“It’s worth a shot.” He stood and brushed off his slacks.
I stood and adjusted the neckline of my dress again then started walking catty-corner across the park. Across the street, three women were saying their goodbyes in front of the center. Two of them headed toward the subway. The third began to walk toward us. I came to a dead stop. Victor ran right into my back.
“What the—?” he trailed off as he followed my line of sight to the tall, slender woman crossing the playground.
She was making a beeline for the two of us. Her sky-blue niqab covered her hair and the the lower half of her face. But as she drew closer, there was no mistaking her—it was Helena.
She broke into a jog and then a full run, the fabric of her ankle-length dress and matching veil fluttering behind her like wings. She lowered her veil, threw her arms around Victor’s neck, and pressed her face into his shoulder, laughing and crying at the same time.
After a moment, she pulled herself upright and searched his face. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. Thyme thought you might have made a friend at the mosque.”
Her dark eyes cut toward me for a moment. “I did. Latifah was kind enough to lend me some clothes, and they’ve been letting me stay there. What’s going on? Why are you here?”
Judging by Victor’s weird, squinty expression, he was focusing all his energy on not crying. I cleared my throat. “Gabriel Vasquez was arrested today. It’s over, Helena. You’re safe now.”
Her eyes grew huge. She turned back to her brother, searching his face. “Is it really true? He’s in custody?”
He nodded. “He’s not getting out. The feds here are interested in him for a whole slew of charges. And from what I understand, Brazil isn’t in any hurry to take him back.”
Helena buried her face in her hands. Sobs of relief racked her body, shaking her shoulders. Victor held her and rubbed her back while I stood there like an idiot, an uncomfortable witness to a private moment between siblings. I toed the dirt with my shoe.
Helena lifted her head and wiped her eyes. “How did you know to look for me here?”
“It was Thyme’s idea.”
They both turned toward me.
“We, um, well, we planned a fake funeral for you—to draw Gabriel out into the open. That was my idea, too. Anyway, Cate helped us and—
“Cate? Cate!”
“I know, right? Yes, Cate. She’s super-pissed at you for taking off, but she agreed to help us because Audra loves you so much,” I explained.
“Okay, so Cate helped you convince Gabriel I’m dead. How’d that lead you to me?”
“The Whittier-Clays came to the church. Even though Cate and her husband were in on it, I think they let Audra believe you were dead so she wouldn’t blow it. She saw a nun walk by and said that the veiled ladies at the playground would miss you. And it just got me thinking.”
She raised her hand to cover her mouth and let out a horrified gasp. “Audra thinks I’m dead?”
“I’m sure she told Audra the truth once Gabriel was in custody. Well, I imagine she did.” I glanced helplessly at Victor then confessed, “I don’t actually know.”
“Come on,” Helena said, tugging on her brother’s hand. “I have to talk to Audra. Now.”
I stepped back and held up my hand like a crossing guard stopping traffic. “You guys go on without me. Even after everything that happened, Cate’s still irritated with me for cancelling her session because Gabriel’s thugs were trying to kill us. I don’t want to be anywhere above Seventieth Street when she sees you.”
Uncertainty flashed across her face. “Someone tried to kill you?” She turned and inspected her brother. “Are you okay?”
He hurried to reassure her. “I’m fine. We’re both fine. Those guys have been arrested, too. I’ll get you all caught up.”
“You don’t think she’ll give me back my job?”
“She might. Like I said, Audra adores you, and, for all her tough guy posturing, Cate’s pretty much wrapped around that kid’s finger. But I’d rather go toe-to-toe with Gabriel than be there when you ask. So, best of luck. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
She grabbed me and pulled me into a quick, tight embrace. “I have no idea what you did, but it sounds like I owe you one. So thank you.”
I smiled at her. “You’re welcome.”
She released me.
Victor stepped close to me and took hold of my upper arms. “I want to stay with Helena and talk to her after she’s done with the Whittier-Clays, but I’d like to see you again.”
“I would hope so. You owe me dinner, remember?”
“Trust me. I wouldn’t forget.” His eyes burned into mine. I could tell he was about to kiss me, but I could feel his sister watching us. I shifted away from him.
“Great! See you soon!” I chirped and then took off at a jog across the playground.
24
Three days later
I walked through the lobby of my building, unsteady on my feet in the shoes that Victor had bought. I wasn’t accustomed to such high, strappy heels. I hoped I wasn’t going to wobble all night. My neighbor, Mrs. Katzen, on her way home from her bridge club meeting at the neighborhood senior citizens’ center, gave an appreciative wolf whistle.
“You’re looking good, Thyme. Got yourself a hot date?” She asked in her thick New York accent.
My face turned beet red. “Something like that, Eleanor.”
“You go, girl,” she cackled as she shuffled over to the elevator.
I teetered toward the front of the lobby. As I neared the doors, Victor stepped through them, holding a bouquet of wildflowers with a white silk ribbon tied around the stems. He smiled at me.
“These are beautiful,” I said as he placed the flowers in my arms. I inhaled their fresh, delicate perfume.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find daisies, black-eyes Susans, and sweetpeas in Manhattan?” he said with a half-laugh.
“No,” I confessed. “But it can’t be any harder than walking in these ... things.” I gestured down toward my Loboutin-clad feet.
His gaze traveled down to the shoes. “Well, you look fantastic, but then you look fantastic in yoga pants and running shoes, so it may not be a matter of your footwear.”
I grinned at him and handed him the flowers. “Glad to hear you think so. Hold these for a minute.” I crouched and unstrapped the shoes, then eased out my protesting feet.
“Uh, I wouldn’t recommend walking barefoot through the city. Not even if you’re up to date on all your shots.”
I shook my head and reached inside my purse for my trusty, split-heel foldable ballet flats. “Ahhh,” I nearly purred as I slipped my feet into them.
Even though an elevator car had come and gone, Mrs. Katzen was loitering near the elevator bank, watching us with unabashed interest.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Victor.
I walked over to Mrs. Katzen, swinging the black heels in one hand. “You wouldn’t happen to wear a size eight shoe, would you, Eleanor?”
She eyed the shoes with what can only be described as lust.
“Honey, if you don’t want them, I’ll find a way to make them fit. Believe you me. Mr. Pomerantz will need someone to restart his pacemaker once he gets a load of me in those shoes.”
I pressed them into her hand. “Wear them in good health.”
She giggled like a schoolgirl and then nodded her head toward Victor. “And you wear him in good health, Thyme.”
I didn’t even know what that meant, but I felt my face growing hot again. I gave her a weak smile and headed back to Victor, who was watching the entire exchange with an amused expression.
“Ready?”
“I’m ready now. Let’s go get some Cuban food,” I said, taking back my flowers, and linking my arm through his.
“I’m not taking you to Cuba Libra,” he informed me as he pushed open the door to the street.
“You’re not? W
here are we going?”
He looked down at me and winked. “You’ll see.”
“That’s not fair,” I protested. I stopped walking and stood on the sidewalk near the front of the building.
He cocked his head and considered me. I jutted my lip out into a pout for effect.
“Fine. I’ll ruin the surprise, but our sisters are going to have my hide—”
“Wait. Did you say our sisters?”
He held up his fingers and ticked off names, “Helena, Sage, Rosemary. Then there’s Detective Dave, someone named Roman, Lynn, Mia. And the Whittier-Clays, of course.”
I shook my head. “You lost me.”
“Helena wanted to thank you. I wanted to thank you. And somehow the party just kept growing. So Cate Whittier-Clay offered to host a dinner in her penthouse. She had Maura track down your sisters and arranged to fly them in. Last I saw, your oldest sister was in the kitchen, trying to elbow the Whittier-Clays’ personal chef away from the stove. Sage and Helena were having a tea party with Audra and her bears, and your sisters’ boyfriends were trapped talking to Cate’s husband about derivatives.”
A laugh bubbled up from my chest. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
He stepped close to me and encircled me with one arm, pressing me gently against the wall of my apartment building. He met my eyes with a smoldering look and whispered in a husky voice. “I hope so. Tonight, we’ll celebrate with family and friends. I can wait to have you to myself. We’ve got nothing but time, Thyme. All the time in the world.”
I tipped my head back and raised my chin. My lips found his.
All the time in the world.
Author’s Note
What’s next for the Field sisters? To be honest, I’m not exactly sure. They’ve each solved a mystery and made a love connection, but there’s plenty still going on in their lives. Where are their parents? Will they save the Tranquility by the Sea? Will Herk the Jerk really leave them alone? Are you interested in more from the three sisters? Have any ideas for future adventures? Drop me a line and let me know!
In the meantime, if you haven’t read the first two books in this series, you can pick them up here:
Rosemary’s Gravy
Sage of Innocence
If you enjoyed Thyme to Live, I’d also love it if you’d help introduce others to the series.
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Finally, you can always find an up-to-date list of titles in my Sasha McCandless legal thriller series and my Aroostine Higgins legal thriller series here.
About the Author
Melissa F. Miller is a USA TODAY bestselling author and a former commercial litigator. She has practiced in the offices of international law firms in Pittsburgh, PA and Washington, D.C. She and her husband also practiced law together in their two-person firm in South Central Pennsylvania, where they live with their three children, a lazy hound dog, a playful kitten, and three overactive gerbils. Now, Melissa writes crime fiction. Like some of her characters, she drinks entirely too much coffee; unlike any of her characters, she cannot kill you with her bare hands.
Thyme to Live: A We Sisters Three Mystery Page 15
