by Beverly Long
But still he said nothing. Just looked at her.
“What?” she demanded.
“Fine,” he said.
“‘Fine’ as in how I say fine but I don’t really mean that it’s fine or ‘fine’ it’s really fine.”
“Could you repeat that?”
“No. You know exactly what my question was.”
“‘Fine’ as in last night and this morning was pretty terrific. I’d like to think that you thought so, too. That’s about it. Ask anybody. I’m not terribly complex.”
Was he telling the truth? Had it just been good sex to him? She fought off the wave of disappointment. She should be happy. He was offering exactly what she had said that she wanted. Exactly what she really thought she wanted.
“Okay, well, I’m glad we got that settled. We should take off. The store opens in less than an hour.”
“Ready when you are,” he said, shoving his half-eaten breakfast to the side.
* * *
Light and easy. The words pulsed in his head as she drove to her boutique. He was pretty sure that’s how she’d described the fabric of one of the dresses at the fashion show. Or maybe that had been light and breezy. In any event, he didn’t like the sounds of it.
It sounded inconsequential. Unimportant. Not memorable. Fluff.
Not how you wanted something that had shaken you, maybe even changed you forever, to be described. But if he’d articulated that, two things might have happened. She might have been amused, which would have been bad, or she might have been scared off, which would have been much worse.
He could do light and easy. And somehow convince her that a relationship with him didn’t have to be heavy and complicated. A stone around her neck. He’d be a veritable pebble, skipping across a calm lake.
When they got to the boutique, Jasmine was already there. He walked through the store and followed his nose to the coffee that was brewing in the back room. On the table, there was a gift basket, still wrapped up tight, with a colorful ribbon cascading from the top. Megan had followed him back, to stow her purse in one of the cabinets, and she stopped when she saw it.
“How pretty,” she said. “Oh, it’s from Abigail,” she said, looking at the card. She pulled at the bow and peeled back the layers of cellophane.
Inside was a chocolate bonanza. A huge box of assorted milk chocolate candy. A tin of hot chocolate mix. A bag of chocolate cookies. Chocolate-covered pretzels. And more stuff underneath that layer. While he wasn’t a chocolate connoisseur, he recognized many of the brands. He watched as Megan picked through everything. When she was finished, she looked a little puzzled.
“What’s wrong?”
She waved a hand. “Nothing. It’s just that Abigail knows that I don’t eat any chocolate besides dark chocolate and there’s none in here. But that’s fine. It’s the thought that counts. It will be a great treat for the staff.” Megan started to unwrap the large box of assorted chocolates.
“Stop,” he said. “Put it down.”
Now she looked really confused.
“Text Abigail and thank her for the basket,” he said.
“Right this minute?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He had a bad feeling about this.
“Fine,” she said, pulling her phone from her purse. She keyed in the text and pressed Send. Almost immediately, her phone dinged with a response. She read it. Then handed her phone to him. It said, I didn’t send a basket but it sounds divine. Hope you enjoy.
“I don’t understand,” Megan said.
He glanced at the two-by-two card. Blank except that Abigail was typed, right in the center. “Do you know any other Abigails?”
“No.”
He continued to stare at the name. Typed. As if it had been ordered from a vendor and they’d prepared the card. But what was weird about that was that it was an assortment of brands. He’d ordered a few of these baskets over the years, sometimes for his mom, sometimes for a girlfriend, but almost always they came from a particular vendor and all the chocolates were produced by that vendor. This looked as if someone had accumulated items and put them in a basket—a do-it-yourself kind of deal. But then why go to the trouble of typing a card? Why not just scrawl a name?
Because they suspected their writing might be analyzed, was the easy answer.
“I’m not exactly sure what’s going on but clearly, somebody sent this and wanted you to think it was from Abigail. I can’t think of too many reasons to do that unless there’s something wrong with the items in the basket.”
“A bomb?” she whispered.
He didn’t think so. She’d already picked up every single item and nothing had exploded. “Can you ask Jasmine how this got here?”
“Sure.” She left the room and was back within a minute. “It was outside the door when she arrived. As if someone had dropped it off.”
The camera outside her door might be helpful. “Call your landlord. Ask him if he can provide us a copy of the security tape.”
“He’s going to want to know why.”
“Tell him the truth. Some of it. That a basket was left without any identification and you’re attempting to figure out who left it.”
“Don’t you think he’ll think that I’m making too big a deal out of it? I mean, I barely know this man. Weston has done all the negotiating on the leases.”
“He might. And if he balks, let it go. The police can always ask for it. But maybe it’s just the push of a couple buttons on his phone and he can send it over to you.”
“The police?” she asked. “We’re calling the police?”
“Yes. We need to have these things looked at. I’ll call them while you get the store ready to open.” He could tell she was upset and he didn’t want her hearing him explain the situation to authorities.
“We open in forty-five minutes. Having police cars out front is not going to endear me to customers.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure that’s your biggest problem.”
She nodded. “I guess you’re right,” she said dully before she turned and walked from the room.
He picked up his cell phone and dialed his friend Bobby Bayleaf.
“Bayleaf,” he answered.
“I need a favor,” Seth said.
“You’ve needed a few of those lately,” Bobby said good-naturedly.
“I know. And the requests just keep getting odder.” Seth explained the situation to Bobby, who listened carefully.
“Make sure nobody else touches it,” Bobby said when he finished. “I’ll make a call to the Albuquerque PD and see if we can’t expedite a lab test.”
“Thanks, my friend.”
The boutique was set to open in ten minutes. He went to find Megan. She was behind the cash register, chatting with Jasmine. Two other employees had arrived as well and they were talking near the front window.
It all looked very normal.
And maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing. He hoped so. After all, the box of assorted chocolates had been wrapped in clear film and Megan surely would have noticed if it had appeared to have been previously opened.
But if it had, easy enough to fix, his head told him. For somebody with bad intent and plastic film. He should have examined the package closely before Megan unwrapped it. If he had, maybe he’d have seen something.
He waited until he caught Megan’s eye and then motioned to her. Then he took his spot along the back wall, where he could see the entire store. She joined him. Her posture was tense and her jaw was tight—so different from the relaxed, sated woman he’d held in his arms this morning.
But he took a deep breath. Her perfume was the same. And just that little thing made him feel as if not everything had changed. “Did you get a hold of your landlord?”
“He didn’t pick up the phone so I sent a text.”
“L
et me know when he responds.”
“Are the police coming?”
“I hope so. Bobby Bayleaf is reaching out to them.”
“Even so, I can’t expect that they’ll hop right on this.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I suspect he’ll tell them that it could be related to an open case in Vegas that may be attempted murder.”
She jerked her head back, almost knocking it into the wall. “Murder?”
“If one of us was the intended victim of those gunshots at the Periwinkle, that’s the charge that could get levied.”
“It’s a harsh word.”
“It’s a harsh crime.”
“I guess so. And it makes more sense, then, why the Albuquerque police might take an interest.”
“You let me worry about the police. Jasmine is unlocking the door. You’ve got a boutique to open. Do your thing. Let me do my thing.”
She smiled at him, looking again like the woman that he’d made love to. “Super Security Man.”
“Maybe I’ll get it printed on a T-shirt.”
“Maybe I’ll design it for you,” she said softly. “Thanks for being here, Seth. Thanks for keeping me and others safe.”
Super Security Man. He could make a joke. Instead, he reached for her hand, careful to do it in a way that no one else would see. He gently squeezed it. “Your being and staying safe is important to me, Megan. Nobody is going to hurt you. I’m not going to give them a chance.”
It wasn’t a declaration of love—because everyone knew that wasn’t light and easy. But he hoped she understood. What was happening between them wasn’t inconsequential or unimportant. It wasn’t fluff.
It was real.
* * *
The police arrived about an hour later. Megan saw them enter, looked over her shoulder to make sure that Seth had also seen them, and went back to helping her customer. The boutique had been busy since they’d unlocked the doors. Like in Sedona, they were doing hourly drawings for prizes and that seemed to really bring people in. The idea of winning something had universal appeal.
None of the shoppers seemed overly concerned that the police were in the store and within twenty minutes, they were gone. One of the officers, wearing gloves on his hands, carried the chocolate basket, which had been placed inside a big clear plastic bag.
She completed the sale with her customer, put the woman’s items in a pretty sack and held the door for her. Then she walked to the back of the store and stood next to Seth. “They weren’t here long,” she said.
“Nope. They will let me know once the lab tests are complete. I told them we’d requested the camera feed from the front door and they asked me to share that with them if there was anything of interest. They said they’d do their best to see if there is any other available footage from nearby neighbors and street cameras.”
“I guess that’s that,” she said. “If there’s nothing wrong with it, I’m going to feel bad about giving it away. The staff here would probably have really enjoyed it.”
He said nothing. The door opened and two more women entered. “Duty calls,” she whispered.
And for the next ten hours, she worked. She was grateful for the business. The online presence they’d generated in the last few weeks combined with the promotional giveaways and the events that they’d sponsored had been enough to drive traffic to the store. And every customer who purchased something was given two coupons, one for themselves and one for a friend, offering 20 percent off on one item at their next visit. Hopefully, that would bring them back.
She had gulped down a quick sandwich at lunch after Seth had insisted that she eat something. He had to be as tired as she was. He never sat, just stood and kept a careful watch on everything that was going on in the store. He’d spotted a shoplifter midafternoon and alerted her to the fact that a woman had slipped several bracelets into her purse.
“Want me to shoot her?” he’d asked quietly from the corner of his mouth.
“Let me try this first,” she’d said. Then had walked up to the woman, smiled, looked at her purse and said, “I think something may have fallen into your purse.”
The woman had paused, then opened her purse and said, “Oh, I don’t know how that happened.” Within minutes, she’d left the store.
It was after eight before they finally got to do the same. Fortunately, they did not have to travel. They had another night in Albuquerque and then tomorrow would make the five-hour drive to Colorado Springs.
“I want a steak,” Seth said, sinking into the passenger seat.
“Find a place,” she said. And then followed his directions to a small restaurant two miles away. It was a one-story stone building with a big arched doorway and a heavy door. Inside, it was dimly lit, smelled like freshly baked bread and when the hostess led them to a booth in the corner that offered them some privacy from the other diners, Megan thought she might never leave.
“I may sleep here tonight,” she said.
“I’m sure you’re tired. It was a good day, right?” he asked.
“Again, better than we expected. It will make up for the days when there are a total of five customers in the store. I’m not crazy enough to know that those days aren’t coming.” She opened her menu, found a baked fish that she’d like and closed it. His menu was already at the edge of the table.
“Bottle of wine?” he asked.
“Since I’ve already decided to sleep here, why not?”
When the server arrived, they ordered. And when the wine was delivered, he tasted it and nodded his approval. Glasses were poured and when Megan took a sip, she almost sighed in appreciation. “This is good,” she said.
He clicked the rim of his wineglass to hers. “To the great success of North and More Designs.”
She smiled. “Two down and two more to go. But at least for the last one, we’ll be back in Vegas. On your home turf.”
“If you want to save some money,” he said, his tone casual, “we could forgo the hotel in Vegas and stay at my house.”
She put her glass down. “I pictured you as an apartment guy.”
“I was. But then my mom fell in her yard. I promised that I’d move in to her house, which is the house I grew up in, if she would agree to move to a retirement village. So I guess you could say that I’ve come full circle. Grew up in the house, left it for college, then the air force, then lived on my own for many years and now I’m back. Mowing the same yard I mowed when I was twelve.”
“Same lawn mower?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I upgraded last year. And did some work to the house. It had good bones but the kitchen and baths needed updating. All the carpeting got tossed and hardwood flooring installed.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely,” she said.
“I’d like for you to see it,” he said.
The words hung in the air. She would love that. But...
“You’re thinking that I’ve crossed the boundaries of light and easy,” he said.
It was exactly what she’d been thinking. “I just...”
“You seem to be having trouble finishing your sentences,” he said finally.
“I just don’t want us to go too fast,” she said.
He drummed his index finger on the table. Drank his wine. Said nothing for a few minutes. The server delivered salads but neither of them picked up silverware.
“I guess I’m just going to have to ask the question,” he said. “Is it because I’m a pilot who flies his own plane? Is light and easy the only acceptable arrangement because of that?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve been trying not to think of that,” she added, deciding that it was time to be brutally honest. “Fifteen years ago, it was a deal breaker,” she said.
“You were just a kid.”
“I was so angry. So very angry that my parents were dead, that the l
ife that Abigail and I had enjoyed was gone. I was grateful that Logan had lived, of course. But then, when he wouldn’t stop flying, I was even angrier. How did he not understand that the crash had absolutely torn my world apart? How could he contemplate making me live through that again? What if there was another crash?”
“All kinds of dangers in this world,” Seth said.
“I know that,” she snapped. Then held up her hand. “I’m sorry. Of course there are. Look at me, I could have been seriously injured when that car blew the stop sign. I had some time to think about that when I was trapped inside the vehicle, waiting for the ambulance. Listen, can we just talk about something else?”
“Will you tell me more about the car accident?”
“Not much to tell. It was a four-way stop. I’d stopped and was proceeding through the intersection. The car coming from the right didn’t stop and hit my passenger side. Hard enough that my vehicle flipped to the side.”
“Tell me about the driver?”
“A woman. She looked to be early fifties.”
“You would have gotten her name and address?”
“We didn’t exactly exchange information at the scene. I had to be extricated from the vehicle and then I was taken by ambulance to the hospital. After a CT and an MRI, I was pronounced healthy enough to leave and I got a cab home.”
“You didn’t call Abigail,” he said knowingly.
“No way. There was no reason for her to be upset.”
“Of course. Was there a police report?”
“Yes. That did have the woman’s name and address.”
“Was she local?”
“Actually, no. Her permanent address was in Vegas. There was a note on the police report that she’d recently relocated to Carmel but was temporarily living in a hotel.”
He looked puzzled. “Vegas, huh? You don’t think that’s odd?”
“What?”
“Her being from Vegas,” he said.
“You’re from Vegas,” she said. “I don’t think there’s anything strange about that.”
