The House on Main Street

by Shirlee McCoy

  “No jaunt, Red. Just curiosity. You never even said good-bye.”

  “You were preoccupied.” She frowned and brushed paint from her arms.

  “So, you had it all planned out? It wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment thing?”

  It had been, but Tess wasn’t going to tell Cade that. She wasn’t going to admit that his announcement had been the catalyst. That she’d actually been looking forward to spending Christmas with her family, or that she’d planned to finish out her senior year of high school even though she already had enough credits to graduate. “You know that I never planned to live in Apple Valley. From the minute I got here, all I wanted to do was go somewhere else.”

  Now that she was back, though, the small-town ways that she’d despised as a kid seemed comforting. Ida stopping by to announce a community tea, Charlotte waving from her house as Tess worked, bringing slices of gingerbread and cups of hot chocolate.

  Cade . . . standing in her house, close enough to touch.

  She fisted her hands, stared out the window again.

  “Tess.” Cade urged her back around. “You didn’t answer my question.” He touched her arm, and she shook her head because she was afraid of what she might say, of the things she might reveal. She wasn’t like her sister; she didn’t need to be taken care of. She didn’t want to be taken care of.

  But she did want Cade. Even after all the years she’d spent telling herself she didn’t, hadn’t, wouldn’t ever again.

  “You should probably go,” she said.

  He nodded, his palm sliding up her arm and cupping her nape, his fingers warm and rough, calloused from his work, but gentle, because he was Cade. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, just a brush of his lips, but it burned through her, made her breath catch and her heart jump.

  She didn’t walk him to the door, just watched as Cade crossed the yard to Zim’s place and got into his truck. Headlights splashed across the yard as he backed out of the driveway and pulled away.

  It took a few more minutes for her to get up the gumption to move. Her legs felt heavy, her chest tight as she grabbed the box and headed upstairs.

  Gertrude was still in the kitchen, humming some old tune, her bony hips gyrating as she shoved a plate into the cupboard.

  Tessa decided not to disturb her. Knowing Gertrude, it would ruin the mood, and they’d be fighting again. She carried the box into Emily’s bedroom and left it on the bed, then walked to Alex’s room. He’d closed the door, and the room beyond was silent.

  “Alex?” She knocked softly, almost hoping that he wouldn’t respond.

  The door opened, and he stood on the threshold, his golden-red hair standing up around his head. He had a few freckles, and his thin face was shaped more like Tessa’s than like Emily’s. As a matter of fact, more than one person had commented on the photo of him that Tess kept on her desk at work, asking if Alex were her son.

  She’d always laughed and said she didn’t have time for kids. She wasn’t laughing now.

  “Can I come in?” she asked, and took his silence as consent.

  His room was neat as a pin. The shelves free of clutter, the piano free of dust. His books were lined up from smallest to largest, thickest to thinnest, the blue duvet on his bed wrinkle-free. The only hint at what he’d been doing was the rocking chair slowing to a stop in the corner.

  “Were you rocking in your chair?” she asked, feeling inane and inept and just a little foolish.

  He stared up at her, his eyes big and Emily-blue.

  “It’s okay if you were. What I mean is, it’s your rocking chair, and of course you can rock in it anytime you want.”

  Good one, Tess. Great piece of motherly advice.

  She cleared her throat. Wondered if Alex was getting as sick of her as she was getting of herself. He was a little boy, after all. Not some exotic creature.

  “Listen,” she tried again. “I wanted to talk to you about what you said downstairs. About looking for your angel. Are you upset that Gertrude donated it?”

  “It’s mine now,” he responded, and he sounded like a young man, not a little boy. Sounded like someone who understood all about death and life, and what happened when the person you loved was gone.

  They hadn’t been giving him enough credit, and that made Tessa feel like an even bigger failure. “I know, and I’m sorry that Ms. Ida has it right now. You know Ms. Ida, right?”

  “She’s the mayor.”

  “Exactly. And she also is the president of the town historical society. She loves everything that has anything to do with Apple Valley.” Great! Now, she was babbling. She pressed her lips together, took a deep breath. “What I mean is, she’s taking good care of it.”

  “The angel is mine.”

  “I know, and you’re going to get her back. There’s going to be a tea at the town hall on Friday. We’re going to have some really wonderful food, and when it’s over, the angel is coming home.”

  “She needs to be here now,” he said as if it all made perfect sense.

  “She can’t be, Alex. Everything is already planned, and it wouldn’t be right to insist that we have her back before the tea.”

  “Why not?”

  Right. Why not?

  “Because people are really excited that they’re going to have a chance to see the angel, and we wouldn’t want to disappoint them.” That was it. All she had. She tensed, waiting for Alex’s reply.

  He rubbed his fingers and thumbs together and looked down at the floor, his head shaking to the left and then to the right.

  “Alex?” She touched one of his hands, and he stilled. “Are you all right with that?”

  “Is everything okay in here?” Gertrude peered into the room, her hair wild, water and soapsuds splattered all over her shirt. She narrowed her eyes and glared at Tessa. “What did you do?”

  “Why are you assuming that I did something?”

  “He looks upset. Are you upset, honey? You come on with Aunty, and I’ll get you a couple of those cookies you like. The one with chocolate candies in them.” She took Alex by the hand and led him out of the room, casting one last hot look in Tessa’s direction.

  There were a lot of things Tessa could have said, but she decided not to. Gertrude wouldn’t listen, and she was too tired to try to make herself heard.

  She turned off the light in Alex’s room and locked herself into Emily and Dave’s.

  She was done for the night.

  She’d scraped paint and played mother and kept her mouth shut when she hadn’t wanted to. Now she was going to get some sleep.

  Hopefully, she wouldn’t dream.

  If she did, she hoped she wouldn’t dream about Emily or Dave.

  Or worse, Cade!

  She walked into the bathroom. Emily’s pride and joy. The one room in the house that she’d actually asked Tessa’s decorating advice on. She and Dave had spent way too much money. Tessa knew that for a fact, seeing as how there was still a stack of bills that needed to be paid.

  The room was gorgeous, though. The paint soft yellow, the claw-foot tub set near corner windows. Not a big room, but a sanctuary with an antique cupboard converted to a sink and a nineteenth-century mirror hung above it. Tessa had refurbished both pieces and sent them from Annapolis for Emily’s birthday in June. She’d never gotten a chance to see her sister enjoy the gifts.

  She ran water into the tub, her palms stinging from all the work she’d done. Her shoulders ached. Her legs hurt. Working out at the gym five days a week hadn’t prepared her for eight hours of hard labor.

  The remodeler had built shelves into the wall, and Emily had stocked them with bath salts and bubble baths. Shampoos. Soaps. Little glass trinkets in a rainbow of colors. Those hadn’t been Tess’s idea, but the small perfume and medicine bottles fit.

  She dropped a handful of bath salts into the water and stripped out of her clothes. In the kitchen, Gertrude was singing in a husky falsetto. Tessa thought she heard Alex singing, too, as she settled into the hot water a
nd let the heat ease away some of the aches and pains.

  Too bad it couldn’t ease heartache and disappointment. If it could, she’d be as good as new when she got out.

  Chapter Nine

  Done.

  Finally!

  Tessa wiped the brush along the last rectangle of siding and stood back to look at her accomplishment. It looked good. Great even. The siding pristine, the gingerbread trim gleaming. Three full days of work, and she’d finally accomplished her goal. The house was no longer the ugliest one on Main Street.

  Not on the outside, at least.

  She still had plenty to do on the inside.

  “Looks good, kid,” Gertrude said. “Now, we have to get going or we’re going to miss the tea, so you go in the house and get cleaned up. I’ll have Alex wrestle into his suit. Hopefully, he hasn’t outgrown it.”

  Right. The tea. The thing that Tessa had been trying to come up with an excuse to not attend.

  “I’m a mess, Gertrude.” She waved her paint-stained hands in front of Gertrude’s face. “It’s going to take me way too long to get cleaned up. You take Alex and go. I’ll meet you there later.”

  Like after everyone else had left.

  “We’ve got to arrive together. What would it look like if we didn’t?” Gertrude smoothed her fuchsia suit jacket and fluffed her hair. She’d finally gone back to Adele, and the woman had made good on her promise to fix the mess she’d made, turning it from pink back to bright orange. Gertrude was pleased with it, so Tess had decided not to point out the fact that her hair and her suit clashed.

  “It will look like one of us was ready to arrive and the other one wasn’t,” Tess replied. “Besides, since when have you ever cared about what anything looked like?”

  “Since we became the keeper of Alex’s legacy.”

  “What legacy?” Tessa asked, exasperated and unable to hide it. “An old house, a big piece of land, and back taxes?”

  “You know it’s more than that, Tess. It’s the name. The history.”

  “You’ve spent a little too much time with Ida.”

  “I haven’t said a word to the woman since she left here the other night,” Gertrude protested.

  “Then what’s with all the talk about legacies? When I was a teenager and wanted to try to find my father—”

  “Father? Is that what you call a guy who gets a woman pregnant and then walks out on her and the kid?”

  “I didn’t care about that. I just wanted to know who he was, and you told me that where I came from wasn’t nearly as important as where I was going.”

  “And I was right. It wouldn’t have done you one bit of good to look for that bastard, but things are different for Alex. He already knows who his family is, and he needs us to make sure that no one ever forgets it.”

  “I don’t think anyone will forget. Not as long as we’re in Apple Valley.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Rule number one for small-town living: Never forget anything.”

  “Ugly doesn’t suit you, Tess.”

  “Neither does a bucket-load of paint.” She held up her hands again. “I’d better get ready.” She grabbed the nearly empty paint can and carried it to the shed. She’d managed to drag several good pieces of furniture from the old building before she’d spotted a nest of mice in the stuffing of a 1950s sofa. She hadn’t been back in the shed since. She set the can right in the open doorway, because there was no way she was going any deeper into the gloomy mouse nursery.

  “They’re just mice, Tess!” Gertrude called from the corner of the house.

  “I hate mice!” she replied.

  “Well, now that Margrave is wandering around, they’ll be gone soon enough.”

  “Margrave is evil,” Tess responded, eyeing the huge tabby cat that was licking its paws a few feet away. Probably cleaning up after a three-course meal of mice. Borrowed from one of Gertrude’s bingo buddies, the cat had narrow yellow eyes and a way of looking at Tess that made her wonder if she was next on the menu.

  “Don’t tell Lottie that. She loves that fat old cat.”

  Margrave stretched, walking over to Tessa and purring as he wove his way through her legs.

  Okay. So maybe he wasn’t as bad as all that.

  “Nice kitty,” she tried.

  He swatted her leg, and she jumped back. “Geez, cat! You either like me or you don’t. You can’t have it both ways.”

  “Stop talking to the cat!” Gertrude yelled. “You have to get ready so we can go.”

  “Okay, okay,” Tess muttered, following Gertrude back around the side of the house.

  “Your boss called while you were on the ladder. Said he wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”

  Tess’s heart jumped, and she stopped in her tracks. “What did you say, Gertrude?”

  “I didn’t say that you were resigning, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Gertrude tapped a cigarette against her thigh but didn’t light it. “You can’t put it off forever, though.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a little busy, Gertrude.” And yeah. Maybe she was a little reluctant to close the door on her old life. She’d been happy in Annapolis. She’d still be happy there if she had a choice.

  “You’ll be busy for the rest of your life, Tess. At some point, you’re going to have to bite the bullet and make the call.”

  “Right now, I need to get ready to go to the historical society’s tea. Give me twenty minutes to take a quick shower and throw on some clean clothes, okay?” she said, cutting off further discussion about her resignation. She’d deal with it. Eventually.

  “You wear a dress or skirt, you hear? We’re representing the Rileys today, and that’s a big deal.”

  Gertrude brushed invisible lint from her skirt. She’d painted her nails. They were a garish red and clashed with her pinkish suit and orange hair. Maybe they’d distract people from the giant shoulder pads in the jacket.

  Not that Tessa cared what people thought of her aunt.

  She’d gotten over that a couple of decades ago.

  “I’ll wear a dress, but don’t expect me to stick my nose in the air and act like royalty.” She tossed the words over her shoulder as she hurried into the house and nearly ran Alex over.

  “Whoa!” She grabbed his arm to keep him from tumbling backward, felt every muscle in his skinny body tensing.

  “Sorry, buddy.” She stepped back, surprised to see that Alex was wearing a dark blue suit and a blue striped tie, his white shirt pristine. “You look good. Did Gertrude tell you to wear that?”

  “No,” he said, swiping his hand over his hair. He’d slicked it down. Hopefully with water.

  “Well then, you have good taste. I’ll be ready in just a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” He followed her up the stairs, loping along after her like a puppy following a new playmate. Following her down the hall. Following her right into Emily and Dave’s room.

  He sat on the bed, his feet not even touching the floor. He was tiny for his age. Puny, even. Looking at him sitting there, his feet swinging to some silent tune, made Tessa’s stomach churn. He was so vulnerable and, she imagined, so easily hurt.

  How in the world could she ever protect him?

  She knew he had some limitations, but Emily had always only talked about his strengths. His gifts. His sweet nature.

  What about the rest?

  She stared at him, but answers didn’t magically appear over his head, and he didn’t suddenly start explaining what made him happy, sad, or excited.

  He was an enigma, and Tessa had to figure him out.

  First, though, she had to get ready.

  She grabbed a black dress from the closet.

  “I have to take a shower. You go on downstairs and wait with Gertrude, okay? I’ll be right out,” she said and hurried into the bathroom. She closed the door firmly behind her, her heart doing a funny little jig as she listened to his footsteps on the wood floor, heard her b
edroom door close quietly. Her eyes burned, her chest heavy with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. It felt like grief and something more. Maybe a smidge of that thing she’d never had. The maternal instinct. The thing that turned ordinary women into mama bears.

  She hoped so. For Alex’s sake.

  He deserved more than what she’d been giving him. That was for sure.

  She showered quickly, dried her hair, and rubbed Emily’s cocoa butter into her hands. It smelled like chocolate. Which made Tessa’s stomach growl and reminded her that she hadn’t eaten lunch. She might not have eaten breakfast, either.

  “Hey!” Gertrude called from outside the door. “You ready? ’Cause we’re going to be late if you don’t hurry.”

  “Give me a minute!” Tess stepped into the dress, pulled it up, and wrestled with the dozen tiny little buttons that ran up the back. Silk and lace, with a boat neckline and three-quarter-length sleeves, the vintage dress had been languishing in the back of an antique store when Tessa had spotted it. It represented 1940s style at its finest, with its pencil skirt and tight bodice and covered buttons that were nearly impossible to reach.

  Darn them!

  She managed all but the last seven or eight.

  Which was why she didn’t wear the dress often. Too difficult for a single woman to manage. She’d have to get Gertrude’s help after she finished applying makeup. No way was she leaving the bathroom before then. She wasn’t in the mood for her aunt’s nagging.

  The doorbell rang, but Tess ignored it as she applied foundation and a light coat of mascara. No amount of makeup could hide the circles under her eyes, so she didn’t bother with concealer, and decided against taming her curls. She ran her fingers through them, stepped away from the mirror and eyed what she could see of herself. Not bad. If she were attending an evening event in Annapolis, her outfit would be perfectly appropriate. Not too dressy. Not too casual. Just the right amount of vintage quirkiness to fit her business persona.

  She wasn’t in Annapolis, though.

  Maybe a skirt and sweater set would be a better choice. She glanced at her watch. The tea had already begun.

  Someone knocked on the door, and she yanked it open, ready to lay into Gertrude for being so impatient.