by Lisa Jackson
“Which one was that?”
“When Octavia Nesbitt was robbed.”
Katie stopped writing. Her hand froze over the paper. “Wells and Dean were involved in that one?”
“It looks that way. They got away with it and were about to split the loot when Dean was caught for his part in an earlier break-in. He was convicted and, as they say, sent up the river. All that time in prison he kept his mouth shut about the Nesbitt job because it was the biggest one he’d ever pulled off. He had some phony alibi, so the police were thrown off. No one suspected that Isaac Wells might be involved and eventually Dean ended up paroled. The problem was that Isaac had used all the money—either gambled it away, paid off back taxes, used it to keep up that car collection of his, whatever.”
“He told them this.”
“Not everything, of course, but it’s what the police have pieced together. So when Ray was about to be released, Isaac decided to disappear rather than face him. Ray has a track record of being thrown back in jail within months of being paroled, but this time it didn’t happen. Isaac began to get worried that Ray would talk, so he turned himself in yesterday and is cooperating with the authorities.”
Dumbstruck, Katie leaned back in her chair. “So what about Octavia’s jewels?”
“Pawned.”
“And her cat?”
“I don’t think anyone asked him about her cat. He’s probably long gone by now.”
“Wow.” Katie scribbled as fast as she could. “Why was Stephen a suspect?” she asked, remembering that her nephew had been questioned.
“Never a suspect, but he did have a set of keys that belonged to Isaac Wells—keys that Ray Dean hoped would lead him to the loot. The police didn’t know the connection, of course. Not until now.”
“So what happens now?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I think Ray will be sent back to prison and Isaac will get a lesser sentence for turning himself in. I think Octavia’s insurance company will probably sue and Isaac will have to give up whatever he has left to pay off the claim. But I’m not sure. That’s just conjecture.”
Katie chewed on the end of her pencil. “So how did they break into Octavia’s home?”
“Isaac knew someone who had once cleaned Octavia’s house and knew where she kept the extra keys. The old lady was foolish, I think.”
Katie stared out the window toward Luke’s apartment. A squirrel was racing along the gutter, then scrambled into the overhanging bows of a pine tree. Blue was barking, running along the edge of the carriage house, his nose tilted into the air, his eyes trained on his quarry. But Katie didn’t pay any attention to the squirrel’s antics or Blue’s frustrated cries. In her mind’s eye she saw her story forming, but some of the joy she’d expected to feel the satisfaction of getting her big scoop—was missing. “I owe you, Jarrod.”
“Just take care of yourself.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“You know I’ll have to talk to Ray Dean,” she ventured, ready for her brother’s temper to explode.
“Go ahead. As long as he’s behind bars.”
* * *
The next couple of days were busy. Too busy. Somehow Katie avoided Luke, though she suspected he was the one doing the avoiding. By the time she got up each morning and peeked out the window, his pickup was gone; she didn’t hear it return until after midnight. She’d talked to Ralph Sorenson a couple of times and Josh had tentatively gotten on the phone and spoken to his grandfather. Things were still tense, but working out. Eventually they would all meet.
So close and yet so far away, she thought on the second day after Josh had flown out the door, his backpack draped over one shoulder, his hair flopping as he raced up the street to meet the school bus.
She finished cleaning the kitchen, then, against the wishes of everyone in the family, drove to the jail where she planned to interview Ray Dean. She’d already written the story about his arrest and how she was involved. Her editor was impressed, but he wanted more.
Ray, seated on his cot, looked at her through the bars. She sat in a folding chair and listened as he smoked and told his side of the story in painstaking detail. In the end, it seemed, his version only backed up Isaac’s rendition. They were both crooks. But Ray, she assumed, because of his record and the fact that he’d actually done the deed, would draw a much longer sentence.
Nonetheless, she got her story.
So where was that overwhelming sense of satisfaction she’d been certain she would feel? Where was her emotional payoff? Instead of a feeling of elation, she experienced a sense of loss. The mystery was over and, though she would probably get to work on more interesting stories in the months to come, she was still the same woman she’d always been just with a different set of problems.
She drove home and found a bouquet of flowers on the front step. She bit her lip as she carried the roses, chrysanthemums, and baby’s breath inside. Her fingers trembled and she mentally crossed her fingers that the bouquet was from Luke.
The card was simple: “We’re proud of you. Congratulations. Mom and Dad.”
“How nice,” she said, but couldn’t ignore the overwhelming sense of disappointment that dwelled deep in her heart. Though she’d pushed Luke away, now she missed him. “Yeah, well, you’re an idiot,” she said as she mounted the stairs, started removing her earrings and, once in her bedroom, checked the clock. Josh wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours, so she just had time to—
The phone rang shrilly. She snatched up the receiver before it had a chance to ring again. “Hello?”
“Katie Kinkaid?”
The voice was familiar. “Yes?”
“It’s Ralph Sorenson again. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and even though we’ve talked a few times, I didn’t really tell you what I’m thinking. Mainly that I guess I owe you an apology for the first time I called and I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us.”
“There isn’t—”
“Just hear me out,” he insisted, on a roll he didn’t want to stop. “When I first called you I was just so damned anxious to get to know Josh, you know, because of Dave’s death and all. Anyway, I made that deal with Luke, offered him money to find the boy, because I was so damned lonely.”
Her throat ached all over again, as he explained how empty his life was without Dave but that he’d decided that Katie, as Josh’s mother, knew what was best when it came to his grandson. He and his estranged wife only wanted what was best for Josh, and to that end they planned to set up a trust fund for him with the money he’d set aside for Luke.
Katie was thunderstruck. Her fingers clamped over the receiver. “But I thought Luke already got the money.”
“No way.” The old man chuckled sadly. “That boy taught me a little bit about what being a family and putting other people’s needs before your own is all about. It’s funny, really. Luke never really had a family, didn’t know much about his folks, and then his own marriage was a mistake from the get-go, what with his wife running around on him and all.”
Katie felt a tear slide down her cheek. What a fool she’d been.
“Listen, Mr. Sorenson—”
“Call me Ralph. We are like family whether we want to be or not.”
“I want you to come and visit Josh. I’ve talked with him and we need to all get together.”
There was a moment’s hesitation. “You’re certain about this?”
“Positive.”
“Well . . . sure. I’ll let you know. Thank you, Katie.”
“And thank you.” She hung up, wrote Josh a quick note in case he got home before she returned, then flew out to the car. She needed to talk to Luke and tell him how she felt. She had to swallow her pride and, no matter what happened, admit that she loved him.
Once behind the wheel, she took a deep breath, then jabbed her key into the ignition and prayed that she hadn’t let the one man in the world she needed slip through her fingers.
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* * *
Luke, pounding nails that had worked their way out of the stable’s old siding, raised his hammer again and heard the Jeep before it rounded the corner of the lane. He half hoped it would be Katie driving out to see him, but told himself he was being a fool. Whatever they’d shared was over. Somehow he’d have to get used to living in the same town with her and knowing they’d never be together.
“Tough,” he muttered to himself and slammed the hammerhead into the siding so hard as to leave a dent. A whirlpool kicked up dust in the corral, spinning a few dried leaves and blades of grass in a crazy dance. Overhead a hawk circled lazily.
Katie’s Jeep appeared and for a moment Luke thought he was seeing things. What could she possibly want? Probably another story now that the Isaac Wells mystery was cleared up she’d need another topic. Maybe she wanted to do a piece on this place. The concrete foundation had been poured; in less than six months he hoped to be open for operation.
He slid his hammer into a loop on his jeans and walked across the gravel lot to the spot where she’d ground to a stop. She hopped out of the cab and marched up to him.
“Do you have anything to say to me?” she demanded.
“Such as?”
“I just got a call from Ralph Sorenson.”
“And—?”
“He seems to think he’s going to send Josh some money for a trust fund.” She threw up one hand and he couldn’t tell if she was furious or pleased. “I think this has something to do with you.”
“I told Ralph I was out of it.”
“Well, you’re wrong, Gates,” she argued, her eyes crackling like green lightning. “You’re in it big time.”
“How’s that?”
She drew in a long breath and he braced himself. Her cheeks were rosy, the pulse at the base of her throat beating erratically. The fingers of one hand opened and closed as if she was so nervous as to be tongue-tied and the scent of her perfume tickled his nostrils. Damn, but she was beautiful. And she didn’t seem to know it. “Because I want you to be,” she said, her voice a little softer.
“You do?”
“Yes.” She licked her lips and he found the movement ridiculously provocative. “I—I want you in my life, Luke.” She seemed embarrassed, but held his gaze. “I love you.”
He didn’t move, didn’t feel the wind play with the tails of his shirt or ruffle his hair. “What?”
“I said, ‘I love you.’”
He couldn’t believe it and before he could respond, she started to turn. “Wait.”
“Why?” She was halfway to the Jeep, when it finally hit him. He caught up with her before she reached for the door handle.
“Katie—”
She shook her head and disappointment darkened her eyes. “Look, just let me go, okay? I’ve embarrassed myself enough as it is, and—”
“I love you.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Really.”
His fingers tightened over her arms. “I love you, Katie Kinkaid, and I’ve known it for weeks.” All the words that he’d bottled up started tumbling out of his mouth as he tried to convince her of the truth. “It’s just that I felt like such a heel because of the Ralph Sorenson thing.”
“No—”
“Believe me.”
“No, I—”
“Katie, will you marry me?”
The world seemed to stop. The breeze died and the hawk disappeared. It was as if they were entirely alone in the universe with that one simple question hanging precariously between them. “Wh-what?”
“Katie Kinkaid, I want you to be my wife.” He reached for her then, and drew her close. “You’re not going to make me get down on my knees and beg you, are you?”
She laughed. “No . . . but ... it would be a nice vision.” Swallowing hard, she stared up at him and in her eyes he saw his future. “Of course I will,” she said with a grin, “but just tell me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“What took you so long to ask?”
Epilogue
The preacher smiled as he looked at Luke and Katie. “You may kiss the bride,” he said, then turned to J.D. and Tiffany, “And you, too, may kiss the bride.”
The guests filling the hundred-year-old church whispered and chuckled and Katie leaned forward as Luke lifted her veil and kissed her as if she were the only woman on earth.
This double ceremony had been Katie’s idea and now, as she felt her heart flutter and broke off the embrace, she grinned broadly.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the preacher announced, “I give to you Mr. and Mrs. Luke Gates and Mr. and Mrs. J.D. Santini.”
Katie slid a glance in Tiffany’s direction and was rewarded with a smile. This is the way it should always be, she thought, with Bliss as their maid of honor, Christina as their flower girl, and their sons as well as John Cawthorne giving them away.
She’d thought Luke would balk at the idea when she’d first suggested it, but he’d agreed, happy to finally be part of a family. Even Tiffany, at first resistant, had gotten caught up in the extravaganza. As the organist began to play, Katie, holding Luke’s arm, walked down the aisle. Between the sprays of flowers and the candles, she saw the faces of the townspeople she’d known all her life. Her mother was crying, of course, and John Cawthorne was sniffing loudly. Octavia, Tiffany’s grandmother, beamed. She’d been reunited with her cat—the result of a woman who’d bought the Persian years ago—reading Katie’s article on the Nesbitt burglary, which was picked up by a paper in Portland. Brynnie and John were considering moving into the apartment house, while Katie, Luke and Josh would take up residence at Luke’s ranch.
It seemed fitting, somehow, that Josh would live in the very spot where his father had lived.
Outside, the late-October sun was gilding trees already starting to turn with the coming winter. Katie imagined being snowbound with Luke at the ranch, sleeping in the room with the river-rock fireplace, watching as his dream unfolded and the ranch was up and running. She would still write, of course, but she thrilled at the thought of spending her days and nights with the man she loved.
The two brides and grooms formed a reception line and Katie accepted kisses, hugs and handshakes from friends, neighbors and relatives. Ralph and Loretta Sorenson had met Josh and had stayed for the nuptials. Even Rose Nesbitt had stood proudly and watched Tiffany marry, though, Katie decided, it would be a cold day in Hades before Rose would ever say a kind word to John Cawthorne.
But time could take care of a lot of the pain.
“It was a great wedding,” Bliss said as the line dwindled and she stood between her two half-sisters.
“The best,” Dee Dee said.
“Oh, I can think of a better one.” Mason winked at his wife.
J.D. laughed and kissed Tiffany again. Luke’s arm surrounded Katie’s waist. “I wouldn’t trade this one for the world,” he whispered into her ear. “Now, can we go somewhere private.”
“Soon,” Katie whispered back.
“Not good enough, wife.” Not waiting for another second, Luke pulled her behind a thick laurel hedge and, holding her face between his two callused hands, he looked deep into her eyes, then kissed her as if he never intended to stop. Because he didn’t.