Ali nearly choked. “What?”
“You’re walking like—oh, never mind. Sally—” Vivian raised her voice “—I want them all. Tell your son they need to be upholstered in that red velvet I gave you a sample of, and I’ll want them delivered to my estate by next Saturday. How many did you say there were?”
Sally set aside her loupe and the ugly necklace she was working on. “Thirty-two.”
“I’d hoped for more, but it’ll have to do for now.” Vivian smiled. “You know where to send the bill.”
“Absolutely.” Sally handed Vivian her fur coat, which had been hanging on a standing coatrack carved to look like elephant tusks. “Always a pleasure, Mrs. Templeton.”
Ali hurried out the door after her grandmother. “Vivian, I’d dearly love to keep up with you. Did you get the planning committee to agree to this?”
“Please.” She waved her hand dismissively.
Ali took that as a no. Knowing her grandmother, that was enough cause for concern. Vivian could spend money like nobody’s business. Of course, that habit was mitigated somewhat by the fact that she was richer than sin. If Vivian wanted to throw her money away, it was hers to throw. “So...you are having a ball instead.”
“Well, not a formal ball in the traditional sense.” Her grandmother clasped her hands together and leaned against the side of her car. Parked among pickup trucks and SUVs, it looked particularly outrageous.
“I’m not exactly sure what a formal ball is in the traditional sense,” Ali said drily, “but go on.”
Vivian gave her a look. “Don’t play dumb. You’re merely trembling in those awful man-boots you wear, afraid that I’ll require you to wear a ball gown.”
Ali made a point of glancing down at her so-called man-boots. They were entirely department-issue. But she still took a little issue. At Christmastime, her grandmother had thrown what was becoming her usual fancy-dress party. Ali had had to borrow a dress from her mother, but she’d done it and shown up more or less appropriately attired. “Just because I’m a cop doesn’t mean I don’t like to wear pretty things,” she said defensively. “I just can’t afford—”
“Bah. You could afford plenty if you’d just let me get that hovel you live in fixed up for you.”
“I’m not taking money from you, Vivian.” It was an old argument—Vivian wanting to give Ali and her sisters money to fix the place up right. And by that, Vivian meant right now.
“Instead, you insist on pouring what meager money you do have right down leaking pipes.”
She let the “meager” part slide, since it was more than a little accurate. “In that, you and Dad agree.”
“Well, that would be the only thing your father would agree with me about. And David is nearly as bad.”
Ali hurriedly changed the subject. Carter and David’s feud with their mother had been going on longer than she’d been alive. While it wasn’t entirely open warfare between them, the way it had been in the beginning, the rest of the family had pretty much accepted that it wouldn’t end anytime soon. “Back to the untraditional nonformal ball.”
Vivian’s expression immediately brightened. “Oh, yes. A ball on ice.”
“Pardon?”
“Ice skating.” She clasped her fur collar closer beneath her chin and her eyes danced. “Arthur took me ice skating the first time he proposed to me. Oh, it was magical.”
Ali couldn’t help but smile at the image that brought to mind. When her grandmother married Arthur Finley, she’d been in her seventies. Ali figured most people would be worried about falling and breaking a hip or something. But not Vivian.
“We’ll have an ice rink. And a warming tent, of course, with every refreshment that Montrose can think of. He’s in his element, I can tell you that.”
Montrose was her grandmother’s chef, brought with her from Pennsylvania. He was bald as a cue ball and as snooty as a dowager. Nevertheless, the things that came out of his kitchen were a taste bud’s treasure.
“That’s a lot to get underway in very little time, Vivian. Are you sure you’re not taking on too much?”
“Delia’s helping. She doesn’t have the natural abilities that Penny had, of course, but she’s coming along quite nicely, actually.”
Delia was one of Ali’s cousins. She’d never particularly been known for her consistency in life. But she’d been acting as their grandmother’s personal assistant since before Christmas, ever since Penny, Vivian’s previous assistant, had married Delia’s big brother, Quinn. “Is Penny returning to work for you once she and Quinn are back from Texas?”
“They’re already back. Good Lord, child. Don’t you keep up with your own cousin and his wife?”
Ali wasn’t going to get sidetracked. “Back to the chairs, Vivian. What are the chairs for?”
“Just because it’s a Valentine’s ball on ice doesn’t mean guests won’t need a place to sit.” She plucked a pair of gloves from inside her handbag and started pulling them on. “It’ll be a lovely sight. Women in old-fashioned dresses. Men in their ties and tails. It’ll look like a Victorian postcard.”
“In an area where dressing up basically means kicking the cow pies off your boots before going inside.” Ali knew she sounded doubtful and couldn’t help it. “That kind of fancy dress might be hard for some people to come by, you know. Particularly on such short notice.”
“I know. Which is why I’m making sure that some—” she gave Ali a pointed look “—are accurately attired. I’ve already arranged for costumes to be sent out from Pennsylvania. My former dressmaker is handling it. The rest of my guests will simply make do. I’m certainly not going to turn them away from the event just because they aren’t dressed right. The old me might have wanted to, but not anymore. All I’m asking for is that everyone who comes consider making a small donation to the Fielding Memorial Library Fund.”
Ali felt a pain in her forehead. “I didn’t know there was such a fund.”
“There is now,” Vivian assured her blithely. “Arthur was a strong believer in the public library system, and Weaver’s is entirely inadequate. I mean to see that changed, starting with building a new library. And I could pay for it myself, but Hayley keeps reminding me that it’s important for people to feel invested in their community. So.” She clapped her gloved hands together. “I’m making this the start.”
“What about the potluck that’s already in the works?”
“It’s the following day. It’ll be fine. Delia has begun posting signs around town and she’s already getting interest.”
Vivian had all her bases covered. “I haven’t been on ice skates in years, Vivian,” Ali warned. As a girl, she’d played hockey with the boys and always figured she’d had more fun than the girls prancing around in their white figure skates. “And never while wearing some froufrou skating dress, much less some old-fashioned outfit straight out of a Dickens novel.”
“Skating’ll come back to you.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she said drily. “Where is this postcard rink supposed to be? Weaver has a skating rink already.”
“Yes, and they play hockey on it. Dreadful sport.” Oblivious to Ali’s reaction, she plowed on. “The rink will be created behind my house. I already have it worked out with my landscape architect. It’ll be like nothing Weaver has ever seen.”
Ali nodded. “That’s for sure.”
“And you’ll bring your handsome Grant. He’ll be a fine escort, I’m certain.”
Ali’s lips parted. “I don’t know if that’s something he’ll be particularly interested in, Vivian.”
Vivian gave her a sidelong look. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to convince him.” She had her keys out now and they jangled as she waved gaily and hurried around to the driver’s side of the car.
“Vivian, please be careful driving.”
“I’m always careful, darling
.” She got inside and a moment later, revved the engine. The window on the passenger side rolled down.
Ali stepped closer, looking inside the car. “What?”
“Try Epsom salts in the bath,” Vivian advised, looking crafty. Then she rolled up the window, bumped off the curb and shot down the street.
Chapter Eleven
“How far did you get reading that Plumbing for Dummies book?”
Grant looked up from the liver and onions he’d ordered for lunch and felt something lift inside him. It was barely more than twenty-four hours since he and Ali had sloshed bathwater all over his bathroom floor. “If it isn’t Officer Ali. Young Timmy told me you were over at the courthouse when I stopped in.” He lifted his fork. “I’d offer you some, but I know how you feel about this stuff.”
She grinned and slid into the booth opposite him. Without asking, she did, however, reach for his cup of coffee and take a sip, squinting a little over the steam rising from it. “As a matter of fact, I was at the courthouse.”
“You look pretty happy about it.”
“Only because of the ironies of fate.”
He raised his eyebrows.
She laughed softly and leaned toward him across the table. “I told you about Keith.”
“Yeah. You also told me your movie-of-the-week plot.”
“Which you scoffed at,” she reminded him. “And yet...” She sat back, spreading her slender palms wide. Her dark eyes sparkled.
“You actually set him up with someone.”
“That’s the beauty of it.” She was practically wriggling in her seat with excitement. “I didn’t have to!”
“Hey there, Ali. Bring you some lunch?”
Ali looked up at Josephine. “Um, sure. The French dip. But only if it’s fast. I’ve got to get back to the department before Gowler notices I’m not still at court.”
“Coming right up,” Josephine assured her before hustling back to the kitchen.
“You didn’t have to set him up.”
“Nope. Keith’s pulling public-defender duty this week and got assigned a juvenile we hauled in a couple days ago. He took one look at the boy’s mama and—” she spread her fingers “—poof. Love was in the air.”
“Just like that.”
“Hey. It happens.”
She didn’t need to tell him. Once Cal and Talia had scooped him out of the bowels of perpetual unwantedness, Grant had listened dozens of times to their love-at-first-sight story.
Even then, he’d never been a particular believer. He’d always figured that lust at first sight was probably closer to the truth of it.
And that he could seriously believe in.
“Maybe,” he said. “So long as it helps get Gowler off your back, why not?”
“Oh, I promise you. I recognized the signs on Keith’s face.” She fluttered her lashes. “By the time Judge Stokes cracked his gavel on the case, Keith was giving Lydia Oakes the most besotted looks you’ve ever seen.”
“Besotted?”
She nodded. “Besotted. Sarge is definitely going to be hearing about his boy’s latest love interest.” Her knee brushed against Grant’s beneath the table. “So about that plumbing.”
He eyed her, genuinely amused. “That’s some pretty seductive talk there, Officer.”
She leaned across the table again. “It’s not a euphemism!”
He laughed, drawing glances from the other diners.
She grinned and sat back again. Her eyes clung to his and he wondered if the onlookers would describe them as besotted. Then he wondered if he even cared. “Isn’t Stokes the judge in charge of Layla’s case?”
She nodded. “And speaking of Layla, I learned there were roughly forty female births in the general area during the three months after your sister was at the boardinghouse in Butte. If I want statistics more recent than that, it’s going to take a trip to the recorder’s office there.”
“And?”
“None of the mothers’ names was Karen Cooper or Daisy Miranda. But if she used one alias, she could have used another. It’s a matter of tracking all the families down and, well...” She made a face. “You know how it is. Not enough hours in the day.”
“Situation calls for a private investigator.”
“Yeah, and I’d need a mint to print some money to pay one, too.”
The truth sat coiled inside him. If he was any sort of decent brother at all, he would have contacted John Fletcher to track down his sister when he’d first learned about Layla. John had done plenty of other work for him. “Your brother-in-law’s got money. And a vested interest.”
“Yeah, but because Linc does have a vested interest, they need to avoid the appearance of trying to manipulate the situation. It was touchy enough for him to foot the bill for the trips I’ve already made. Same thing with my grandmother. She’d do anything she could to help Maddie and Linc. She’d even consider bribing a judge. She didn’t, thank God.” She rolled her eyes expressively. “But that’s why the detectives are handling the investigation.”
“Who haven’t done squat. You’re the one who tracked Karen to me.”
“And that’s as far as I’ve gotten, which hasn’t helped much. We still don’t know for sure that Karen is Layla’s mother, and we have absolutely no idea who the father might actually be. The lady in Butte remembered your sister mentioning your name, and she assumed you were the dad.”
He grimaced. “I’m from a twisted family, but not that twisted.”
Ali eyes rested on his face and he wished he hadn’t said that. Fortunately, she seemed to sense his discomfort and after a second, she went right on. “She also relayed that Daisy said you would really hate her if you found out what she’d done. Do you suppose she meant getting pregnant?”
“Who knows?”
“There are just so many blanks that need filling in.”
“Anyway.” She took another sip of his coffee. Setting the cup back next to his hand, her fingertips brushed against his. “The investigation has gone beyond what’s normal in this situation. It’s a miracle that Stokes hasn’t already placed Layla for adoption. Truthfully, I think he’s got a soft spot for Maddie.”
“But not soft enough to put your sister’s name at the top of the adoption waiting list.”
“Not if he wants to keep getting reelected. It’s one thing to push the envelope and another thing to toss it out entirely.”
“Here you go.” Josephine had returned in record time. She set a loaded plate and a tall glass of water in front of Ali. Then she was off again.
Ali immediately picked up the roast-beef sandwich and dunked it deeply into the cup of juice nestled in a mountain of crispy French fries. “Great French dips here,” she murmured, and shoved the dripping sandwich into her mouth, taking a huge bite. She swallowed quickly, barely seeming to chew first. “So about the kitchen faucet. Totally flipped its lid this morning. Water was spewing everywhere, which makes me glad we haven’t gotten the cupboards finished, or we’d have that mess to deal with all over again. Maddie knows how to replace the faucet and the pipes leading to it, but she’s so busy with Layla and Linc and her job, I don’t want to bug her.”
“Do all social workers know how to plumb a sink?”
“I think if they work around these parts they do,” Ali said. “I can manage it myself, I think, but I don’t have the tools.”
“Ah. The crux of the matter.” He was glad to change subjects to something else besides Karen having her baby alone in Montana. If he’d been there for her, none of this would be happening. But did that mean he wouldn’t have met Ali?
He dismissed the thought as soon as it hit.
Braden was a small town. One way or another, they’d have met.
And if you’d never decided to hide out in this small town in the first place?
He shoved the quest
ion to the back of his mind and pressed his knee against hers. “It’s my tools that you’re really wanting.”
She grinned and took another whopping bite of her sandwich, as if she was starving.
Maybe she was. God knew he wanted to take some whopping bites of her.
“When do you want to do this? I’ll have to run out to the ranch to get ’em.”
“I’ve already promised Marty I’d pull a shift at Magic Jax tonight, so maybe after work tomorrow? I get off at five.” The tip of her pink tongue snuck out and caught a drop of au jus from the corner of her lip, causing his mind to immediately jump off the tracks.
He shifted and cleared his throat. “Then I’ll meet you at your place a little after five tomorrow. Tools at the ready.”
She pointed her sandwich at him. “Real tools. Not...you know.”
He gave her a steady look and watched her pupils flare a little. “Pretty sure I can talk you into you know as well.”
She leaned across the table again, lowering her voice. “My grandmother asked if I was saddle sore! Can you believe it?” She shook her head. “I nearly died.” She took another hefty bite of her sandwich.
His encounter with her grandmother had been brief, but somehow he wasn’t surprised. “If you don’t slow down, you’re gonna choke.”
She shook her head, chasing the bite with a gulp of water. “Seriously, I’m supposed to be en route from the courthouse. Which is only a whopping ten-minute walk from the department. But I saw your truck in front of the diner and couldn’t resist.” She grabbed some French fries in one hand and slid out of the booth. She hadn’t even taken off her coat in the few minutes she’d been there. She pulled out some crumpled currency and dropped it on the table.
His conscience stirred. “I can get it.”
“Don’t go all macho on me. Someday when you want to tell me where you get your money to buy cement and paint, you can pay. But for now? It’s payday and I like to pay my own way.” She quickly swiped her mouth with her napkin and wrapped the French fries in it. Then in front of God and all of Josephine’s customers, she leaned over and kissed him boldly on the mouth, her lips all salty and enticing. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Show Me a Hero Page 14
