by Stewart, Anna J. ; Sasson, Sophia; Carpenter, Beth; Jensen, Muriel
“Your hovering isn’t going to make me feel any better, young man,” Mrs. Hastings said in a stronger tone. “You go fix my locks like you said you would.”
“Ma’am.” Fletch nodded but stepped back to look at Paige, who added her own gesture of encouragement as the concern melted from his gaze.
“I’ll call if we need you.” Paige pulled Mrs. Hastings’s free hand toward her and dropped today’s pills into her wrinkled palm. “Take them, please.”
“Don’t need a babysitter.”
“Apparently you do,” Paige said with a forced lightness of tone. Dealing with elderly patients took care and patience. Fighting them did no good and often created more problems than solutions. “I think you did this just to get me back here more frequently.”
Mrs. Hastings smirked, opened her now-clear eyes. “You have enough on your plate without worrying about an old woman.”
“I’m not worrying about an old woman—I’m worrying about my friend. Besides, Charlie would never forgive me if something happened to you. She loves coming here. Now take them, please.” She watched, satisfied when Mrs. Hastings followed instructions. “I’m going to go into the kitchen to finish fixing our tea. And if you’re feeling better in a few minutes, I’ll bring you one of the blueberry scones Charlie helped me bake yesterday.”
“Would be nice to see your Charlie again. You’re a good girl, Paige.” Mrs. Hastings caught hold of her hand as Paige got up. “I’m sorry to be such a bother.”
“You’re nothing of the sort. Now, you just rest and I’ll be back in a bit.” Paige returned to the kitchen and turned the kettle back on, sparing a glance over her shoulder to Fletch as he replaced the dead bolt on the back door. “It’s a good thing you were here.”
“Looks like.” Fletch shook his head. “Reminds me of my grandfather. They can seem so…”
“Fragile.” Paige nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“You were very good with her.”
“I’ve had some experience with patie—um, situations like hers.” Paige bit the inside of her cheek and reminded herself to choose her words more carefully. “An elderly neighbor, where we lived before, had similar issues. Charlie and I used to check on her.” Had it really been over a year since she’d seen or spoken to Mrs. Brennan? Paige could only hope one of her grandchildren had stepped up to oversee her care.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you talk about your past.” Fletch angled his screwdriver differently to pop the old lock off. “So much for my theory you and Charlie sprung out of someone’s flower bed.”
“I’m not one to dwell on what happened before.” Paige’s heart jumped in her chest. She spent most of her down hours doing just that. Could she be around the man for more than five minutes without lying? “How are you doing, Mrs. Hastings?” she called over her shoulder.
“I’m not feeling fragile, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”
Paige chuckled. Yeah, Mrs. Hastings wouldn’t be needing a ride to the hospital today.
“Fletch, I expect you to stay for tea once you’re done with those locks,” Mrs. Hastings called.
Fletch’s cheeks went red. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this side of you before.” Nor had Paige ever seen him look so uncomfortable or out of his element. She found it more charming than she expected.
“Once my high school principal, always my high school principal.” He bent down to retrieve the new lock and screw it into place. “I swear, I step foot inside this house and I’m a teenager again.”
Paige poured the hot water into the teapot to warm it before brewing—a lesson she’d received on her first visit a few months before. “It’s a nice problem to have.” She rose up on her toes to look out into the overgrown yard and spotted a collection of tools resting against the side of the house she didn’t remember seeing before. “Mrs. Hastings, have you been doing yard work?”
“Isn’t going to get done on its own. Stop snooping on me.”
Fletch leaned out the back door for a quick look, then shook his head.
“I hate weeds!” Mrs. Hastings announced.
“Right. Weed hater. Adding that to the list.” Paige pulled out her phone and tapped open her calendar, looking through for a spare few hours. “I get off from the diner early on Thursday, Mrs. Hastings. I can bring you an early dinner if you’d like.” And while she was there she could tackle some of that yard work.
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Mrs. Hastings repeated after a long hesitation.
“If it were a bother, I wouldn’t offer.” Paige added it to her schedule, avoiding Fletch’s curious look.
“I do like Ursula’s club sandwich,” came Mrs. Hastings’s reply.
“Who doesn’t?” Fletch said as he closed up, tested and locked the back door. “One down, two to go. Hold that tea for me, will you? I’ll just do the shed and then the front door.”
“Sure, yeah, okay.” Paige watched him trudge through the overgrown grass and weeds on his way to the rusted-out storage shed in the backyard as she pulled out a third dainty flower-painted teacup and arranged it on the tray beside the other two. “Deputy Fletcher does tea. Who knew?”
* * *
“I APPRECIATE YOU not bringing up Jasper or the break-ins while we were in there,” Fletch said a little over an hour later as he and Paige walked down Mrs. Hastings’s front steps. “She’s already worked up enough reading about them in the paper.”
“A lot of people are.” Paige retrieved her bike and walked beside him. “I hear plenty of them talking about it at the diner. I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about Jasper.”
“Contrary to what you might think, and the fact we did find evidence of his presence at one of the houses, I haven’t declared him guilty, Paige. But I would like to find him and talk to him.” Fletcher glanced at her. “Don’t suppose you have any idea where he might be.”
“No.” She visibly swallowed and flinched. “Why would I know?”
Why would she, indeed? But it was clear she was hiding something. “I’m going to take another walk through the houses, check over the notes again. See if there might be something else we missed the first time.”
“Well, that’s something, I suppose. You made Mrs. Hastings happy, staying for tea.”
“I try to make everyone happy.” Fletch hid his disappointment at not being given more credit for taking her suggestion and looking for answers beyond Jasper. “You really were good with her. Put her at ease, got her numbers stable.” With her blood sugar level, they’d gotten their charge settled in her room, an afternoon talk show on the TV, her latest crocheting project across her lap and a fresh-brewed pot of tea on the table beside her. “Am I wrong in thinking there’s more to your story than an old neighbor with similar issues?”
“If I tell you will you let me help you with Jasper?”
He chuckled. “No.”
Paige glared at him, and when he glanced down, he saw her knuckles whiten around the handles of her bike. “Huh. Well, you’re honest at least.” She swung a leg over the bar, but Fletch darted out in front, grabbed hold of the bike and kept her in place. She arched a challenging brow at him. “Mind telling me what all this new determination about the case is about? Why can’t it wait until Luke gets back?”
“Because it can’t.” Fletch clenched his jaw. He should just tell her the truth, that he needed to get his case closed if Luke was going to keep his job, but that would just open up a whole other avenue of questions…and probably send Paige down the warpath to City Hall.
Not even Mayor Gil Hamilton deserved to be on Paige Cooper’s hit list.
“How about you tell me how you first started having tea with Mrs. Hastings?” If he couldn’t get her to open up the direct way, he was happy to take the long way around.
<
br /> Paige planted her backside on the seat, her feet on the ground, and looked at him. Before she turned to gaze at the house across from Mrs. Hastings. “She caught me daydreaming in the yard over there.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you left much time for daydreaming. What do you dream about, exactly?”
“A lot of things. But mainly this house.” Paige climbed off and tugged the bike from his grasp. She walked over to the sidewalk where a faded For Sale sign peeked out of a substantial growth of wildflowers blanketing the front yard of the bright yellow Tudor-style cottage. A weathered white trellis stretched up one side of the exterior and cascaded over with explosive red geranium blooms determined to see the end of summer in full glory.
“The day Charlie and I arrived, we took a walk up this way,” Paige told him. “We were staying at the Chrysalis Motel at the time.”
“I remember.” Not the nicest motel in the area; but not the worst. “You made quite the impression helping Holly the way you did in the diner.” There wasn’t a lot Fletch didn’t know about Paige’s time in town since she and Charlie had arrived. But before? That was another story.
“Charlie fell in love with this house from the get-go.” Paige tucked an imaginary loose strand of hair behind her ear and glanced up then down the street accented by an occasional parked car. “Once Holly hired me I started coming here on my lunch break. I’d just sit in the yard and listen to the silence.”
“And the occasional seagull.” Fletch glanced up as a pair of the feathered creatures squawked and circled overhead.
Paige smiled and followed his gaze. “I love that sound. Everything’s so peaceful here. Like a sanctuary.”
It wasn’t often Fletch saw Paige in calm mode. She was always buzzing around town, doing something somewhere, never stopping long enough to take a substantial breath. But here? In front of this particular house she seemed to relax. And breathe. “So Butterfly Cottage caught your attention, did it?”
“Hmm.” She pushed through the wooden gate and stood among the flora and fauna, looking as at home as a fairy in her garden. “That’s what Mrs. Hastings called it, as well. I take it the name comes from the window over the front door?”
“It does indeed.” Fletch had always loved the stained glass depicting a pair of brilliant monarch butterflies settling onto their eucalyptus branch. Almost as much as he liked the hand-carved door beneath it. His cell phone vibrated on his hip. He reached down, checked the message. Great. Another reported break-in. This time Everett White had called in to say his toolshed had been the target. Fletch mentally readjusted the next few hours of his day. “It’s one of my favorite houses, too, actually,” he admitted. “Is that what brings you back here? The window?”
“No. The For Sale sign.” The second she said it he heard the regret, saw the way she bit her lip and looked away from him, closing her eyes against the sun. “I just like to know it’s still available.”
So much for him thinking Butterfly Harbor was a pit stop for her and Charlie. “You thinking of buying?”
“No.” Her admission had the hope inflating inside him bursting like a bubble. “That would mean staying here permanently, and I’m not sure that’s in the cards for us.”
Paige confirming his suspicion only increased his disappointment. “But if you were to stay, this is the one you’d want.”
“Yes.” That she said it with a frown made him wonder if she’d thought about staying more than she was letting on.
“Because Charlie loves it?”
Ah, the frown vanished, replaced with that familiar heart-clenching smile of hers. “Because Charlie loves it. Speaking of Charlie, she said Luke gave her permission to walk Cash. I hope that’s okay with you. I don’t want her getting in the way of your…investigation.”
“Charlie is welcome at the station anytime,” Fletch told her. “If her mom doesn’t mind.”
“Even if I did I couldn’t stop her. She’s very fond of you, Deputy.” And didn’t Paige look positively thrilled at that idea.
“Fletch. And I’m pretty fond of her, too.”
“We aren’t staying,” Paige said, and he could tell by her expression she hadn’t meant to. “There will come a time we have to move on. So, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let her get too attached to…Cash.”
Fletcher didn’t miss a beat. “Consider… Cash…forewarned. Unless he can convince you otherwise. If it helps, I don’t think you have a lot to worry about with this place being sold. The original owner’s family has a say over who buys it. They want the right tenant, someone who will appreciate it as is. They won’t sell it to just anyone.”
“Why would anyone want to change it?” The wonder in her voice brought another smile to his face. “She’s perfect.”
“Yes, she is.” But Fletch wasn’t looking at the house. He was looking at her.
And closely enough to see the rise of pink in her cheeks before she locked down her face in that detached expression of hers that seemed specifically reserved for him. She returned to her bike, climbed on and looked at him over her shoulder. “I’m on my way to Nina and Willa’s to look in on them. Is there anything you’d like me to ask them in particular?”
“Nice try.” He recognized her baiting technique and refused to bite. “But give them my best. I know where to find them. And you, if I have any questions.”
“I still think you’re looking for something that isn’t there.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Fletch could almost see the wall going up between them.
“As long as you’re keeping an open mind.” She offered that sarcastic closed-mouth smile and began to pedal her way down the hill. “We’ll see who’s right,” she called. “Have a good day, Fletch.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“MORNING, SIS.” THE next morning Fletch found his sister at her usual post behind the registration desk of the Flutterby Inn, tapping away on her desktop computer. “Everyone recovered from the wedding?” He didn’t see a sign of the festivities hovering around the iconic three-story Victorian inn located on the highest hill in Butterfly Harbor. He’d worried as much as the rest of the town when a big hotel chain purchased the landmark property, but the new owners stayed true to their word—and the contract—that they would keep things as small-business minded and personal as possible. It didn’t hurt they had a world-class chef heading up their state-of-the-art tourist-destination restaurant.
Lori held up her hand, tapped her ear and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Flannigan. I can confirm we’ve adjusted your reservations back a day to accommodate your flight change. Your room will be ready as soon as you and Mr. Flannigan arrive.” She nodded in that patient way she’d always had from when they were kids. “Yes, ma’am. Oceanside tower room. I’ve made a special note. Yes, ma’am. We’ll see you next week.” When she disconnected she closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. “You know you’re ready for a break when you’re anxious to get to a hotel manager conference.”
“When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. San Diego, here I come.” Lori stood as one of the new front-of-house staff joined them. “I’m taking a coffee break, Alyssa. Mind the store?”
“Sure thing.” The short dark-haired woman who looked as if she’d just leaped out of the pages of a storybook practically saluted. “Slow day today.”
“It’ll pick up once the school year gets into full swing. The mayor has booked a group of rooms for a few days. Some bigwigs having to do with the new construction contracts. Besides, we’re running that September special, so we’ll be plenty busy.” Lori rounded the desk and motioned for Fletch to follow. “What brings you around here this time of day? Oh, wait. Let me guess.” She gestured to the handwritten menu that changed daily and today boasted a Belgian waffle and poached egg special. “Flutterby Dreams breakfast?”
“How about you
join me?”
Lori shook her head, her nutmeg-colored brown hair curling in waves around her shoulders. “I had my protein shake this morning. Only coffee and water until lunch.”
Fletch refrained from commenting. His sister had battled her weight ever since…
He worked hard to stop himself from traveling down that depressing path. He could pinpoint the day her issues had begun; the same day his own childhood had ended. Given Lori’s height, Fletch had always considered her a person with a larger physique, suggested it was something to embrace and accept, but her insecurities and self-deprecating humor kept her on one ridiculous diet after another. She was so pretty, her curves accentuated by her love of sweeping maxi-dresses, today’s in shocking turquoise. No matter how Fletch approached the subject, he couldn’t convince her she was perfect the way she was and that stressing over the weight only added to her struggle.
Then again, he’d never battled that particular demon, so what did he know? “Coffee it is, then.” He followed her into the restaurant portion of the historic inn. Over the past month they’d done a major overhaul of both the exterior and interior of the Flutterby, modernizing where it made sense, letting the history shine through where it mattered most. The display of photographs showing the inn through its half-century-plus history was one of his favorite touches among the sea-foam blues, greens and pristine whites that reminded him of the summer he and Lori had spent with their other grandparents back east. The summer before everything had changed.
Lori guided him through the smattering of guests enjoying their morning start and pointed to a small table by the window overlooking the ocean. “I’ll check with Jason—”
“Are you taking my name in vain?” Jason slipped in behind her and set two cups of coffee on the table. “You’re on a break, Lori. Take a full one. Fletch. How’s it going?” They exchanged hearty handshakes.
“Can’t complain.” Much. He found himself smiling at the friendliness in the New York transplant’s tone. Not so long ago Jason could have won an award for his less-than-amenable attitude. Amazing what falling in love with a terminal pixie like Abby Manning could do to a man. “You still working up your special today?”
