Luke dropped to his haunches. He was less than a foot away from her. “How do you do that?”
Lucy played dumb. She stared at him. His eyes were magical in their intensity. “Do what?”
“You know, read my mind. I think something, and you say it out loud.”
“Now, that’s just silly. Coincidence.”
“There’s no such thing as coincidence. You were hit by lightning. It could have left you with extraordinary powers. I saw a movie once about that very thing. It was a curse.”
Lucy laughed out loud. “You mean like Superman?”
She’s making fun of me. Reducing me to a stammering fool. Who is this person?
Lucy laughed again. “I think you think I’m making fun of you. I’m not. Not really. I’m just enjoying your little joke. In the end, I’m just me, Lucy Brighton, who came to Florida to bury her parents and managed to get hit by lightning as I was preparing to leave to return home. I’m just your normal get-hit-by-lightning kind of gal.”
Luke stared at the tiny bridge of freckles marching across Lucy’s nose. That was how close he was. She had the clearest, greenest eyes he’d ever seen. Those green eyes were laughing at him. In spite of himself, he grinned. “I think I’ve worn out my welcome. Have a safe trip home. Don’t get up. I can see myself out.”
“Don’t forget to stop by if you make it to Manhattan.”
“Count on it, Miss Brighton.”
You know it, Mr. Kingston. Now, wouldn’t that be something if he really did show up at her door during the holidays? Ah, the stuff dreams are made of.
Chapter Seven
Luke Kingston opened the kitchen door of the house he shared with his father. It smelled good, which meant his father was cooking again, trying to recapture the recipes his beloved wife had left behind some ten years ago. Since his father’s stroke two years earlier, there wasn’t much else for him to do, according to Lucas Kingston Sr.
Kingston and Kingston. Father and son. Florida’s top builder of one-of-a-kind houses. They’d made their mark, all right, with the construction of Palm Royal. They’d made enough money that neither of them would ever have to work again, but building was in their blood. At least it was in young Luke’s blood these days. He loved looking at a blueprint, loved spilling coffee over it, loved pounding nails. He was hands-on, just like his father was. Luke Sr. still offered advice, still listened, still peered at blueprints, but then he went back to the kitchen to peruse his wife’s collection of cookbooks.
Today lunch was going to be vegetable soup and ham sandwiches. When he got up at five this morning, the ham was already in the oven, proof that his father had had another sleepless night. By the time he finished his homemade bagel, which left a lot to be desired, and his coffee, the vegetable soup was simmering in a giant pot on the back burner of the Wolf range.
He was early for lunch. And he was antsy. All he could think about since leaving the Brighton house was how green Lucy Brighton’s eyes were. He shivered at the pain he knew she must be enduring from her burned foot. Sassy, too. He liked sassy. His mother, God rest her soul, had been the feistiest woman he’d ever met, not that he’d met a lot of women, but he relied on his dad’s opinion of his mother. For sure, there was no one walking the planet like his mother. That much he knew as well as he knew his own name. His father knew it, too, another reason why this kitchen was a shrine to her, the place where she had spent all her time. He had to correct that thought. He and his father had built this house just for her. And it was a work of art, especially the kitchen. And they had not duplicated any areas of this particular house in the buildings they put up in Palm Royal.
Shortly before his mother’s death, he had, with the help of his father, built his own house one street away. He hadn’t even moved into it when his mother passed away in her sleep. And then he couldn’t bring himself to leave his father, who was so lost without his wife that it made Luke Jr. cry. He remembered those early years so vividly; he still cringed when he thought of them. It was touch and go there for over a year. His father lost interest in everything and just sat for hours, staring at nothing. He took all the pills the doctors gave him for depression, but nothing worked.
Then one day, by pure accident, Adel Longhurst stopped by with an angel food cake, her specialty. His father forced himself to come out of his cocoon of misery to talk about his wife’s cooking, which was also a passion of Adel’s. Before he knew it, his father was cooking and baking and going through every cookbook his mother had owned. He made himself eat everything, and his comment to his father when he was done was, “You almost got it, Pop, but Mom’s was better.” Which pleased his father to no end. He constantly teased his father that he should look into getting a cooking show and give Paula Deen a run for her money. That also pleased his father to no end, and he said that one of these days he just might do that.
Luke looked across the kitchen at his father, who was clad in his red chef’s apron that said he was the NUMBER ONE CHEF, a gift on Father’s Day two years ago. He saw that the table was set for four. Guests?
Luke Sr. was a tall man with snow-white hair, eyes the color of washed-out denim, and a winsome smile. He had big hands, carpenter’s hands, just like his son. He stayed in shape by walking five miles in the morning, usually when it was still dark. Then he’d do another five miles before dinner. It didn’t matter if it was raining or the sun was boiling hot. The residents of Palm Royal said you could set your watch by Luke Sr. The bottom line to all the residents of Palm Royal was that Luke Sr. was a good man, just like his son, Luke Jr.
“So, Pop, who’s coming for lunch?” Luke asked as he hung the baseball cap he was never without on a Peg-Board next to the kitchen door.
“Bud and Adel. She’s torturing me again with that angel food cake she’s known for. She said in a million years, I could never duplicate it. I hate fighting with her, because I can never win.”
Young Luke laughed as he moved off to the laundry room to wash his hands. He sniffed appreciatively. He did love the smell of freshly baked bread. Fresh bread for the ham sandwiches. “Eat your heart out, Paula Deen,” he muttered.
“So, son, how did it go over at the Brightons’?” his father asked. Luke grinned at the expression on his father’s face. Anytime the Brighton name came up, his father looked like he had bitten into a sour lemon.
“Well, Miss Brighton looked to me to be in pain with her foot. She has a huge bandage on it. Guess she was burned pretty good. She looked tired, and she was cranky. I think I was the last person on earth she wanted to deal with. I probably should have waited a few more days before I paid a call. I offered up my condolences on the loss of her parents, explained why I wasn’t at the service. She didn’t seem to care.
“Oh, and did I tell you she can read minds? Jesus, Pop, she knew every damn thing I was thinking. She’s sassy, that one. And, Pop, she has the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. Greener than the grass at the golf course. Like emerald green, and those eyes were shooting sparks at me. She didn’t like me, but she invited me in to look at the house. Made my blood run cold. It was like a mausoleum. She didn’t know anything about the covenants or the bylaws, none of that.”
“I can see how much you liked her,” Luke Sr. drawled.
“Actually, Pop, I did like her. I’d like to see her in a more . . . social setting. Reminded me a bit of Mom. Sharp-eyed, sharp tongue, a no-bullshit kind of gal.”
“Guess she didn’t like you all that much, eh?”
“I think you got that right. She just wanted me out of there, and to be honest, I couldn’t wait to leave. That damn house gave me the creeps. She said she might want to take a wrecking ball to it or burn it down. She couldn’t decide. I think that means she doesn’t like the house, either. She lives in New Jersey.”
Further discussion came to a halt when Adel and Buddy Longhurst burst into the kitchen like a whirlwind.
“Aha, vegetable soup, fresh bread, and baked ham. And my prizewinning angel food cake for dessert. If
you don’t mind, I’d like to take some to go if you can spare it. For Lucy Brighton. I hated leaving her alone, but her friend’s flight was delayed two hours, so that’s why we’re here. Otherwise, I would have had to cancel.”
“How did your physicals go?” Luke Sr. asked.
“Good. Let’s eat,” Buddy said. “This one,” he said, pointing to his wife, “needs to get back to the Brighton house so she can fuss and fret over that young lady, who, by the way, is as sweet as honey.”
Young Luke rolled his eyes. He recounted his visit with Lucy Brighton.
“Fire and water,” Luke Sr. said as he ladled out soup into colorful soup bowls.
Conversation was sprightly as Adel and Buddy passed remarks on Luke Sr.’s culinary efforts. For the most part, young Luke inhaled his food, savoring each mouthful. Adel summed it all up the way she always did, and the reason her response was always the same was so Luke Sr. wouldn’t give up and revert to being a walking, talking vegetable with no interest in life.
“You almost got it this time, Luke, but something is missing.” She looked at young Luke, who pretended to think.
“Too much parsley?” asked Luke Sr.
“No, I know what it is,” Adel said. “You used water instead of stock. I keep telling you, Luke, you can’t start off a soup with water.”
Then they went at it again, but it was all friendly and full of laughter.
“Luke was just telling me about the Brighton house. He said it gave him the creeps,” Luke Sr. said.
“I’d have to second that,” Adel and Bud said at the same time.
“There’s just something about that place that . . . I can’t explain it,” Bud said. “Reminds me of a movie set or something, where the actors are standing in the wings, waiting to make an appearance. Adel and I talked about it ad nauseam, and we both agreed. Lucy is not comfortable there. That much is obvious. That house is going to go up for sale the minute she returns to New Jersey. That young lady has everything pretty much under control. Like I said, she’s sweet as honey.”
Young Luke snorted. “I guess you got to see the best side of her. What I saw was a buzzing bee, a hornet, if you will. Nice smile, and those green eyes of hers are like emeralds.”
“And he noticed all of that while she was being ugly to him,” Luke Sr. volunteered as he cut into Adel’s angel food cake. He ate a snippet, then said, “I think you put too much vanilla in it this time, Adel.”
“Ya think, Luke?” Adel said, rolling her eyes for everyone’s benefit, especially Luke Sr.’s.
“I never liked the Brightons. They were a strange couple. Never once in the entire year that I dealt with them did they mention that they had a daughter. They never talked about anything. All they wanted to discuss was square footage, flooring, and completion dates. They paid in full at the closing, signed their names, and off they went. I’ve never had a client pay that kind of money in cash. By cash I mean a cashier’s check. An hour after they moved in, they had new locks installed on all the doors. A day after that, a furniture truck arrived with enough furniture to fill the whole house. The day after that, the Brightons left town. They were the most polite, unfriendly couple I’ve ever met. There was something very strange about them from day one. Artie, the mailman, told me no mail ever came to the house. Everyone gets mail, even if it’s junk mail. He said they didn’t even get occupant mail. Tell me that isn’t weird.”
“Guess they were private people,” Luke Jr. said.
“There’s private. Then there’s private,” Adel said as she got up to help clear the table.
“There was that episode on the golf course,” Bud said. “You tell me what kind of doctor would refuse to help someone who had just collapsed and ended up dying.”
“He called 9-1-1,” Luke Sr. said.
“Well, all I can say is, it’s a good thing they skedaddled the next day, because I think this enclave was about to form a lynching party. Sorry, Luke, but Bud and I have to leave now to pick up Lucy’s friend at the airport. Lunch was great, as always. My turn next time. Try the stock next time you make soup. I’ll call you,” Adel said breezily as she shooed her husband out the door ahead of her. She turned back to young Luke and winked. “You know, Luke, that young lady is one of a kind. I can actually close my eyes and visualize you two together.” Adel laughed out loud when Luke Jr.’s face turned bright pink. “See ya.”
Luke Sr. looked at his son. “Adel is never wrong. You know that, right?”
Luke Jr., his face still flushed, nodded.
“So how is that going to happen if she lives in New Jersey and you live here?”
“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know, Pop. Look, I gotta go now. I have some stuff I have to do in the office, and I want to get a copy of everything for Miss Brighton so she knows the rules and doesn’t do something she’ll regret later that will cost all of us some money. I’ll drop everything off in the morning, before I head down to Miami. Why don’t you come with me, Pop? I hate leaving you here by yourself.”
“Stop worrying about me, son. I’ll be fine. By the way, your sister called me this morning and invited us to spend the holidays with her and the kids. I said I wanted to talk to you first. I don’t want to leave you alone during the holidays if you don’t want to go to Seattle. I know you hate it there. You and I always put the tree up together, and I make that big turkey for Thanksgiving. Marie has been pestering me for over a month now, and today she got the kids to weigh in before they left for school.”
“You should go, Pop. In fact, I insist. I was thinking maybe I’d head up to New York this year. I haven’t seen Jack and Dave in over a year.”
“Your best friends for forever. You should go, Luke. Friends are like gold. You need to treasure them. You like to ski, so let’s both decide to go our separate ways this year.”
“That sounds kind of . . . strange coming from you, Pop.”
“It does, doesn’t it? I want to see my grandkids. Haven’t seen them since last year. I don’t want to miss out on these growing years. Before you know it, they’ll be in high school and won’t want to spend time with their old grandpa.”
“Then it’s settled.”
“It’s settled,” Luke Sr. said.
Luke Jr. slapped on his baseball cap and walked out into the Florida sunshine. He started to whistle. Inside the house, standing at the kitchen window, Luke Sr. smiled. Then he crossed his fingers that Adel Longhurst was right. It was time for Luke to settle down. He just hoped that Lucy Brighton was the one to make that happen for his son.
Angie Powell bolted from the Longhurst car and flew up the walkway to the front door of the Brighton house. She opened the door, screeching Lucy’s name at the top of her lungs.
“No, no, don’t get up!” She flopped down on the sofa and almost bounced a foot high as she threw her arms around Lucy’s shoulders. She smacked her with kisses, then reared back to look at her. “You look good, friend. The foot looks like a sorry mess, that’s for sure. Ooooh, I hate this house already. Bad vibes. Really bad vibes. When are we leaving? Isn’t this the same sofa you have in the house in Jersey?” She finally ran out of breath and just stared at her friend. “And then, to top it off, you get hit by lightning and lose your memory. How cool is that? Or hot, as the case might be. Wow! This is really strange. I’m right. This is the same damn house as the one in New Jersey, just different colors. Does your foot hurt, burn, or sting, what? I bet it itches!”
“We can leave now, if you’re up to driving after the trip here,” Lucy said. “The truck is packed up. We just have to decide.” Please, please, say yes, Angie.
Angie looked around, saw Adel and Buddy coming into the house. “Just give me time to go to the bathroom and to wash my hands, and we can leave.”
“Seriously?” Lucy gasped.
“Are you kidding me?” Angie said, looking around. “This place creeps me out. I’m your gal. Do what you have to do, and we can be on our way. Where’s the bathroom? Never mind,” Angie said, closing
her eyes. “I think I can find it.” And she did.
“Oh, dear, did I hear that right?” Adel asked as she set Angie’s small carry-on bag on the floor by the sofa. “You’re really going to leave right now?”
Lucy nodded. Tears puddled in her eyes as she realized she could read Adel’s mind and the thoughts coursing through that very same mind.
“I understand. I really do. Buddy and I are sorry to see you leave, and we promise to head north to see you as soon as we can. But right now I’m going to dress your foot. I want to show Angie how to do it so she can do it for you. She’s a sweetheart. It’s easy to see why you two are such fast friends. How’s the foot feeling?”
“It’s starting to itch, but it doesn’t feel right.”
“You know, I’m from the old school of medicine, so if it’s okay with you, I’d like to try my way. I think I can guarantee that your foot will feel almost normal by this time tomorrow if you agree.”
“What?”
“Honey. It’s the best thing in the world for burns, especially serious burns. I had Buddy stop at the farmers’ market, and I bought some really good honey with the honeycomb still in it. Shall we give it a try?”
“Absolutely.”
Angie returned and was instructed to watch, which she did. When Lucy’s foot was rebandaged, she said, “Okay, I can do that. Four times a day, you said.”
“Yes, and by tomorrow that foot should really be on the mend. I’ll take all the trash out to the can. What else do you want us to do, honey, before you leave?”
Lucy smiled and shook her head. “Just give me a big hug, and we’ll be on our way. If we go out through the garage, we won’t have to worry about locking up. I don’t know how to thank you two. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“That’s what neighbors and friends are for, to help one another,” Buddy said.
Forget Me Not Page 8
