by Cate Dean
“Look at my two beautiful men.” Maggie wrapped her arm around Kit’s waist, and he abandoned Martin for her, tucking his head under her chin. She leaned down and kissed Martin, smiling when she met his eyes. “Stay in bed, Professor. We’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
He watched the two most important people in his life walk out of the bedroom, Maggie chatting to Kit like he understood every word. From his rapt attention, he just might. They turned in the doorway, and Kit did something Martin had not seen before; his son blew him a kiss.
His reaction must have been amusing, because Maggie laughed, and waved at him before she moved out of sight. Martin waited to sit until he heard the front door close. It proved more painful than he expected. The shot Dr. Smith had given him was wearing off.
Ignoring the flare of heat, he bent over his right leg, eased his robe aside, and carefully ran his fingers over the scar left by a letter opener.
He thought it had healed well. Until his fall at the dig site.
The accident had been entirely his fault; he had not been paying attention, and tripped over equipment left out by one of the new students. Lying to Maggie about the cause had been his ego talking. Who wanted to admit to their wife that they had stumbled like an absent-minded schoolboy?
He should have gone into Canterbury to have his leg checked, after it happened. Instead, he had put it aside, ignoring the constant ache, until he fell again—this last time when a rung on the ladder leading down to the main site gave way. Of course, he landed on his already weakened leg, and had been awakened more than once in the middle of the night this past week, with hot pain stabbing into his scar.
The pain had forced him to cut his time there short. Pushing past it not only put his health in jeopardy, but Kit’s safety as well, because of his bloody ego.
“Time to stop the self-flagellation,” he muttered.
He distracted himself by looking through the basket, smiling at the sheer amount of food Maggie had crammed in there. After opening a bottle of water and drinking half of it, he settled back with one of her egg and ham croissants.
If he had to be trapped here, at the very least his stomach could be happy about it.
Three
The Ash Leaf was a welcome sight.
Maggie felt like it had been years since she last stepped inside, and when she opened the door, the familiar scent of lemon oil, old books, and the soft lavender from the potpourri she’d started using this past spring had her stopping to take in a few deep breaths.
“Mags!” Spencer’s voice turned her around. He waved at her from across the shop—or tried to. His arms were full of knickknacks. Ashton had been putting him to work. “Get that good-looking boy over here.”
She smiled, heading toward him. Halfway there, Kit recognized Spencer and started bouncing on her hip.
“Patience, Kit.” He gurgled and bounced faster.
Maggie had both arms around him by the time she reached Spencer. He had dumped his knickknacks and held out both hands.
“Hey, sport.” Kit squirmed to get to him. Laughing, Maggie handed him over, and watched her best friend turn into a pile of mush. “Who’s the smartest boy? Who’s the most handsome boy?” He lifted Kit over his head, and Kit laughed, his arms waving. “Ready to fly?”
Spencer swooped him around the shop, going in for a landing more than once. They had been playing this game for the last three months—though when he had hiked Kit up like that the first time, she’d nearly had heart failure.
Maggie joined them at the front counter as Kit came in for his final landing. Spencer had him on the lower counter, next to her laptop, sucking on a digestive biscuit.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am you had a boy, Mags. I wouldn’t have known what to do with a girl.”
“You handled me pretty well.”
“You were ten—and a shy, needed-my-worldly-expertise girl.” He winked at her, one hand rubbing Kit’s back, keeping him stable. “I molded you into the perfect best friend.”
“You were a terror.” She crossed her arms. “You spent the entire summer trying to convince me that ghosts were real.”
“Was I wrong?”
“I thought so at the time. How are the cats?”
Spencer gave her a look that combined frustration and fear. “They’ve taken over. I never see Manny, just his empty food bowl. And the other one... did she ever just—appear?”
Maggie fought a smile. “Sheba? All the time. I’m sorry, Spence. I should have warned you. Even for cats they are eccentric.”
“You will be taking them back, right?” He looked so desperate she couldn’t control her amusement.
“As soon as Kit can run away from them.” Or, more likely, run after them.” I promise.”
He let out a dramatic sigh. “I may not survive until then.”
“It might be sooner than you think.” Kit was already crawling like a demon, and she had a feeling he’d be an early walker.
“Speaking of ghosts, any sign of,” he sketched a capital A in the air, “lately?”
“Not since the night I saw her in Kit’s room. I don’t know whether to be relieved or not.”
“If he takes after his dad, he’ll probably try to communicate with her.”
“Spencer—” She kept from slapping his arm, since Kit now had his attention on them, the half-gnawed biscuit forgotten. “On the subject of dads, didn’t I hear that your parents are coming for a visit?”
That had him flinching. Maggie knew he loved his parents like crazy, but being an only child had its disadvantages—like all the parental attention.
“A stopover, between trips. Three years is too long, Mum said, to go without seeing her baby.” He rolled his eyes, but Maggie knew he meant it as a joke. “They plan to stay at a hotel near the harbor, thank heaven.” He had a neat, but small flat on the high street, on the tight side for two people. It would have been positively claustrophobic with two parents wanting to know every detail of the last three years—never mind adding two cats to the mix. “Please say you’ll bring Martin and Kit round for supper when they arrive. I don’t know if I can face an interrogation their first night here.”
“We’d love to, as long as it doesn’t involve stairs.”
Spencer frowned, and waved to Ashton Stewart as he walked out of the back room. “What are you talking—”
“In a minute.” She stepped forward and hugged Ashton. “The shop looks amazing. You did some rearranging.”
Ashton flushed. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought—it makes for a better flow—”
“You’re my partner, which means you get to make decisions like that.” She left Kit with Spencer and wandered, liking what he had done. Tourist groups would be able to herd through faster, and have plenty of impulse-buy items along the way. “It’s pretty close to what I might have done.”
“Let me show you our sales since you were last here.”
She followed him into the back room, not surprised to see the neat desk, with none of her usual piles. Ashton opened the spreadsheet on his laptop, waved for Maggie to take a seat. She was impressed; sales were up from the last two years, by quite a bit.
“What kind of advertising are you doing?”
“I’ve contacted more tour companies that stop nearby, convinced them to give Holmestead a go.”
“Brilliant. How is Shelly working out?”
He smiled. “She’s full time now. Lilli found a replacement at The Tea Caddy. You caught us on her day off, and Spencer came in to help me with a shipment that arrived a day early.”
“What was the bribe?”
“A baker’s dozen of blueberry scones.”
Maggie laughed—and heard it echoed by her son. “You went straight for the stomach. Good choice. This all looks great, Ashton.” She stood and hugged him. “Thank you so much for taking over these last six months. It’s been challenging at home.”
“My pleasure. Come back when you’re ready, not before. I can hold down things
here.”
“Before I forget,” she pulled an invitation out of her jacket pocket. “You are officially invited to the grand reopening of Blakeney Manor.”
Ashton took the card, his eyes wide. “Thank you, Maggie.”
“I want you to close the shop, so Shelly can come with you.” His blush told her that her suspicion was spot on.
“All right.”
She left him smiling at the invitation, and headed back out, pulling another invitation out of her pocket. Spencer had Kit on the top of the counter, tickling him mercilessly. Kit shouted with laughter.
“Torturing my son again?”
Spencer flashed a smile. “He asked for it.” His smile faded, and he picked up Kit, bouncing him in one arm. “What is the issue with stairs?”
Maggie sighed. Trust Spencer to remember the one thing she didn’t want to talk about.
“Martin fell at the dig site. Of course, he didn’t tell me, not until he could hardly walk for the pain.”
“Didn’t want to worry you, Mags.”
“I’m fine with being worried. It’s having his leg buckle when I don’t expect it that makes me want to slap him up the side of the head.”
Spencer pressed Kit against his side and covered his other ear. “No talk of violence in front of the innocent child.”
“I want to. I’m not saying I will.” She tickled Kit’s belly, and he giggled, squirming out of Spencer’s grip. Maggie caught him before he freed himself, and handed Spencer the invitation. “For you, and anyone else you want to invite along.”
He read the square card, studying the pen and ink rendition of the manor, then looked at her. “It’s really finished?”
“Almost a month ago. Ted Bayley and his team have been doing some last-minute refining, but it’s ready to open to the public.”
Spencer leaned against the counter. “What are your plans for that pile?”
“That pile is now a gorgeous home, thank you very much.” She flinched when Kit tangled his fingers in her hair and started tugging. “Mama’s hair is not a play toy, sweet.” She gently released his hand, kissing it before she flipped her hair over her shoulder, out of grabbing range. “My plans are to show it off for a while, maybe turn it into a high-end B&B. I’m still—”
“Making lists?” He grinned at her when she raised her eyebrows. “Never change, Mags.”
“Not a chance.” She balanced Kit on her hip and patted Spencer’s cheek. “You’ll need to dress up for the reopening.”
“Not a suit. You can’t be asking me to wear a suit.” He groaned, and draped himself over the counter.
Kit laughed, clapping his hands. Shaking her head, Maggie leaned over Spencer. She was happy to see his sense of humor back; the last few months had been rough for him.
“No suit, no party.”
“Fine.” He pushed himself up, let out an exaggerated sigh. “For you, I will endure the torture.”
“I appreciate your noble sacrifice.”
“You had better.” He winked at her, then bent over and gave Kit a loud kiss. “Don’t let your mum push you around, sport. Start standing up for yourself now.”
“Stop giving my son advice, Spencer.” She smiled as she said it.
“Just standing with my own kind.”
Maggie managed not to roll her eyes. “I’ll see you later. Enjoy the scones.”
“Oh, I will.”
She started to walk around the counter, then stopped to sniff Kit, backing up to grab one of the diapers she kept in a drawer. Just in case. “You need a change, sweet boy. We’ll go visit Lilli, and use her facilities.” Lilliana Green, the owner of The Tea Caddy, kept a supply of wipes and baby powder for her customers. Maggie tucked the diaper in her jacket pocket, then waved at Spencer and headed to the door.
The pedestrian street was busy, with tourists enjoying the last of the moderate weather. Maggie turned toward The Tea Caddy—and almost ran into the man staggering toward her.
He gripped her arm, pain tightening his face. “Martin,” he whispered, his voice broken. “Pembroke—need to—”
Harsh coughs cut him off, and he nearly dragged Maggie to the sidewalk when he collapsed. She managed to free herself, and backed away from him, ready to take Kit into the shop. Lilli appeared next to her.
“Let me have him, Maggie. You go, right now, find Ian.”
“Thanks.” She handed Kit over, waited until Lilli was safely inside. She turned, ready to sprint up the high street, when she heard him whisper.
“Peril.”
Her heart skipped. “What?” She crouched next to him. He leaned against the front of The Ash Leaf, so pale she expected him to pass out before he could answer. “Who is in peril?”
“Martin. Took—shouldn’t have. Need to—warn, keep him safe.” He inched one hand across the sidewalk, and Maggie saw the wrapped bundle.
“Maggie!” Spencer burst out of the shop, yanked her to her feet and away from the man.
“It’s all right, Spence. He can’t hurt me.” She turned to him, her voice low. “Call the clinic, and Ian.” She squeezed his hand when he frowned at her. “Please, Spencer. I think he’s dying.”
“Stay out of arm’s reach.” He pulled his mobile out of his front pocket and turned around, his vice low as he spoke to Ian.
Maggie sank to her knees, touching the outstretched hand. “What is your name?”
“Clive,” he whispered. “Take—this.” He nudged the bundle closer. “Hide. Leave—before—” He doubled, clutching the sidewalk. His coat opened, and Maggie saw the source of his pain. Blood soaked the right side of his shirt.
“A doctor is on the way. Try to—”
“Out of—time. Pembroke—” He coughed again, looked at Maggie once he recovered. “Chose well.”
“Who is threatening him?” Maggie gripped his hand, his blood staining her fingers. “Please, who are you talking about?”
He looked at her, let out a ragged breath, and didn’t take in another one.
“No—” She reached forward, searching for a pulse. “Damn it—”
“Maggie.” Spencer’s arm wrapped around her from behind and pulled her up, tightened when she tried to free herself. “He’s gone, sweetheart.”
“He knew Martin, Spencer.” She leaned against him, her heart pounding. It took all her control to keep from shaking. “He said that Martin’s life is in danger.”
Four
It took Martin longer than he wanted to reach Maggie and Kit.
After Spencer’s abrupt call, only telling Martin to get to the shop before he rang off, Martin had been in a near panic. If anything happened to them—
He had been forced to dig out the cane he used after his first injury. Thankfully, his leg worked well enough to drive the Rover with little difficulty. He parked as close to the high street as he could get, and hobbled the rest of the way.
It wasn’t hard to find Maggie; she stood in the midst of a crowd of people, talking to Ian. Relief washed through him when he saw her, Kit tucked safely in her arms.
Dread followed on its heels when he saw the ambulance parked beyond the shop.
Spencer spotted him, made his way through the crowd. “Maggie and Kit are fine.” He took Martin’s arm, guided him back toward Maggie. “A man died in front of the shop.”
Martin knew there had to be more to it, but he would wait.
When he reached the center of the crowd, he limped over to Maggie. She saw him, her blue eyes bright with tears, and reached him before he’d taken two steps.
“Martin.”
He wrapped his arm around them both, kissing the top of Kit’s head.
“What happened?” He kept his voice low, but Ian must have heard him. The Detective Inspector joined them, his notebook in one hand. “Ian.”
“Your wife had an adventure his morning.” He glanced at Maggie.
“He collapsed in front of my shop, Ian.”
“Right. There is no identification, but I’m running his fingerprin
ts. He didn’t say anything to you, Maggie?”
She shook her head, but avoided his eyes, and Martin knew she was lying. “He was whispering something, but he—passed away before I could get close enough to hear.”
“And the blood on your hand, it was from checking his pulse?”
“Yes.” She did look at him for that answer, her chin up. “I had Spencer call Dr. Smith, but it was too late by the time he got here.”
Ian studied her for a long minute, then nodded. “I want you to come by later and give your official statement.”
“I will.”
He nodded to Martin, then left them. Martin waited until he was out of earshot before he looked down at her.
“What aren’t you telling him, Maggie?”
“Not here. Please, Martin,” she said, when he raised an eyebrow. “Not here.”
Her sober tone, and the intensity in her normally clear blue eyes, told him that what she had to say would be best said in private.
“I have the Rover parked just up the street.”
“Wait here. I need to let Spencer know I’m leaving.”
He watched her walk over to the door of the shop, where Spencer stood, his arms crossed. Once Maggie started talking, his frown deepened. Martin could tell that her best friend was not happy with her.
Spencer pointed at him; after a long hesitation, Maggie nodded. With a sigh, he hugged her, tickled Kit under the chin, and let her go.
She walked back to Martin, Kit still smiling from his interaction with Spencer.
“Let’s go home.”
***
Maggie forced herself to stay calm.
Life had been peaceful, with Kit as the center of their world. This stranger, showing up in front of her shop, had shattered that peace with his warning.
Any threat to Martin was a threat to her. To their son.
She was so focused on controlling her own turmoil that she almost missed the driveway.
“Maggie.” Martin’s quiet voice jerked her back, and she swerved in time, straightening out as she made her way down the long driveway. “I want you to put Kit down before we talk.”
