Her statement brought a shocked look on Masters’s face. The banker clearly didn’t favor losing business.
“Are there any zoning laws in place?”
The mayor’s face was nearly as red as the banker’s, and the other councilmen looked decidedly uncomfortable. The mayor cleared his throat and took a sip from a glass of water. Then he said, “Serenity has never felt it necessary to have zoning. We tend to regulate those things on our own.”
“In other words, if I wanted to, I could sell to someone wanting to put a zoo on the property?” Emma pressed.
“Now, Emma,” the mayor started, clearly alarmed.
The other councilmen sat up straight and glanced at one another.
Emma thought she heard a chuckle from Sam.
“Sam, don’t you have something to say about this?” the mayor asked, clearly hoping for sane influence from the sheriff. “After all, you own half the Mansi house.”
“Well, like Emma implied, all offers are on the table.”
“A zoo?” the banker asked.
Emma sat down. “Sam, if there’s no zoning law that means we’re free to talk to those people who want to put in a nudist colony.”
Sam seemed suddenly preoccupied with the toe of his boot. The mayor sat with a thud and then hammered his gavel as the buzz of conversation rose in the room. “Meeting dismissed.”
Emma picked up her coat and strode from the council room, ignoring others’ attempts to engage her in conversation, knowing Sam was close behind.
Snow had stopped and the air had a crackle about it. Emma stopped in the parking lot of city hall.
“Let’s get something warm to drink,” Sam suggested, nodding at the stream of people coming out of the building. “I want to hear some of the buzz that’ll surely come from that little scene.”
Emma laughed and turned toward the café.
“A nudist colony? Come on, Emma. You nearly gave Ruth Pierce heart failure.”
“Gold!” Sam turned, as a red-faced mayor threaded his way out of the building. “Hold on—I need to talk to you.”
Sam waited until the mayor approached. With barely a nod to Emma, the mayor pulled the sheriff aside. “What’s going on?” Crane demanded.
“Going on where?”
“In there a few minutes ago. I thought you understood that the Mansi property goes to the city. Arrangements have already been made to move the cemetery—that cemetery and that eyesore of a house aren’t doing this town a bit of good. You get that woman to sign on the dotted line—and soon.” Crane’s face pulsated with rage.
Sam stiffened. “Woman?”
The mayor’s eyes darted to Emma. “That crazy Mansi woman—you know who I’m talking about. The whole town’s noticed how cozy the two of you have gotten lately, but need I remind you your job is on the line here?”
A muscle worked tightly in Sam’s jaw. He stared at the mayor, lowering his tone. “Are you threatening me, Tom?”
The mayor backed off. His tone mollified. “We’ve been associated a long time, Sam. This is your town, and I know you have the citizens’ best interests at heart. Why, the old folk have to take a bus or face a long walk to the doctor’s office because there’s no proper parking. Land developers are eyeing the property. Come election time, they’re going to hold us both responsible—you more than me because you’re half owner of that house! Where’s your brain? This could be a smooth process, but you’re making it complicated.” Taking out a cigar, the mayor fumbled with a match and lit it. He drew on the smoke and then flipped the match aside. “Think about it. Both our jobs are in jeopardy because of that crazy—”
Sam’s stormy look stopped him. “Look, Tom. Emma owns the house; my part is on paper only.” His look hardened. “There’s nothing crazy about the woman, and you come at me one more time with an idle threat and we’ll see whose job’s threatened.” Sam turned on his heel and walked off.
Sam rejoined Emma, caught her arm, and steered her down the walk, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation. “So you like our council meetings?”
Ignoring the question, Emma asked. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing important. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the mayor or Darrel at a loss for words before. That’s almost historic.”
“Zoning was a simple question, requiring a simple answer. Why all that hoopla? And for Darrel Masters to suggest I don’t have the funds to start a business—”
“Do you?” Sam’s scowl signaled her to swallow the words he apparently anticipated. “Not that I have any right to ask, but if you’re seriously thinking of opening a tearoom, finances are a big issue. And now that you’ve put Darrel in his place, he’s not going to be open to an application for a business loan.”
“First, if I did think seriously about opening a business in the house, I wouldn’t be going to Darrel for a loan. He’s too prone to share information with other people, the mayor included, if I don’t miss my guess. I would go to Durango or somewhere else where they understand business ethics.”
“Then you are thinking of staying?” His gaze caught hers and held.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Seated in the café, they drank coffee, carefully avoiding the subject of the future, watching and listening as people drifted in from the council meeting. There was, as Sam predicted, much speculation over whether Emma’s comments about a zoo or a nudist group could in any way be taken seriously. Sam and Emma hid their smiles behind their coffee cups.
“Well, thanks for an entertaining evening,” Sam said as they parted in front of the café, running the back of one finger down her cheek.
“Sorry if I embarrassed you.”
“Emma, you need to decide if you’re going or staying. It’s only fair to the town.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. Kiss me.
“Think about it,” he said, then bent and brushed a kiss across her mouth.
It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do.
Emma watched him stride away, her nerves jangling. Sam Gold was an expert at throwing her off balance.
When she arrived home she wished she’d remembered to turn on the front-porch light that morning before she left. There was nothing as dark as a moonless night, and nothing as creepy as the huge, looming Victorian edifice against a black sky.
She made her way to the front door more by memory and habit now than by any light. She fumbled slightly with the lock. When she got the door open she was greeted with a blast of heat from the woodstove. Emitting a groan of impatience, she left the door standing open to let some of the heat out. She took her coat off and threw it over the arm of the couch. Gismo padded out from the kitchen to greet her, his nails clicking on the wood floor.
“Hey, Gismo. Wish you knew how to operate this stove. I’m tired of hauling in wood to have it burn up while I have the front door open to regulate the heat.” She scratched his head. “You’d think Lully could have had some kind of other heat source put in, but then, she knew how to operate the stove.”
Kicking off her shoes, Emma padded into the kitchen to fill Gismo’s bowl and give him fresh water. She noticed the door to the basement was slightly ajar. She shoved it closed with a frown.
“Good boy, Gismo. I’m glad you didn’t go down there. It’s a mess.” She shivered. Though she’d already gone through many boxes, many still remained. Then there were the attic and Lully’s room.
Suddenly Emma’s head ached and she turned to go upstairs. Tomorrow was another day—a better one, she hoped.
Chapter Eleven
Emma spread the last coat of hunter green paint on the shutters and dropped the brush into a can of thinner. Fourteen newly painted shutters lined the inside wall of the garage, ready to be rehung when weather permitted.
Ray Sullins, who had taken to stopping by the bookstore for the slightest excuse, stopped by the house and found her contemplating the shutters one mild Saturday afternoo
n. He’d graciously offered to take them down for her when she said she planned to paint them. Emma wasn’t sure he was up to the job, but his sincerity persuaded her to accept his help. He knew exactly where the tools were kept. Emma again was struck by Ray’s familiarity with the house and its contents—even more surprised that Lully would allow the informality.
She stretched the kinks out of her back. The remainder of the outside painting would have to either wait until spring or become someone else’s problem. She stared out the garage window at the big house with its ornate corners and fan-shaped decorations on all the gables. Angles and curves and the steep pitch of the roof made any repairs a nightmare. Why didn’t she just sell and have this over with? She loved Seattle—though strangely she was quite comfortable here. The contrast puzzled her like everything else associated with her life.
Stepping back to survey her work, she smiled. Lully would have loved this color. Her sister had favored the dark and exotic.
“That’s very pretty.”
Emma started at the voice of Ray Sullins. The slim man was framed in the garage’s doorway. Wind whipped the fringe of grayed hair that encircled his bald pate. Amber, narrow-set eyes, an odd cross between a gold and green, were fixed on her. A shiver crept up her spine. He unnerved her with his silent approach and soft voice, yet she knew he was lonesome and missed Lully something terrible. He was like a lost pup, standing in front of the house at night and gazing toward Lully’s window with a look of sadness.
Emma’s heart ached for him. “Hi, Ray. Did you need something?”
He stepped into the shed, brushing his windblown hair into place. The space suddenly seemed crowded, too close, and Emma stepped farther back into the lean-to. His gaze swept the shutters.
“You gonna put ‘em back up?”
“Not today. Probably not until spring.”
He nodded sagely. “Too cold.”
“Yes,” Emma agreed. She made herself relax, telling herself that he was interested in anything that happened at the house. She recalled the time he had walked through the front door calling Lully’s name, as if he did it every day. He’d forgotten she was gone. When he found Emma in the kitchen, she was shaking from fright, and his face crumpled with grief. Then he grinned and asked if she had any apples.
She gave him a shiny Delicious apple and ushered him back out the door, asking him to remember to knock next time he visited. His face registered his hurt. “Lully didn’t make me knock.”
Well, that was Lully’s choice. Emma preferred to be alerted when she was about to be invaded. “I’m sure she didn’t, but she’s gone now,” Emma had reminded him, keeping a gentle tone.
When she’d mentioned the incident to Sam, he said he’d talk to Ray, but he reminded her that Ray was harmless. He was childlike and had forgotten Lully wasn’t in the house anymore but from that point on Emma kept the screen door latched. She didn’t need any more scares like that.
Now Ray was studying the shutters as if he hadn’t seen them before. He bit into a shiny red apple, the juice running down his chin. Emma wondered if he’d gone into the house and chosen one from the bowl she had set on the kitchen table.
“What’s you gonna do?”
“Do?”
Emma mentally sighed. She didn’t want to be rude to the strange little man, but she didn’t want him underfoot all afternoon either. She’d raked leaves from the flower beds last week and Ray had shown up. He watched a minute before offering to help. She agreed and then tripped over him every time she turned around. He was eager to help but too often “help” turned into “helpless.”
“I’m going to take a nap.”
It wasn’t exactly a fib. She might. But then, she’d thought about starting to clean out the basement, searching for the deed. She didn’t need his “help” with that, and he’d surely insist on staying if she mentioned the project.
“Lully never napped,” he said, taking another bite of the apple.
“Maybe not nap,” she corrected, feeling guilty about the deception. His guilelessness unnerved her. “I think I might be lazy this afternoon—maybe read. Perhaps sort through a few boxes—“
Ray sent the apple core flying out the door. “I can help!”
Emma released a sigh. “No, Ray. Really. It’s nice of you to offer but—”
His face lit with expectation. “I’m not doing anything. Nothing.” He showed her his hands, palms out, as proof. “See? Through with the apple, and ready to help.”
Blither! Why had Lully been so insistent on telling the truth! If she could have lied she would have avoided the hassle.
Emma floundered for an excuse. Ray wasn’t physically strong enough to carry heavy boxes up the steep stairs. Besides, she wasn’t crazy about being downstairs alone with him.
A short siren burst drew their attention outside. Emma slumped with relief when she spotted the sheriff’s cruiser parked in the drive. Sam got out and saw them, removing his hat and sunglasses as he approached. His dark hair glistened in the early afternoon sunlight. His gaze swept Emma and he smiled. “Ms. Mansi.”
“Sheriff Gold.”
Sam glanced at Ray. “Hi, Ray. I’ve been looking for you.”
Ray’s face brightened. “You have been looking for me?”
“Yes. Thought Mrs. Peabody could use some help carrying her groceries home. Looked to me like she bought a few more things than she intended to.”
“I’ll go help,” Ray said, taking off down the lane at a fast clip. “I’m not doing anything.”
Sam grinned at Emma.
She glanced up at him, then back at the quickly disappearing little man.
“Don’t I get a kiss?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. Some men had more nerve than good sense. “Why?”
“Didn’t I save you from an exasperating afternoon? I think that deserves a reward.”
She had to grin. He’d read the situation correctly. “You’re right. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He has a heart of gold, I guess. But—”
“You’ll have to thank old Mrs. Peabody. She really did need help. Now—” he leaned closer—“how about that kiss?”
“Sure. Tell Mrs. Peabody I’ll kiss her the moment I see her. Promise.” She crossed her heart, and then brushed past him.
He followed her to the back-porch steps.
“Want something to drink?” Emma called over her shoulder. Oh, she wished she’d taken advantage of a kiss but he was being just a bit too full of himself right now.
“Why not?” He grinned in a way that said he knew what was going on in her head.
A blast of heat greeted them when they stepped inside the house.
“It’s like Hades in here.”
“Learn to live with it; I have.”
“You’re in charge,” he reminded, striding toward the front of the house. “You’ve got all the windows open!”
“Yes! Otherwise I’d be cooked by now!”
His chuckle irritated her. Lately the old relic was harder than ever to adjust.
“Come in here,” he called out.
“I’m pouring your coffee! Don’t be so bossy.”
“Emma—”
“Oh, all right.”
He could show her how to work the stove every day for a week, and she’d still have trouble with the vents and damper. Still, she went to the parlor, where Sam was kneeling in front of the stove, his face turned away from the force of radiating heat.
“Come over here.”
“I’m not sure I should.”
“I’m harmless.” He showed her his hands, palms out.
“Stop that,” she scolded. “You sound like Ray.” She felt bad for being so sharp. “He does try to help,” she amended.
“So do I.” Reaching for her hand, he drew her to the stove. “Look, the damper needs to be turned just so.”
“I know what the damper is and that it needs to be set in the right position.”
“Then why don’t you use it?”
&nbs
p; Emma gave him a withering look. “I’ll bet you a chocolate cake you can’t adjust it properly.”
“A chocolate cake?” His brows lifted. “Fudge, with raspberry filling?”
“Three layer,” she promised.
“You’re on,” he mumbled, reaching for the wire knob.
He turned the handle. She waited. Nothing happened. He turned it again. Then again. Then with one finger he reached out and flipped the knob, which spun around crazily.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. He stripped out of his jacket and threw it on the couch. Dropping to his knees, he tested the gadget gingerly, mumbling under his breath.
Emma perched on the edge of the couch, chin resting on the heel of her hand. “Having any luck?”
Without answering, he went to the window and jerked it up another inch. “There’s something wrong with it.”
“No kidding,” Emma shook her head. “That’s the last thing I would have thought of.”
He shot her a sour look. “I’ll call someone to fix it. Let the fire die down tonight so Jim can work on the stove tomorrow.”
“You mean to tell me there’s somebody in this town that specializes in stove dampers? The guy I called can’t be here for another two weeks. Seems there’s an epidemic of faulty dampers in Durango.”
“Okay. So you already knew what the problem was.”
“I might not be familiar with woodstoves, but I do know that when it’s a hundred and five degrees in here there’s a problem.”
He shook his head and she grinned back at him. “Let’s drink our coffee before it gets cold,” Emma suggested.
“In this heat? Not a chance.” He pretended to come after her. Giggling, she took off toward the kitchen, slowing down when he gave up the chase.
“I’ll see if I can get these vents loosened up enough to help with the problem,” he offered, remaining in the parlor to work on the problem.
“Okay, but it’s a losing battle, believe me. Did I tell you that I talked to Janice this morning?” she called over her shoulder as she walked through the dining room.
Lori Copeland Page 18
