No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7

by Barton, Sara M.

  I paused at the traffic light, foot lightly resting on the brake, before I turned right and I drove the mile to West Avenue, turning down the wide lane and traveling another half a mile to number 16. I parked my Miata in front of the house, in the shade of the beech tree. I took the stairs two at a time to the third floor of the Victorian, unlocked my door, and dumped my purse on the sofa on the way to my bedroom. In less than five minutes, I had changed into a pair of red running shorts and a black tank top, thrown my brown shoulder-length hair into a ponytail, and pulled on my Asics over a pair of red ankle socks. Grabbing my phone, I went down the stairs as quickly as I could, my feet flying. Once on the sidewalk, I stepped into a quick walking pace for half a block before breaking into a trot. At the stoplight on the corner, I waited for an old farm truck to make the turn before I trotted across the road and into Plover Park. From there, I picked up speed as I followed the gravel path through the pines and up the hill. Even as I put my feet down and picked them up in the runner’s rhythm, soothed by the beat of my pacing, I cursed Ned. He had to go and spoil it all by mentioning Jasper.

  The truth is I’ve had a crush on him since high school. He was the guy that got away. Even Jay, a senior engineer for Frameless Friction, a machine manufacturing company, was never a match for Jasper.

  I thought about that day Jay moved out of the apartment we had shared for almost two years. My altered wedding dress was hanging from my closet door, enclosed in its protective case. My rhinestone-encrusted heels were sitting in their shoe box on the closet shelf. I had bought my lace bustier and matching panties. There was even a slip of a white silk nightgown hanging on a satin hanger, ready for the trip to Grand Cayman Island. Everything was ready for the big day, except Jay.

  “Suzanne, we have to talk.” Those were ominous words. I remembered putting down my pen and looking up from the seating chart at the bespectacled bridegroom as he stood in the dining corner of the apartment.

  “Sure,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “There’s no good way to tell you this.”

  “What? You lost your job?” I thought I was being funny when I made the comment. The look on his face said otherwise. “What? You met someone else?”

  “I’m really, really sorry,” he started to say. I interrupted him, feeling a sense of panic filling my chest.

  “You met someone else?”

  “Really sorry,” he said again.

  “Who?” This time I waited. Jay’s face went red. He slowly pulled out the chair opposite me and sat at the table. He smoothed the tablecloth, clearly searching his mind for the words he needed to express.

  “I…I can’t marry you.” There was a long pause as I tapped my foot under the table, wondering why, barely able to contain my anxiety. “I’m going to be a father.”

  “A father?” I repeated the words numbly. “But how? I’m not pregnant.”

  “Meghan.”

  “The girl from your office?” Our eyes locked and I knew in that instant just how badly I had been betrayed. “Isn’t she the one you had to meet at the office every weekend to work on projects?”

  Incredulous, I stared at the man who was dumping me and gasped as the full impact hit me. All the late nights and the constant phone calls suddenly made sense.

  “You’ve been cheating on me ever since you asked me to marry you! What a bastard!”

  “Suzanne, I’m so, so, so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. She told me last night.”

  “How stinking convenient!”

  “I had every intention of marrying you. I really did. But it wouldn’t be right, not if I’m going to be a father.”

  “It would have been okay if she wasn’t pregnant?”

  “Well, yeah.” Jay was surprised at my reaction.

  “You would have continued the relationship with her even after we were married. Unbelievable!”

  “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

  “You didn’t mean for me to find out any way!” The tears burned as they splashed down my cheeks. “Get the hell out of my house!”

  “I’ve packed my things,” said the apologetic Jay. I gazed from him to the three suitcases by the door. He had already prepared to leave me. It was a done deal. “And again, I’m so sorry.”

  “Save it. I don’t want to hear it.” I got up from the table, looked down at his bowed head as he studied his folded hands, and resisted the temptation to say more. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he cut me through the heart. I wasn’t going to let him make me crazy. The idea that this stiff, awkward engineer with the personality of a flounder had been boinking the office girl was a shocker. He was the epitome of Mr. Safe Guy, the man who never strayed off the right path because he was oblivious to the scenery. I never knew he had it in him. All this time, I believed him when he said I brought out the best in him. Apparently Meghan brought out the worst, because he waited until the day before we planned to pick up the marriage license to make his big announcement.

  I brought myself back to my run, focusing on the present. I wanted to leave the past behind. There were few people around, despite the fine weather. I had finished the first third of my loop. Still no sign of Jasper. Perhaps I had missed him again. I pulled out my phone and checked the time. Along about now, I sometimes caught a glimpse of him on the hill behind the pavilion. One of these days, my timing would be right, and I would be able to casually pass him on my run. A friendly hello would be a start. I was looking for an opportunity. I needed an opening.

  At the moment, a large group of enthusiastic adults was playing badminton on the playing field, hooting and hollering at missed shots. Children were on the swings and in the sand box. No familiar dark-headed runner.

  Disappointment wrapped around me like a damp towel in a heat wave, weighing me down as I headed up the hill and along the cemetery wall. I let my mind take its own path, and that brought me back to Jay and the broken engagement. Ned never knew the reason Jay and I broke up. I was damned if I was going to let everyone think the unimaginative jerk dumped me. I let my big brother believe that I had changed my mind. I even fed the myth that I had cold feet, letting Ned go through the motions of trying to get us back together. He snagged Jay for a man-to-man conversation that went nowhere. Jay didn’t dare make a peep, not after I told him I would make sure there wasn’t a citizen of our small town who wouldn’t know that he dumped me at the altar for his pregnant bimbo. Three weeks later, he and Meghan eloped. As soon as they got back from their honeymoon on Grand Cayman, she announced she lost the baby. Tearful, Jay came to me one night, begging me to take him back, claiming it had all been a huge mistake. By then, I had changed the locks, especially the one I installed on my heart the day he left. There was no way Jay was ever setting foot in my home again.

  Jasper Wintonberry, on the other hand, was welcome to visit me at any time, day or night. The image of him knocking on my door made me smirk as I thought of the things I wanted to share with him, starting with my hungry lips.

  I had run into him at the Low Down about four weeks ago when I was there for a business meeting. It was the first time I had seen him in about a decade. Putting on my most dazzling smile, I boldly walked up to him with a friendly greeting, to welcome him back to Glendale after all these years. As if I were the unofficial ambassador of the town. As if I were irresistible. But he did resist me. In fact, he simply nodded, said my name dismissively, and turned back to the group of guys at his table. With my heart pounding inside my chest, I pretended not to be crestfallen. I simply walked away with that big, phony smile plastered on my face, dazed and confused about the obvious rebuff. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s getting an arctic blast in response to my sunny overtures. It makes me wonder what was wrong about my approach, especially when I had never been anything but friendly to Jasper Wintonberry. That’s when I decided I would figure out a way to melt that frozen attitude. Since then, I had run into him three more times, and each time he seemed to thaw a l
ittle more.

  I followed the treeless ridge along the hill, sun in my eyes, and crossed the drainage ditch that cut through the trail at the pines. That’s when I felt a sharp sting on my ankle. My running shoes slid across stony surface, still wet from the brief afternoon shower, as I tried to keep my balance.

  “Crap!” I felt like a bobble-headed doll on roller skates as I careened down the hill, losing my traction. Pitching forward, I stumbled and skidded, bounced and bumped, finally unable to stay upright. From there, it was just pure physics in action as my feet flew out from underneath me and I went tumbling the rest of the way. Arms outstretched, I sledded for several yards on my stomach before coming to a clumsy stop at the bottom.

  It took me a moment to right myself and recover what little dignity I had left. Wiping the dirt and grass stains off my hands, grateful to have the foresight to be wearing black shorts, I considered my next move. If I wanted to stick to the familiar trail, I would have to climb back up the hill and I wasn’t sure I had the strength to do it. The fastest way was through the woods, but the path was uneven and the sunlight was fading fast. As I dithered, looking up at the way I had come and across at the unfamiliar, I felt a throbbing in my left knee. Soon I would be stiff and sore. Suddenly, the quickest route seemed the best choice. With a shrug, I surrendered to my fate and hobbled into the forest. Following the faint glow of the setting sun, I made my way along the leaf-strewn track. By the time I reached the edge of the woods, I had added a slew of mosquito bites to my injuries list. Filthy, frustrated, and frazzled, I considered the long walk home. Surely I looked a complete mess. A long soak in the tub would do me some good. Perhaps this was the night to call Shanghai Palace for some shrimp with cashews, instead of cooking. Reaching the curb, I waited for the crosswalk signal to change. So intent on having as much time as possible to limp across the street, I didn’t notice the Lexus until it was right beside me and the electric window was sliding silently down.

  “You okay? You look like you could use a ride.”

  “I…I….”

  “Climb in, Suzanne,” said the heartthrob behind the wheel. I swallowed hard, grabbed the handle, and eased my aching body into the seat beside the driver. “Where can I take you? Emergency room? Laundromat?”

  “Home,” I replied, feeling like I was in a dream.

  “Where might that be?” Jasper Wintonberry wanted to know.

  Chapter Three —

  “West Avenue,” I told him, putting a hand up to my face. I was fairly certain I had dirt all over my cheeks. “The Victorian. Number 16.”

  “I’d tell you you look great, but at the moment, you look like hell. Did someone kick the crap out of you?”

  “Actually, I fell when I was running at Plover Park.” I took a sideways glance at the man of my dreams, the one who got away. He looked like a million bucks, literally. It was enough to take my breath away. Like a dream who stepped straight out of a Drakkar Noir ad. His face was lightly tanned, his dark hair perfectly coiffed. The eyes were still as green as I remembered. He was wearing a blue Nautica shirt and chinos, with boat shoes on his sockless feet. All that was missing was the yacht, and I suspected that was probably docked down at the Bayside Marina.

  “That explains the scrapes and bruises,” he decided. “I haven’t really talked to you since our high school reunion. What have you been up to?”

  I explained to him about going to work at Dawkins Builders straight out of college and how my brother had taken over the helm after our parents died in a car accident. In my effort to impress, I told him about the place on Glengarry Court.

  “Wow,” he exclaimed. “Sounds interesting. I’d love to see it. I’m looking for a place for my mother. She’s moving back from Boca Raton. When can I take a look?”

  “Why don’t you give us a couple of weeks, and you’ll be able to better imagine the final results,” I suggested, giving him my most adorable smile, which was surely tempered by my current appearance, grass stains, scrapes, and all. He gazed over at me casually, hands on the wheel.

  “Why can’t I see it before you start? That way, if I want to add or subtract anything, I can.”

  “We don’t normally work that way, because it’s a flip,” I responded.

  “But if I’m willing to pay you guys to do the work, doesn’t that count for something?”

  “Sure,” I agreed. After all, I knew Ned wanted to buy the place. The trouble was that if we made changes Jasper wanted and he changed his mind, cancelling the contract with us, we’d be stuck with the house. Then again, it really was a cute place. Surely someone would want to buy it. Maybe even me.

  “Here we are.” Jasper pulled his Lexus up to the curb behind my Miata. “Let me give you my number.”

  I waited as he reached into his cup holder and pulled out a gold-edged business card. Fortescue Investments. Jasper was a certified financial planner.

  “Call me when you get the place.”

  “Sure,” I promised, hand on the door. “Thanks for the ride. I’m not sure I would have made it home on my own.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you would have done fine. You’re a strong, healthy girl.” He gave me a short smile and I realized that was my cue. Stepping out, I turned back to shut the car door. That’s when I saw the baby car seat in the back, along with the pile of kiddie books and the busy box. The ideal man had a kid. My body may have been battered in that tumble down the hill, but now my heart was bruised by the knowledge that the guy I thought was my future was a dad.

  I didn’t even bother waving as the sleek sedan drove off. I dragged myself into the house and up the stairs. How long had I been chasing the dream? I saw Jasper at the hardware store three and a half weeks ago, having a key made. There, in my paint-stained clothes and looking like some kind of Hetty Homebuilder, I ducked behind the next aisle and scooted out of the store like a fugitive on the run. The last thing I wanted was Jasper to set eyes on me looking like that. When I caught sight of him on my run two days later, I began to plot in earnest for the chance to bump into him. Now it turned out that I had wasted all that time for nothing. The guy was still unavailable, still tucked on that shelf out of reach. My record with men stood. They were, as a group, way ahead of me, and I couldn’t see that I was ever going to get chance to even the score.

  Let’s face it. Some women are great at yanking men through the hoops. They know how to work their magic, how to get what they want without giving up much. Not me. When it comes to being a femme fatale, I’m about as subtle as a pneumatic drill.

  Ned always insists it’s because I don’t treat relationships as seriously as I do the houses I fix. Is that true? It’s hard to say. You’d think I’d be a lot tougher, given that I work with a lot of men in the construction business. Lord knows I’ve been hit on more times than I can remember. But the truth is I can see structural problems in homes that most people ignore and I know that you can’t half-ass a construction job. I’m always looking to fix what’s broken in buildings. I like things tidy. I like things functional. But when it comes to romance, I have a sentimental side that leaves me misty-eyed and wobbly. My biggest weakness is I sometimes bend too much when people come up short on character. I’m willing to cut people too much slack if I think I can achieve my goals with them. That’s when I get into trouble. They wind up walking all over my heart before they walk out the door. I’ve got the footprints all over me to prove it.

  I drew a warm bath, opened the bathroom window, and watched the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean from my wet perch. Ned and I had renovated 16 West Avenue just before Jay and I moved in. I had my choice of the condos, but I loved the view from the top floor. My little turret attached to the living room looked out toward the bay, and I could watch the distant lights on the bridge at night as the cars crossed from Elingham into Glendale. My little balcony had a peak of the sea, and it was a lovely spot to sit in the morning with a cup of coffee or at night with a daiquiri. But the best spot in the house was the tub. I could watch the surfers ride
the waves and see the sailboats as they left the bay for the ocean.

  So immersed was I in the soothing powers of the water and the glass of wine I held in my hand, I didn’t realize at first that my phone was ringing. Scrambling to put down the chardonnay and pick up my smartphone, I managed to splash water onto the floor. Caller ID displayed an unfamiliar number without a name.

  “Hello?” I said tentatively.

  “Suzanne, it’s Jasper Wintonberry.”

  “Hi,” I responded breathlessly. What kind of idiot gets her hopes up on a guy with a kid? I was mad at myself for doing my Marilyn Monroe impression because I was caught off-guard.

  “What’s up?”

  “I checked out your website and I just wanted to tell you that I’m serious about taking a look at that place. You do nice work.”

  “Oh, thanks,” I said in response, trying not to get my emotional panties in a bunch over a guy who wasn’t available.

  “I just wanted you to know I’m very interested.”

  “Great. I’ll let my brother know.”

  “Maybe we could get together for a drink to discuss it.”

  “Well, first you should see the place and know what our plans are. It’s not the kind of house that would appeal to most people,” I informed him.

  “Who would it appeal to?”

  “Someone who wants a place that doesn’t require much maintenance or space. It’s going to be very compact, kind of like living on a boat, with built-ins and not a lot of square footage.”

  “That sounds like June. She’s on her own now, feisty and independent. Doesn’t want anyone’s help unless it’s absolutely necessary. We might have to bring her into the design choices. She’s coming up in three days.”

  “Certainly something to consider.” I was wondering how long it would take Jasper to finish torturing me with his seductive voice and his charm. My best guess was about ten days. I’d be able to resist the first week of being around him. I’d feel anchored enough to the project to focus on the details of the renovation. But after that, I’d probably be contractor’s putty in his hands. Maybe I would pass Jasper on to Ned, and let him handle things. Certainly my older brother, who had already warned me about having a crush on an unavailable guy, would know how to deal with him.