Hidden Secrets

by Jannine Gallant

  She wondered where the child’s mother was. Probably inside, trying to figure out where to put the furniture. The girl couldn’t be more than six or seven, all arms and legs in a princess dress of pink tulle that was indeed the same color as the house. Blond hair had been pulled back in a ratty ponytail. Despite the girl’s high-pitched shrieks, which complemented equally shrill canine yapping, Nina smiled.

  The man in the black T-shirt emerged from the front entrance a few moments later—minus the box—and raised his voice to be heard. Thankfully, both the child and the dog piped down. When he reached the street, he fisted his hands on his hips and glanced in Nina’s direction.

  Nina quickly ducked out of sight. Gorgeous was the word that sprang to mind. The short sleeves of his T-shirt clung to well-defined biceps, while brown hair with a hint of a wave topped the most handsome face she’d seen outside a movie theater. Silvery eyes narrowed against the sun above a straight nose and strong chin. The man reminded her of Clint Eastwood back in his spaghetti Western days. All he needed was a battered cowboy hat, a poncho, and a cigar clamped between those white teeth.

  “Wow. Just wow.” She settled more comfortably against the cushions as her new neighbor disappeared into the moving van only to return a few seconds later carrying a white painted headboard in one hand and a box labeled Kitchen in block letters beneath the other arm. If she had to sacrifice the peace and quiet she’d enjoyed since the last tenant—a rock-n-roll wannabe who’d spent most evenings practicing on his drums—moved out, at least the new owner of the dilapidated Victorian was easy on the eyes. Very easy.

  Best of all, she could enjoy his beauty with no internal pressure since he was obviously a family man and unavailable. She clenched her fist around the edge of the windowsill. Over the last six months, she’d honestly tried to put herself out there on the social front, only to wind up disappointed and aching . . . missing Keith. Accepting the fact that she was happier alone was easier on her and any potential suitors who invariably failed to live up to her unrealistic expectations.

  When her cell phone chimed, she pulled it out of the pocket of her jeans, happy to escape her thoughts, and glanced at the display. A smile formed as she answered. “Hey, Leah.”

  “Hey, yourself. What do you have going on today?”

  “I was working before my subject flew away. Why? Aren’t you at school?”

  “Recess. Can’t you hear the kids screaming in the background?”

  “Not over the commotion next door.”

  Nina glanced out the window as a string of oaths blistered her ears through the open window. One of the moving men stood at the end of the ramp next to a carved oak bookcase, rubbing his right shin. Thankfully, the girl and dog had disappeared, presumably ordered inside out of hearing range.

  “What’s going on next door?”

  She returned her attention to the conversation with one of her oldest and dearest friends. “The people who bought the Victorian are moving in this morning. I can barely hear myself think over the ruckus, let alone focus on painting.”

  “Oh, yeah? What are they like?”

  “The man is drool-worthy, probably a little older than us, and his daughter is cute but loud. Their dog is small and yappy. I haven’t seen the wife or girlfriend or whoever yet. She must have gone inside before I set up watch from my bedroom.”

  “You’re spying on them?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t you?”

  “I’d probably walk across the street and introduce myself. Did that thought ever occur to you? Maybe welcome them to the neighborhood.”

  “The guy’s too busy flexing his muscles.” Nina gave the hottie an appreciative stare as he hauled a rolled-up rug slung over one shoulder into the house. “Literally, since he’s busy unpacking a moving van. I’m sure his partner is equally occupied. There’ll be plenty of time to meet them later.”

  “I suppose so, but not this afternoon. The bridesmaid dresses finally arrived. Can you meet me and Paige at All Dressed Up for a fitting? Three o’clock sharp.”

  “Says the woman who’s chronically late. Of course I can.” She leaned an elbow on the windowsill. “I can’t believe you and Ryan are getting married next month. The time has flown by since he proposed last fall.”

  “I know, right? I can’t wait to say I do. Oh, crap, the bell is ringing. I need to herd the little monsters back into the classroom. See you this afternoon, Nina.”

  The phone went dead before she could respond. Sticking it back in her pocket, Nina glanced down as the movers finally maneuvered the bookcase inside. Spying was getting a little old. Maybe the mother robin had returned to her nest, and she could get back to work on the painting Miss Lola had commissioned. Sliding off the window seat, she headed downstairs but stopped when she reached the deck door.

  The munchkin hadn’t gone inside after all. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back in front of the easel while her furry companion sniffed the base of the tree before squatting to pee. Sliding open the screen, Nina stepped out onto the deck.

  The child turned to regard her. “How come you didn’t finish the picture? The bird’s feathers look funny.”

  “Because the robin flew away when your moving truck drove up.” Nina crossed the yard to the young girl’s side. “Does your mom know you’re over here?”

  Her uninvited guest rocked back and forth on pink tennis shoes. “Daddy says my mommy watches me all the time. She always knows where I am.”

  While Nina struggled to imagine any mother turning a child who couldn’t be much more than six loose in an unfamiliar neighborhood, she didn’t argue. “I’m Nina. What’s your name?”

  “Keely. It means beautiful. My daddy says I was a very pretty baby, but a mean boy in my kindergarten class told me I look like a giraffe because I have long legs.”

  “Calling people names is definitely not nice, but giraffes are graceful and majestic.”

  “Majestic. I like that word.” She gave a little hop and a skip. “Where did Coco go?”

  “Your dog?” When Keely nodded, Nina turned her to face an upended rump as the dog sniffed a clump of ferns, tail wagging. “There she is. She’s very pretty, just like you.”

  The girl smiled. “Coco’s a paplon. I love how the fur hangs off her ears. It’s soft.”

  “You mean a papillon?”

  “That’s what I said, a paplon. Come on, Coco. Let’s go.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Keely. Tell your parents I’ll stop by to introduce myself sometime soon.”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it, and ran off without another word to disappear around the side of the house. After giving the ferns a final sniff, the dog followed.

  When a chorus of cheeping erupted above her, Nina glanced up and smiled. The mother robin had returned, and the babies in the nest were making it clear they were on the verge of starvation. She settled at her easel and resumed work. Not that painting birds was her true passion, but sometimes artistic zeal took a back seat to paying the bills. Miss Lola was a steady customer and bird enthusiast with deep pockets, and Nina had learned the hard way you did what was necessary to survive.

  Two hours later, she put the finishing touches on the painting. Shading the orange of the mother robin’s breast and adding a protective gleam to her eye. Instilling a sense of urgency in the gaping mouths and stretched, scrawny necks of the hatchlings. Curling the edges of the thin bark peeling away from the madrone tree. Satisfied with the results, she cleaned her brushes, put away her paints, and then rose from her stool.

  As she headed straight to the kitchen, her stomach rumbled. Probably because she’d had nothing but a yogurt for breakfast, and it was well past noon. After making herself a turkey sandwich on wheat, she peeked out the kitchen window. Silence reigned next door. Apparently the movers were on a lunch break since the truck was still parked in the street, blocking her view. No matter. She could squeeze her Mini Cooper around it. Maybe she’d drive down to the beach for a run before she met her friend
s for the dress fitting.

  Biting into her sandwich, Nina climbed the stairs two at a time to her room, where she tossed her paint-stained shirt and jeans into the hamper before sorting through her dresser drawer for a pair of shorts and a tank top. She finished eating while tying on her running shoes, then paused downstairs at the kitchen sink to chug a glass of water.

  Heading outside, she stopped at the end of her driveway and surveyed the limited stretch of pavement between her front lawn and the van through narrowed eyes. The Mini Cooper was small, but not that tiny. Backing out would seriously endanger either the car’s shiny red paint or her grass. She rounded the end of the truck at a fast clip and smacked straight into a hard, T-shirt-clad chest. Her nose mashed against the pulse beating at the man’s throat, and when she drew in a breath, a woodsy scent teased her nostrils. Strong arms closed around her as they both wobbled and swayed before her new neighbor steadied her and took a step back.

  “Sorry about that.” He assessed her from the top of her head to her running shoes, and a hint of appreciation entered those silvery eyes. “You make quite an impact.”

  “I guess I should look where I’m going.” Her slightly breathless tone annoyed her no end. Getting flustered over a married man, no matter how hot he might be, was pointless. “I’m Nina Hutton.” She extended her hand. “Welcome to our little corner of the neighborhood.”

  A warm palm gripped hers. “Nice to meet you. I’m Teague O’Dell.” When he released her hand, he waved toward the thick woods surrounding them. “I love the seclusion here. It’s the reason I bought this place. A far cry from the Southern California suburbs.”

  “You moved to Oregon from Los Angeles?”

  “We lived in Encino, which is in the L.A. area. After . . . well, I wanted a complete change, small town instead of urban sprawl.”

  “Siren Cove certainly offers that.”

  “This house needs a lot of work, but I don’t mind.” He regarded her steadily. “I just want a safe place where I don’t have to worry about my daughter if she wants to play in the yard.”

  “You found it.” She gave him a quick smile, wondering if he was always so serious. “Uh, I’d love to meet the rest of your family, but I was on my way out for a run on the beach. Do you think someone could move the truck?”

  “Of course. Sorry, I didn’t realize we were blocking your driveway. I’ll go get the keys, and hopefully we’ll have the van unloaded and out of here in another hour or so.”

  “No worries. Nice to meet you, Teague, and good luck with the unpacking. I don’t envy you that task.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be hip-deep in boxes for weeks.”

  He hurried away, presumably to retrieve the keys, and Nina climbed into her car to wait. A minute later, the truck engine fired up with a roar, followed by a shout from Teague. Her gaze was glued to the rearview mirror as he raised the metal ramp, biceps bulging beneath the weight, to slide it into the truck before the driver pulled forward out of her way.

  After backing to the end of the driveway, she returned her new neighbor’s wave, then accelerated down the street. “Oh, my. Mr. Hottie O’Dell is eye candy with a capital C.” She couldn’t help wondering what Keely’s mother looked like. Probably Malibu Barbie.

  Turning at the corner, she pressed harder on the accelerator to send her little car flying down the coast road south of town. One thing was certain, she needed to stop salivating over attached men, no matter how hot. Since pulling off a relationship seemed beyond her capabilities, for now, she’d simply run off her frustrations.

  Nina parked in the half-full lot above the beach and followed the winding trail down to the water’s edge, then ran facing into the wind. Her shoes pounded the sand in a steady rhythm as the salt spray off the waves dampened her arms and legs. Out near the breakwater, the three monolithic rocks that gave Siren Cove its name stood sentinel over the town. Her breathing came in harsh pants as she passed a handful of young women watching toddlers build castles with buckets and shovels. She recognized a couple of the mothers and nodded in greeting but wasn’t tempted to join them.

  If Keith hadn’t died, maybe I’d be part of that group. Or not.

  She shook off the painful thought and ran faster past a woman bundled in a jacket bent over a tide pool to poke something with the tip of a stick while a blond girl sat alone on a nearby rock. Farther up the beach, a couple strolled hand in hand, their laughter drifting on the breeze. Sweat dripped down Nina’s face and neck to pool between her breasts. Slowing to a stop, she braced her hands on her knees and forced air into her labored lungs.

  What an idiot she was, letting her emotions get out of control and running like a woman possessed. Now she’d have to go home to shower before she could try on her dress for the wedding. Which meant she’d better head straight back to her car. Turning down the beach, she jogged to cool off and smiled at a fellow runner in a bright pink T-shirt going in the opposite direction. The young girl had left her rock to stand ankle-deep in water while the tide surged away from her bare feet. Up ahead, the group of preschoolers had abandoned their castles to chase seagulls, screaming like banshees as the birds flew away with equally harsh cries.

  When a scrap of paper blew across her path, Nina bent to grab the piece of litter and thrust it into the pocket of her shorts, then picked up her pace again. The cool breeze off the ocean dried her sweat and soothed her soul. By the time she reached the trail up to the parking lot, she’d gotten over her attack of self-pity.

  Until the next time.

  * * *

  Where had she put the lottery ticket? She turned the pockets of her jacket inside out but found only a few coins and a small clamshell, then searched through the open bag on the bench by the kitchen door. Bits of sand stuck to her fingertips as she pulled out the miscellaneous assortment that had accumulated since she’d last cleaned out her tote bag. Relief filled her when her fingers closed around a piece of paper, but it wasn’t the magic ticket, only an old grocery receipt she wadded and chucked in the trash.

  The lottery ticket must have blown away while she was on the beach, but she didn’t have time to spare looking for it right now. Not if she didn’t want to be late.

  What were the chances her numbers would be the winning ones, anyway? She’d played those same numbers for years to no avail, but this time she’d felt lucky. Her lips tightened. Obviously not. The underlying feeling of nervous anticipation keeping her on edge must be due to summer drawing near. Memories of that humid day had become more insistent and dominated her dreams. She glanced toward the small head bent over the picture books open on the table.

  The day of reckoning was almost here.