by JoAnn Durgin
“I’ve got an even better idea.” When Sidney pressed something else on the control panel, the top of the car lifted up and away from them.
“Up, up, and away!” She ignored his cocked brow.
As he pulled the car into the intersection, Isabella waved at a few members of Evergreen Community Church. She slid down a little in the seat. Crabby old Mrs. Wintersby probably thought she’d sold her soul to the devil and was now riding in his car.
“Where’s a pitchfork when you need one?” she murmured under her breath, thankful for the noise of the engine. Why did the expensive cars have to be so loud? “Borrowed or not, Tommy was right. This is one awesomely cool car, but can you eject me if I get on your nerves?”
“Not that I know of, but I haven’t investigated all its features…yet.” Lifting his sunglasses, Sidney glanced at her for a few seconds, waggling his brows.
Isabella grinned. “I’d better be careful then.” She shifted in the seat to face him more directly. “Does Vinnie even know you’ve driven this car up here to Maine?”
“Benito, and yes, he knows.”
“Let me guess. You defended Benito in a court trial and now he owes Sidney Jefferson Prescott, Esquire big time.” Isabella shifted in the seat to face him. “Am I even close?”
“That’s not up for discussion. Benito has my Mercedes in his shop for repairs. It wasn’t ready, so this is what he gave me.” He shrugged and glanced her way. “Would you have refused?”
“I get the client confidentiality thing. And no, I probably wouldn’t have refused, but I hope you’ve got great insurance. Did you tell him you’re running away from home before or after he handed over the keys?”
“Wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. He looks at it as advertising.”
So, Sidney’s earlier statement about how the car was intended to be seen was the literal truth? Point taken, Lord.
Isabella shook her head. “A word of advice? You’d better slow down if you don’t want Hamilton Watters to come after you. Nice man, but he has a habit of targeting out-of-state drivers.”
“If you’re talking about Sheriff Watters, I already made his acquaintance on the way into town. And law enforcement officials need to be more than a nice guy.”
“What’d he clock you at?”
“He didn’t. He pulled me over to ask about the Aventador. Notice I’ve been going the posted speed limit and crawled through town. I wasn’t sure this car could even go that slow, but I’m a law-abiding citizen.”
“Meaning you must have cops in your back pocket?” Isabella waved to a few townspeople who openly gawked at the sight of her in the car. Oh, yes, the gossips would be abuzz tomorrow.
Sidney grunted. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that, Miss No Last Name. You don’t know me well enough to insult me. Meaning I man up to my faults and pay my own speeding tickets. But I didn’t get one this time. Don’t go spreading rumors about the new guy in town.”
“My lips are sealed,” she said. “I like a man who can admit his faults. With a car like this, you must have been a target of New England’s finest during your three-hour drive up the I-95 corridor. Or did it only take you two hours?”
What was it about this guy that made her want to challenge him?
“I’m sure. Okay, my turn. I have a question for you.”
“Go for it.” Isabella waved to Hattie Nelson walking her black and white toy poodles. “Hey, Hattie!” She giggled when the woman’s jaw dropped.
“Why are you working at Mahoney’s instead of hiring a full-time staff while you hone your painting talents?” Sidney said.
She balked. “How do you know about my…honing?”
“I saw an easel in the backroom with a painting sitting on it. Granted, I’m no expert, but it looked like the work of a talented artist.” When she continued to stare at him, he shrugged. “Can I help it if it’s within sight of the front counter? I wasn’t snooping, Isabella. You ask me—and I realize you didn’t—I think subconsciously you’re waiting for a famous painter to come into Mahoney’s and discover you.”
Isabella mock gasped. “And take me away from Evergreen? No way! You have an overactive imagination for a lawyer, I’ll give you that much. That still doesn’t explain how you know I’m the artist.”
“Ever been a defendant in a criminal trial?”
“Of course not. Have you?”
He chuckled. “You’d cave and admit you did it in the first five minutes on the witness stand. At least you’d save everyone involved some serious money.”
“I’d never cave because I’d be completely innocent. You’re kind of nuts, you know that?”
“Without a doubt. I’ll take it as a compliment.” Dipping his head, Sidney lowered his sunglasses and fixed his steely blue-eyed gaze on her. “You’re quite fetching when you’re all fired up.”
“That’s enough of that talk.” Now the man was blatantly flirting? “I haven’t even signed that painting yet. I’m only a beginner, and I could never make a living selling my work.”
“With that statement, you admitted you’ve painted more than one.”
“So? Why should that matter? Stop being such a…lawyer,” she snapped. The unusually warm, early June breeze ruffled through Isabella’s hair, tossing it about so that long, dark strands brushed across her cheeks. She searched the pocket of her jeans but came up empty. Usually she kept a hair elastic nearby to pull her hair into a ponytail.
“If Picasso could make serious money, then so could you. I figure a woman who’s sentimental about a paperweight might be the sensitive, creative type. You understand nuance and…artsy fartsy things like that.”
She smiled. “Did they teach you that in law school?”
“Some of it is common sense. I’m also a people watcher, an observer of human nature. Like I said, that’s a big part of my job. So is playing amateur detective. I’ve also watched Caroline when she’s worked on her jewelry designs at home in Boston. She explained a little about the process. I can’t paint or draw, but I’m thankful there are those who can.”
The Prescott family home in Boston wasn’t just any house from what Isabella had gathered from her conversations with Caroline. Located in Beacon Hill, one of the most historic and exclusive neighborhoods in Boston, the area featured the backdrop of the Massachusetts State House perched on top of the hill. Caroline never boasted, but most people didn’t grow up in homes with servants, tapestries, statues, and marble floors.
“I’m taking lessons from Toby Daniels, a local artist, although he primarily does landscapes,” Isabella told him. “Toby works with Caroline, as a matter of fact. If you stick around long, you’ll probably meet him. She designs the jewelry and he makes the pieces. They’re a good team.”
“Glad to have you fill me in on Who’s Who in Evergreen.” Sidney followed her direction and made a left turn. “There’s a passion inside Caroline that goes beyond merely doing something she’s good at to make money. I admire anyone who follows their dreams.”
“Is that why you’re running away from home, Sidney?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do. This is just my theory, mind you. I realize I don’t know you, but I’m thinking you’ve come to Maine to discover your passion. Since it worked for Caroline, you’re hoping that maybe it’ll do the same for you. To see if there’s something that makes you tick more than the legal system.”
Tapping her fingers on the window ledge, Isabella lifted her face to the welcoming warmth from the sun. Maybe she’d pushed the limits with that observation. Using the word passion might not have been the best choice either. Ditto overpriced and tick. A large part of marketing was capitalizing on key words that garnered attention and potential sales. In everyday conversation? Not such a great idea.
Isabella glanced his way. “Are you searching for that ejector button?”
Sidney was quiet for a long moment. “I imagine you and Caroline get along famously.”
“Yes, we do.”
So, it seemed he intended to avoid or ignore her theory. He owed her nothing, and she shouldn’t have imposed her opinions on him. “I admire Caroline very much. She and Seth are a fabulous couple, and I’m blessed to call them my good friends.”
“Good to know. Where do I turn next?”
“Oh, sorry. Turn left at Conifer Street. It’s two streets ahead. As you might have noticed, most of the streets are named after trees. Pick a tree name and chances are good there’s a street named after it in Evergreen. Once you turn on Conifer, you’ll go for another half mile or so. I’ll show you.”
“Where do my sister and Seth live? The boonies?”
“No, just the high-end suburbs of Evergreen. It’s a fantastic house. You’ll see.”
“I’ve seen photos,” he said. “It looks like the ideal place for my escape.”
She pointed out the front window after he turned onto Conifer Street. “See that”—she brushed hair away from her mouth—“bus stop shelter ahead? Right past that, you’ll veer left at the large fork in the road.”
Sidney didn’t respond, so Isabella waited until he’d steered the car onto the narrow gravel road. “This leads to their house,” she told him. “Stay on this road for another eighth of a mile or so. Then you’ll turn left at the blueberry stand.”
“Quaint.”
“Isn’t it? Just wait. It gets even better. After the blueberry stand, you’ll go about a thousand feet to the peach stand, and then turn right. Then at the corn and tomato stand the Carlson kids set up last week, you’ll take a left.”
“What about the apple stand? Don’t they have apples in Maine?”
“Yes, but apples are celebrated in the fall, especially at the town’s Harvest Festival. After the Carlson’s stand, then you’ll take a quick right at the kissing booth.”
“That’s too precious for words.”
Isabella laughed at his wry comment. “Hey, don’t knock it. That’s a new thing the local teens started every Friday night. It’s quite popular and raises money for the local ASPCA, but the town council wouldn’t allow them to set it up in town due to protests from some of the older, more proper citizens.” She’d affected a haughty tone as she’d said that last part.
Sidney tossed a quick glance in her direction. “You’re serious? There’s really such a thing as a kissing booth?”
“Egoista serious.”
“Huh.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Any eligible ladies around the age of, I don’t know, thirty or so, ever take a turn in that kissing booth?”
Isabella’s pulse skyrocketed. “Not that I’m aware of, no.” She didn’t dare look at him.
“Why? The proper citizens of Evergreen don’t believe in kissing?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know.” She squirmed a bit. “They don’t want to risk the kids getting out of control in the middle of town. You can’t blame them, really. What with all the impressionable children around.”
“Come on, Isabella. It’s summertime. Where’s that adventurous spirit?”
“Welcome to Evergreen, Mr. Prescott. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here.”
He laughed. “I’m sure I will. Are we there yet?”
Chapter 5
Through the beveled glass oval on the front door, Sidney spied Caroline. Barefoot and in jeans. He still wasn’t used to seeing her so casual since their mother and Nanny Regina always dressed his little sister in designer clothes. Her naturally curly, blonde hair was loose and hung well past her shoulders, longer than he’d ever seen it.
She looked good. Earthy, as their mother used to call her. Mountain living obviously agreed with her. Ditto being married and the wife of Seth Barnes, mineralogist extraordinaire. That guy adored her and doted on their little girl. As well he should. Sidney could learn a few things from their solid relationship. He didn’t know Seth well, but the blame for that oversight sat squarely on his own shoulders. The practice had kept him occupied whenever they’d come to Boston. After Mom passed, he’d withdrawn, preferring to deal with his grief privately.
But now? Now it was time to reconnect. Time to figure out some things. Time to get his life right. Maybe it was a mistake to think coming to Evergreen could give him answers. It’d worked for Caroline, so he wanted to try. He figured it couldn’t hurt.
Isabella had been more accurate in her assessment of his motivation than she could know. The woman was almost scarily perceptive. She was also incredibly attractive. At first, he’d been more amused by her, but she was witty, bright, and fun. He could use more fun in his life.
“Sidney!” Caroline swung the door wide. “What are you doing here? I mean, what a wonderful surprise!” She looked radiant, happy, relaxed. Confident and self-assured. The epitome of the suburban mom in the remote woods of rural Maine. Slender as ever, she didn’t look like a woman who’d had a baby only six months prior.
A rush of deep affection surged through him at her warm, spontaneous greeting. Opening his arms, he wrapped her in a bear hug as though he hadn’t seen her in a decade, not four short months ago. Sidney chuckled at her surprised expression as she pulled away. No, it was more than surprise—shock was an apt description.
“It is you, isn’t it?” Cupping his face between both palms, Caroline studied him.
“In the flesh.” He kissed her cheek as guilt seeped into his subconscious. Add horrible communicator to his mounting list of sibling sins. Bryce had always been the doting older brother. Sidney had some catching up to do. Not only because he’d promised Mom before she died, but because—in spite of all his professional success—family was all he really had. Co-workers and friends floated in and out of his life, but Bryce and Caroline were his flesh and blood.
“You’re family, Sid,” she said, reinforcing his thoughts. “You’re always welcome.” Something inside him shifted, making him want to hug Caroline again and not let her go.
Stepping to one side, Caroline peered behind him. “Isabella? Is that you back there?”
Why was Isabella standing behind him? Putting one hand beneath her elbow, Sidney tugged her close to his side. He had no idea why he’d done that, and Isabella appeared none too happy.
His sister gave Isabella a warm hug. “So nice to see you, too. This is certainly an unexpected surprise.” Caroline looked from one to the other of them with obvious questions in her eyes.
Sidney could no longer ignore the wet spot on Caroline’s blouse. He forced his gaze upward. Give him a good court trial and he was perfectly comfortable, but a lactating woman made him squirm like a teenage boy.
And now you’re Uncle Sidney. Since he’d been an adult, he hadn’t spent much time around many kids below the age of puberty. He’d never changed a diaper or rocked a baby to sleep.
Why did he feel damp? Glancing down at his shirt, Sidney barely restrained his groan.
“Sorry. I was feeding Ellie right before you arrived.” Caroline’s lips twisted as she smoothed one hand over the small spot on his shirt. “Don’t worry. You can’t even see it. Besides, it’s breast milk, and—”
“I’m glad you’ve embraced mountain living. Nothing’s healthier for her. I get it. God’s miracle food for babies. No further explanation is needed.”
He ignored Isabella’s soft laughter.
“I was going to say it’ll wash out easily. I can take care of it for you later.” Stepping aside, Caroline motioned for them to enter the spacious home. “Please come in.”
“Oh, wait. I come bearing gifts.” Retrieving the Mahoney’s bag of fudge and the box from where he’d left them by the front door, Sidney handed them to Caroline. More like he held them out with a goofy smile as though he were a kid offering a gift to his favorite teacher.
“What’s this?” Caroline took them from him with a curious smile.
“Chocolate walnut fudge and a paperweight. Both made locally. What more says lovin’? Go ahead and open them now if you want.”
“My brother and gifts all in the same afternoon? I’m not sure what I’ve done to des
erve this.” Caroline stepped inside the front foyer and motioned for them to follow.
“Thank you for having the grace to smile when you said that. I’ll try not to be too big a nuisance.”
Isabella nudged Sidney. “You don’t do this often, do you? The gift-giving thing.”
“Sure I do, but it’s the thought that counts, right? You’ll note Caroline asked what they were.”
“Yes, but it was a rhetorical question,” she whispered. “For future reference, the element of surprise is always a nice touch.”
He abhorred shopping, and his assistant was a saint for doing it for him for birthdays and the holidays. Mikaela knew Caroline’s gift preferences better than he did. Speaking of which, Mikaela had texted him three times and counting since he left Boston, but he’d ignored them on the road. Then he’d silenced his cell phone before going inside Mahoney’s. What was the sense in running away from home if he was chained to the dumb thing? The world wouldn’t end because Sidney Prescott didn’t answer his phone for a few hours.
“Thanks for the tip.” Reaching for Isabella’s hand, Sidney led her inside. Unexpected attraction raced through him at the feel of her hand in his.
With a small frown, Isabella wriggled free from his grasp. Dropping her gaze, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. Was she actually affected by him grabbing her hand? He found that almost laughable yet also sweet, old-fashioned, and…oddly appealing. Hopefully, he hadn’t offended her in some way.
“Isabella was my guide to find the house,” he said to Caroline. “Over the river and through the woods, past all the fresh produce stalls, and even a kissing booth. Left to my own devices, and surrounded by the mini-forest out here in the suburbs, I’m not sure I would have found it on my own before dark.”
After closing the front door, Sidney followed the two women through the front foyer, past the living and dining rooms on the left, kitchen on the right, and then into a family room at the back of the house. Spacious and welcoming, the house was filled with elegant but practical furnishings in jewel-tone colors, wood and brass accents, well-placed art, and family photos. Caroline and Seth’s home boasted none of the priceless artwork, sculptures, and marble floors of their childhood residence, and yet it felt much more like a home than their Beacon Hill mansion ever had.
