“Well what?”
Impatience flashed in his eyes, pulled down the corners of his mouth. “What’s wrong with you, Maddie? I asked what you’re doing.”
“Why does it concern you?” Sam interjected.
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” he replied abruptly. “What’s between Maddie and me isn’t any of your concern.”
Samantha raised her eyebrows, then swung her gaze to meet Maddie’s.
Knowing exactly what her friend was thinking, Maddie heard the echo of Owen’s words. What’s between Maddie and me. “Owen, what are you talking about?”
He waved to the new awning. “Tea Cart is what you planned to call your tea shop,” he accused.
She wondered at the anger that had him bristling. “Of course.”
“So what’s all this about? Has your mother passed on?”
Maddie flinched, hearing Sam gasp at the same time. Ice formed amid the unexpected hurt. “No.”
Owen’s frown deepened, and Maddie noticed the well-defined grooves in his skin that indicated he frowned often. “Then I don’t understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand. I’m opening my tea shop.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “You said you were devoting your life to taking care of your mother.”
“I am.”
Owen gestured to the shop. “This isn’t a small conflict of interest.”
Aggravated, she wondered why he had happened along to spoil her day. “Look, Owen—”
He glanced pointedly at Sam. “Does your friend have to hang around?”
Samantha leveled a glare that would have stopped bigger men. “Definitely.”
“I expect an explanation, Maddie. When your bodyguard isn’t around.”
“I don’t—”
But Owen was striding down the sidewalk.
“What blew the rat in?” Samantha wondered aloud.
Maddie shook her head. “No idea. I haven’t seen him in …” She tried to think. “It’s been so long I don’t really know. Explanation? Owen wants an explanation?”
“Maybe you should send him to J.C.”
“I can defend myself.”
Samantha grimaced. “J.C.’s a neurologist, and Owen definitely needs his head examined.”
Maddie chuckled in spite of herself. “I’m not sure J.C. would appreciate the referral.”
Sam stared down the street. “He gives me the creeps.”
“I was having such a good time …” Maddie shuddered. “You know that old expression—feels like someone’s walking on my grave?”
“He’d be doing a jig.” Sam frowned. “I don’t like this.”
“I’m sure it was a one-time hit-and-run.”
Sam didn’t stop staring at his retreating figure. “I’m not.”
Reluctantly, Maddie joined her gaze. Owen was almost out of sight. She intended to make sure he was also out of mind.
J.C. stacked the last of the day’s boxes in one corner of his bedroom. Seth had enlisted a second contractor and together their crews had worked in record time. The apartments were nearly ready. With Chrissy still crying herself to sleep each night, it wasn’t a moment too soon.
Straightening up, he heard a noise from across the hall. Because no air-conditioning or heat was running, it was especially quiet in the building. J.C. glanced at his watch. Eight in the evening. All the workers should be gone. He’d left Chrissy with Maddie and Lillian. More curious than concerned, he crossed through his apartment and saw that the door to the other apartment was now open. Funny, he distinctly remembered it had been closed.
He hadn’t locked the front door of the building, but crime was a nonissue in Rosewood. The most that ever happened were car accidents and teenage pranks. There had been one case of arson, but that had been solved and the culprit was behind bars.
Footsteps echoed over the oak floors, then a light flickered on.
Was someone just curious? But why poke around at night?
Hugging the wall, J.C. glanced inside. Nothing.
Thud.
Sounded like a box was dropped. Almost immediately, he heard something being dragged across the floor, something relatively heavy. J.C. wasn’t innately suspicious, but what was someone up to? It couldn’t be a workman; they were all gone for the day.
He still wore the soft-soled shoes that he’d had on during his hospital rounds. They made it easy for him to move silently as he closed in on the bedroom where the noise came from. Suddenly the light flickered off. Maybe he hadn’t been as quiet as he thought.
J.C. stepped away from the wall, intending to block the intruder. As he did, he crashed into a body much softer than he expected.
A feminine scream made him jump back.
“It’s J.C.”
“What?” Maddie’s breath was short, fear prickling her voice.
“It’s me. J.C.”
“Why are you creeping around in the dark? You scared the life out of me.” One hand pressed against her neck, the other against the wall.
“Last time I saw you was at your house, remember? Watching Chrissy?”
Her breath was coming back, but her eyes were still wide. “Yes, well, Sam and Bret came over. They’re with our ladies. Sheesh. I thought I’d take the time to bring a few things over that I didn’t want to move by truck.” She pointed into the living room. “That vase has been in our family forever.”
“I’m glad you weren’t still carrying it. I have a feeling it might have landed on my head.” Seeing the humor in the situation, he grinned.
She hesitated, then smiled, as well. “I guess I looked pretty ridiculous jumping out of my skin like that.”
He tagged her wrist. “Looks intact.”
Maddie chuckled. “You’re okay for a boogeyman.”
“Did you get all your fragiles moved?”
“Pretty much. Some of Seth’s guys took the rest of the stuff marked for storage today. House looks … not bare, but unsettled. Then in two weeks …”
Moving day. They had plenty of volunteers lined up. Adam had even rearranged his schedule to help. J.C. wanted to move in immediately, but he had a full surgery schedule on Friday, which meant the coming Saturday was out. He was on call and had to be there for his postoperative patients. “Ready?”
“It’s more change than I’ve experienced in a decade,” she admitted.
“Is that bad?”
Maddie shook her head. “A little daunting.”
“I’d offer a comforting cup of tea, but …”
She laughed, the reservation in her expression fading. “That part is amazing.”
Her radiant eyes were a deep blue. And her lips parted in a smile, lighting up the rest of her face. Wanting to reach out and touch the curve of her cheek, he checked the motion, tucking his hands behind his back.
“I have a nearly finalized copy of my menu,” she told him, heading toward the living room. Several paintings were stacked against the wall.
He nodded toward them. “Part of your fragiles?”
“My dad painted. Not professionally, but well, I think. I wanted to make sure nothing happened to them.”
Bending down, J.C. picked up the one on top. Studying the canvas, he was surprised to see a portrait of a young Lillian. He sorted through the remainder. Most amateurs painted landscapes or still-life groupings. Not the late Mr. Carter. His subjects seemed to all be people. Grasping the next picture, he recognized a young Maddie. She must have been about sixteen. A very sweet sixteen.
A thud made him look up. Maddie was marking the wall.
“Let me help you with that,” he offered. “Did you bring molly bolts—wall anchors—for the heavier paintings?”
She put down the hammer, then picked up an unopened package. “Yep.”
He restacked the pictures he was holding and retrieved the hammer. Tapping on the wall, he looked for Maddie’s markings.
She caught his elbow. “I’m not sure about this wall. I don’t think it’s … normal.”
“In what way?”<
br />
Maddie knocked on the wall, starting as high as she could reach, then downward. It sounded solid at first, then he heard a hollow ringing. “It doesn’t sound right, does it?”
“I never saw the apartments when they were lived in. We donated the paper stored up here, but even then I just took a quick glance around. Maybe something’s been walled over.”
Her expression brightened. “Like maybe a fireplace?”
“I suppose so. Why don’t you check?”
Maddie blinked. “Knock a hole in the wall? I couldn’t do that.”
“I can.” He tapped on the wall, but hit a solid structure.
“I think it’s lower.” Maddie stepped closer.
He swung the hammer, extending it out farther than he intended.
Maddie swivelled to avoid the claw end of the hammer, but started to slip on the newly polished floor.
Seeing that she was about to fall, J.C. reached for her. But the same slick floor tripped him up, too. Together they crashed into the wall. The ancient plaster connecting to the Sheetrock fractured under the pressure. As they tumbled, crumbs of falling plaster along with Sheetrock dust covered them. Pieces of the demolished Sheetrock rained down.
Afraid that Maddie would get hurt, J.C. pulled her close, shielding her from the landslide around them. Immediately aware of her softness, he caught his breath. Up close, he could smell the soft scent of apple blossoms from her hair. Silky hair slid beneath his hands.
His breath deepened. As though in accompaniment, hers did, too.
Arms still wrapped around her, he was close enough to see the blue in her eyes darken, her lips opening in a silent sigh. Tipping his head, he reached to close the distance, to see if her lips were as soft as they looked.
Unable to keep her reaction under control, Maddie pulled away. Trying to rein in her breathing, she jumped up. Disappointment flashed in J.C.’s face. But it disappeared so quickly Maddie wondered if she’d imagined it.
Although dust still sifted from the wall, she spotted what looked like granite. Using it as a distraction, she brushed some of the dust away, uncovering pinkish-red granite. “It is a fireplace!” she blurted out, scooting even farther away, hoping to disguise her awkward response to him.
“So it is. Good call.”
Nervously, ran her hand over what remained of the wall. Sheetrock still clung to some of the stone, but the large fireplace was open. Over six feet tall, J.C. had to crouch to get out of the fireplace. Emerging, he swiped at the dust that coated his jeans.
My, his legs were long! Catching herself watching too intently, Maddie dusted her own cotton trousers again, even though she’d already wiped most of the debris away. She didn’t know what to do with her hands or which way to look. Every direction seemed to contain a glimpse of J.C.
“I hope Seth won’t be upset with what we did,” she said in a strangled voice.
“Won’t be too much work for his guys.” J.C. ran his fingers over the jagged edges of remaining Sheetrock. “It’ll look better with plaster.”
“Do you suppose there’s one, a fireplace I mean, in your apartment?”
“Probably.”
She could tell he didn’t want to talk about fireplaces, but she wasn’t about to address her reaction to him. “I guess it would be too much to hope there’s one downstairs.”
“Did you check the walls?”
Maddie shook her head, not caring about fireplaces, either. “J.C.?”
“Yes?”
What was she going to do—blurt out her thoughts? “Oh … nothing. Went out of my head. Guess I’d better get going.”
“What about the paintings?”
“Paintings?”
He pointed to the pile of her father’s portraits.
Feeling her cheeks go hot, she felt like an idiot. “We don’t have to hang them now.”
J.C. tilted his head in question.
“I mean … it will look different with the fireplace exposed. I’ll have to think about where to put them. Are you going to see if there’s a fireplace in your apartment?”
“Suppose so.”
“Do you need any help?” she asked, even though she didn’t want to repeat the experience. She might not be able to hide her response a second time.
“I can do it on my own.”
“Oh. Of course.” Ridiculous, the letdown feeling. “Then I’ll say good-night.”
Nodding, he walked out of the apartment to cross the hall. And Maddie couldn’t help wishing he had asked her to stay.
Chapter Eight
After lunch at the café a few days later, J.C. decided to walk to what would soon be his new home. Although he’d tried to push Maddie from his thoughts, she remained there. Why had she reacted as she had? True, he was skeptical about another relationship himself, but Maddie had acted as though she’d touched fire, jerking away so abruptly.
Now that it was too late to undo their arrangement, he wondered if he had made the right decision. She would be living across the hall. And Chrissy would be spending a lot of time with her, further complicating things.
J.C. took a deep breath. There wasn’t an alternative. Chrissy needed this. And for all he knew, Maddie had her reasons for backing off so quickly.
Activity at Wagner Hill House flurried. J.C. drew his eyebrows together as he watched the scene. Maddie stood out front and a man held her arm possessively. Walking closer, J.C. recognized him. Owen Radley. The guy had an ego the size of his family’s fortune.
J.C. could hear the sound of voices. If he kept approaching, he’d walk right into the middle of the duo. Pausing, he strained to make out their words. Owen repeated Maddie’s name in a raised voice. But her tone didn’t match his.
Watching closely, his protective instincts kicked in, surprising him. Maddie wasn’t his responsibility. Still, he itched to yank Owen’s hand from her arm.
Just then, Maddie stepped back and Owen loosened his grip. She rushed inside her shop. Owen strode quickly away in the other direction. J.C. wished the man had come toward him. He wanted to see his expression, witness whether Owen had a claim to Maddie.
The fact that he did halted his steps. J.C. didn’t want those feelings again. His jaw tightened, remembering his ex-wife, Amy. Her cheating had nearly killed him. Once she left, he’d filled his life with his work and family. Pushing the inevitable loneliness to the back of his mind, J.C. had decided being lonely was preferable to the torment of betrayal.
Maddie had never mentioned Owen Radley. His gut tightened. Evidently, she had secrets of her own. As J.C. watched, the other man stopped next to a Cadillac Escalade, got in and roared off.
Memories hit like a bitter taste, unwelcome, hard to get rid of. His ex-wife had possessed two faces, one that charmed, one that bit once he was lulled. He had dreamed of a family; Amy wanted only what made her happy—his money, her interests. Interests that he eventually learned consisted mostly of other men. She had bad-mouthed J.C. to her friends, claiming he was cold, uninterested in her. He supposed it made her cheating seem more acceptable to her way of thinking.
J.C. had been drawn to Amy because of her large personality and contagious sense of fun. He hadn’t realized that both camouflaged a self-obsessed narcissist. The betrayal still cut deep. So deep he hadn’t allowed himself to trust another woman. He had been so certain he knew Amy before they married, that she was the person he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. The scars she inflicted remained, reminders of how blind he’d been.
Lifting his gaze, J.C. stared down Main Street, Owen’s flashy car now gone. Turning on his heel, he left the Wagner Hill House behind, wishing he could leave his thoughts as easily.
The first floor of the building was swept clean. It wasn’t long now until moving day. Nervously, Maddie studied Chrissy’s expression. Maddie had brought over an old painting which had hung in the living room of Chrissy’s former home. The impressionist style scene was lighthearted—a Victorian couple dining in the dappled sunshine beneath the leafy b
ranches of a chestnut tree.
Not seeing any consternation, Maddie touched the gilt frame. “I love the composition—that they’re eating at a small round table.” Pointing toward the partially assembled tearoom with its eclectic mix of tables where customers would hopefully soon be sitting, Maddie smiled. “Seems as though it was meant to be.”
“I guess so.”
Maddie knelt down. “Chrissy, if you don’t want it here, I’ll take it down. I hoped it would be a good memory, something that makes you feel at home.”
Chrissy nodded. “It’s okay.”
Worried about her next surprise, Maddie offered her hand. “Will you come upstairs? I have something else to show you.”
The child glanced in Lillian’s direction where Maddie had set up a small television to keep her occupied. “Will Mrs. Lillian be okay?”
Touched by Chrissy’s concern, Maddie squeezed her hand. “We’ll only be a few minutes.”
Given free rein by J.C., Maddie had chosen more contemporary pieces for his apartment. She hadn’t wanted to drown Chrissy in the past, but she did want the home to feel cozy, so she warmed the walls with a classic but modern sage-green that complemented the oak floors. Maddie wasn’t sure if he would, but J.C. had opened up the fireplace and it made a perfect focal point for the room. Above it, Maddie hung a family portrait of Chrissy and her parents.
Not letting go of the child’s hand, Maddie nudged her to look up over the mantel.
Feeling her hand tremble, Maddie drew Chrissy closer. “It’s completely up to you whether the picture stays.”
Chrissy stared, tears gathering in her eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’ll take it down.”
Maddie reached for the portrait and almost immediately Chrissy snagged her arm. “I miss my mommy and daddy.”
Heart breaking for her, Maddie enveloped the child in a hug. “I know.” Smoothing her light brown hair, Maddie wished she had more comfort to offer, something that could ease the pain.
Minutes passed before Chrissy pulled away, wiping at the tears on her cheeks.
“We don’t have to decide about the portrait today.”
Chrissy sniffled in reply.
“Shall we go check on …” Maddie had almost said her mom. Quickly she changed the term. “Mrs. Lillian? I brought sandwiches. Maybe she’ll be hungry.” And hopefully, Chrissy would eat, too. There had been so much change in her young life that Chrissy could seldom be coaxed to eat enough, and she had lost far too much weight for her small frame.
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