About Face

by V. K. Powell

  “You get no details because I don’t have any. She’s my landlord. End of story. Now get back to work. I want to get there before dark.”

  She’d been thinking about the apartment at Belews Lake and about Macy Sheridan for the past two days. The small cottage seemed more suited to the beach, but its green siding blended nicely with the woodsy lakefront lot, making it almost disappear into the surroundings. It was exactly what she needed, a private setting away from the city, prying eyes, and questioning reporters. No one could say they were just in the neighborhood, if they could find her at all.

  Her new landlord was more of an unknown. Nate had been right and wrong about her. She was a looker but didn’t need makeup or a makeover to prove it. Her chestnut hair was thick like a stallion’s mane, straight with just a hint of curl at the ends. She’d never seen eyes quite that blend of brown and black, reflecting and absorbing light. The blackish tint fluctuated based on Leigh’s proximity, and she’d enjoyed watching the subtle changes more than a little. Macy had worn a beige sheepskin coat two sizes too large and black baggy jeans that tapered to a pair of scuffed Durango boots. She’d constantly hugged herself as if protecting herself from the world.

  Macy Sheridan seemed perfectly contained, until she’d fallen into Leigh’s arms. Then she unraveled. But in those brief seconds before the panic set in, Macy had felt comfortable against her, as if the universe had purposely flung them together. She’d held on longer than necessary to absorb the heat that rose between them. Leigh missed the luxury of a lover’s arms, but clinging to a stranger had been a little unexpected. She’d jumped to her feet and made a joke to cut the tension. But that feeling stuck to her like a tiny piece of lint to a statically charged blanket.

  “I think that’s the last of it,” Hedy said. “Who knew moving a few boxes was so exhausting?” She glanced toward the door before stepping closer, and Leigh got the awkward feeling that always preceded their taboo topic. “Did you call her yet?”

  “No, and I’m not going to.” Her stomach clenched into a knot of nervous energy.

  “Why?”

  “Come on, Hedy, you know why. I’ve got nothing to say.”

  “It’s been a long time, and things happened that you don’t know about. Did it ever occur to you that she might have something to say?”

  “I don’t care what happened. Besides, it’s too late to change anything. You may think of her as your mother, but she was never mine.”

  Hedy placed her hand on Leigh’s shoulder and forced her to look at her. “You were my mother, cook, housekeeper, tutor, protector, therapist, and best friend. You were my sanity, and I’ll never be able to repay you. But I’ve learned to forgive.”

  “Then you’re a better person than I am.” Leigh didn’t like feeling at odds with her sister. They consistently disagreed on the subject of their mother and seldom discussed her, mainly because she refused.

  “Hey, are we leaving or—” Pam spun around and headed back outside. “Never mind.”

  Leigh grabbed her backpack off the floor and waved Hedy out the door. “Coming?”

  “Yeah.” Hedy’s frustrated sigh signaled her disagreement and her promise that the conversation wasn’t over. “Bo and I’ll follow you.”

  “Can you drop Pam back here when we’re finished?” Hedy nodded. “And don’t let your trucker get lost. Everything I own is in that vehicle.”

  “Including a very nice bed and dresser for my guest room, thank you very much.”

  The atmosphere in Leigh’s car was strained for the first part of the drive to Belews Lake. Pam was obviously trying not to mention the tense scene she’d witnessed between her and Hedy, but she didn’t do quiet or restrained very well. “Go ahead. Say whatever’s on your mind.”

  “Oh, thank God. I was about to bust. Hedy brought up the M-word again, didn’t she?”

  “What was your first clue?”

  “The daggers in your eyes or maybe the fiery cheeks? You know she just wants to help.”

  “Yeah, but there’s no help for the situation…and I really don’t want to talk about it.” She gave Pam what she hoped was her I’m-serious look to end the discussion.

  “Fine, so tell me about your new landlord. I noticed a little flush when I mentioned her earlier. Give me ten words that describe her.” Pam loved this game.

  She sighed and gave in. The more she avoided, the more determined Pam would become and the more pointed her questions would get. “Educated, refined, unusual, reclusive, aloof, controlled, afraid, and attractive.”

  “That’s only eight.”

  “Very hot.” Leigh couldn’t believe she’d said exactly what was on her mind. But even bundled up in heavy clothes with her arms wrapped around herself, Macy Sheridan was hot.

  “Woot!” Pam fist-pumped the air and sang, “Leigh’s got a crush on her landlord. That rocks. And you know I’m totally kidding, right?”

  Leigh shook her head and tried to reason with the unreasonable. “Even if I do have a crush on her, and I’m not saying I do, nothing would come of it. She’s made it very clear she wants privacy.”

  When Pam got an idea, it was like the proverbial thorn in her side. And if Leigh’s love life happened to be involved, she showed no mercy. “Just be open. That’s all I’m asking. You totally rock that innocent redhead thing. Before you know it, she’ll be eating out of your hand.”

  That was an image Leigh could not associate with reserved Macy Sheridan. Nate believed that underneath every uptight woman was a tiger clawing her way to freedom. Maybe this one was a scared kitten needing to be comforted. Whatever her desires, Macy had made it clear she didn’t want to be bothered. They both had reasons for hiding out in the boonies. She wasn’t going to pry into Macy’s and hoped Macy wouldn’t pry into hers.

  *

  Macy dropped a bag of ginger tea into the pot, set the timer for three minutes, and placed her favorite “Starry Night” mug on the counter. Looking toward the lake, she wondered why time disappeared so quickly during happy times and crawled during the hard ones. She’d planned to at least approach the art studio today, maybe even open the door, but she’d said that for the past three months. However, something substantial had distracted her—that woman. Her tenant was moving in, and it hung over her like a lopsided halo ready to crash. She couldn’t possibly tackle the studio with such a disruption to her normal schedule.

  A tickle of discomfort raced up her spine, and she retreated to the safety of her afternoon routine. She adjusted the curtains to diffuse the late-day sun, placed the items she’d chosen for dinner on the same rack in the refrigerator, and checked the woodpile in case she wanted a fire later. Everything was set. In a couple of hours, she’d fix her meal and relax, maybe read or listen to music.

  When the timer sounded, she poured a cup of tea and moved to the wall of windows facing the lake. Would it be possible to relax knowing another person was on the property? What did she know about Leigh Monroe? She hadn’t asked enough questions, but after her clumsy back flip from the steps, she’d been emotionally frazzled. Now every time she glanced toward the boathouse, she’d wonder if Leigh was looking back or if she would appear at any moment. What had she been thinking? It was too late for self-recrimination as she heard the distinctive sound of two vehicles coming down the gravel drive.

  Suddenly her backyard was a cacophony of people and voices. A bald man with a full beard backed a red pickup toward the dock, and she held her breath as he edged closer to the water. Twangy country music and a woman’s off-key singing caterwauled from the vehicle’s windows. Leigh and another woman bailed out of her car, and the other woman ran to the floater, yelling and jumping like a kid at summer camp. The boathouse rocked as if a tidal wave had passed. It took all of Macy’s considerable restraint not to rush out and demand order. Taking a calming sip of tea, she reasoned it would take only a short while for Leigh to unpack.

  An hour later, it seemed like forever. What was taking so long? Music blared from the truck as f
our people darted back and forth carrying boxes that were haphazardly wrapped with tape and spewing clothes and papers. Who were these people? Would they be regular fixtures at the apartment? She’d made it clear she preferred privacy, but she couldn’t prohibit Leigh from having guests. She sipped her tea, unable to look away from the almost comedic scene. It would’ve been funny if it weren’t happening in her backyard. Feeling her world shrinking, she opened the window and breathed in a cool breeze from the lake. But her respite was short-lived as the wind also carried the voices from below.

  “You’re so lucky,” the petite woman with hair almost the color of Leigh’s said.

  “I know, right?” This from the butchy woman with spiked locks.

  “You must be living right,” the man replied, with a slap to Leigh’s ass.

  “Watch where you put that hand or you’ll draw back a nub,” Leigh said. She grabbed him in a headlock and pulled him toward the lake. “Can you swim, Bo?”

  “Hedy, help! Your crazy sister is trying to kill me.”

  “If I let go, will you get back to work? I want to be moved in before midnight.”

  “Promise.” He backed away and pumped a few fake fist jabs in her direction. “I was just about to bust loose on you.” Leigh waved him off and bounded up the apartment steps as if she’d done it for years.

  Macy tried to remember the last time she’d been with friends, much less enjoyed them in such a casual way. Had she ever been as playful, even as a youngster? Maybe as a child when she and Jesse…The picture froze in her mind, and when she blinked, it shattered into millions of pieces, each a shard of pain slashing through her. It had been so many years. Why hadn’t time dissolved the aching? She loosened her white-knuckled grip on her tea mug and took another sip as the man’s voice wafted up from the dock.

  “Last box coming through. Time to celebrate.”

  Leigh swung from the apartment opening, hanging upside down like a monkey. Dear God, did her insurance cover such shenanigans? She started to call out to be careful, but Leigh did a flip and landed cleanly on the floater. “Let’s go for a celebratory swim.”

  “Hello, it’s probably freezing in there?” The butch woman huddled closer to Bo.

  “What’s the matter, Pam, chicken?” He was teasing her.

  “No.”

  “You guys go ahead. I’m going to dabble my toes,” Leigh’s sister said as she sat down on the dock and dangled her feet in the lake.

  Macy definitely needed to call this off before it went any further. She didn’t need four hypothermic people on her dock waiting for an ambulance. As she started to set her mug on the counter, Leigh grabbed the tail of her polo, shucked it over her head, and stripped off her jeans, leaving only a sports bra and hipster boy shorts. Warmth snaked through Macy like a shot of moonshine, and she licked her dry lips. Leigh stood tall and proud, as if being almost naked on a stranger’s dock with these three people was the most natural thing in the world.

  She envisioned Leigh standing in that very spot, posing in the nude as her brush replicated her exquisite form. She’d enjoy touching the subtle curves and dips of her body in order to express them on canvas. Capturing her skin tone would require expertise Macy wasn’t sure she still possessed, but she longed to try. The scene before her played out in real time, and the one in her mind crept in slow motion. Just as slowly her mug slipped from her hands and smashed on the kitchen floor.

  “Shit, shit, shit.” She stalled, momentarily torn between the spectacle of Leigh Monroe and the tea soaking through her pants. It had been too long since she’d seen anyone except a student model nearly nude, but more than Leigh’s nubile body and gentle curves gave her pause. She was drawn to the freedom and enjoyment of life Leigh expressed so easily. Her joking when they met had seemed off-putting, but after seeing her with friends, she realized that was Leigh—jovial, engaging, and so alive.

  As she picked up the pieces of broken glass around her feet and mopped the floor, she wondered what Leigh must think of her. She’d been distant and unwelcoming, to say the least. She hadn’t even recognized when Leigh was kidding—and God knows she could use a good chuckle. When was the last time she’d laughed until she cried and her sides ached? If it was possible to lose a sense of humor, hers was surely missing or so dormant that it needed resuscitation. Strange how it took only a couple of brief encounters to reveal how disconnected she’d become.

  The last sixteen years of her life had been alternately intense and achingly bland. She hadn’t given up entirely, but she’d certainly become more circumspect. Translation, she was boring and predictable. Could she resurrect her artistic muse, or had it also vanished after years of suppression? She’d spent so long trying to solve one mystery that everything else had become secondary.

  *

  “Oh. My. God.” Leigh collapsed on the squishy sofa and propped her feet on the oak coffee table. The sky over the lake was packed with stars, and she couldn’t get enough of the view. She pulled a bundle from one of the boxes, unwrapped the layers of tissue paper, and pointed her old sock monkey toward the sky. “Don’t get skies like this in the city. Right, Toby? Sorry for leaving you in solitary confinement so long. The Grinch didn’t like you.”

  She’d been in her longest relationship with Toby, since her seventh birthday. He’d been a gift from her father, just before he died. Toby’s ears were frayed and the seams around his hat were unraveling, so she held him gently under the arms, careful not to stress the fragile lines of stitching. Gayle had thought he was ridiculous and insisted she put him in storage. “What does she know?”

  When her friends weren’t around to bounce ideas off, she talked to Toby. Often just hearing the situation out loud helped, and he was a great listener who didn’t give cheesy advice. Talking to a stuffed toy wasn’t the most mature thing in the world, but everybody had quirks. She loved motivational adages and Toby, number-one sock monkey.

  “We never had a place like this. The furniture is older than you, but it’s solid and comfortable, the way a home should be.”

  After her father’s death, home was a series of government-subsidized apartments that coincided with her mother’s flavor-of-the-month boyfriends. Susan wasn’t one to bake cookies or play dress-up, and her daughters were seldom a priority. How had she and Hedy grown up so optimistic about love and life? Their role model sucked.

  She’d spent many nights covering Hedy’s ears to block the arguments so she could sleep. Learning to cook had been a necessity, housekeeping falling a distant fourth behind taking care of Hedy and schoolwork. She’d kept up with her studies just enough to ensure Hedy didn’t fall behind in hers. And they’d grown closer. But Leigh still had an inner void that longed to be filled. Why had she never been important enough? How could a mother be so unavailable and unconcerned about her children?

  “Her loss, that’s what I say. We got along without her then…and we sure don’t need her now. Right, my friend?” Holding Toby to her chest, she enjoyed the stars’ reflections off the glassy surface of the lake. She loved quiet, simple moments like these when nature rocked her in its lap and she belonged. As she looked around the cozy little apartment filled with antiques and starlight, she felt at home for the first time in three years.

  “Guess I better unpack. We’ll be staying, if our landlord doesn’t change her mind again.”

  As Leigh divided her clothes between a small dresser and a portable hanging rack, she thought about Macy Sheridan’s behavior the day they met. Her responses to Leigh had been erratic—but predominately aloof, bordering on rude. The perfectly packaged woman seemed on the verge of becoming undone every time Leigh was near. What was Macy afraid of and how did Leigh’s presence threaten her?

  Macy had treated Nate the same way when he approached her about the facial reconstruction, but for some reason his request had upset her. Maybe her last case with the CAP detectives had ended badly. If so, she might be wise to keep her occupation secret. Toby seemed to stare at her from the sofa as if t
o say, Why didn’t you tell her you were a cop?

  “I didn’t want to…I thought I should…wanted to give her…Hell, I don’t know. It’s not like I have anything to hide. Why should she care anyway, as long as I pay the rent?” Toby’s embroidered eyes drilled into her, demanding the truth. “Okay, maybe I was worried she hates cops now. What if she’d seen the newspapers? Would she have rented the apartment to me? Maybe I just wasn’t ready to face one more person who’d judge me without knowing all the facts and dismiss me out of hand.”

  That felt right, but she’d have to come clean sooner or later. She’d give Macy a chance to warm up to her first. They’d shared a moment of connection, in a heap on the dock; at least she’d felt it. When they settled into a comfortable living routine, she’d have plenty of time to gently reveal the details of her not-so-stellar history. Leigh just needed to figure out how to get close to someone who preferred to be left alone—and why it mattered to her.

  Based on Macy’s off-handed comments about her parents, she had a few skeletons of her own. Maybe that was why she acted so unapproachable and disinterested. Such behavior reminded Leigh of her mother, and that hadn’t turned out well. She placed Toby over her shoulder and stepped onto the small balcony overlooking the lake. “But I can warm a sock monkey’s heart. Macy Sheridan doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Chapter Four

  Pictures of Leigh Monroe shucking off her clothes, half naked, and diving into the lake had chased away Macy’s much-needed sleep. The evocative images clung to her as tightly as her damp, tangled sheets. She awoke groggy and hypersensitive, almost agitated. Why did her body respond so viscerally to a woman she’d just met? She was used to nude bodies, artistically, but this one wasn’t like the graduate students she sketched periodically to keep her skills sharp. Leigh Monroe had the curves and telltale signs of maturity that appealed to her creative eye and her prurient interest. She’d love to combine her passions for art and the female form by painting a nude of Leigh. Stop it. Their arrangement was business, best to keep it that way.