Homecoming

by Lacey Baker

  Hell, he’d even left the house for a couple of hours, visiting city hall and its newest mayor, whom it just so happened he’d met at a conference in Washington, DC, a little more than five years ago. Of course he’d been introduced to her as Liza Palamari, PhD, and she’d been giving a lecture on why it was important to have new legislation on stem cell research. On his first trip to city hall he’d recognized her in the mayoral portraits and made a note to visit with her personally. Today had seemed like as good a time as any.

  Liza was married to Michael Fitzgerald, who instead of following in the family business had shown a talent for painting over any political ambitions. She was an attractive woman, tall and lean, with aristocratic features and a warm smile.

  “So you want me to talk to the town council about back taxes owed on the inn?” she’d asked Quinn point-blank as he sat in her office explaining all he knew of the situation.

  “Here’s the thing, Liza, I don’t think my grandmother would have not paid her taxes. From what my sister tells me, the bills are all paid up at the B and B, so why leave the taxes unpaid? Besides that, fifty thousand seems like a pretty steep amount for two years’ worth of property tax. The interest rate must be astronomical. I also understand that the Kings are looking to sell as much property in town as they possibly can.” He hadn’t come right out and said he thought something fishy was going on but he could tell by the way Liza had nodded that she was following his line of thought.

  “It does sound unlikely. I knew Mrs. Cantrell fairly well and she didn’t strike me as the type of person who wouldn’t pay her debts. Besides, like you said, the inn is doing great business. I can look into it for you, find out if there’s any discrepancy.”

  “Apparently they’ve received a few notices,” he added.

  “And she didn’t pay any of them or call to try to make arrangements? Huh, that doesn’t sound like Mrs. Cantrell,” she’d said.

  No, it didn’t, and after leaving the mayor’s office Quinn was even more convinced that something wasn’t quite right about the way his grandmother had died or the status of the inn.

  That had held his attention for about two hours, but the desire to see Nikki, to touch her, was still as potent as ever.

  If he closed his eyes and inhaled deep enough he could still smell the lemon scent of her hair, taste the softness of her skin, feel the heat of her embrace. She’d taken him to a place Quinn didn’t ever remember traveling before and with a startling revelation he accepted that he wanted to venture there again, and again.

  She was working, he’d tried to tell himself. And yet his feet were still trekking along the carpeted floors, going through one doorway to another until he was right at her office door. She was just hanging up the phone when he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  “Hi,” she said, a tentative smile playing at her lips.

  Quinn wasn’t really in the mood for formalities so he skirted the desk. Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her to a standing position and planted his lips firmly on hers. Her lips parted, their tongues reuniting, heat flashing immediately between them. His hands moved quickly down her back to cup his favorite part of her anatomy in his palms. She pressed into him, moaning softly. The kiss deepened, his body hardened, and he felt dizzy with desire. He was about to put her on the desk and have his way with her when the sound of voices reminded him they were in her office. The office that faced the side of the house where the entrance to The Silver Spoon was located—and it was pretty close to lunchtime.

  Reluctantly and with more control than he’d ever realized he had, he pulled away. “Hi,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

  “Hi again,” she replied, clearing her throat. “You okay?”

  He took a deep steadying breath. “I’ve been thinking about that all day,” he told her.

  “Good.” Nikki laughed a bit as she spoke. “I didn’t want to be the only one of us thinking that way.”

  Quinn did finally remove his hands and took a step back from her. She sat back in her chair, spinning around so that he had space to lean back on the desk.

  It was his turn to clear his throat. “That’s not all I was thinking about. I wanted to talk about business as well.”

  “Oh, really? Are there more questions I need to answer?” she asked him playfully.

  “Actually, there are a couple of things,” he said, folding his arms over his chest so he wouldn’t be as tempted to touch her again. It probably wasn’t going to work, but he needed the pretense.

  “I went to see Mayor Fitzgerald today and we talked about the back taxes on the house,” he began.

  “You just went to see the mayor about this? Why not the town council; they’re the ones who generate the bills?” she asked.

  “I met the mayor before she was a mayor. Actually, before she was even married to Mike Fitzgerald. So I figured I’d just go and see what she knew.”

  “Oh,” she said but still looked a little leery. Quinn couldn’t figure that out and decided it was best just to keep going. “She agrees that it doesn’t sound like Gramma not to pay the taxes. And Mr. Creed had no idea about them, either. I called him yesterday and he said all he knew about was in the will. The new deed to the house is ready for us to sign and there aren’t any liens on it. So where is this tax debt coming from and why is it so high?”

  She bit on her bottom lip, which was kind of cute since he could tell she was thinking about what he’d said. It was also a little bit sexy and had an erection brewing slowly. He swallowed deeply, trying to focus.

  “All I know is the bill came two months before Mrs. Cantrell passed away. I showed it to Michelle first because Mrs. Cantrell had seemed a little preoccupied and we’d both agreed to take over as much responsibility around here as possible to give her some rest time.”

  “Do you still have the bill?” he asked her.

  She nodded. “I do. I filed it over here.” She stood and moved to a file cabinet right beside the door.

  Of course Quinn watched her walk. He loved the sway of her hips, the sweet curve of her buttocks, and the way her feet tilted slightly outward as she moved. She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a folder. When she was standing close enough to him she handed Quinn the file.

  The bill looked official, he thought as he surveyed the piece of paper. But the figures still seemed off to him. He’d paid property taxes in Seattle for the last few years, and even if he’d gone two years his debt would still be a fraction of what this was.

  “You said you and Michelle had decided to take on most of the work around here. Just how much is Michelle actually doing? I mean, I know she runs the kitchen for the restaurant and the guests, but I was wondering about her catering assignments. Do you know anything about those?”

  Nikki nodded. “I sure do,” she told him, returning to the other side of her desk.

  Quinn kept looking at the tax bill even though there was nothing new there for him to see. When he heard her shuffling things around on her desk he looked up.

  She was sliding things from the center of her desk and pulled out a black appointment book that looked much like the one she’d just closed.

  “I keep her schedule, too,” she said. “Right now she has three off-site catering appointments for the month of June. That might pick up as we get farther into wedding season.”

  “She caters weddings as well?”

  Nikki nodded. “Last year we had the Phillips and Crandon wedding. The bridal party stayed here. They married at Sweetland Presbyterian then came back here for the reception.”

  Sweetland had two churches, one Baptist and one Presbyterian. Which meant that unfortunately if someone was any other denomination, they had to travel up to Easton for fellowship experience. There were some aspects of this town that felt small and confining to Quinn. And then there were others, like the golf course and resort and the new restaurant he spied down by the pier that was about to open, that made him feel like they were steadily trying to come into
the twenty-first century.

  “Does she hire additional staff for that or does she use the staff from the restaurant?”

  “Well, the interns usually help out because she actually pays them out of pocket for off-site catering events. Then we all just sort of pitch in. My sister Cordy gets a babysitter and she and I become servers. We work it out.”

  “Hmmm,” Quinn said, rubbing a hand over his chin. That was working for now but he had a feeling that might be changing soon.

  “You do this on your job, don’t you?” she asked. “Supervise, I mean. I can see it comes really natural to you.”

  That was a part of his job at the clinic, supervising the doctors and other staff that worked under him, as well as organizing fund-raisers and soliciting research funds. The latter he apparently wasn’t doing well enough.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Do you like supervising more than you like practicing medicine?”

  “Why do you ask that?” Quinn didn’t want to discuss his job but he couldn’t tell if what she was asking was out of curiosity or if there was some other motive.

  She shrugged. “You don’t talk about your work much. I keep hearing everyone say that you’re a doctor, but you don’t talk about your patients or anything.”

  “For one, there’s patient confidentiality,” Quinn told her. “And for two, I don’t like to bring work home with me.” Which wasn’t a total untruth. When he was back in Seattle he’d always have some reading to do pertaining to work, and on some occasions conference calls that couldn’t be handled during his regular workweek, or meetings with potential donors. But when he’d packed up to come back to Sweetland, Quinn hadn’t brought anything that pertained to work with him, not in his luggage and not in his mind. Until Elena’s call this morning. He’d checked in with her out of habit, not necessarily out of any great concern for what was going on back there. Which should have been his first sign that the situation at the clinic had changed.

  “Do you miss not being at work? Your grandmother said how devoted you were to your patients. Is it hard being here in Sweetland?”

  She’d looked back down at the appointment book as she asked the last question, and Quinn wondered once again what information Nikki was really fishing for. Which was crazy. He had no reason not to trust her, no reason not to believe she was simply interested in his life.

  That’s why in the end he decided to answer her honestly. “It’s not what it used to be. And that’s all we’re going to say about that. Come,” he said, taking her hand and standing so he could pull her up out of her chair. “Have lunch with me, and then we can take Dixi out for a while.”

  “I still have some calls to make,” she said even though she stood and fell naturally into his embrace, looking up at him with that smile he was becoming very familiar with.

  “Take a break. I promise I won’t keep you long. I want to go over and see Mr. Riley later this afternoon.” Quinn was rubbing his hands up and down her back as he talked, loving the feel of her soft body against his, even if they were fully clothed. “We can get us a bowl of soup in the restaurant and then go down by the water with Dixi. I know how much you like it down there,” he teased. The memory of her half naked and dripping wet rising from the river was one of his favorites.

  “Well,” she said, still hesitating and now blushing slightly. “I haven’t seen Sweet Dixi today.”

  Quinn shook his head. “I don’t know why you insist on calling that dog sweet. She’s moody and demanding and—”

  “All things men say about women,” she cut in with a quick laugh.

  “If you say so.” He shrugged, not willing to take that comment any farther.

  “Okay, let’s go. But we have to make it quick.”

  There was definitely something else Quinn wanted to make quick with Nikki, but lunch was the smarter option.

  * * *

  Requesting a quick meal was pointless. It was almost three thirty by the time Nikki had finished having lunch with Quinn, since just as they’d finished Louisa and Marabelle had joined them.

  “They’re coming over,” Nikki had whispered. Tanya had just taken away their empty bowls and refilled their glasses of lemonade.

  “Then we’ll just be polite,” he’d said with a smile already in place.

  “Aren’t you a good-looking couple,” Marabelle said with a jovial look on her face.

  In Nikki’s mind she was the nicer of the two ladies. Always quick to laugh and quicker to compliment than Louisa ever was. Most times she seemed to fall behind Louisa’s shadow and followed the other woman without a qualm.

  “Hello, Mrs. Stanley, Mrs. Kirk.” Nikki was always polite to them, never wanting to give either woman cause to talk about her even though she knew most people didn’t give them cause, but that still hadn’t stopped them.

  “You taking a break from work?” was Louisa’s stiff question, which seemed more like an accusation.

  “We decided to enjoy the soup with the rest of the customers today,” Quinn said.

  They’d taken a seat on the outside deck, which faced the water. An overhead canopy protected them from the sun, but it still was a warm afternoon. Marabelle wore a yellow dress with capped sleeves and the biggest, brightest turquoise flowers Nikki had ever seen on printed material. Coupled with her light complexion, she looked like she, too, could be a ray of sunshine. Louisa’s dress was a little more understated, a pale green color with much smaller multicolored flowers all over. Both ladies wore large-brimmed hats and carried their white gloves in one hand while pillbox purses hung on the opposite wrist. Like most of Sweetland, they were stuck in their own little time warp, resisting change as much as they possibly could.

  “The soup was fabulous as usual. Your sister is a master in the kitchen,” Marabelle said.

  “I’ll be sure to tell her that, Mrs. Kirk. She works really hard at doing a good job,” Quinn offered.

  “Hmph, more restaurants opening up here than we need,” Louisa chirped. “Heard you had a run-in with the law yesterday. They think you killed somebody,” Louisa finished with what was supposed to be a whisper.

  Nikki’s smile faltered. She couldn’t help it. Of course she’d known word would get around town sooner rather than later, but she hadn’t been prepared to face the gossip head-on. After a momentary lapse she squared her shoulders and said, “My lawyer is straightening all that out.”

  Louisa nodded, her multicolored stud earrings catching rays of sunlight. “Your lawyer? Oh yeah, saw your brother heading into the police station when we were on our way over here,” she said, nodding at Quinn. “Guess he’s trying to clear her name while you wine and dine her. Cantrell boys are certainly at it again.”

  “Nikki’s innocent and Preston’s just making sure the police know that,” Quinn told them, keeping his smile in place.

  “But I’m fine, Mrs. Kirk, thanks for asking. I wasn’t worried about being carted off to jail or anything,” Nikki heard herself saying. She kept her gaze focused on the great Louisa Kirk with her beady and assessing brown eyes and overly made-up face. The woman was a witch, dressed like a 1960s matron. She thrived on cutting down anyone she chose for no other reason than that she could, and Nikki was sick of her. Even her own husband didn’t like the woman. The husband who rarely ever left their little house down by the river.

  “Don’t get snippy with me,” was Louisa’s retort. “I thought Odell had raised you better. Then again, you’ve always had your head buried in the sand except when Savannah was around. That one you followed around like a lost puppy.” She again gestured toward Quinn. “Guess she’s following a different Cantrell around these days.”

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Stanley, Mrs. Kirk, I know you ladies aren’t leaving without trying my apple turnovers,” Michelle said as she walked up to the table, touching a hand to Nikki’s shoulders.

  For a second Nikki felt embarrassed. Here she was the manager of this establishment and she was getting into a petty argument with the town gossips whom m
ost people simply chose to ignore. What happened to Miss Personality? She’d taken a lunch break, Nikki thought dismally. But she wouldn’t apologize for her comment; Louisa deserved it and then some. Unfortunately, her mother would probably have a headache by the time Nikki arrived home this evening: She knew without a shadow of a doubt that at the very soonest opportunity Louisa could find, she’d be telling Odell how rude her youngest daughter was.

  “Oh, I love apple turnovers. Godfrey’s sells them in these cute little wrappers. Don’t tell Sam, but I have a couple stashed in the bread box for special occasions,” Marabelle said with a quick laugh that shook her entire body and every one of those bright turquoise flowers on her dress.

  Sam was her husband of about fifty or so years now. Like Louisa’s husband, Granger, he barely left their house anymore. Nikki wondered if either man was still alive.

  “But mine are fresh, just baked this morning.” Michelle teased the woman with a brilliant smile. “The kitchen smells absolutely heavenly with the scent of cooked apples. I can have Tanya bring you out a couple with a glass of iced tea.” The last was said in a sweet voice but was the equivalent of wagging a bone in front of a dog.

  Marabelle’s eyes bulged, her lips smacking as she probably imagined the taste. “Oh, that sounds lovely. We’ll just head back to our table,” she told Michelle. Then she touched Louisa’s arm. “Come on, Louisa, let’s have dessert.”

  “You don’t need any more dessert, Marabelle,” Louisa said, her glare still on Nikki. “But I guess other people do have to get back to work. Wonder how the customers will feel staying in a place run by an accused murderer,” she said as her parting shot.

  Before Nikki could say another word Quinn had reached across the table to take her hand, the one she hadn’t even realized had been shaking.

  “That’s right, have a seat and I’ll send Tanya right over,” Michelle told the two old biddies and watched them walk away.

  “Count to ten,” she said out of the corner of her mouth to Nikki. Michelle kept looking in the direction of the town gossips, a smile plastered on her face just in case any customers were enjoying this exchange.