“Of course he felt the electricity too. He couldn’t possibly be immune to our connection,” she said out loud. That was when he opened the door and smiled at her, then looked around.
“Were you talking to someone?”
“Oh…yeah…on my cell phone,” she adlibbed and stepped into his home, passing close by him. She took a deep breath and smelled his clean crisp maleness. He was dressed in a white shirt and dark pants, but without the tie he’d had on that morning. She loved his look. She loved everything about him.
She walked to the center of the room and turned to look over the place again. Her heart gave that flutter. She took one more calming breath and told herself to decorate.
“What’s in the suitcase? Are you moving in?” He said the words not unpleasantly, and inwardly she scoffed at the flash of hope in her quickened pulse. She laughed and felt the nervousness fade to a glow of well-being.
“Not today. This is my decorating proposal for you,” she said. Then she opened the top and took out her storyboard sketch of the rooms, followed by drapery and upholstery samples and then some paint samples and photos of lamps and accent rugs. She spread it all out on the floor since he had no table. She took him on a tour. He listened intensely and watched her move.
“I’m impressed. I can actually see it—just as you’ve drawn it.” He picked up the storyboard sketch, held it out in front of him and examined it. “I should frame this and hang it in the hall as a directory for newcomers. Knowing me, there’ll be a steady stream of new people constantly popping by,” he said.
He looked at her and chuckled and then she realized he was kidding.
“Seriously, you are a tremendous artist as well as decorator. I will frame this and hang it on the wall.”
“You’re so kind to flatter me, but all decorators are artists. We all have to be able to illustrate our designs for our clients.” The warmth from his compliment did not diminish.
“I don’t care about the others. You are my extremely talented decorator and”—he paused—“I’m lucky to have you.” He was serious now.
She stepped closer to him to take the board and lean it against the wall. He stood close to her, seemingly too close in the giant empty room. She felt the buzz of electricity heighten to a near unbearable surge of excitement.
He reached out and took her hand in his and was about to speak when her cell phone rang. He immediately dropped her hand with a resigned smile and gestured for her to answer it. She felt the surge waver, but she had time, she told herself as she fished her cell phone out of her bag and tapped it on.
“Mabel, hello. How are you?” She saw David’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise—and something else that looked like apprehension.
“Is the rumor I heard true?” Mabel asked loudly enough for David to hear. That was fine with Grace. They may as well both enjoy the spitfire personality of the older woman.
“Which rumor would that be? I’ve heard a million of them, and they all involve you,” she teased.
“Not those rumors—don’t believe any of them. They’re being spread by jealous family members. No, I mean the one about you and my nephew, David Young,” Mabel said.
Grace dropped her jaw and the phone at the same time. She was looking straight at David as he grinned when he heard Mabel’s words. He shrugged and picked up her phone.
“May I?” he gestured to the phone and she nodded. She was unsure what to make of this. It was probably no big deal. Right? Her aunt Mabel was David’s real aunt?
“Hello, Aunt Mabel,” David said into the phone. He then immediately removed it from his ear and Grace could hear the very loud, cackling laughter of the old woman. She tapped the pointed toe of her alligator skin boot on the hardwood floor so the sound echoed in the empty room. It made her smile when David raised his brow again. He coughed into the phone and they watched each other as he attempted to continue his conversation with his Auntie Mabel.
“You’ve had your laugh, now tell me what this is all about,” he said. Grace listened along with David.
“I saw you at the Scotland Yard soiree with my girl Grace, young man. But I didn’t expect to find you together today.”
“You’ll be thrilled to know that I’ve hired Grace to decorate my townhouse. Why did you call Grace just now, Aunt?” His voice was steady, his eyes on Grace equally so. In fact, if he kept on looking at her that way she was going to heat up and then who knew what she would do.
“I was going to ask her what she thought of you, but I’d rather ask if you have romantic intentions for my girl. Do you?” Mabel’s voice had sudden authority. All the laughter and lightheartedness had disappeared. Grace was shocked. She’d never heard this side of Mabel and she couldn’t help being impressed—and a tad intimidated.
“Aren’t I a little ‘seasoned’ for you to be questioning me—with all due respect,” David said.
He had that same authoritative tone of voice. Grace barely had the presence of mind not to fall back into a chair—which was a good thing since there was no chair to be had.
“That’s exactly the point, my boy. You are far too seasoned for my Grace. And I’m still older and wiser. She deserves some fresh young buck to sweep her up. You’d break your back if you tried sweeping her off her feet. Besides, I know you’ve been playing the man about town with all sorts of women, and my Grace is not like that. She’s not to be trifled with. She’s a gem—”
“I get it—she’s too good for me,” David interrupted.
He was still looking at her with his sad man-about-town smile, his pretense at carefree, as Grace shook her head “no” to disagree with every single word that Mabel said.
David said good-bye to his aunt, ended the call, and handed her back her phone. Then he turned away and walked toward his kitchen. He disappeared for a moment, rummaging around in his cabinets. She tapped her toe as she waited for him to return, no doubt with some glib remark about his Aunt Mabel. She would have a talk with Mabel, who needed to be convinced that Grace did not need protecting—not in this instance, anyway.
David returned with two glasses in hand, the same smile on his face and a shake of his head.
“Like everyone else in the world who knows you, my sweet young woman, Mabel wants to be your protector too. She wants to protect you from the likes of me. But I believe she is now assured that your virtue is safe since we are only conducting a business relationship—the decorating of my townhouse.” David took a long swallow of water and handed her the other glass. “By the by, you might not want to mention your foray into the detective business to her. Keep that our little secret. My aunt worries about my law enforcement career—especially since the incident involving my wife. She’s protective even of me.”
She had the feeling he was watching for her response to all this with a great deal of curiosity. She was curious herself about what she might say. She had no clue how she felt. Now everything was jumbled up—the news that Mabel, her adoptive aunt, was David’s real aunt—did that make them somehow related, or maybe in the same family of people? And how was it that she never met him or heard of him before? She’d known the woman a good five years and had been to many family occasions and met many of her relatives. Now that she thought of it, they were hush-hush about the branch over in the UK. That could have been David and his family.
And then there was the age difference. As she looked at him with all her confusion and adoration showing, she had to admit that he was much older than the average groom and potential father. But she just knew he would be a wonderful father and there was no worry that he hadn’t had a chance to sow his wild oats. David’s oats were sown and then some. Maybe she wasn’t as confused as she thought after all.
“I love your Aunt Mabel, David. I actually consider her my own adopted aunt—as she may have mentioned—we’re very close. But I’m sure she’s overreacting and I’m not too worried about…how things may work out between us. After all, it would be between us—you and me—right?”
“Of co
urse…anything between us would be for us to work out, but…we should concentrate on the decorating.” David had that sad look again. Then the flash of emotion disappeared and was replaced by his urbane persona. “I’m very curious to hear about all your plans. As I said before, the sketch is lovely. I’m pleased with your taste. You’ve nailed me…er, I mean, you’ve captured my…well, you know what I mean,” he said with a hint of mischief beneath his smile.
Grace felt a flutter of connection and longing to embrace this man right then and there. She was tempted to respond to his mischief, but instead she took a deep breath and, with an inner patience she never guessed was there, she refrained. Must have been inherited from one of her unknown relatives and decided to show itself when it mattered most. David mattered to her and she wanted to win him over. However long it took.
“Of course, let me show you the upholstery samples—mostly for the colors,” she said with her eyes on his. She reached into her bag, still watching him instead of what she was doing, and pulled out a swath of burgundy fabric. “What do you think,” she asked as she pulled the sumptuous cloth across her arm in a great show.
Instead of an answer, his phone rang. He reached in his pocket and gestured with his index finger for her to wait a minute, put the phone to his ear and said, “Young here.”
“Hello David—Esther here.”
Grace heard and wondered.
Chapter 6
THE sound of Esther’s voice reminded him of the forbidden-Grace promise and he stepped away into the hallway as he registered what the dear woman was saying.
“…so of course I’m striking while the iron is hot and I’ve arranged your date with Maria—our French teacher—for tomorrow night. I checked with Dan and he said you had nothing more important to do than straighten out your laughable personal life—quote unquote.” Esther heaved a deep sigh.
“My sentiments exactly,” he said. “What have you arranged? Do I have time for this outing with the clock ticking on our investigation?”
“Don’t worry about the investigation. You can spare time for dinner—you’re going to the Museum of Fine Arts Exhibit of French Masters and then to a French restaurant—the best one in town. Dan said not to spare your wallet since you’re a closet millionaire, again quote unquote.” This time there was a hint of mischief in her voice along with the anxiety. Esther was one of those women who took on any new venture as if it were the equivalent of going into a lightning storm with a kite—she still did it, but with much trepidation.
“Don’t worry, Esther. My wallet can stand it if I can. What time shall I pick her up and where does the lovely appropriately aged woman live?”
That made Esther chuckle. “Oh, this is the coup de gras of Dan’s plan—because you know he’s taken over this matchmaking effort with a promising zeal. You’ll pick her up at our house at six and we’ll have cocktails—to loosen things up. Dan figured he’d allow you to fortify yourself before sending you on this mission…”
“Don’t tell me—quote unquote,” David finished for her. This time she really laughed. David frowned. Eventually there would be payback for Dan’s playful foray into matchmaking, but he knew underneath it all there was a serious intent. That was what really disturbed him. He couldn’t shake that feeling of impending doom. He signed off on his call with Esther, turned and walked back to where Grace was setting up her display on the only appropriate surface in the place, the breakfast bar in the kitchen. She welcomed him with her usual brilliant smile.
“Can I offer you a drink?” He went around to the kitchen side to get a drink for himself. He could use fortification right now, but he thought better of it.
“That sounds lovely—I’ll have a cosmopolitan with a twist of lime and a sugared rim,” she said. She had a straight face and he raised his brow.
“I’m fresh out,” he said.
Then she laughed with that same zeal he admired when they first met.
“What are you having?” she asked.
“How about lemonade straight up.” He placed the carton in front of her. She was a kick. There was something about her that struck him. Maybe it was her constant equivocation between the persona of a clueless bombshell and that of a witty, talented and confident beauty. She kept his head spinning and his eyes popping, and if he was to be perfectly honest with himself, his mouth watering. She laughed again as if she could read his mind.
“Sounds refreshing. I’ll have the same.”
He poured her a glass and wished fervently that she were twenty years older. Then as he took a generous gulp of his drink, he wished even more fervently that he were twenty-five years younger.
He didn’t have a chance to lapse any further into his pit of self-pity when his phone rang again. Grace raised her drink to his as he slid his hand along the well-worn path toward his breast pocket to retrieve his phone. This time he answered with a modicum of trepidation. There were very few people who had his number—and most of them had already called.
It was his barrister from the UK.
“Could I ask you to call me back at a more convenient time?” He winked at Grace, who was grinning. But Roland’s response of “no” sobered him up. He excused himself to Grace and went into his would-be den, which presently was just another empty room with a few boxes of paper shoved in the closet.
“I could call you back with details, but I have to tell you to book a plane as soon as possible. You’re scheduled for the day after tomorrow for an interrogation by the commission on internal affairs,” his barrister said in an urgent voice.
“I see.” David let the stunning news settle. He realized that in the middle of current events, there was nowhere to fit in a trip to London. “What’s this about? I thought the matter was settled last year before they sent me stateside to set up this exchange program.”
“Your late wife’s relations raised an issue or two. They want their pound of flesh. Now the commission needs you to answer the new spate of accusations and innuendos raised at the estate hearing that have been generously referred to as evidence.” Roland paused. “Sorry. I’m livid.”
“Oh? I took no notice. I’ll be there. They can have as many pounds of my flesh as they require to put an end to the matter. The estate matter, that is.”
“You’re being too good about this,” Roland said, still angry on his behalf.
“It’s nothing. My wife was murdered. I chased down her killer against orders and killed him. That was something.”
“And you were shot. You forgot to include that. And it’s a good thing you were. At least there was no fear that you’d be held accountable for murder—it was ironclad that you acted in self-defense.”
David smiled at the downtrodden voice of his friend and attorney. “Don’t worry, Roland. You’ve done your best. You’ve shielded me from dealing with the purgatory of the last year of wrangling with the estate matters. I’ll be there for the final interrogation.”
Once he concluded his surprise conversation with Roland, he went back out to face Grace. She was taking some measurements and concentrating over her pencil and paper as she jotted the numbers down. He watched her for a second and then heaved a sigh.
“News from ‘across the pond’ as you would term it.” He wasn’t going to tell her the whole story. No need to worry her, he thought, and then realized how ridiculous that was. Why should she worry about him? But all the same, he knew she would if he told her.
“Looks like I’ll be taking a trip back to the UK to take care of some loose ends.”
“Oh, how fun. When will that be? You’ll probably be happy to visit with old friends and relatives after a year,” she bubbled.
“In two days.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can decorate around your schedule,” she said. “But the chief may be disappointed not to have your help on the case.”
“I’m sure they’ll get along without me for a day.” He didn’t elaborate that he had no intention of visiting with friends—and especially not his relation
s.
“Going all that way for just a day?” Grace put down her measuring tape and gave him her full attention. She looked worried already. He gave her a reassuring smile, and one for himself too.
“As you said, I don’t want to be away from the case too long. We only have seven days to solve it before the jig is up. Then the mayor will disclose the fact that there was no murder—hopefully we’ll have captured the perpetrators to avoid any additional attempts. By the way, don’t forget this is all very top secret. You and Theresa will have to keep this amongst the two of you alone—right?”
“Don’t you worry. The secrets are all safe with me. Maybe you should make me a temporary assistant deputy or something—I saw them do it once on Andy of Mayberry.” She appeared serious.
He reached back to the very recesses of his boyhood memories to dredge the Andy of Mayberry TV series from the cobwebs and wondered exactly what Miss Rogers thought of the Boston Police Department. The similarities—aside from the badge—were resoundingly absent.
“Bloody good idea.” Naturally he was kidding.
“Really? This is so exciting!” Naturally she took him seriously.
He chuckled and made a mental note to get her some kind of badge or other from the chief. Maybe he should have her sign a paper swearing her to secrecy. It was ridiculous that a sensitive police matter had been shared with a decorator. But this was Grace and at least she’d proved to be helpful. “In that case, Deputy, are we on for our interview with Dr. Doris this afternoon?”
“At 4:00 p.m. sharp,” she reported, suddenly all business and packing her things away.
He looked at his watch.
With Grace behind the wheel, they arrived at Dr. Doris’s office building at the campus in Cambridge a short time later. He and Grace waited for Dan to catch up with them from wherever he managed to park his police car. Then they trooped to the professor’s office all together in a Nancy-Drew-meets-the-Hardy-Boys manner. He shrugged off the disquieting notion.
The Throwbacks Page 8
