Sophie stood at the kitchen island as she cracked eggs into a large ceramic bowl. Kim searched through the refrigerator, hunting for ingredients to add to the frittata. She’d already set a block of cheese on the counter and was rummaging through the vegetable bin.
“So they have you working?” Adam said to Sophie as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
“She’s going to show us how to make a frittata,” Kim explained.
“Is that like an omelet?” Adam asked.
“Better. You’ve never had one?” Sophie asked incredulously.
“Nope,” Adam said as he watched Sophie whip the eggs with a whisk.
“What kind of restaurateur are you? Never had a frittata!” Sophie teased.
“We do lunches and dinner. And I never claimed to be a chef.”
“Well, don’t feel too bad; Nick and Kim have never had one, either.”
“Oh, I don’t.” Adam flashed a smile.
“We’ve been meaning to try out a recipe,” Nick explained. “It would be a good dish to serve our guests, but we haven’t gotten around to experimenting.”
“Problem with omelets,” Sophie explained, “they can be a pain for a group of people—preparing them one at a time. With this recipe, I can easily serve six people at once. While some compare it to an omelet, they remind me more of a quiche, yet without the crust, which of course makes it healthier.”
“In spite of the real men don’t eat quiche stigma, I like it. Of course, I like pie, so it might be the crust.” Adam watched Sophie grate the cheese and dice vegetables. Nick was buttering toast, and Kim now sat at the breakfast bar watching.
“Well, sorry, like I said, no crust with this. But I think you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will,” Adam murmured.
From the breakfast bar, Kim watched Adam watching Sophie. Smiling to herself, she thought they made a cute couple. She’d never seen Adam look at a girl like he did Sophie. At one time, she would have given anything to have Adam Keller look at her that way. Even when they were going together and she was carrying his baby, he had never looked at her with such an intent expression.
Kim remembered the first time she’d met Angela. It was at the police station when she’d gone to talk to the police chief about her mother’s murder. It had been years since she’d seen Adam and his family. But he was there with his then fiancée. When remembering that time, Kim could not recall Adam ever looking at Angela the way he now looked at Sophie. Of course, it had been at the end of their relationship, so perhaps he’d already lost interest. It was possible he had once looked at Angela through the same eyes he was now seeing Sophie.
Kim took a sip of her coffee and quietly listened as Adam, Sophie, and Nick chatted away, discussing food, restaurants, and the hospitality industry in general. She had not really considered it before, but Adam and Nick were both in the hospitality business.
Seeing breakfast was about ready to be served, Kim got up from the breakfast bar and began setting the table.
“This is delicious,” Kim said after taking her first bite of Sophie’s frittata. “I think we should make all our guests cook breakfast.” She sat at the dining room table with Nick, Adam, Franklin, and Sophie.
“I doubt they could cook as well as Sophie,” Nick said between bites.
“Are you thinking of opening your own restaurant?” Adam asked.
“Why do you ask that?” Sophie took a sip of orange juice.
“You mentioned you weren’t interested in working in an Italian restaurant, and after tasting this, I wondered if you wanted to open a breakfast restaurant.”
“No, I don’t think a breakfast restaurant is in my future. Too much of a short order cook thing. I love to experiment in the kitchen, create healthier versions of traditional favorites. I have a few I wanted to try out in my Dad’s restaurant, but he’s just too old school. And I suppose he’s right. His restaurant does a good business, and it would be foolish to tamper with the menu.”
“If you don’t work in your family’s restaurant, do you think you’ll still stay in Portland?” Kim asked.
“I love Portland in the summer, but I wouldn’t mind less rain.”
“We have great weather in Coulson,” Kim said. “I lived in the Phoenix area for a while, and the weather was similar there, but we don’t get as hot. Plus, Coulson doesn’t have those annoying haboobs.”
“Haboob?” Sophie asked.
“It’s a severe dust storm,” Franklin explained, then added, “This really is delicious, Sophie.”
“Thank you.” Sophie smiled across the table at the older man.
“You could always stay in Coulson,” Adam suggested.
“You wouldn’t mind if I opened a restaurant in competition with yours?” Sophie asked with a grin.
“Hmmm, let me think about that.” Adam chuckled.
“Kim, I understand your family founded Coulson. I read a little bit about it online.”
“Yes. My great-grandfather, Randall Coulson, founded the town.”
“On one website they compared it to Lake Havasu City, Arizona.”
“I’ve heard that comparison, too. Both are planned communities, each started by a wealthy industrialist. Like Havasu, we attract both tourists and snowbirds. Of course, we don’t have the London Bridge, and Coulson is a couple years older than Lake Havasu City.”
“Not to mention, McCulloch didn’t name his town after himself,” Nick noted.
“True. I’m afraid my great-grandfather might have been a bit more egotistical than McCulloch. From what Uncle Garret tells me, naming the town after his family was very important to the man. He wanted to make sure his name didn’t die.”
“Too bad he didn’t get any great-grandsons.” Nick chuckled.
“What do you mean?” Sophie asked.
“Well, my great-grandfather had only one son, my grandfather Harrison. My grandparents had three sons. Each of those sons had just one child—all daughters. There are no male Coulsons to carry on the family name. So, I suppose it’s a good thing he named the town after the family.”
“If you think about it, that entire carry on the family name thing is really quite sexist. It’s all about the sons,” Sophie said.
“Well, we are very important,” Adam teased.
“Tell me, Adam, when you get married and start a family someday, if you could only have one child, would you prefer a son to carry on your name?” Sophie asked.
“Did your dad want a son?” Adam countered.
“I asked my question first,” Sophie said with a shrug.
“I’m not sure about having a daughter,” Adam began.
“Why do you say that?” Sophie frowned. Kim stopped eating and glanced up at Adam.
“That’s easy. I see how Garret is with Sarah.”
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Did he want a boy?”
“I don’t think he thought about it one way or another.” Adam laughed. “He was just shocked he was going to be a father. And when she arrived, well, she wrapped him so tightly around her little finger. I see how he worries about her. I don’t know if a father worries about a son in the same way.”
“They do,” Franklin spoke up.
“Well, I don’t care what we have. I just want a healthy baby,” Nick announced. Everyone stopped eating and stared at Kim.
“No.” Kim laughed. “I’m not pregnant. I believe Nick was talking about when we start a family.”
Chapter 16
Angela was a little surprised Adam hadn’t changed the locks. Of course, he probably didn’t know she had once borrowed his extra set of keys and had her own house key made. The fact he had never given her a key had always been a sore spot.
She’d walked to Adam’s house from her father’s. From what she’d learned after Sam Peterson’s interview, Adam was staying the weekend at Clement Falls, so she knew he wouldn’t be home. That bit of information came as no surprise to her, considering she’d followed hi
m up to Clement Falls after watching him put his suitcase in his car.
What did surprise her was the fact he drove directly to the Myer’s boarding house. According to her father, Kim had married Nick Myers over Christmas, and from all accounts, whatever had transpired between Kim and Adam after Carol Myer’s murder had been a brief affair, and shortly after Angela was arrested, Nick and Kim became an item.
Angela had spent many a night in that horrid place, cursing herself for succumbing to jealousy. She knew men were weak. It really wasn’t Adam’s fault that he had taken what Kim offered. The girl had been a slut back in high school, and she hadn’t changed. Had Angela just been patient, allowed Adam to get over his momentary infatuation with the tramp, none of this would have happened.
Framing Adam for the murder got Emily Mitchell involved. Angela couldn’t let Emily hurt her father, so she’d had no other choice but to run her down in that parking lot. It really was not her fault. Of course, she wasn’t stupid. Accepting responsibility for the murder and demonstrating regret was her ticket home.
Had she held her temper, Angela imagined she would probably be married to Adam now, and she would be living in his house—the one she was breaking into. She wasn’t sure if she was still in love with Adam. In truth, love had little to do with her plans. In an ideal situation, Adam would have been Garret’s real son instead of stepson. Marrying Adam was the only way she could become part of the influential Coulson family.
The fact Kim Myers turned out to be a Coulson was a source of irritation for Angela. Her only consolation—Kim was a bastard. She hadn’t even been able to take the Coulson name. At least, Angela assumed that was the reason Kim Myers had never become Kim Coulson.
Angela didn’t know who Adam’s new girl was. According to her father, Adam had remained single since Angela’s incarceration. She had always imagined it was because he still harbored feelings for her.
Her mission today was to have a look around Adam’s house and see if there was anything she could find out about this new girl. Was there an extra toothbrush in Adam’s bathroom, perhaps a change of clothes? She wondered if he still used the same password on his laptop. If so, she could poke around in there and see what was new in Adam’s life.
Myrtle Scarlett was carrying her last sack of groceries in from her car when she glanced over at Adam Keller’s house. She had moved into the neighborhood some twenty years earlier. That was when Ryan Keller had still been alive, and the house had been occupied by Alexandra, Ryan, and a teenage Adam.
It was Adam’s house now, and as neighbors went, Myrtle considered him ideal. He never threw wild parties and spent much of his time at work. But when he was home, he went out of his way to check on Myrtle, who was now in her eighties and living alone in the home she once shared with the late Mr. Scarlett.
Myrtle paused at her back door while looking over at Adam’s house. Squinting her eyes, she tried to figure out if Adam’s door was ajar. If Adam weren’t careful about shutting his side door, it wouldn’t lock properly and would sometimes pop open. She’d secured the door in the past, and whenever she told Adam about it, he said he would get it fixed, yet he never seemed to get around to it.
Fairly certain it was open, Myrtle hastily entered the side door leading to her kitchen and placed the sack on the counter with the rest of her groceries. She then went back outside and headed toward the Keller house.
When she reached Adam’s side door, she saw that it was indeed ajar. Adam never worked on Sundays, but she didn’t notice his car in the driveway. He rarely parked in his garage. Myrtle wasn’t concerned about burglars; this was a safe neighborhood, and she had dealt with this door problem before.
What she was concerned about was the Rogers’ cat, Pickles. The Rogers lived across the street, and they let Pickles run the neighborhood. Pickles had the horrid habit of spraying, and she didn’t think Adam would appreciate it if the little monster had snuck into his house. Fortunately for her, Pickles was rather fond of the treats she sometimes offered him, and she knew if he had snuck inside Adam’s house, he would come running to her after several chants of, “Here kitty, kitty!”
Myrtle pushed open the side door leading to Adam’s kitchen and was about to call out here kitty kitty, when she came face to face with a tall brunette who was just closing the refrigerator door.
“Who are you?” Myrtle blurted out, again squinting her eyes to get a better look.
The younger woman glared at Myrtle, her piercing blue eyes narrowing.
“Angela, Angela Carter? Is that you?” the elderly woman demanded.
Angela’s expression softened.
“Why, Mrs. Scarlett, it’s been a long time. You look well,” Angela said sweetly.
“Angela, I thought… I thought… what are you doing back in Coulson?”
“I’ve been released. Isn’t that wonderful?” Angela said cheerfully.
“Umm… yes… I suppose. Where is Adam? Does Adam know you’re here?”
“Of course he does.” Angela laughed. “You don’t think I broke in, do you?”
A concerned frown crossed Myrtle’s face. She didn’t answer.
“Oh, Adam is in his bedroom. Would you like me to go get him for you?” Angela offered.
“I didn’t see his car in the driveway.”
“No, he parked in the garage.”
“He never parks in the garage,” Myrtle insisted.
“I imagine he didn’t want the neighbors to know he was home so he and I would have a chance to talk. You know, a little private conversation. It’s been so long.”
“I thought you two broke up.”
“We’re still friends. I just stopped by to pick up a few things I left here. Adam is getting them for me.”
“Well, the door was open; that’s why I came over. He really needs to fix it.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Scarlett. That is very thoughtful of you. I’ll be sure to tell Adam.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll tell Adam myself when I see him. I want to talk to him about the door. He needs to get it fixed. It keeps popping open. But I don’t want to bother him right now, I imagine you and he have a lot to talk about, and I have to go put my groceries away.”
“Thank you for being such a good neighbor, Mrs. Scarlett.”
“Well, nice to see you again, Angela. Glad you’re out of that horrible place.”
Myrtle carefully closed the door behind her, making sure it shut all the way, before going back to her own house.
She wondered if Adam and Angela were getting back together. Since their break up, she’d never seen any other young women visit him at home. Just last month, she’d come out and asked him if there was a young lady in his life, and he had told her he hadn’t found anyone else. She naturally took that to mean he was still pining for his ex-fiancée.
She never believed that Angela had intentionally run down that real estate agent. After all, just last month Myrtle had accidently backed over a motor scooter. Had the driver still been on the scooter, she might have been accused of such a crime.
Back at her house, Myrtle immediately began unloading her groceries, stacking the items intended for the refrigerator in a neat row on the counter. The sound of her back door opening and closing startled her, and she turned around and found herself face to face with Angela Carter, who had just entered her kitchen.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Angela said, moving into the kitchen. “I knocked.”
“I didn’t hear a knock.”
“Adam asked me to come over to tell you something. He was going to do it himself, but he just got a phone call, so he asked if I’d run over here.”
“What is it?”
“He wanted to make sure you got that big package in the house okay.”
“What big package?”
“The one sitting at the front door. He noticed it when he drove up, right before you came home.”
“I didn’t see a package. And it’s Sunday. They don’t deliver packages on Sunday.”
“I have no idea. I didn’t see it. Ask Adam. He just wanted me to come over and tell you, and if you hadn’t brought it in yet, he wanted me to help you with it.”
“Adam has always been a considerate young man,” Myrtle said with a smile.
“Yes, he is. He’s always been especially fond of you.”
Myrtle beamed.
“Well, I suppose I should go see what it is. Maybe my daughter dropped something off!”
“I’ll go with you and help you bring it in.”
Myrtle and Angela walked from the kitchen through the dining room, heading toward the front entry. But the moment they reached the foot of the staircase, leading to the second floor, Angela grabbed the frail elderly woman around the waist and began dragging her up the staircase.
“What are you doing?” Myrtle shouted, struggling to remove herself from Angela’s steely grip.
“Just taking you upstairs, dear,” Angela said with a calm voice, dragging the woman up the carpeted steps.
“Let me go!”
“Just relax, Mrs. Scarlett. You really are wasting your energy. You’re such a tiny thing.”
Myrtle squirmed frantically, yet her efforts didn’t seem to faze Angela, who was nearing the landing on the second floor, still holding onto her.
“Let me go!”
“Okay, if that’s how you want it,” Angela said with a laugh when she reached the top of the staircase. Releasing her hold, she abruptly gave the elderly woman a shove, sending Myrtle tumbling down the staircase—head over feet, like a helpless ragdoll—until the elderly woman landed soundly on the hardwood floor, her neck broken while vacant eyes looked up toward the ceiling.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Scarlett,” Angela said while catching her breath. “But there is no way I’m going back to prison because some meddlesome old woman couldn’t mind her own business.”
Dragging Myrtle up the staircase had not been as easy as she originally imagined. After catching her breath Angela adjusted her own clothing and noticed one of her sleeves had torn in the struggle.
“Damn, you bitch. You ripped my blouse! And I just got this!” For a brief moment, Angela was tempted to kick the corpse in retaliation for the torn garment, yet stopped herself, not wanting to leave any unwanted evidence behind.
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