by Angie West
Belatedly, Kate noticed that he’d put on a wig before stepping outside. An ash blond bob today, instead of yesterday’s platinum vixen.
Her mouth tightened, and she fought a strong urge to cringe. Seeing him like this made her question her judgment—to say nothing of her sanity—all over again. What was with her? Whenever she pictured Jaxson, her mind brought forth images of pale green eyes and short, dark brown hair. But that wasn’t him at all. Kate turned around and threw an assessing glance in her neighbor’s direction. No, Jaxson wasn’t some green-eyed Justin Chambers; he was Florence Nightingale and Ru-Paul rolled into one.
“Uh, is everything okay over there?” he asked, staring hard at the second-story of her house.
Kate frowned and automatically glanced up, but of course she couldn’t see anything except the worn timbers of her front porch ceiling, that and miles of chipped paint that may or may not have been blue at some point.
“Fine?” she replied, the word coming out like a question as she raised a brow at Jaxson.
“You’re sure?” His gaze switched from the second floor of her house to her face, which he seemed to study intently.
“Yes,” she replied, stubbornly refusing to explain her earlier actions. Nothing had happened, other than a stray cat sneaking into her house and knocking stuff over. Besides, she’d already made a fool of herself in front of her new neighbor, and once was more than enough. “My, uh,” she glanced down at the tabby that was now winding itself around her ankles, “cat and I were just about to go to the hardware store.”
Once again, Jaxson’s gaze flicked up before it settled on Kate’s face. He opened his mouth, only to close it a second later without having said anything further.
This time, Kate leaned over the railing and craned her neck to peer up toward the roof, and, not seeing anything amiss, she shrugged, bent down, and cautiously scooped up the cat, then headed back toward the house.
“If you have any problems…”
She paused long enough to toss a look at him over one shoulder. “Yeah, I remember; don’t worry, I have no intention of inconveniencing you again with my problems.” Still cradling the cat, she walked back into her own house without another backward glance. She used her foot to shut the door, not bothering to latch it since they’d be leaving again in a minute.
“Yes, you’re going to have to go, too, cat,” she told the animal, absently stroking its short, rough fur as she entered the front sitting room. “Sorry, but you can’t stay.”
The cat meowed and its tail swished against Kate’s arm. She refused to look into its eyes.
“Forget it, buddy. Right now, the last thing I need is someone else depending on me. As you can see, I’m not doing so hot at the moment.” Kate exhaled. “Besides, I work all day, and Lilly will be at school.” She paused. “Although, I don’t suppose you require a whole lot of upkeep.”
She did look at the cat then, wincing over the pale scar that cut a path through the animal’s fur, only a few inches from its left eye. The old wound dipped down the side of its face, ending somewhere beneath its chin. “I can’t keep you,” she repeated. The cat settled itself securely in her arms and rested its head on Kate’s forearm.
She sighed. “I just became a cat owner, didn’t I?”
Glass crunched beneath her shoes and she stared down at the mess on the floor of the sitting room. Muted light filtered in through the sheers that hung on the wide, dingy windows and reflected little prisms of light from the shards of glass that littered the floor. Glass, glitter, and fake snow was strewn over most of the intricate but threadbare Fleur-de-lis patterned gold-and-burgundy rug. A glance at the black marble fireplace mantel showed two empty spaces.
“You’re here for less than a day and you’ve already broken two snow globes.” She tsked and bent for a closer look. “And you’ve nicked the floor.” She frowned at the fresh, chipped groove in the wood floor. Tightening one arm around the cat, she reached with the other and gingerly picked up the base that had belonged to the larger of the two globes. The weight of the object was all but insubstantial in her hand.
“How did you manage to gouge the floor like this?” she mused.
A clock chimed six times, the gong reverberating throughout the house. The cat stiffened in her arms, and Kate made little shushing noises in an absent attempt to comfort the creature.
“Come on, we’ll hit the hardware store for some cleaning supplies…and a new lock,” she said, snagging her purse from the floor of the entryway where she’d dropped it earlier. She got as far as the driveway before she stopped and groaned. Would anything in Crystal Cove except the hospital and maybe a diner or two be open this early? Probably not. But there was a Walmart about twenty minutes down the highway; she remembered seeing it on the drive in yesterday. Weren’t those usually twenty-four hour?
Depositing the cat into the passenger seat of the car, she plopped down into the driver’s seat, tapped a quick text message to Lilly, cranked the ignition, rolled her window down to dispel some of the humidity, shifted gears, and backed out onto the street. The whisper of the wind as it moved gently through the large, towering old trees and merged with the swish of tires on damp pavement was the only sound to be heard as Kate made her way onto the main road and left the silent neighborhood behind.
Chapter Nine
Shadow Boxing
“And when you needed me, I came through…!”
Kate belted out the familiar tune as the last of the broken glass was propelled up the hose of her brand new vacuum sweeper. The light began to flicker, and she glanced at the chandelier overhead. One of the fixture’s five bulbs dimmed again and she frowned. Light bulbs. That’s what she’d forgotten. Oh, well, she had the rest of the night off; picking up a box of bulbs later at the grocery store wouldn’t be a big deal.
Kate gave the floor a final lingering appraisal before switching off the vacuum.
“Through the sleepless nights,” she sang alone with the radio, her voice trailing off when static crackled over the air. After a few moments, she gave up and switched the radio off.
The hose and attachments detached easily and made a satisfying, job-well-done sort of snap as she replaced the parts in their individual compartments. She unplugged the cord from the wall and wound it, wrist over elbow, until she’d created a long, loose loop to hang haphazardly over the vacuum’s handle. Years of Olivia’s nagging made her bend down and grudgingly wrap the cord around its designated clips.
Kate nodded to her new cat, who was perched on the back of the sofa, grabbed the yellow plastic sack containing the new lock kit and a screwdriver set, and headed toward the entrance hall, stopping only long enough to stow the sweeper in the small utility closet off the kitchen.
She passed the thermostat on her way out, and paused to punch the buttons that would kick the AC down a couple of notches.
Her flip-flops slapped the floor, and the bag swung against her bare thigh as she shoved at the screen door, set the catch at the top of the door to hold it open, and stepped into the warm, brilliant mid-morning sunshine.
Kate swiftly set the bag onto the wide, flat top rail, dug into it, and began to lay her purchases out in a neat row. A series of beeps sounded and she fished her phone from the pocket of her shorts, tapped the icon on the main screen. Three text messages; two were from Lindsey, the first inquiring about her first night on the job; the second was a picture of a grinning skeleton.
Kate snorted. “Funny, Lindsey.” The most recent message was from Lilly and said simply, “Call me.”
“15 min ☺” she typed back, then slid the phone back into the shallow denim pocket of her cutoffs. From her other pocket, she took a pocket knife and carefully cut across the top of the thick plastic that encased the screwdriver set.
She selected the neon-green-handled Phillips and made quick work of swapping out the old brass single-key lock knob for a new pewter finish deadbolt. As she worked, her eyes kept straying to the house next door. Jaxson’s car was in
the driveway, along with a late model Buick that looked as if it had seen better days.
Once, Kate thought she saw a curtain twitch to the side, but didn’t see anyone looking out at her, and the fabric quickly fell back into place, so she figured somebody must have brushed up against the window. What reason would Jaxson have to be concerned with what she was doing? Frowning, she crouched and raised the tool to secure the final screw.
What was wrong with her that she was drawn to what he was doing? No, that wasn’t fair, she decided, lining up the screw with the pre-drilled hole in the knob plate.
She wasn’t drawn to him. Hadn’t he already proven himself to be a foul-tempered jerk? That and strange. Kate forced her gaze away from the now undisturbed window and refocused her attention on the task at hand. No doubt about it, Jaxson Green was an odd duck. Kissing him had been a mistake, she insisted, giving the screw one final twist before rising to her feet.
Her mind drifted back to last night and what amounted to the wildest—okay, the only wild thing—she’d ever done in her life. While Lindsey and many of the other girls in her sophomore class were at dances and parties, Kate was working after school to supplement the disability checks that barely paid the rent, let alone put food on the table. After graduation, when most of the people she knew were cutting loose, making plans and traveling, rooming in dormitories, she was raising a grieving fifteen-year-old who was angry at the world.
If it hadn’t been for Lindsey opting to do the first two years of her business degree at a local university, Kate wasn’t sure she and Lilly would have made it through that first year. Lindsey’s constant presence in their household had been a godsend.
Her friend’s daily habit of dropping in to “hang out” with Lilly every day from thee to five in the afternoon until Kate got home from classes and work, rain or shine, had helped give a young girl a home base…and had went a long way toward rebuilding a foundation that had been badly shaken. Lindsey’s watchful eye had also probably kept Lilly out of heaven-only-knew what trouble.
Kate turned, bags in hand, and stumbled over her new pet. The bag with the screwdrivers landed on the top of her foot. She managed to keep hold of the much lighter bag that contained the trash—of course—and, with a muffled curse, bent down to rub at her toes. Blood welled from a small cut at the base of her big toe. Kate lifted the bag and noticed a good-sized tear at the bottom, sharp plastic packaging from the screwdriver set sticking out like a mini fin.
“Son of a…” she muttered. A sudden rustling sound brought her head up. “What…” she trailed off, reaching out to grip the edge of the door and haul herself to her feet. What was that?
The noise sounded again, louder this time, and closer. Mice, maybe? The cat hissed, but didn’t relinquish his position of relative safely behind Kate’s legs.
She laughed nervously. “Hey, if that’s a mouse, aren’t you supposed to go check it out?” She smiled down at the cat, then glanced back to the open doorway in time to catch a ripple of movement at the bottom of the white linen cloth draped over the wooden secretary in the entryway. Remembering the chewed cable cord Olivia had found the other day, Kate let out the breath she’d been holding, gathered her bags, straightened, and walked into the house.
Dropping to one knee, she reached with her free hand and swept the cloth aside to reveal…nothing.
She swiftly scanned the area around the heavy piece of furniture, frowning when nothing stirred in the entryway. In fact, the whole house seemed motionless, eerie. The silence was an oppressive, vivid…thing. Beside her, the cat bristled.
Kate climbed to her feet, an uneasy feeling pooling in her stomach. “It’s okay, those things are fast. We—we’ll get a service out, first thing,” she chattered, flipping the catch at the top of the front door and pulling it shut behind her.
A cold, drafty chill swept across her bare arms and she shivered, switched the air completely off, and meandered into the kitchen. Hunching her shoulders and folding her arms across her chest, she contemplated the open, airy space in silence.
This room, too, was much the same as she remembered it. Rows and rows of maple brown cabinets with bronze hardware. She advanced further into the room and opened the cabinet closest to the extra-wide single white porcelain sink; her fingers lingered over the cool metallic handle, worn smooth by years of use. Aunt Viola had loved this kitchen. She herself had loved this kitchen—once.
Kate went through the motions of brewing coffee with the only small appliance she and Lilly had brought down from Georgia, save for a three-speed blow dryer. Memories long past shadowed Kate’s motions as she took cream and sugar dishes from the fridge and set them on the long, wide counter alongside a clean blue ceramic mug.
Viola combining flour and sugar in an enormous chrome bowl. The scent of roast turkey filling the air while she perched precariously on a chair and accepted fat brown eggs from Lilly, who sat on the counter top and stirred a bowl of butter while Kate cracked eggs and Aunt Viola looked on approvingly…
Kate tore off a paper towel from the holder that someone—probably Olivia—had stocked the day before. She ran it under the faucet, squeezed out the excess water, and dabbed at the blood on her foot while she waited for the coffee to brew.
A shadow fell across the counter and Kate glanced up, startled out of her reverie of days long gone, by the thick dark clouds beginning to fill the sky. The kitchen took on a somber gray-green hue, and she pulled the shutters and latched them before carrying her coffee to the sitting room.
The first drops of rain began to ping the windows as she pulled the curtains against the gloom and switched on the pair of Tiffany lamps that framed the couch. She took a sip of coffee, pulled out her cell, and punched in Lilly’s number.
Chapter Ten
For You
“Kate.”
“Hey, Lil, what’s up? I just changed the lock on the front door, and I even spiffed the place up a bit. It’s still pretty dreary and dusty around here, though.”
Lilly heard her sister’s voice, clear and bright—and mildly apologetic—through the line. She pulled the phone from her ear and stared at the screen; the full five bars were illuminated. Damn it. Just this once, why couldn’t the cell service in Florida be spotty? You’d think with the almost-daily rain showers and weekly storms, the cell towers would have a hard time maintaining the status quo, but no such luck. So far, call quality had been crystal clear during both of the awkward phone calls she’d had to make. Well, at least her own sister probably wouldn’t yell at her. Much.
“Lilly?”
She started at the muffled voice on the other end of the line and clapped the phone back to her ear in time to hear her Kate ask, “So, when you coming home?”
“Uh…” This was it, the moment of truth. She tucked her legs beneath her on the overstuffed floral-print sofa, turned her face away from the concern in her cousin Alexandra’s eyes, gripped the phone tight and, for a moment, clung to Kate’s voice like she would have in the old days.
“Lilly? Are you okay?”
No. And right now, she didn’t feel like she’d ever be okay again. She took a deep breath and abruptly untucked her legs and scooted to the edge of the sofa. “I’m fine.” She gulped another mouthful of humid, peaches-and-brown sugar scented air and closed her eyes. “But I’m not coming back.”
Silence. And then, “What do you mean, you aren’t coming back? This is your home, too. I know I haven’t exactly been positive about the place, but it’s not that bad and—”
“Stop it, Kate!” She was pacing now. “Just—stop it, okay? Quit apologizing for everything.” Lilly’s eyes began to sting, and she blinked hard against the moisture she knew lurked not far behind. She heard her sister take a deep breath and she fought the urge to lash out and tell her to quit calling Aunt Viola’s house “home,” too. Home was back in Georgia. A rental house that, as of last week, had become “home” to another family on a budget.
The first teardrop slid from the corner of
her eye and she brushed it away with shaking fingers.
“Okay…so, what’s going on? You know what? Don’t worry about it. Are you still with Alexandra? I’m coming to get you, and we can sort everything out in a few minutes. You’re just having cold feet. I’ll be there in twenty, okay?” Kate prattled, a clear sign she was nervous.
“I—” Lilly broke off, swallowed and inhaled again, buoyed somewhat by the sugary warmth of her cousin’s house. She had to pull it together. Kate would never believe her like this. “No. Don’t drive to Alexandra’s,” she said, relieved that she didn’t sound near as shaky as she felt. “I’m not there anymore and, I’m not coming…home, Kate.” Her voice was under control now and she only stumbled a little bit over the word. “This morning, I…”
“You what…? What happened this morning?” Kate asked, the first stirring of dread beginning to thread through her voice.
Just do it. Say it. Blurt it out and be done with it. “I got married this morning.”
Lilly’s eyes strayed to the suspiciously bare finger on her left hand. Inside, she cringed as her sister’s ragged breathing filled her ear. God, she didn’t want to hurt her. Kate was the absolute last person who deserved to be wounded, but Lilly had been right; her fake marriage was the only way her sister would willingly let go without a fight.
“What—what did you just say?” Kate gasped, picking up steam and finding her voice along the way. “Are you telling me you got MARRIED? This morning? Are you serious? Is that what you’re telling me right now?” she demanded.
Lilly opened her mouth, but Kate rushed on without giving her a chance to respond.
“You haven’t even been dating anyone. How? How could you do this?” Kate sputtered. “Without even telling me?”
She stopped pacing and stared helplessly at a wide-eyed Alexandra, who was quick to pick up a large black-and-silver remote and switch off the television. A shadow filled the doorway, paused, and backtracked to stare into the living room. Lilly met her aunt Carrie’s curious gaze and swallowed, gripped the phone a little tighter.
