by Irene Hannon
“Sorry about that.” Heather took a long, slow breath, hoping the quiet of her garden would soothe her as it usually did. But today the perfect little world of tranquility and beauty she’d created didn’t have its typical calming effect. Instead, she had a feeling that her predictable, orderly life was about to change. “It’s just that I don’t have a clue how to deal with a thirteen-year-old boy.”
“You can’t do any worse than I have.” Her sister sniffled. “And I did think about asking Dad to teen-sit this summer, but he hasn’t been feeling well lately.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what was wrong with him, but Heather bit back the question. She didn’t want to discuss their father. He’d been out of her life for twenty years. Why should she care if he had health problems?
Reaching out, Heather plucked a tiny, insidious weed from from among the begonias. She liked nurturing the plants in her garden. Liked watching them flourish and grow under her care. And she’d learned a lot through the years. Including the fact that sometimes a plant needed to be moved to a different location in order to thrive.
She had a feeling the same might be true for Brian.
“Heather?”
Closing her eyes, Heather made the only choice her conscience would allow. “Okay, Susan. I’ll give it a shot.”
Her sister’s effusive gratitude was heartwarming, but as Susan ended the call with a promise to get back in touch as soon as she had all the travel details hammered out, panic began to gnaw at the edges of Heather’s composure. She was getting in over her head, and she knew it. But how could she turn down her sister, who was doing her best to adjust to a separation, settle into a new job and deal with a troubled teen?
At the same time, how in the world was she going to cope with a rebellious thirteen-year-old boy, who would no doubt be making this trip against his will?
As Heather gathered up her gardening tools, she caught a glimpse of the roof of the guest cottage in Edith’s backyard. And was suddenly reminded of the silent prayer she’d offered three days ago, asking God to give her something to think about besides the handsome cop.
She’d made a few other such prayers over the years. None had ever been answered, leaving her to conclude that the Almighty wasn’t on her wavelength.
Too bad He’d chosen now to tune her in, she thought with a sigh.
Forty-eight hours later, seated at a table in the noisy high-school gym, Heather was still having serious misgivings about agreeing to take her nephew. And after tossing and turning for the past two nights, she was in no mood to spend the next few hours answering stupid trivia questions, even if it was a fund-raiser for a student who needed a bone marrow transplant.
On the bright side, though, maybe the game would distract her.
Grabbing a handful of popcorn from the tub in the center of the table, she popped several kernels in her mouth, did a quick survey of the gym—and almost choked when she saw a familiar jeans-clad figure standing in the doorway.
What on earth was J.C. doing here?
Coughing, she reached for a glass of water.
“Are you all right?” Red-haired Kate MacDonald, sitting beside her, touched her shoulder in concern.
Instead of answering, Heather took another swallow of water, gulped in some air and glared at Edith across the table. The men had gone to get some soft drinks and more substantial snacks, leaving Kate, Edith, Julie and Heather spaced around the table for eight.
“Edith…” Somehow Heather managed to choke out the accusatory word.
The woman gave her a blank look. “What?”
Heather tipped her head toward the door, and all three women turned.
“My goodness!” Delight suffused Edith’s face, and she started to rise.
“Edith!” This time Heather said her name with more force. After one look at her, the older woman sat back down. “What’s going on? This event has been sold out for weeks.”
“I have no idea.”
Julie squirmed in her chair, and Heather transferred her attention to the dark-haired woman. “Julie? What do you know about this?”
A flush tinted her assistant’s cheeks bright pink. “Rose in Dispatch canceled yesterday. Todd invited J.C. to take her place.”
Shock rippled through Heather. “You mean he’s sitting here? At this table?”
“Yes.”
“We worked together all afternoon, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t think you’d show up if you knew.”
“She wouldn’t have, either,” Edith chimed in.
“Do I detect a bit of matchmaking here?” Kate gave the trio an amused scan.
“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” Heather muttered, trying to come up with an escape plan.
Chuckling, Kate gave her arm an empathetic pat while casting an affectionate smile at Edith. “I’ve been there. But, hey, it worked for me.”
“Don’t encourage her,” Heather warned. “She already…”
“Hi, ladies. I think this is my table.”
At the mellow baritone voice behind Heather, three pairs of eyes switched focus, while she kept her gaze fixed on the tub of popcorn. She’d expected to spend the next few hours sitting next to a middle-aged widow, not a handsome cop. The change in plans did not bode well for her peace of mind, which was already shaky.
“Well, sit right down and make yourself at home.” Edith gestured toward the chair beside Heather’s. “The men will be back in a minute. They went to the concession stand.”
Pulling out the chair, J.C. settled in. A faint whiff of rugged aftershave wafted her way, and Heather squeezed the napkin in her hand into a tight ball as her heart skipped a beat. This was weird. Even Mark had never had this kind of effect on her. And J.C. wasn’t even trying.
Now there was a scary thought!
“You know everyone here, don’t you, J.C.?” Edith asked, every inch the proper hostess.
“Yes. Julie served me my first tea, Kate gives me a great weather report whenever we meet, and Heather—” he directed one of those pulse-disrupting, half-hitch smiles her way “—taught me a few things about cats.”
“Cats?” Julie gave her employer a puzzled look. “I didn’t know you were into cats.”
“It’s a long story.” Heather was saved from further explanation by the return of the men.
Todd set a pitcher in front of J.C., and the dark-haired cop picked it up. “Would you like some soda, Heather?”
Grasping her plastic cup, she edged it toward the pitcher. “Thanks.”
Once her cup was full, J.C. reached past her to fill Craig’s, his sun-browned hand brushing hers. She jerked back as if she’d been burned, watching in horror as the soda in her cup sloshed out and headed toward her across the table.
Acting on instinct, she scooted her chair back—and collided with the man passing behind her, who was juggling a large tub of popcorn and a pitcher of lemonade. The popcorn rained down on her like a sudden summer shower.
Mortified, Heather closed her eyes, wishing she could melt into the floor like the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz. How much worse could this night get?
A giggle erupted to her right. Kate. Another followed on the left. Julie. She identified the deeper chuckle across the table as Chester’s.
Forcing herself to open her eyes, she risked a peek at the man beside her. The suspicious twitch at the corners of his lips told her he was struggling to contain his own laughter, and heat radiated across her cheeks.
All she could do was try to make the best of an embarrassing situation, Heather decided, accepting that she’d never live this down. Pasting on a smile, she gave a vigorous shake of her head, sending kernels flying in all directions. “Popcorn, anyone?”
J.C. released the chuckle he’d been holding back and plucked a kernel from her hair. “Interesting serving method. But I don’t think it would go over at your teas.”
She liked the way the skin crinkled at the corners of his eyes when he smiled,
Heather thought, giving him a good look for the first time. And at this proximity, she couldn’t help noticing the faint glint of gold in his dark irises. His strong, clean-shaven jaw also fascinated her. A faint shadow suggested he had a heavy beard. Would his skin feel smooth or textured against the tips of her fingers? she wondered.
Startled by a sudden urge to find the answer to that question, she shifted abruptly away from him, sifting through her hair with her fingers to remove the remaining popcorn. The subtle change in his eyes gave her the uncomfortable feeling he might have sensed her impulse—but that was impossible. The man might be a detective, but he wasn’t a mind reader.
When she discovered Edith watching her from across the table, however, Heather had a sinking feeling her neighbor had guessed her thoughts.
Meaning that while she’d unjustly accused Edith of setting her up tonight, there was a very good possibility the Lighthouse Lane matchmaker would be hard at work again in the not-too-distant future.
“David Niven, Cary Grant and Loretta Young.”
Every head at the table swiveled toward him as J.C. responded to the emcee’s question in the old movies category.
“How do you know that?” Heather gave him a skeptical look.
“I like vintage films.”
“I’ve never heard of The Bishop’s Wife.”
“It’s a classic Christmas movie. You should rent it sometime.”
“Unless one of you knows more than J.C. on this one, I’m going with his answer,” Edith declared, surveying the table. When no one responded, she jotted down the names of the three stars.
As J.C. reached out to pick up his cup of soda, Heather shifted slightly away from him. She’d been doing that all night, every time he got a little too close, sending a clear message.
Keep your distance.
It wasn’t because she found him unappealing, J.C. had concluded. Her hazel eyes told him she felt the electricity between them as much as he did. She just didn’t want any part of it. The question was why? While his temporary stay on the island might account for some of her caution, he sensed her skittishness had a far deeper source.
And the detective in him wanted to solve that mystery.
As did the man.
That was one of the reasons he’d agreed to attend tonight. If Todd hadn’t told him Heather would be at the table, he’d have opted for a good book or a video in the quiet of his cottage. But he hadn’t been able to pass up the opportunity to share his evening with the lovely tearoom owner. Even if she was currently giving him the cold shoulder.
“You should know that one, Heather.”
At Julie’s comment, Heather gave the woman a blank look. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “I missed the question.”
“What’s the official name of the park where the Arch in St. Louis is located?” Kate repeated.
“The Jefferson National Expansion Memorial.”
“Woo-hoo! We are going to win this sucker!” Edith chortled, jotting down the final answer of the night.
“How come Julie said you’d know that?” J.C. directed his question to Heather as the game sheets were collected and the tabulations began.
“I lived there years ago.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I had the impression you were a Nantucket native.”
“I feel like one. My mom and I moved here twenty years ago, when I was fourteen. She’d inherited the house from her aunt.”
“Just the two of you?”
“Yes. She started The Devon Rose, and we ran it together until…until she died of pancreatic cancer two years ago.”
He leaned closer to hear her suddenly subdued voice. Close enough for the faint caress of her breath on his cheek to quicken his pulse. “I’m sorry. I hear that’s a rough way to go.”
She eased back and blinked several times. “It was.”
“What happened to your dad?”
Anger displaced the grief in her eyes, and her tone grew bitter. “I have no idea. He and my mother split right before we moved here. I haven’t talked to him in twenty years.”
J.C. nodded in empathy. He knew all about estrangements—and the emotional toll they could take. “Family rifts are hard.”
Her features grew taut. “He cheated on my mother. And I don’t have any respect for people who break their vows or refuse to honor their commitments.”
J.C.’s gut twisted. He could relate to that, too. “Do you have any other family?”
“A sister in St. Louis, recently separated. And a thirteen-year-old nephew.” She shook her head. “Who’s about to land on my doorstep. Tomorrow.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not looking forward to that?”
Heather glanced toward Edith. J.C. followed suit. The older woman was engaged in an animated conversation with the emcee, who’d strolled over to chat while the scores were tabulated. With the din in the gym, J.C. couldn’t hear one word they were saying. Nor was his landlady paying any attention to her tablemates.
Dropping her voice, Heather kept one eye on the older woman as she responded. “I’m not. He’s been getting into some trouble, and my sister thought a change of scene might help.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“The latest problems are possible underage drinking and vandalism.” Heather tucked her hair behind her ear and shook her head. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with him. My experience with boys that age would fit in this—” she tapped her empty plastic cup against the table in agitation “—with room to spare.”
Not good, J.C. reflected. While he admired Heather for her willingness to help her sister out, she was setting herself up for a rough ride. Thirteen-year-old boys could get into a mess of trouble. He’d witnessed plenty of it on the street—and in his own life, thanks to Nathan.
For a brief instant, he entertained the notion of offering her help if things got dicey. But he didn’t have much experience with kids that age, either. The ten-and eleven-year-old Titan Tigers were young enough to be relatively innocent. And he hadn’t done a very good job with Nathan when his brother had been a rebellious teen.
Besides, he didn’t need the complication. He’d come here to get away from problems. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with a teen delinquent. He had too much on his plate already.
“Okay, listen up, everyone. We have our winners!”
The booming announcement from the emcee saved him from having to respond, and he was grateful for the reprieve as he directed his attention toward the front of the gym.
When the grand prize–winning team was announced, Edith clapped Todd on the back and threw her arms around a blushing Chester. “I told you we’d win!”
A basket filled with prizes was delivered to their table, and while Edith dived in, J.C. grinned at Heather. “It’s refreshing to see such enthusiasm.”
“She does get carried away.” Heather gave the woman a wry look.
“J.C., come over here and take first pick of these prizes,” Edith called over to him. “We wouldn’t have won without you. You answered more than half the questions.”
“That’s okay. You all divide everything up. I was just a last-minute sub.”
“Nonsense. You can’t leave empty-handed. Do you want me to pick something out for you?”
“Sure.”
Pushing aside a box of gourmet chocolate-covered cranberries, Edith pulled out an array of envelopes containing gift cards and riffled through them. Selecting one, she handed it to him. “You’ll enjoy this.”
He took it, noting The Summer House name and a ’Sconset return address.
“That restaurant has the most divine terrace overlooking the ocean—and the food is great,” Edith told him. “Very romantic. And that should more than cover a dinner for two.” She sent a meaningful glance toward the woman on his right.
J.C. caught the dark look Heather shot the older woman as he removed the plastic gift card from the envelope and tucked it in his wallet. No surprise there. Given the clear No Trespas
sing signals Heather had been sending him all night, he would have expected her to resist any matchmaking efforts. But it was nice to know he had an ally in Edith.
“Are you ready to go, Chester?” Heather rose. “I want to get an early start on my baking tomorrow.”
“Sure thing.” He stood, and Edith picked up her purse.
“How did you get here?” Edith asked J.C.
“I walked. It’s a beautiful evening.”
“But the return trip will be a bit of a hike at this hour. Why don’t you ride back with us?”
In his peripheral vision, he saw Heather stiffen—and took that as his cue. “Thanks, Edith. But I could use the exercise after sitting all evening.”
Heather’s relief was almost palpable. She gave him a polite, if reserved, goodbye, all the while keeping her distance, and walked out of the gym without a backward look.
Stymied, J.C. planted his fists on his hips and watched her depart.
“Did she give you the brush-off?” Todd moved beside him and grinned as Julie conversed with Kate and Craig.
“That would be a polite way to put it.”
“Don’t take it personally. She’s like that with all eligible men. I think it goes back to a bad experience she had with some guy she was dating a few years ago. Caught him in a compromising position, as I recall. Julie knows more about that than I do. But trust me, you’re not being singled out for special attention.”
Julie reclaimed Todd, and J.C. walked out with them, breaking off with a wave once they stepped outside.
As he strode down the dark street toward Lighthouse Lane, he thought about Todd’s comment. He supposed her bad dating experience might explain Heather’s skittishness around him.
Yet he sensed there was more to it.
Had any other woman sent such strong back-off signals, J.C. knew he would have lost interest by now. But Heather’s brush-off—and the reasons behind it—intrigued him. He liked a good challenge, had always been fascinated by puzzles. That was one of the reasons he’d been drawn to detective work.
And Miss Jefferson National Expansion Memorial was one big puzzle just waiting to be solved.
