“We’re not finished talking. And the one whose feelings I’m concerned about are yours. Promise me you’ll come to dinner. Push aside what’s happened. We can work together to solve this and keep you safe.”
He relaxed his stance and looked away briefly. The side of his jaw twitched, and he rubbed at his eyes before turning back. “When I lost your father, my best friend, my world collapsed. He was the brother I never had. He, your mother, and you three girls were my family. When your mother died, I lost a sister. Daisy and I love you girls as if you were our own daughters. Some maniac is loose in our town. If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. Please Lily, come to dinner tonight where you’ll be safe.”
She took in a deep breath. She had known he was worried, but his slack, reddened face and shiny eyes showed her the magnitude of his concern. “On two conditions. First, I drive myself to your house without Jake in my car. Second, you apologize to Denis.”
He worked his jaw, then slashed his arm through the air. “You win. I suppose I can spare my guy for another hour tonight. I’ll have him follow you to my house, and then I’ll follow you home after dinner.” He smiled, satisfied with his decision. “And I’ll throw an ‘I’m sorry’ at Denis. Promise.”
He reached out his arms for a big bear hug, and she melted into his embrace. At times, he reminded her too much of her father and how much she missed him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and they squeezed each other tight.
“Now, now.” He patted her back and stroked her hair, like her dad used to do. “Everything will work out for the best.”
After the chief left, she splashed cold water on her face and touched up the mascara on her puffy eyes before she dealt with the upset bride. Since she promised to have dinner with the chief and Daisy, she asked Denis to lock up at closing time. The seamstresses would all work until closing.
Breathe. The stress caused her to forget the crucial body function. A few more deep inhalations and exhalations gave her the confidence her shop and staff were safe from harm.
Later on, when she drove up to her house, she sighed. Two cars were parked in her driveway. Two were set bumper to bumper in front of her house, with one of them blocking her driveway. Lily made a K-turn and parked across on the empty side of the street. The young cop following her zipped in behind.
Wind whipped up the bottom of her coat. She studied the dark sky dancing with black clouds. Weather reporters had predicted a storm threat, but the air, thick and heavy with moisture, brought uncertainty about her dinner plans. Maybe they should all hunker down in their own homes tonight.
With Leo leashed up and the cop on her tail, she entered her house. The noise level pierced her ears. Nine elderly ladies gathered around the dining room table, slapping cards down and drinking port out of half-filled water glasses.
The loud chatter ceased when Lily and the cop entered. Upon seeing her in, he returned to his car.
“There’s my girl.” Aunt Bee beamed. She held up an empty glass. “Come. Sit. Chinese is on its way.”
Lily waved off the offer and explained her dinner plans. Then she grabbed a crystal decorative bowl from the corner curio cabinet. “Hand over your keys. No one’s driving home until I get back.” From the sizeable amount of port in their glasses and the full bottles on the table, Lily was going to be the car service to eight tipsy older ladies.
No one moved. They stared at her, their foreheads wrinkled in confusion.
“I’m serious,” Lily insisted. “You can enjoy yourselves and I will drive you all home. Or you can sleep here tonight.”
Confidant that they’d prefer to sleep in their own beds, she passed the bowl around and the ladies lifted their purses from hidden places and begrudgingly threw in their keys. One whispered, “Kill joy” under her breath.
Lily bristled. Like she needed this tonight. These gals might be spending the night either way if the storm didn’t pass.
What a day! First, her blowup with Jake at learning the truth about him. Then the chief’s demanding dinner plans. Next, an inconsolable bride, who had forgotten the sample dress she had tried on had been missing several daisies, hated that her gown arrived with all the flowers. The bride admitted the correct dress had been ordered. Lily told the seamstress to remove the flowers, and the distraught bride radiated again through unnecessary apologies. Brides and canasta playing old ladies she could handle. Jake was another story.
She ran up the stairs to change for dinner and lifted several outfits from her closet. Since she wore black at work, she chose some colorful items. A royal blue sweater paired with her favorite jeans. Perfect match.
The doorbell rang as she yanked a pair of heeled boots from the bottom of the closet. Now what? She ran back down the stairs. No one from the canasta bunch moved from the table. They either hadn’t heard the bell or had, but decided Lily could get there faster, so why bother to get up?
Ever since her sisters left, cautiousness had crept in. With Sam’s and Haley’s deaths, Lily took no chances, even when the bell rang again, she peeked around the living room curtains to see who might be at the door. The cop car stood empty. A uniformed officer rapped again. Cautiously, she opened the door.
The young cop spoke through the glass storm door. “Sorry, Miss Lily. Chief needs me down at the lighthouse. Some storm chasers have set up tents waiting around for the next big one. They’ve got a bonfire going. Reporters are down there filming. Chief needs all man power to send them packing. Fire Department heading down before fire catches on to the brush. Chief ordered you to stay put. Dinner’s going to be late.”
The cop took off, and Lily slammed the door in a huff. More orders! Fuming, she clamped her lips together so she didn’t scream out with frustration. When she turned about, nine sets of eyes stared at her. “What?”
Aunt Bee spoke. “Why don’t you have some port? It will help calm your nerves.”
“Thanks, but no. I need a clear head.” She went back upstairs and changed. She’d be ready for dinner when the cop came back. The Chinese food soon came and after eating half an egg roll since she was starving, she went to the home office to catch up on emails. A few minutes later, the shrimp and broccoli called her name, and Lily went back to sample more.
The chatter had died down and a serious tone subdued the card-playing bunch.
The back of her throat tensed, and her eyes darted from one lady to another. “What’s wrong?”
“Mary’s not feeling well, poor dear. She wants to go home, but you have her keys. Port doesn’t go well with Chinese food, we’ve discovered.” Aunt Bee padded her lips with a napkin and belched discreetly.
“Why don’t you lie down upstairs, Mary? Some water and antacids might help.” Lily moved to get her a glass.
Mary, the oldest of the group, well into her nineties shook her head and her lips quivered.
“Mary doesn’t do stairs well. She had a hard enough time getting into the house.” Aunt Bee patted Mary’s hand.
Lily didn’t hesitate, recalling the impending storm. Better now, than later. “All right, I’ll drive her home.”
“You’ll have to take Mary’s car because she doesn’t feel comfortable getting in and out of vehicles,” Aunt Bee said.
A sigh escaped from Lily’s lips before she could mask her irritation. She forgot that Marge, Mary’s sister, chauffeured Mary around in her own car ever since Mary stopped driving a couple years back. The sisters moved in together then too.
The chief had ordered her to stay. Not that she wanted to follow orders. In fact, she was irritated that he had, through the young police officer, told her what to do, even if he had had good intentions. When she agreed to drive Mary home in Mary’s car, Lily wasn’t being obstinate, but practical. Marge had had a least two glasses of port and from the looks of her third poured glass, wanted to stay.
“Marge will spend the night and will drive Mary’s car back tomorrow. The rest of the ladies are cut off. They will be okay to drive in a few hours or will sleep over too,” Aunt Bee promised before taking another sip of her wine.
After hearing that, Lily went into the kitchen where she hid the bowl of keys, stuck her hand in, and grasped the three-inch keychain with a picture of the Florida panhandle and Mary’s name in the middle.
By the time all the ladies said good night and Lily helped Mary down the stairs and into her car, an hour had passed.
Lily’s stomach rumbled, and her cell phone down to its last bars told her the time was seven-thirty. Dinnertime. Now she was glad she finished that egg roll and had a few bites of the other food the ladies had ordered.
She familiarized herself with the ancient vehicle, which was at least fifteen years old, but in good condition. Mary kept the car in her garage most of the time, and the odometer flashed minimal mileage.
Lily clung to the steering wheel. Mary held her hands near her stomach but gave a wistful smile. “Thank you, dear.”
Lily smiled back before she maneuvered away. As she drove, the dark streets lit up where the streetlamps shone. No rain yet, but she held the steering wheel steady against the fierce wind. A few minutes later, Lily glided into Mary and Marge’s driveway and helped Mary into her house.
Mary went into the bathroom, put on a housecoat, and hunkered down in her favorite motorized recliner. Lily brought her a tall glass of water, some pink stomach medicine from the bathroom cabinet, handed her the TV remote, cordless phone, and a blanket. Those, plus a couple of pill bottles located on the little table next to the chair were all the items Mary might need.
“Can I get you anything else? A pitcher of water?”
Mary shook her head and pressed the remote for the chair and reclined backwards. “I’m fine. I sleep in my chair most nights and have all I need on my table. You’re a doll. Go on home now before the storm hits. I’ve got my favorite game show to keep me company.”
Lily locked the door on her way out, hoped for Mary’s sake they didn’t lose power during the storm, got back into Mary’s car and cruised down the street. She made the trip halfway home when the engine sputtered and conked out as she veered off toward the curb of the side street.
“Now what?” Lily shouted as she checked the car’s warning lights. Nothing. A full gas tank light blared at her. Did the engine lights even work on this old clunker?
Lily jumped out of the car with her cell phone and used the flashlight feature. The phone beeped indicating little charge. She aimed its light at the street behind the car and shifted a few steps from where she had driven. No leaking trail of engine fluids.
Suddenly, the light dimmed then vanished. Great. No cell phone. She climbed back in the car to grab her car charger. Crap. No charger. Fabulous.
When the cop protecting her returned, with her car at her house, he would assume she was too. Who knew when dinner at the chief’s would take place, if at all? The chief had his hands full with the nonsense at the lighthouse. The port-drinking ladies might lose sense of time and not notice she was gone longer than usual. And of course she banished Jake from her life and demanded he not contact her. No one would figure out she was stranded until hours later.
The night’s chill coursed its way through her thin jacket. She bit her lip and reprimanded herself that she should have worn her heavier jacket.
Lily searched for movement of anyone nearby that could offer assistance. She knew the neighborhood well. Most of the homes on the block were empty, waiting for ‘weekenders’ or the next round of summer rentals. Her best bet would be to start walking toward the main road. She might be able to flag down a car or find a restaurant open.
Hairs on the back of her neck rose. She slipped her cross-body bag on and peeked over her shoulder. She gulped. Nothing moved, but she had that weird sensation again. She was being watched.
With one eye on her surroundings, she popped the trunk, fished out the tire iron, locked up the car, and rushed toward the main road, all the while listening for strange noises, ready to pounce with the cold metal bar in her freezing hand.
Why would the car die on her? Maybe she was being paranoid. The car had issues. That’s all. There was a simple explanation. Or maybe someone followed her and put sugar in the gas tank. That would stop an engine, right? Or maybe they loosened a wire. Weddings and brides she knew about. Cars zilch.
Clueless as to whether someone tampered with the vehicle, she swept around, the iron tight in her hand ready to strike. No one. The streetlight illuminated her stance. She let out a nervous giggle at her Charlie’s Angel shadow. Okay, maybe she was fearful for nothing.
She picked up the pace, her feet throbbed and her fingers ached with numbness from the cold by the time she reached the main strip of town. She trudged down the road hoping to find a sign of life. The ocean crashed against the shore. The gusty wind stung her face. Every few steps she whipped around to survey the area. She wouldn’t allow someone to catch her off guard this time.
Not one car had driven by.
Lily guessed the time must have been about eight-thirty and people were snuggled on sofas, cozy in their living rooms, watching whatever came on the television with weather reports interrupting their programs.
Year-rounders appreciated the autumn silence. At the moment, Lily found the deadness of the neighborhood unappealing. She brought her head up, blinking back frozen tears, a combination of the wind and wishing she were home warm and safe and knocking back a few glasses of port with the canasta ladies. After she read the street sign, Lily huffed. “A few more blocks. Then I’ll be at the shop. I’ll call Denis. He’ll pick me up.”
Her teeth chattered and her shoulder muscles clenched as she shivered. She increased her pace and choked up when she saw the lit-up sign of her shop.
At the front door, she peered around and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she stuck the tire iron between her knees and fumbled around in her compact bag. No keys to her shop. She had left them at home in her other bag. Crap. Crap. Crap.
Should she take a chance and walk to the restaurant a few more blocks away? Frozen as she was, Lily worried they may have already closed. The local businesses that were opened year-round, had off season hours. And with a storm coming . . . her blueish fingertips protested, and she made up her mind to stay put.
She carried the tire iron to strike the window of the storm door, but the solid door would be locked too. Not the best idea. If she smashed her office window in the back of the store, the alarm would go off. Could she climb in and disarm the system before the signal went to the monitoring station? If not, the company would call her cell, and since she couldn’t answer, they would notified the police. The chief would be worried, and one or more of his police officers would respond. They were already spread too thin.
She ran around back and viewed her office window. When she lifted her arm to smash the glass, a metal clang whacked against the building.
“What the hell?” She turned, the tire iron still raised. The storm door to the bait and tackle shop swung open in the wind. She studied her surroundings. Nothing moved in the alley behind the shops or in the homes on the side street nearest to the beach. They were dark, closed up for winter.
She crept toward the open door and held up the tire iron ready to strike anything or anyone that stirred. With each gust of wind, the door slammed against the building. Annoyance grew with each step she took. The shop wasn’t a real venture for Jake, but couldn’t he have been more considerate and locked the door? She touched the cold vinyl siding. Her fingers slid into an indentation where the door handle landed with each swing.
The office window was left open a couple of inches. She stopped. Jake had installed an alarm system. He would have come by straight away if he had been alerted of anything suspicious
. That meant the window wasn’t monitored.
Why was the window open? Could someone be inside? Doubtful. The alarm would have been triggered by the motion detectors. Jake must have cracked the window open to bring in fresh air and then forgot to close the sill. She sighed. Everything made sense now. Since the shop wasn’t a true business venture, Jake wouldn’t even consider the storm and the damage water would do if the floor and other things got wet.
Taking extra precautions, she listened through the opening and heard nothing. Confidant she was alone and hopeful the landline worked, she put the iron between her thighs again, wiggled her fingers under the sill, and pushed up. The window didn’t budge.
No choice. She’d have to shatter the glass. The desk was about three feet from the window over to the right. She’d have plenty of room cleared to jump in. With increased conviction, she held up the metal rod. If the phone was not in service, she could crawl through the shared attic space, as unappealing as that sounded, and use her own office phone.
Now that she knew the truth about the shop’s ownership, guilt never crossed her mind. Lily took off her jacket, and her upper body protested at the contact of bitter cold air, but things would be a lot worse for her if sharp shards torpedoed when she broke the window. She wrapped the jacket around her head and neck best she could and prayed she didn’t cut a major artery. Before she could change her mind, she turned her face away and slammed the tire iron against the old glass. Slivers flung in the air and clattered on the concrete.
A couple of seconds flew by, and when no pain emerged, she shook the jacket off and touched her arms and neck. No noticeable wounds. She used her jacket to get rid of the rest of the glass and cover the ledge, then hauled herself in, landing ungracefully, but on her two feet.
Forever Hold Your Piece (The Becker Sisters Bridal Series Book 1) Page 23
