In the center of the collection was an enlarged, high-school era picture of Fritz, Thomas, Lucas and herself eating watermelon under a gnarled old apple tree outside the farmhouse kitchen door. Fritz and Lucas were having a seed-spitting contest.

Turning back to the desk, she felt her breath catch in her throat in surprise. Beneath a banker’s lamp with a milk glass shade, a small college graduation picture of herself stared back at her. Wondering how he had ever managed to get his hands on it, she slumped down in the chair and picked it up. Only her brothers and her father had the picture. He had to have gone through the trouble of having a copy made from one of theirs.

Replacing it, she removed the notebook from the box and pulled the desk drawer open. Just as she was about to slide it inside, she noticed a small, maroon-colored scrapbook. Curiosity, she muttered to herself, had always been her worst enemy. Her hand hovered above it. She hesitated a second, then picked it up, flipped open the cover open, and gasped. Everything from the first newspaper clippings covering her high school track records to the announcement of her acceptance to Ohio State had been carefully and chronologically preserved beneath the plastic sleeves. There was even a local article about her appointment to Winston and Sanders.

A folded, yellowed and worn sheet of lined tablet paper tumbled out from among the pages. She carefully unfolded it, surprised to find a long-forgotten note she had scribbled to Lucas when she was in her first year of high school. It was asking him—no, telling him—to save her spot on their neighborhood sandlot baseball team. “Dear Lucas,” she had written. “I’m coming late to the game after school today because I have track practice until five. Save second base for me or face torture or death. Love, Lizzie.”

“You always had a blunt, knock-’em-over-the-head approach when you wanted to get your point across. You’re busted, you know.”

Elise’s head jerked up at the sound of Lucas’s voice. He stood in the doorway, his hand shoved into his back pocket of his Levi’s. She could tell he had recently showered. His hair, still damp, curled over the back of a light blue chambray shirt, sleeves rolled up to show strong arms, lightly sprinkled with hair. He was all muscle and male from head to toe, and just looking at him made her heart skip wildly.

“Lucas, I...” She paused, embarrassed, unable to speak. Quickly she shoved the note back into the scrapbook and slipped it back into the drawer. She rose.

“I know what this must look like.”

His face held no trace of anger as she moved toward him.

“It’s all right, Liz. I knew I could never keep it a secret once I decided to move here,” he said softly.

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me for all these years?”

“Not exactly keeping tabs per se, just following your career. Come on, Lizzie, it’s been no secret even with Fritz I’ve always admired you from afar. You’ve been my first choice of all the women I’ve known.” He reached up and tenderly tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear as he stared into her eyes. When she smiled, he bent and kissed her lightly on the lips for barely a second and then again for two until they both found themselves pushed to that electrifying moment of intensity where no one else exists. Elise broke the embrace, burying her face in his shirt as he kissed her neck and pulled her frantically closer to him.

“Lucas,” she whispered into his shirt, “this may not be such a good...”

“Shh,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted you so badly for so long now.”

He swept her up in his arms and headed for the bedroom where he set her down and like a raging fire taking hold, they stared at each other for barely a second before their arms and hands tangled with each other. Buttons and snaps popped, zippers scraped, and clothes went flying to all corners of the room. When they finally sank naked into the soft fluffy comforter on the king-sized bed, Elise heard him tenderly whisper into her ear, “There really is heaven on earth, Lizzie, my love. Let me show you.”

Chapter Eighteen

Lucas sat on the front porch of the Springer residence watching the sun climb over the horizon and turn the fields and treetops to a hazy rose, pink, and violet. Its rays reflected off the tin roof on the milk house by the barn and sent flashes of light like white firecrackers soaring into the air.

He was in love with Lizzie Springer, truly in love with her, and the thought made him gloriously happy for the first time in his life. Last night was more than he had ever hoped for. She was everything he had dreamed about and wanted since he was sixteen years old. But doubts had a way of creeping up on him now with the dawn of a new morning.

Elise was a stubborn and proud woman. Proud of her creative accomplishments. Proud she had achieved such a level of success. But would she want him as much as he wanted her? Would she ever consider giving up everything she had on the West Coast to stay on the East Coast? He doubted it, and he frowned at the troubling thought. She’d have to be convinced and he’d have to find a way to convince her, even if he had to resort to bribery. Late last night, after they had left the cottage to return to the farm, he had set the wheels in motion. This time Elise Springer was not getting away from him so easily.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car coming up the drive. J.B. stopped and hopped out. With a gray portfolio slapping against his right thigh, he scaled the steps two at a time.

“I made the deal. It went as slick as soft butter on warm bread. Levinson was thrilled to take on a serious interested investor willing to put up twenty-five percent on one hotel alone. And guess where he’s building the first one?”

“Wilkes-Barre or Scranton?”

“Wilkes-Barre. How’d you know?”

“Come on, J.B. The man is getting old, thinking of retiring. This five-hotel deal is his final hurrah. His wife was raised near Wilkes-Barre. It doesn’t take a Mensa mind to figure out one of them will be located here. I’m assuming you chose to invest in his Pennsylvania venture for us?”

“No, Iowa, you goofball, in the middle of cornfields.” He eased back and balanced himself against the porch rail. He grinned. “Of course, Pennsylvania.”

Lucas took the portfolio and leafed through it thoughtfully.

“Does Elise know?” J.B. asked.

“That’s the one piece of the jigsaw puzzle I haven’t been able to put into place.” Lucas made a sour face.

“Oh, man, oh, man,” J.B. said, shaking his head. “You like to live dangerously.”

Lucas stiffened and gave him an irritated look. “What choice do I have? If I tell her, she’ll think I’m intervening to keep her here. Or worse yet, she’ll think it’s the reason she got the contract for the hotel design. Either way, when she finds out, she’s going to be madder than a snake caught in a hay baler, as her dad would so eloquently put it.”

“But Levinson doesn’t know there’s a connection. I made sure of it. He’s agreeable to transacting business directly through me.”

“Then let’s hope Lizzie doesn’t find out until I can find the right time to explain everything. It’s a good investment, right? You said so yourself.”

J.B. pushed himself off the railing. “Yes, it’s an extraordinary investment, but there’s a big difference between a great deal and convincing a furious woman it’s a great one. You two need to find a way to get on the same page, boss.”

“Same page? Hell, we’re not even in the same book,” Lucas said woodenly.

****

Elise paced in front of her drawing board in her bedroom, reaching for her cell phone and withdrawing her hand just as she was about to touch it. The pit of her stomach ached as if she had swallowed a packet of straight pins and they were regrouping to make an upward march for freedom.

Long before sunrise, she had been awake trying to work up enough courage to call Morton Levinson. Ever since she was old enough to speak three coherent words, she had been a brave, assertive individual, yet every time she thought about telling him she couldn’t return to California, every ounce of stamina she owned deserted her quicker than she could spit out the word hello.

She reached for the phone for what had to be the tenth time when it rang. Caught off guard, she jumped high enough to clear Bess lying on the floor beside her. Fumbling with the on button, she jammed the phone to her ear, willing her jangled nerves to be calm.

“Hello, Elise Springer.”

“Where have you been?” Nick Peters asked curtly.

“Well, a very good morning to you, too,” she shot back, relieved to hear anyone’s voice but Levinson’s. “Sounds like someone missed his morning coffee or perhaps lost it in the landfill on his desk.”

“Funny, real funny. I tried to get you last night,” he said.

“Didn’t Cindy tell you I was at the cottage checking on the renovations?” She had no desire to tell Nick Peters where she’d spent half the night.

“Are you in a location to speak privately?”

“Yes. What did you find?” Elise moved to bed where she sat down.

“I took your advice and re-examined the car.”

Elise waited.

“And we messed up big time, or rather the township police did.” He paused, and the sound of papers rustled on his desk. “I found paint flecks on the bumper of Mike Fisher’s car.”

“What color?”

“White, like his, but from the lab reports, the remnants of another white vehicle.”

“So someone did run him off the road,” Elise said with a bitter edge to her voice.

“Someone hit him, that’s for sure.”

“Where do we go from here, Nick?”

“I don’t know. We need to think it through. We just can’t mosey around the Scranton area scratching off paint samples from every white vehicle we come across. People get a mite touchy about their cars.”

Morrison’s white Mercedes flashed through Elise’s mind. “Maybe we can start by checking out some body shops around town and seeing whether any were busy after Mike’s death.”

“No way, Elise. Someone who caused an accident where another person was killed, or even injured, wouldn’t waltz into a body shop in a hundred mile radius of here unless he has a few loose screws.”

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. “Okay, you work your end and I’ll work mine,” she suggested. “One more thing, when Mike died that night, where was Todd?”

There was a pause. “He was at the Meyer house,” Nick said. “Mike was working three to eleven, and when he was on a late shift he usually let Todd sleep over until the next morning. In fact, Mike’s last phone call was to check on the kid.”

“Who else knows about the paint flecks?”

“Just you and me, and let’s keep it that way.”

“Okay. Keep in touch, will you?” She hung up the phone and collapsed into the chair in front of the computer.
What was happening here?
She parted the curtains and looked out the bedroom window onto the lawn where a noisy pair of jenny wrens was busy building a nest in a weathered birdhouse hanging from a huge oak tree that once held her old rope swing. How could she leave Scranton now? Certainly not now, when they might be close to solving Mike’s murder.

****

Fifteen minutes later, Lucas found her staring at the monitor.

“You’d do better with the television downstairs,” he said, stepping into the room. “It has a better selection of channels and a remote. The picture you’re watching is a monotonous rerun.” He moved up behind her and kissed her softly on the side of the neck. She smelled delicious, the light fresh scent of something floral. Her nearness brought back memories of the night before.

Elise glanced up at him and smiled, despite her dreary mood. “I guess you’re right, but at least the screen saver doesn’t have any surprises. I know how everything is going to end.”

“I take it you haven’t made the call to Levinson?”

“What if he says no?” She sighed.

“What if he says yes?” He rested his hands gently on her shoulders and began to knead the knots out. “Lizzie, it’s not like you to be a coward.”