The House on Main Street

by Shirlee McCoy

  Only Gertrude wasn’t standing on the other side of the door.

  Cade was, and man, did he look yummy. His black suit fit perfectly, his hair just a little ruffled.

  “What are you doing here?” she sputtered, holding the bodice of the dress to her chest like some young Victorian miss. Good God! Could she be any more idiotic? This was a guy she’d skinny-dipped with when she was twelve. He wasn’t going to be shocked by a glimpse of skin.

  “Ida asked me to make sure your family was coming to tea.”

  “That doesn’t explain what you’re doing outside my bathroom door.” She let her hands drop away from the bodice. The tight-fitting top didn’t so much as slide, but Cade’s eyes did. From her face to her chest.

  She should be disgusted. If he were any other guy, she would be, but because it was Cade, her toes curled and her insides turned to mush.

  “Gertrude sent me to get you. She said you’re taking too damn long.” He scanned her from head to toe. “I say it was well worth the wait.”

  “Thanks. You can tell her I’m almost ready.”

  “Sorry. Not going to happen. She told me, and I quote, bring that girl down here or I’ll have your hide.”

  “Since when are you afraid of Gertrude?”

  “I wouldn’t say it was fear, exactly. Just a little healthy respect. Turn around.”

  “What?”

  “Turn around. I’ll get the zipper so we can get out of here.”

  “It’s not a—”

  “Just let me do this before my phone starts ringing with Ida’s calls and Gertrude comes up to bust my balls.”

  “That rhymed,” she said, and he chuckled, snagging her arm and dragging her around.

  “We can make a song out of it after I get you to that tea. Now, hold still so I can do this.” His cool fingers skimmed her back. Her very naked back. Her toes curled, her palms itched. She wanted to spin on her heels and throw herself into his gorgeous arms.

  She held her ground, though.

  Because she wasn’t into making a fool of herself. Although, if he didn’t hurry it up, she just might change her mind about that.

  “Damn, these buttons are tiny,” he murmured, his voice husky, his fingers trailing up her spine. Rough, calloused fingers that were probably snagging the vintage lace. She tried to make herself care, but there was something altogether too wonderful about those fingers against her skin. His knuckles skimmed her nape, his breath tickling her hair.

  And, dear God, she felt like a teenager again. Felt that same little zing of excitement that she’d experienced then.

  Only it wasn’t such a little zing anymore. It was a big, huge, change-your-life kind of zap.

  “Done. I’ll meet you downstairs,” he said, leaving her standing where she was.

  She heard him walking down the hall, heard the stair at the top of the steps creak. She was ready. She could have followed him down, but she brushed a little blush on her already pink cheeks. Smoothed one of her brows, took a couple of deep breaths, waiting until her heart slowed and she felt . . . settled again.

  She grabbed her purse and slid her feet into two-inch stiletto boots, spritzed herself with a little of the perfume that had been her last birthday present from Kent. Extravagant and expensive, he’d had it created specifically for her. He hadn’t cared that she didn’t usually wear perfume or that she’d asked for an antique rolltop desk that she’d been eyeing for a year.

  She’d cared, but she’d accepted the gift like she had most of the things Kent gave her. With a smile and a thank-you and a few minutes of wondering what in the hell he’d been thinking.

  “Tess!” Gertrude shouted from the bottom of the steps. “Do not make me come up there and drag you down.”

  “I’m not ten, Gertie!” Tess hollered back, shoving her arms into the sleeves of her coat. She’d wasted as much time as she could. She was going to have to accept the inevitable and go to the tea. No matter how much she didn’t want to. She sighed and reluctantly headed downstairs.

  Chapter Ten

  High heels on wood floors. If a sound could be sexy, that one was. Cade glanced up the stairs, his heart skipping a few beats as Tess walked into view. She wore the kind of boots that were meant for show—black leather that stopped just below her dress. A hint of knee peeked out every time she took a step. That glimpse of skin was a hell of a lot sexier than ten inches of thigh would have been.

  “It’s about time,” Gertrude barked, her frizzy orange hair nearly tamed, her bright pink suit almost fitting her scrawny frame. She looked just like Cade had imagined she would when Ida had asked him to drive by and make sure the McKenzies and Alex were heading over to the tea.

  Tessa didn’t look anything like he’d imagined. He thought she’d be wearing an understated pants suit or a black skirt and sweater. Instead, she wore a dress that fit like a glove and buttoned all the way up her spine. Black lace over creamy skin. It had taken all he’d had to keep his hands from doing more than closing those damn small buttons.

  “It took me”—Tess glanced at a slim silver watch—“twenty-two minutes. How long did it take you, Gertrude?”

  “That has nothing to do with it. I was ready when it was time to leave.” Gertrude patted her hair again, smoothed her pink skirt.

  “I would have been, too, if I hadn’t been finishing up the painting,” Tess pointed out, the scent of some exotic perfume drifting on the air as she walked past Cade and touched her nephew’s shoulder.

  “Are you ready, Alex?” she asked.

  “Yes.” Alex walked outside, his coat bunched around his shoulders, the bottom of a suit jacket showing beneath it. He looked uncomfortable and a little awkward.

  “What do you think about this tea thing, Alex?” Cade asked as he followed the family outside.

  Alex shrugged.

  “Alex, answer the sheriff properly,” Gertrude chided, her tone gentler than any Cade had heard when she was raising Emily and Tess.

  “It’s okay,” Cade started to say, but Alex glanced back, his hand on the door handle of Gertrude’s old blue Pontiac.

  “I like tea,” he said. “And music.”

  “There will probably be some of both. Cookies, too. Charlotte made them, and they’re really good. Don’t tell anyone, but I snagged two before the tea started.” Cade had also grabbed a slice of gingerbread from a platter Charlotte set out.

  He’d been hungry, and she was a great baker.

  “Never take things without asking,” Alex responded solemnly. The kid liked rules. That was for sure.

  “Don’t worry. I asked.” She’d said no, but could Cade help it if she’d left the treats sitting out unattended?

  “Enough chitchat. Let’s get this show on the road.” Gertrude opened the car door and shooed Alex in. “Get in there now, and put your seat belt on.”

  He moved slowly, settling into the seat and pulling his coat over his knees. When he was done, he leaned over and touched the car floor, then his knees, then the floor again.

  “Seat belt,” Gertrude prodded and closed the door with her hip. “You going to the tea, Cade?”

  “Ida gave me direct orders to escort you there, so I guess I don’t have a choice.”

  “There’s no need for an escort. I think we can find our way,” Tessa said as she rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat, showing off more than a glimpse of knee. Her thighs were as smooth and creamy as her back had been. Flawless. Touchable.

  He clenched his fists and got in the truck, opening the window to cool his heated blood. He pulled in behind Gertrude’s car, keeping a slow pace up Main Street, past the police station and out toward the edge of town.

  Town hall sat on a bluff that overlooked Apple Valley, the Greek Revival–style building gleaming white in the setting sun. The parking lot was nearly full. At least sixty cars. That was a good turnout for a last-minute event, but it didn’t surprise Cade. Ida had a way of making things happen.

  Tess parked between a yellow VW Bu
g and a black Corvette. Cade pulled into an open spot a dozen yards away. It was farther from the building, but he caught up to the family before they reached the wide front porch. Christmas lights were wrapped around the railing and windows, the multicolored display one that Cade had seen every Christmas season for as long as he could remember.

  “It looks the same,” Tessa murmured, and he wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or to herself.

  “You know how it is around here. Things don’t change unless they have to.”

  “If it’s not broke, don’t fix it?” she asked, offering a quick smile. She looked nervous, her eyes shadowed and wary. He guessed he’d be nervous, too, if he had to face a bunch of people he hadn’t seen in years and who would probably wait anxiously for an opportunity to whisper about clothes, hairstyle, wrinkles, or weight.

  He held the door open, letting Alex and Gertrude precede him. Tessa hesitated, biting her lip and craning her neck to see inside.

  “Don’t worry, Red,” he whispered in her ear. “They don’t bite.”

  “No, they just gossip and gawk.” She sighed.

  “You’re a beautiful, successful woman who has come back to town to raise her nephew. Who cares if they gawk and gossip?” He pressed a hand to her back, urging her into the massive entryway. Built in the 1920s, town hall had retained all of its stately charm: marble floors and wide stairs that led to offices on the second story. Large meeting rooms opened out on either side of the entry.

  There were people everywhere, and Cade didn’t mind one bit that Tess kept close, her arm brushing his, her perfume tickling his nose. She smelled like a garden at midnight, flowery and just slightly mysterious.

  Christmas music played from an intercom that had been installed in the 1970s. People talked and laughed. Gertrude and Alex had already disappeared into the crowd. He hoped they were making their way to Ida. She’d planned a speech and a presentation of the angel to the community. Sure, it was for show, and the angel was going to be returned to the family, but that hadn’t dampened Ida’s enthusiasm.

  Charlotte was in the room to the right, doling out her baked goods and talking to whoever stopped for a snack.

  “Want something to eat?” he asked Tessa.

  She shook her head, the deer-in-the-headlights look on her face. “I . . . think I’ll get some water.”

  She sidled past a group of people who didn’t make any secret of the fact that they were staring at her. Gawkers and gossips to the person, but she held her head high and just kept going.

  Cade followed because he couldn’t think of any reason not to. Life had been quiet since Darla had walked out three years ago—no complications, no troubles. A few dates with a few nice women who had been undemanding and easy to please. Lately, though, his house had been too quiet, his nights too lonely, and he didn’t see any reason to keep things that way.

  A few people called his name and waved as he made his way down the hall. He nodded and smiled but didn’t stop.

  Double doors led into a huge kitchen. Remodeled in the 1970s, the room was one of the ugliest Cade had ever seen. Mustard-yellow appliances, linoleum floors, and countertops that were so scuffed and worn they looked like weird abstract art.

  Four round tables took up most of the floor space, each surrounded by metal folding chairs. A large window looked out onto the back of the property and the spruce trees that had been hung with white Christmas lights. Golden sunlight spread across the dusky sky, illuminating the small herb and vegetable garden that Ida had planted a decade ago. Like so many places in Apple Valley, town hall never seemed to change.

  Cade didn’t mind, but the monotony drove some people away. Darla, for one. His brother Tanner for another.

  And Tess.

  She opened a cupboard and grabbed a white coffee cup, apparently content to pretend that he wasn’t there.

  Too bad he didn’t like to be ignored.

  “There’s coffee in the ballroom,” he pointed out, and she shrugged just like her nephew had.

  “It’s quieter in here.”

  “There are a lot of people who are eager to talk to you. Hiding out in here isn’t going to change that.”

  “No, but it’s been a long week. I’m tired. A little coffee before I face the masses of curious people is a necessity.” She lifted the carafe from a coffeemaker that had probably been plugged in in the eighties and stayed plugged in twelve hours a day, six days a week ever since.

  “Not curious. Excited. Seeing the Riley place put to rights is making a lot of people really glad you came back to town.” He’d been hearing murmurs all over town. People were talking about how hardworking Tessa was, how smart and thrifty to do the work herself rather than paying to have it done. She was the prodigal returned, and everyone in town seemed to be willing to open their arms to her.

  The problem was, Tess didn’t seem all that eager to step into any of them.

  “That’s . . . nice.” She sipped coffee, her ankles crossed, her dress skimming her hips and thighs. She’d left her hair loose, and it fell in deep red curls to her shoulders, glossy, shiny, more than a little touchable. “There’s still a lot to do on the inside. Another couple of weeks’ worth of work. Once the ground thaws, I can start working on the landscaping.”

  “You have big plans. People around here will be happy to hear that.”

  “I’m not all that interested in what makes people around here happy.” She looked into her coffee cup and frowned. “That didn’t come out quite the way I wanted it to.”

  “How did you want it to come out?”

  “Just . . . I spent most of my childhood running around after Emily, making sure she didn’t cause problems and that if she did, I cleaned them up. I cared a lot about what the town thought of us. The old clothes we had to wear. The peeling siding on our house. The fact that we were always those poor little McKenzie girls. Everyone pitied us, and I hated it.” She shook her head, and Cade was surprised at the sadness in her eyes.

  “Hated it? You used to thumb your nose at everyone, Tess. Remember how we used to laugh at the rich kids?”

  “Sure.” She topped off her coffee, held the cup between her palms. “But it wasn’t really all that funny to me, and you were one of the rich kids. I just didn’t hold it against you.”

  “Rich? My father was the sheriff and my mom was a homemaker. We barely had two sticks to rub together.”

  “You had each other, Cade. That’s way more than I ever had.”

  “Tess—”

  “The caffeine has probably kicked in, and I should probably go out and face the hordes,” she said, turning her back to him and rinsing her cup in the chipped porcelain sink.

  “I hate to tell you this, but Ida stopped buying caffeinated coffee about five years ago.”

  “Oh.” She turned, laughing, all the sadness gone.

  But he’d seen a glimpse of the girl she’d been, and it surprised him. All the things they’d shared, all the dreams and secrets they’d told each other, and he’d never known just how much Tess had wanted the things he’d taken for granted. Family and love. Security.

  Now that he’d seen it, he wouldn’t forget.

  She must have known that, because she didn’t meet his eyes as they walked out of the kitchen together.

  She stopped to chat with a few people on the way through the hall. Cade stood beside her, not really listening. He was still thinking about the past. How young they’d both been, how oblivious he’d been.

  “Good evening, Sheriff!” Reverend Jethro Fisher bellowed as he and his wife, Natalie, wove their way through the crowded entryway.

  Thin-faced and gangly, Jethro looked like a younger, happier version of Abraham Lincoln.

  “Hi, Jethro. Natalie. How are things at Apple Valley Community Church?” Cade asked, smiling at the couple. They’d moved from Mississippi a few years ago, taking over when old Reverend Scotts had retired. It had taken a good year for them to be accepted by the townspeople. They’d proven to be kind and cha
ritable, with just enough humor to help them survive the tight-knit community.

  “Why don’t you come this Sunday morning and find out? If I recall correctly, you haven’t graced the door of our beautiful church for a month,” Jethro responded with a grin.

  “Hon, leave the poor guy alone. You know he works most Sundays.” Natalie elbowed her husband, her dark eyes flashing with humor. Small and fragile-looking, Natalie had enough energy to keep up with her husband, their congregation, and the tenants who rented rooms in their parsonage.

  “You can’t fault a pastor for trying, my dear.” Jethro wrapped his arm around Natalie’s waist and kissed her head. “Besides, I’m just looking out for my congregation. It will be much safer on Sundays with a sheriff in the pews.”

  Cade laughed at that. He had to give the reverend credit. He knew how to stick with a topic. “You know I come when I can, Jethro. If I’m not there, half my deputies are. Plus, the way I hear it, you’re packing heat.”

  “Not on Sunday, but I was a sniper in the army, so I know my way around a firearm.” Jethro’s gaze jumped from Cade to a point just beyond his shoulder. “How is Tessa holding up?”

  “She seems to be doing okay.” Cade turned in the direction Jethro was looking and just managed to catch a glimpse of Tessa disappearing into one of the banquet rooms.

  “Such a shame about Emily and Dave,” Natalie chimed in, her eyes filled with sorrow. “They were lovely people.”

  “That’s what everyone is saying. Now that they’re gone.” Not many people in town would have said it before they’d died. Cade sure wouldn’t have.

  “Death often makes friends of even bitter enemies. Besides, people in town know that Emily and Dave tried,” Jethro said, his tone suddenly serious. “You and Tess are pretty close, aren’t you?”

  “We used to be,” Cade responded, hoping that would be enough to satisfy the reverend. He liked Jethro and Natalie, but they had a way of getting involved in the lives of everyone.

  “Do she and Gertrude need anything? Maybe some help around the house? Natalie and I could ask the congregation to hold a workday. We could get that placed fixed up quick,” Jethro offered.