by Debbie Mason
“You’re pregnant. You’re not supposed to be looking at naked men. It’s not good for your blood pressure,” Skye informed Madison.
“He’s not naked. He has his pants on,” Grace said as her face heated.
“I know.” Skye turned the sketch pad toward them, doing a Vanna White impersonation. “But look at that back, those shoulders, and those arms—they’re enough to raise anyone’s blood pressure.” The sketch was of Jack from the back, wearing a pair of low-riding jeans, throwing a laughing little Jack in the air. Grace had filled the sketch pad with moments she wished would happen while he was missing.
“Oh, that’s beautiful,” Skye said, as she turned to a drawing of Grace and Jack kissing, her hand on his face.
Skye flipped to another page. “This is the house on your cakes.” It was a sketch of Jack walking up the path through the wildflower garden with their son on his shoulders. Foolish dream, she thought. Jack didn’t want to live in Christmas, and he’d never wanted to be tied down to a house. She’d known that from the beginning, but once she’d had little Jack, she’d hoped he’d change his mind.
“We’ve gotten off track, ladies,” Grace said as she got up to take the pad from Skye. “I need to come up with a plan to counter the bad press.” At least if she was doing something, she’d feel as if she had some control over the situation.
Skye stood up and retrieved the sketch pad from Grace. She opened to the drawing of herself as the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy. “Here’s your answer, ladies. Grace will give an interview to that nice reporter and explain that she never stopped loving her husband, but she had to move on because it was making her sick and she had her son to think about. That’s why you wrote the note, isn’t it, sweetie?” she asked Grace.
“Yes,” Grace said, her throat painfully tight as she remembered how she felt the day she wrote her good-bye letter to Jack.
“All right, be prepared to be awed by my brilliance. Grace made her wish, and as soon as the sugar plum was opened, they learned Jack was alive. And that’s because, my sweets, the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy granted the wish Grace really wanted but was too afraid to ask for.” Skye grinned. “Don’t hold back your applause.”
Madison slowly nodded. “It might just work.” Then she started to laugh. “You’re right—it’s not only brilliant, I have a feeling we won’t be able to keep up with orders after we go to the press with this.”
“When you’re given lemons, make lemonade, that’s what I always say,” Skye said.
“It’s a great idea,” Grace said, but there was one problem with the plan. The press would want to know why she’d kicked Jack out of the apartment. And even though Grace loved him and knew he loved her, too, she had to be sure he was in love with her and wasn’t just doing the honorable thing before he moved back in.
“So, how much does this gig pay?” Skye asked.
Madison frowned. “What gig?”
“Umm, me playing the Sugar Plum Cake Fairy.”
“You’re joking, right?” Madison asked.
“Are you kidding me? Of course I am,” Skye said on a half laugh.
Grace didn’t think Skye was joking, which didn’t make sense, because trust-fund baby Skylar Davis had more money than God, according to Madison. But Madison had also said Skye was too generous and would one day end up broke. Grace had a feeling that’s exactly what had happened. Because now that she thought about it, the Skylar Davis Madison talked about would have offered to keep the bakery afloat until they received the check from the insurance company.
“We’ll take pictures of you in costume for the book and publicity material, but don’t worry, we’ll get on it ASAP. I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck in Christmas for long,” Madison said.
“Uh, no, I’m good. Footloose and fancy-free, that’s moi. I thought I’d, you know, stay for a while. Help you with the baby and the girls.”
Madison’s eyes widened. “But… but I’m only four months pregnant.”
“I know. Won’t it be great?” Skye asked, her face stuck in a frozen smile.
No doubt about it, Grace thought. Trust-fund baby Skylar Davis was broke.
Before Madison could respond, there was a knock on the door. Grace went to answer it. “Uh, hi, what are you all doing here?” she asked, as Holly, Hailey, Brandi, Nell, Mrs. Tate, and Mrs. Wright trooped into the apartment.
“We thought you could use some cheering up,” Holly said with a sympathetic smile.
Brandi held up a box filled with mix and liquor. “To help drown your sorrows. Sawyer created a new drink, Christmas in July. We’re going to try it out.”
“Ignore them,” Nell said. “We’re here to help figure out who set fire to the bakery and how to catch them. I’m real good at solving mysteries, you know.”
Mrs. Tate nodded enthusiastically. “She is. She always figures out who the murderer is before the cops do on Law & Order.”
“Yeah, it’s damn annoying,” Mrs. Wright muttered as she trailed behind the other women into the living room.
Grace stared after them, tears welling in her eyes, and closed the door. This was why she loved Christmas. From the first day she’d moved to the small town, the women had made her feel like part of an extended family. They were always there for her. They had her back. She wished she could find a way to make Jack see that.
“Okay,” Madison said, holding up her cell phone as Grace entered the living room. “One thing taken care of. I talked to John Ryan. They had a cancellation on Good Afternoon Denver. They’re fitting you in the day after tomorrow. He felt responsible for how the press conference went and wants to help turn this around for you. He wondered if Jack would be joining you, but I told him he was busy.” At Grace’s raised brow, she said, “We need the focus to be on you and your sugar plum cakes, not your husband the hero.”
Grace supposed she was right, but didn’t get a chance to question Madison further because Nell was already off and running.
“Now,” Nell said, sitting on the couch with a pad of paper and a pen in hand, “let’s figure out who set fire to the bakery.”
“I’ll make the drinks,” Brandi said and headed for the kitchen.
An hour later, they had a list of suspects. Grace didn’t know how half of them ended up on there, but she was afraid to argue with Nell. “Well,” Nell said, clicking her pen, “that Maria gal, Jack, and Stu are our primary targets.”
“Nell, you’re making me nervous,” Madison drawled. “What do you mean, our primary targets?”
“You’re married to an officer of the law. You should know what that means.”
“That’s why I’m nervous. And I know you, which makes me more nervous.”
“We’re going to do a little digging, nothing illegal.”
The way the three older women were carrying on, Grace didn’t blame Madison for being nervous. So was Grace. Then again, maybe the drinks were making the older women a little loopy.
“I think we can eliminate Jack from the suspect list, Nell,” Grace said.
“You’re the one who put him on there.”
She’d forgotten about that. A sure sign that Grace was a little loopy, too. But no matter what she’d said last night, she knew Jack had nothing to do with the fire. Her accusation had been made in the heat of the moment. Her anger and fear had gotten the better of her. Today it had been three drinks on an empty stomach.
“So did we,” Mrs. Wright said, nodding at Mrs. Tate. “He fits the profile. Remember, when he was twelve, he nearly burnt down the church hall.”
“And he did set the garbage can on fire in the boys’ changing room when he was fifteen,” Hailey added.
“Not on purpose, Hailey. He was smoking, and the janitor walked in. He’d already been suspended twice that year. He didn’t want to get kicked out, remember?” Holly said.
“More like he didn’t want his grandmother to tan his behind,” Nell said.
Poor Jack, Grace thought, feeling the need to come to his defense. “I’m sure all
of us have done things when we were young that we’re not proud of.” She certainly had. “But you guys know the man he’s become. And he’d never do anything that would put little Jack and me at risk.”
Several of the women agreed with her, and Nell crossed Jack’s name from the list. Grace didn’t think Stu would put little Jack in danger, either. His MO was more to beat up things than set fire to them, but she was vetoed. He remained at the top of the suspect list along with Maria. Nell expected a surveillance report from all of them in three days’ time. She followed up her directive with detailed instructions on interrogation and investigative techniques. “All right, meeting’s adjourned,” Nell announced at the end of her display of self-defense moves. In case, as she put it, “the unsub had to be taken down.”
“Okay, y’all, I think a cup of tea is in order before you leave,” Madison said, then whispered to Grace, “Hopefully clearer minds prevail or we could have a real problem on our hands. Gage is going to kill me if he gets wind of this.”
Jack wouldn’t be too happy, either.
Skye, along with a not-so-sober Holly, headed to the kitchen.
Thirty minutes later, Grace ushered the women from the apartment. “Remember, Grace, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.” Nell did a two-finger point to her eyes, then to Grace. “Don’t let that Maria gal out of your sight.”
“I won’t,” Grace promised as she closed the door. Suddenly exhausted, she leaned against it. What she needed was a nap. She walked into the living room and lay down on the couch. She closed her eyes, waiting for the room to stop spinning. Once it did, sleep dragged her under, and she got lost in a dream.
And it was a very nice dream, until she heard a deep voice say, “Jesus, Grace, you left the stove on again.”
Chapter Nineteen
If you ask me, this is a colossal waste of time.” Jack gave his head a frustrated shake when the wind whistled through the cracked windows. “They should just tear the place down.”
An ungodly moan greeted his statement. Sawyer chuckled. “I don’t think the house agrees with you, and neither would your wife.”
“Maybe she just likes the name of the street and pink Victorians. She hasn’t mentioned anything about the house to me.” He hoped she wouldn’t. Because the more Jack thought about it, the more convinced he became that buying the house was a bad idea. And not just because the Victorian sounded like it was going to fall down around them; he didn’t like the idea of being locked in to Christmas.
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“On the off chance she does, I don’t want to get her hopes up.”
“In case you can’t commit to staying in Christmas?” Sawyer asked as they headed through the freshly painted grand foyer.
Yeah. “No, in case the house goes for more than we can afford.” Or more than I’m willing to pay.
Sawyer nodded as he opened the dark-paneled door with its tempered glass inserts. “You might be right. When the bank foreclosed on the place, Madison bought it for a song with town funds. She figures once the renovations are done, she can make a tidy profit. And she’s not the type of woman who’d settle for anything less. She’s been advertising the hell out of the auction.”
Knowing Gage’s wife as he’d come to, if Jack actually wanted the house, he’d be concerned. “She’ll make a profit. She’s got free labor.”
While he waited for Sawyer to lock the door behind them, water poured through the cracked boards onto their heads. Drenched, Jack scowled up at the porch ceiling. “I’m really starting to hate this place,” he muttered as he headed down the steps. He tripped on a loose board and grabbed the banister. The rotted wood broke off in his hand.
“I don’t think the house likes you much, either.” Sawyer laughed as they started down the stone path on the way to their vehicles. “But, hey, look at the bright side, you get to spend time with me.” He clapped Jack on the back. “You coming to the bar for a beer?”
“I’ll take a rain check. I want to spend some time with little Jack before he goes to bed, and Maria’s coming over later to work on the book.”
“I’m surprised Grace agreed to have her work at the apartment.”
“She’s the one who suggested it.” Although she looked like she was sucking on a lemon when she did.
“That’s a pretty dramatic turnaround, don’t you think? I wonder…”
“Wonder what?”
“If Grace’s about-face is connected to how Brandi acted with Maria last night in the bar. She was pretty chummy with her. Which is strange given how protective Brandi is of Grace. Then, and this is where it gets weird, Maria went to the ladies’ room, and Brandi took her empty glass, wrapped it in a napkin, and passed it off to Mrs. Tate. Nell happen to be at that little get-together at your place yesterday?”
“I think so. My wife wasn’t exactly forthcoming when I asked her about it.”
“Before or after you gave her hell about leaving the stove on?”
He’d come home with little Jack, pizza, and flowers to find his wife passed out on the couch and the stove on. Grace had woken up long enough to place the blame for the stove on Skye and Holly. It was when he tucked her into bed that she’d suggested he work with Maria at their place before falling back to sleep. After what Sawyer had just told him, the invitation now made sense.
“Both—she was pretty much comatose. What was in that drink Brandi made them?”
“Kahlua and vodka. I think Brandi might’ve gone a little heavy on the vodka. They polished off a twenty-sixer.”
“Jesus. No wonder Grace was still asleep when I left this morning.” A circumstance that played out in Jack’s favor. He’d been able to stay the night, sleep with his wife in his arms, and have some one-on-one time with his son. Tonight, he planned to talk to Grace about moving back in.
“She had a rough day. She was probably exhausted. Tough break about the Pines.”
“Yeah. Might be for the best, though.”
Sawyer grinned. “Give it up, buddy. You don’t have a chance in hell of changing her mind about the bakery. What you should be focusing on is pulling the plug on whatever plan Nell put in motion.”
Jack ignored the first part of his comment, and said, “Why? It’s not as if Maria has anything to hide. Besides, how much trouble can a seventysomething-year-old woman cause?”
Sawyer laughed all the way to his truck.
* * *
Jack’s cell rang as he started up the stairs. “Hey, I’m on my way up.”
“Maria’s here,” Grace’s whispered over the line, then the apartment door opened.
“Sorry, I thought she was coming around eight,” he said as he joined his wife on the landing. Taking in the pink jogging suit that hugged Grace in all the right places, he decided he’d much rather be working on getting his wife out of her clothes than working on the book with Maria.
Grace leaned heavily against the closed door. “It would’ve been nice to have a heads-up. I didn’t get a chance to clean the apartment.”
“Is there a pillow out of place, a smudge on the coffee table?” he teased, tugging on her ponytail.
Unamused, she pressed her lips together. He lowered his head and gave her a long, lingering kiss. It took a couple of seconds for him to kiss her tension away, then she leaned into him, molding that sweet body to his. As he stroked the strip of warm, bare skin between her midriff-baring top and her jogging pants with his fingers, she shivered and deepened the kiss on a breathy moan. Reluctantly, Jack eased away from her. “I’m going to get you wet.”
“I’m already wet,” she murmured.
“Sorry about… Jesus, Grace,” he said when he realized she wasn’t talking about her clothes. He lowered his forehead to hers. “You’re killing me, princess. But I promise, as soon as Maria leaves, I’ll take care of that for you.”
“If the pile of papers she set out on the table are any indication, you’ll be working all night.”
“Trust me, she’s not going
to be here for more than a couple of hours.” Not if Jack could help it. With Grace’s words playing over in his head, he probably wouldn’t be much use to Maria anyway.
* * *
Jack gritted his teeth as Grace banged another pot in the kitchen. She’d been going at it for the last twenty minutes. “Excuse me for a sec,” he said, getting up from the couch. “You want something to drink: coffee, tea, pop?”
“Wine?” Maria asked, looking up from the computer screen. “All right,” she responded to his pointed look. “Tea, then.”
On her hands and knees, Grace rooted around in the kitchen cupboard. He crouched beside her, waiting for her to pull her head out. When she did, she dragged out another pot and thumped it on the floor beside the others. Her gaze collided with his, and she gave a startled yelp.
“You got something you want to get off your chest, princess?” He kept his voice low to avoid Maria overhearing him.
“No, why?” She reached for the damp cloth hanging on the edge of the sink and went to scrub the cupboard’s shelf.
He closed his hand over hers. “Because you’re making enough noise to wake the dead, not to mention little Jack, and we’re having a hard time hearing ourselves think in there. You were the one who suggested we work here, remember?”
Admittedly, he wasn’t only frustrated with her banging the pots and pans. He hadn’t been happy to discover she’d put his son to bed before he’d had a chance to see him. She’d made it clear she wouldn’t change little Jack’s routine, even for him. If Maria hadn’t been in the living room, avidly hanging on every word, he would’ve had more to say about that.
“I know I did, but I didn’t think I’d have to watch her practically crawl onto your lap and touch you every five seconds.”
“You can’t be serious.” The look she skewered him with said she was. He gave a disbelieving shake of his head and stood up. Grumbling under her breath, she took out her temper on the cupboard, scrubbing viciously.
Jack stepped over her and the pots to grab the kettle off the stove.
“If she takes off any more of her clothes, she’ll be naked. Give her a cold drink instead of tea and open the window,” Grace muttered.
