by Nina Pierce
She’d parked the Beemer down the street and watched Peter enter the stately house with its brick façade, tall columns and Christmas lights. Quaint. She hadn’t really needed to follow him home from his office. The White Pages on the Internet had provided her with his address. But there had been guilty satisfaction in tailing a man who didn’t know he was being watched.
Crystal had found out a lot about the couple in the last few days. The knowledge had made her want to be close to this man more than she expected. She had every intention of becoming a significant person in Peter’s life, whether his fiancée approved or not.
Filled with envy, she watched shadows play on the window blinds. She didn’t really need to stay until the lights went out stewing in her jealousy. Let Peter enjoy his time with the woman from the shop a little longer. The wheels were already turning to change his future.
Crystal had no doubt what she’d done tonight would mark the beginning of the end for Peter’s engagement. Shoving the car in gear, she pulled away from the curb. Time to move onto the next phase of her plan.
* * * *
Meghan stretched beneath the weight of Peter’s limbs. Though it had been several hours earlier that they’d showered and snuggled in for the night, she could still smell the musky odor of their lovemaking. How wonderful to feel so wanton and sexy. She’d loved every minute of being Peter’s submissive. Nuzzling her face in the silk of his hair, she kissed the top of his head. He’d done nothing but work to please her. Not that she’d like all of their sex to be that wild, but her fiancé had definitely opened up a new world of fantasies for her.
She shifted her foot, expecting to hit Mr. Jingles, but the cat wasn’t on the bed. They’d probably frightened him. Not that he wasn’t used to their sexual romps, but the cat usually burrowed in when they snuggled and fell asleep in each other’s arms. Odd that he wasn’t here now. Rolling away from Peter, Meghan slipped from his embrace, barely rustling the man from his slumber. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
Slipping into a robe, she went in search of the cat. The poor thing was probably curled up on the couch sulking about the lack of attention. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Meghan couldn’t recall having let him back in the house after dinner. She was usually so conscientious about making sure he was in at night. The poor animal was too old to weather the chill of winter.
Meghan searched through the rooms downstairs, turning on lights as she went. Nothing. Guilt pinched her heart. Peter and his fantasy had been the only thing on her mind when she’d followed him upstairs hours ago. The poor cat was probably wondering why he’d been abandoned to the elements.
Opening the front door, she whistled, the note piercing the bitter wind blowing through the darkness. If he was out here, the sound would bring him scurrying from the bushes in front of the house. But when he didn’t materialize from the shadows, Meghan whistled louder, scanning up and down the street, still nothing moved.
Where could he be?
Meghan returned to the house, doing a more thorough search of the cat’s usual resting spots. He was nowhere to be found. She grabbed the box of cat treats on her way through the kitchen. Sliding open the back door, she rattled the box and whistled. Wind shook the birdfeeders and whispered through the trees. Wrapping her robe tighter, she called again. A shadow slid across the deck just past the wedge of light from the kitchen. Mr. Jingles. Meghan alternately made kissing noises and apologized to her cat in a high-pitched voice, hoping to coax him to her. Still he didn’t come. The poor thing was obviously angry at her for abandoning him to the elements.
Stepping into the boots she kept by the back door, Meghan trudged onto the deck. Thank goodness Peter had taken time to shovel it off this morning. She hated traipsing through the snow to search through the shrubbery beneath the deck, but if that’s what it took to get the old cat safely into the house, then she would. As she moved to the bottom of the stairs, she saw the shadow shift again and whistled to Mr. Jingles. He was being unusually stubborn. Focused on the shrubbery, her foot stepped on a chunk of snow and sent her slipping down the steps. She came down hard on her bottom.
“Meghan?” Peter called from the kitchen door. “Honey, what are you doing out there?’
She stood and turned to him, a scream of horror ripping from her throat.
Chapter 7
“Ayden, pass the last of those rolls down this way.” Damon called from the far end of Deirdre’s dining room table.
Meghan tried to settle into the cadence of clanking dishes and rambling conversations. Even surrounded by her family for the last few hours, she couldn’t shake the heavy ache of sadness still squeezing her heart.
“So the Patriots look like they’re going to have a good season.” Deirdre spoke to no one in particular as she scooped a second helping of lasagna onto her plate. It wasn’t fair her sister could pack in so much food and still stay fit. “I think we’re looking at another Super Bowl championship.”
“You say that every year, Dee,” Julie said. “Why don’t you start passing me those empty plates, if you’re finished, Doc?”
Doc McCarty sat quietly at the end of the table next to her dad. The two of them seemed equally happy to be watching the ordered chaos that was a Tilling Sunday dinner.
“Honey, how’re you doing? Peter said you’re still having a hard time.” Her mother spoke quietly as she absently added another plate to the two Doc passed and handed the stack down to Julie. “Mr. Jingles was so old. Cats have a sense about these things.” The satin warmth of her hand wrapped around Meghan’s forearm.
“I know.” Meghan pushed the lasagna around on her plate. Nothing had looked good to her since she’d found her cat dead on the stairs two nights ago. “But I feel just awful about it. I didn’t know an animal could freeze to death.”
“Are you sure that’s what happened, Meg?” Doc asked. “A couple people over at the hospital mentioned there’ve been coyotes in town.”
Peter shook his head. “There were no marks. I checked.” He leaned over and kissed his fiancée’s cheek. “Maybe we can talk about something else?”
Meghan appreciated his support. It seemed silly to still be on the verge of tears at the mere mention of the cat’s name.
“Yeah, like how an engineer spent two hours on a garage door opener before calling in reinforcements,” Deirdre said.
“Like you were any help, Dee. You just kept pointing and making suggestions and drinking my beer.”
“Me? I at least got it running. You couldn’t do that even with the owner’s manual out.”
“Now, now, children, you’ll find yourself on kitchen duty if you don’t quit arguing.” Ayden quipped.
Julie laughed. “I don’t think there’s a piece of machinery out there Dee couldn’t jury-rig. Meg told me she managed to finally get that finicky latch fixed on the shop cooler. It’s so scary what—”
“Dee’s a whiz with stuff. We get that.” The words had come out more clipped than Meghan had intended. She hadn’t told her parents about the accident at the shop and she had no desire to get into it today.
“Dee’s always been the one who pulled everything apart and put it back together,” Alice said, not following up on Julie’s comment.
“Doc here was quite the mechanic when we were in high school.” John smiled at the doctor, who blushed. “He could make any jalopy purr like a kitten.”
“I worked at the corner gas station, but that was eons ago. I only tinker to keep myself busy on the weekends.” He swiped the cloth napkin off his lap and set it on the table. “But these new garage door openers aren’t the same thing as a car engine. I’m sure I’d have no idea how to fix one.”
“I think it’s just something with the wiring, but I’ll be damned if I can figure it out.” Peter picked up his wine glass and leaned back in his chair. “It’s at least opening most of the time. I’ve shown Meghan the pull handle to override the damn thing if it doesn’t work for her.”
“Well, I’m not depending
on either one of you. I’m having it replaced next week.” Meghan said. “I’ve seen my sister’s work up close and personal and I’m certainly not counting her to fix it. Remember the computer fiasco when we opened the shop? It took a computer tech and most of our start-up budget to fix that mistake.”
“Since I can see my sister wants to take a trip down a memory lane I don’t wish to travel…” Deirdre pushed back from the table. “I’ll just clear these plates and get the apple pies Ayden baked.”
“Oh, I couldn’t eat dessert right now.” Damon patted his flat stomach. “How about a half hour to digest the meal?”
“That sounds good.” John pushed up from the table, wobbling on his cane as he stood. “Ayden, why don’t you and I give Doc a tour of the house?” He laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He hasn’t been here since Alice and I owned the place. I’m sure he’d love to see all the renovations you and Dee have done.”
Doc McCarty stood. “I’m considering a few renovations of my own around my house. I’m thinking of selling. It’s much too big for just me.”
Doc had lost his wife years ago and had never remarried. When his son was murdered over the summer, Meghan had wondered how he survived the loneliness.
“Sure, John.” Ayden came around the table to stand next to his future father-in-law and leaned in conspiratorially. “But please don’t make me point out again that Dee did most of the design and workmanship. I don’t think my male ego could take that.”
The men laughed.
“Well, I guess I’ll just load up the dishwasher,” Alice said.
“Why don’t you go with Daddy and Ayden?” Meghan kissed her mother’s cheek. “We’ll do the dishes.”
“I haven’t seen the new sunroom,” Peter chimed in. “I heard Dee did all the tiling.” He joined the group and elbowed Ayden.
“Well, if it’s a male bonding time, count me in.” Damon shrugged his shoulders at the three sisters clearing the table.
Meghan watched the group retreat as she stood and gathered dishes, scraping the leftovers and piling silverware.
“Meg, I really am sorry to hear about Mr. Jingles.” Julie filled her hands with the nearly empty serving dishes. “What did you guys do with…” Her voice trailed off.
“His body?”
Tears glistened in her sister’s eyes and Julie could only nod.
“We took him to the vet’s. They’ll cremate him, and we’ll bury the ashes in the spring.” Meghan’s voice broke as she walked into the kitchen where Dee was already filling the sink with soapy water. “I’m going to miss him so much.”
“Come on, Meghan, he’s a cat. It’s not like you lost a family member.” Deirdre said.
Mr. Jingles had been part of her family, but she didn’t take offense. The concern for their father rode on Dee’s words.
“Daddy looks good today,” Julie said, hearing Dee’s underlying comment. She busied herself packaging up the leftovers.
“He’s definitely getting better. He’s barely using the cane today,” Deirdre said.
“Daddy’s going to be fine. He’s going to walk us all down the aisle and dance at our wedding receptions.” Meghan squared her shoulders as if saying the words with conviction would make them true.
“Speaking of weddings, Damon and I set a date.” Julie kept her back to them.
“What?” Deirdre and Meghan asked the question at the same time.
Julie turned around and fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m not getting any younger. I’m starting a family of my own, and I want to be married to Damon when the baby comes.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I know the timing might not be good, but Daddy wouldn’t like us to put our lives on—”
“Wait! What? What did you say?” Meghan’s voice cut in, quiet, but emphatic.
“Daddy wouldn’t want us—”
“No, not about Daddy.” Meghan’s hand churned the air, trying to clear the confusion. “What did you say about a family?”
Embarrassment flushed up Julie’s chest to settle in her cheeks, painting them a deep shade of pink. “We’re pregnant. I didn’t want to announce it yet, but now it’s out there.” The words fell out of her mouth in staccato bursts.
Noisy screams of congratulations erupted from Meghan and Deirdre as they gathered Julie in a celebratory hug.
“We can’t say anything to Mum,” Meghan pleaded.
“Don’t tell your mother what?” Alice stood in the kitchen door, dishes from the table filling her hands.
“Meghan doesn’t want you to know that Peter’s going out of town again,” Deirdre piped in helpfully, shrugging at Meghan.
“He has been traveling an awful lot, sweetie.” Alice set down the dishes and stepped to Meghan, brushing hair out of her eyes. “But I’m sure the promotion has been worth it, or he wouldn’t do it.” Alice returned to the dining room, Julie following on her heels.
“Thanks, Dee.” Meghan’s low tone couldn’t disguise her anger and hurt.
“What?” Deirdre went back to rinsing dishes. “Everyone but you knows what all his trips…” She emphasized the word with air quotes. “Mean.”
Now her sister had gone too far. “Damn it all to hell, Deirdre Tilling. Since Bri cheated on you and left you high and dry, you’ve been looking for infidelity at every turn.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. And your insinuations are really starting to piss me off! There’s nothing going on with Peter. The end. He loves me, and he sure as hell isn’t looking for someone else. We’re quite happy together, thank you very much!”
John cleared his throat.
Meghan swung around to face Doc McCarty and her father in the door way.
“Girls will be girls, Gordon.” John laughed out the words as he came into the kitchen.
Meghan didn’t know what they had heard, hopefully nothing more than their indistinct voices rife with anger.
John continued, ignoring his daughters’ argument. “And the kitchen was the first room they finished.”
“The house is beautiful, Deirdre,” Doc said, a shaky smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
That’s all they needed, to bring someone else into their family business.
“You girls have coffee?” John leaned heavily on his cane, two fingers pressed to the center of his chest. “I could use something to clear away this heartbu…” John lurched forward, his hand lifting in a feeble attempt to grab the counter. His body folded in on itself, falling to the floor with a heavy thud.
* * * *
Crystal knew when to accept fate without questioning the greater purpose and the ambulance that she had followed from the country farmhouse to the Bangor Hospital was nothing short of a sign. Though she had no idea who was in the confines of the vehicle, the fact that someone in Peter’s close family circle had been delivered here would make getting to him all that much easier.
People had no idea how resourceful she could be when it came to getting what she wanted.
And Peter Maddock was now top priority on her short wish list.
* * * *
“Meghan, you don’t have to fill the paperwork out right now.” Peter took the pen from his fiancée’s shaking hand and folded her into his arms. The family room of the Bangor Hospital ICU didn’t look any different today than it had three months ago. Though the comfortable sofa and wingback chairs were designed to make the space look more like a living room than a hospital waiting area, the distant echo of heart monitors and heavy tension of worry permeating the room didn’t allow for the illusion to replace the reality.
