The harder and the faster she ran, the better she felt. This time when she made it back to the house she had to wait for nine minutes before Jack joined her. For spite she was smoking a cigarette she’d taken from her purse. Jack knocked it out of her hand.
“Damn you, get me another one. Yousaid whatever it takes. It takes a cigarette right now.Do it. Jack!”
She was right, time to eat his own words. He had no other choice.
Jack watched as Rosie blew one perfect smoke ring after another. He knew his pupil was angry. At him. He felt like a chastened schoolboy. “How do you feel now, Rosie? Did you work out some of the soreness?”
“I hurt, Jack. All over. Yes, some of the soreness eased up. Listen, I think someone was in the car last night.” She tossed the half-smoked cigarette she no longer wanted on the ground, then used the heel of her sneaker to grind it into the soft dirt. “Even though my purse was on the backseat, my sunglasses are smashed. My first thought was someone stepped on my bag. I was just about to check my wallet. Do you have thieves out here?”
Jack was already opening the door of his car. She watched as he popped the glove compartment panel. “My gun’s gone!”
“Gun! What gun?” Rosie bleated as she raced for her purse to rifle through it. “Someone took all my money! Damn. I thought you said it was safe way out here. You’re going to call the police, aren’t you?” The cell phone was already in Jack’s hand.
Fifteen minutes later the local police were filing their report. Rosie showed them her purse and gave them the amount of money that was missing. The officer looked at both of them, frowning. Rosie knew he was thinking,What kind of idiots leave a purse and a gun in an unlocked car? He was right, they were both idiots.
Both she and Jack signed the report, received their copies, and watched the police cruiser reverse and drive away.
Jack scratched his head. “I don’t get it. No one ever comes down this road. Most people don’t even know this street is here. I deliberately let the vegetation grow out of bounds for just this reason. Mr. Daniels and I agreed to keep River Road as private as possible. The other two owners couldn’t care one way or the other what happens on River Road.”
“Why don’t you go over to the Daniels house and ask them if they saw or heard anything last night?” Rosie suggested. “Someone is there because we heard the music playing yesterday afternoon. While you do that, I can make breakfast.”
“Does that mean you aren’t angry with me anymore?”
“No, that’s not what it means. What it means is I am starved since I missed dinner last night. I’m not angry with you. I was venting, and you were handy. And, don’t even think about telling me what I can and cannot have to eat this morning.” To make her point, Rosie stomped her way past him. Buddy avoided him as if he smelled.
Jack sighed. He turned, looked up at the big angel oak, whose branches were still. He threw his hands in the air before he, too, stomped off. His destination, the Daniels house.
There was no car in the driveway. For all he knew, some vagrant or perhaps some kids had spent the day on the terrace or one of the back decks, having themselves a good old time with no one the wiser. He certainly hadn’t bothered to check, which didn’t exactly make him a wonderful neighbor. He walked around, checking all the doors of the Daniels house, but they were locked. The barbecue grill showed signs of recent use. It was even faintly warm. The deck was neat and tidy. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed information to get the number for Sinclair Daniels’s home phone number.
“Sinclair, this is Jack Silver. I’m out at the house on River Road. Last night someone broke into my car, stole some money and my gun. I was wondering if anyone was staying at your house because I heard music playing. There’s no one here this morning. I checked your place, and it appears to be okay.”
“That’s terrible, Jack. I gave the house to my daughter sometime ago. It’s possible she was out there. Give me your number. I’ll check with her and get right back to you. Appreciate you taking the time to check the house for us. Sorry about the gun. That’s serious business.”
Jack was walking up the steps to his own house minutes later when the phone in his hand rang. He flipped the cover up, and said, “Hello.”
“Jack, I spoke to my daughter. She was at the house with a friend, but they left right after dinner. She said the bugs were out in force. She also said she cleaned everything up and locked all the doors. I told her what happened, and she said she hadn’t seen or heard anything but did know you were at the house because the smoke from your grill made its way to her deck. She said you can call her if you want.” He rattled off a number that Jack immediately forgot.
“Okay. Thanks, Sinclair.”
Jack walked into the kitchen, his steps hesitant. Rosie smiled at him. “Just in time. I made omelets and some toast. Fresh-squeezed juice and lots of coffee.”
Jack sighed with relief. “Guess we won’t be having the second salmon steak I grilled last night. I’m starved. And this looks wonderful. I didn’t know you could cook, Rosie.”
“I like to cook when I have time. Unfortunately, my cooking tended to be all the wrong kinds of food. Everything I made had to have gravy so I could sop it up with bread that had butter on it. I cooked a lot with cheese, wine, and butter. The more calories, the more fattening the dish was, the better I liked it. I felt so good when I ate. I made cakes, pies, then added ice cream or whipped cream. I didn’t just eat one helping or one slice. Oh, no, I had to have two or three helpings and at the very least, two slices of cake or pie. When I would order pizza, I ate the whole thing myself. With every topping they offered. I used to love to eat. These days I hardly think about food. I guess that’s a good thing. Sometimes, I crave sweets or a load of mashed potatoes and gravy.”
“Me too. Sometimes I even indulge,” Jack confessed.
Rosie reacted with surprise. “You!”
“I used to be a fat kid. You know the kind the other kids made fun of. Then my dad laid down the law when I got to high school. My dad scheduled a workout at the gym for me three days a week. He wouldn’t let me take the bus to school which, by the way, was five miles away. I had to ride my bike. He consulted a nutritionist on my behalf, and she made up a month’s worth of menus. One day a month I was allowed to eat whatever I wanted. After the first couple of months, I didn’t even want to do that. I was able to stick to the diet because it was good food, it tasted great, and after a while it wasn’t that hard to give up the junk. Even way back then when no one was health-conscious the way they are today, I knew I had to take the weight off. And, girls never looked at fat boys. My dad was right even though I fought him tooth and nail in the beginning. I’m glad he kept at me, twenty-four/seven. It was a new way of life. It stayed with me. How about you?”
Did she really want to confess about her life to this man sitting across from her? What would he think of her? She grimaced, why not. “I wasn’t fat exactly, but I was pudgy. Vickie was so thin, so petite. As much as I loved her, I was jealous of her. She could eat anything and not put on an ounce. To this day she can still eat anything and not gain weight.
“It was hard being the chubby one in my group of girlfriends. They were all active, cheerleaders, involved in the marching band, track and field. I ate and studied. College was pretty much the same. No, that’s not true. In college I ate more and studied because I was the one no one asked out to the frat parties. I wasn’t invited to join a sorority. Vickie was invited to join all of them. She didn’t accept any of them because they didn’t want me. I made it through okay. I had a few dates. Nothing memorable. I hung out with the nerds.”
Jack listened and thought about his wife Martha. She’d been all the things Rosie hadn’t been. She’d been a cheerleader and had been invited to join every sorority on campus. She’d been homecoming queen and one of the most popular girls on campus. He had never been able to understand what she saw in him. She said he had kind eyes and a kinder heart. Plus, she’d said, “You’re cut
e.”
Rosie finished the omelet. “Nothing changed after college. I was a prime candidate for someone like Kent Bliss although he didn’t come along until ten years later. Vickie and Luna Mae tried to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen. That’s my story.”
She put her napkin down next to her plate. “Since I cooked, you get to clean up.”
Jack wanted to say something, something profound, but he wasn’t sure he could find the words. Even though it might sound stupid, he took a stab at it anyway. “Yeah, but look at you now. You have your ducks in a row, and you’re moving forward. I just want you to understand something, Rosie. Being skinny won’t make you happy. Happiness comes from within. I’m sure you heard that before. It’s true. Whatever you do in life, do it for the right reason, and you’ll be happy.” Damn, it didn’t sound stupid at all. He looked Rosie in the eye and grinned. She grinned back.
“Oh, let’s forget about the dishes and finish our coffee out on the porch. There’s something I want to tell you.”
Rosie flinched.Here it comes, she thought.It’s probably something terrible. Damn, why am I such a pessimist?
Out on the porch, Jack lowered the back of his chaise until he was stretched out completely. “I can’t prove this but I think your…I think your husband was next door yesterday. I’m almost certain he was over there with Heather Daniels. Remember, we saw them together at the cafe a while back? Think about it, Rosie. Somebody stomped on your purse. Who would do that? Your regulation burglar doesn’t take time to stomp on a purse. That was a spiteful thing. He went on to tell her about his conversation with Sinclair Daniels. “He called Heather, and she told her dad that they left right after dinner. I can call her and ask her if it was Kent with her.”
Rosie focused on a trellis at the far end of the porch that held confederate jasmine, whose scent was wafting her way. How strange that her heart wasn’t lurching, that she wasn’t breathless with what Jack was telling her. She closed her eyes for a moment trying to picture Kent going through her purse, looking for what? The lottery ticket, what else? Then when he didn’t find it, he stomped on her purse in a fit of anger. Yes, she could picture Kent doing that. The gun, though, that was different.
“No, don’t call her.” Rosie told him what she thought happened and why.
“He thinks you won that big Wonderball! Is the man obsessed? Why does he think that?”
“Because I did win,” Rosie blurted.
Jack gaped at her. “You won all that money! Jeez.”
“That’s all you can say, ‘jeez!’ I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t know what to do. That’s why I didn’t come forward to claim it. Now that Kent, and I’m sure it was Kent, stole your gun and my money, things are going to change quickly. Even if you called Miss Daniels, and she said Kent was with her, we can’t prove he’s the thief. There were no witnesses. Kent is very sly.”
“Rosie, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. I hope you have that ticket someplace safe.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Jack. I’m not giving half of that money to Kent. That’s all there is to it. It’s safe.” At least she hoped it was safe.
“Rosie, do you have any idea of all the good you could do with that money? You need a good lawyer. One of those chew-nails-spit-rust lawyers. How long do you have to claim the prize money?”
“A year from the date of the drawing. I probably shouldn’t have told you. You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Rosie asked anxiously.
“Hell no! I’m flattered that you trusted me enough to tell me. A little while ago you wanted to kill me.”
“I apologized. Sometimes I get carried away.”
“I forgive you,” Jack said softly, gazing deeply into her eyes. Then he looked down at his watch and his manner changed abruptly. “In thirty minutes we have to go canoeing!”
Rosie’s eyes popped wide. She held up her blistered hands for Jack’s inspection. He shrugged and shook his head. “I have just the thing for those hands.”
Rosie started to cry. Her tears didn’t faze Jack at all.
Buddy leaped onto Rosie’s lap and licked her tears away.
13
Kent Bliss shoved the gun he’d taken from Jack Silver’s car under the love seat in his room. His eyes were wild and full of panic. Where to hide the damn thing? Keep it in his car? Under his pillow? In a locked drawer in his office? Brilliant thinking there. The girls in the office could open any locked drawer, which they did all the time, with a nail file. What in the hell was he thinking when he took the firearm? Guns had serial numbers. It could be traced. He could wipe it clean and dump it somewhere. Hell, he didn’t even know how to shoot a gun. And he hated and yet loved the way it felt in his hands. All cold and silky, kind of like the way a woman felt sometimes.
He was overtired. He needed to sleep, but it was still light out. Not that it mattered. He closed the ugly orange-and-brown drapes before he stripped down and slipped between the sheets. The gun went under his pillow. He hoped the safety was on. He was asleep within seconds.
Kent woke a little after two in the morning and was instantly wide-awake. He looked over at the small travel clock he kept on the nightstand and quickly calculated how long he’d slept. Twelve hours since he’d hit the bed a few minutes past four in the afternoon.
He’d never used the little kitchen area, but this morning he made coffee, and, while it dripped, he showered, shaved, and dressed in jeans and a beige tee shirt. He gulped at the terrible coffee, smoked, and when the room grew cloudy with smoke, picked up the gun and dumped it in his shaving kit. He left the room and headed for his car. Time to take another crack at Rosalie’s house. This time he would check Luna Mae’s room and the attic as well. The damn ticket was somewhere in the house. All he had to do was find it.
He was almost certain Rosalie didn’t have a safe-deposit box. She’d never had one when they were married. There wasn’t a safe-deposit key on her key ring either and none in her jewelry box. The winning ticket was somewhere in Rosalie’s house. He’d stake his life on it.
Kent felt like a vampire as he drove out of the parking lot. He didn’t turn his lights on until he was out on the main road. He looked over at the passenger seat. His shaving kit and his breaking-and-entering tools nestled together. He felt jittery as he wondered what the penalty was for carrying a stolen gun.
This time, Kent parked around the opposite corner from where he’d parked the first time. No reason to give some nocturnal housebound neighbor an eyeful.
The clock over the stove in Rosalie’s kitchen read 3:27 when he disarmed the alarm system and rearmed it. He gingerly laid the shaving kit holding the gun on the counter. He took a full minute to realize he actually missed this house and the freedom that had come with living here. He used up another minute thinking about his present lifestyle. There was no comparison. He wasn’t meant to scramble for money. He realized now what a good thing he’d had.
He wanted the lifestyle back and, by God, he would do whatever he had to do to get it. His eye fell on the shaving kit.Whatever it took.
It was 4:55 when Kent, his face murderous, plopped down in Rosalie’s rocking chair in the guest room. His feet tapped the floor as he rocked. He was missing it. It was here. Why couldn’t he find it? He’d checked his wife’s shoes, the pockets of her clothes, everywhere he could think of. The elusive piece of paper was not to be found. He hadn’t tackled the attic yet. He needed to get to it before it got full light out.
Kent jumped off the chair, the flowered cushion sliding onto the floor. He didn’t bother to give the cushion a second look or pick it up.
At the top of the attic steps, he turned on the light. He looked down at the dusty floor. There was no sign of footprints. No one had been in the attic for a very long time.
He was beyond furious as he made his way back down the steps.
Once more, he eyed Luna Mae’s room. He’d found nothing of interest except the housekeeper’s bankbook, according to which her account had sixty-sev
en thousand dollars in it, and two hundred and forty dollars in cash in the bottom of one of the drawers. The cash was now in his pocket, along with an old Rolex watch that had belonged to her friend Skip. He was scrounging up a really nice little nest egg.
Kent made one last round of the entire house. He went from room to room, standing in the doorway, eyeing each and every little thing to see if he’d missed a hiding spot. And only when he reached Rosie’s guestroom did a smile break over his face.
Rosie sat on the front steps leading up to the verandah as she waited for Jack to secure the canoe and lock up the boathouse. She ached from head to toe. It was a good ache, not an angry one like she’d had the first day. She couldn’t wait to get home so she could relax in her Jacuzzi with a nice glass of wine. She’d earned it, and she deserved it.
In her wildest dreams she never thought she’d spend a weekend like this one. She’d half hoped it would be a romantic weekend, one whose memory she could cherish. Jack had acted like he was willing. The problem was her. She still didn’t have the self-confidence to believe a man could seriously be interested in her.Talk about shooting yourself in the foot. She grimaced at her lack of self-confidence.
From her position on the steps she could see the huge tree in the front yard with the swing. Even from this distance, she could see the round emerald patch of moss where a little bit of Martha rested. She took a moment to wonder why she wasn’t jealous.
Holding on to her hips because they ached so much, Rosie walked down the steps and over to the tree and the swing. She was careful not to walk on the lush mound of moss. She wanted to sit on the swing so bad, to kick her feet and sail high into the branches of the tree. She reached out tentatively to touch the ropes holding the swing, but she drew her hand back as though she’d touched something red-hot. The swing belonged to Martha and Jack. Not her. Something pricked at her eyelids. She rubbed them with her knuckles. When the branches started to sway, Rosie looked up. “He must have loved you very much. He’s a kind, caring man. I can see how and why you loved him,” she whispered.
Pretty Woman Page 19
