Saving Grace (Madison Falls)

by Lesley Ann McDaniel

  His eyes shone. “Good. We could meet before rehearsal one night, if you’d like. Without Myra’s accompaniment, of course.”

  Grace let out a titter of anticipation. She’d sung minor roles at the Met and lots of other houses, but she’d dreamed of breaking out to the next level as a singer. Of being taken seriously as a major force in the world of opera. Mezzo-soprano leads were few in number and the competition was fierce. If she played Carmen for such a highly respected company, that could change everything for her.

  Her eyes locked with Devon’s. She was certainly due for some change.

  Propelled by a sudden need to know if his interest in her extended beyond the professional, she spread some tomato brie on a cracker and gauged her words carefully. “So, how did you come to be Sophia’s roommate?” She shoved the cracker into her mouth, chewing but not tasting.

  His face remained noncommittal. “It just worked out well for both of us. We…merged.”

  She tried not to cough as she swallowed. Suddenly her mind spun with unanswered questions. She had to know where she stood. There was no time to play games.

  “So you two are serious then?” She feigned a focus on the food.

  “Serious?” Innocence rode across his handsome face.

  Be direct. “Seriously involved?”

  He nearly choked on a shrimp. “Involved…as in romantically?”

  “Well, yes.” What other way might there be?

  He chuckled, evidently finding the idea funny. “Sophia is very important to me. She’s the only person in Madison Falls I’ve gotten close to.”

  She arched an eyebrow with the diplomacy of a person reliant on a ride back to town.

  He snickered softly, his hand lightly glancing over hers. Leaning toward her in a motion that seemed both calculated and spontaneous, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

  “Until you, of course.” He smiled. “I’m surprised I have to say it.”

  A tingle of excitement tangoed down her spine. Sophia was apparently a victim of unrequited infatuation. That was unfortunate, but Devon had a right to his feelings.

  Looking into his striking eyes, she firmed her resolve. Her tide had finally turned, and Devon Sinclair was riding it with her

  Chapter 20

  “Lucy! SOS!”

  Backing up into the dining room with her cell phone to her ear, Grace set her dripping feet down gingerly on the hardwood floor. What in the world had she done to deserve this?

  “What’s going on over there?” Lucy’s voice retained its usual perkiness even through its current edge of concern.

  “Remember you said to call if I needed anything fixed?”

  “Yes…”

  “Well, let me just put it this way.” She sat on a dining room chair and pulled her knees to her chin. “I never thought I’d own a house with an indoor swimming pool.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Yes, my trampoline turned into a pool overnight and I’m afraid of what it might evolve into next.”

  Lucy clicked her tongue. “I knew something terrible would happen if you didn’t get that taken care of. Don’t worry, honey. Help is on its way.”

  “Thanks Lucy. I owe you big time.” She clicked off, then sprang to her feet. If Bob was coming over, she’d prefer not to be caught in her PJ’s.

  A few minutes later, the doorbell rang and she emerged from the bathroom in her hastily thrown-on clothes. She grabbed for the door, swinging it open with neighborly gratitude.

  “Bob, you have no idea…”

  She froze. There on her front porch, with an impressive metal box in one hand and a hefty tool belt around his waist, stood Sam.

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” he said, “but Bob’s at work at the moment.”

  She eased the door back to a barely-open position as she weighed her options.

  “I hate to point this out,” Sam stated calmly. “But you can either turn your kitchen into a water park or you can ask me in.”

  Grace let a long breath out through her nose before stepping aside to allow him to enter.

  He slid past her, scanning the room with a pleased expression. “Place turned out nice.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The paint. You are happy with it, aren’t you?”

  “Oh. Sure. Of course.” She tried to avoid looking at his eyes, but they drew her like two chocolate brown magnets. “The kitchen’s that way.”

  He nodded at her outstretched hand. “I know. I’ve been here before.”

  Wearing a smug grin, he crossed toward what might soon be the new community pool if he didn’t hurry. She followed, not entirely trusting him with such a critical repair job.

  “So why are you here?” Her voice crackled with early morning murkiness.

  “I thought we’d covered that.” His brow dented with sarcastic confusion.

  “I mean, doesn’t this town have a plumber?” She pushed a stray hair behind her ear.

  “No, actually. There’s a guy in Victor who’ll come out if you need him, but he’ll charge you for his travel time. I’m not licensed, but I am a bargain.”

  He pulled the kitchen door open, let out a grunt, and blocked it with his toolbox. “I saw this coming, you know. It’s too bad Mrs. Miller didn’t want to put any money into the place toward the end.”

  Grace stood awkwardly in the dining room, keeping a wary eye on him. “No?”

  He squatted down and surveyed the floor. “We did what we could for her. You got that crow bar handy?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s in there, actually.” She flicked her hand toward the kitchen.

  Sam grinned. “What, you mean on the other side of the levee?”

  She smiled, caught herself, then looked away. He rose to his feet and took a step toward her. She felt her stomach lurch.

  He eased past, seeming to sense her discomfort. “I’ll have to go around to the back door. That is, unless you’ve got a canoe.”

  She crumpled her forehead. “Oh right. Had I been thinking ahead….”

  She walked behind him toward the front door, then grabbed her keys off the hook on the wall. They stepped out onto the porch and she pointed toward the side of the house. “The backyard’s that way…or have you been there before too?”

  He flashed a dimpled grin. “Only about a million times. Mrs. Miller was a real nice lady. I knew her my whole life.”

  As they walked down the front steps and around the side of the house, it occurred to Grace that as often as she’d heard the name mentioned, she hadn’t put a moment’s thought into who this woman was.

  “Was she married?”

  Sam hooked his fingers in the front pockets of his Levis and slowed his pace. “Yeah. Mr. Miller passed away when I was about five. Funny, I couldn’t tell you a thing about him, but I remember when he died like it was yesterday. That was the first funeral I ever went to.”

  They rounded the corner and Grace smiled lightly. Sam would think she was crazy if she admitted that this was her first time setting foot in her own backyard. She thought better of telling him.

  “Did they have kids?”

  “You bought the house from their son. He lives in Spokane, so I guess you didn’t meet him.”

  Grace surveyed the place with fresh eyes. Mrs. Miller was more than just a name that the locals tossed around to keep each other clear on real estate exchanges. She was a woman who had lived a life in this town, and raised a family in this house. She had been widowed and had gone on solo for at least a good twenty years. There was something humbling in taking over as the next inhabitant of her home.

  “When we were kids, the guys and I would stop by here and ask for a drink from the hose.” Sam reached out his hand. “We knew we’d always walk away with a homemade cookie.”

  The image forced her to smile as she handed him the keys. “Sorry, I’m fresh out of cookies.”

  “That’s okay.” He smiled back. “Got any dog biscuits?”

  Her face crinkled, and Sam nodded toward the side
of the house. Perplexed, she turned around. There stood that same brown dog, wagging his shaggy tail and looking at them expectantly.

  “Agh. I can’t believe it.” She raised her hands in frustration. “He keeps showing up. I think he’s a stray. He wasn’t Mrs. Miller’s, by any chance?”

  Sam knelt down. “No, she didn’t have a dog. I’ve never seen this fella.” The dog approached, sniffed Sam’s outstretched hand, and offered his head to be petted. “Good boy.” Sam ruffled his fur with both hands, and the tail doubled its tempo.

  “He likes you.” Grace folded her arms and observed the friendly exchange. “Maybe you should take him.”

  Sam smiled and shook his head. “I would, but my dad says no more pets. Our yard’s too small.”

  Grace’s forehead puckered involuntarily. This guy still lived with his dad? He had to be at least twenty-five. What was up with him?

  “Why don’t you keep him?” Sam stood and moved up the two steps to the back door. “He seems to like it here.”

  Grace let out a little sputter. That was completely out of the question. “Oh, no, I’m just…not a dog person.”

  Fido sidled up next to her and maneuvered her hand until it rested on top of his head. Grace caught a hint of Sam’s cocky smile as he turned the key and pushed open the door to the sun porch.

  He looked directly at her. “Maybe you oughta let him know that.”

  As he disappeared into the house, Grace gave the scruffy head a friendly pat. The dog beamed up at her.

  “Sorry fella, but you’re going to have to find another target. It’s not nice to keep showing up where you aren’t wanted. Believe me, I know.”

  “Ah, excuse me.” Sam’s stature seemed surprisingly heightened as he reappeared in the doorway. “Where did you say that crowbar was? I need to jimmy up some of the tiles so I can figure out the source of your leak.”

  “Right.” Giving the dog’s head another ruffle, she moved toward the house. She hesitated at the bottom step. Sam looked at her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was blocking the doorway.

  She cleared her throat. Head down, she advanced up the steps. He took an awkward step back and, just as she was about to edge past him, a tinny tune gave them both a start. With a look of apology, he pulled a cell phone out of his shirt pocket and glanced at it.

  “Sorry.” His expression suddenly urgent, he moved around her and down the steps.

  She lingered in the doorway, watching his back as he lifted the phone to his ear.

  “Hey…” he stepped to the edge of the patio. “I was waiting for you to call.”

  A confusing sensation splashed in her belly. Disappointment? That didn’t make any sense. She let out a breath and stepped inside. Where had she left that crowbar? She glanced around the sun porch.

  “Yeah, I know, I know, but you can’t just take off like that. What do you expect me to do?” His tone was hushed, but gruffness betrayed his anger.

  Must be his poor girlfriend. Grace really didn’t want to hear this guy yelling at her, but if she shut the door now, he’d probably realize she’d heard him. She didn’t want him to think she cared.

  “No. You’re wrong about that. I’ve had enough of your lame excuses.”

  His obvious attempt to keep his voice low was trumped by his hot temper. What had that girl done to make him so angry? She was probably mad about his drinking, and who could blame her?

  “Look, I don’t want to hear it. You need to get your act together.”

  Her act? Mr. Pot, meet Mrs. Kettle.

  Taking a step into the room, she tried to ignore the yelling. Where in the world…oh, that’s right. She’d placed the crowbar on top of that old cabinet in the corner. She stretched up, taking a quick glance out the window. Sam had moved to the far corner of the patio, clearly wanting privacy for his tirade. His back to her, he waved an arm wildly. Lucky for his girlfriend she was out of arm’s reach. He didn’t seem like the violent type, but you really never knew.

  “That’s got to be the stupidest…” He seemed to catch himself. “I’ve got something to do, but I’ll be done in a little while. You’d better be there when I get back.”

  He clicked the phone shut and Grace looked away, feeling for the wayward tool. Her jittery fingers enclosed it just as Sam reentered the house.

  “Sorry about that.” He walked in just as she whirled around. “Great, you found it.”

  He reached out and took a step toward her, but she clasped the bar with both hands. What was she thinking, allowing herself to be vulnerable to a man with such a volcanic temper? Hadn’t she learned her lesson?

  “Ah, you know…” Her voice wavered. “I really think I can take it from here. How hard can it be to pull up a few tiles, right?”

  His forehead creased in confusion. “Right. Well, you’re going to have to get something to suck up that water. Then once you find the leak you’ll have to either repair it or replace the pipes. Do you have much experience with replumbing kitchens?”

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Was he enjoying this?

  “Plus, I hate to tell you this…”

  A dull throb thumped at Grace’s temple. Nobody liked to hear that phrase.

  Sam’s eyes crinkled as he continued. “You have a nice little mote forming near the outside corner of your house.”

  “Oh no.” She cringed. “A second leak?”

  He smiled. “No. I’m sure it’s part of the same problem. It might even be a clue to the source. Listen,” his eyes softened. “At least let me run to the truck and get my shop vac. That ought to help alleviate the flood damage in the kitchen, and I can tell Bob to check in on you when he gets off work.”

  Her chest felt tight. This definitely extended beyond her home repair know-how. “Fine. I mean…” She held out the crowbar and took a step backward. “Since you’re here, you might as well get it started.”

  “If you’re sure.” He took the tool, a teasing glimmer in his eye. “Look, if it’s the money you’re worried about, let me check the damage and then we can talk cost.”

  “The money.” Her mind raced as she forced back that annoying guilt. The floor would only get worse if she didn’t deal with it, and the sooner the better if she wanted to rent out the house. Besides, at the rate she was going, she might wake up to find piranhas swimming around the periphery of the house. “Okay.”

  His smile was sympathetic. “I might even throw in a free look at that bathtub. Is the pipe still leaking in there?”

  A jolt shot down her back. “It’s fine.” She hadn’t meant to sound so abrupt.

  He looked as though he’d just dodged an arrow. “Okay then. One room at a time.” He turned and proceeded into the flood zone.

  Grace perched on her camp chair and locked her fingers over her knees. A small scratch at the door forced her to shift her attention to her other unwanted guest, who stood in the doorway looking hopeful. She sighed. All that stood between her and her old life was a few phone calls. Why was she letting herself get so distracted?

  Chapter 21

  “Unusual place to install a hot tub.” Devon barely restrained a laugh as he stood in the doorway of Grace’s still-soppy kitchen.

  “You think?” She chuckled, stepping carefully around the stripped-naked area of the floor and maneuvering toward the stove. “Remember I told you the house was undergoing surgery? Well, welcome to the O.R.”

  “Nice.” He moved around the damaged area with such poise, it almost looked choreographed. Once safely over the swamp, he held up his hands like a camera frame. “I see a beautiful fountain going in right about there. Maybe a replica of the Trevi.”

  Grace gave a pot of boiling fusilli a quick stir. “Nice, but don’t you think that’s a little showy?”

  He considered. “Not if you put the Piazza del Popolo in the living room.”

  “Hmm. A theme. I like it.” She picked up the pot and emptied it into a strainer she’d set over the large plastic tub that was acting as understu
dy for her sink till the pipes got fixed. Carefully, she set the pot down and reached for a bowl of sauce on the counter. Studying it, she gave its contents a stir, hoping she looked more culinarily confident than she felt.

  Devon leaned in. “So, what’s on the menu?”

  Grace proudly held up the bowl. “I’m making honey chicken, and pasta salad.”

  Devon dipped a finger into the sauce. “Wait a minute. You said you couldn’t cook.” He slid his finger between his lips.

  She beamed, setting down the sauce. “That’s what I said.”

  He made a sour face. “Apparently, you were right.”

  She playfully walloped him with an oven mitt.

  “You know I’m kidding,” he said. “Actually, I’m very impressed.”

  She poured the pasta into the bowl and swirled it with a spoon. “Would you mind grabbing this?” She took a step to the fridge and removed a dish of chicken, which had been marinating in salad dressing all afternoon.

  “Of course.” He angled his forehead toward the floor. “You know, you are a little handicapped by your work space.”

  “It’s challenging not being able to use the sink.” She headed to the sun porch, indicating that he should follow. “Which is why we’re going to cook in the great outdoors.” They moved through the porch, and she pulled open the back door.

  Devon reached out to hold it open for her, then gazed out at the patio. “You bought a barbeque?”

  “No.” She set the chicken down on the edge of a grill the size of a golf cart.

  Confusion colored his handsome face.

  She grinned. “I borrowed a barbeque.” She held her hand over the grill, pleased that she had succeeded in getting it to heat.

  “Ah.” He stepped out to join her. “So nice to have helpful neighbors.”

  “True.” She thought about Bob pulling this monstrosity across the street three minutes after she’d hung up with Lucy. “They said I could use it till the floor’s done.”

  “Generous.” He drew a leisurely gaze across the yard. “What’s that over there?”

  She followed his line of sight to the corner of the house, where Sam had dug a trench to expose her problematic pipes. “Oh, that’s my outdoor pool.” She poured a tall glass of lemonade from a Tupperware pitcher she’d borrowed with the grill.