“Lucy, honey, this has got to stop.”
“What do you mean?” she said.
“The healthy cooking. Sweetheart, you are a wonderful baker, but not when it comes to health food.”
“But I want you to be healthy,” she said. “I don’t want to lose you.” Her voice trembled slightly. Mr. Middleton let go of Lacy and latched on to Lucinda.
“Why don’t you leave that to me? I’ll watch my portions and up my exercise but, please, go back to the way it was. Look at our granddaughter; you’re killing her.”
They turned to look at Lacy at the exact moment she spit real brownie’s evil twin into her napkin. She wiped her mouth and gave them a sheepish smile.
“All right,” Lucinda agreed. “I suppose we’ll have to throw those out if no one is going to eat them,” she said, eyeing the plate of carob cakes.
“I’ll do it, Grandma,” Lacy said. She didn’t want them in the kitchen trash where their poison might permeate the real food. She gathered them along with her purse and keys and carried them outside, dumping them in the trash at the curb. With that settled, she picked up her pace and walked to the Stakely building, preparing to chip away at her endless amount of work.
The hours flew and she barely made a dent. All too soon it was time to meet with her new prospective tenant, the luthier.
He was already there when she descended the back stairs leading to the first floor. He stood in the center of the room, surveying the vast space. All she knew about him were the pertinent facts of his life: His name was Michael O’Donnell, he was moving from
Chicago
, and he made guitars. As the light fell on him she learned one more pertinent fact: he had red hair.
He turned at her approach and they sized each other up, eying each other’s hair. “Glory, I had to fly halfway around the world to find another ginger,” Michael said in a heavy Irish brogue.
Lacy tilted her head, studying him. He was younger than she thought he would be, but that wasn’t what bothered her. “Was it a hard trip trying to get away from the kids who were trying to steal your Lucky Charms cereal?”
His jaw slackened as if her question took him by surprise. “Are you making fun of my accent?”
“No, I’m in awe. Must have taken years to perfect it,” Lacy said.
“Are you not believing I’m from
Ireland
, Lass?”
Lacy shook her head. He pulled out his passport and flipped it open, revealing
Ireland
as his birthplace. He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her response.
“Okay, fine, you’re from
Ireland
. But that accent is as fake as the greenery in my grandmother’s living room.”
They stared each other down, Lacy refusing to budge in her belief that the accent was a front. At last Michael smiled, a self-deprecating little grin. “Okay, fine,” he said, all but the barest trace of a brogue disappearing. “I am from
Ireland
, though, and I lived there until I was five. Then my family moved to northern
Minnesota
. Cold up there, don’t you know.” Now he affected a heavy
Minnesota
accent. “But I’ve found that American ladies are heartily impressed with anyone from the home country, so maybe I play things up a bit.” He smiled again, flirtatiously this time. As a rule, Lacy had never found redheads attractive. Perhaps that was hypocrisy on her part, or maybe it was self-preservation. Two such strong tempers might be too much for the world to handle. But while she liked to think of her locks as more strawberry blond than red, Michael’s hair was a rusty shade of auburn. He had freckles, but they were limited to his nose. His eyes were large and brown, giving him an appealing boyish quality. Lacy didn’t find him appealing, though; she was put-off by his deception.
“Honestly, Mr. O’Donnell, I wouldn’t care if you’re from Mars as long as you’re a good tenant and pay your rent on time.”
The flirtatious smile slipped and something like dislike crept into his expression. “I am nothing if not fastidiously on time with my money. And I’ve never had any complaints before. About being a renter, that is.”
Lacy narrowed her eyes on him, trying to find the insult or innuendo in his statement. It was there somewhere, she knew it. Behind them the door banged open and Michael straightened.
“Look sharp, Lass, it’s the local bobby.”
Lacy bit her lip, forcing herself to turn slowly instead of whirl toward the entrance like she wanted. Jason approached them cautiously, assessing the scene and the man before him as he drew nearer.
“I’ve got papers, guvnor, I’m not an illegal. I know how your judicial system frowns on that sort of thing,” Michael said.
“Are you related to the pastor?” Jason guessed.
“I have a third cousin who’s a vicar outside of
London
,” Michael said, confused.
“Close enough,” Jason said. He stood in the background, hovering as Michael and Lacy finished their conversation.
“The police are attentive in this neck of the woods,” Michael commented. “Good to know. Hopefully there will be no crime or thefts from my shop that way.” He smiled and turned, surveying the space again. “I think I shall like it here very much.”
“Good,” Lacy said, and she genuinely meant it. He was exactly what their town needed, a young professional. He would undoubtedly draw music enthusiasts from neighboring towns. She hoped. “The contractors assure me remodeling this area won’t take long, and so far my building manager has been doing an excellent job of keeping them on track.” In truth her grandfather was a task master, but the contractors respected him too much to complain, especially because many were his former students. It was as if he still held some power over them that made them want to prove themselves.
They made a gentleman’s agreement, shaking hands with promises to sign a formal contract soon. Lacy and Jason followed Michael outside, locking the door behind him. Lacy startled at a loud roar and turned to see Michael speeding away on a Harley low rider.
“I have the feeling I’m going to be fielding a lot of complaints about that,” Jason said, but his tone was mild, at least until he turned to Lacy. “You really should not be meeting men alone here.”
“Let me guess; grandpa called you,” Lacy said.
“You should tell him he can’t have it both ways,” Jason said. “He can’t tell me to keep my hands off you and ask me to protect you at the same time.” He faced her, bestowing a wink and a smile. Lacy laughed, a little of the tension pouring off her. “Seriously, though. It’s not safe.”
“Jason, not you too. I’m twenty six.”
“There’s no magic age for safety, Lacy.”
“Nothing ever happens here,” she spread her hands wide, encompassing their town.
“We both know that’s not true. All I’m saying is that I want you to use a little common sense. No, wait, scrap that; we have differing definitions of what that means. Just be careful.”
She rolled her eyes, turning away so he wouldn’t see, but she was smiling. “How have you been, Jason?” She hooked her arm through his. At the very least they were friends, and the gesture was friendly.
“Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
Lacy braced herself. Was he dating Cindy now?
“I decided to take the detective position, and I have you to thank for it. After the frustration of being on the outside of that investigation, I decided I should be where I can make the most impact.”
“Jason, that is awesome and amazing news. Good for you; I’m so proud of you.” She gave his arm a squeeze. He smiled down at her and returned the pressure on her arm. “Why are you still in uniform, though?”
“Last day,” he said.
She whistled. “Momentous.”
He shrugged. They walked in comfortable silence until they reached his cruiser. “Can I give you a lift?”
“Sure,” she said. He opened the front door and she slid inside.
“No complaints about how you feel like a criminal in here?” he asked as he slid inside.
She shook her head. “This is the last time I’ll be riding in here. I feel oddly melancholy about that.”
“You want to know something? So do I.” They made the ride to her house in silence, but since it was less than two minutes there was no time to feel uncomfortable. They walked to the porch and paused at the door, facing each other like two high school kids returning from a date.
“I’ve missed you a lot,” Lacy said, deciding to take the bold approach for once.
Jason blinked his surprise. “Me, too. I mean I’ve missed you, not me.” He glanced away, drawing a deep breath. “Lacy, this has not been fun, this self-imposed separation. I want you to give me a reason to end it.” He scratched at his temple. “I’m making a mess of this.”
“No, you’re not. I’m the one who’s making a mess, the one who’s messed it up from the beginning. It’s just…” Her words trailed off as nearby a car door slammed. Jason and Lacy turned to look. It was possible that Lacy whimpered at the sight that greeted them.
Riley emerged from a cab, wearing a t-shirt and jeans that in no way looked worn or inexpensive. She came to a stop a few feet away, removed her designer sunglasses, and tucked them into her shirt, causing it to drag low on her cleavage. “Surprise.”
“Riley, what are you doing here?” Lacy managed to gasp.
Riley looked around. “I’m sorry, is this not my grandmother’s house? I was under the impression I was welcome here at any time.”
“Yes, but shouldn’t you be in
New York
with your fiancé and job? Far away? In
New York
?” Lacy said.
“About that. After our little weekend, I started thinking. If I thought the man I was about to marry capable of murder, then maybe I shouldn’t marry him.”
“And you’re here because…” Lacy said.
“Well, after I dumped Robert, I started thinking about a whole bunch of other things. Was my life going the way I wanted? Was I happy? Coming home worked wonders for you.” Her eyes flicked suggestively toward Jason. “So I thought I would give it a try.”
“How long are you staying?” Lacy croaked.
“Let’s put it this way: I dumped my fiancé, quit my job, and canceled the lease on my apartment. I’m here for the long haul.” She pointed her index fingers down as if to suggest she was rooted to the spot.
She walked up the porch steps and paused between Lacy and Jason. Resting her palm on Jason’s chest, she addressed him first. “Just so you know, there are no hard feelings, Jason. Oh, and that uniform is
hot.
” She turned to Lacy, smiling. “See you inside, Roomie.” With that, she breezed between them and walked in the house.
Lacy bent over, the air rushing from her like someone had jabbed her solar plexus. The world spun and spots danced before her eyes. Jason put his hands on her shoulders and lifted her straight again.
“Lacy,” he said, giving her a little shake.
“I think my tongue is swelling. Isn’t that one of the signs of a stroke?” Lacy asked, flicking her numb tongue experimentally over the roof of her mouth.
Jason glanced at his watch. “I have twenty minutes left on my break. You want me to go on a bakery run?”
She nodded, grasping his vest for support. “Tell them it’s for me and it’s an emergency. They’ll know what to do.” He took a step toward his car, but she put out her hands to hold him back. “Jason, I…” her words failed as she looked into his beautiful eyes. Today they were stormy, a turbulent mix of blue and gray.
Say it, Lacy, just say it.
“I need you to know that I…” Once again they were interrupted by Riley. Her head popped through the door like an apparition without a body.
“Lacy, I noticed that you have the big room. I think it’s only fair that since you’ve had it all this time I take a turn. I’ll be inside moving your stuff.”
The talking head disappeared and they were once again alone. Lacy turned to Jason with a look of horror. She pressed her lips firmly to his, the same way a wife might send her husband to war. “Godspeed, man,” she said.
He turned and sprinted to his cruiser. She stood on the porch watching long after he drove away.