The House on Main Street

by Shirlee McCoy

  “There’s a mudroom?” Tess put her hand on the scarred wood to keep Gertrude from doing any more damage.

  “What do you think that is?” Gertrude gestured to an open door at the far side of the room. Tessa hadn’t noticed it before. But then, she’d been trying really hard to not notice much about her sister’s place. It was too depressing. Too discouraging to think of Emily and Dave pinning their dreams on a pile of junk.

  “A door?”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass, Tess. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “Neither does being woken up at five in the morning.”

  “You were the one who spent yesterday complaining that we weren’t getting any work done. I’m just trying to get a head start on today.”

  “You couldn’t have waited until seven?” Tess walked to an old coffeemaker that sat on the counter. The dregs were burning on the bottom. In another couple of minutes the whole machine would probably go up in flames. She pulled the plug.

  “Stop fiddling with the coffeemaker and help me move this!” Gertrude grunted as she set her shoulder against the back of the cabinet and pushed.

  “Is there a reason you want to move it?”

  “I’m donating it. The truck will be here at eight, and I have a lot of other things to move before then.”

  “This is one of the few nice pieces in the house.” Tess ran her hand over the cool wood. A little polish and elbow grease, and it would be a showpiece.

  “So?” Gertrude scowled, every line in her face deepening. “You said we need to get rid of everything.”

  “I said we need to get rid of the junk.” As a matter of fact, she’d spent two hours explaining everything in excruciating detail. If they were going to stay, they had to make This-N-That profitable. Get rid of the junk. Bring in some good antiques. Start selling things.

  Pray to God that it worked, because Tessa’s savings were limited, and at some point they were going to need more than Gertrude’s social security check.

  “Yesterday you said everything was junk.”

  “No, I . . .” She stopped before they could go back down the path they’d taken the day before. Gertrude could fight tooth and nail about nothing when she wanted to, and Tess wasn’t in the mood. “Anything that belonged to the original Riley family needs to stay. For Alex.”

  At the mention of their nephew, Gertrude seemed to lose some of her steam. She sagged beneath her old yellow housecoat, her face sinking in. Suddenly she looked every bit of her seventy-two years. “I’m worried about that boy, Tess. I’m going to tell you that right now. He’s not eating. Isn’t talking. If we’re not careful, we’re going to lose him.”

  “I know.” It was all she could say. All she knew to say, but she felt a lot more. Frustration. Worry. Fear. “Let’s move this china cabinet back and clean off the table. I want to see if the surface is restorable.”

  “What if it is? Are you going to pay for it to be done?” Gertrude grunted as they shoved the cabinet back against the wall.

  “No, I’m going to restore it.”

  “The table is over a hundred and fifty years old. Made by Alex’s great-great-great-grandfather Riley. You go fooling around with it—”

  “Give me some credit, Gertrude. I’ve restored a few antiques in my time.” More than a few. Hundreds. She’d built her reputation and her career on it, repurposing old pieces and using them as key design elements in houses and businesses. If Gertrude had ever shown any interest in the life she’d lived in Annapolis, she’d have known it, but Gertrude had only ever been interested in telling Tessa how wrong she’d been for leaving town.

  “You think that makes you an expert?” Gertrude snapped. “You think because you went to some fancy design school and lived in some posh house on the East Coast that you know everything?”

  “I’m giving you what you want, Gertrude.” Tess rubbed the bridge of her nose, a headache pulsing behind her eyes. She hadn’t had a day without one in a week and a half, thanks to Gertrude. “So why do you feel the need to keep arguing with me?”

  “Because you’re good at it.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Tess grabbed a box of old silverware from the table, her temper rising.

  “Your sister never argued. She was so—”

  “I know. Sweet and gentle and easy to get along with.” She was also sneaky and prone to lying, but bringing that up seemed pointless.

  “I was going to say insipid, but she was those things, too.” Gertrude lifted the carafe of burnt coffee dregs and ran cold water into it. “You, on the other hand, have never been sweet or gentle or insipid. You’re just stubborn as an old mule and twice as ornery.”

  “Thanks.” Tessa couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm from her voice.

  Gertrude frowned. “I don’t like your tone.”

  “Yeah? Well, I don’t like being compared to my sister and coming up short every time.” Tessa grabbed a couple of old pans from the table. Cast iron, but not worth any money. She carried them to the mudroom door, pulling it open and walking into a nearly solid wall of stuff.

  Something jabbed her cheek.

  Something else poked her stomach.

  “What the he—?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Forgot about that,” Gertrude said as she shuffled up beside Tess. “When I moved in, Emily and Dave took the stuff that was in my room and put it in here.”

  “Wonderful,” Tess muttered, setting the pans down with a clank and turning on her heels. She couldn’t take one more minute of the craziness. Not one more!

  “Where are you going?”

  “For a run.”

  “In your pajamas?”

  “Yes!” she nearly shouted.

  But she couldn’t.

  Even if she wanted every single person in Apple Valley to be talking about Tessa McKenzie running through town in her pj’s—which she did not—Tess didn’t want to freeze her butt off.

  She retreated up the stairs, trying to put an invisible wall up behind her as she went, because she couldn’t handle Gertrude following her into Emily’s room. Did not even dare look into her aunt’s green eyes. She might try to claw them out. She was that mad.

  She yanked off her pajamas, tugged on leggings and a tank. Layered a long-sleeved cotton T over it. She had a down vest in her luggage. She pulled it out.

  Still no Gertrude.

  Thank God.

  A floorboard creaked.

  Feet tapped on wood.

  She braced herself, sure that she was about to go another round with her aunt.

  Something moved in the hall, a shadowy form that seemed to float rather than walk and that scared every bit of anger out of Tessa.

  Until she realized who it was.

  Alex.

  “Hey, bud,” she said quietly as she walked into the hall. “Where are you going?”

  He just kept moving through the apartment, a heavy coat covering his thin body, snow boots on his feet.

  “Alex?” She touched his shoulder before he could walk down the stairs. “It’s too early for school.”

  He finally looked into her face, his hair falling over his forehead, his cornflower-blue eyes hollow. His cheeks were gaunt. Had they been when she’d arrived?

  She’d been too grief stricken to notice.

  Now she couldn’t stop noticing, assessing. Wondering if he were going to fade away into nothing before she could find a way to help him.

  “I’m going to find her,” he finally said. Clear as day, his voice gritty and rough.

  Going to find her?

  Outside? While it was still dark?

  Tess couldn’t get any of the words out. Her throat was clogged with fear, her heart beating rapidly. If she hadn’t been awake, would he have slipped down the stairs and out the door?

  “Going to find who? Gertrude?” Please let it be Gertrude.

  He shook his head, his hands tapping a quick frantic beat on his thigh.

  As far as Tess knew, there was only one other woman that he might have been l
ooking for, and she was way too far away to ever be found. “Do you mean your mother, Alex? Is that who you want to find? She’s gone, sweetie. In heaven, and you can’t go there yet.”

  Wasn’t that what you were supposed to say to little kids when someone they loved died?

  She hoped so. God, she did.

  Alex didn’t speak. He just kept tapping his fingers on his thigh, his head nodding a little to the rhythm. Lost to her, and she felt sick with the knowledge.

  “Alex?” She touched his shoulder.

  “What’s going on?” Gertrude called from the bottom of the stairs, and Tessa was ashamed of the amount of relief she felt.

  “Alex is awake. He wants to go look for Emily.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Gertrude stomped up the stairs. “The boy isn’t stupid. He knows he can’t find his mother.”

  “He said—”

  “Alex, you take off that coat and come in the kitchen. I’ll make you some oatmeal. That sound good to you?” She took Alex’s hand, tugging him away from the stairs and tossing a hot glare in Tessa’s direction.

  Obviously, Tess hadn’t handled things the right way.

  And, just as obviously, she wasn’t needed or wanted at that moment. She shouldn’t have cared. She hadn’t wanted the job of guardian to her nephew. She wasn’t mother material, and she knew it. She’d told Emily and Dave that a few years ago when they’d asked if she’d be willing to raise Alex if something happened to them.

  She’d laughed and replied with some light-hearted quip about the two of them not being allowed to die together. If they did, Gertrude would be more suited to the job of guardian.

  Obviously they hadn’t listened, because they’d gone and died together. Tears stung the back of her eyes as she opened a closet at the top of the stairs and pulled out her running shoes. Emily and Dave hadn’t ever cared to plan for the future, so the will they’d left with a lawyer friend had shocked and surprised her. Two stipulations. Clear as could be. If they both died, Tessa inherited everything, and she was named guardian to Alex.

  She’d been speechless when she’d heard that.

  Shocked. Horrified.

  Angry.

  Was it any surprise that she was already screwing up royally?

  She jogged down the stairs, unlocked the front door, and ran into the frigid morning.

  The sun hadn’t even begun to rise, and the sky was black as pitch, a million stars twinkling against the inky darkness. Cold air speared through her T-shirt and the down vest. She’d forgotten how cold Washington winters were. She needed more layers, but she wasn’t going back to the house.

  Not yet.

  Her breath puffed out in a white cloud as she raced up Main Street. At first, the houses were spread apart, the windows dark, the streetlights barely lighting the pavement. Eventually, the lot sizes grew smaller, the streetlights closer together. As she neared the town center, houses gave way to 1920s brick buildings standing shoulder to shoulder. Christmas lights shone from windows and wreaths hung from doors. Old signs and new ones announced businesses. Most were closed, but Tess remembered a small coffee shop from her years in town. The place had opened at five and closed at noon. As a teen, she’d felt sophisticated going there before school to get a cup of coffee.

  Now she was just desperate for a little heat.

  Murphy’s Coffee House was exactly where she remembered, lights glowing from the display windows in the front of the whitewashed brick building. It hadn’t changed much. Someone had painted the window trim blue instead of the puke green it used to be. The once-brown door gleamed glossy blue, but the chipped and scratched OPEN sign still hung from the doorknob.

  The bell above the door rang as Tess walked inside, every cell in her body rejoicing as she was wrapped in warmth and the homey scents of fresh brewed coffee and pastries.

  “Good morning!” Larry Murphy walked out of the back room, wiping his hands on his apron. Aside from a few more strands of gray hair and a few extra pounds around his waist, he looked just like he had ten years ago.

  “Hi, Larry,” Tessa responded with a smile.

  His grin broadened, his ruddy face melting into a hundred smile lines. “Well! Tessa McKenzie! I was wondering how long it would take for you to come in and say hello!”

  He wrapped her in a bear hug that nearly squeezed the breath out of her lungs. “How you holding up, kid?”

  “Okay.”

  “Yeah? You don’t look okay. You look half frozen and in need of a strong cup of black coffee. Am I right?” he asked, his New York accent growing thicker with every word.

  He poured coffee into a white mug, set it on the counter. “And how about a couple of my pumpkin doughnuts? They’re still hot.”

  “I’d love one.”

  “One? A girl your size needs two.” He pulled them from the display case and set them on a plate.

  “Who is it, Larry?” Kristen Murphy appeared in the kitchen doorway, her once plump figure thin and fragile, her head barely covered by gray peach fuzz.

  Tessa’s happiness fled, her heart squeezing tight as she looked into Kristen’s green eyes.

  Don’t pity me, they seemed to say.

  So she smiled, reached for the hug she knew Kristen would want. “Hi, Kristen.”

  “Tess! I’m so glad you finally came in.” Kristen returned the hug, her body skeletal beneath jeans and a thick sweater. “I’ve been wanting to visit, but Larry has been worried I’ll catch the flu that’s going around.”

  “You’re just getting better, hon. We don’t want you sick again.” Larry put an arm around Kristen’s waist, his gaze tender as he looked at his wife. “I thought you were doing paperwork in the office.”

  “I’m sick of paperwork.” Kristen met Tessa’s gaze, her smile just as bright as it had always been. “He likes me to hide out in the office. He’s afraid I’ll get sick and end up in the hospital.”

  “The doctor said—”

  “That I was fine,” Kristen interrupted. “He gave me a clean bill of health last week.”

  “For now,” Larry muttered.

  “Breast cancer.” Kristen offered the information to Tess. “Stage two, but the doctor thinks I’m going to be just fine. Finished my last round of chemo Thursday.”

  “I’m glad.” Tess touched her frail arm, sorry that she’d let so many years go by without visiting the couple. She’d been back in Apple Valley a few times over the years, but only to see her family and only for a few days at a time. She hadn’t bothered walking down Main Street or visiting the town center. She hadn’t wanted to see anyone who had known her when she was a kid. Mostly because she’d wanted to put that part of her life behind her.

  “Me too, but I can’t complain. Things could be a lot worse. You go take your coffee and doughnuts to a booth and sit for a while. Come on, Larry.” She grabbed her husband’s arm and pulled him toward the kitchen. “Mrs. Simpson is picking up those pies at nine, and you’re only halfway done.”

  “Such a taskmaster,” Larry said, his eyes twinkling as he leaned down and whispered something that made Kristen giggle like a schoolgirl.

  They disappeared through the open door, and Tessa carried her coffee and doughnuts to a high-backed corner booth. She tried to block out the sound of Larry and Kristen’s quiet laughter, but it was impossible. She seriously considered grabbing a to-go cup from behind the counter and leaving, because the last thing she felt like doing was listening to the proof that some people really did achieve happily-ever-after.

  Dang! She hated that she hated other people’s happiness.

  Okay. She didn’t exactly hate their happiness.

  She just didn’t want to be witness to it. That happily-ever-after every girl dreams of? The lovey-dovey, finish-each-other’s-sentences kind of relationship that made other people gag and go green with envy all at the same time? She’d seen it a time or two, but she’d never experienced it. All she’d managed was a string of bad relationships that had culminated in Kent.
/>   Yeah . . . she didn’t really want to think too much about him. Why ruin a perfectly good cup of coffee and perfectly great doughnuts with indigestion-inducing memories?

  She shivered and took a sip of hot coffee and let the warmth slide down her throat, hoping to chase away the chill. Only the chill wasn’t just skin-deep. It was more like a soul-deep ice that had wrapped itself around her heart the day Gertrude had called to say Emily and Dave were dead. No matter how much hot coffee she drank, no matter how many blankets she wrapped up in at night, she couldn’t ever seem to shake it.

  The bell above the door rang as someone stepped into the coffee shop.

  Tess scrunched down in the booth. She wasn’t in the mood for talking, and if it was anyone she knew, that’s what they’d want to do. Whoever it was crossed the room, the sound of heavy boots on tile echoing through the shop.

  “Hey there, Sheriff!” Larry boomed. “What can I get for you this morning?”

  Sheriff?

  As in Cade?

  Of course, Cade. There was only one sheriff in town. He was it.

  “I’ll take a cup of coffee and some information, if you have it.” Cade had a voice as smooth and rich as milk chocolate.

  Tess loved chocolate.

  She slid lower in the booth.

  She wasn’t in the mood to face anyone, and she especially wasn’t in the mood to face the guy she’d mooned over in high school. The guy who still seemed to have the ability to make her insides melt.

  “One coffee. On the house,” Larry responded. “What kind of information are you looking for?”

  “Gertrude McKenzie says her niece is missing. I thought maybe you’d seen her.”

  Oh no!

  No, no, no, no. No!

  “Tessa, missing?” Larry sounded as incredulous as Tessa felt. “She’s right—”

  “Here.” She stood and showed herself because, short of crawling under booths and tables and hightailing it out the door, there was nothing else she could do.

  “Hey,” Cade responded, with an easy smile that flashed his dimple and made her legs go weak. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”