Owen flashed a disarming smile and approached the porch with his hand extended. “I’m glad to finally be introduced to you.”
Paige shook Owen’s hand and gave a little curtsy.
The sudden lump in her throat took Victoria by surprise. They made a lovely picture, the two of them, smiling and shaking hands over the porch rail as the late-afternoon sunlight streamed across the yard. It was an image Victoria didn’t think she’d ever forget. And maybe she didn’t want to forget it, either.
She swallowed back the lump. “Okay, Paige, let’s go back inside. I saved us some day-old double-fudge brownies in the walk-in.”
“What about me?” Owen’s deep voice prodded gently.
Victoria froze. She’d told Owen he could get to know his daughter. She’d promised, though it tore her apart to think of Owen taking Paige away from her. “You can have a brownie if you want.”
He grinned—that same disarming grin he’d flashed earlier—and Victoria felt her heart give a funny lurch.
“I thought I might finish splitting these logs.”
Victoria crossed her arms—it was quite chilly out. “You don’t have to, but I’m not going to stop you.” She was determined not to prove Paige’s assertion that she had trouble accepting help from others.
“If I stop in for that brownie when I’m finished, can we talk?”
“If the café isn’t too busy, sure.” Victoria headed back up to the porch, already not looking forward to the conversation she was certain was going to take place. After all, there was very little chance the café was going to be busy, not until after she had the window replaced, and ultimately, not until trouble stopped plaguing the Sugar Plum.
NINE
Owen poked his head into the kitchen and smiled at the sight of Victoria filling bowls with Irish fish chowder. Curls of her golden hair escaped from the pins that had never seemed to be able to hold it all in place—not even back in high school, when they’d dated. He remembered how her silky curls had felt when she’d let him pull the pins out and free her full mane. She had such gorgeous hair.
When Victoria turned and reached for a tray, she spotted him and startled.
“Sorry to spook you. I finished your woodpile.”
“You finished all of it?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to be sore after all that,” she warned him as she placed the steaming bowls on the tray, then stepped past him to hand the food off to her waitress.
A flirty comment came to Owen’s mind, about the times she’d massaged his sore muscles after football games in high school.
But Owen was pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate that. If he was going to earn her trust, he’d have to be careful what he did and said.
“Your brownie’s in the fridge.” She untied her apron and set it aside.
Owen followed her. “Do we have a moment to talk?”
“Looks like it.” Victoria’s expression fell. “We’re not very busy tonight. I was thinking about sending Britney home early, but…” She looked up at him as she opened the fridge door.
With a glance back to make sure the waitress didn’t overhear him, Owen whispered, “You don’t want to provoke her?”
Victoria bit her lip and looked uncertain. “What do you think I should do?”
A flash of hope shot through him. Victoria wanted his advice? It was a promising sign—as long as he didn’t mess it up.
With another glance back over his shoulder, Owen followed her into the fridge and closed the door securely behind them, surprised by the size of the chilled space they entered. Rows of shelves lined the silvery walls, with food organized in neat rows. “If Britney is involved, she’s going to have to act again before we can catch her. But I don’t like the idea of inviting trouble, not with you and Paige here.” He sighed. “I wish I knew the answer.”
When Victoria pinched her eyes shut, Owen was reminded of the question she’d asked him before—about what God was doing, letting all these bad things happen. He went to church every Sunday, but the pastor’s words always seemed to float by in the air around him, instead of taking root in his heart. Now he wished he could pluck those words like so many flowers, and offer them to Victoria in a bouquet of hope.
“God knows.” Owen wondered, even as he spoke the words, whether they were really true. “God knows who’s behind all of this.”
Victoria looked up at him, her warm brown eyes simmering with something that looked a lot like trust. “You’re right.” She held out her hands. “Maybe we should pray about it.”
Unable to breathe, Owen dutifully reached for Victoria’s hands, his mind spinning. She wanted to pray with him?
The moment he closed his fingers over her slender hands, his mind went blank while terror raced unbridled through him. He’d never been any good at praying. Victoria had given him a shot at earning back her trust, but she wanted him to pray with her? He’d blow it for sure! He didn’t know how to pray, and as soon as she realized that, she’d see right through him.
“Dear God,” he started the prayer, then let out a long sigh. “We need your help.” He swallowed. He needed help. What was he doing, praying with Victoria in her refrigerator? “We need lots of help. Please, please help us.”
Thankfully, Victoria jumped into the prayer. “Dear God, help us to know what to do. We don’t know who to trust. It feels like every time we turn around, something bad happens. And Lord—” Victoria’s voice grew soft with emotion “—I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. I don’t know how I’m going to pay to repair the window, and keep this business going. But You know, Lord. Help me to trust You more.”
Victoria gave Owen’s hands a gentle squeeze, as though prompting him to finish the prayer. Owen’s heart beat harder than it had when he was splitting the logs. “Lord, help us trust You,” he repeated what Victoria had said. “Please help us. Amen.”
When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Victoria wiping away tears.
“Thank you.” She smiled at him—sincerely smiled—for the first time in over ten years.
Owen felt his heart soar and he had to resist the impulse to pull her into his arms. There had always been a palpable chemistry between them—an irresistible chemistry, as he recalled. With the innocent contact of her hands cupped in his in prayer, Owen felt a deluge of loving feelings smack him with powerful force.
“I, um…” He struggled for words, wanting to act on his growing feelings for her, but he knew he had to proceed cautiously. He’d already damaged everything between them. Rebuilding it would take time. “I was hoping to spend some time with you and Paige today. It’s my day off, and you said…”
Worry filled Victoria’s face. “I know. I promised.”
Owen’s heart tore. He hated that the idea of spending time with him would wipe the smile from her face so quickly. But he kept his eyes focused on the goal. He had a daughter to get to know, and he hoped his presence on-site might have the added benefit of giving him a shot at catching their mysterious intruder—or at the very least, keeping the perpetrator at bay.
It took Victoria the better part of the next few days to get used to Owen stopping by. Whether it was for coffee refills, the soup-and-sandwich special or for his extracautious presence hovering about in the evenings, she found herself adjusting to his presence, and felt a foreign stirring inside her when he gave her a twinkle-eyed smile. It would be all too easy to let her old feelings for him resurface.
But at the same time, the mounting sense of dread in her heart told her she’d only found a moment of calm before the storm. They hadn’t caught whoever was behind the break-ins. And though Owen was easing into the task of getting to know Paige—they’d explained he was around for extra security, and Paige hadn’t questioned them—Victoria knew the day wou
ld come when Owen would demand she fulfill her promise to split their daughter’s time between them.
Victoria wasn’t sure how she could ever do that. Paige had never spent one night away from her.
Rather than worry about it, though, as she rolled out crusts for the Irish meat and potato pies that were her Wednesday-night special, Victoria prayed.
And nearly jumped in the air when Owen walked through the back door of her kitchen.
“You nearly scared me to death!” She swung her rolling pin in his general direction, missing him by several feet. “In case you’d forgotten, I’m still a bit jumpy. And—” she dropped her voice and took a step closer to him, just in case Charlotte was within hearing distance “—until we catch whoever’s been causing trouble around here, I’m sure I’ll stay jumpy.”
Owen’s blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “I’ve solved one mystery, anyway.”
Intrigued, Victoria set down her rolling pin. “Which one?”
But instead of a straight answer, Owen raised one finger to his lips. “This way.” He led her on tiptoe to the back door, silently opening it just a crack.
Leaning close to Owen and poking her head around past his arm, Victoria was able to see where he pointed.
Paige crouched on the small patio just beyond the back door, nose to nose with the scrawny calico cat that’d been coming by.
And now Victoria understood why. “She’s feeding it,” she whispered. “Do you think it’s safe? What if it’s carrying rabies?”
“It looks friendly enough. Rabid animals don’t tend to be so friendly.”
Victoria pulled her head back inside. “She’s been asking for a cat. I didn’t think it would be a good idea, with us living right above the restaurant. But if I had to choose, I’d rather have a house cat than let Paige run after strays. What do you think?”
“I’m no expert on cats.”
“But you’re her—” Victoria caught herself. She knew Owen was Paige’s father, but they hadn’t discussed the details of their arrangement, such as making decisions about pets. Would Owen butt heads with her over the details of his daughter’s life? What if they fought over everything and upset Paige? Suddenly the future stretched out before her like a heavy, choking blanket of uncertainty.
Though the two of them had stepped inside, Owen’s arm remained on the door behind her, creating a protected alcove of just the two of them. But Victoria felt that space growing smaller as Owen lowered his head closer to hers.
She raised her hands to hold him back. Their relationship was complicated enough. She didn’t need feelings getting in the mix, too. But every time she was around him, she felt the old pull she’d thought she’d left behind ten years before. The more time she spent around him, the more difficult it became to ignore those feelings. It would be so easy to step right back into the romantic relationship they’d once shared.
His shoulders came to rest against the palms of her hands. Victoria opened her mouth to protest, to tell him to back away, but all she managed was a breathless, “Owen.”
The tip of his nose touched her forehead, and his lips grazed her eyebrows, planting tiny whispers of kisses there. All the walls she’d tried to put up to keep him away fell brick by brick as he nuzzled his way closer into her heart.
“Owen.” She tightened her grip on his shoulders. How many times during his recent visits had she wanted to be in his arms again? With all the uncertainties in her life, she could use a comforting presence, and someone to hold her close and tell her everything was going to be all right.
But Owen wasn’t that person. Owen wasn’t going to make everything all right, he was going to take Paige away from her.
But it felt so good to be close to him, to feel his solid muscles supporting her.
His eyes slid into focus in front of hers, twin blue pools of caring and strength.
She gulped a breath to clear her head, but all she got was a taste of him lingering in the air so close. His hands slid farther around her, pulling her against him. She looked him full in the face and her lips parted.
His kiss was gentle. The terrors and stress of the past few weeks melted away, and she was eighteen again, in love with Owen for the very first time. She closed her eyes, wanting the moment to last forever, wishing it could be real.
The sound of little boots stomping on the stoop outside snapped Victoria back to attention. Just in time, she and Owen broke away.
Paige stepped inside, practically in between them, her smile broadening when she saw the detective. “Hi!” She greeted him on her way to the hand-washing sink. “Detective Owen Fitzgerald.” She worked her hands up into a soapy lather, just as Victoria had taught her.
Victoria caught her breath. Should she say something to Paige about the cat? She couldn’t seem to think straight after being in Owen’s arms. And she couldn’t look at him again, either. Instead, she got in line behind Paige at the sink, washed her hands and returned to her work with the pie crust. Irish meat-and-potato pies didn’t bake themselves. Whatever else was going on at the Sugar Plum, she had to keep the place afloat.
Paige dried her hands on a towel and looked Owen up and down. “Detective Owen Fitzgerald,” she repeated in a singsong tone, then scowled.
Still a little self-conscious from nearly being caught in an embrace with Owen, Victoria laughed at her daughter’s funny face. “What are you doing, Paige? I hope you’re being polite to the detective.”
“I’m trying to remember.” Paige hung the hand towel back on its rack. “Hmm, hmm.”
Owen planted his hands on his knees and crouched down closer to her level. “What are you trying to remember?”
But Paige only shook her head, her curling blond ponytails flapping side-to-side with the movement. “Can people hum and sing at the same time?”
“I suppose,” Owen said with a chuckle. “If they don’t know the words very well. Or if they’re trying not to sing out loud. Why?”
“Detective Owen Fitzgerald,” Paige sang the name softly, then scowled again. “It’s not quite right.”
“Are you writing a song about me?”
“Not me—the man who broke into the safe. He was humming.” Paige hummed a few more notes, snapped her fingers and then finished in tune with “Owen Fitzgerald.”
Owen hummed the notes back to her.
Before he’d finished, Victoria named the song. “‘The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.’”
“No, Mom.” Paige sang the words. “The wreck of the Owen Fitzgerald.”
“It’s a song, Paige,” Victoria corrected. “The name of the song is ‘The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.’”
“But he wasn’t singing Edmund.” Paige shook her head emphatically and sang again, more forcefully this time, “The wreck of the Owen Fitzgerald.”
Owen quickly shushed her. “My name?” He looked a little concerned. “Why would the person breaking into your safe sing my name?”
“Maybe it wasn’t your name.” Paige headed for the stairs that led to their apartment, clearly tired of the conversation. “Maybe it just sounded like your name. He was only partly singing and partly humming. I didn’t really hear the words.”
Once Paige had left, Owen turned to Victoria and raised an eyebrow.
Victoria looked out into the foyer to be sure they weren’t going to be overheard. Charlotte and Britney weren’t scheduled to come in until five, but Victoria still wanted to be careful. “That complicates matters,” she told Owen in a hushed tone once she was sure no one else was listening in.
“The singing?”
“Yes. Remember Clint, Britney’s on-again, off-again boyfriend you caught peeking in the window? I know Paige said he wasn’t the man who broke into the safe, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Does he sin
g?”
“Yes. He and Britney both sing. They’re aspiring entertainers—singing and acting. That’s how they met.”
“But why would he be singing my name?”
Victoria had to think about it. “Have you ever pulled him over, or issued him a parking ticket?”
“It’s possible, but why would he break into your safe if he was upset with me?”
Victoria set another pile of dough on the rolling surface and gave it a couple of good, angry rolls. Nothing like a little extra gumption to get her pie crusts flaky thin. “If he was upset with you, and if Britney has something against me, and the two of them are working together—maybe they thought they could both get even with us at once.”
“Maybe.” Owen walked closer to where Victoria was working. “I’d have to check my records.” He hovered over her shoulder.
Lifting a crust onto the waiting pan, Victoria turned in one motion to face Owen. “What?”
His face held tenderness. “I’d forgotten how much I missed you.”
Her heart started hammering inside her, the memory of the kiss they’d shared still too fresh, and far too tempting to repeat. “We’re not in high school anymore,” she reminded him. “Life is really complicated now.”
“What are you saying?”
Victoria had to set down the rolling pin again. She didn’t know when she was ever going to get the pies made. “I’m saying that I’m watching my employees to try to figure out if they’re conspiring to steal against me, and bracing myself against the possibility of another break-in. And Olivia’s murderer is still on the loose. And you’re asking me to share my child. I’m saying, life is really complicated right now, and I don’t know if I can handle any more complications.”
“So, I’m a complication?”
Picking up her rolling pin, she waved it at him, as much to get him to back off as anything. “You’re a detective. But when you kiss me…” She took a scattered breath and started flattening the next pile of dough. “Then you’re a complication.”
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