“Meaning?”
For a split second, Winnie wasn’t sure Renee heard her. But before she could repeat the question, her friend looked up, the resignation in her green eyes palpable. “Her resentment of you is about to get a whole lot worse.”
Chapter 16
“You’re starting to weird me out a little.”
Releasing her hold on the living room curtain, Winnie turned to find Renee shaking an emery board in her general direction. “I am? Why?”
“You’ve been standing at that window for close to ten minutes now, just staring out at the road like some sort of psycho.” Renee tucked the top of her fingers inward, filed her pinky, and then pointed the board at Winnie again. “I know you two are tight, but are you always this over-the-top with him?”
Winnie took one last glimpse through the sheer fabric and wandered into the kitchen, the approaching five o’clock hour lessening the chance of another rescue call. “Can we not talk about Jay and Caroline for a little while? I think I’m all talked out about that for the moment.”
“I wasn’t talking about Jay.”
Winnie turned. “Then who?”
“Mr. Nelson. You’ve been watching for him like he’s some sort of teenager who’s blown his curfew.”
She started to deny the assessment but, instead, dropped onto the kitchen bench and dug her hand in the bowl of chips Renee had left out after her lunch. “They should be back by now, Renee.”
“If you don’t know where they went, how can you know when they should be back?” Renee tossed the emery board onto the coffee table, whispered something in Lovey’s ear, and then, when the cat jumped down from her lap, stood.
“What did you just say to her?” Winnie asked between nibbles of her chip.
Renee joined her at the table and the bowl of chips. “That I wanted a chip.”
“And she just gets down?”
“That’s right.”
“How come she doesn’t do that when I need to make the bed?”
“Because you’re you, and I’m me.” Renee stacked two chips on top of each other and then ate them whole, grinning at Winnie as she did. “That’s as good an explanation as I can give.”
She rolled her eyes and then steered back to the original conversation. “Even if Greg took him to the VFW hall or to shoot the breeze with his friends at the bingo hall—which is unlikely considering tomorrow is bingo day, not today—they should have been back by now.”
“Maybe they went hiking or something.”
“Hiking?” she repeated. “Did you really just say hiking?”
Renee stopped chewing to match Winnie’s raised nostril. “Um, they’re men, are they not?”
“Mr. Nelson is seventy-five and uses a cane.”
Renee’s nostril returned to its original starting position. “Okay, so maybe they didn’t go hiking . . .”
Winnie reached for another chip, only to grab her phone off the table instead. “You know what? I’m going to call Mr. Nelson myself. See if maybe he needs a ride home from wherever it is he’s gone.”
“He doesn’t have a cell phone, Winnie.”
“Ugh. Right. I forgot that little fact for a moment.”
“Besides, if Greg picked him up, wouldn’t he drop him off, too?” Renee asked.
“Probably, but I’d rather be sure.”
“And they call Mr. Nelson nosy . . .”
Ignoring her friend, Winnie scrolled through her contacts and stopped on Greg’s number. “I’ll just check with Greg.”
“Nosy, nosy . . .”
She held the phone to her ear and silently counted the rings.
One . . .
Two . . .
Three . . .
Four—“Hey, Winnie! I was just getting ready to give you a call.”
Something that felt an awful lot like dread squeezed her chest. “Did something happen?”
Silence gave way to confusion. “Happen? No. Why?”
“Because Mr. Nelson isn’t back yet. And I—I was just getting worried.”
The second round of silence lasted a bit longer. “I take it Renee saw me pick him up?”
“She did.” When he said nothing in response, she swallowed. “Look, I know he’s a grown man and all, but . . .” Propping her elbow atop the table, she dropped her forehead into her hand and sighed. “I’m usually the one who takes him where he needs to go.”
“Hey, I was surprised he called, too. But I wasn’t working so it wasn’t that big of a deal to swing out to your place, pick him up, and drop him off at the retreat center.”
She snapped up her head. “Did you say retreat center?”
“I was curious myself, but it makes sense, you know? I mean it’s not like Silver Lake is overrun with professional magicians.”
“Magicians?” Winnie echoed as she sought to make sense of what she was hearing. She came up short. “I don’t understand.”
Greg took what sounded like a sip of something before answering. “Apparently, Mr. Nelson has always had a fascination with magic—bunnies emerging from hats, quarters appearing behind ears, ladies being sawed in half, and that kind of stuff.”
Reality dawned like a slap to the face. “Wait. Are you saying he went out to that retreat center to see if”—she swung her leg over the bench seat and scurried into the bedroom for her list of suspects, her gaze zipping down the names—“Todd Ritter would do some magic tricks for him?”
“Not do. Teach.”
“And what? He just called this guy and said, Please teach me some tricks?”
“No, we just stopped by the center, asked for Todd’s cabin number, and then stopped out there to see if he was game. And he was.”
Her head was beginning to spin. “Okay, so where is he now?”
“Who? Mr. Nelson?”
She lowered herself to the edge of her bed and tried to get ahold of her thoughts. “Yes. Mr. Nelson.”
“I picked him up about thirty minutes ago and took him into town.”
“To?”
“To grab a bite to eat with one of his VFW buddies before the comedy show at Beans this evening.”
The comedy show at Beans . . .
“Which brings me to why I was going to call you.”
She looked up as Renee peeked around the corner, a worried expression on her friend’s face. Holding up her index finger, Winnie returned her attention to the man still speaking in her ear.
“Mr. Nelson mentioned you’re planning to go?”
“I am,” said Winnie.
“Okay, so I was wondering if maybe we could go together.”
“You’re wanting to go together?” Renee’s answering intake of air echoed around the room, momentarily stealing Winnie’s attention. She forced it back onto Greg as she continued. “To the comedy show?”
“Yeah. When I was overseas, the USO sometimes brought comedians over for us. Half the fun was enjoying it alongside everyone else.”
There was no ignoring Renee’s emphatic nodding unless Winnie closed her eyes. But even with her eyes closed, her answer was still the same. “Yeah, sure, that works. It’ll be fun.”
Then, once a meeting time and place had been established, she lowered the phone to her bed and peered up at Renee. “I was going, he was going—it’s no big deal. Really.”
“Can I do your hair and your makeup?” Renee asked over the staccato clap of her hands. “Please? Please?”
Diving backward onto her mattress, Winnie stared up at the ceiling and groaned.
“What? Consider it my version of a rescue . . .”
Winnie groaned louder. “The only rescue I need is from you and this ongoing campaign of yours to get Greg and me together.”
“Is that so wrong?” Renee bypassed the bed and headed for Winnie’s closet.
Winnie clo
sed her eyes at the telltale scrape of hangers moving left and right across the bar. “When I’m dating someone else and you know this? Yes.”
“I like Jay—don’t get me wrong.” Hanger sounds ceased, momentarily indicating something was getting a once-over. “In fact, I think the two of you are pretty much a perfect match.”
“So then, what’s the problem?” Slowly, she opened her eyes, her gaze moving across the ceiling and down to her friend. “Why are you constantly pushing Greg at me?”
The hanger sounds commenced again—a shove to the left, a shove to the right. “One of these days, we’re going to do a massive overhaul of this closet.”
“We are?”
“We sure are.”
“And that means what, exactly?” Winnie asked.
“Everything gets replaced.”
Winnie had to laugh at that. “Um, I’d need a little cash to be able to do that, Renee. And until we’re up to six rescues a day, I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”
“It’ll happen. We’re adding more rescues every week.”
“True.” Struggling up onto her elbow she watched as Renee paused on a whimsical peach-colored dress Winnie’d actually forgotten she had. “Ooh. That wouldn’t be too much would it?”
Renee pulled the dress all the way out of the closet and held it up against herself. “For an evening out with Master Sergeant Hottie? No.”
“This isn’t a date, Renee.”
“I know that, and you know that. But maybe, if word were to get back to Jay that made him think it was, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”
She sat all the way up and held up her hands. “Whoa. Stop right there. You’re pushing Greg at me so I can make Jay jealous?”
“Not jealous, per se, but maybe something that will wake him up and make him get off the pot, so to speak.” Renee draped the dress across the bottom of Winnie’s bed and then returned to the closet to inspect Winnie’s very limited inventory of shoes.
Winnie dropped her hands to her side. “Meaning?”
“You’re either dating or you’re not.” Renee held up an off-white kitten heel, turned it to the right and left, and then flung it back into the closet. “If you are—then the two of you need to stop this only-dating-when-Scream-Queen-is-otherwise-occupied stuff because it’s accomplishing nothing. And if you’re not—then there’s a perfectly amazing and oh-so-hot specimen waiting in the wings for you as we speak.”
Propelled by yet another groan, Winnie dropped back down onto the mattress. “First of all, Renee, I’m not interested in Greg whether there’s a Jay or not. He’s a great guy, and a good friend, but he’s not my type. Second of all, with that in mind, don’t you think it would be kind of cruel to let Greg think there’s a chance when there’s not? And last but not least, I’ve had my fill of the Caroline situation for the day.”
“You’re letting that kid win.”
“Renee . . . please.”
It was Renee’s turn to groan, only hers carried components of a sigh as well. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Winnie.” Her hand emerged from the closet with a pair of espadrilles. After a closer inspection, she set them on the floor next to the bed. “That kid doesn’t want to share. She’s made that rather obvious, don’t you think?”
There wasn’t anything Winnie could say to that, so she mulled it over in her thoughts instead.
“And now that Hollywood Hag has catered to Scream Queen’s every whim this week, things are only going to get worse.”
Winnie sat up again. “If Jay and I are committed to this, we’ll find a way to make it work. For all of us.”
“You sure about that?” Renee stood and faced Winnie. “Because while I think Jay is a nice guy, my loyalty and my concern is for you. Always.”
“Thanks, Renee, I really appreciate it. But I’m a big girl and I’ll be okay no matter what.”
Renee tapped a finger to her chin and then used it to point at Winnie. “And Mr. Nelson is a big boy. Yet that doesn’t stop you from worrying about him, does it?”
Touché.
Winnie slid up and onto her feet, grabbed the dress, and headed toward the bathroom to change. At the door, she turned and smiled at her friend. “You’re the best, you know that?”
“Of course I do.” Renee paused her primping and posing long enough to point at Winnie once again. “That said, there’s no amount of buttering up or distracting that’s going to get you out of the inevitable.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to regret this question, but what inevitable might that be?” she asked, laughing.
“I’m doing your hair. And your makeup.”
Chapter 17
If the way Greg’s Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat was any indication, Winnie had made a bad call on the dress. Yes, it was cute. Yes, she’d gawked at her reflection a time or two (or ten) when Renee had finished her makeup and hair. And yes, she’d hit Record on her phone so she’d never forget her first catcall as she was walking through the parking lot behind Beans. But until that exact moment, she hadn’t thought about the mixed signal she might be sending the handsome paramedic by wearing it.
Great . . .
“Keep it light, keep it friendly,” she murmured to herself as Greg’s hand shot up into the air and motioned her over to the four-top table he’d secured a few feet from the makeshift stage set up for that evening’s comedy show. At the table, she found her smile and a seat catty-corner from Greg’s. “Look at you, securing a table in front . . .”
“I, uh, got here early enough, I guess.” He pushed in the chair he’d obviously been sitting in before her arrival and moved to the one directly opposite hers. “You look amazing, Winnie. Wow.”
She gave what she prayed was a carefree smile and willed her voice to match. “Renee all but smacked my favorite jeans and cami from my hands when it was time to get ready. She said there are so few events in Silver Lake that I need to take advantage of them when they come.”
Propping her elbows on the table, she rested her chin in her hands and shrugged. “Frankly, I think she just missed her calling in life.”
“What calling would that be?” Greg asked.
“To roam the halls of a prison, smacking inmates’ hands with a nightstick.”
Greg’s eyebrow rose with amusement. “You think Renee should have been a prison warden?”
“That or a stiletto-wearing pit bull.” She straightened up and looked around the coffee shop at the smattering of familiar faces she saw across the top of the display case at Delectable Delights on occasion—folks who used to stop by for a coffee cake on the way to work, or to pick up cupcakes for their kids’ birthdays. “It might sound a little weird, and I’m not trying to get all deep on you, but sometimes, when I’m somewhere like this, I can’t believe how much my life has changed in the past four months or so.”
“You mean with the Dessert Squad?”
“That’s a big part, sure. I mean, if you back up five months, I was spending most of my waking hours just down the road from here—in a place that’s now a pool hall. I baked all morning, stocked my cases, and tried to figure out how I was going to be able to meet the increased rent on the shop. I was so sure my baking days were numbered.” She brought her focus back on Greg and was relieved to see a cessation of movement inside his throat. “Now, thanks to the generosity of an old friend, I’m not only baking, I’m getting to take it to a whole new creative level and loving every minute of it.”
He leaned back in his seat and nodded. “And the other part?”
“Adding you to my circle of friends, adopting Lovey for lack of a better word, and”—she paused—“meeting and getting involved with Jay.”
She watched his gaze drop to the table but only for a moment. When his attention returned, the charged atmosphere was replaced with something more familiar and comfortable. “Think you
can top that in the second half of the year?”
“I’ll be content with status quo for a little while.” Winnie waved her hand at the chairs beside them and then peeked around the room once again. “Any sign of Mr. Nelson yet?”
“Nope.”
“He was okay when you picked him up from his so-called magic lesson, wasn’t he?”
Greg cocked his head to the side, eliciting a domino of sighs from every female in their immediate vicinity. Greg, of course, didn’t notice or didn’t care. “He definitely had a lesson, Winnie. He showed me one of his new tricks the second he got in the car. He messed it up a little, but he tried.”
Again, she surveyed the room and again, she found no sign of her housemate. “He may have learned something but that’s not why he was there.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No.” She waved away Greg’s surprise while swinging her gaze toward the door. “You see, it all makes sense now. He wasn’t asking me if he could help get to the bottom of what happened to Sally Dearfield out at that retreat—he was telling me. And I brushed him off.”
A quick glance back at Greg revealed a note of understanding on his face. “Ahhh, so that’s why he was a little quieter than normal. Maybe even a little sad.”
It was her turn to swallow slowly. But for a very different reason than the attire of the person seated across the table (although, truth be told, Greg looked amazing in a short-sleeved henley that showcased his toned upper arms and chest). Shaking her head at her insensitivity, she followed the motion with a smack of her forehead. “Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. I hurt his feelings.”
“Winnie, he’s a grown man.”
“A grown man who was trying to talk to me,” she mumbled.
“Mind if I sit with you, Winnie Girl?”
Startled, she snapped up her head to find the seventy-five-year-old in question, smiling down at her. “Mr. Nelson, I—I didn’t see you, I’m sorry.”
“It happens.” He gestured his non-cane-holding hand at the chair next to Greg’s and, at their collective nod, lowered himself onto it with the help of his cane. “I’m curious how this fella is gonna react when you start pumping him with questions about his past. People who are hiding things don’t take too kindly to unexpected inquisitions.”
Dial M for Mousse Page 13
