by Lori Avocato
Bret looked at me with green eyes that were not quite as accusatory as his bride, Shauna’s. “It was an accident. No problem.”
“Oh. Fine. Have a great life you two.”
Shauna shut the car door and opened the window. “Cameras are replaceable-”
“Glad you feel that way.” And I really was. Guilt was something inbred in me by my mother and fostered for twelve years by nuns. You haven’t lived guilt until it is nun-induced. They had my Jewish friends’ mothers beat by a mile. “You can easily pick up one of those disposable cameras at the drugstore.”
Shauna cleared her throat and in a whinny voice said, “It’s the pictures of us that can never, ever be replaced.”
Zinger to my heart. I was speechless. From the corner of my eyes I noticed Jagger-grinning.
He was enjoying this! The only thing I could do to make myself feel a bit better was to lean toward him and say, “Want a repeat of last night?”
Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine seeing fear, fear that I induced, as a matter of fact, in Jagger’s eyes.
But damn if my threat didn’t produce it and somehow make me feel a bit better.
Since Goldie was off on the town with Miles, Jagger took me to The Market for a cup of tea. The guy always did know what was best for me-but I’d die before admitting that to him.
When he set a cup of English Breakfast-decaffeinated-down in front of me, I looked up at him. “By the way, I didn’t get a chance to ask, but what the hell were you doing with the police?”
He’d set a cup of black coffee down in front of his seat and stood over the chair a few seconds, merely looking at me.
I rolled my eyes. “Never mind. I’m going to assume you’re friends with at least one of the detectives, that you were visiting while the call came in, and you probably saw my cell phone number and tagged along because you thought I needed saving.”
He grinned.
I should have been furious. I should have been embarrassed. I should have shouted for him to leave me alone-but I puffed up my shoulders and was so proud of myself for hitting that Jagger nail on the head that I wasn’t furious, shouting or embarrassed.
Nothing could make my day like a look of pride from Jagger.
After our rather silent coffee/tea break, we walked outside and got into Jagger’s SUV. Without a word he took a right out of The Market’s parking lot and didn’t turn down any side street to take us back to the lodge.
Just down the hill the ocean sprang out to the right, and although the beach was deserted at this time of the year, the surf of course continued its rhythmic crashing against the sand. Brown and white seagulls, gigantic birds, squawked from their perches on the abandoned lifeguard chairs.
Jagger turned into the lot, pulled into a space and shut off the engine. “Walk or sit here?”
Without a thought I said, “Walk,” while never taking my eyes off the water.
Ian had died in this water.
I got out and stood, holding the door handle while a gust of ocean breeze nearly knocked me over. Jagger was already standing by the cement stairs that led to the beach.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” I said more sarcastically than planned.
“Unfortunately I have to, Sherlock. I have to.” With that he bent down and took off his cowboy boots and socks.
For as much as what he’d just said had me as curious as all get out, I took my socks and shoes off too, set them on the side of the steps and walked into the amazingly warm sand. The sun had baked it all morning, causing an almost sensual feel.
Okay, watching Jagger’s back and…er…lower back-okay, lower than his back-as he walked toward the water might have warmed me down to my toes.
Seagulls swooped down on us as if we were some tasty meal. The damn scavengers were annoying. Occasionally Jagger swatted at the air until they flew off shrieking.
Several times I looked out toward Cliff Walk and as if with zoom-lens eyesight could so clearly see the collection of rocks that Ian had been killed on. I shuddered.
And Jagger’s arm was around me in seconds.
We walked silently, enjoying the ocean, the rhythmic sounds of slamming waves and the salty scent of the Atlantic. Once we reached the end of the beach area below a row of fabulous cottages, Jagger led me to an outcropping of rocks where we both sat.
The warm sun beat down on us. Despite the breeze, the air had warmed enough that my feet never got cold in the sand.
I leaned back to rest my head against the rocks, shut my eyes and let my mind wander.
Of course, with Jagger next to me, my mind headed down “Lust Lane,” but it was damn fun.
Beep. Beep.
Nearly paralyzed from pleasure, I remained still.
“That’s you, Sherlock.”
“Hm? Oh.” I opened my eyes, sat forward and took my phone from my pocket, amazed at how dreamy I felt in this atmosphere. I looked at the caller’s number. “Oh, no.”
“What? Something wrong?” He looked at me with genuine concern.
Such a guy. “I’m not sure. It’s my mother.” I flipped open the phone. “Hi, Mom.”
“Actually it’s Daddy, Pa¸czki.”
“Oh, hey, Daddy. Daddy?” I nearly dropped the phone but Jagger steadied my hand. “Daddy, what is wrong? Uncle Walt? Is something…oh, God, no…something wrong with him. Mother! Why isn’t Mom calling me, Daddy?”
Daddy wasn’t one to talk on the phone. Never had much experience with my mother around. So I could tell he was probably holding the phone wrong and could only hear part of what I was saying.
“Daddy. Why did you call?” I held my breath.
I heard him clear his throat and talk to someone in the background. When I was just about ready to scream at him to tell me what was going on, my mother came on the line, “Pauline, everything is fine. I’m all right. Really-”
“Mother! When someone says all that, there is something wrong. What happened? To whom?”
I said a silent prayer that my uncle was okay since he was the only one I hadn’t heard talking.
“Oh, it is nothing really. I broke my arm. That is all. You have a good weekend.”
“Don’t hang up!” I rolled my eyes, and Jagger stared.
He whispered, “What?”
I held my hand over my cell phone and said, “My mother broke her arm.”
“How’s she going to cook?”
I could only stare back at him. Why on earth would that be the first thing that popped into Jagger’s mind? How rude. Not even an “Is she all right?”
Then again, he heard me talking to her, so he must have figured she wasn’t too bad off. But cooking? Cooking! Oh…my…God. Cooking to Stella Sokol was like breathing.
“Mother, which arm?”
“What does it matter, Pauline? I can hardly do anything with this gigantic thing on my arm. Must weigh a thousand pounds. And who ever heard of a cast in shocking pink? I’m shocked all right. Pink. Ha!”
“Right or left?”
“My cooking arm, Pauline. My right one.”
My mouth dried. Poor Mom. Not only had she gotten hurt somehow, but she also couldn’t do her daily duty that she so loved. “What happened, Mother?”
She proceeded to tell me how she tripped on my darling Spanky! Apparently Miles couldn’t get anyone to watch him, so my mother had volunteered to take care of him-all the while, I’m sure, protesting that she didn’t like dogs.
“They smell like dog,” she’d say.
Before I could apologize, she had me volunteering to come home for the weekend since Goldie really didn’t need me-and she couldn’t cook for Daddy and Uncle Walt.
“I’ll show you how to maneuver around with a cast on, cooking and all,” was the last thing I said.
As I followed Jagger into my parents’ house, I could not believe I was back there and that he’d insisted on driving me. As if I was too upset to drive. Well, having to leave Newport was a bit upsetting, but my folks needed me and tha
nk goodness Mother wasn’t badly injured. All in all, I told myself it wasn’t going to be a bad weekend.
Mother managed to open the door and say, “Thank goodness you two are here. Of course, you’ll both have to stay here to help out. Elderly can do just so much for themselves. Correct?”
Obviously Jagger was holding back a grin while managing, “Correct, Mrs. Sokol,” as he walked into the house and finished with, “and pink goes wonderfully with your outfit.”
I think I groaned since Mother gave me a chastising look, but I know I rolled my eyes. She had on a brown, yellow and white plaid housedress that pink did not go with.
Mr. Jagger had something up his mysterious sleeve. I just knew it.
After I made fried bologna and bacon sandwiches on rye bread-Daddy’s favorite-I made Jagger help clean up. He protested once in the kitchen, but I gave him a look that I thought was close enough to what Stella Sokol would give me if I had been complaining.
Then I dried my hands on the aquamarine towel that hung on the duck’s head near the sink and said, “I think they can all get along for a while. I’m going to check on Spanky and then head over to-”
“I’ll drive you.”
Damn. I had no car, and he’d figured it out just as I had. “Yeah. To the office. I’m going to talk to Adele.”
He merely nodded, and before I knew it we were in the car driving away from hell at 171 David Drive-but knowing I had to come back and make roast pork since it was Thursday and Mother always made it on every Thursday of the week.
I kinda hoped that Jagger would just drop me off and I’d have some free time with Spanky. But he shut the engine off and was at the front door before I was.
“You know, Jagger, I hate that you had to leave your R and R to bring me back here. Wait. I know. I can use my uncle’s car and you can go do…whatever it is you do around here until Sunday night. Then we can drive back to Newport together. So, I’ll see you-”
I’d come up behind him as I was talking, took out my key and had it in the lock before I finished.
Jagger walked right inside.
I hesitated and watched my darling Spanky bark and run up to-Jagger!
The little traitor!
He’d done that before and it didn’t hurt any less right now. How I wished I was back doing my job.
My job. I had to call Adele. Ignoring the two males, I walked inside, shut the door and went to the stairs. Over my shoulder I said, “I’m going to make a few phone calls. You two enjoy.” I tried to have the tone come out very nonchalant, but instead it came out schoolgirl jealous-and by the look on one of the male’s faces, he knew exactly how I felt.
Damn him.
I hurried up the steps and opened the door to my room-and froze. I hadn’t been gone that long, but my room looked different. Not that I could put my finger on what it was, but there was something…the drapes were pulled farther back than I liked them. The bedspread was pulled so taut I knew a coin would bounce to the ceiling fan. And there were no little Spanky indentations on the bed.
He hadn’t been in my room while I was gone.
Odd. Miles would never had even entered my room. That much I was certain about. Then what the heck had happened? Surely I wasn’t imagining all that? I walked to the closet, opened the door and puffed out a breath.
Pine-scented Renuzit.
Stella Sokol had invaded my space!
I just knew Mother had been there and was trying to “help” me out in some Polish matronly farfetched way. Before I could call her to yell she had no business being in there (not that I would since she was wounded), I started to yank open all my dresser drawers.
Organized to within a thread of color.
All my socks. All my nighties. All my…shit!
As if in slow motion I reached into my “essentials” drawer and touched what I knew were not mine-which was everything.
Thongs.
Black on black lacy ones. Red with pink dog ones. And some kind of blue fishnet with black lace trim.
Invader of Victoria’s Secret. Stella Sokol. Yikes.
My hands started to shake as I jabbed at the new bras Mother had purchased for her thirtysomething, single, childless daughter. Purple satin glared at me. I poked at the fabric to feel something soft inside. Gel. My mother had gotten me a gel cleavage-enhancing bra with naughty black trim, and next to it were matching panties-or what tried to be panties but ended up as some kind of V-string thingies.
I lifted them in the air and blew out a breath.
“That’d be my reaction too.”
I swung around to see Jagger standing in the doorway, grinning and staring. I threw the lingerie down into the drawer where it belonged.
Jagger had no idea that this was all my mother’s doing! What the hell did he think I was doing with the purple satin devil’s design underwear?
Stella Sokol never ceased to amaze or embarrass me-even if she wasn’t physically present.
Jagger whistled-and not even under his breath.
Twelve
“These aren’t mine. They, well, yes they are in my drawer…but still that doesn’t mean. I don’t wear…nor would I be caught. Look, I know how they got here. My-” What the hell was I explaining any of this to Jagger for? Or make that trying to explain to him. I didn’t owe him any explanations for anything-even sexy lingerie.
Besides, he’d never believe that Stella Sokol sabotaged her single-make that never married-childless daughter like that.
I could hardly believe it.
With my hip, I shoved the drawer closed and walked to the door, being very careful not to even brush against any part of Jagger while I headed past him. Over my shoulder I said, “I have to go make dinner for my family.”
My legs barely got me down the stairs as my knees kept trying to buckle under the embarrassing scene I’d just lived through. But I knew if I even acknowledged it to Jagger, I’d be a goner.
He followed me downstairs, gave a quick hug to Spanky, and we were out the door in silence-thank the good Lord-and soon on the way to 171 David Drive.
And I thought the lingerie thing was a nightmare.
“I salted the pork just like you said, Mother,” I repeated as I rolled my eyes. If she told me one more thing about how to cook a meal, I might not be responsible for my actions.
She leaned over the aquamarine Formica counter. “More pepper.”
My teeth clamped down inside my lips so nothing could come out. I grabbed the pepper shaker and shook until the damn pork was speckled in so much black and gray that it was unrecognizable.
Jagger had the audacity to sit next to my mother, take a sip of his Budweiser and grin.
I shook the pepper shaker in the air above the pan and blew a bit in his direction.
Once he started sneezing, I felt much better.
Finally my mother gave me the okay to set the table while potatoes boiled, pork roasted, and corn sat at the ready to be heated. How I wanted to corner her and get the naughty lingerie truth out of her, but she made herself look so pathetic sitting on the counter stools next to Jagger, sipping her cream sherry while he helped her get comfortable with the pink cast.
Geez.
I shook my head and politely excused myself before I exploded. When I went into the living room to find my purse, I smiled at a sleeping Uncle Walt on the couch and my father reading the newspaper (for the past three hours I might add) as if the most exciting things had happened around Hope Valley that day.
“Hey, Daddy.” I reached into my bag and got out my cell phone. From the corner of my eye I could see Jagger laughing with Stella Sokol and decided I had to do something.
Daddy muttered a few unintelligible words.
Uncle Walt snored, and I hurried down the hallway, opening the bathroom door and ducking inside. There on the back of the commode was what I needed.
Mother’s pine-scented Renuzit.
I sprayed a few puffs into the air and sat on the edge of the bathtub with phone in hand. Suddenly
I felt a bit more relaxed, as if my Prozac had kicked in although I didn’t take Prozac or any other medication. As usual, the nostalgic pine scent did the trick.
When I searched through my cell phone book, I found Scarpello and Tonelli Insurance Company and poked the button.
“Ello?”
Adele Girard, French Canadian and like a second mother to me although in a very different sort of way, still had a slight accent even though she’d lived in the States for some time. Actually this is where she’d spent years in prison-which was another story and one that always made me root for her even though she had broken the law to pay for her mother’s chemotherapy. Tough call, but a broken law was a broken law.
“Hey, Adele. It’s me. Pauline.”
“Oh, chéri, we miss you. How is it going in Newport?”
“Actually that’s why I called you. I need your help.” After I filled in Adele about Olivia Wheaton-Chandler and asked her to run any kind of check on the woman that she could find, I at least felt as if I was doing my job. Being the doll that she was, Adele assured me she would get right on it and not tell Fabio that I was back in town. She was excellent in her job, with contacts reaching far and wide. I could always rely on Adele.
I’m sure that wouldn’t sit well with Fabio since private investigators didn’t get weekends off.
After letting the pine scent waft around me, I gathered up what mental faculties I had left and went out into the kitchen.
Mother was instructing Jagger on how to set the table!
I stood in the doorway and watched, barely believing my eyes as he took each order in stride and did as told to perfection.
Why was it that Stella Sokol could get so much out of him while I couldn’t even find out if he had a last name or a first name? Well, I had to admit, now I was more determined to find out a lot more about one Jagger. A.k.a. Jagger.
“Don’t just stand there, Pauline. Start the gravy,” Mother said.
I looked at the pink cast and cursed in my head.
Jagger grinned at me. Yes, the man could read my mind. That fact, sad but true, was proven over and over with him.
“Sure, Mom.” I turned to hurry into the kitchen. Maybe I could get the gravy done before they came in.
