by Linda Reilly
Sherry nodded. “And I’m thrilled that I found the perfect wedding favors through her. But I’m sure that’s not the reason you feel drawn there. It’s something else, isn’t it?”
Lara dropped her face into her cupped hands. She shook her head, then linked her fingers together on the table. “It’s as if…as if something else is going to happen. Something I’m supposed to know about. Something I’m supposed to figure out.”
Something I’m supposed to prevent.
Sherry’s face went from rosy to pale. She spoke firmly. “You have to stop this, Lara. Just wipe Bakewell off your mental map and stay away from there. Because, look—I’ll tell you the truth. I’m starting to get a bad feeling, too. A feeling that something’s going to happen to you. If someone hurts you, I’ll have to kill them myself, and it’s not the way I want to start off my marriage.”
Lara looked over at her bestie—the most wonderful, loyal friend she ever could have asked for—and saw her lips parted in a wicked smile.
“Got it?” Sherry said. “Are we clear?”
Lara nodded, but then shook her head. “I told Karen Chancer I’d go with her to her husband’s memorial service at eleven o’clock on Monday. After that I have to pick up my shoes at the bridal salon, and then I’m never going to Bakewell again. That’s a promise.”
Lara waited for Sherry’s scream, but it never came.
“I’ll accept that,” Sherry said with a slow nod, “but you have to do something else. You have to make things right with Gideon. You two belong together the way David and I belong together.”
Tears pricked at Lara’s eyes. “I’ll do my best, Sher. But I might have already messed things up for good.”
“You haven’t. Not according to Marina. Gideon just wants to understand, Lara. He’s terrified of losing you, terrified that you’ll put yourself in danger—again. Please, please talk to him. I think he’s waiting for you to make the next move.”
The dam broke. Lara felt hot tears sliding down her cheeks. Sherry hopped off her chair and wrapped her in a hug.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry, Sher. My problems are interfering with your wedding plans, and that’s the last thing I wanted.”
Sherry gripped her shoulders. “Listen to me. My wedding plans are coming together beautifully, and that’s largely because of you. No matter what else happens, David and I will be fine. It’s you I’m worried about. Now, you get your act together and talk to Gideon. Don’t make me call out the flying monkeys.”
Lara laughed through her tears. “God, no, don’t bring out the monkeys. I’ve seen your monkeys. They’re frightening.” She wiped her face with a napkin. “By the way, you said you had good news. What is it?”
Sherry’s face brightened. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. After David and I get settled in our new apartment, guess what we’re going to do?”
“I’m afraid to guess,” Lara said warily.
“Okay, then. I’ll tell you. We’re going to adopt a cat.”
Lara’s eyes shot wide open. “Honestly?”
“Don’t look so surprised. The only reason I couldn’t have one until now is because of mom’s allergies.”
“Sher, that’s great. And David’s totally okay with it?”
“Totally. I told you right after I met him that he loves cats, didn’t I?” She snatched a shortbread cookie off the plate on the table. “Now, why don’t you get that tea going?”
Feeling perkier than she had all day, Lara turned on the burner under the kettle. She grabbed another mug for Sherry, along with the specialty tea bags she’d bought at the Peach Crate. She popped another tea bag into the teapot.
“Whoa. These cookies are really good,” Sherry said, wiping crumbs from her fingers. “I’m so used to having Mom’s sugar cookies that I never try anything different. You got these at that place in Bakewell?”
“I did,” Lara said. “It’s called the Peach Crate. Very cute shop.” She thought of Felicia Tristany and her sweet little dog, Lily. And then of Karen Chancer, who was hoping to buy in to the business and become partners with Felicia.
The kettle boiled, and Lara prepared the teapot. Excusing herself, she went upstairs to her aunt’s room, the door to which was slightly ajar. “Want to join me and Sher for tea?”
Aunt Fran was sitting in her rocking chair, her gaze distant, Dolce nestled in her lap. Twinkles rested at the foot of her bed, deep in a soundless sleep. Lara went over and gently kissed his head. Twinkles opened his eyes briefly, then drifted back to dreamland.
“Sure. I’d love to join you.”
“Let me carry Dolce,” Lara offered, going over and lifting the black cat into her arms.
In spite of her aunt’s successful knee replacements, Lara still worried about her when she navigated stairs, especially going down. The staircase in Aunt Fran’s old Folk Victorian was steeper than most modern ones, and it also had shallow risers. Lara had almost slipped a few times herself popping downstairs in her stocking feet.
Sherry had already poured the tea. The fragrant aroma of orange and cloves filled the kitchen. “I love this,” she said with a grin. “A ladies’ tea party. Now, tell us what happened with that Megan chick, Lara. We’re dying to hear everything.”
They all sat down. Munster trotted in and claimed Lara’s lap. Not to be outdone, Panda padded into the kitchen and leaped onto Sherry’s knees, prepared to settle in for the long haul. Sherry smiled and rubbed his furry head. “Did Lara tell you David and I are going to adopt a cat?” she asked Aunt Fran.
“Not yet.”
“I haven’t had time. You just told me!”
They all laughed and talked about cats for a while. Then Lara related the highlights of her conversation with Megan.
“Forgive me for saying this,” Sherry said with a scowl, “but I think the woman’s a little warped. I mean, come on, are you telling me she doesn’t have any other friends? All of a sudden she’s latching on to you like static cling, and you’re telling me that’s normal?”
“I never went that far,” Lara defended.
“I know.” Sherry reached for another cookie. “I was being rhetorical.”
“Either way,” Aunt Fran put in, “it’s my opinion that Megan Haskell has been taking advantage of Lara’s good nature.”
While the two chatted between them, Lara’s mind wandered off.
I know who you are.
Who had dropped the cryptic message near Chancer’s body? Did they do it before or after he…passed on?
And the phone number—the one with the Rhode Island exchange. Did it have anything to do with Chancer’s death? Or did it belong to a disgruntled victim from one of Chancer’s sketchy lawsuits? The possibilities were endless—so much so that it was impossible to narrow them down.
The phone number. It was burning a hole in the pocket of Lara’s jeans. She itched to go to her tablet and Google it.
“Lara, what planet are you on right now?” Sherry demanded, waving a hand in front of her. “Because I think you left Earth a long time ago.”
Planet Crazy, Lara wanted to say. “Don’t worry. I heard everything you said. Well, almost everything.”
“Did you hear me say I’m leaving?” Sherry tested her.
“Sorry, no.” Lara rubbed her eyes.
Sherry rose off her chair and handed Panda to Lara. “Take charge of this cat. He might be mine one day. And don’t forget what I said about a certain lawyer, okay?” She slipped on her coat and gloves.
But this is Megan’s cat, Lara almost protested.
Whoa. Where had that come from?
Baffled by her own nutty thought, she started to get up to see Sherry to the door when Blue appeared suddenly at her feet. If she’d been a real, flesh-and-blood cat, Lara would have tripped over her.
“Don’t worry,” Lara said, aware that Sherry was gawking at her. “I’m goin
g to call Gideon shortly. You have my word.”
Blue faded before Lara could even wonder why she was there.
Through the door pane, she watched Sherry march down the porch stairs in her trendy black leather boots.
Chapter 29
“Sounds like you had a productive day,” Lara said, smiling at her aunt. She cleaned up the table and stuck the dishes in the sink.
Aunt Fran nodded. “Productive, but it also made me rethink my career. Up until now, I thought I’d be happy subbing. Now I’m not sure if it’s enough.”
“It’s a lot to consider,” Lara said. “Especially now that you’re writing a novel.”
Her aunt smiled. “Well, I don’t expect to finish my book anytime soon. But you’re right. Now that I’ve got my head into this writing gig, I want to try and make it work. Right now, though, I don’t want it to interfere with my day job, should I decide to look for a permanent position.”
Lara’s cell rang in her pocket, and she dug it out. Her heart smashed against her ribs when she saw who the caller was.
“Gideon?” She looked at her aunt, who immediately signaled that she was leaving to give her privacy.
“Hi, Lara. I’ve missed you,” he said hoarsely. “It’s been a long week.”
“I’ve missed you, too. Is everything okay at the office?”
“It’s not the office I’m worried about. It’s us.”
“I am, too,” she said in a lowered voice. “So, what should we do?”
“Well, it is Friday, and we do usually grab a bite to eat. I was thinking of asking if you wanted to go to the Irish Stew, but it gets so noisy in there, especially on a Friday night. We wouldn’t really be able to talk.”
But we’d be together, she almost blurted.
Except that he was right. Most times Lara didn’t mind the noise level at the Stew—it was part of the pub’s ambience. Tonight, though, they needed to talk. Really talk.
“Do you have something else in mind?”
“I do,” he said. “It just so happens that Marina made me a pan of her wonderful lasagna, all ready to bake. I think she was hoping I’d share it with you,” he added quietly. “I’ve got salad fixings, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got some frozen rolls. Besides, Pearl and Orca miss you.”
“I miss them, too. I have only two questions. What time would you like me to be there, and can I bring anything?”
“How about seven? And the only thing you need to bring is you.”
“See you then.”
After they disconnected, Lara hurried upstairs. Aunt Fran had retreated to her bedroom. Lara found her in her rocking chair, reading with Dolce in her lap. Twinkles was still on her aunt’s bed, but he’d moved closer to the pillow.
“Hey, I’m heading over to Gideon’s for dinner around seven.”
“Oh, good,” her aunt said, visibly relieved. “I’m so glad.”
Lara took a quick shower, then went into her bedroom to get ready for her date and figure out what she was going to wear. Most times their Friday nights were casual, a way to wind down and relax after a long week. Tonight, though, she wanted to pretty things up a little.
She perused her closet, flipping through item after item, not landing on anything special. And then it caught her eye—the dress she’d picked up the day she and Sherry had chosen her maid of honor dress. It’d been on the sale rack, marked down about a zillion times, until it became an irresistible buy.
The dress was navy, with small white polka dots and bell sleeves. Stylishly understated but not terribly formal, it was perfect for a quiet evening with the man she loved.
She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was five forty, which left plenty of time to get ready. Still wrapped in her terry-cloth robe, she dropped down on her bed and fired up her tablet. From her high perch, Amber gazed down at her. Eyes wide, the shy kitty looked almost ready to join Lara, but then settled in and contented herself with simply watching.
Lara had already removed Megan’s notepad from her jeans pocket and set it on her bedside table. She found the phone number Megan had written down entered it into Google’s search box.
A string of links popped up, but nothing that gave her a name. Not surprising. If the caller had been as secretive as Megan claimed, he didn’t want to be identified. Lara wondered if the number belonged to a burner phone—a prepaid throwaway registered to no one in particular.
Munster leaped onto the bed and leaned into her side. “What do you think, Munster?”
The cat’s response was to raise a leg in the air and lick it thoroughly.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re not going to be any help at all, are you?”
Lara needed to get dressed, but first she couldn’t resist Googling Chancer’s name. She’d done it before, shortly after Megan had been taken in for questioning, and about a thousand links had popped up. She’d scrolled through the most promising ones, even clicked on a few to see if they might disclose any useful tidbits. But nothing had struck her as being of any help, so she hadn’t pursued it any further.
Once again, pages of links appeared on her screen. Those five ominous words—the message supposedly found near Chancer’s body—scrolled through her head.
I know who you are.
Strange, considering that everyone already seemed to know who Chancer was.
He was a husband to Karen Chancer, formerly Karen Becker, a woman who ran her own small but successful gourmet food business.
He was son-in-law to Gary Becker, a local real estate agent.
He was the former employer of Megan Haskell, a sensitive young woman who’d become enraged when he ignored her flirtations.
Chancer’s reputation as an attorney had been well-established in local circles. If everything Lara had heard was true, he’d been a ruthless personal injury lawyer. She couldn’t help thinking of Tina Tanaka’s parents, feeling forced to shut down their restaurant over an incident that might well have been staged.
There has to be something else, Lara told herself.
Something beyond the obvious.
Something that went further back in Chancer’s past.
Lara sighed and turned off her tablet. She didn’t have time for this now. Later, after she got back home, if she got home, she’d spend more time looking into Chancer’s background.
Right now, she had only one thing on her agenda.
Gideon.
* * * *
“I can’t believe how delicious that lasagna was,” Lara said, dabbing her lips with her napkin. “Be sure to thank Marina for me.”
“I will. She was hoping you’d be sharing it with me. I was, too,” he added softly.
Gideon spoke carefully, almost as if they were strangers. The entire dinner conversation had consisted of the same polite chatter. They’d tiptoed around each other’s words as if they’d only just met. It was enough to make Lara’s heart crack in two.
Gideon gazed over at her, then raised his wineglass and drained it. Dark pouches hung beneath his eyes, and his face looked drawn from lack of sleep.
“Gid, we need to talk,” Lara said, hating the tremor in her voice. “Really talk.”
“I know. We do.” He cleared his throat. “Lara, as far as I’m concerned, nothing has changed. I love you as much as I always have. More, if that’s even possible.”
“I feel the same,” she said, but it came out in a shaky whisper.
He rose from his chair, kissed her temple lightly, and carried their plates over to the sink. “Why don’t you go in the living room and visit with Pearl and Orca. Give me a minute to stick these in the dishwasher, then I’ll join you.”
Normally Lara would protest at letting him clean up the dishes on his own—they usually worked in tandem. Tonight, she was too stressed and too weary to argue.
Five minutes later, Gideon joined her
on the sofa. Pearl was sprawled in her lap, her huge double paws extended in a lazy stretch. Orca, perched on the back of the sofa, was chewing on a strand of her hair.
Gideon laughed. “Lord, what a picture you all make. Best thing I’ve seen all week.”
Lara smiled at him and patted the sofa. “Join us.”
He sat down close to Lara, and they played with the cats for a while. When Orca and Pearl finally trailed off and climbed onto their window perch, Gideon snugged in closer to Lara. Time fell away, and they reminisced over some of their first dates, breaking down into giggles over some of the crazier things.
“Have you talked to Uncle Amico this week?” Lara asked.
Gideon’s uncle was currently living in a nearby assisted living facility. He enjoyed their visits tremendously, especially when Lara had time to bake something for him, like his favorite blueberry buckle. She’d grown so attached to the sweet, elderly gent that she thought of him as her real uncle.
“Gosh, I forgot to tell you. I talked to him Wednesday, and he had this funny lilt in his voice.” He squeezed Lara’s hand. “When I pushed him a bit, he admitted that he was getting sort of friendly with a woman who’d recently moved to the facility.”
“Honestly? Oh, that’s great,” Lara said with a grin. “I hope we can meet her one of these days.” Her smiled faded. “We still haven’t talked about the elephant in the room, have we?”
“Elephant?” Gideon said soberly. “I think of it more like a tiger.”
“Tiger Lara.” She reached over and took his hand. “That’s what you called me in grade school, remember? You got it from Tiger Lily in Peter Pan.”
“Of course, I remember. Did you think I would ever forget that?” Looking pained now, he said, “Lara, can I speak first? Then you can say anything you want, okay?”
Her heart slipped gears and went into overdrive. Was he going to give her an ultimatum? “Sure. Go ahead.”
I’m ready. I hope.
He took in a long breath, then spoke earnestly. “Lara, everything about you is what made me fall in love with you. The way you treat people with kindness and respect, your devotion to Fran, your passion for helping cats—not to mention how you use your artistic talent to help others.”
