by Mia Caldwell
PHAE TRIED TO KEEP HER balance while Sylvie yanked a chair over and shoved Phae into it.
“Smelling salts, Sylvie! Quickly!” Miss Eugenia demanded.
Sylvie lightly slapped Phae’s cheeks. “It’s not 1880. We don’t have smelling salts laying around.”
Neesa looked closely into Phae’s face. “She looks ashen around the mouth. She hasn’t fainted, though. I don’t think all that slapping is necessary, Sylvie.”
Phae heard nothing. She told herself that none of the story could be true. She refused to consider the idea that she could make such a mistake. And yet, the man skulking around Miss Eugenia’s house hadn’t been a burglar. Unbelievable. The nearly unconscious man she’d tied to the post had been the sickly nephew, Kent.
But what was this about bashing him on the head? She’d done no such thing.
Neesa’s voice penetrated Phae’s mental haze. “Look, her eyes are coming back into focus. Seriously, Sylvie, quit slapping her. How is she supposed to talk with you smacking her around like that?”
“I think it’s helping,” Sylvie said.
Phae grabbed Sylvie’s hands and pushed them away. “Stop it! My cheeks are on fire.”
“Oh my goodness,” Miss Eugenia said. “You gave us quite a scare. Poor, sweet girl. I didn’t mean to distress you so badly. I didn’t realize you cared so much for my poor Kent. You’ve never met, have you? I’ve told you so much about him over the years that you probably feel like you know him, though. Forgive me. Poor, sweet girl. A sensitive soul.”
Phae wondered if maybe she should be doing a little slapping herself. “No, honestly, I’m fine. I didn’t eat any breakfast. I’m fine now.”
Neesa frowned. “Sylvie, run back into her apartment and get her something to eat.”
Phae began to protest but Sylvie had already raced away, gone through the back door. Phae returned her attention to the elderly lady.
“So,” she said to Miss Eugenia, “someone hit your nephew on the head?”
“Oh yes. Bashed him right on the forehead. Poor Kent could have been killed.”
Phae tried to settle this version of events with what had actually happened. It didn’t add up. She contemplated her next question.
Sylvie returned with a cold hot dog on a piece of white bread. She thrust it into Phae’s hands. “Eat it. It’s repulsive, but it’s all I could find in that wasteland you call a fridge.”
In order to keep up her cover story, Phae took a big bite.
Sylvie grimaced. “That is so gross.”
“Get over it,” Phae grumbled, her mouth still full. It wasn’t so bad. Sylvie was a food snob.
“Let the poor woman eat,” Neesa said.
Phae nodded. “I wanna know about the nephew.”
Sylvie pulled a chair beside Phae. “Captain Nice Guy snuck into Miss Eugenia’s back yard last night, apparently to replant the garden that those hooligans ran their bikes through a couple days ago. He didn’t finish, though, and left all these unplanted flowers behind. Anyway, Miss Eugenia had been worried about those hooligans destroying her garden and so she called her nephew to come stay with her and protect her for a few days …”
“Actually,” Miss Eugenia interrupted, “he was coming anyway to spend some time with me. And I didn’t ask him to come. He was concerned about me and my safety, so he flew in from Phoenix a few days early.”
Sylvie winked at Phae. “Right. Anyway, Captain Nice Guy must not be as well-informed as we’ve thought. He didn’t know Kent was there. So, last night, Kent told the police that he couldn’t sleep and that he heard a noise in the back yard. He went outside to investigate and found a cat and figured that was what had made the noise. On his way back into the house—”
Miss Eugenia broke in. “And that’s when Captain Nice Guy smashed poor Kent on the head and tied him to my laundry pole. It’s all my fault. I should have had those poles taken out years ago. Poor Kent. You should see him. He looks simply dreadful.”
Phae grimaced. She hadn’t hit anyone. Was Kent lying? “He said that the captain hit him? For sure?”
“Yes.”
Sylvie turned her back on Miss Eugenia and grinned slyly at Phae. “That’s one side of the story. I heard that Kent told the police that he’d started to go back into the house when someone said something like, ‘Hey you!’ He nearly had a heart attack as I hear it. He turned around fast and BAM! He smashed his head on the cross bar of the laundry line pole.”
Neesa hid a grin behind her hand when Miss Eugenia sniffed loudly. Phae was simply relieved that Kent had told the truth after all.
Sylvie continued her version of events. “Kent said the next thing he realized, he was tied to the pole and this guy was kind of laughing at him, saying it served him right, and that the police would be there soon to take care of him.” Sylvie couldn’t contain herself any longer and burst out laughing.
Neesa joined her.
“Oh, hush, you two,” Miss Eugenia scolded with an offended look. “Kent invented all that to protect the real villain, that Captain man. Kent can’t know what actually happened. He’s befuddled from the blow. It nearly killed him, I tell you, though he won’t admit it. You simply would not believe the trouble I had making him stay in bed today. I blame myself, though, no one else. Not even the captain. He was trying to help, I’m sure. But he should be more careful about who he whacks on the head and ties up. He should be thankful that Kent covered for him by making up that other story.”
Sylvie stifled more laughter and headed over to where Neesa was waiting to get her hair washed.
Sylvie lowered the back of the chair. “I heard all that really happened is Kent got a bump on his head.”
“That’s what I heard, too,” Neesa added quickly before Sylvie turned on the water.
Miss Eugenia raised her chin. “I throw my hands up on the lot of you. This town is filled with gossips who can’t get their stories straight. Laugh all you want, but I know the truth of the matter.”
Phae could see she was getting wound up but knew no way to stop it.
Miss Eugenia continued. “And what am I going to do about my garden? That captain may do some good deeds for folks, but he’s a terrible gardener. You should see it. The two rows he planted are all crooked and some of the plants are nearly sideways in the ground. It was very dark last night, granted, and he should probably do his good deeds during the day. But still, is he blind or something?”
Phae winced, once again cursing her lousy night-vision gear. Without thinking, she blurted, “I’ll take care of it, Miss Eugenia. How about this weekend?”
Sylvie and Neesa looked shocked. Though Miss Eugenia was a kind old lady, no one volunteered to spend time with her.
“Such a sweet girl,” Miss Eugenia said. “So concerned. You nearly fainted when I told you about what happened to poor Kent, didn’t you? You’re so sweet to offer, Phae.”
“Actually, the fainting thing was because I hadn’t eaten. I’m fine. Let’s do your hair.”
“Don’t be so modest. You’re a concerned human being and you care about others. When you come, you’ll meet Kent. I’m sure you’ll get along fabulously. Now, about my hair. I want a set. I can’t be away from poor Kent for too long. He never has been very healthy. Have I mentioned that? I’m afraid this recent to-do might cause him a setback. You don’t suppose you could come plant my garden tomorrow afternoon, do you? It would be so nice if Kent had a visitor during his convalescence. I’ll help him come outside so he can keep you company while you work.”
Phae struggled to keep from grinning at the idea of the frail lady helping anyone get anywhere. She couldn’t figure out how Miss Eugenia got herself around and about. “Sure. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
Sylvie patted Neesa’s hair with a towel. “Are you matchmaking, Miss Eugenia?”
She waved her hand. “I honestly hadn’t given it any thought.” She gave Phae a critical look-over. “Phae’s a lovely girl, but too independent for my Kent. He needs someone to tak
e care of him and pamper him. Maybe someone who’s a nurse. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but Kent’s not very well.”
Phae spritzed down Miss Eugenia’s baby-fine hair and began to roll it. Only half-listening to Miss Eugenia’s chatter, she nodded off and on. She told herself not to think about what had happened to Kent. She also avoided considering what criminal charges she might face if she were discovered.
Having no children herself, Miss Eugenia doted on her only nephew, boring everyone in town with her endless bragging about him. She said Kent was the owner of some big shot software company out in Phoenix. She even went so far as to claim the guy was a billionaire. Phae had nearly snorted out loud the first time she heard that one.
A billionaire. Sure he was. She supposed Kent might be moderately successful, and she couldn’t blame Miss Eugenia for being proud of him, but she didn’t believe a quarter of the old lady’s stories.
As for who Kent actually was, he was probably a sniveling narcissist thanks to the elderly lady’s overbearing devotion. She imagined him at that very moment gathering all the manpower his supposed wealth could muster to wreak revenge on Captain Nice Guy.
Ridiculous. He was probably like every other small business owner Phae knew: struggling to keep their doors open and living hand-to-mouth.
This morning had not turned out as she’d expected. She had thought that, once again, everyone in town would hail Captain Nice Guy as a great hero. Instead, he was a laughingstock to some and a villain to others. Damn.
How could she have made such a stupid mistake? Funny thing, though. For such a sickly man, Kent appeared to be awfully large and muscular. And he was really heavy when she shoved him up against the pole.
Maybe she needed to work out more.
She’d have to reschedule three appointments the next day in order to spend a long afternoon with a chatterbox lady and a sickly, wheezy computer nerd. Great.
She hoped her lousy night vision monocle would like its new home in the landfill.
Chapter 3
PHAE RELUCTANTLY KNOCKED ON MISS Eugenia’s front door. Maybe she’d get lucky and if she clicked her heels together, the afternoon would be over. Or she’d disappear. Or Miss Eugenia wouldn’t answer the door. Or—
Miss Eugenia opened the door.
“Phae, dear, come in. I’m all ready for you. I know you’re busy, so we’ll go on out to the back yard. Unless you’d like some pie first. Would you like some pie? No, well, I have plenty if you’d like a slice. Rhubarb. And sweet potato. And peach. And blueberry. And, oh I can’t remember them all. Everyone has been so kind, sending over treats to succor poor Kent during his convalescence. Follow me, dear. Right through here.”
Last night, Phae had had a terrible nightmare. She’d been stuck in Miss Eugenia’s parlor sipping a lukewarm, bottomless cup of tea as the elderly woman recited the family history of every person in Zeke’s Bend. Garden implements floated by, an inch out of reach. Whenever Phae tried to grab one, it disappeared, and Miss Eugenia would make her eat another cookie. Pasty-faced, skinny Kent reclined on the sofa cackling like a maniac. “I’ll get that Captain Nice Guy,” he screeched.
She’d woken and sat up straight, her brow damp from sweat. Dumbass nightmare.
While her visit today wasn’t likely to turn into a wonderful outing, it had to be better than her nightmare.
“Here we go, dear,” Miss Eugenia said. “Out the back door. Watch that step. It always takes me by surprise.” She rambled on about how long she’d been living in the house (forty years) and how her father left it to her, and how it was a good thing because she was an old maid and a poor, retired school teacher.
“I never much liked children,” Miss Eugenia added, saying her first interesting thing of the visit. “Kent is the only child I ever liked. And now he’s all grown up.”
She pointed to the rear of her large yard. “There’s my garden, dear. Come along. You should have seen how lovely my flowers were before those ruffians tore it up. I’m not sure how these new plants will fare since it’s already June. Look at that. Terrible sight, isn’t it?”
Phae frowned as she took in the sloppy, crooked rows of wilting plants. “Captain Nice Guy isn’t much of a gardener, is he?”
“It’ll take some work to get it back in shape. But you’re young and strong. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job.”
Phae nodded, wondering morosely how long the replanting would take. She pasted a smile on her face while Miss Eugenia pointed out where the tools could be found and other information she thought Phae required, like who had built the tool shed and how she was afraid of spiders and how the mealy worms got her roses, etc.
Phae grabbed some tools out of the shed then kneeled down to get started.
The elderly lady settled into a nearby lawn chair. “I’m glad it turned off cool and cloudy today. The weatherman said it will be unseasonably cool for the next couple days. It’s a front from Canada. Or maybe Alaska. Do we get fronts from Alaska? You should have worn gloves, dear. You have to protect your pretty hands if you don’t want callouses. And you don’t, by the way. It’s not ladylike, my mother always said. I think there’s some gloves in the shed. Go fetch them. Right. There you go. A lady must protect her hands. I’m not sure why, but that’s what everyone says, so there must be truth to it.”
Screw the gloves, Phae thought, digging around in the cobwebby shed, wishing she had earplugs instead.
“Can you find them, Phae? Ah, I see. They’re large, aren’t they? They’ll work, though. They probably belong to Kent. Oh … Kent. What’s happening to me? I forgot all about him. He’s still in bed. I’ll be back shortly. Carry on without me.”
Phae watched Miss Eugenia speed across the lawn. For all her complaints, the woman had her spry moments.
The plants lifted easily out of the loose soil. She could probably finish the job in a few hours. She glanced at her watch. If she managed to avoid a dinner invitation, she’d be home by six.
Phae sped up her digging and soon lost herself in the work. She jerked when she heard the bang of the screen door.
She looked up. And her mouth dropped open.
MISS EUGENIA, TINY LADY THAT she was, plodded slowly across the lawn, a giant man draped around her. Phae hid her grin behind the back of her gloved hand.
She couldn’t see Kent’s face because he’d lowered his head, obviously in an attempt to better hear Miss Eugenia’s admonitions to take care and walk slower. He’d bent himself nearly in half in order to wrap both his arms around Miss Eugenia’s thin shoulders.
His aunt had one hand on his waist while the other hand fluttered about to emphasize her warnings. Kent’s rear end bobbed up and down with each mincing step.
They looked like they were involved in the most bizarre hug Phae had ever seen.
“Be careful, Kent. It’s only a few more steps. You can do it. Almost there. Be careful. There’s the chair behind her. Not too fast! You might get dizzy. There … there … there. Ahh.” Miss Eugenia beamed triumphantly.
“We made it,” she burbled. “I knew we would. Now you sit and rest. I know it was a terrible trip. Oh. This is Phae Jones. She’s the one who kindly offered to replant my garden. Phae, this is my darling nephew—”
Miss Eugenia gasped then rushed to Phae’s side. “Oh, my poor dear. Look, Kent … tears! Oh, don’t cry, Phae. He’ll be fine, eventually. Truly. He’s just weak. See, Kent? Didn’t I tell you how compassionate she is?”
Phae fought to control herself but was losing the battle. Every second she held in the laughter, more tears streamed down her cheeks. She tried to take a deep, steadying breath but only tiny spurts of air would enter her spasmodic windpipe.
Wiping her face with the delicate handkerchief that Miss Eugenia gave her, Phae realized that to outsiders she probably looked like she was having a grief fit. This insight only made the situation funnier.
“Oh, Kent!” Miss Eugenia cried. “Her face is a funny color. I bet it’s the heat stroke. Is it hot e
nough for that? I don’t know. I’ll get a cool cloth anyway. And some lemonade.” She patted Phae’s shoulder. “Lemonade fixes everything. I’ll be right back.”
Phae clamped her hand over her mouth until the little lady disappeared into the house. Then she collapsed onto the ground and cut loose, laughing.
The more she thought about it, the funnier it got. She indulged herself until her hilarity subsided into a giggle, then pulled herself into a seated position and realized she’d been hearing a deep, rumbling chuckle.
She looked at Kent.
He sat reclined back in the lawn chair, hands clasped behind his head and legs stretched out straight. He was nothing like she’d imagined.
He had thick black hair, so shiny it nearly shimmered blue like a blackbird’s wing. He had a handsome Roman nose, straight and long. A square jaw. Unblemished tanned, beach bum skin. Beautiful, twinkling blue eyes. The only imperfection on that face was the blue and green lump on his wide forehead.
He was a powerfully handsome man, with the kind of hard body a woman dreams about while taking a bubble bath. His biceps bulged in perfect definition. And his chest … mmm …
“I take it I didn’t fool you with my cripple act,” Kent said in the deepest, richest bass voice she’d ever heard. It was mesmerizing.
Phae blinked. “Huh?”
“I said I was unable to fool you. How tall are you?”
“Fool me? I don’t think so. Tall?”
Kent smiled then repeated himself, slowly. “How … tall … are … you?”
His tone snapped Phae to attention. “Five-eight, smart guy.”
Kent smiled on.
“Why do you want to know how tall I am? And that’s what I meant when I said ‘tall’ the way I did,” Phae said.
“Pardon me. I misunderstood. I thought maybe your heat stroke had left you giddy, disoriented perhaps.”
