When the Stars Fall (The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series Book 2)

by Willis, Becki

  ***

  Brash felt Madison stiffen, even as he sensed the presence of others. He tried to bite back the irritation of being interrupted. Maddy had been on his mind for days now; weeks, if he were being honest with himself. Ever since he saw her again for the first time in twenty-odd-years.

  He had spent several restless nights since then, thinking about his botched attempt at a kiss; wondering what would have happened if he had been successful, dreaming about what she would taste like, what she would feel like in his arms. He had always known she had a crush on him back in high school, but he had foolishly taken her feelings for granted. He had thought about dating her back then, but somehow never got around to it. Soon life took them down opposite paths and he all but forgot about the tall, slim brunette, until suddenly she was back in town, and in trouble. She not only discovered a dead body, but someone tried to kill her. Twice. He almost lost her, before he hardly even found her again.

  A frown creased Brash’s handsome face as he dropped his hand and turned to see the object of her attention.

  A couple stood in the doorway behind them. Something about the lean muscled man —maybe the groomed but shaggy eyebrows, the deliberately casual cut of his hair, the designer label on his blue jean jacket—suggested an air of wealth; something above a day laborer, at any rate.

  His eyes traveled behind the man, to the woman standing at his back. She was an attractive blond with modest curves beneath her bold red outfit. Judging from their distance apart, the couple was more likely business acquaintances than lovers. The assumption was confirmed by the fleeting expression in the man’s eyes when he looked at Madison.

  Brash didn’t know who the man was, but he had no right to look at Maddy like that, not his Maddy. He ignored the little voice that reminded him she wasn’t his to begin with.

  Before Brash could mark his territory, the other man spoke. His words were as stiff as his movements. “I didn’t realize you were expecting company, Mrs. Reynolds.”

  “I-I wasn’t. He’s not,” Madison stammered. “Company, that is.” She added the last lamely, as she realized she was making a fool of herself in front of both men now, at the same time. It’s so much more efficient this way, a sadistic voice said in her head.

  Why was Maddy acting so guilty? Brash wondered. You would think they’d been caught making out. Which, he acknowledged, wasn’t at all an unpleasant thought.

  Brash stepped forward to instinctively shield her body with his as he extended his hand. He introduced himself in his ‘official’ voice, the one reserved for exerting his authority. “Brash deCordova, Chief of Police here in The Sisters.”

  “Nicolaus Vilardi.”

  Brash appreciated the way the man used a firm, confident grip to shake his hand. He looked the lawman straight in the eye, something many men were too intimidated to do. Nicolaus Vilardi came up a few notches in Brash’s esteem.

  Moving aside to make room for the woman behind him, the dark haired man swept an arm in her direction. “And this is my producer, Amanda Hooper.”

  “Ma’am.” Brash nodded in polite greeting as he took her hand, noting the unusual violet color of her eyes.

  She darted a nervous glance at Madison as her hand lingered in his. “We do have permission to be here, don’t we?” She looked back at Brash, her eyes dropping to the police insignia embroidered on his jacket.

  “What? Oh, yes, of course!” Madison laughed in understanding. “Brash is … a friend.”

  “Brash. Brash deCordova.” Nick tried out the name on his tongue as recognition dawned in his eyes. He nodded as he wagged a finger at the officer. “You played for Texas Tech, then went on to the NFL before coaching college ball. I knew I recognized that name!”

  Brash gave a self-conscious laugh. “Careful, you’re telling my age now.”

  “I remember that game you had against Alabama. Your team was down by 30 points at the half, but you came out throwing in the third quarter and went on to lead the upset of the season. Man, that was a great game!”

  “It was, at that,” Brash agreed with a whole-hearted smile. “So what brings you to The Sisters? And did you say Miss Hooper is your producer?” There was no ring on her finger, so he assumed ‘Miss’ was the correct title.

  “We’re here with our syndicated cable show, Home Again. And yes, Amanda is my producer and the main reason our show is such a success.” The smile he gave the woman was generous and sincere, and caused new ripples to work through Madison’s stomach. Nick’s forehead scrunched in a scowl as he belatedly added, “But why does everyone keep referring to this as The Sisters? I thought we were in the thriving metropolis of Juliet, Texas.”

  “Sister cities,” Brash explained, giving him the short version. “This side of the tracks is Juliet, the other side is Naomi. Collectively they are known as The Sisters. But what’s this about your TV show?”

  “Miss Baker called us to take a look at this magnificent house.” Nick glimpsed around and frowned. “Where is she, by the way?”

  Amanda remembered exactly where she was. “The dining room,” she reminded her colleague. “Shall we go find her and tell her our decision?”

  Nick glanced at the man in uniform before sending Madison a quizzical look. There were multiple questions in his gaze.

  Was it all right to discuss their deal in front of the officer?

  How close of a ‘friend’ was he?

  And why, his gaze demanded, had she reacted to his touch so passionately, if she was involved with another man?

  The curious light in his eyes darkened into mild accusation. His look challenged her to define her relationship with the lawman, right then and there.

  Brash felt Madison stiffen once again.

  Before she even spoke, he knew she was dismissing him.

  ***

  Madison looked up at Brash, begging him to understand with silent eyes. “Brash, I appreciate you stopping by, but everything is fine here.”

  “You’re sure?” His voice was low and intimate. He studied her long enough to make her squirm.

  Could this be any more awkward? Madison inwardly cringed. Both men were watching her, waiting for her answer.

  The air between the men stirred with challenge. Nick Vilardi’s earlier admiration of the football player fell flatly to the floor. She could all but see Brash’s hackles rise.

  “We just have a bit of business to discuss,” she told him. She refused to look Nick Vilardi’s way. Even across the room, she could sense his air of victory. Not stopping to think her actions through, she put a hand on Brash’s arm and blurted out an awkward invitation. “Why-Why don’t you come by the house later? For dinner. Lucy Ngyen brought fried rice.”

  For some reason, the Vietnamese woman thought she had to feed Madison’s family now. Every few days she brought something by the house, some offering of thanks for Madison’s part in freeing her son. Today she delivered a huge portion of rice to the dealership, adding another unexpected detail to Madison’s day when she had to drop it off at home before going to the game.

  Brash declined the invitation with a note of regret in his voice. “I can’t tonight.”

  Oddly enough, Madison felt a rush of relief. She wasn’t ready to start a relationship with anyone right now, and certainly not one spurred by foolishness. What did it matter what Nick Vilardi thought? She owed him no explanation.

  Her relief was short-lived when Brash asked lowly, “Rain-check?”

  She jerked out a nod, dropping her hand from his arm. “I’ll talk to you soon,” she promised, but her eyes did not quite meet his.

  Even as Brash said polite goodbyes to Nick Vilardi and his pretty producer, Madison turned abruptly and hurried from the room.

  ***

  “I’m counting on you, Shilo Dawne.”

  Madison caught the last of her friend’s conversation as she entered the dining room. She watched as Genesis hit the ‘end’ button with a frown.

  “Trouble at the café?”

  �
�The entire town. Make that plural, as in towns.” With an exaggerated sigh, Genesis elaborated. “Louise Crowder saw the Home Again van pull up at New Beginnings. So did Molly Schubert and Delores Morse. They were also watching as you came out of the café—and, I quote—‘clinging to that handsome carpenter like a vine to a brick building’. They are convinced the show came to do a feature in Naomi, but you somehow hijacked them and convinced them to explore the fairer city of Juliet. The three of them plus three customers from the pharmacy came marching across the street, demanding to know how you managed to snag the TV show away from Naomi and why someone at the restaurant, presumably myself or Shilo Dawne, did not stop you. In the meantime, Tanisha Dewberry and Latricia Jefferson passed the van as we turned onto Second Street, and they immediately called Jimmie Kate Hadley, who just happened to be in the café drooling over Cutter Montgomery. When he heard all the commotion and the buzz about the famous TV star, Cutter got disgusted and walked out without paying his bill; but, of course, I’m hardly worried about that. There does, however, seem to be a mild riot taking place at the café as we speak, and I am afraid to look out the front door. I hear the van is already surrounded by gawkers and curious residents from both sides of the track.”

  Madison stared at her friend, mouth agape with fascinated horror. She had forgotten how quickly news traveled in a small town. She managed a small chirp. “I hijacked them?”

  “Don’t look so wounded.” Genesis hooked her arm through her friend’s. “You can’t take this personally. It’s just a bunch of busy-bodies, stirring up trouble between the towns again.”

  “But I had nothing to do with all this!” Madison’s voice was borderline shrill. First the mean trick she pulled on Caress Ellingsworth yesterday, then the fiasco with Brash and Nick, now the ire of half the town of Naomi. Hardly her finest week.

  “Of course not,” Genny murmured soothingly. She threw a glance overhead. “Have they come down yet?”

  The answer came through the door before the words could die away. Amanda chuckled at Genny’s eager anticipation. “From the third floor? Yes. Off the cloud? No. Nick is still floating around on number nine.”

  Nick offered a dimpled and charming smile. “Guilty as charged.”

  “So what is the verdict?” When Genesis squeezed her friend’s arm with a nervous pinch, Madison knew she was not as cool and collected as she sounded.

  “This is an amazing home,” Amanda stated the obvious. Her hand moved lovingly over the mural once more, her eyes taking on an enamored glow. She visibly forced her attention away from the story on the wall as she turned to the women with a bright smile. “And we think it would be a wonderful addition to the Home Again line-up!”

  Genny squealed in delight and clapped her hands together, skewing Madison’s arm into an awkward angle as she did so. As Madison disentangled herself from her friend, she wore a pragmatic wrinkle on her brow.

  “Mrs. Reynolds?” Amanda asked in concern. “You don’t seem as pleased as I thought you would.”

  Nick Vilardi merely watched her, his own forehead crinkling.

  “Please, call me Madison. And of course I’m pleased. I’m just … cautious. How much money will I be out-of-pocket?” These days, it seemed everything came down to money.

  “That’s a very fair question, and one that is more in Nick’s line of expertise than mine. Nick?”

  The carpenter took a step forward at her invitation. “At this point, I only have very rough estimates, of course. The first order of business will be to see how sound the foundation is; that in itself could be a deal-breaker. Then we would need to draw up a design of the finished product and get estimates for supplies. I can have a very crude estimate by tomorrow, but it will take at least a week to get a better idea of actual costs and to check out the foundation.”

  “But you have a ball-park figure.” It was a statement, not a question. “You must have some idea of how much it will cost to renovate this house.”

  He appreciated her direct approach. He knew the figure would make her intriguing hazel eyes cloud with worry, but he would not sugarcoat the truth. “A full restoration could climb into the hundreds of thousands,” he told her honestly. “If this were to be a museum, or to maintain the home’s full historical value, the costs could be staggering. But I understand this is to be your family’s home, and it needs to be functional for a modern family. Assuming the roof and the foundation are in sound shape, if we gut and remodel the kitchen, keep re-modeling on the second and third floors to a minimum except for adding bathrooms, paint inside and out and replace rotting boards, and bring the plumbing and wiring up to code, I think we could safely put the estimate at just over one hundred thousand.”

  Madison regretted having loosened herself from Genny’s grip. She grabbed for her friend now, needing the support as the astronomical numbers swirled around in her head. She gave a short, humorless laugh. “Surely you’re kidding.”

  “I know it sounds rather low, but I think we can pull it off,” Nick said with enthusiasm.

  “Low? Low! You think one hundred thousand dollars is low?” Even to her own ears, Madison’s brittle voice sounded shrill. She did an abrupt about-face. “I’m sorry.” She threw up her palms and waved them in denial. “It seems we have wasted your time. I apologize for the inconvenience, but this entire idea is simply ludicrous. There is absolutely no way—no way!—I can possibly afford to have this house re-modeled.”

  She started to walk away, but Nick Vilardi’s hand, warm and tingle-inspiring, even now, shot out to stop her. “Please, don’t go,” he said in beseech. “You did not let me finish.”

  She waited without saying a word.

  Still holding her arm, Nick gave her a pleased smile.

  “The show is prepared to cover half the costs of renovations, meaning your part would be just over fifty thousand. In fact,” he darted a brave glimpse at his producer, daring her to contradict him, “I’m certain I can promise you a firm fifty thousand and not one penny over.”

  “Barring that the roof and foundation are in good shape,” Amanda quickly pointed out.

  Madison shook her head adamantly. She felt the despair welling inside her, the feeling all-too-familiar. She had heard similar words, similar numbers, right before the bank threatened to foreclose on her home in Dallas. If she could produce a lump sum to appease the Board of Directors, they would renegotiate the terms of her loan. She could stay in the home she and Gray shared with their children. The problem was, coming up with that kind of cash was no more realistic today than it had been three months ago.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her arm free of his hold. “That may be a very generous offer, but it is still out of the question. I simply don’t have that kind of money.”

  “How much do you have, Mrs. Reynolds?” Amanda asked in a clear, direct voice. It echoed in her candid eye contact. “I want you to know we are very interested in this house.”

  Madison’s brows drew together. “You don’t understand. This isn’t some ploy on my part to get a better deal. I do not have the money.”

  “Again I ask. How much do you have? How much can you invest in the restoration of this home?”

  It was hard to squeeze the words past the tears that thickened her throat; harder, still, to squeeze out the truth. “Nothing,” Madison whispered in a raw voice. Shame gathered in her eyes in liquid form. “I have no money at all.”

  She ran from the room, needing to put distance between herself and the brief but beautiful dream of restoring the Big House. What had she been thinking? What had Genesis been thinking? She had no money, absolutely no money at all! Not even enough to buy the house at a bargain, much less restore it. It had been a foolish, hopeless dream.

  Madison threw open the front door and ran down the cobbled walk, her eyes downcast as she maneuvered the uneven stones. She shielded her eyes as she ran, trying to keep the tears at bay. When she reached the gate, she struggled with the latch. Her hands were too unsteady to open it.
As she haplessly rattled the latch back and forth, she became aware of the buzz of voices around her.

  With startled eyes, Madison looked up at the small crowd assembled around the Home Again van. A dozen curious faces stared back at her as a hush fell over the crowd.

  The gate swung suddenly outward and she stumbled forward. It was the only catalyst needed to take the crowd off mute. A dozen voices buzzed again, all full of questions, some with accusations. Madison stood on the sidewalk in utter shock, even as the more aggressive onlookers surged forward and their excited tones took on a menacing note.

  Brash swooped in to rescue her. With a strong arm flung around her waist, he literally dragged her forward and away from the crowd. In a move normally reserved for fleeing reporters and paparazzi, Brash opened the front door of the police cruiser and quickly tucked her inside. He demanded the crowd stand back. He jogged around to the driver’s side, slid inside, and whisked Madison away, just as Genesis and the Home Again duo stepped out of the mansion.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Oh. My. Lord.”

  Stunned, Madison sat back against the seat of the police car. If she had the energy, she would slap her face with both palms. She made a half-hearted attempt anyway. Her hands fell limply to her lap, pulling her mouth into an odd sag as they traveled downward.

  Hysterical laughter welled up inside her. It came bubbling out, mixed with the tears from earlier. “I-I can’t believe this town! What was I thinking, planning to live here permanently? This-This place is unbelievable! They were like vultures back there!”

  Brash frowned, throwing a glance into the rear view mirror. The crowd swarmed forward, already forgetting about Madison the moment they caught a glimpse of the television star. Putting thoughts of the simple-minded mob aside, he zeroed in on what she said.