by Lisa Jackson
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious, Katie. You know the police have been talking to Ray Dean and he’s bad news.”
Katie knew everything there was to know about Ray Dean, his estranged wife and their two sons.
Ray was a criminal, convicted of theft, burglary and suspected of being involved in other crimes that had never been solved. But he’d never been caught with a weapon or had anything to do with violent crimes. Nothing like kidnapping. Or murder.
“Just tell me you’ll keep me posted,” Katie nagged and heard her brother swear under his breath.
“I don’t know what good will come of it.”
“Only give my career the biggest shot in the arm of its life.”
“Didn’t I stupidly promise that if I find out anything,” he said reluctantly, “I’d let you know?”
“I believe the exact words were that you’d give me ‘an exclusive.’”
“You got it.”
“Great,” she said without a lot of enthusiasm, as time was ticking by and she was afraid this case might just end up as an unsolved mystery.
For the next few minutes they talked about the twins, their mother and Josh, then hung up. Grabbing her recorder, notepad, and purse, she flew out the door to where her father’s Jeep was parked. The rig was hot, having sat in the sun all day, and Katie made a mental note to find another vehicle. She hated being obligated to anyone, even the man who had sired her.
Katie spent the next two hours interviewing Octavia Nesbitt. With honey-gold-colored hair that was teased to stand away from her small head, oversize glasses, and a big, toothy smile, Octavia was one of Bittersweet’s leading citizens. In three-inch heels she was barely over five feet and Katie had never known her not to be dressed as if she were going to the opening of a Broadway play. At eighty, Octavia had the energy of a thirty-year-old, and she wasn’t satisfied until she’d walked Katie through her house—the old Reed estate—and had given her a guided tour of her rose garden and greenhouse.
They drank tea during the interview and after the cups were drained, Octavia read the tea leaves that had settled in the bottom of Katie’s porcelain cup.
“You’re involved in an affair of the heart,” she observed, lifting a penciled eyebrow above the top of her thick glasses. “And this man is very special to you.”
Katie blushed to the roots of her hair. “Anything else?”
“Mmm.” Her brow knitted and her lips puckered. “I can’t make it out, but I’d say there was danger in your future.”
Katie’s heart nearly stopped, then she shook her head as she reminded herself she didn’t believe in such nonsense as reading tea leaves, or palms or any other spiritual mumbo jumbo. Still, the odd sensation stuck with her as, after the extended interview, she explained that she was meeting her half-sisters for lunch and Octavia told her to say hello to Tiffany. “Darling girl,” she said. “The apple of my eye, and her children . . . so dear. But her mother is such a proud woman—wouldn’t take any help from me when she was raising Tiffany. Insisted on doing it on her own. Kind of a martyr, if you ask me. But ... eventually Tiffany will get her trust fund and Rose will just have to accept it. Well, enough of that . . .” Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that she’s marrying J.D.”
“She’s happy, I think.”
“As well she should be.” Octavia clapped her beringed hands and looked skyward. “She deserves it. Now—” her owlish eyes fell on Katie again as they walked to the Jeep “you be careful.” She touched Katie lightly on the arm. “Whatever it is you’re getting yourself into, it’s perilous.”
“I’ll be fine,” Katie assured her, but left with an uneasy, nagging sensation that wouldn’t let go of her. So what if the older woman saw danger in the bottom of a porcelain cup? “There’s nothing to it,” she told herself as she drove through the lazy streets of Bittersweet. “Nothing.” Reading tea leaves was just the older woman’s way of passing time.
But she saw that you were involved with Luke.
“Lucky guess,” Katie assured herself as she wheeled into the restaurant parking lot. She locked the car and half jogged to the front door of the little cottage that had been converted into an eatery. Filled with antiques, books and ferns, Claudia’s was known for its special soup of the day and cozy, intimate atmosphere.
Tiffany and Bliss were already in a corner booth, chatting as if they’d been friends forever instead of wary siblings who’d only recently discovered that they were related. Over the course of the summer, Tiffany had warmed to Bliss and the animosity that she originally had felt toward John Cawthorne’s only “legitimate” daughter had all but disappeared. Slowly, the walls holding them apart were crumbling.
“We had a fabulous time,” Bliss was saying as Katie slid into the booth and sat next to Tiffany. “I’ve been to Hawaii before, but Mason hadn’t and—” she sighed dreamily, her honeymoon still fresh in her mind “It was different, being there with someone you love. We want to go back there when we can spend more time. Hi, Katie.”
“Sorry I’m late.”
“Not a problem. I took a chance and ordered you an iced tea.”
“Thanks. So what were you talking about? Your honeymoon, right?”
Tiffany winked at Katie. “I’m trying to get all the details from her.”
“Come on, spill ’em,” Katie encouraged. “I hear Hawaii is way beyond romantic.”
Bliss’s cheeks turned a soft rosy hue. “It is. We snorkeled and rented a catamaran, and took long walks along the beach. Maui was breathtaking. You’re in a mountain jungle one minute and in a resort on the beach the next.”
“I’d love to go there,” Tiffany said wistfully.
“Why don’t you?” Bliss reached into her purse and came up with a handful of brochures and slapped them onto the table. “Take it from me, it’s the perfect place for a honeymoon.”
“With Stephen and Christina?” Tiffany thumbed through a brochure with a picture of a couple lying on the sand beneath a palm tree and staring at an aquamarine surf.
“No way. They can stay with me,” Katie offered, then turned to Bliss. “You didn’t take Dee Dee, did you?”
“Not this time, but we plan to the next.”
“See. You can do the same,” Katie told Tiffany as a waitress dressed in khaki slacks and a black T-shirt served them the iced tea. “Oh, jeez, I haven’t figured out what I want,” Katie said, opening her menu while her half-sisters ordered.
She settled on a French-dip sandwich, while Bliss ordered a Caesar salad and Tiffany chose a fruit plate and a bowl of soup. Bliss insisted Tiffany keep the information on Hawaii and Tiffany slipped the pamphlets into her purse. Conversation never lagged. Lunch was served and they ate and caught up, laughed and talked about everything and nothing. Katie felt a warm glow inside; as much as she’d loved her half-brothers growing up, she’d always wanted and needed the intimacy only a sister could inspire.
“Your grandmother says hi,” Katie said to Tiffany, explaining about her interview with Octavia. “She’s an interesting woman.”
“Beyond interesting,” Tiffany observed. “Did she give you a cup of tea, then read your fortune?”
“Yep.” Katie grinned. “How’d you know?”
“She’s done it to me for years. Let me guess She saw romance in your future, right?”
“Yeah.”
“What else?”
Katie thought of Octavia’s concerns about danger, then decided to dismiss them. It was all nonsense, anyway. “Not much.”
Tiffany lifted a disbelieving brow. “That’s odd. She usually comes up with two or three predictions. It’s her passion.”
“Now there’s a good topic,” Bliss said. “Passion. Why don’t you fill us in on this romance you’ve got going with Luke Gates.”
Katie nearly choked on a swallow of iced tea. “I don’t think I’d call it a ‘romance.’”
“Looked that way to me. At the reception.” Bliss n
udged her plate aside. “Convenient that he lives in the carriage house.”
“‘Convenient’?” Katie repeated.
Folding her arms across her chest, Bliss pinned Katie with her incredibly blue eyes. “Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know if ‘convenient’ is the right word,” Katie hedged, “but, yes, since you’re asking, I like him. That’s about it. There’s really not much more to tell.”
Tiffany rolled her large eyes. “Who are you trying to kid?” Sending Bliss a conspiring glance, she said, “Katie’s been interested in him since he first came into town.”
“I remember,” Bliss agreed, showing off a dimple as she grinned at her youngest half-sister. “You were certain he was involved in some kind of mystery.”
“My imagination tends to lean toward the melodramatic.”
“Part of your charm,” Tiffany said.
“Then, at the reception, Mason and I both noticed that you were very interested in him and that the feeling is mutual,” Bliss commented.
“He’s an interesting man,” Katie admitted, determined not to reveal too much, though it was out of character for her.
“That’s it? Just ‘interesting’?” Bliss asked with a laugh. “Come on, Katie.”
“Okay, okay, a little more than ‘just interesting.’”
“A lot more,” Tiffany guessed. She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “And now you’re living right next door. If you ask me it’s pretty handy for a romance.”
Katie’s eyes narrowed. “If I didn’t know better I’d guess this was a plot set in motion by two kindhearted, if tunnel-visioned sisters who want me involved with a man.” She pointed her finger at the half-sister seated on the bench beside her. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who suggested I move into the main house.”
Tiffany giggled. “Guilty as charged.”
“Okay, okay,” Bliss interjected. “Tiffany might have gotten you to move into the house, but I had nothing to do with it.”
“Don’t look at me.” Tiffany shook her head. “I don’t play Cupid. I just needed someone reliable to take care of the renters.”
“I would hope so.” Katie brushed the crumbs to one corner of her plate. “Because you’ve got your hands full as it is. When are you and J.D. going to get married?”
Tiffany’s gaze slid away. “Soon.”
“How soon?” Bliss insisted. “You said something about this fall.”
Tiffany bit her lip and leaned over the table. “Our plans have changed a little. I think we might just drive to Reno and elope.”
“No!” Bliss’s eyes were round with dismay. “You have to have a wedding.”
“I agree.” Katie had always considered herself practical, but she had enough of a romantic side to think that there should be a little pomp and circumstance, white lace and satin, a wedding cake and flower girls.
“I did the big-wedding bit before. Remember, I was married to J.D.’s older brother. It’s like we’re already family.”
Bliss was having none of her arguments. “But you need a special day, an event, a rite of passage to start your life with J.D.”
Tiffany leaned back in the booth as the waitress brought their check. “We’ll see.”
“Really, Tiffany—”
“Look, Bliss, there are other complications, as well,” Tiffany said, then, hearing the edge in her voice, she sighed.
“Oh.” Bliss cleared her throat and Katie got the message.
“You mean you’re not going to have the big church wedding because you don’t want to deal with John.”
“What would I do, have him give me away?” Tiffany asked, her lips pursing. “That’s a joke, isn’t it, since he never even claimed me for over thirty years.”
Bliss’s chin hardened. “Have Stephen give you away. Leave Dad out of it.”
“Too late.” Tiffany tossed her napkin on the table and reached for the check. “John’s already asked to pay for the wedding, just like he’s been my father all along.” She lifted a shoulder and shook her head. “Maybe if this were my first wedding, maybe if there had been more time since I’d connected with him and accepted him as a father figure of some kind, if not a real dad, then maybe this would work. As it is, I think it’s best if J.D. and I scoop up the kids and steal away in the night. When we return a few days later, we’ll be married.”
“There is an edge of romance to that,” Katie allowed.
“Well, it’s your decision.” Bliss reached across the table and squeezed her half-sister’s fingers. “Don’t mind me. I just learned at an early age to speak my mind, even when I know that discretion is the better part of valor and I should be shot for being so blunt.”
“Forgiven,” Tiffany said with a wave of her hand.
“Good, then consider a big wedding.”
“I’ll think about it,” Tiffany promised.
They split the check and Katie headed back to the office. For the next forty-five minutes she worked on her story about Octavia Nesbitt and decided not to mention the tea leaves.
She checked her e-mail and regular correspondence, hoping that someone had answered her “For Rent” advertisement for the house she and Josh had called home for over a decade, or, on the off chance that Isaac Wells had tried to reach her again. No such luck.
By four o’clock, she’d met the following day’s deadlines, endured a late staff meeting and left work. Josh was at soccer practice and another mother had offered to drive him home, so Katie had an hour or so alone in the house, an hour she could use to clean and put away odds and ends.
She’d introduced herself to all of her tenants and was particularly fond of Roberta Ellingsworth, known as Ellie, an older woman who lived in a unit downstairs. On the second day Katie had been in the house, Ellie had brought her a home-baked pie and a cluster of asters, then promptly offered to watch Josh whenever Katie needed a hand. All in all, living in the old Victorian manor was beginning to feel like home.
Except for the fact that Luke lived nearby. Being this close to him was unnerving. And exciting. To her disconcertment she found herself looking out the window, watching his comings and goings, waving as he passed by a back window and dreaming of making love to him.
Don’t trust him, she told herself when she found herself fantasizing about him again. You barely know him. He could have a dozen women in a dozen different towns.
Chapter Ten
“That does it,” Ralph Sorenson said, his voice shaking with emotion. “Loretta and I will be on the next flight to Oregon. I’ve got to hand it to you, Luke. I didn’t have much faith in you when you took off, didn’t think you’d really put your heart and soul into finding Dave’s son, but you did it. And don’t think I won’t remember that I said I’d pay you.”
“I think you should slow down a minute,” Luke interjected, trying to tamp down the older man’s enthusiasm. “I said that Katie Kinkaid told me that Dave was Josh’s father. She told her son as well, but I think you should hold off coming out here until the dust settles.”
“Hold off? For the love of Pete, why?”
“To give everyone time to adjust.”
“Like hell, boy. I’m seventy years old. It’s up to the Man Upstairs how much longer I’ll be walkin’ on this planet and I don’t see any reason to slow down. By next month I could be six feet under.”
Luke doubted it. Ralph, though no longer a young man, was as spry and healthy as most men ten years younger.
“Why don’t you just give me the boy’s phone number and I’ll call him up?”
“Wait a second.” Luke’s head began to pound. “How about the other way around? I’ll have Katie and Josh, if he’s up to it—call you.”
“Why wouldn’t he be up to it?” Ralph demanded.
“He’s ten, for God’s sake. Give him a break, would ya?”
“I guess you’ve got a point.”
“Good.” Luke wasn’t convinced that the old man was actually listening to reason, but he had no othe
r options. “I’ll let you know how this all turns out.”
“Do. Loretta and I . . . Well, we don’t get along much. Been separated for years. When Dave died we nearly divorced, but we’re hangin’ on by a thread right now, Luke, and that thread is Dave’s son.”
“I’ll call.” Guilt squeezed through Luke’s innards as he replaced the phone. He’d have to talk to Katie again and this time he couldn’t be distracted as he seemed to forever be whenever she was near. Just the thought of her brought a tightness to his groin and a longing that he didn’t want to scrutinize too closely.
“You’re a fool, Gates,” he muttered and grabbed his hat from a hook near the front door. The excavating foreman was scheduled to meet him at the ranch to discuss the addition to the house, and he had just enough time to get there.
He’d deal with Katie, Josh, and Ralph later.
* * *
“Any more information on the Isaac Wells story?”
Pat Johnson, Katie’s editor, asked as he paused at her cubicle and leaned against the edge of her desk. He was all of five feet six inches, but he carried himself as if he were a foot taller. With a shock of white hair, round eyeglasses and small features drawn close together, he was far from Hollywood handsome, but his sharp mind, bright eyes, and quick wit compensated for his lack of pure physical beauty. Everyone loved him. Including Katie.
“I wish,” she said, but shook her head. “I’ve badgered the police and my brother and a few of Isaac’s associates, all to no end. I’ve even tried contacting whoever sent me the letter through the personal ads in the Review, as well as the local paper in California where the last letter was postmarked. So far, nada.”
“Too bad.” Pat removed his glasses and wiped them clean with a handkerchief from his pocket. “I thought it would be this year’s big story.”
“Me, too.” She offered him a smile. “At least I’d hoped.”
“Well, something could still break.” He slipped his spectacles back onto his nose and patted the edge of her cubicle’s thin walls before moving on.
No one wanted the story more than Katie. Despite the problems and distractions in her life—a new mishmash of a family of half-sisters and brothers-in-law, Josh’s attitude toward her, Dave’s death, and her fascination with Luke Gates—she was still anxious to solve the Isaac Wells mystery and get the byline.
