Shaking my head, I pushed those thoughts out.
"I just can't see it, Miz Quinn. Who'd want a bunch of granny panties?" Mr. Cabrera said in between sips. The spoon clanked against my mug as I set it in the sink. "I think it's something we should mention to the cops." Absently, I wondered if Kevin had been keeping up with the burglaries in the area, if he cared.
A lump of something that felt suspiciously like self-pity built in my stomach, making me feel slightly sick. I needed to stop thinking about Kevin. Denial was a good thing. Ignorance and bliss and all. I groaned, catching myself sounding like my mother again.
Mr. Cabrera levered himself off the kitchen stool. His blue eyes shimmered under his whitened lashes. "Yeah, yeah. Like they'll listen to us."
Before I could argue that point, he said, "What we need to do is organize us a neighborhood watch. We can set up twenty-four-hour patrols in shifts. Keep tabs on everyone." I closed my eyes as he rambled on. For years Mr. Cabrera had been trying to get a neighborhood watch together. For years the Mill had been loath to do so. Around here, a watch wasn't needed. Everyone knew everyone, and everything about everyone. No one had wanted to give Mr. Cabrera permission to snoop. He did well enough on his own. But that had been before this string of burglaries that proved the Mill wasn't quite as close-knit as everyone thought.
No, we weren't immune at all. And with the news tonight about Mrs. Warnicke, I had to admit I was a little nervous about some wacko breaking in here and pawing through my undie drawer.
I shuddered. "Maybe you ought to talk to people tomorrow, see what they think."
He smiled a mischievous kind of smile that had me thinking this wasn't such a good idea. "Yeah. I'll do that." Then he looked up at me with hopeful eyes. "You didn't talk to Ursula yet, did you?"
Oh, the guilt! I reached out and patted his liver-spotted wrinkled hand. "Not yet."
In the silence that hung in the air after that, I heard a scratching noise coming from the laundry room. "Did you hear that?" I asked, my nerves jumping to full alert.
"I'm not deaf, thank you very much." He shot me a cranky look that I suspected had more to do with me not talking to Mrs. Krauss than with any unintentional insult to his hearing.
This time a definite rattling came from the laundry room—someone was trying to get in the back door. I grabbed the can of whipped topping, and Mr. Cabrera grabbed the dish towel hanging on the oven handle. Together, like we were joined at the hip, we ambled toward the back door, nearly toppling when Mr. Cabrera missed the step down into the laundry room. I grabbed hold of his damp shirt and righted him.
Through the sheer curtain, I could see the dim outline of someone on the other side of the door. The outdoor sconce highlighted his every move as he tried to get in.
Mr. Cabrera motioned to throw the dead bolt. I nodded, and he flipped the lock and yanked open the door in one smooth move.
I sprang forward, spraying whipped cream into the intruder's face while wishing I had Maria's Aqua Net. Mr. Cabrera started whacking him in the head with the towel. "Stop!" the intruder yelled. "Nina! Stop!"
He sounded suspiciously like Kevin, but the height was all wrong. I dropped my can. "Riley?!"
Rain poured down on us. Mr. Cabrera used the towel to wipe away whipped cream. He tsked as Riley's petulant face was slowly uncovered, his tongue swiping the corner of his lips.
I pulled him inside. Mr. Cabrera closed the door. We all dripped on the floor.
White cream flecks dotted Riley's dark lashes. I checked the rest of him. Jeans, sneaks, hoodie—all soaked. The ends of his platinum hair dripped onto his shoulders. I tapped my soggy foot. "Explain."
Mr. Cabrera tapped his foot too. "It better be good."
I looked at Mr. Cabrera. "Don't you think it's time you go home now?" A limp white eyebrow arched. "No."
"Look, I heard the commotion outside," Riley said. "The sirens woke me up."
Hmmph. I'd managed to sleep right through them.
Riley continued, his hands gesturing here, there, and everywhere. "I went to see what it was." He rocked, heel to heel, little squishy sounds echoing through the small room. "Poor Mrs. Warnicke, huh?"
"Why didn't you wake me up?" I asked.
His eyes widened and a high-wattage smile formed. "But, Nina, you looked so peaceful . . . on the sofa?" he ventured, all angelic-like.
Crap! Too late, I realized Riley hadn't known I was asleep! Why? Because he'd probably been out all night! The bugger. I could have kicked myself. "Go," I ordered, mad at myself more now than at him. You'd think after eight years I'd be better at this mother thing. "Go clean up. And then go . . . to . . . bed."
With a devilish grin on his face, he scampered off, his shoes squeaking on the kitchen floor.
Mr. Cabrera took a step back, eyed me with disdain. "How do you expect to catch a panty thief with such poor interrogation skills? You practically spelled out that you were asleep on the couch and didn't know what was goin' on!" I pointed toward the door. "Out. You go to bed too."
Hinges squeaked as he pulled open the back door. "I'll find you tomorrow, Miz Quinn. Fill you in on the latest happenings." He stepped out into the rain, turned back to me. "You want to be in on the neighborhood watch? Maybe Tuesday nights?" "Think I'll pass."
"Fine. But when that thief comes a'calling, don't come cry—"
I slammed the door closed, took a deep breath, and went to take inventory of my undies.
Six
Early the next morning, I barreled into my office, trying to escape the rain. Luckily, Tam had already arrived, and I hadn't had to fight with the door's dead bolt. The idea of a portico out front popped into my head, and I stored it away to think about later. Time. There just wasn't enough of it these days. Not with everything going on. A skivvy stealer, Riley's late night activities, and most importantly, Maria and Nate.
Though the cow bell above the door jangled loudly, Tam didn't look up. She stood motionless, staring at her desk, hands on hips. The maternity blouse she wore clung to her curves, exaggerating her belly.
By the expression on her face, something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
"Tam?" Sloshing over, I waved my hand in front of her face. She jumped back in surprise.
"Nina! I didn't hear you."
"What's wrong?" I asked, setting my damp backpack down.
She walked around her desk, pulled out her huge red rattan chair. Her throne, as I liked to call it. Gingerly, she sat. Her eyebrows snapped together into devil-like points. "Someone went through my desk."
My eyes widened. Her desk looked perfectly normal. "How can you tell?"
"Do you doubt me?" she asked in that regal tone of hers. I wasn't about to argue with a paranoid pregnant woman. "Nope."
"This," she said, pointing to a small ceramic jar that held pens and pencils, "is in the wrong spot." She slid it an inch to the right.
I pressed my lips together. I wouldn't have noticed if my pencil cup was missing, never mind having been moved a fraction of an inch. "Is it?" I asked.
She either missed my sarcasm or had decided to ignore it. "It is."
With an irritated tone, she went on to list things that had been moved, misplaced, or rifled through. When she finished, she folded her arms on top of her belly. Anger clouded her blue eyes. "The Winker." "Leo? What about him?"
She glared at me. "He did this. I knew he was bad news. His references may have come back okay, but he is bad, bad, news." While muttering under her breath about pretty boys and not being able to trust them, she dragged a tote bag onto her lap.
"How could Leo have done it?" I asked. "You were the last one out last night and the first one in this morning . . ."
"Oh," she said, her voice full of contempt, "he has his wicked ways, I'm sure."
Her vehement tone reminded me that I had my own reservations about Leo Barker. Ana hadn't sent him to me, and I still didn't know who had. I added finding out who did to my growing to-do list.
Tam unpacked her tote, unloadin
g a stapler, the infamous hole punch, several small knickknacks that usually dotted her desk, and even a small potted African violet. At my astonished glance, she explained. "I had a feeling this would happen, so I took a few things home with me last night."
"You think he'd break in here to steal your African violet?" "It's award-winning. And her name is Sassy."
Holding in a smile, I remembered that she was part of a local African violet club and took it very seriously. I gathered up my backpack, thinking that pregnancy was making her a little bit nutso.
Not trusting myself not to say something that would make her cranky, I beat a hasty retreat. "I'll be in my office should you find any more evidence."
Her right eyebrow dipped. "Are you mocking me?" I gasped and teased, "Never."
The sign on my door read nina quinn, president. I hated that sign. "President" sounded so hoity-toity. I kept it only because Tam had insisted, I still wasn't clear why. Something about being in charge and showing it. Nina Quinn. Quinn. Hmmph. I still needed to decide if I was keeping that last name too. I hated to admit it, but I'd kind of grown fond of it. And going back to being a Ceceri seemed like a step back into full-blown dysfunction. Still, it was his name and he was persona non grata these days. However, next to Riley, Kevin's name might be the only other good thing I'd gotten out of my marriage. Rain beat against the windowpane inside my office, and I groaned. My schedule had taken a backseat to Mother Nature. Not that there weren't things to do, there were. Bills, invoices to double and triple check, design plans to create, presentations to complete . . .
I had six employees all together, three part-time, three full-time. Tam, Kit, and Deanna Parks worked full-time; Marty Johnson, Coby Fowler, and Jean-Claude Reaux worked part-time, except for summers, when Marty and Coby, full-time students, worked more than forty-hour weeks. No one was quite sure what Jean-Claude did in his free time. No one wanted to know.
Since all my employees came to me through Ana, they'd all been on the wrong side of the law at one time or another. We all suspected Jean-Claude was still on the wrong side, but what he did on his own time was his own business. Until it affected his work, I'd stay out of it.
The phone rang and I heard Tam pick it up.
I booted my computer, and waited for it to clear out the cobwebs. I thought about the Fryes and how I'd agreed to do a mini for them.
The things I do for my sister.
I hadn't heard from Maria yet that morning, but I knew it was just a matter of time. I hoped she'd call with good news.
Forcefully, I pushed thoughts of Maria and Nate away. Work. I needed to get some work done.
"Nina, call on one," Tam called through my open door.
Picking up the phone, I said, "Nina Quinn."
"Hi there."
My stomach did a happy little flip. He didn't need to say who it was—with my body's reaction, it could only be one person. Robert MacKenna.
"Hi," I said.
"You haven't returned my calls. I was worried your stash of Almond Joys had run out and you'd fainted somewhere." I told my stomach to knock off its happy dance. Nothing good could come of this friendship MacKenna and I shared. Nothing. He was married. Off limits. I was on the rebound. It was a disaster waiting to happen. Still, I didn't want to let him go. So I compromised. "Robert, I can't talk right now. Lots of work to do."
"Liar!" Tam shouted from the other room.
"I'll talk to you later," I said, while giving Tam the Ceceri evil eye through the wall.
"Wait!" MacKenna said. "You've been avoiding me, Nina. Why?"
"I . . . It's complicated."
"Is it because I'm Riley's vice principal?"
Oh jeez. I hadn't even thought of that.
"I've got to go," I repeated.
"Liar, liar," Tam yelled.
I was seriously thinking about wringing her neck.
"I thought we had . . . something," MacKenna said.
"We . . . did." I swallowed. "We do."
"Then why?"
Taking a deep breath, I let all my misgivings hang out in a big rush of words. "I can't be the other woman, Robert. I can't. Not after what Kevin did to me, and even if he hadn't. It's just not in me to be a home wrecker. You're married, and I won't cross those lines."
"But Nina, I—"
I hung up before he said something to make me change my mind and question my morals.
Almost immediately the phone rang again. I sprinted to Tam's desk. "Don't answer it!"
Her hand inched toward the receiver.
"Don't!" I warned.
"You're being chicken," she said.
Another ring.
I grabbed Sassy off her desk. "If you answer that phone, Sassy's gonna be nothing but a stem," I said, holding a leaf between two fingers.
The phone rang again. Tam gasped. "You wouldn't!"
I tugged.
"No!" she shouted, eyes all wide. "Fine! I won't answer. Just put her down."
The phone kicked over to voice mail. "And if he calls again, you're going to say what?"
"You're busy," Tam mumbled, not taking her eyes off her prized African violet.
Carefully, I set Sassy back on the desk and backtracked into my office before Tam hole-punched me.
Back at my desk, I opened my bottom drawer and stared at the stack of Almond Joys. Robert had been sending me them once a week since the day I'd almost passed out in his office from hunger.
I plucked one out of the drawer, tore open the wrapper, and tried really hard to get Robert MacKenna off my mind. Work. I needed to focus on work.
Verona Frye wanted a mini. Leaning back in my chair, I could just imagine what she considered mini. I seriously needed to learn how to tell my baby sister no.
Part of me wanted to pawn this project off onto Deanna, an up and coming designer, but I had the feeling Maria wouldn't stand for anyone other than me doing the job. As I wondered how to get out of doing the mini, I doubleclicked to check my e-mail. It took a few minutes to delete spam. Served me right for not checking my mail for a few days.
One e-mail in particular caught my attention: [email protected]. It wasn't unusual for Nate to e-mail me. We'd been sending backyard plans back and forth for a while now.
This e-mail, however, had come in yesterday, which made me hurry to double-click it open.
First off, I checked the time: 8:45 a.m. My gaze then jumped to the text.
Nina, no time to explain—my boss is waiting for me.
I've messengered a package to you. Could you bring it
with you this afternoon when you meet Maria and me
at the house? Whatever you do, don't open it, and
don't tell Maria about it. Thanks much. Nate.
Two things struck me. One, that Nate had fully intended to meet with Maria and me yesterday. Second—I looked around my office—I hadn't received any package. I found Tam, clipboard in hand, pencil between her teeth, taking stock of the fridge in the lounge area.
There didn't seem to be any lingering hard feelings about Sassy as she looked up, removed the pencil. "There's a Mountain Dew missing."
I didn't even want to know how she knew that. "I bet he drinks Mountain Dew."
Oh. We were back to being paranoid about Leo Barker. "I drink it too, once in a while."
Her gaze narrowed. "Maybe, but I'd know if you drank it."
I didn't want to know how she'd know that either. I think maybe I was too predictable. "Tam," I said, "did I happen to get any packages yesterday? Something by messenger?"
"Lyle."
"Who's Lyle?"
"The messenger."
"Oh."
"Do you know what happened to the package Lyle brought?"
Her eyes widened. "With those men here yesterday, I forgot to give it to you. Then you left and I didn't want to leave it here overnight, because if it was special enough to be messengered, then well, it must be important, right? I didn't want Leo to put his sticky fingers on it." She stood up slowly, wobbled sli
ghtly. "Now look! Look what he's done! He's making me incompetent at my job!"
I'd never seen her so angry. It was the first time she hadn't sounded like Queen Elizabeth in the three years I'd known her. "Tam," I soothed. "It's okay. It's not important at all. Just something from Nate."
She walked over to her desk, rifled through her tote. "I forgot I had it."
Which said a lot. Tam never forgot anything. Ever.
Whatever animosity she held toward Leo was taking its toll on her. That, and maybe the six pounds of baby and twenty-five pounds of water she was carting around. She handed me a small five-by-seven manila envelope. "You've got to get rid of him, Nina."
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