Penmort Castle (30 page)

“You’re being
smart?” Jenny asked.

“Yes,” Abby
kind of lied.

She wasn’t sure
she was being smart but she was trying to be.

Mrs. Truman was
looking between the both of them then she enquired, “Is there
something I should know?”

Abby answered
with another mini-fib, “No, just that Cash and I made up.”

Mrs. Truman
made a “pah” noise and then stated, “Of course you did. The papers
all say he’s very bright. Anyone who’s bright wouldn’t let a good
thing like you slip through his fingers because of a silly
quarrel.”

Abby was
processing her feelings at getting a compliment from Mrs. Truman
when the bell on the door clanked.

“Who’s that?”
Abby asked the room at large.

“How should we
know?” Mrs. Truman asked back.

Abby dropped
her half-eaten donut on the tray and walked to the front door,
three yapping spaniels at her heels.

She opened it
and a tall, good-looking young man she’d never seen in her life was
standing outside.

“Abigail
Butler?” he asked.

“Yes,” Abby
answered.

“I’m Simon. Mr.
Fraser asked me to come and see about your plumbing,” he announced
then shoved inside through Abby and the dogs and he closed the
door.

“Um,” Abby
started, staring at him, unable to take in what he said or his
forward behaviour, “someone is already seeing to it.”

Simon had
walked through the vestibule, the dogs who he was gamely ignoring
dancing at his heels and he was standing in the hall.

“Yes that was
mentioned,” Simon told her. “I’m here to make certain the job gets
finished to Mr. Fraser’s standards and look into the rest of the
system.”

Abby wasn’t
certain, but it
felt
like her blood pressure was rising.

“That isn’t
necessary,” she told Simon as she noticed both Jenny and Mrs.
Truman had come to the door of the living room to watch. “I’ve got
everything under control.”

Simon looked
down at her. “I was also told you’d say that. Regardless, Mr.
Fraser was pretty clear he wanted a report by close of business
today as to how the system could be updated promptly and then he’s
stated he wants me to move forward and get it done.”

Abby read
between the lines. Cash wanted it done even if Abby refused. And it
would get done, no matter what Abby said.

Yes, Abby
realised, her blood pressure
was
rising.

“You’re here on
a wasted errand,” she explained to Simon on another kind of lie.
“They’re almost finished.”

Simon looked
toward the stairs. “I’ll just have a look.”

“Really, it
isn’t…” Abby started but Simon was on the move and Abby began to
follow him. “Excuse me,” she called up the steps and he turned.

“You don’t have
to come, I’ll find my way,” Simon told her and then he kept right
on going.

Abby stared at
his departing back.

Then the bell
clanked again.

Abby turned
slowly to the door but looked back at Mrs. Truman and Jenny.

“Well, see who
it is,” Mrs. Truman prompted sharply and Abby and the three
spaniels went back to the door.

She opened it
and a man three inches shorter than Abby and about twenty years
older stood outside carrying a tool box.

“Abigail
Butler?” he asked.

What now?

“Yes,” she
answered.

“I’m Nigel. Mr.
Fraser asked me to pop by and fix your bell,” he told her.

Abby looked at
Nigel then at the bell in her door then to Jenny and Mrs. Truman
who’d come out into the hall.

When she looked
back at Nigel, he was bent, had put his tool box on the stoop and
was petting two of Mrs. Truman’s panting, happy dogs.

“Cute little
fellas,” Nigel remarked.

“Um, there
isn’t anything wrong with my bell,” Abby told him.

Nigel’s head
tilted back and he looked at her then he reached out and turned the
bell.

It clanked
cacophonously.

Abby closed her
eyes.

She opened them
when she heard Nigel say, “Probably just needs a good cleaning.
Won’t take but a minute. I’ll just get started.”

Then he grabbed
his tool box, straightened, pushed in through Abby and the dogs,
closed the door, dropped immediately to his knees and got to
work.

Abby stared at
him.

Then she turned
and stiffly walked to Mrs. Truman and Jenny.

“Did that just
happen?” she asked them.

“Yes,” Mrs.
Truman said shortly and then vanished back into living room.

Jenny came
forward and stopped when she was close to Abby.

“Remember, it’s
just a job,” she whispered.

“We talked
about this,” Abby whispered back, “Cash and I. He said he wouldn’t
interfere.”

“It’s just a
job,” Jenny repeated.

“But –” Abby
began and Jenny’s hand grasped hers and squeezed.

“Let him do
what he wants to do. It’s his thing. If he’s getting off on taking
care of you, let him do it,” Jenny said and then went on. “Just
don’t get used to it.”

“I don’t think
–” Abby started again and Jenny squeezed her hand again.

“It’s his
thing. Not yours. Just let it go and keep focused.”

“Jenny,” Abby
breathed.

“Focus,” Jenny
repeated firmly.

Abby understood
what Jenny was trying to do but she was way too freaked out to let
her do it.

“It’s my house.
It’s Gram’s house. Ben loved this house. It’s theirs. This house is
the only place I can still be with them. I can’t be thinking of
Cash every time I hear the door bell or take a shower!” she cried
but under her breath so Nigel couldn’t hear.

“Too late for
that,” Jenny said logically.

“Jenny!” Abby
exclaimed.

Jenny got even
closer. “I know it’s tough and it’s going to get tougher. But you
can do it.”

“I don’t think
I can,” Abby admitted and Jenny gave her another hand squeeze.

“I
know
you can. And anyway, you’ve got bigger fish to fry. There’s a ghost
who wants to kill you, for goodness sakes.”

This, Abby
thought, was true.

“Priorities,”
Jenny finished, gave Abby’s hand another squeeze, let her go and
then walked back into the living room.

Abby took a
deep breath then followed her friend back to the donuts.

* * * * *

Abby felt the
hair being shifted off her neck and she opened her eyes to see a
man’s thigh encased in black trousers with thin pinstripes set
wide.

She looked up
and saw a wine-coloured shirt, collar open at a muscular neck.

Then up further
and she saw Cash.

He was sitting
in the crook of her lap, one hand on her hip, his eyes warm on her
face. Abby was lying on her side on the couch in the seating area
off his kitchen.

“Did I fall
asleep?” she asked in somnolent surprise.

Cash smiled,
leaned forward and picked something up from the floor. He came up
with her book which she must have dropped after she fell asleep
while reading.

“I think you
lost your place,” he murmured, setting the book by her still full
but now probably cold mug of herbal tea on the low table in front
of the couch.

Abby’s eyes
went from the book to the digital clock on the microwave over the
stove.

When she saw it
was a quarter to eight, she shot to sitting position, dodging
around Cash, and jumped to her feet crying, “Oh
God!
The
dumplings!”

She rushed to
the kitchen, registering that her nagging headache which she’d been
keeping at bay all day with pain medication had come back. With it
being way late, and with the dumplings to sort, she didn’t have
time to do anything about it.

Abby hurried to
the counter saying, “I meant to have everything ready for you when
you got home. This is going to take at least another half an
hour.”

As Abby threw
the tea towel off the dumpling dough, Cash’s voice said from behind
her, “Darling, relax.” She turned to walk to the drawer to get a
spoon as he went on, “Martini or amaretto?”

He was at the
cupboard containing the liquor, looking at ease and unperturbed,
making drinks in his kitchen while she cooked.

This she found
vaguely alarming because it was not-so-vaguely appealing.

Abby decided to
focus on the drink rather than the appeal of Cash and herself doing
normal boyfriend/girlfriend stuff in his kitchen and replied,
“Martini.”

While Cash
started to make the drinks, Abby opened the crock pot and the aroma
from the food wafted strongly into the room. Without delay, she
began to spoon in the dumpling dough.

Then she heard
him say, low and deep, “Fuck.”

She froze,
gooey spoon in hand, and turned to see him staring at the crock
pot.

“What’s the
matter?” she asked.

“What is that?”
he asked in return.

Abby looked
down at the crock pot then back to Cash, worry filling her at his
reaction and she answered, “Irish stew. Um,” she hesitated then
went on, “don’t you like Irish stew?”

His eyes went
from the pot to Abby and she held her breath.

“You know how
you feel about cashmere?” he asked.

“Yes,” she
answered.

His lips turned
up slightly at the ends. “I feel that way about Irish stew.”

A weird,
intense, happy warmth spread through her at this news.

Then it
occurred to her that she’d said she wanted to roll around in
cashmere and it was on the tip of her tongue to tease him but she
stopped herself.

Ben, she would
have teased.

Jenny and
Kieran, she still could tease.

She could even
tease Mrs. Truman (probably).

Cash wasn’t
hers to tease.

She went back
to her task and muttered, “That’s good.”

She felt him
get close and then she felt him casually kiss the side of her head
as she was at her business with the dumplings.

At his kiss,
the happy warmth was joined with a short, strong, lovely
shiver.

He was back to
seeing to her martini before she had a chance to shrug off this
reaction. It took effort but she had herself firmly in hand by the
time she finished the dumplings, cleaned her hands, pulled the
crock out of the heating unit and slid it in the oven to bake the
dumplings.

She was closing
the oven door when she heard, “Abby, we have a problem.”

She looked up
to see Cash close the refrigerator and turn to her, his face was
grave.

She felt her
heart start beating faster.

“What problem?”
she asked.

He walked to
her as she flicked the oven mitts off her hands and onto the
counter but he didn’t answer.

“What is it?”
she prompted when he didn’t speak.

He got close
and put both hands on her neck.

“Darling,” he
said solemnly but there was a strange, magnetic light in his eyes,
“we don’t have any olives.”

Then she saw
his mouth twitch.

Her belly
dipped and her heart lurched.

But she didn’t
speak.

Cash was
teasing her.

She could
likely protect her heart from domineering, sexy, charismatic Cash
but loving, kiss-on-the-side-of-the-head, teasing Cash?

Impossible!

He squeezed her
neck, “Do you think you could do without the olives?”

Abby considered
this. Then she bit the side of her lip.

Because the
answer was no, she could absolutely not drink a martini without the
olives.

Cash’s eyes
dropped to her mouth then he gave a shout of rich laughter and his
arms came around her, pulling her to him.

“I take it
that’s a no,” he said over her head and she could tell by his voice
(not to mention the laugh) that he found this highly amusing.

“That’s a no,”
Abby admitted to his chest.

He kissed the
top of her head and then murmured there, “I’ll drink the martini
and make you an amaretto.”

She nodded then
he moved away.

She had nothing
to do but wait for the dumplings to bake. Therefore Abby was at
odds with how to proceed seeing as they were moving around his
kitchen like an old married couple and she shouldn’t be thinking
about how lovely it was to move around Cash’s kitchen, with Cash,
like they were an old married couple.

She decided to
stand, hip against the counter and watch him make her drink.

“Did you have a
good day?” she asked, thinking that sounded lame.

“No,” he
replied.

“No?” she
repeated, watching him work, noticing that the ingredients for her
favourite drink were all ready at hand. Obviously Cash (or Moira)
had a conversation with Aileen and the kitchen had been stocked
with her preferences.

That gave her a
warm feeling too.

He continued as
Abby fought valiantly against the warm feeling. “I have to go to
Germany tomorrow.”

Abby watched
him move to the fridge for the ice and enquired, “When will you be
home?”

“Saturday.”

Abby’s breath
caught.

Her first
thought was that she wouldn’t see Cash for three days.

She’d been with
him every day for over a week. She was used to being with him. She
was used to having dinner with him. She was used to sleeping in his
bed. She was used to sleeping with
him
in his bed. She was
used to doing other things with him in his bed too.

She didn’t like
the idea of
not
seeing him.

Maybe for a day
but
three?

Then Abby’s
emotional warrior reared up and mentally kicked her in the
shin.

This reminded
her that she and Cash didn’t exist in that joyful time where
everything about their relationship was shiny and new. They weren’t
caught in those early days of discovery where you spent every
moment you weren’t together thinking about being together and every
moment you were together thinking life was bliss. It wasn’t the
beginning of something that you knew, you just
knew
was
going to be something magical.