“Yes, I did.”
“And now I’m returning the favor,” Addie cut in quickly, changing the subject to pattern shears before her own math scores were revealed.
AN HOUR LATER, Dev’s neck was stiff with tension. He was having flashbacks to kindergarten traumas. Tracing lines, wielding scissors, handling glue. His old adversaries.
“Not again.” Rosie sighed impatiently and set aside the extra set of shears Addie had loaned her. She pried the pattern paper and shears from Dev’s cramping fingers and tugged a wrinkled wad of paper from his jammed tool. “Addie told you—you’re only supposed to cut a fraction of an inch at a time.”
“Want to finish the rest for me?” He shoved his share of the pattern in her direction. Tess hadn’t been pleased to hear that Dev had signed up for Addie’s class, and she wasn’t sure it was the right place for a ten-year-old. But Rosie had insisted, promising to be on her best behavior. And Dev was counting on Rosie to set a good example for him.
“How much will you pay me?” Rosie asked.
“You’re paying her to sit through class with you?” Barb sighed her disapproval as she slathered glue on one of her pieces and stuck it to a square of glass. “How much do craft class assistants charge these days?”
“I’m not getting paid for this. Not yet, anyway,” Rosie added with a meaningful glance at Dev. “But he’s paying me fifty dollars to walk his grandmother’s dogs.”
Barb frowned. “Fifty dollars is a lot of money for a child.”
“I’m not a child.” Rosie looked as though she wanted to climb across the table and give Barb’s unnaturally red hair a hard yank. “I’m just younger than you. Lots younger. At least forty or fifty years younger.”
“Rosie.” Addie pulled the jar of rubber cement from Dev’s box of supplies. “Let’s make sure you glue that sun piece to the right spot on that special orange glass you and Dev picked out.”
His pretty teacher cast a sympathetic look his way with those big, beautiful eyes. He’d seen that look before, when he’d discovered he’d turned his carbon paper upside down and traced his entire pattern onto the wrong place. He’d thought this class would give him a chance to spend more time with Addie. He hadn’t realized it would also give her a chance to watch him make a fool of himself.
And he couldn’t quit, as much as he wanted to. He couldn’t even make an escape, not now that so many people had wrapped him up in so many expectations. Rosie was looking forward to coming back to Addie’s next three lessons. Tess was counting on him to keep Rosie occupied in the afternoons. Geneva was relying on him to keep watch over Chandler House and feed her dogs. He had Jack and Charlie’s wedding to attend and a poker game to host.
And Addie—what did she expect from him?
Today’s lust for his teacher was complicated by his guilt over last night’s search through his father’s papers. He’d found several cancelled checks made out to “Cash”—checks for large amounts, in Lena’s handwriting and cashed by Jonah. Checks that didn’t seem to match any business expenses or charitable donations.
Checks that seemed to cast a shadow of suspicion over Lena’s innocence. But there was no proof, no answers in the paperwork.
Geneva had claimed that Jonah had made several foolish investments. And Dev had been a fool to think he’d find something that had eluded the accountants and investigators who’d combed through the family’s business records searching for a clue to the missing funds.
He’d returned to Carnelian Cove determined to find the answers to his own questions about his father’s affairs. Now he wanted those answers more than ever—to give Addie and her mother the closure they deserved.
He looked up to see Addie over Teddi’s shoulder, helping her position her pattern pieces on her glass squares. One of the funky clips in Addie’s hair shifted to the side, and a perfect blond spiral slipped over her shoulder to brush along her breast.
Dev lowered his gaze to his shears and concentrated on how much he hated cutting out these stupid pattern pieces instead of how much he wanted to pull Addie into his lap, and kiss her senseless. She’d taste of that soda she was sipping, cool and tart and effervescent.
He waited for his breathing to slow to normal and for his heart to stop pounding against his ribs. Then he sighed inwardly and picked up the next pattern piece. One class hour down, fifteen more to go.
ADDIE SPRAWLED ON the petite, blue-checked sofa in Tess’s living room on Thursday night, a plump pillow scrunched beneath her head and one leg dangling over the stylishly curved arm. Her second stained-glass class had exhausted her more than the first—probably because Dev’s work had been a bigger disaster. She hadn’t expected him to be so clumsy with his hands, since he’d been a star athlete in high school. Of course, sprinting down a basketball court on a fast break or smashing a serve across a tennis net required different skills than grinding small pieces of glass that had been awkwardly cut.
She glanced at her watch, expecting Tess’s cell phone to ring at any moment. Maudie had dragged Charlie down to the city the day before to buy the wedding dress, and Charlie had promised to report in person when she and her mother returned this evening.
As soon as they got a good look at Charlie’s dress, Addie and Tess would choose their own outfits. Addie didn’t care what she wore, and since fashion mattered far more to Tess, Addie was willing to leave the shopping up to her. Instead, Addie flipped through the pages of a bridal magazine, scanning the pages for white-flower bouquets. “I still can’t get over the fact that Charlie decided to have an all-white wedding,” she said.
“At first I thought she was just chickening out on the color selection.” Tess handed Addie a glass of iced tea and then sank into a deep chair across the room, careful not to spill her own beverage. “But now I think it’s a brilliant idea.”
“It sure simplified the wedding shower decorations.” Addie straightened, took a sip of tea and then set the glass on a nearby table before collapsing back against the pillows. “Too bad we have to get up at the crack of dawn on Saturday to put them up.”
“You’re the one with the shop that never closes.”
“Closed shop, no sales.” Addie yawned and dropped the magazine to the floor. She shifted to her side, snuggling into the downy sofa cushions. “Not that many sales anyway, but at least I know I’ve tried my darnedest.”
“How are the classes going?”
“Doesn’t Rosie fill you in?”
“Only to tell me what a total loser my cousin is.”
“He’s not that bad, not really.” When Tess gave a disbelieving snort, Addie grinned. “All right,” she admitted, “he’s awful. I never imagined one person could be so bad with every step of the process.”
Tess leaned over one arm of her chair to peer around the corner, down the hallway leading to her room, where she’d left Quinn’s daughter with a huge bowl of popcorn and a DVD. And then she turned back to face Addie. “My little spy also says he spends most of his time watching you.”
Addie picked up the magazine and made a show of studying the cover. “They all do. I’m the teacher. I demonstrate things.”
“Things, hmm?” Tess set her glass on the fussy French table beside her chair. “Your face is getting red.”
“I hate it when that happens.” Addie tossed the magazine back on the floor. “And I’m really too tired for one of your interrogations tonight.”
“That’s why I didn’t bring out the thumbscrews.” Tess grabbed one of her bare feet and tucked it beneath her, settling into her quarter-lotus gossip position. “Come on, Addie. Spill.”
“There’s nothing to report. Nothing has happened. Maybe a couple of interested looks, but—ugh.” Addie grabbed the pillow from beneath her head and smashed it against her face for a few mortified seconds. “That sounds so high school,” she mumbled against the scratchy wool.
“I didn’t catch that last part. And stop molesting that chicken.”
Addie pulled the pillow from her face and smo
othed a hand over the needlepoint rooster posing on the sham. “I said I feel like I’m back in high school.”
“Because we’re gossiping about boys on a weeknight?” Tess shrugged and reached for her tea. “I’m sitting here waiting for an old friend to show up with her wedding dress. I’m in a sentimental mood.”
“Maybe that’s all I’m feeling, too. Sentimental.” Addie rolled to her back with a sigh. “Remember that awful board game we used to play when we were kids? That one where you could send your opponent back to square one? Just when I think I’m making some progress with my social life, Dev shows up and knocks me out of play.”
“I take it you’re referring to Mick.” Tess shook her head. “Too bad. Way too bad. Nice guy.”
“Extremely nice guy.” Addie flung an arm over her eyes. “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I appreciate the nice guys I’ve met and forget about the one who has trouble deciding whether he wants to risk something as simple as a friendship?”
“I might have had something to do with that. And I feel awful about it,” Tess added in a rush when Addie stared at her. “I warned Dev to leave you alone.”
“You did? Oh.” Addie’s lips turned up in the beginning of a smile.
“What do you mean, ‘oh’?”
“When did you give him this warning?” Addie asked. “Before or after he signed up for my class?”
Tess settled back in her chair with a sigh. “Before. An entire week before.”
“Before Geneva’s party?”
Tess nodded.
“And yet he sought me out for a talk that day. And he signed himself up for four afternoons at my shop. Not to mention coming in on two other occasions to buy things for Rosie.” Addie’s smile turned wicked. “Guess you’re not as scary as you think.”
“I don’t know what to think.” Tess chewed on the side of her thumb, an old, nervous habit. “I know all this time you’re spending with Dev is making you happy. But remember—he’s got a lousy track record.”
Tess’s doorbell chimed.
“It’s Charlie!” Rosie raced through the room. “I’ll get it.”
“Let’s drop the talk about Dev.” Addie swung her legs off the sofa and stood. “This is Charlie’s night.”
“I survived,” Charlie announced as Rosie dragged her into the room. She draped a large garment bag over the back of Tess’s ladder-back chair. “Just barely. Mom wanted to stay another night and shop for shoes and lingerie—lingerie, ugh!—but we’ve got that big pour out near Fern River tomorrow, and we’re short one driver.”
“Got to keep your priorities straight.” Addie ran a hand down the bag, savoring the anticipation.
Charlie and Rosie both grabbed for the zipper.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Tess scrambled from her chair to snatch the bag from their prying fingers. “In my room. Put this on and then come out here to show us.”
“Yes, please,” Addie said, cutting off Charlie’s protest before she could make it. “We want to see it on you.”
“I’ll help.” Rosie stood and tugged Charlie by the hand. “Come on.”
Addie carried her tea glass into Tess’s kitchen and rinsed it in the sink. She was tiring of all the concern and advice, tiring of the entire situation. She wanted to enjoy her friends’ wedding plans without suspecting Charlie and Tess felt guilty because they each had something that Addie didn’t: a man.
She made her way back to Tess’s front room as Rosie peered around the corner. “Are you ready?” Rosie asked.
“Ready,” Tess told her. She grabbed Addie’s hand and gave it a hard squeeze as Charlie made her entrance. “Omigod. Omigod. Charlie—is that you?”
Charlie laughed and spun in a subtle cloud of soft-white satin and chiffon, as delicate and airy as a dandelion puff. “You’ve seen me in a dress before.”
“I’ve never seen you looking like a bride before.” Tess dropped Addie’s hand and clasped both of her own beneath her chin. “I love it. I absolutely adore it. Let me see the back again.”
While Tess crooned over Charlie’s dress, Addie stood apart, enjoying the scene, giddy with excitement. She was incredibly thrilled for her friends and delighted to share in moments like these. There may have been no search for a white dress or plans for cakes and flowers in her immediate future, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t reach out and seize a big helping of her own happiness.
And she swore to herself, as she hugged her friends, that she would find a way to do precisely that.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TWO POKER GAMES IN as many weeks didn’t exactly qualify as a tradition, Dev told himself as he shuffled and dealt the first hand Friday night. But the fact that Bud had just mentioned he’d cleared a Friday night date two weeks from this one sure felt like a dangerous pattern.
“Can’t make it.” Jack grinned. “Wedding rehearsal. With all the trimmings.”
“Bachelor-party poker could work.” Rusty chewed his wad of gum for a while and then signaled for another card. “Start later. Play longer. Drink more. Unless you’ve got other plans.”
Jack shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint y’all, but my only plans for that evening include dinner with the honored guests and a quiet drink with my best man.”
“Charlie’s brother, right?” Dev raised the betting another nickel. “I heard he’d moved to the city.”
Jack nodded. “Got into some fancy art school, and Tess fixed him up with a job at her mother’s gallery. He’s happy as a pig in slop.”
Rusty took the pot, and Jack dealt the next hand.
Quinn pulled his chirping cell phone from his jeans pocket and checked the number. “Hey there,” he said with a gooey smile that meant Tess was on the other end. “What’s up?”
The others scooped up their cards to examine their hands while Quinn listened patiently. “Tess wants to know if there’s a ladder in the house,” he said after a few seconds.
“At Chandler House?” Dev shrugged. How the hell would he know? “Why does she want a ladder?”
Quinn offered him the phone. “You want to ask her that?”
Dev lifted his hands in self-defense. “Never mind.”
“Tell her I’ll drop one off in the morning,” Jack said, “but it’ll have to be early. I want to get to the office by six.”
“You can drop it off on the front porch.” Dev reached beneath his T-shirt to scrub a hand over his belly. “No way in hell I’m going to be up and around at that time of day.”
“Tess says six’ll be fine,” Quinn said with a grin, “since that’s when she and Addie are planning on getting here to decorate.”
“She’s kidding, right?” Dev shoved away from the table and stalked to the kitchen for another beer.
“Tess says you can carry the ladder in when you meet her to open up the house.”
“Hell.” Dev lowered the bottle before he could take the first sip. “Why does she have to get started so early?”
Quinn offered him the phone again, and Dev waved it away.
“Women.” Rusty slumped in his chair, his jaw working furiously on his gum. “Why can’t they figure out a way to have a wedding shower without messing things up for us?”
“Us?” Dev scowled over his bottle. “I don’t see you setting your alarm for the crack of dawn on a Saturday. Sorry,” he quickly added when the three construction workers stared at him.
“Guess I’ll be the only one sleeping in tomorrow.” Bud spread his cards on the table and scooped the chips toward his pile. “Winner all around.”
“Except you’ve got a wife telling you what to do with your weekend,” Rusty pointed out.
“You’ve got Quinn telling you what to do with most of yours,” Bud shot back.
“I don’t mind waking up to the alarm to find a beautiful woman beside me,” Jack said. “Bet Quinn here feels the same.”
Quinn slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Haven’t had enough of those experiences with the beautiful woman in my life to know for sure.
Want to take Rosie for the night so I can test your theory?”
“Kids.” Rusty leaned his bony elbows on the table. “They sure can mess things up for a guy.”
“They’re okay.” Dev strolled back to the table and took his seat. “Rosie’s definitely in the okay category.”
“You volunteering for an overnight, Uncle Dev?” asked Quinn.
“I might consider it, later in the summer.” He thought it might be fun to rent some DVDs, pop some corn. Tess would owe him, big-time—that was worth one evening with Rosie.
Quinn’s phone chirped again. Rusty threw down his cards with a curse. “Bet the guys who play in the big game across town don’t put up with this crap.”
The movement around the table stilled, and Bud glared at Rusty. Quinn glanced at them both with a frown, stood and walked from the room, his phone to his ear.
“What big game?” Jack asked.
“High stakes.” Rusty shrugged—a jerky, dismissive movement—and picked up his cards to study them as if they held the answers to all life’s questions. “Don’t know much else.”
“Poker?” Dev asked. He waited for Bud to meet his gaze. “Here in the Cove?”
“A rumor. That’s all it is. If there had been a game like that, it ended a long time ago.” Bud threw down his cards and headed toward the kitchen. “Anyone else want a beer?”
Dev won most of the pots that evening, his luck as good as ever. Luck had always been on his side, it seemed. Unlike his father, who had been unlucky in love and unlucky with his business investments.
Maybe his father had been unlucky at play, too. Maybe there was another explanation for the curious holes in the Chandler profits, for the sizable checks Addie’s mother had written out to “Cash” and handed over to Jonah. For the missing sum of sixty-two thousand dollars that had nearly landed her in jail for embezzlement.
Gambling debts.
THE SHANTYMAN HADN’T CHANGED much over the years. Dev recognized the bass beat of an old tune thumping from the same domed jukebox in the corner. The same black-framed photos on the dark plank walls, the old billiard table angled across one corner, the familiar tacky feel of the floor beneath his feet. Looked like the typical Sunday-night patrons at the bar—a couple of off-season fishermen hunched over their brews and staring glassy-eyed at a closed-captioned baseball game rerun.
A Small-Town Reunion Page 11
