His mind lingering on Dr. Hyacinth Nelson, he sank into the forest green rocker. Stabbing at another morsel, he set the chair to rocking and decided perhaps a leisurely lunch with Mother Nature and Hyacinth Nelson, in spirit at least, wasn’t a bad idea.
Savoring the last bite, and the view, the mewl of the hungry kitten called. It was time for him to get back to work anyhow. Pushing to his feet, he took one last look at the lake. It might be a good idea to make time to walk one of the paths that led around the shore. Maybe, he smiled, he could talk one pretty veterinarian into joining him. Yes, that was one walk that he would most certainly enjoy. Another mewl and he stopped short. His neck craned, he looked into the cabin at the tiny box, and the sleeping kitten.
“What the heck?”
Another sound and glancing over his shoulder, he searched for where the faint cry had come from. It took another minute and a few more mewls before another gray tabby appeared at the bottom step. Uh oh.
The same as he’d done yesterday, he slowly descended the steps and scooped the little guy up. “Something tells me we were searching for you last night.” Scratching under the squirming kitten’s chin, he glanced around for more siblings. Using his free arm, he shook the shrubs along either side of the porch steps. No sign of any movement.
Surely, if a mama cat had dropped this guy off, she would be somewhere nearby. Cell phone in hand, he dialed and slowly strolled the perimeter of the house for the best reception.
On the second ring, a familiar voice answered. “Lawford Veterinary.”
“Hi. This is Alan.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect you to answer the phone yourself.”
“We are only open half a day on Saturday, and everybody else has gone home. I’m just finishing up some last-minute business, and then I was going to call you.”
“Call me?” His heart did a little jig.
“Yes. Since you’re so fond of my sister’s baking, and she doesn’t sell her Apfel kuchen at the bakery, the family thought you might enjoy joining us for supper tonight. The kuchen is for dessert.”
“I’m sorry, the what?”
Cindy laughed. He really did like that laugh. The mere sound of it made him want to smile. “It’s German apple cake. And seriously delicious. At least it is when she bakes it.”
“I gather you don’t bake?”
He could almost hear her head shaking. “Not for my worst enemy. My talents are not in the kitchen.”
There was no way he was touching that statement with a ten foot pole. “Dinner sounds fine, but I may have a new complication.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You called me. What’s up? Is it the kitten?”
“Not exactly.”
A heavy sigh carried through the phone. “I’m really learning to not like when you say that. What exactly is wrong?”
“Wrong may be a misnomer. But you know that mama kitty we were looking for yesterday?”
“You found her!”
The words not exactly almost slipped past his lips. “No. But it seems our little guy has a sibling. And this guy is squirming a lot more. He’s not very happy.”
“Depending on how far he’s traveled to find you and how long it’s been since his mother left him or lost him, he or she is probably hungry. Go ahead and mix up some of the kitten mash like you’ve been feeding the other one. And I’ll be there in about 20 minutes.”
He bobbed his head. “Will do.”
Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he continued his efforts to calm the little bundle of fur and made his way back up the porch. With this new arrival and Cindy on her way, he was unlikely to get any more writing done. The sound of her laughter replayed in the back of his mind. An image popped into his head of the cute way the bridge of her nose crinkled when something bothered her. Maybe this new turn of events wasn’t such a bad thing at all.
***
“Are you sure they’ll be fine?” Alan asked.
“Absolutely.” Once she’d confirmed both kittens were doing well, she’d convinced Alan to let her show him the lake she’d grown up with firsthand.
“They’re just so little.” He shook his head.
Getting a kick out of this almost fatherly concern from the man who yesterday wanted absolutely nothing to do with one kitten never mind two, she parked behind Hart House and climbed out of the car. “Both are perfectly healthy. Well fed. And have each other to snuggle up to. We’ll only be gone a short while, and then before supper tonight we’ll double check on them, feed them again, and they’ll probably be good for the night.”
“I suppose if anybody would know, it would be you.” He flashed a smile, no doubt intended to build confidence. Whether hers or his, she wasn’t sure.
Just as they reached the front walk, Lucy came flying out the front door and nearly mowed the couple down. “Oh my, I’m so sorry.”
“Slow down. What’s wrong?” Lucy was rarely rattled, and seeing her in such a flurried state sent Cindy’s internal alarms blasting.
“It’s Adeline Taylor. That no good husband of hers.”
“I thought she divorced him.”
“She did. Things were going just fine too.”
“But…?” She waited impatiently for the rest of the story.
“He took his bowling ball.”
“What?” Alan looked more confused than she was.
“She got the contents of the house. He didn’t remove his bowling ball. Afterwards when he asked for it and when she wouldn’t give it to him, he waited for her to be out and let himself in to take it.”
“She didn’t change the locks?” It wasn’t really a question. Adeline had always been a bit on the flighty side.
Hefting her purse over her shoulder again, Lucy shook her head.
“If I may ask,” Alan looked from Cindy to Lucy, “why didn’t she just give him the bowling ball?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Because that would have been too easy. Now she’s having a minor melt down at the thought of being alone in the house until the locksmith comes. I shouldn’t be very long.”
“If it will help,” Alan faced Lucy, “if she has a lock I’ll be happy to change it for her.”
A pleased smile spread across Lucy’s face. “Isn’t that nice of you. Thank you, but a phone call is already into the locksmith. I’ve got a nice bottle of wine in my bag. I’ll have her calmed down and the locks changed in no time.”
“If you’re sure?” Alan waited.
“I’m sure. I feel better already knowing everything is taken care of.” Lucy waggled her fingers at them and hurried up the hill to her car.
“All this commotion over a bowling ball.” Alan tsked. “The husband isn’t dangerous, is he?”
Cindy shook her head. “Not at all. If there were ever two people who were happiest fighting, it was them. If Adeline said the sky was blue, Ed said the sky was green, and they’d spend the next two days arguing over it. I’m not surprised even after the divorce they’re still fighting.”
“Now what?”
“To the boats.” Cindy led the way down the point.
Looking from side to side, Alan nodded softly. “Boy, the view is just as beautiful from this vantage point as it is from on top of the hill.”
“Absolutely. There’s no such thing as a bad view on Lake Lawford.” Stopping on the edge of the stone wall, she waved an arm. “Your ride, sir.”
Alan peered over the edge. “The canoe or the paddleboat?”
“Oh heavens, the paddleboat.” She nudged him along the wall to the stairs. “If we took the canoe, knowing Lucy, she’s liable to pop out from under the water and steal the oars.”
“Why in heavens name would she do that?”
“It’s a long story with its roots in an almost obsessive love of confined spaces and Hello Dolly.”
Closing one eye, Alan studied her with the other one. “I’m not making the connection, and part of me isn’t sure I want to.”
“Now you’re catching on.” She laughed. “Let’s
just leave it at the truth really can be stranger than fiction.”
“Don’t I know that.” He climbed into the small boat beside her and decided this was definitely a more pleasant way to spend the afternoon than staring at his computer screen.
Secured to the point by two ropes, the paddleboat rocked with her movement as she loosened the first tie. First rope undone, her phone rang and she juggled answering and untying the second. “Hello?”
“I’d swear if this head weren’t attached to my shoulders it would roll off some days.” Lucy sounded frantic. “I forgot the roast is in the oven on high temps to sear the juices. I need you to please lower it to 300 degrees. I’ll adjust as necessary when I get back.”
“Will do. Even I can manage that.”
“Of course you can, dear. You’re a doctor of veterinary medicine. The concept of turning a knob should not escape you. If I’m delayed for any reason, your grandmother and the General should be back from their monthly shopping spree to Boston in time to deal with dinner.”
“Understood. Don’t worry.” The call disconnected, Cindy turned. “If you wait here one minute, I’m going to run back to the house and lower the oven temps. It shouldn’t take me but a few minutes.”
Moving quickly, Cindy hurried into the house, zeroed in on the large oven and quickly turned the knob down to 300 as requested. Spinning on her heel, she retraced her steps and smiled at the nice guy in the boat. Too bad he wasn’t going to be around longer; she wouldn’t mind getting to know him a lot better.
“That was quick.” He reached out to help her into the boat.
“Now you’ll get to see the lake up close and personal.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Together they pedaled away from the stone wall and made their way into the deeper water.
“It’s amazing how small the main house looks from here, and yet it stands tall and proud nonetheless.”
“Yes it does.” From almost anywhere on the lake Hart House could be seen. Much of the shoreline had changed since her childhood, but not Hart Land. She took him on a path directly across and around into a familiar cove, then pointed. “See that?”
Alan squinted at the distance. “Am I looking for something in particular?”
“All of it.” She waved her arm from left to right. “That used to be Carter land.”
“Why does that sound familiar?”
“Did you read about the factory scandal? The spoiled rich brat who risked his family’s legacy for some fast under the table money?”
“Oh, yes.” He nodded. “My grandfather mentioned it. Something about illegal dumping.”
“My cousin Violet’s fiancé and his company have stepped in to expedite testing and clean up.”
“Nice.”
“More than nice. A huge portion of the land that was unaffected is going to be donated for the Lawford Mountain Preserve and Sanctuary. It’s why that particular part of the dream has gone from a wish list to a countywide street fair.”
Smiling at her, his gaze leveled more intensely on the landscape around them. “The flyer.”
“It should be a blast. There are a handful of towns around the mountain that are going to be doing it on the same day. There’s going to be petting zoos for the kids, and face painting, and there’s a balloon artist coming, all of whom have donated their time, and all the stores will have their wares out in front and a percent of the profits are going to the construction fund for the first building.”
“I don’t know that I’ve ever been to a true small-town festival, but it sounds like it’ll be very successful.”
“I hope so. If we can raise enough to start with a small clinic and education center, I’ll be thrilled.”
“I’m willing to bet your sister’s bakery alone is going to have a bumper crop of sales to donate. I’d like to help. It’ll be a while before this next book is ready for sale, but I’d be honored if you’d let me earmark some of the earnings towards this project.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” It made her heart light that so many people wanted to help with this dream of hers. Not that she expected much of a donation from a role-playing, aspiring author and a book that who knew if he’d ever get around to finishing. But still, it was the thought that counted. She was right from the beginning. Alan Peterson was just a really nice guy.
Chapter Eight
“I can certainly understand why you love the lake so much.” Not since his brief stint as a Boy Scout had Alan played with knots. Well, that wasn’t totally true. He had an occasion or two with Harvey, but not the same as tying a boat to a dock. Following Cindy up the ladder, he did his best to keep his eyes on his feet. The woman sure knew how to wear a pair of jeans. “I will admit, I should have gotten out of the cabin sooner.”
“I hope this means you’ll come back.” At the top of the Point wall, she stood grinning down at him, her cheeks tinged a pale shade of pink.
If she kept looking at him like that he might not want to leave. “I hope so too.”
“Good.” She spun around and paused. Cocking her head to one side, she glanced at her watch. “It’s been almost an hour. I would’ve thought somebody would be home by now.”
“Maybe they are.”
“No cars around.”
“Does this mean you’re making the sides for dinner?” he teased.
She turned to face him and continued walking backwards. “You really don’t want that. Cooking edible meals and I are not on a first name basis.”
“Not even a tossed salad?” He wondered how she wasn’t tripping over the exposed roots and uneven ground below her. “Do you do this a lot?”
Her gaze narrowed at him. “Avoid cooking?”
“No.” He pointed to the ground behind her. “Walk backwards without looking and without falling down.”
“Oh, that.” Again, she spun around, only this time took off running and called over her shoulder, “I can run with my eyes closed too.”
By the time he caught up with her at the front porch, he was out of breath. It had been ages since he’d had to run anywhere. Even so, he couldn’t stop laughing. When was the last time he’d had this much fun?
“Oh, no!”
The smell of burn and smoke slapped him in the face at about the same time Cindy made a dash across the foyer. The loud shrill enhanced the speed of his racing heart. Only a step behind her in the kitchen, he knew right away what the problem was. Tendrils of smoke seeped from the edges of the oven. “Don’t open that!”
The hand holding a potholder froze midway to the offensive appliance. “Why?”
“It’s contained. If you don’t have a fire yet, letting oxygen in could start one. Give me a second.” He quickly scanned the impressive kitchen and spotted the extinguisher. Grabbing it out of its holder, he moved quickly to her side. “I think I see the problem.”
“The problem is the oven is on fire.”
“Not quite.” He turned to the two knobs and motioning for her to step aside, eased the door ajar. “Open the windows.”
She tore off toward the sink and shoved open the first window, quickly gliding sideways toward the next. “What the hell happened?”
Hands covered with Teflon mitts, he waved the smoke away from his face a moment before pulling out the pan and setting it down on the stone beside him. A slab of charcoal stared back at him.
All the windows and back door now open, Cindy came to stand beside him. “It’s ruined.”
“Maybe.” He turned on the fan and continued waving at the lingering smoke.
Her hands on her hips, Cindy shook her head. “There is no maybe about it. But why?”
“Wrong oven.” He continued waving at the smoke, considering the options.
“I’m sorry. What?” Stepping back, Cindy picked up a card from the counter to help fan the smoke away.
“You turned the temperature knob on the lower oven.” He pointed to the control on the upper left. “The roast was in the top oven.” He shifted his f
inger to point to the right.
Cindy threw her head back and sighed. “This is why I don’t cook.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Anyone could have made that mistake.”
The glare she shot in his direction could have withered steel.
“Just trying to help.”
“What are you doing now?” She continued to wave at the smoke. At least the danged alarm had stopped.
Stabbing at the charred meat with a large fork and knife, he pulled the roast apart. “Determining if we can salvage this.”
“You’re kidding?” Her eyes opened wide. “Or you’re blind.”
“No and no. And I think once we cut off the layers of black we can salvage enough for hash.” Setting the utensils down beside him, he pushed his sleeves up and turned to her. “We’ve got work to do. I’ll need some potatoes. Where’s the pantry?”
She stood rooted to the floor. “You cook?”
“Don’t look so surprised.” He flashed his best impish grin. “I have to do something with all those practice roasts.”
***
“Good grief, is Lucy sick?”
“Rose!” The familiar voice had Cindy spinning around and dropping the fan. Of all her cousins, Rose and Zinnia were the two that had the most difficulty making it back to the lake to visit. Having one of them here was more than a pleasant surprise. “What miracle happened to bring you here?”
“Oh Lord, don’t ask.” Twisting her long red hair into a bun and clipping it behind her head, Rose blew out a heavy sigh. “We’ve got two weeks until the new exhibit opens, we have a huge fundraising auction scheduled for this Thursday, and the blasted paintings are stuck in customs. Still.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” Alan stood by the sink filling a pot with water for the potatoes.
Twisting around, Rose seemed to notice for the first time that somebody else was in the room. “Hi.”
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