by Jessica Berg
Phoebe paused with the mascara wand hanging in mid-air. “That will only make me go slower.”
Grace steadied her bouncing feet. “It’s only going to melt off your face.”
Phoebe ignored her and applied lipstick, smacked her lips together, spritzed on perfume, and presented herself in front of her sister. “How do I look?”
Grace shoved Phoebe’s purse into Phoebe’s arms. With a last glance in the mirror, Grace tucked a stray hair behind her ear and stalked out of the room.
Phoebe followed with quick steps. “I suggest you remove whatever crawled up your butt and died. It’s making your attitude stink.”
Grace blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry. I’m taking my frustration out on you. I’m confused about Dominick, okay. I can’t stop thinking about him. And his little girl is precious. According to Annie, he dotes on her. She is his universe. That says a lot about a man. Kevin did all he could to not have children.”
Phoebe squeezed Grace’s arm. “Not every man is Kevin, Grace. When are you going to understand that?”
Grace unlocked the truck and scooted in. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I wish I wasn’t in this crap to begin with.”
Grace drove through the Dairy Queen drive-thru and ordered food for them and Dominick. A little peace offering might get him talking to her again. His behavior after the church service on Sunday sure hadn’t encouraged her, and yesterday he had only grunted answers at her questions. The playful banter and flirting were gone. It had been all business—water pipes, potential plumbing issues, and more squirrel babies in the attic.
Grace munched on her meal as she drove the old truck down the highway and onto the gravel road.
Phoebe eyed the third Blizzard. “Can I have it if Dominick doesn’t want it?”
“No.” Grace stuffed a hot, salty fry in her mouth. “A Snickers Blizzard fixes everything.” If only it would fix her pale skin and the dark circles sitting like bloated toads under her eyes too.
“How many notches are on his bedpost?”
“Phoebe.”
“I wasn’t the one who said it to his face. I’m not surprised he’s not talking to you. What on earth made you even say something like that.”
Jealousy.“I don’t know.”
Phoebe snatched a fry from Dominick’s bag. “He doesn’t need the extra calories.”
“That man has the metabolism of a teenage boy. Still acts like one.”
Phoebe checked her lipstick as the truck approached the driveway. “Someone’s got it bad for Carpenter Hottie.”
“Enough. You’re delirious again.” Grace parked in front of the house, slid out of the truck, and slammed the door.
Phoebe grabbed her bag and Nerds Blizzard and with a quick wave ambled off to the back of the house. Grace took the two remaining bags and Blizzards and searched for Dominick. After several inquiries and misleading clues, she found him perched on a ladder fixing the wiring in what would become her room. “Hey.”
Dominick pulled at his shirt collar. “Hey.”
She held out a bag and Blizzard. “I got you a burger and fries and a Snickers Blizzard.”
“No thanks. I’ve already eaten.”
A cooler sat in the corner of the room. She stomped to it and yanked open the cover. In it lay an uneaten lunch.
“What the heck?”
Dominick stopped fiddling with the different colored wires, pinned her with his gaze. “Tell me this. Why do you care?”
Grace stared, stunned. At a loss for words, she slammed the lid, threw his food and Blizzard out the window, and started to walk out. He jumped off the ladder and caught her arm before she made the doorway.
“Let go of me,” she demanded through clenched teeth.
His thumb rubbed the back of her hand. Goosebumps erupted. Unable to make eye contact with him, she watched his thumb caress her skin.
“I’m sorry.” He flipped her hand over, traced the lines intersecting on her palm. She shivered, heat she’d never known licked at her skin. She needed to escape. If she allowed herself this one moment with him, her defenses would crumble, and she’d be putty in his hands. He held on tightly. “Grace, please, I need to explain.”
Needing to protect her heart, her soul, from a man whose desires ran to another person, she whispered, “Let me go.”
He released her hand, his calloused fingers sliding against her skin. Without a word, he climbed the ladder, twisting the different colored wires. She leaned against the wall, unable to move a muscle.
She snatched her food and dashed from the room right into Dickie’s arms. She shrieked and jumped back.
“I usually don’t get that reaction from the ladies. I usually need to beat them off with a stick.” He smoothed the wrinkled yellow over-stretched material.
Flustered beyond reply, she squeezed past him in the narrow hallway. Just when she grasped freedom, a meaty hand grabbed her arm.
“Wait a minute. I got something I gotta ask you.” Dickie’s grinned at her, his face only inches from her own. “My wife wanted me to come by and ask if you’d be interested in going on a trip to an auction this Friday in Wichita. She wanted me to relay the message that there will be ‘oodles and oodles’ of whatever it is you’re looking for.”
It took her a second or two to realize she needed to respond to this man before she could be rid of him. “Yeah, sure, that’ll be great.” Glancing at her arm still held hostage by his clammy hand, she yanked it away.
Her run-in with Dickie was the best thing that could have happened. At least that’s what she told herself. Her spunk was back along with her determination not to let Dominick, or any other man, get the best of her. She needed to find Phoebe. Some comic relief would revive her. She found Phoebe on the back porch, wrapping up an intimate date with her Nerds Blizzard.
“And you think my infatuation with ice cream is creepy.” Grace scooted in beside her sister.
“I want to marry the person who combined Nerds and ice cream.”
“You’d end up marrying some snot-nosed high school booger-eater in need of a sugar fix.”
Phoebe chewed on her spoon and contemplated the idea. “Worth it.”
Grace rested her head against a porch railing. “We’ve been invited to go on a treasure hunt with Annie. I ran into Dickie, literally, now.”
Phoebe shivered. “He gives me the creeps. Is he coming with on this little hunt?”
“I don’t think so. He didn’t say.”
“Good. Then I’m pumped to go.”
They sat in mutual silence for several minutes, watching the trees sway in the gentle breeze. Insects surfed on the airwaves, constantly buzzing their glee. Mrs. Sloucombe sashayed to Grace and rubbed against her leg, purring for attention. Absentmindedly, she stroked her fur, deciphering what had happened between her and Dominick. The fear of failure, the unknown, had her retreating before she even took the first step. And what a delicious step it was. Her nerves still tingled at the memory of his fingers tracing her palm lifelines. Warmth flooded her body at the image of his fingers whispering up her wrists, following her veins up her arm, to peak at her shoulders and then …
She pushed herself to her feet. “Come on, Pheebs. Just a couple of more hours, and we can quit for the day. We’ve pretty much done everything we can do in the parlor and the dining room. The back parlor is too big of a mess right now for us to handle. We should start upstairs. I’ll take the nursery, and you can have the library.” She pointed to the small pond. “Dominick’s men will dig next week so the gazebo can get built. For some reason, they have to level the ground so something can do something else and yadda yadda yadda.”
“You’re on speaking terms with him now?”
“Nope. I simply talked to the next guy in charge.” After the shrubs and roses were planted, the gazebo would be the highlight of the place. “Time to get to work!”
“All work and no play makes Phoebe an extremely dull girl.”
“You, Pheebs, will never eve
r be dull.”
* * *
Grace pulled into the driveway two mornings later, the men too busy and too used to the old junker to even acknowledge the backfire from the tailpipe.
“I’m getting a little attached to this old thing.” Grace jumped out and stretched.
Phoebe kicked the door shut. “Yeah, I especially love the lack of shock absorbers and the air conditioning that doesn’t work.”
“It’s all part of the experience.”
And what an experience. Was this the same house they’d bought only two weeks ago? The entire first floor, gutted and cleaned, looked larger and promising. They ran to their respective bedrooms.
“Grace, come here,” Phoebe called from her bedroom.
Across the hall, Grace soaked in her new room. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.” Grayish blue paint gave the room a new life, and gleaming woodwork hugged the perimeter of the room. The bay window boasted a window seat, decorated with an antique vase bursting with blue bachelor buttons. Shiny hardwood floors glistening with polyurethane. A crow’s feet pattern marked the pristine white ceiling and crown molding stained to match the rest of the woodwork in the room elegantly separated the ceiling and walls. One door led to a small bathroom with bronze fixtures. The other door opened to a small walk-in closet complete with shelves.
“Grace, you need to come see this,” Phoebe called again from her bedroom.
“Coming.”
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
Grace, startled, placed a hand over her heart. The voice belonged to an acne victim no more than sixteen.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, ma’am. I was wondering if you’ve seen the boss around.”
The boss? Oh, yeah. “No, I haven’t seen Dominick for some time now.” Ever since he’d awakened a fire inside her.
“Oh, okay.” The boy, looking awkward and uncomfortable, studied his shoes. He kept opening his mouth to talk but kept closing it again. He reminded Grace of a guppie. “Well … I was wondering … since … well … do you like your room?”
“Yes, I love it. Did you work on it?”
The boy ducked his head and watched in fascination as his toe drew imaginary circles in the floorboards. “Well … I … we weren’t allowed to be in here.”
“What do you mean?”
“The boss told us this room was … special. He didn’t want any screw-ups. He was even out here during the evenings when everyone else had gone home.”
Her mouth went dry. She managed to thank the boy.
“Hey, Pheebs.”
“Isn’t this peachy?” Phoebe danced around the room. “It’s pink. Just what I wanted. Did you see my bathroom? Isn’t it great?”
Grace gave her sister a big hug. Phoebe’s room, nearly identical except for the bay window, lacked one thing—Dominick’s special touch.
* * *
Leo Muldoon sat outside the Super 8 motel and watched certain curtains blowing in the night breeze. How simple it would be to creep to the window and … Leo’s thoughts were interrupted when his iPhone chirped.
With a scowl, he reached for it, but upon seeing the caller ID, his face writhed into a cruel grin. My, my, my, little fly. How nice of you to fly back to my little trap.
Leo tapped the green phone icon on his screen. “Hello, my dear.” The voice of Andrew Carnegie drawled softly, “I’ve missed you.”
“Well, you were supposed to call last night, and you didn’t. That’s not fair, making me wait all night. I was worried about you.”
Leo lit a cigar. What a witch. Maybe I did old Jeremiah a favor by putting a bullet in his head. He knew she’d have her hand wrapped around a freshly-poured glass of scotch. He was also aware of what she’d be wearing. Too bad he was in the truck. Their Skype session would have to be postponed. But, some sacrifices had to be made for his revenge to be complete. And Delilah Wallace was the final corner piece.
“Now, honey, I’m sorry. I had to work late last night for these two nasty women, and well, I didn’t want to interrupt your sweet dreams.” Leo exhaled the cigar smoke. “Did you get my gift?”
He gagged at her soft cooings. Her cooings, though, soon morphed into suggestions. He flicked his half-smoked cigar out the window, shut it, and drove back to the hotel room he’d rented. It was time for the much-anticipated Skype session with the heavily intoxicated and scantily clad Mrs. Jeremiah Wallace.
Chapter 12
“There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”
Home? As Dorothy clicked her ruby shoes together on the television, Grace gazed around the hotel room to the suitcases stacked neatly against the wall, the pizza box from last night leaking grease onto the little table under it, and Phoebe’s dirty socks sticking out from under the bed.
Where is my home? Grace chewed her bottom lip. Her blue room at the old house was perfect, but could it be a home to her? Dominick had built it for her, used his hands on every inch of that room. His hands. She closed her eyes, imagined them smoothing over the woodwork, testing the softness of it. She swallowed. Shut down her imagination. After all, he was just a man she had hired to do a job. At the end of the project, he’d walk out of her life and into another one.
But this time, she would walk first. She stalked to the bathroom and readied herself for a day of antique hunting. As she shaved her legs in the shower, she resolved to leave him behind and continue the new life she’d started for herself.
Minutes later, she swiped the last of her mascara on her eyelashes and jumped at the knock on the door. Her heart hammered in her chest at the idea of Dominick outside her door, his handsome face and kind eyes seeming to peer into her. And that was the problem. She didn’t want him to see inside her, at her brokenness. Didn’t want him to see her fear.
Another set of knocks.
Phoebe called from the bathroom. “Will you get the door?”
Shoring up her defenses, she opened the door. Her heart deflated. It was not Dominick.
“Hey.” Lauren, the bride-to-be to mohawk man, waltzed into the room. “So, this is where you’ve been staying?” She eyed the carpet.
Grace laughed and shoved dirty clothes off the only chair in the room. “Pretty sweet digs.”
Lauren waved off the offered chair and rested a hip against the dividing wall between the bathroom sink and beds. “You know my wedding is in a few days, right?”
“Did I hear the word ‘wedding?’” Phoebe peeked her head out of the bathroom, her hair turbaned.
“Yup. Mine.” Lauren placed a hand to her stomach. “And the twenty million butterflies flying around in here.”
“Grace knows all about that.” Phoebe blushed at Grace’s glare and popped back into the bathroom.
“You’re married?” Lauren’s gaze flicked to Grace’s naked ring finger.
“Used to be.” She fingered the spot where a three karat diamond used to sit. Relished in the weightlessness of her finger. She’d hated the ring. Part of her had known it was a status symbol more than any representation of Kevin’s love for her, but she’d made herself believe it had. The alternative would have broken her sooner. “Things didn’t work out.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be.” Grace took a steadying breath. “Big day’s coming up, huh?”
“Yeah, and Bruce and I would like you to come to the reception. It’s at the VFW.”
She didn’t have the strength to face Dominick so soon. “Thank you, but I’m not sure we can —”
“Please, I would like you to come.”
She didn’t want to disappoint a bride. “We’d love to.”
Lauren gave her a quick hug. “Got to go. Lots of last-minute things to do today. Don’t forget.” She pranced from the room, leaving Grace in the wake of a bride’s fevered excitement.
Phoebe opened the bathroom door a crack and peered out at Grace. “We’re going?”
“Yes.”
She squealed, “I love going to weddings!”
Grace
grimaced. “Yeah, me too.”
* * *
Annie picked them up at the old house the next morning. Her plump little self looked remarkably silly behind the wheel of the Dodge Ram pickup. Pink fuzzy dice dangled on the rearview mirror, and bull’s nuts dangled off the rear hitch. Grace smiled to herself. No truck was complete without gonads and fuzzy dice.
“I’ve been waiting for this all week,” Annie chirped minutes later as they drove through Beacon, running the only red light in town.
A lumbering grain truck slammed on its brakes to avoid T-boning the shiny grey pickup with hot pink pinstriping. Grace’s life never flashed before her eyes. Either seeing a flash was indeed a myth, or she didn’t have a life worth a flash.
Unclenching her fist from her heart, she agreed. “Phoebe and I can’t wait to see what they have at the auction. How do these things usually work?”
“Oh, my dear, it’s like a jungle. Everyone turns into a rabid, hungry beast.” Annie sounded a little too thrilled. “Fights break out, and people sometimes leave with black eyes.”
Phoebe squealed in excitement from the backseat, “Awesome. I love watching people duke it out.” Phoebe fisted and un-fisted her hand. “I’m prepared to kick some butt.”
Grace spun around in her seat. “You can’t even kill a fly on the off chance it will come back to life and kill you in your sleep.”
Phoebe pouted. “So? Anyway, humans are different than flies. They stay dead. They do, don’t they?”
Annie chuckled, and the truck lurched toward the ditch. “Oh goodness, my dears, you two are a breath of fresh air.”
Phoebe grinned stupidly from the backseat. “Thanks.”
The majority of the one-hour journey included a few near-death accidents, a couple of motorists sending them rude hand gestures, and a few pit stops because Phoebe had to pee.
“Well, here we are, dears, fit as fiddles and ready for bloodshed.”
Grace untangled herself from the pickup and followed Annie and Phoebe into the arena. Booths selling everything from leather products to slushies dotted the outside of the giant oval. In the middle, people of every size, shape, and color milled excitedly and noisily around, studying objects and making wish lists on pads of paper. Smells of dough products baked by little old ladies, leather products made from little old dead animals, and just plain old things mixed into an odd-smelling stew.
