The Christmas Thief (3 page)

She scooped up her plate and cup. “I do. I’m assisting the cook.”

“You’re a good cook then.”

Tasha couldn’t help but give him a small smile. The one thing Roger couldn’t complain about was her ability to give her fiancé a good table to put his feet under. She had even taken cooking classes to keep up her skills. Her smile faded at the memory. “I try,” she said.

Jeremy slapped the tailgate. “Quit flirtin’ with the help. We’ve got a load of wood to move.”

Marc nodded. “Right.” He gave Tasha another look. “My crew and I’ll be eating by a fire on my lot sometimes in the evening. If you don’t feel like cooking—especially after being here all day—you’re always welcome.”

She shrugged. “Thanks, but I have a long list of work to do on the house.”

“Understood. Offer’s open.”

Tasha gave the men a noncommittal wave and began to head back inside, but stopped. She squeezed her eyes shut, hating how ungracious she felt—and sounded. The man had invited her to join him and his crew for dinner whenever she wanted. True, he was the enemy, but really, that was by default. Under different circumstances, they might have been friends.

She sighed and turned around. “Did you find your toolbox?”

“’Fraid not.”

She quirked her head to one side. “That’s awful.” Discomfort rippled through her at the idea that a thief really had wandered onto the property next to hers and taken something that didn’t belong to them. “If it helps, I’ll keep my eye out for anything suspicious.”

“I appreciate that,” Marc said. “But you keep yourself safe. It’s just tools.”

Jeremy’s arms were loaded down with split wood. “Hey, Cowboy. I’m about to break a nail.”

Tasha rolled her eyes and shook her head. As she walked away, Marc’s laughter barreled through the trees.

CHAPTER FOUR

Back home, the automatic sensor light she had installed flickered on, lighting her way to her cabin. She took a hesitant glance at the property next to hers and noticed the sign of things to come—lot markers. Wooden posts, each with florescent-orange painted tips stuck up through the earth like daggers in the soil, outlining the shape of her heartbreak. Were these the ones that had disappeared?

Tasha hurried to the front door where she found a note taped to the sidelight window. She frowned and carefully removed it before heading inside.

Wolfy whined from the back deck. She opened the door and he bounded in, his mouth open and tongue hanging out. His bright eyes told her he wanted to play, but all she wanted to do was collapse on the couch. And so she did. She rested her tired legs on her scratched-up coffee table, patted Wolfy’s head, and read the note she’d found on her way inside:

Hello!

Wolfy looked so forlorn this afternoon that we let him out of the deck to romp around awhile. Hope you don’t mind.

Marc

p.s. The crew and I left to pick up fixins for dinner. See you soon.

She rested her head back and groaned. Going to work today had been a welcome blessing, a way to think of something other than the impending construction project next door. Except for that brief meet up with Marc out at camp, that is. She needed to relax. To feed herself and draw a bath. Unfortunately, a spark of adrenaline made her plans to relax nearly moot. Her mind raced, trying to think of a tactful way to extricate herself from the man who seemed to know everybody.

The crunch of tires followed by a distinct popping sound pricked her ears. She sat up. One of Wolfy’s ears flickered backward. Several car doors slammed, then voices, followed by a shout. Carefully, Tasha scooped up her pup and headed for the front door. She double checked that it was locked, and peered out the window.

In the glow of her automatic light, she could make out Marc and a couple of other guys standing next to Marc’s truck. They were bent over, peering at something in the road. Relieved, she released a breath and was about to step away from the glass when someone turned around. It was Andy, and he was glaring ... at her.

The teen charged toward her house. With a flick of her lock, she opened the door and met him halfway. This was her home and she wasn’t going to allow surprise knocks onto her door become the neighbor’s regular habit.

“You left one of your carpet tack strips in the street,” he accused, his eyes flashing. “Put holes in Marc’s tires.”

Tasha recoiled. Wolfy whined in her arms. “I’m sorry to hear it, but that carpet strip wasn’t mine, I can assure you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Andy!” Marc hurried over to stand between them.

Tasha continued. “I don’t know what just happened up there—”

“I just told you what happened,” Andy muttered.

Marc’s voice was sharp. “That’s enough.” He turned to Tasha, his hands on his hips. “I’m sure it was an accident.”

“I told Andy already—I didn’t leave a strip of wood with sharp tacks sticking out of it in the street. I’m not an idiot.” Tasha peered over his shoulder and squinted through the darkening night. “Actually, I just drove right over that same spot less than a half hour ago. I’m parked right in front of you.”

Both men looked toward the street where Tasha’s Subaru was indeed parked. Marc glanced at Andy then back to her, his brow furrowed. “And you didn’t pull into your spot from the middle of the street?”

She shook her head. “No. I remember specifically pulling into right about where your truck is parked, and then I decided to pull forward.” Adding that last part made her want to wince. She’d saved a space for him, but so what? She was only trying to keep him from knocking on her door to ask her to pull up.

He watched her too intensely for comfort.

“So wait a second,” Andy said. “If you didn’t leave it there, who did?”

Tasha shrugged. “Haven’t a clue.”

Andy folded his arms in front of his chest. “That’s what I thought.”

Marc let out a sigh and put a hand on Andy’s shoulder. “Let’s not let this ruin the night, okay? The guys’ll be here soon with grub and I promised this one”—he pointed a thumb toward Tasha—”that I’d make her dinner.”

She scoffed. “Oh, you did not.”

He winked. “I did invite you to join us whenever you see us out here eating, and though I’m not cooking, the guys’ll be here soon with plenty of food.”

“Man, what about your tires?” Andy said. “When you gonna take care of those?”

Marc scratched his shadowy chin. “After dinner one of you clowns can help me change them.”

Tasha took a step back. “Thanks for the invite, gentlemen—”

Something sinister flashed in Andy’s eyes. She could tell by the cold stare the kid gave her that he thought she was guilty of sabotage. She wanted to wring his skinny little neck, but not only did she know this would likely be frowned upon, it would unleash more fuel on the boy’s ridiculous insinuation that she had left something dangerous in the street for Marc’s truck to find. Refusing the dinner invitation, she reasoned, might also point to her guilt.

With a sharp intake of breath, Tasha continued. “I accept your invitation.”

Marc looked both surprised and pleased, but Andy not so much. She didn’t care. She was hungry, and another more serious thought had entered her mind during this whole tiring exchange: she had not removed survey flags, stolen tools, or left a strip of tacks wide open on the street.

So if not her, who?

~~~

In no time, the rest of the crew showed up, and a couple of guys changed Marc’s tires while the others carried two picnic tables onto the site, lit a flame in the fire bowl, and spread out dinner. At some point, Mr. Cho showed up with two bags of garlic bread and that prima donna dog of his in tow saying, “Thought you might like some, yes?” He smiled widely at the applause he received.

Tasha relaxed against a plastic Adirondack chair she had dragged over from her own deck. They were a lively crew, most of them in their older teens to young twenties, eating faster and more than she thought possible. Most of the campers she had served lately were elementary aged, except for a middle school group that had been in the first week she spent there. While a handful of boys always seemed to have inexplicably huge appetites, for the most part, they’d still had leftovers to put away and serve to camp staff the next day.

Tonight? Not so much.

A car rolled to a stop at the edge of the property. A woman stepped out, leaving the car running and the lights on. Andy stood up with a start and headed over to see her. They huddled together, the boy’s shoulders hunched, his hands deep inside his pockets.

It was impolite to stare, but the boy seemed agitated. Or maybe he still thought of Tasha as suspect number one. In any case, while Tasha sipped on her hot chocolate—one of the boys had served her some—she also nonchalantly observed Andy and the stranger. On second look, she realized that the woman was actually a young girl. Probably a teen.

“That’s the one he’s been having trouble with,” Marc said, stumbling into her thoughts.

She jerked a look at him. Marc was watching Andy with almost fatherly concern. For the first time, Tasha wondered about their relationship. She swung a look at the young couple at the end of the lot. They stood at least a foot apart. Her arms were folded around her middle, he was staring at the road. Really, they looked as if they were miles apart.

“It’s really for the best that she leaves,” Marc continued. “But he’s still got it bad for her.”

“You seem to know a lot about what’s going on with them. Are you and Andy related?”

Marc slid a look at her. “Not by blood. I work with youth over at the church in town. It’s a volunteer thing. Also know the girl’s—Katie’s—father. Another contractor in town. Anyway, Andy’s had it rough with one parent gone and another ...” He stalled before continuing. “Well, another who’s had troubles of her own. I needed an assistant for some of my jobs, so I hired him on.”

Inwardly, she sighed. She stole another look at him. “That’s noble of you.”

Marc pulled his gaze away from the couple. “That’s not why I do it.”

“It doesn’t have to be your reason—it just is.”

“Well, thank you, I suppose.” He ran a hand through his ebony-colored hair. “Listen, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I’d like to show you my plans for the house. If you’re willing.”

Her eyes drifted from Marc to his friends clustered around the fire, enthusiasm for her own project waning. “I’ll be around tomorrow since it’s Saturday. I can probably spare a few minutes.” Would she be able to paint on a smile that she wasn’t feeling? “I’m hoping it’s a nice enough day to scrape my deck so I can paint it soon.”

“Good idea. You planning to mix stain in with your paint?”

“Yup.”

“Nice. But listen, be sure not to leave the wood bare for long. This area along the coast is known for its sneaker storms, so you’ll want to primer it right away.”

Tasha groaned audibly. “I know ... I know it’s not much more than a shack, Marc, but really, I can handle the details of fixing it up. Don’t think you need to provide backup or anything.”

He sat next to her, silent. Surely he was stewing over her gentle rebuke. But he had to know that she’d bought this place with plenty of thought, not to mention money. No one needed to know that she’d borrowed from her retirement account—with a penalty extracted—to buy this overpriced cabin surrounded by trees and water. Because of that, there wasn’t one penny left to pay for outside help. It was all up to her.

“If you can wait until seven to start, I can bring you my long-handled scraper—that’ll make things move along faster for you. Unless, of course, you already have one.”

“Marc!”

He quirked a look at her, his eyes intense enough to burn a hole right through her.

She turned her chin away, focusing it on the night moon instead. She allowed her breathing to mellow before slowly addressing him again. “Thank you, but please don’t put yourself out.”

He cracked a smile, those eyes as intense as ever. “I promise.”

CHAPTER FIVE

From her sprawled position on the couch, Tasha gazed at the hillside’s arc, its water-color splashed beauty pressed against a baby blue backdrop. No people, no cars, and few man-made structures obstructed her view. Mr. Cho’s place was up on that hill, and another house that she guessed belonged to the speed-walking couple she’d yet to formally meet. A few other houses sprouted here and there, mostly protected by dense woods. After meeting some of Marc’s crew, she wondered if any of them might live up there as well.

The bowl in her lap sat empty. After scraping her deck all day, she’d had only enough energy left to mix together granola and milk and eat it up for dinner. Actually, she had mustered enough energy to have seconds. Her mind began to float away to that place where everything was familiar, yet made no sense at all—the savasana of her day. Heaven. That’s what this day had been like. No workers next door ... transformation of her own home taking place ... the rhythmic splash of incoming waves. Yes, heaven. As slumber settled in, a rap on her door jarred her back to reality.