CHAPTER SEVEN
Des’s instincts had been right on the money. Allie and Cara had grilled her good-naturedly for an hour after she got home, and she suspected they’d be ready for her again first thing in the morning. She rose extra early, got dressed, and crept down the steps. She brought her coffee into the office, where she resumed her search for something that would help them identify the artist who’d painted the theater’s walls and ceiling. She’d carefully gone through half a dozen files when she heard a crunching sound near the office door.
“So not even a little zip when he kissed you good night?” Allie took a bite from the English muffin in her hand.
“It was a very short kiss. Hardly a kiss at all.” Des glanced up to see both her sisters enter the room, Allie in shorts and a T-shirt, Cara in a long sleep shirt. “Gee, Allie, you’re completely dressed and it isn’t even noon.”
“I have to run a few errands.” Allie turned to Cara. “Could I borrow your car?”
“Sure. I’m not going anywhere today.”
“Thanks.” Allie smiled at Cara, then asked, “The first time you kissed Joe, what was it like?”
“Like picking up a live wire and being tossed across the room.”
“That’s chemistry.” Allie wagged her eyebrows and took another bite of her muffin.
“And when was the last time you kissed anyone, chemistry or no?” Des folded her arms on the desktop.
“Oh God, what year is it?” Allie put her head back dramatically. “It’s been so long I can’t even remember. But”—she leveled her gaze at Des—“I know what chemistry feels like. Believe me, once you feel that zap, you don’t forget it. And it’s either there or it isn’t. You can’t make it happen.”
Des rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m being schooled by two women who are divorced.”
“The divorce wasn’t my idea,” Allie and Cara protested at the same time. They laughed and high-fived each other.
“All I’m saying is that chemistry is really important, and if it isn’t there, the relationship is not going to work.”
“There is no relationship yet, Allie. You’re getting ahead of yourself. I had one dinner with Greg. Who knows what will develop?” Des raised her mug to her lips. “Just because that one short kiss didn’t turn me into a puddle of mush doesn’t mean it never will.”
“Not gonna hold my breath,” Allie said.
“It sounds like you like this guy,” Cara noted.
Des sighed. “I do. He’s interesting and he’s just my type.”
“Well, that’s good. I hope it works out for you.”
“So what is your type, Desdemona Hudson?” Allie asked.
“Ummm, I like cute more than handsome. Preppy. Smart.”
“Ahhh, right.” Allie nodded. “Khakis. Blue—or in a pinch, white—cotton button-down shirts rolled up to the elbow. Navy polos and Docksiders. Glasses optional.”
“Yes. Those things. And I like someone who keeps me on my toes. Surprises me,” Des added.
“So what about Greg surprises you?” Allie asked.
“That he had an athletic scholarship to go to Althea.” Des started to take a sip of her coffee when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.” Des went down the hall and looked through the glass in the door before opening it.
“Hey, Ben. What’s up?” Des said as she glanced down at the big brown dog that was shaking all over but sitting next to Ben. “Oh, who’s your friend?”
“No idea. Someone picked her up out past the lake this morning and brought her to the police station. She has a collar but no tags. I took her over to the vet, but Doc Trainor says she doesn’t have a chip and he didn’t recognize her. He did say that the pads of her feet looked worn, like she’s run a long way or been out on her own for a while. So I’m bringing the dog to you.”
“Here, girl. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” Des knelt and held out her hand, but the dog merely hung her head. “She’s a chocolate Lab, and as a breed they’re usually pretty friendly. But she seems awfully tentative.”
“I thought so, too. Like she’s not sure if you’re going to help her or hurt her.”
“You’re a pretty girl,” Des told the dog in her softest voice, but the dog kept her head down. “Aw, was someone mean to you, sweetie?”
“Well, well. Nothing like an early-morning visit from the local lawman to start your day with a smile.” Allie stood in the doorway. “What’s up, Sheriff? Showing off a new friend?”
“She’s a stray, and Ben did the right thing by bringing her here,” Des said over her shoulder as she continued to try to soothe the dog.
“And how’s Girl today?” Allie leaned against the doorjamb, her coffee mug in hand.
“She’s not Girl anymore. I finally found the right name for her.” Ben made no attempt to hide the fact that he was staring at Allie’s bare legs.
“Really? Do tell.”
“She’s Lulu now.”
“Lulu,” Allie repeated flatly, one eyebrow arching ever so slightly.
“Yeah. It’s a great name. When I was growing up, our neighbor had a black-and-white dog named Lulu.”
“Ah, still a little short on originality, eh?”
Ben scowled. “I was honoring an old friend.”
“Well, I guess that’s understandable, since most of your friends are probably four-footed.”
Ben’s smile was slow and sure. “Hey, you always know where you stand with a dog.”
Allie laughed before turning her back and shutting the door.
“Ben, don’t pay any attention to her.” Des looked up. Ben was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at the closed door. “Allie has that effect on a lot of people. Now, what to do with this little girl.”
“Not so little. She weights forty-one pounds. But the vet did say she’d been spayed.”
“She’s underweight. She should be between fifty-five and seventy pounds.” Des stood. “I’m going to have to find a place to keep her until we can find her a permanent home.”
She bit her bottom lip, knowing she would have to find not only a foster home, but a permanent one as well. Tough to do without a network, and she really didn’t want to approach Barney to take in another stray. While Buttons had worked out perfectly, asking to bring another dog, and a large one at that, into the house was probably pushing her luck.
“I guess it would be too much to ask you to keep her for a while?” Des was pretty sure she knew the answer before she even asked.
“Can’t do it. My apartment is crowded enough with the last homeless dog I was talked into taking.” Ben hastened to add, “Not that I have any regrets. I really like my dog. She’s good company. It’s nice to have someone around, especially at night, even if that someone is a dog.”
Des nodded. Ben had lost his wife and child to a drunk driver a few years earlier, the tragic accident being made even more horrible by the fact that the driver of the car that killed them was Joe Domanski’s alcoholic father, who also died in the accident.
“Seth has lots of room out at his place. Maybe he could take her until I can figure out what to do with her,” Des said, thinking out loud. “I’ll text him.”
Des sent a quick message to Seth, asking if he could take another dog temporarily, then waited hopefully for Seth’s response. Des brought the dog water and a handful of Buttons’s kibble to see if she was hungry. Normally a dog that had been on the run and was so obviously undernourished would be eager to drink and to eat, but this one’s head remained down, as if afraid to go for it without permission, though her eyes were on the food in Des’s hand.
“Here, it’s okay, baby. This is for you.” Des moved her hand closer to the dog, who finally looked up at Des with the saddest eyes she’d ever seen. “This girl was tormented. I bet some yahoo with a sick sense of humor put food out for her, then punished and bullied her for going after it. No wonder she’s underweight.”
“I’ll never understand people.” Ben nodded thoughtfully. “There’s room in my jail for whoever mistreated her.”
“It would be tough to prove legally, especially since we have no idea where she came from, but it’s pretty obvious that this girl’s been abused. She’s still shaking.” Des pushed the bowl of water closer but the dog still hesitated before lowering her head and drinking. “At least she’s taking water. That’s a good sign.”
Ben waited until the dog finished, then tried to pet her, but she shied away.
Des’s phone pinged, and she swiped the screen to read the message. “Seth said bring her out and we’ll see if she gets along with Ripley.” She looked over at Ben. “Is he the best or what?”
“Des, I think you could ask Seth to take fifty dogs, and he’d take them in just to please you.”
Des ignored the obvious intent and replied, “Seth’s a dog lover and he has lots of space, that’s all.”
“If you say so.”
“Let me get my bag and a handful of treats . . . oh wait, I have no car. Cara is the only one of us who brought her wheels.”
“I’ll drive you out. Get your stuff and let’s go. I’m covering for one of my patrol officers at ten, though, and it’s already nine twenty, so we have to hustle.”
“Be right back.” Des went into the house, explained to Cara where she was going, and grabbed her bag and a handful of treats.
Between Des and Ben, they were able to coax the dog into the back seat of the car. Des sat with her, talking softly to her all the way to Seth’s farm.
“I see Seth has one of his many manly toys out this morning,” Ben said when they pulled into the driveway at the farm. He pointed out the window. “That man loves that ride-on mower of his. I swear he cuts the grass every time it grows half an inch.”
The mower turned back toward the drive, and as it drew near, Seth waved. Des waved back and got out of the car, taking a deep breath of air scented by freshly cut grass.
“Hey, guys.” Seth drove the mower to the edge of the driveway, then cut the motor. He hopped off and peered into the back seat of Seth’s car. “That’s the new dog?”
Des nodded. “I’m not sure if she’s afraid or stubborn, but she doesn’t want to come out of the car.” She turned back to the dog. “Come on, sweetie,” Des cooed. “You’re going to stay here for a little bit.”
Seth whistled, and a moment later, Ripley dashed around the corner of the house.
“Oh look, there’s Ripley,” Des told the dog, who was refusing to budge. “He’s going to be your new friend.”
Tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth, Ripley made a mad dash for Des, then stopped at the open car door when he picked up the scent of the Lab. His tail merrily wagging, he climbed halfway into the car to greet the newcomer. When the Lab turned her head away, he gently nudged her as if to say, “Hey, look at me! I’m a fun guy! Let’s play!” Finally the Lab swung her head around and whined softly.
“She’s scared and she doesn’t know where she is or what’s happening,” Seth observed. He stood behind Des and watched his dog attempt to lure the Lab out of the car. Finally, as if resigned to her unknown fate, the dog jumped out and stood at Des’s side on the grass. Ripley did his best to make the dog play, running around her and barking, but she didn’t budge.
“It’s okay, girl. You can play,” Des urged her. Looking up at Seth, she said, “She’s probably weak and tired, and I know she’s got to be hungry, but she seemed afraid to eat.”
Seth watched the Lab for a moment. “I’ve got just the thing.” He turned and jogged to the house.
Moments later he returned with a plastic container in his hands. He opened the lid and stood in front of the dog. “Chicken,” he explained to Des and Ben.
“Good move, feeding Rip first,” Des observed, “so the Lab knows it’s okay to take it. I think you’re a natural.” She knelt next to the dog, who this time did not shrink away, though she did shake slightly with trepidation at Des’s touch.
“Thanks. I learned everything I know from Ripley.” Seth petted his dog on the head. “And from you.”
“Well, glad this is working out for you,” Ben said, “but I have to get back into town.”
Des hesitated. The dog had accepted food and was beginning to let her guard down a little, but Des wasn’t sure how the Lab would react if she left so soon.
“I’ll take you back, Des, if you want to stay with her for a while,” Seth offered.
“Are you sure? I know you must have other things to do.”
“Nothing that can’t wait,” he assured her.
“Well, good. That’s settled.” Ben closed the car door that Des had left open. “Des, good luck. I hope you find a permanent home for her, but I think you need to have a plan in place if you’re going to insist on strays being brought to you instead of taken to that shelter over in Churchill.”
“I looked into that place.” Des stood. “It’s overcrowded, the staff is poorly trained, and if an animal is not claimed in the first month, it’s euthanized. I would never take an animal there.”
“Well, then, come up with an alternative. You can’t keep expecting Seth to bail you out every time a stray wanders into Hidden Falls.”
“I think I can speak for myself, but thanks, bro.” Seth stepped up to the car.
“Just pointing out the obvious, my friend,” Ben muttered. He closed the car door and started the engine.
“He’s right, you know,” Des said as they watched Ben back out of the driveway. “I need some sort of a plan. I can’t keep looking to you every time a stray’s picked up.”
Seth stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “Why not?” he asked.
“Because . . . because it’s a big responsibility. A big undertaking.”
“Right now, it’s just one extra dog.” He nodded in the direction of the front lawn, where the Lab and Ripley were playing a somewhat subdued game of doggy tag. “And she seems to be doing okay.”
“She’s better, but still a little unsure. See how she’s hesitating before she follows Ripley? But you’re right. Rip’s doing what we can’t do. He’s reassuring her in ways we can’t.”
“He’s a good dog,” Seth said softly.
“I will never be able to thank you enough for taking him,” she told him. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done with the dogs if you hadn’t taken him and bullied Ben into taking the female.” She smiled. “He finally named her, by the way. Lulu.”
“After the Hoffmans’ Lulu, I’ll bet. Ben’s neighbors when we were growing up.” Seth grinned. “Now, there was a dog. Lulu was a Chihuahua and Jack Russell mix. Nasty little pup. The feistiest thing on four legs.”
“I had the impression from Ben that she was a sweet dog.”
Seth scoffed. “She had a mean streak, and you never knew when she was going to turn on you.”
The thought crossed Des’s mind that perhaps Ben’s early dealings with his neighbor’s dog had prepared him to deal with Allie, but before she shared that with Seth, he took her arm.
“Let’s see how the new girl does inside,” Seth said as he turned them both toward the farmhouse. “We’ll see if she’s housebroken.”
“You’re willing to take the chance she isn’t?”
“Sure. Only one way to know for certain. And if you’re going to try to find a home for her, that’s one of the things you should know, right?”
“True. Still . . .”
“I’m not worried. Let’s see how it goes.” Seth whistled for Ripley, who stopped in the midst of play, then ran to his owner. After hesitating for almost a minute, the Lab followed.
“Good girl.” Seth opened the front door and watched the dog cross the threshold with Ripley.
Once in the house, the Lab stayed at Des’s side.
“Looks like you have a friend,” Seth said.
Des had followed Seth into the living room, where he gestured for her to choose a seat. The room was a cheerful blend of the 1970s and the present. The furniture was a mixed bag of formal marble-topped side tables and a mishmash of lamps, and upholstered pieces that had hung around for a decade or two too long. A large gray-stone fireplace took up one entire corner, and over it hung a photo of what appeared to be the farm in better days, the house and the barn painted and tidy, the porch level, flower beds blooming, the fields high with corn, and the apple trees heavy with fruit.
The windows were open on two sides and a cool breeze eased in. Des sat on the green-and-white-plaid sofa, the Lab at her feet. Seth took one of the club chairs and turned it so it faced her.
“So now tell me,” he said. “How are you going to find a home for our new friend?”
“I can contact the local newspaper and see if they’d like to do a feature. You know, ‘Pretty Lab retriever needs a good home, maybe yours.’ It could help. I could also talk to Doc Trainor and see if I could put some flyers up in his office.”
Seth nodded thoughtfully.
“What?” she asked.
“I was just thinking. Let’s say the dog’s owner saw the newspaper article and claimed her. Could you hand her over, suspecting she’d been abused?”
“I don’t know how I could avoid giving her back if someone could prove she was theirs.” Des bit her bottom lip. She didn’t like the odds of that happening. “We could document her condition, the fact that she’s so undernourished, but that could be explained by saying she’d been loose for a while.”
“And the behavior she’s exhibited? How is that explained?”
Des shook her head. “It would be their word against mine.”
“But you are experienced with dog behavior, right?”
“In Montana, but that means nothing out here.” Des sighed. She knew he was playing devil’s advocate, but the points he raised were legitimate.
“The place you have in Montana keeps the dogs you can’t find homes for, right?”
“Right,” she said. “We don’t turn any animals away.”
“At some point, maybe you should set up a shelter like that here in Hidden Falls.”
“It’s not that simple. I can’t establish a shelter here, then abandon it when I move back to Montana.”
“Then you’ve already decided not to stay?” Seth asked.
“I haven’t decided anything. I’m just saying it’s a big decision. I’ve been happy there. I’ve done good work there. I’m not sure I’m ready to walk away for good.”
“Des, sooner or later, the theater is going to be finished. You’re going to need to decide.”
Des frowned. “Commit or let it go, and don’t bother you anymore, is that what you mean?”
“Yes, except for the part about bothering me.” He reached across the space that separated them and took one of her hands. “I’ll never turn you away. But at some point, the dogs might suffer. They’ll need attention beyond feeding and sheltering them. Rip and I do just fine. We might even do fine with her.” Seth nodded in the direction of the Lab. “But I don’t know how fine it would be if there were a dozen or more of them without some sort of advance plan. Right now, it’s not a problem. Hidden Falls has never been overrun with strays. I do have some room here, so if you’d come out to work with them, between the two of us, we could make it happen.”
“You already have so much responsibility here. I’d hate to add to that,” she told him. “This morning you were the first person I thought of. Maybe I shouldn’t have . . .”
“I want you to think of me first. Always, and for anything. I’m just saying, you need a plan. I’d be happy to work with you on one.” He gave her hand a squeeze, then dropped it and stood. “For now, let’s leave this pretty girl here with Rip, and I’ll get you back to town.”
“You’re going to leave them here, unattended, in your house?” Des raised an eyebrow. “That’s a little risky. You don’t know if she’s housebroken, or if she has anxiety issues and will eat your furniture. Seriously, Seth. That’s a possibility.”
Seth appeared to think that over. “I don’t know what else to do with her.”
“What about that pen you have out back? Couldn’t she stay there for a little while?”
“Let’s find out how she feels about confinement.” Seth called his dog, and unbidden, the Lab followed Ripley through the house and out the back door to the pen his friend had built for his litters of hounds.
Seth unlocked the old pen and went inside, both dogs following.
“Ripley looks like he’s going to stick with his new friend,” Des said.
“I’ll get them a bowl of water, and we’ll see how they react once I leave.”
The dogs didn’t seem to mind the enclosure, settling down in the shade even as Seth and Des walked away.
“How long do you think before they start barking or howling?” Des wondered aloud.
“That’s not something Rip would do. He’ll wait for me to come back, and that should keep the Lab calm as well.”
“I hope you’re right.” She glanced over her shoulder as they walked away.
“And even if they bark, who do you think they’ll disturb out here? It’s not as if I have neighbors who’d complain.”
“Good point.”
“Any guess how old she is?”
“Not much more than twelve to eighteen months would be my guess. She looks really young, but the vet could give you a better estimate.”
Seth’s pickup was in the driveway, and Des walked toward it. But after a few steps, she realized he was walking in a different direction. Puzzled, she watched him open the barn door. A moment later, she heard a roar, and a startled Des jumped just as the motorcycle emerged, sputtering and puffing like a feisty black dragon. Seth rode it to the back porch, where he let it idle, and got off.
“I’ll be right back,” he told Des as she walked toward him. “You’re going to need a helmet.”
He took the steps two at time and disappeared inside the house. Des stopped five feet from the shiny black beast, which growled softly even at idle. She’d never been that close to a bike like that before, and it was a formidable sight. She walked around it, eyeing the machine as if she was unsure if it could bite.
“Here. Try this on.” Seth came down the steps wearing a leather jacket and carrying two helmets and a second leather jacket. He handed a helmet to Des and she strapped it on. She was sure she’d have the worst helmet hair in the world, but there were worse things that could happen on a bike.
“And you need the jacket, because if we take a fall—which is unlikely—the road burn would be excruciating.”
“You sound as if you have personal knowledge.”
He nodded. “Something I don’t want to repeat. You’re in luck, though, because Amy left her jacket here over the weekend.”
She slipped on the jacket, which was, like his sister’s shirt, several sizes too large, but she zipped it and pulled the sleeves back far enough to free her hands.
“You ever been on a bike before?” he asked as he adjusted his helmet.
“Nope.”
“Too much of a walk on the wild side for you?” He slid his shades onto his face, effectively covering the twinkle in his eyes.
“Just never had the opportunity.”
“And you’re how old?” There was no covering up the teasing grin.
“Thirty-five.”
Still smiling, Seth got onto the bike. “You’re going to get onto the seat behind me. Don’t worry. You’re not going to fall off, but you might feel a little more secure if you hold on to me.”
She climbed onto the bike, slid her arms around his waist, and settled into the seat. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, but she wasn’t sure if it was due to trying something new she’d never expected to do—never really wanted to do—or her proximity to Seth’s hard-as-a-rock body.
He turned and looked over his shoulder. “Ready?”
Des nodded. As I’ll ever be.
He put the bike in gear, and the low growl became a rumble as he eased the machine onto the driveway. At the end, he paused for the one car on the road that was headed toward town. Des expected Seth to take the left that would have them following the car into Hidden Falls, but he surprised her by turning right.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I thought we’d take the long way home. Hold on.”
The bike took off and gradually built up speed. Des ducked her head behind Seth’s shoulders to keep the wind from her face, but after a few minutes, she looked up to see the countryside flash by. It was like watching a slide show. Seth took the curves and dips in the road like a pro, and before she knew it, she was leaning her face against his shoulder to catch the air.
Up hills and past farms, fields green with emerging corn, ponds surrounded by ducks and geese, and fences where horses hung their heads over the top rails to see what the commotion was before dashing away as the bike passed by. She leaned into Seth’s leather-covered back as they rounded the bends in the road, and she tried really hard—unsuccessfully—to ignore how solid and strong his body felt against hers.
She realized they’d approached Hudson Street from the opposite direction when they passed the house Barney had once identified as the house where her lost love, Gil Wheeler, had lived. Seth slowed the bike, then turned into Barney’s driveway and drove straight up to the carriage house. He cut the engine, then turned around.
“So whatcha think of your first ride on a Harley?” His face was so close to hers she could feel his breath on her cheek. He removed his shades so they were eye to eye.
Des knew if a woman stared too long into those dark pools, she might be lost forever. A smart woman would look away.
It was a long moment before Des heeded her own advice.
“It was fun,” she said truthfully. “I liked it. A little unsure at first, but it was fun.”
She got off the bike and took off the helmet just as Cara and Barney came down the back steps.
“Whoa, check you out,” Cara called to Des. “Black leather, cool helmet. I must say, that biker chick look is very becoming on you.”
Des laughed and took off the jacket, handing it back to Seth, who appeared very amused.
“I’m sure I have massive helmet hair, and I doubt that’s becoming, but thank you. I think.”
“My, I haven’t ridden one of these in years,” Barney said as she joined them in the driveway.
“You used to ride a bike?” Des’s eyes widened.
“Oh yes. Your father went through a stage where he thought he was James Dean. It was very short-lived because Mother was horrified, but for those few months, we did have fun.” Barney patted the handlebars. “Nothing quite as masculine and dangerous as this little number, but enough that it set many a girl’s heart on fire when Fritz drove it around town, I assure you.”
“Just what Dad needed. Something else to attract girls.” Des wondered if J was one of those girls who was lured by the sound of the engine and the little bit of danger it represented.
“I daresay it worked its magic on more than one of the locals.”
“So, Barney. Want to hop on, take a spin around town?” Seth asked.
“Not today. I’m hardly dressed for an outing, but thank you.” Barney gestured toward her low-heeled shoes and pretty shirtwaist dress. “I have a luncheon with friends. But another time, yes, I’d love to.”
“You name the day and time, and I’ll be here.” Seth turned to Des. “I’ll let you know how things work out with the new dog.”
“I really appreciate you taking her in. I honestly don’t know what I’d have done.” She handed him the jacket, which he stored in a covered bag behind the passenger seat, and the helmet, which he fastened over the area where Des had been sitting. “Thank you again.”
“I’d say anytime, but you might take me up on that.” Seth grinned. “Just kidding. It’s always okay. Barney, don’t forget. Anytime goes for you as well. And Cara, you’re welcome, too.”
“I’d go on that thing. Definitely.” Cara nodded.
“ ‘That thing,’ ” he repeated as if wounded.
“Your lovely bike,” Cara corrected herself, unwittingly digging the hole deeper.
“Cara, a Harley is not lovely.” He held a hand over his heart.
“I should shut up.” Cara laughed and turned toward the house. “See you around.”
“Thanks again, Seth,” Des said. “For everything.”
“You’re welcome.” He put his glasses back on, covering the softness in his gaze as he looked at Des. He turned the engine on and put the bike into gear.
“I’ll be in touch,” she told him. “About the dog.”
Seth nodded, and blew a kiss to Barney, causing her to shake her head and laugh out loud as she blew one back.
“My, my,” Barney said as Seth turned onto Hudson Street and disappeared behind the trees. “That did take me back.”
“You never told us Dad had a motorcycle.” Des turned from the street as the sound of the bike faded.
“I’d pretty much forgotten about that time. It was one of those things that just wasn’t done, you know.” She took Des’s arm as they walked toward the house. “Back in my day, guys who rode bikes were considered daring and dangerous, which I suppose was the attraction.” Barney smiled. “Still is, I guess. That aura of danger can be very appealing.”
They reached the bottom of the steps.
“Or it can be frightening, if you’re not up to the challenge it might represent.”
Barney’s words rang in Des’s ears for the rest of the day. The questions that grew from that one simple comment were ones Des wasn’t sure she could answer.
Wasn’t sure she wanted to answer.
Was she hiding behind the wall of friendship, using any excuse she could think of, to avoid a deeper relationship with Seth?
No risk, no reward? Was she honestly okay with that?
Was she more comfortable with a guy like Greg, because he seemed so much safer? Because deep inside, she knew she could never have those deeper feelings for him?
And if the answers were yes, and yes, what did that say about her? Why did the thought of a relationship with Seth, one that went beyond friendship, frighten her?
She knew why. What she didn’t know was what, if anything, she wanted to do about it.
Des wandered into the office the following morning and found Cara at the desk, a sheet of paper in front of her, a pen in her hand, and a dark expression on her face.
“Why so glum?”
“I just got off the phone with James Ebersol at the Balfour Group.” Cara glanced up at Des. “These numbers are horrifying.”
Des walked around the desk and leaned over her sister’s shoulder.
“Two hundred dollars an hour?” She picked up the sheet of paper where Cara had jotted down her notes. “Are you sure you heard him correctly?”
“Nothing wrong with my hearing, Des. These guys are priced way beyond anything we could ever pay. That two hundred starts when they leave the office. They fly from Columbus, Ohio—business class. If they stay over, for whatever reason, we pay to put them up plus their hourly rate.”
“So they’re making two hundred dollars an hour while they’re sleeping? Who gets paid like that?”
“Apparently James Ebersol and crew. They usually travel as a party of two, by the way. Ebersol likes to personally inspect every potential project. And of course, he’s accompanied by one of his artisan craftspeople. For the theater, he said he’d probably bring his ace plasterer.”
“My brain is still stuck on two hundred dollars an hour. Is that hourly for each person?”
“I was in so much shock, I didn’t ask. But it really doesn’t matter, since we can’t afford to pay that for one person. Oh, and the minimum they charge for their report is five thousand dollars. We are so screwed.” Cara turned all the way around in the chair.
“Okay, so we need a plan B.” Des sat on the corner of the desk.
“I’m working on one. Give me a little time to think this through. First I need to call Joe. He knows everyone.”
At two in the afternoon, at Cara’s request, all three Hudson sisters met up with Joe in the theater lobby.
“So tell them what you told me.” Cara nudged Joe. “When I asked you if you had to repair really old plaster, who would you call.”
“Same guy I always call,” Joe replied. “Giovanni Marini.”
Cara gestured impatiently. “Tell them why.”
“To start with, he’s ancient—don’t tell Barney I said that. He’s in his seventies. He’s been doing plaster jobs for more than sixty of those years. He told me once that starting on his eighth birthday, growing up in Italy, he studied with his grandfather, who was a master plasterer.”
“And you think he can fix that?” Allie pointed to the ceiling.
“Yes, I think he could.” Joe turned to Cara. “Didn’t you say the recommendation from this outfit in Ohio was to hire some pretentious plaster person? An ‘artiste’?”
“Yeah. We need a ‘master at the art of plaster.’ So I started thinking, who is this guy, this artiste. And where did he get his experience? I called Ebersol back and asked him, what makes your guy so good, so much better than anyone else? And he said, well, he trained in Italy with a master craftsman.”
Cara looked from Allie to Cara.
“Anyone here think that maybe Mr. Marini’s grandfather/master craftsman might be about as good as the Balfour Group’s master craftsman?”
Joe scoffed. “Hands down, sight unseen, I’d put my money on Marini any day.”
“Definitely worth a shot,” Allie agreed.
“We should at least talk to him,” Des said.
“We’re going to.” Cara took her phone from her pocket and checked the time. “In about two minutes.”
In less than that, Giovanni Marini came into the theater whistling a tune that Des vaguely recognized as an old Frank Sinatra song. He was short, wiry, and dressed in a T-shirt and shorts that showed off his bowed legs. He cheerfully introduced himself, then wasted no time by pointing overhead.
“That’s the patient?”
“That’s the one.” Joe stood next to the man, dwarfing him.
Without missing a beat, Giovanni climbed up the scaffold. He walked the highest plank as if he were walking to his car, nonchalant, taking his time, all the while staring straight overhead. From time to time, he touched the ceiling, running his hand over the damaged area. After twenty minutes or so, he made his way back down as casually as he’d gone up.
“Looks like the work of Jack O’Brien,” he told Joe. “Jack and his brother were doing a lot of plasterwork when I first came here.”
“How can you tell?” Des asked.
“A master plasterer’s hand is like a signature. He uses a certain amount of pressure, mixes his plaster in his own way. I’ve repaired a lot of O’Brien’s work over the years. I’m familiar with his mix.”
Cara asked, “If we asked you to do the repairs up there, what would you do?”
“Assuming you want me to match the original, I’d take a chunk of plaster out, see what mix he used. Jack had three mixes he liked. One for walls, which he wouldn’t have used here. The other two”—he shrugged—“could be either.”
“How could you tell them apart?” Cara followed his gaze as he looked upward.
“Some have more plaster, some more or less water, depending on what he was looking for. Sometimes more gypsum, sometimes a little more lime, sometimes vice versa.”
“What’s the difference?” Des asked.
“A higher concentration of lime would take longer to set up. Gives you a different finish.”
“Why one over the other?” Des persisted.
Giovanni shrugged. “Personal choice is the best answer I can give you. You get to know what a job calls for after you’ve done it long enough.”
“So how would you go about repairing that mess up there?” Cara asked.
“Well, first you have to scrape off whatever is loose, then you decide what mix you want. You apply it, you smooth it off. You can use your hands or a trowel, whichever gets you what you want, however many layers you think you need.”
“Now the big question, Mr. Marini. What would you charge to work on that ceiling?” Des’d almost been afraid to ask, but surely he couldn’t be as much as Ebersol’s plasterer.
Giovanni stared at the ceiling for a few moments. “Well, you know, it’s domed there in the middle where some of the damage is. I’m going to need to bring in a carpenter to work on the other side of the ceiling, replace the lathe if it’s wet.” He turned to Joe. “You could probably do that for me, right, son? Check out the lathe?”
“The roofers already looked at it. It’s dry up there now. The roof only leaked that one time, and we got right on it.”
“Good, good.” Giovanni nodded. “You won’t be insulted if I check that myself, though.”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” Joe smiled.
“So say we just have that one domed section, and that flat part over there on the right . . . maybe eighty-five an hour. That takes into consideration I’ll be matching the plaster mix exactly to the original, of course.”
“Eighty-five dollars an hour,” Des repeated.
“Too much?” Giovanni asked.
“No, no, that would be fine.” Des glanced at Cara and Allie. “What do you think?”
“I think we’ve found our artiste.” Cara patted Giovanni on the back. “When can you start?”
They’d said good-bye to Giovanni, who promised to draw up a contract for the job over the weekend. Cara stayed behind to talk to Joe, and Allie and Des set out for the house.
“That was a brilliant move on Cara’s part,” Des said.
“Let’s hope Giovanni turns out to be just as good as Mr. Plaster Artist from Ohio.” Allie stubbed her toe on a section of raised sidewalk and yelped, stopping briefly to rub the sore spot before catching up with Des.
“I bet he is.” Des felt pretty confident that Giovanni would be every bit that. “He’s going to have to be, because he’s all we can afford. We still need a painter, though.” The plaster may be the cake, but the decorative painting was definitely the icing. “And I have no idea where we’ll find one, if we’re cutting out Ebersol and his people. Dr. Lindquist didn’t have a second choice, did she?”
“No, but I have an idea about that.”
“Which is?”
“I’m working on it, Des. Let’s leave it at that.”
As they approached their front walk, a car drove up and parked in the driveway of the house across the street. A tall man with thick white hair got out and disappeared behind the wall of pine trees that obscured the property.
“Didn’t Barney say the woman who lived there died last year?” Des stopped halfway up the walk and turned around.
“She did.” Allie watched for a moment, but the man didn’t return to the car. “Maybe he’s one of the kids.”
“There’s only one of them around, Barney said. The one son died, the daughter’s in London, and the other son was in the army.”
“That might be him, then.”
“Or it could be someone set to rob the place,” Allie suggested.
“Not in broad daylight.”
“Are you kidding? People get robbed in broad daylight all the time.”
They mentioned to Barney when they went inside that the empty house across the street seemed to have a visitor.
“Oh.” Barney looked up from her book. “It could be Thomas.” She appeared to ponder the possibility before marking her page and closing the book. “Perhaps I should check.”
“We’ll go with you,” Des said.
“No need.” Barney rose from her chair and slipped into the sandals she’d kicked off.
“What if he’s, you know, a burglar?” Allie hung over the back of the love seat. “It might not be safe.”
“I’ll take my trusty guard dog with me.” She snapped her fingers and Buttons hopped off the stool, where she’d been curled up for a nap.
“Does she even weigh twenty pounds?” Allie asked.
“Closer to fifteen, last time she was at the vet.” Barney headed out of the room, the dog at her heels. “I’ll just get her leash and we’ll go over and see what’s what.”
“At least take your cell phone so you can call for help.”
“Of course. I have you both on speed dial.” Barney’s voice trailed down the hall.
“If you’re not back in ten minutes, we’re coming over,” Des called to her.
“If, as I suspect, it’s Thomas, make it twenty,” Barney called back.
“How would we know?” Allie asked as the front door closed.
“We wait fifteen minutes, then we check it out.”
“Agreed.” Allie put her phone on the desk. “I’ll watch the time. Fifteen minutes. Then we wander over just in case she needs backup. In the meantime, we can go through some files and see if we can get a lead on our painter.”
They waited the full fifteen.
“I think we should just go and make sure there’s nothing funny going on over there, Allie.”
“All things considered, I think Barney is capable of taking care of herself. But it has been awhile. It wouldn’t hurt to just ring the doorbell.” Allie closed the file she’d been looking through and stood. “I’m beginning to think we’re never going to figure out who the theater’s artist was.”
“It’s inconceivable there’d be no mention of him—or her—anywhere. We just haven’t looked in the right place. There has to be something.” Des was first to the front door, which she opened, then paused. “Think Cara wants to come along?”
“Her car’s not here, so she’s probably not back from the gift shop. She said something about picking up a birthday card for a friend of hers in Devlin’s Light.” Allie slid her sunglasses onto her face and caught up with Des, who put her hand out to slow Allie as a car passed them, apparently not having noticed the pedestrians. When they reached the arched front door of the house across the street, Allie hit the doorbell without hesitation.
“I don’t hear anything, do you?” Des asked.
Allie cocked her head to the left as if listening. “No, I . . . wait, yes. I hear Buttons barking. If no one opens the door, we’re going to—”
The door opened quietly, and a tall, thin man with a shock of thick white hair stood inside.
“May I help you?” he asked.
“We’re Barney Hudson’s nieces,” Des replied. “We think she stopped over—”
“Yes, she’s here.” He opened the door wider. “Come in, come in. We were just out back.”
He led them through the hall that went from front to back. “She’s right out here. Bonnie,” he called as he opened the back door—arched to match the front—“your nieces are here seeing to your safety.”
“Are we that obvious?” Des felt color rise in her cheeks.
“I’m afraid so.” He offered a hand first to Des, then to Allie. “Tom Brookes.”
Des and Allie introduced themselves.
“Hello, girls.” Barney stood at the end of a stone patio surrounded by a low randomly set stone wall. Twenty feet behind the patio, a carriage house matching the main house was almost completely covered with ivy. “Thank God you’re here. You just saved me from . . . well, whatever heinous thing Thomas was about to do to me.”
“I’m still debating whether to bore you to death with tales from my war experiences, or a slide show from my trip to Iceland last year,” Tom deadpanned.
“You went to Iceland?” Des asked.
He nodded.
“What was it like?”
“Cold. And not quite as icy as it used to be. A lot of it’s melting.” He flashed an easy smile. “Your aunt and I were just catching up on old times. And between times since we last saw each other. Care for a beer?”
Des immediately declined, but Allie appeared to think about it for a moment before saying, “We’re not staying, but thank you.”
“You’re welcome to stay,” Tom assured them.
“I think we’re okay here.” Des leaned over to pet Buttons. Even the dog seemed relaxed in Tom’s presence.
Allie smiled at Tom. “Nice to meet you. Will you be staying in Hidden Falls for a while?”
He nodded. “I should have come back to stay for a while last year after my mother passed away, but I’d already had plans for a couple of trips I’d been looking forward to. Emily, my sister, was going to come over and start to clean out the house, but her daughter was having a rough pregnancy and she was needed there. But I’m here now and hopefully will get the house in order in no time.”
“You’ll be selling it, then?” Des asked.
“I can’t see any reason to hold on to it.” He looked up at the ivy-covered back wall of the house, not near as impressive in size as the Hudson house, but stately in its own way. “Emily’s not coming back to live, with her children and grandkids settled in London.”
“And you’re living where?” Des asked.
“Right now, I’m here.” He smiled. “My wife and I raised our family in Boston. She’s been gone for almost four years now, and our son and his wife wanted to buy our family home. I’d been thinking about selling it, but didn’t have the heart to see it go out of the family. Charlie and Jeannie are happy there, and I’m happy to have passed it on to them. Win-win.”
“So you’re more or less homeless right now.”
He laughed. “I guess you could put it that way.”
“Well, welcome back to your old neighborhood,” Des said. “If we can help you in any way when it comes time to haul things or whatever, just let us know. We’re right across the street.”
“Bonnie was just mentioning that she had a full house these days.” He turned and smiled at her. “I’m glad for you. It’s nice that Fritz’s girls have come to keep you company for a while.”
“Well, the stinker didn’t leave them much of a choice, but that’s another story.” Barney smiled back.
“Knowing Fritz, I can only imagine.” He raised an eyebrow. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
“You’ll have to come over for dinner one night,” Allie said. “The story’s a killer.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
The thought crossed Des’s mind that there was still a bit of the story that Allie hadn’t heard yet. For the first time in years, they were getting along—most of the time—and Des didn’t want to bring up anything that could potentially lead to a disagreement. Since she didn’t know how Allie would react, she thought the letters between Fritz and J were a topic best left for another time.
“I guess we’ll be seeing you around.” Allie turned toward the door. “We’ll see you back at the house, Barney. Don’t forget we have the cocktail party tonight.”
“I’ll be along shortly,” Barney assured her.
“That nickname.” He grimaced. “Definitely something that a younger brother would tag his big sister with. She’s always been Bonnie to me.” He looked over his shoulder at Barney. “I remember even as a boy thinking that a pretty girl deserved a pretty name.”
Des thought his expression was in fact boyish, as if he was remembering that other time.
OMG, was Barney blushing? Des did a double take.
Tom took a few steps forward as if about to show Des and Allie out.
“We’re good,” Des told him. “We can let ourselves out.”
“It’s no bother.” He escorted them to the front door. “I can’t wait to see what you’re doing in the theater. I have fond memories of that place. Bonnie was just starting to tell me what’s going on.”
“You’ll have to stop in and see our progress.” Allie was the first one out the door after Tom opened it.
“I will definitely do that. Nice to meet you both. I’ll see you again, I’m sure.”
Des followed Allie down the path to the driveway. Once on the other side of the pines, Des grabbed her sister’s hand and said, “She was blushing, did you catch that?”
“When he said that about her name? Yeah, it was a cute moment. He’s cute.” Allie wiggled her eyebrows as they crossed the street. “There’s a history there, trust me.”
“Barney was in love with Gil. She said he was the love of her life, the only man she ever loved, yada yada.”
“Yeah, well, I’d bet anything Tom’s feelings for Barney—excuse me, Bonnie—weren’t platonic back in the day.”
“You think he had a thing for her?”
Allie nodded. “Unrequited, maybe, but yeah. I think he had a big-time crush on her. I bet he still does.”
“Could be. Remember, Barney said Tom and Gil were good friends. Maybe Tom didn’t want to upset his friendship with Gil, so he kept quiet and just let Gil have the girl.”
“Especially if he knew how Barney felt about Gil, I could see a guy putting his own feelings aside.”
They reached the front porch, where Allie dropped dramatically into a rocking chair and Des sat on the porch railing.
“It’s sort of romantic, don’t you think?” Allie picked at her nail polish.
“It could be. She can’t—she shouldn’t—spend the rest of her life mourning Gil. Maybe Tom is the ticket to getting her to go forward with her life in a more meaningful way than merely updating the kitchen.”
“That would be a kick, right? Barney in love? Can you imagine?”
“I don’t know if it needs to go that far.”
“Why not? Tom’s a nice-looking man, he seems interesting and smart, and definitely interested in Barney.” Allie smiled. “I do like a good second chance at a love story.”
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself. He’s just here to clean out his family’s house and get it sold.”
“Right. So he says. Plans can change.”