The House on Hancock Hill (15 page)

A
N
HOUR
later, I parked outside the Hancock Animal Clinic in town. In the passenger seat, Henry turned to me and smiled. It felt like such a natural thing to lean in and reach for him that I did it without thinking. About halfway there, I realized we were in public with lots of people coming and going around us. He caught my hesitation. Amused, he wrapped his fingers around my hand, drew me closer, and kissed me soundly.

“I’ll see you after work.” A line I’d never expected to hear from anyone. “God, I—” He shook his head.

“What?”

“Nothing. I don’t mean to scare you off. Call me if you need anything.”

“You too,” I said, and with that he was gone. As I watched him walk up to the clinic, a tall black girl I recognized as Susannah Franklin caught up with him. She threw a look over her shoulder in my direction and elbowed Henry in the ribs. In a way that was very recognizable already, he ducked his head, and I knew he’d be blushing. When he turned to look at me one last time before disappearing through the doors, he was beaming. It made my heart skip. It made me hurt.
I’ll see you after work
. I wouldn’t mind if I did, every day. Was that what he’d meant to say? Allowing myself to even think it was a highway to heartbreak.

While I was still parked, I called the sheriff’s office. Colleen told me they should have the report from the fire expert in an hour or two, which I would have to sign, so why didn’t I come by then. I thanked her, hung up, and took a left on Quincy Street.

On my way back to Annie’s, I passed a Chase bank, pulled into their drive-through, and took a wild guess at how much I owed her.

The apartment above the garage was warm again, but I knew I wouldn’t be staying there anymore, so I turned off the heat and gathered what was left of my things. When I had it all together, I opened my laptop with a feeling of dread. No point putting it off any longer.

M
Y
FLIGHT
at 4:00 p.m. on Sunday was booked five minutes later. It was the last flight of the day, and there were only two. It was funny, almost, to think that three days ago, I’d wanted to get out of here as fast as I could while now I was wondering what exactly waited for me that had me hurrying back. It was nonsense of course. The thrill of finding this connection with Henry was stopping me from thinking straight. Chemistry messing with my mind, nothing more. Once I was back at my place with the responsibility and the routine of the bakery, this would all seem like a distant dream. Life would taste plain without Henry in it for a while, like missing a vital ingredient: tiramisu without coffee liqueur. As any heartache did, it would fade, maybe too soon. I wanted to hang on to that heartache, feel it for as long as I could. I would take pain of separation over dulling memories any time, any day.

This pity party was getting fairly pathetic, so I steeled myself—both mentally and physically—and dragged my stuff down the steps. After I dumped it in Henry’s Avalanche, I hurried up Annie’s porch steps and knocked on her door.

“Jason, dear.” If she was surprised to see me, she didn’t show it. Still wearing her dressing gown, hair in curlers underneath a pink hairnet, she let me in, unruffled as can be.

“I’m sorry I’m barging in like this,” I said, closing the door behind me, “but I was wondering if I could settle the bill with you. I won’t be staying here anymore.”

“Is that right?” She waved me into the kitchen where she was preparing food for Buttons. It involved what looked like three kinds of steak. “Did you get a better offer from someone younger and more beautiful?”

“Younger,” I admitted. “But more beautiful wouldn’t be possible.”

“Flatterer,” she admonished, but she looked pleased. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Henry now, would it?”

“Uh, maybe.” From the kiss in front of the clinic, I’d gathered Henry really wasn’t bothered with people knowing, but on the other hand, I’d be gone soon and he’d have to deal with the fallout if there was any.

She winked at me. “Your secret is safe with me. But if you think I’d go ahead and charge you for a night of nearly freezing to death, you’re sorely mistaken.” I opened my mouth to protest but she shut me up with one gesture. “How about I let you take me out to brunch instead.”

I grinned at her. “It would be my pleasure,” I said.

“Then you just give me ten minutes, Jason, dear.”

The ten minutes turned into thirty, and I watched with a kind of sick fascination as Buttons devoured his breakfast. He seemed to think he was a lion who’d just caught an antelope from the way he attacked his little black and white paw-print bowl.

B
RUNCH
WAS
to be had at the Four Seasons Tea Room in Houghton. The roads had been cleared, and it didn’t look like more snow was coming for now, so I didn’t mind the drive. When I told Annie I would be going to the sheriff’s office later that morning, she informed me she’d go with me, and Ron could take her home.

The Tea Room turned out to be a lovely place, decorated with tea cups and pots in all shapes and sizes, with a menu that surprised me. We treated ourselves and ordered the Tea for Two. The food was delicious, and we talked little while helping ourselves to three-tiered sandwiches, quiche, broccoli cheddar soup, and scones with cream. Considering I’d already had pancakes, I was stuffed by the time I put my fork down and refilled her cup from her dainty teapot.

“This was lovely,” Annie said, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. “Thank you, honey. It’s been a long time since a handsome young man took me out.”

“Were you ever married?” I asked, topping up my cup.

“Yes. Mr. Mitchell died a long time ago. Pneumonia, of all things. He was only twenty-seven.”

I nearly dropped my teapot. “And how old were you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind. I was twenty-five.”

“My God, and you never found someone else?”

“I never looked.” There was a silence, and then she added, “When you find true love—I know you young kids scoff at it—but when you really find it, nothing ever compares.”

I couldn’t look her in the eye. It felt like there was far too much meaning behind those words. “I’m sorry you didn’t have more time together.”

“So am I. But I never forgot Peter. I never regretted meeting him and marrying him. I wouldn’t trade those six years we had together for a lifetime with someone else.” Maybe she sensed my distress, or maybe it was just plainly written on my face, because she changed the subject. “Did your dad ever tell you why he never came back to the farm after you turned sixteen?”

It wasn’t exactly an easy change of subject, but I gritted my teeth and shook my head. “No, he never did. I can’t even remember if I ever asked, to be honest.”

Annie patted my hand. “Your dad was very protective of you, Jay.” She smiled, and her eyes became distant, like she was looking into the past. “You never knew, but when you were running about with Henry and that Neville boy, the whole town would look out for you and report where you were, or if you were up to no good.”

I laughed though I felt my chest clench in pain around an unexpected ball of emotion. “That’s why Dad always materialized out of nowhere when we tried jumping off the pier.” The memory that climbed up through the years of not delving too deeply into what I’d lost was from another photograph. Taken by Johnny this time, of Henry giving me a piggy-back ride on the Hancock pier while Dad looked on with exasperated amusement. I remembered the euphoric thrill, laughing so hard my belly hurt, when Henry pretended to tip me over the composite rail while I clung to him like a particularly stubborn octopus. That was the last summer too, and I saw with gut-punching clarity if I’d been given one more year, something between Henry and me might’ve bloomed. Something amazing and wonderful we probably would have been too young for.

The need to know why we never came back was suddenly overwhelming, and I opened my mouth to ask her about it, but she cut me off.

“He loved you very much,” she said and it took me a numb second to realize she meant Dad, not Henry. A lump sat heavy in my throat, so I just nodded, but she didn’t seem to notice. “And he was well-loved in this town.” The look she gave me was meaningful. “So were you, for that matter. I always believed that was another reason why he didn’t bring you back here.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but it was clear from the way she drained her cup and began to put on her three layers of scarves and coats the conversation was over. I signaled for the check.

A
NNIE
AND
I said our good-byes in front of Colleen, who immediately led her into an inner sanctum of the station I wasn’t allowed to enter. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long before Sheriff Curtis let me in.

“You’re a bit early, the fire chief’s not here yet, I’m afraid.” He offered me a chair. “But I can tell you the fire started in the hearth.”

I sat, considering what that meant. “So, not vandalism.”

Curtis indicated the coffee machine on a filing cabinet below his window, but I declined. “And not murder either, by the looks of it. We still don’t know who she was. They found the remnants of a backpack beside what’s left of the fireplace, but it was too burnt to offer any ID.”

“So, maybe a hiker caught in the blizzard?”

“Maybe,” the sheriff said. “Or a runaway.” I didn’t want to think about that, about her being young enough to have run away from home. He pulled out a file and indicated where I should sign. There were documents for everything, it seemed, and I forgot what I signed as soon as I moved on to the next one. “Chief Harper will be here soon if you’d like to talk to him.”

I shrugged. Part of me felt terrible for this girl whose family might never learn what happened to her, if she’d had any family at all. Mostly, I just wanted it all to be over with: a selfish sentiment if there ever was one.

Just as I scribbled my signature on the last piece of paper, there was a knock on the door. “Come,” Curtis called, and in stepped a handsome fifty-something man with white-blond hair and a pair of the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.

“Chief, this is Mr. Wood.”

“Jason,” I said, rising to my feet and holding out a hand.

He shook it. “Marc.” The chief nodded once and took the chair Curtis indicated. “Any more news?”

“Nothing,” the sheriff said. “Mr. Wood is just finishing up with the paperwork.”

“I have some more,” Marc said with an apologetic little smile. “Statements that you can’t enter the house since it’s structurally unsound, and you’ll have it torn down as soon as weather permits. Was it insured?”

“No.” I took the file from him and opened it. “I canceled the insurance once my father died.”

“I understand. Usually we charge a fee if we need to come out, but in this case I’ll waive it. It wasn’t like we could do much.”

Resolved to send a nice donation to the fire department of Houghton as soon as I was back in Traverse City, I asked, “Do you have any idea what might’ve happened? I mean, it was snowing. How could a house burn down that fast?”

“We’d had one of the hottest and driest summers in a hundred years. The outside of the house was wet but inside everything was cork dry. The chimney was more than likely blocked, since it hadn’t been used for over a decade.”

“Longer. Dad and I were only ever here for the summer.”

Marc nodded, spreading his hands. “At first we thought it wasn’t accidental, because the girl was found in the hallway with a head wound, but it looks like she’d been in a sleeping bag by the hearth. The smoke would’ve been disorienting, and she might’ve crawled in the wrong direction.” Marc pressed his lips together. “A house like that can burn down in ten minutes if a fire is left unattended. At this point, we’re fairly sure it was a tragic accident. I’m sorry, Jason.” I nodded. What could I say to that? It wasn’t me he should be sorry for.

Documents were signed, photocopies were made, I promised to have the house torn down as soon as the weather permitted, and then I was out in the parking lot. It was over.

Henry’s Avalanche was where I’d left it, and I climbed inside. There used to be a real estate office about a mile from the clinic. Maybe it still existed. Contemplating the quickest route there, I started the engine and turned toward the lift bridge.

Chapter 9

P
ASTRIES
,
CHOCOLATES
,
and desserts may be my specialty, but that didn’t mean it was all I could do. By the time Henry came home, there were potatoes roasting in the oven, together with carrots, parsnips, and whole garlic cloves, drizzled with olive oil, rosemary, and marjoram. The steaks were nearly done and so was the pepper and mushroom gravy, when he wrapped his arms around me from behind.

“Mm, smells delicious.” He buried his nose in my neck and inhaled deeply. “And the food, too.” He shifted his hips against my backside, growing hard, and I gasped, head swimming with want. It was tempting to let it all go cold and take him upstairs. Turning in his arms, I opened my mouth to say just that when his stomach growled. He grinned sheepishly.