Third Time Lucky: Volume 1 (The Coxwells)

by Deborah Cooke

  “I doubt that! She’s a wicked, wicked person, Philippa, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay miles away from her.”

  “Wicked?” Seemed a bit strong to me.

  My mother heaved a sigh. “I suppose it’s only because you’re such a nice girl that you don’t know this, but Lucia—” she struggled for the words and gave it up with a sigh of frustration. “Well, Lucia takes care of things.”

  “Things?” I sat back, intrigued and mystified.

  “Yes, things! Unwanted things.” My mother waited, but I didn’t get it. “Oh, Philippa. For girls who get into trouble.”

  “She’s an abortionist?”

  “She’s not a doctor. She’s one of those women who know things, who mix potions and make charms.”

  I half laughed. “Are you trying to tell me that Lucia is the witch of Rosemount? That’s an old lame story.”

  “Everyone knows it! Why she and Evelyn had an enormous argument right in front of the town council. Lucia gave Evelyn the evil eye when the council ruled in Evelyn’s favor.” My mother’s voice dropped. “And one of Evelyn’s cats died the very next day.”

  I was skeptical. “Mrs. Donnelly’s cats are ancient.”

  “Not all of them.”

  “It could have been sick.”

  “You’re making excuses, Philippa. The cat was perfectly healthy until the council meeting.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Why are you defending her?”

  I changed the subject, defending that particular breach in the walls. “What was the argument about?”

  “Lucia wanted to make her greenhouse bigger. It would have gone almost to the lot line and been two stories high. It would have blocked Evelyn’s sunlight completely and for what? She probably intended to grow marijuana or something.”

  Years of exposure to my father have ensured that my mother shares not only his abhorrence of marijuana and conviction of its ills. It is the demon weed and root of much evil in the world, according to Judge Coxwell.

  The irony, of course, is that neither of them have a clue what it smells like and once told Zach to quit burning incense in his apartment when he came home from university redolent of weed.

  So, I let that one go.

  “I certainly hope you aren’t involved in that project! Why, the whole town was up in arms about Lucia’s plans, not that she gave a hoot what anyone thought.”

  “I didn’t know anything about it until you told me, Mom.”

  “Really?”

  “Honest and true.”

  Mom barely paused for breath before making a maternal leap straight to Guilt Central. “Well, you should have come to the house, dear, since you were right here in Rosemount. A cancelled appointment would have given you time to stop for breakfast. And, after all, we haven’t seen you in so long...”

  “Well, uh, things are really busy at the office right now.” I waved frantically at Elaine, then mimed a drowning woman. Elaine chuckled but picked up the phone, using our established trick. We had three lines installed, a fact which could be terribly useful in such moments.

  The office phones rang in unison as Elaine’s call was routed to the second line. Elaine put her receiver on the desk, the twinkle in her eye not nearly fair warning.

  “Philippa!” she wailed. “Get the phone, would you? God, there’s no crap wrap left in here and my pantyhose are around my ankles! Philippa!”

  Elaine’s voice undoubtedly carried right down the phone line to Rosemount, just as she had planned for it to do.

  I was dying to laugh. My mother was outraged.

  Of course.

  “Philippa! Is that your partner? My goodness, but I’ll never understand how you managed to link up with such a vulgar woman. She clearly doesn’t come from a good family and you mark my words, Philippa Coxwell, bad breeding will out in the worst possible way...”

  “Mom. I’ve got to get the other line.”

  “First I have to tell you the important part, Philippa, and there’s nothing more important than your family and your future. You tell that to that common piece of baggage in your Ladies’ Room.”

  “Philippa!” Elaine wailed. The phone rang and rang. I had a very bad feeling about what was coming, though I tried to ignore it.

  “Mom, I’ve got to go.”

  My mother continued undeterred. “Philippa, I’ve arranged for Jeffrey McAllister to take you out.”

  “What?” I forgot the ringing phone and sat up straight. “You fixed me up?”

  “Well, I could hardly wait for you to find yourself a date. Honestly, Philippa, a person could come to the conclusion that you had no interest in men at all.”

  Oh, there was a leading opening—I was ready to be gay just to get out of this, but she didn’t give me the chance.

  “Fortunately, I know that that’s not the case. Why, it seems like just yesterday that you were making moon eyes at that Sullivan boy, what was his name? He was trouble, just like all those Sullivans are. I told you but you didn’t listen and wasn’t I proven right when he went to jail? Jail, Philippa!”

  Mom inhaled in horror at the memory of that close brush with infamy and I seized the moment to make a timely diversion.

  “Who is this guy?”

  “Oh!” Mom’s voice warmed. “Jeffrey McAllister is that nice young lawyer who joined the family practice.”

  A lawyer—could things get worse? I had been a fool to imagine that Mom had given up on her subversive matchmaking. She’d invited me to dinner more times than I could count when ‘nice young men’ just happened to be in attendance. When I twigged to that trick, she enlisted dutiful Number One Son James to perpetuate the ruse. I stopped accepting his wife’s dinner invitations too.

  Now, Mom was going for the jugular.

  “A nice, clean-cut young man, a lawyer with a future and charming manners—surely it can’t be too much of a burden for you to meet the man and share a meal together.”

  It occurred to me that a man could be a serial killer and would be an eligible bachelor in my mother’s view if he had one good suit and a conservative haircut.

  “That’s four,” I muttered. “Bad things are supposed to come in threes.” I braced myself for two more bad events.

  “Stop mumbling, Philippa. You know, these young lawyers work so very hard and get lonely in the city. I’m sure he’d just love some feminine companionship. Perhaps you should cook him dinner tonight. Philippa, you might at least come up with a decent casserole. Or get something catered and pretend you made it. Just a little white lie, because after all, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. And he’s such a nice boy, and from a perfectly respectable family...”

  “I don’t need a date, Mother.”

  “Oh, Mother, is it now? Well, the thanks I get for trying to ensure your happiness.”

  “I don’t need a date.”

  Mom’s tone turned arch. “Because you’re seeing someone already? What are you keeping from me, Philippa?”

  “Nothing.” Sullen and sixteen was looking like a good behavior pattern to me right now. The office phone was still ringing and it was ganging up with the champagne residuals to give me a serious headache.

  “You see. You do need a date. Jeffrey will pick you up at noon for lunch.”

  “Mother! I don’t do lunch!”

  “Everyone who matters does lunch, Philippa.”

  “I have a business to run!”

  “Jeffrey’s very punctual, so I suggest you be ready. You never have a second chance to make a first impression, dear.”

  “I’m not going,” I said, but the dial tone wasn’t responsive to my opinion.

  I treated myself to one small obscenity, then tossed the receiver back into the cradle. The office phone rang only a moment longer before Elaine hung it up too.

  “Sorry. I thought I was pretty good for improv.” She leaned one hip against my desk. “Still no match for the wiles of Mom, huh?”

  “I should have known i
t would only be a matter of time.”

  “What?”

  “She’s fixing me up with a lawyer.” I looked my partner in the eye. “He’s the first, but he won’t be the last.”

  “You say his occupation like it’s a disease.”

  “Trust me, it is.”

  “But think of all the lovely money.” Elaine grinned. “You could get a few nice rocks for your collection, if nothing else.”

  Elaine is so open about her mercenary tendencies that it’s impossible to hold them against her. She loves pretty things, pretty expensive things, and makes no bones about it. More than one man has bought her a bauble with a few brilliant carats just to bask in Elaine’s smile.

  Or maybe to enjoy other favors. I don’t ask. There are some things I just don’t need to know.

  The men come, the men go, the gifts pile up. Heartless and gorgeous, Elaine hits men before they even know what’s happening, gets what she wants and leaves them gasping for breath. She does so with such charm that more than a few of them come back for more. It’s not her fault that so many of them hope to change her.

  Because if nothing else, Elaine plays fair—she never pledges love, she never offers more than she’s willing to deliver, and she is brutally honest with her conquests.

  She hadn’t found a man yet who could bear that honesty for long. I was kind of looking forward to witnessing that match.

  If it ever happened.

  “You’ve got me confused with you,” I charged with a smile.

  Elaine shrugged, then rummaged through the drawings on her desk. “Well, you can throw any strays my way, if you like. Lawyers make a decent buck. Have you seen the Villeroy & Boch catalog?”

  “Over there. Hey, how about Bachelor #1?” I felt remarkably generous date-wise under the circumstances. “Noon today. Lawyer. My father’s new junior partner and he does pay well.” I recounted Mom’s list of Jeffrey’s assets, then spread my hands. “He’s all yours.”

  Elaine flicked a glance my way, the quickness of the move not hiding her interest. “Lawyer, hmm? Has this paragon of masculine virtue got a name?”

  “Jeffrey McAllister.”

  Elaine looked up quickly, her skin paling beneath her foundation. The phone rang before I could ask, then there was nothing beyond Mrs. Hathaway’s fears for her prize hellebores over the course of the landscaping project.

  Maybe I was working my way through a second set of three mishaps. The view was definitely looking more familiar—but then, I do well facing adversity, just like I told you before. It’s feeling lucky that throws my game.

  But now I was right back in the trenches. Mrs. H. was officially my numero uno concern, thanks to that lovely new contract, and I was ready to do anything to ensure she was thrilled to her toes with Coxwell & Pope.

  Which was why I was in the Beast within minutes, heading for the Hathaway house to move those hellebores with my bare hands, if need be.

  Time for a little client TLC. I was toying with the idea of not coming back to the office until after lunch, but already knew I wouldn’t do it. There’d be hell to pay if I insulted Father’s new protégé.

  And the truth is that what’s bred in the bone does come out in the flesh. I am my mother’s daughter, for better or for worse, and the older I get, the more I see her patterns of behavior in mine. There’s no getting around it—there are some things I just can’t do. Being rude is one of them. I’m becoming my mother in some ways, a terrifying prospect for me which would delight her.

  Tell her that, and I’ll have to hurt you.

  * * *

  He reached the perimeter of the city, more dusty than he had been since arriving at Timbuktu. But that dust had been red, this was a more pedestrian brown.

  Not that Timbuktu could have in any way been mistaken for the avenue of rampant consumerism that led to Phil’s office.

  Her office was on the outskirts of suburbia, presumably because land was cheaper here. The Coxwell & Pope building was small and stand-alone, a glorified double garage with cheap siding and a fenced yard behind. The front lot was gravel and the windows were coated with the resulting dust. It wasn’t fancy, but he had almost tasted her pride this morning.

  He could relate to that.

  The city was closing fast, though. A few nurseries lingered on either side of the four lane road, their buildings hinting at a recent past when they were still out in the country. More than one had yuppified and gone upscale—Nick guessed the others wouldn’t last, at least not in this location. Looking toward Boston from Phil’s office, burger joints and gas stations jostled for position, the signs of a few big discount stores rising above the rest.

  Soon the fields behind would be filled with tract houses. Nick grimaced, not wanting to imagine the greenery divided into little lots, their driveways choked with minivans. People had to live somewhere, but he was starting to wonder what they’d do when the whole country was paved from sea to shining sea.

  Those donuts had long since exhausted their usefulness, the sun was high and he was ravenous. That’s what he got for eating sugary junk. It was burned through in nothing flat. Maybe he hadn’t missed those donuts as much as he had thought.

  On the upside, his timing was perfect. He’d kidnap Phil for lunch.

  The Beast was gone, though that didn’t necessarily mean that Phil was gone with it. There was also a dinged pick-up truck parked in the lot. It looked to be of the same vintage as the Beast and had once been red. The lettering on the side proved it too belonged to the business.

  The bed was filled with an array of shovels, plus a gizmo with an electrical cable he couldn’t name. Interlock samples were cast on the dusty cab seat and the windows were open. A golden retriever sprawled on the drivers’ seat assessed Nick with wise eyes, its tail thumping as soon as he spoke to it.

  “Big schmoozer, aren’t you?” he teased, scratching the dog’s ears. “You’d unlock the doors and give it all away, if you could, tough guy.” The dog leaned into the scratch with obvious delight, whimpering a little when Nick continued on.

  A sleek small BMW nestled beside the truck, the shiny silver paint incongruous with the truck’s heavy patina of dust. Company calling, he concluded. There was also a turquoise Geo, a efficient vehicle of which he heartily approved.

  The chain link gate to the small yard behind the building gaped open now, no longer padlocked as it had been this morning. He spotted a man in work boots, jeans and a red tank top sorting through the interlock and stones. It was a bit chilly for such summer wear, but the guy had the build for it. His tan gleamed gold and his hair was bleached fair, his physique testament to how many of these rocks he had moved.

  No sign of Phil there.

  A quick survey of the street revealed that the Beast wasn’t making a reappearance. The golden retriever had propped its chin on the rolled down window of the truck, its dark gaze fixed on Nick.

  “Some watchdog,” he told it. “Not so much as a growl.”

  That tail beat against the seat again.

  He rapped once on the office door before striding in. He had only a heartbeat to notice that the office was not only as cheerful, colorful and chaotic as Phil’s kitchen, but that Phil wasn’t there.

  Then he had a definite sense that he had interrupted something.

  After all, the knockout blonde looked ready to murder the guy in the suit who was glaring right back at her. Neither even twitched when Nick entered the office and the air was snapping.

  The blonde was turned out to perfection, all sleek curves, a suit that screamed of New York and jewelry that could blind a man when it caught the sun. The guy looked to be her parallel, his suit impeccably tailored and his shoes polished to a shine. His watch was enormous, an over-engineered piece of machinery that its bearer probably only used to check the time.

  Despite sharing expensive taste, these two clearly weren’t getting along.

  “I was looking for Phil Coxwell,” he said, using his best smile to no discernible effect. �
�But maybe this isn’t a good time.”

  The man spared him a disdainful survey. Nick held his ground and stared back, not needing French cuffs to have any confidence in himself.

  “I would suggest you call later.” The other man’s gaze lingered on Nick’s dusty jeans. He didn’t think this was one of Phil’s brothers, but he could be wrong. “Philippa and I have a lunch appointment, so she will not have time for you before our return.”

  “Maybe we should ask Philippa what she thinks about that.” There was just enough edge in the blonde’s voice to make the other guy look her way, but she smiled so graciously that he couldn’t possibly have responded in kind.

  Nick immediately liked her.

  “Elaine Pope,” she said, her smile warming as she offered her hand. “Philippa and I are partners.”

  “A most unfortunate circumstance for Philippa.” The guy snorted. “No wonder her family wants her to give up this excuse for a business.”

  Right. Phil had hinted that her family weren’t proud of her accomplishments and this one’s choice of words supplied the fact that he was not blood related..

  Was Phil dating this jerk? The thought made his stomach churn with more than hunger.

  Elaine bristled, her eyes snapping fire as she turned. “Really?” she inquired sweetly. “Why would it be sensible to abandon a profitable business? Surely any parent would want their child to succeed?”

  “Surely any parent would want to ensure that their child consorted with the right class of people?”

  “You are such a pig!” Elaine stepped forward as though she might deck him and Nick couldn’t blame her.

  All the same, bloodshed was better avoided. He shot Elaine a warning glance and stepped closer, letting just enough skepticism filter into his tone. “And that would be where you come in, right?”

  The other man’s lips thinned. “I hardly see how my role is of any pertinence to you.”

  “But you have no problem making Phil’s decisions for her without knowing her opinion or what the circumstances of this business are.”

  Elaine eased closer to Nick, their alliance negotiated, signed and set in stone.