by Loree Lough
“I don’t work well under pressure, either.” And then she launched into a merry rendition of “Good Time.”
She had a really pretty voice—not that he was surprised— and a real knack for putting him in a good mood too. It amazed him that two people could laugh as hard as he and Holly had these past two hours and yet get so much done. Psychologists had been saying for years that positive outcomes could be expected when compatible people worked together, and now Parker had proof of it.
But she’d worked hard today and on the boat yesterday, and it was beginning to show. When Holly tried not to yawn and failed, Parker decided to call it a night. “I’m sure Maude won’t mind if we leave this stuff here,” he said, “since there aren’t any guests scheduled for the next few days.” He stretched and loosed an exaggerated yawn. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. What-say we pick this up tomorrow, after breakfast?”
“After we make a grocery store run, you mean. I poked through the pantry, the fridge, and the cabinets and made a list. I’ll show it to your mom in the morning and see if she has anything to add to it.”
This time when he yawned, it wasn’t fake. “I’ll check on Mau— on Mom one last time when we’re done in here, and then I’m going home to hit the hay.”
Holly tidied their papers and saved their work on the laptop then sent him a tired smile. “I don’t think it’s going to take me a full minute to fall asleep tonight. I’ll just stay good night to Maude, and then I’m hitting the hay too.”
They walked side by side down the hall, stopping in the door-way to exchange an amused glance. There in the parlor, Maude dozed on the couch while Hank snored softly in the recliner. “I almost hate to wake him,” Parker said.
“I know what you mean.”
“But if I don’t, he’ll wake up with a monster crick in his neck.”
“He really does look peaceful sitting there, doesn’t he? Like he belongs right there beside her.”
“Shh,” Parker said. “If she hears that you approve, he’ll be gone like that.” He snapped his fingers, which roused Hank.
“Remind me to ask you about that in the morning,” Holly said as the older man got to his feet and shuffled toward them.
“What’s this I hear—you’ve got yourself a cat?” Hank whispered.
“She just showed up the other night, and it doesn’t look like she has plans to leave anytime soon.”
Hank nodded. “Yeah, Maudie told me you had it checked out at the vet’s. That was good of you, Parker. Had me a dog once. I know what pets cost.”
He waved the compliment away. “Anybody would have done the same thing.”
“If that were true,” Holly pointed out, “the cat wouldn’t have been allowed to roam about and end up on your porch.”
Well, he hadn’t thought of it quite that way, but Parker supposed she had a point.
“How ’bout if I pop over first thing in the morning,” Hank said, “so you can introduce me to her?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Holly stood in the foyer, one hand on the door jamb, as both men descended the porch steps. Looking more like the hostess than a guest at the cottage, she said, “I’ll lock up good and tight and check on Maude before I go upstairs.”
“Thanks,” Parker and Hank said together.
She started to close the interior door then stopped. “You know what she needs?”
“What?” they harmonized.
“A baby monitor.”
The men exchanged a puzzled glance as she explained. “Leave the base near Maude; take the receiver with us. That way, it’d be like someone is always right there beside her.”
“That’s a great idea,” Hank said.
Parker nodded his agreement. “We’ll pick one up when we’re out tomorrow.” He grinned up at her. “Now shut the door, turn off the porch light—and that brain of yours—and go to bed, will ya?”
It wasn’t easy, putting his back to her, but Parker managed it. Mostly because he knew that in less than twelve hours, he’d see her again.
And until then, he’d see her in his dreams, because at least there, he had half a chance at a future with her.
* * * * *
It was barely past six a.m. when Hank arrived with a sack of donuts in one hand and a cardboard carrier with two Styrofoam cups of coffee in the other. He put them both on the redwood picnic table and tilted a terra cotta planter to retrieve the extra key Parker had hidden. “One of these days,” he muttered, grabbing it, “somebody with bad intentions is gonna find this, and then—”
A quiet meow interrupted him, and he looked down at the orange-and-white-striped tabby that wove a figure eight around his ankles. “Ah, you must be the little orphan I’ve heard so much about.” The cat looked up and, blinking big golden-brown eyes, chirruped happily.
He stuck the key into the bolt and said, “I distinctly remember Parker’s mother telling him it was a bad idea to let you roam around outside, with no claws to defend yourself.” The door opened with a quiet click as the cat sauntered inside with a flick of her tail.
“So where’s the captain?” he asked, turning on the light above the stove. “Isn’t like him to sleep in.”
“Didn’t sleep in,” Parker said from the next room. “Got up at five and ran one mile up the beach and another mile back.”
“And now I suppose you’re climbing the rock wall in your living room. You know, to give your arms the same workout your legs just got.”
Laughing, Parker strode nonchalantly into the kitchen, his bare feet slapping across the hard wood. “When you said you wanted to stop by first thing, I didn’t figure you intended to get here before sunup.”
“If you weren’t such a lazy slob,” Hank shot back, “you’d know that the sun is up.” He snickered and pointed at the coffee and donuts. “Brought some sustenance.” Bending, he picked up the feline. “Now, how about an introduction to Miss Kitty, here?”
Parker opened the donut bag and grabbed a chocolate-glazed cruller. Hoisting one of the coffee cups, he said, “Hank, meet Cat. Cat, this is Hank.”
She reached up and rubbed Hank’s cheek with the side of her face, purring all the while. “Oh, she’s a charmer, Parker. If you don’t keep her, I will.”
“You know, that’s not a bad solution to this problem.”
“What problem?”
“Of who’ll take care of her when I go to Afghanistan.”
Hank sat at the kitchen table, and Cat settled on his lap. “You found the boy?”
“Not yet. But it could happen any day. And I’d be gone for a couple of weeks. Cats are resourceful, so my friends who own them tell me, but they can’t take care of themselves for that long.”
Hank scratched between her ears. “She’s litter-trained?”
“Yep,” Parker said around a mouthful of donut.
“Then if nobody claims her, let me know.”
“Why wait? She seems to be in love.” Parker chuckled. “And if you want my honest opinion, so are you.”
“Might be nice having someone to talk to besides myself at night.”
“I said the same thing the night she showed up. You’re welcome to all the stuff I bought her: bowls, food, collar, toys… .”
“I hope I won’t live to regret this, but you’ve got yourself a deal. I only see one problem.”
“Which is?”
“You scribbled your number all over town. How will her owners get in touch with me? If they show up, that is.”
“Don’t worry, Hank. I’ll get word to you.” Parker chuckled. “You FBI agents think everything to death. No wonder you retire early.”
“Hey. Don’t knock the Agency. It was my connections that hooked you up with the bigwigs who are working on getting you and Ben together.”
“And I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.”
“Even if it doesn’t happen?”
* * * * *
Hank’s question hit Parker like a sucker punch to the jaw. He didn
’t want to believe in anything less than a successful outcome. But reality wasn’t always pretty, and he had the scars and the limp to prove it. “Even if it doesn’t happen.”
“So what time are you meeting with Holly?”
Clever, Parker thought. And then he smiled, because it felt good, knowing that someone understood him well enough to recognize the signs of uneasiness when he saw them. “I didn’t give her a time, just said I’d stop by this morning. I promised to take her to the grocery store so she can restock Maude’s kitchen and pantry.”
Hank grinned. “I must be getting old and senile, because I would have sworn that Holly is a Coastal Cottage guest.”
“You are old and senile,” Parker teased, “but that doesn’t make you wrong. It’s just something she wants to do, and if I didn’t drive her, she’d drive herself. And with that breath-mint-sized car of hers, it’d take a dozen trips. I’d never be able to live with myself, knowing how much gasoline she was wasting.”
Hank whistled. “You said a mouthful there!” He popped the lid off his cup. Suddenly the jovial smile was gone, and in its place was a fatherly frown. “Maude told me an interesting tale last night about Holly’s past. Things I think you ought to know, since you’ll be working so closely with her all summer.”
“What kind of things?”
“You can’t let on that you know. Maude’ll skin me alive.”
Unless the man said she was married, Parker could handle it. He held up the Boy Scout salute. “I’m all ears, and my lips are zipped.”
“If you’re ever invited to a costume party, that might make quite a mask. I’d wager you’ll be the only one there with—”
“Hank, neither one of us is getting any younger.”
“Sorry, son,” he said, chuckling. “When you’re right, you’re right.” He started with the sudden and violent death of Holly’s fiancé. “Seems her family rode her pretty hard to stop living in the past. She feels guilty about what happened between her and the last fella she dated.”
“Guilty? But what would Holly have to feel guilty about?”
Hank only shrugged. “I don’t know what they expected. I only know what she told Maudie and what Maudie told me. The guy cheated on Holly, and Maudie is convinced that the poor girl only started seeing other people so her family would quit worrying that she’d mourn her fiancé forever.” Hank’s eyes narrowed. “You want my opinion?”
The man had never been anything but straight with him, even when it wasn’t comfortable, and his advice had been some of the best Parker had ever heard. “Yeah,” he said, “I do.”
Hank leaned forward, which didn’t set well with the cat. She leaped down from his lap and looked up, sleepy eyes seemingly accusing him of disturbing her peaceful nap. She strutted off, tail flicking, and found a nonmoving place to sleep on Parker’s favorite chair. “Sorry, Cat,” Hank said. Chuckling, he added, “Haven’t even taken her home yet and already she’s got me jumping through hoops.”
He met Parker’s gaze. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I think the world of your mother, son, but she can be…” Hank frowned, searching for the right term. “She’s unlike anyone I know. She’d give you her last meal and the shirt off her back. Why, I’d wager the woman would share just about anything she has with anyone who needs it—except her heart.”
Parker nodded. He’d often wondered why Hank stuck by her, knowing she’d never love him as much as he loved her.
“I know what you think,” Hank continued, “that I shouldn’t put up with her arm’s-distance treatment, that I should demand that she give as good as she gets. But your dad was the love of her life. If I don’t measure up, well, that’s more my fault than hers, now isn’t it?” He shrugged. “I figure, if I hang in there long enough, she’ll decide that second-best is good enough.”
Sadly, Hank was right, and Parker knew it. Everything from the man’s posture to the pained expression on his face made it clear that he was hurting. “And if she never does?”
“Then I’ll go to my grave a better man for having known her.” Parker could only shake his head. He remembered what Hank had said about Holly—how lucky any man would be to have a woman in his life who didn’t do things halfway. He hadn’t made the connection then, but he made it now. It was Hank’s secret wish for himself and Maude. “I wish I knew what made her tick, Hank, believe me, I do.” His elbows resting on the table, he leaned forward and quoted Hank. “You want my opinion?”
“Sure. Let me have it.”
“If she ever loved my father—and nothing she’s said or done backs that up—it turned to hate over the years. My best guess is that time took the hard edge off the hate and turned it to…I don’t know…disgust?” He sighed, tipped his coffee cup, and saw his rippled reflection on the surface of the dark liquid. “No point in beating yourself up, Hank. She is what she is. Nobody would blame you if you…y’know…”
“I appreciate that, son, but I’m not going anywhere.” He winked. And smiled. “Who knows? God might decide to answer my prayers and wake that woman up once and for all.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t I feel like the fool of the century if He did it after I’d stomped off to make some stupid point!”
Parker wanted to admit that his mother didn’t deserve loyalty and affection like that. Instead, he said, “She’s lucky to have you.”
Bobbing his head, Hank glanced at the clock. “Holy moly. Where has the time gone? I have a doctor’s appointment in fifteen minutes.” He got up and tossed their empty coffee cups into the trash. “As the cowboys say, we’re burnin’ daylight. And if I don’t get out of here, you’ll be burnin’ the midnight oil, making up for lost time.”
The cat sat up then arched her back and meowed, as if to say, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Routine physical?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Then he said, “How about if I come back for the cat and her stuff afterward?”
Parker walked him to the door. “You know where everything is.”
“Speaking of that key,” Hank said. “You have to find a new hiding place. That one’s just—”
“A very wise man once told me that if you can think of a place to put a key, a burglar has already thought of it.”
“Touché. I guess. But it wouldn’t hurt to move it around once in a while. You know, confuse the would-be robbers. Why make it easy for ’em?”
“You’re the only one who has ever used that key. Where do you suggest I hide it?”
Hank frowned. “Let me think on it and get back to you.” He gave the cat a quick pat on the head then huffed down the back porch steps. “Have fun shopping,” he said, laughing.
Fun, Parker thought, closing the door. Yeah, right. Knowing what he did about Holly’s past, how was he supposed to make that happen?
* * * * *
He’d never been to the grocery store with anyone but Maude, and that had been so long ago, Parker could barely remember it. He pushed the cart as Holly dropped things into the basket, chattering the entire way.
At first, thinking she’d been talking to him, he’d said, “Sorry, didn’t hear you” and “Really?” But he knocked that off pretty quick when she met every question with a confused and wide-eyed, “What?”
Strangely, he enjoyed trailing behind her, watching her frown as she inspected the fruit and squint as she did the mental math to determine which products were the better deals, listening as she grumbled to herself about things like price gouging and captive audiences. Near as he could figure, she’d aimed that particular barb at the store’s manager, who knew that the tourists didn’t have much choice but to fork over whatever amount was stamped on every can of peas and box of noodles. Parker didn’t have to ask who “he” was when, in the dairy aisle, she’d muttered, “How can the man sleep at night?” And the same was true in the frozen-foods department, where she’d thrown up her hands and said, “Doesn’t he have a conscience?”
She’d worn a sleeveless white blouse into the store, and Parker fo
und himself thanking that conscience-less store manager for setting the AC so high that Holly had to untie the University of Maryland sweatshirt she’d wrapped around her waist. There was a lot to like about Holly Leonard, not the least of which was the way she filled out a pair of khaki shorts. Her little white sneakers squeaked now and then as she made quick starts and stops on the polished linoleum, and once, she’d stooped to retie the laces. “I’ll never understand why they stopped making them out of cotton,” she said, tugging at the tidy bow. “These acrylic things are just downright annoying.”
Acrylic. The word annoyed him for an entirely different reason, because it reminded him that he hadn’t had time to uncap a single tube of paint in weeks. Maybe this fall, when the fishing excursions ended, he’d attempt to capture Holly’s glittering eyes and happy smile. He hoped so, anyway, because then, at least, he’d have the painting to remember her by when she went back to her busy life in Baltimore.
“What’s your favorite ice cream?”
The question caught him by surprise, mostly because she was looking right at him when she asked it. “Who, me?”
Holly laughed. “Yes, you. Who else?”
He shrugged. “Oh, I dunno…maybe the invisible shopper you’ve been talking a blue streak to since we walked into the store?”
“You’re cute when you grin like that,” she said. “And who knew you had dimples?”
She put a fingertip into one, and it took all his concentration to keep from grabbing her wrist and pulling her into a hug.
“You really ought to smile more. Lots more.” She went back to shopping. “Very flattering. Erases ten years from your face too.”
Parker harrumphed quietly, but he didn’t fail to notice that he was smiling when he did so. “Fudge ripple,” he said.
Holly turned around so fast that she nearly spun clean off her feet. “Huh?”
He caught her before she careened into the shelf behind her. “Got a thing for Paul Newman?”
Did she have any idea how much it made him want to kiss her when she wrinkled her nose that way? Parker inhaled a calming breath. “You were about to get real cozy with him just now.” He nodded at the neat row of salad-dressing bottles.