by Beverly Long
But now, in his own home, in his bed that he’d not shared with anyone for quite some time, it seemed as if all he could do was think about Daisy and how she’d felt in his arms. Soft, feminine. Delicious.
He looked down. Well, now. No way for his boxers to hide that.
He was a damn fourteen-year-old.
Ridiculous. He closed his eyes and did a mental inventory of the medical supplies currently in storage at the fire station. He finished that and did it again, just for good measure. Looked down. Let out a breath.
All quiet on the southern front.
* * *
Daisy pulled into her garage, shut the door and sat for a minute in her car. It had been a busy day. A productive one. She’d made a ton of progress on various Remember This social media posts. She’d been right about the emotional impact of the photo of Blade carrying out the first victim. It had gotten a lot of attention. But then again, so had the photo of the chili on the stove. People were interested in the firefighters’ world.
In return, there had already been five photos posted by others. All had featured previous Spring Spectacular settings, and people had done a good job of sharing a short story about the photos. One of the more mundane things she’d quickly realized was that she was going to need a new dress. People had been really dressed up.
She heard voices when she opened the door to the house. Thought, at first, it was the television. But when she walked into the living room, she saw that it was Sophie, on the couch, and another teenage girl, on the floor nearby.
“Hi,” Daisy said. She smiled at her daughter. Then turned to the other girl. “I’m Daisy Rambler, Sophie’s mom.”
“Hi. I’m Raven. Raven Savick.”
Blade’s daughter. In her house. Wow. She was a pretty girl with brown silky hair that hung down to the middle of her back. She was tall. Got that from her dad. “Nice to meet you. Are you two studying together?”
“Running lines,” Raven said. “We’re both trying out for the school play.” The girl stood up and stretched. “My dad is on his way to pick me up.”
Blade was coming to her house. Daisy resisted the urge to find a mirror. “This is a rather odd coincidence, but I actually know your dad. We’re cochairs of the Spring Spectacular.”
“They made chili together,” Sophie said dismissively.
Daisy said nothing. Adding And I almost saw him die yesterday probably wasn’t appropriate.
“He doesn’t like to cook,” Raven said, not meanly, just matter-of-fact. “He’s also...well...he’s not the best dancer I’ve ever seen. Isn’t there dancing at the Spring Spectacular?”
“There is, but he’ll be busy running around, keeping things organized. Probably won’t even have a chance to dance.”
“Better for everyone,” Raven said. She looked at Sophie. “I’m glad we could do this. I feel a lot better about the auditions.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Sophie said. “Maybe we could do—”
The doorbell rang, interrupting her.
“—it again,” she finished as she headed for the door.
“Check first,” Daisy called out.
“I know,” Sophie said.
She did, no doubt, thought Daisy. She’d drummed it in her child’s head to always check before opening a door. And in the more recent months, she’d known to keep the door closed and immediately get her mother if it was Jacob or one of his friends.
It was Blade, and he was holding a big gift basket. “Hi, Sophie,” he said. He did not remind her where they’d met.
“Hello,” Sophie said. She was looking at the basket.
He held it out. “This was on your front step.”
Daisy moved fast. “Hi. Hey, let me take that,” she said. She’d pulled into the garage and come in through the utility room. She hadn’t even looked at the front door.
She set the basket on the hallway table. It was lovely. Beautifully wrapped in lavender-colored cellophane and coordinating ribbon, it was filled with a huge box of chocolates, multiple boxes of gourmet teas and coffees, shortbread cookies, cashews and more.
“Who’s it from?” Sophie asked.
“I don’t see a card,” Daisy said, trying not to get alarmed. Maybe Jane had sent it. Or someone from Pratt Sports Spot. That was it. Maybe Hosea’s assistant, Sandra Brogen, as a welcome gift.
“Let’s open it,” Sophie said.
“Um...” Daisy said. She again checked to make sure there was no card on the outside of the packaging, then opened the ribbon and peeled away the cellophane. Then she shifted items in the basket to make sure a card hadn’t fallen in somewhere. “Let me just take a quick look outside,” she said.
She opened the door, searched the front porch and step, but there was nothing. When she walked back inside, it was easy to see that Blade was puzzled by her behavior.
“It looks like something that might have come from Tiddle’s Tidbits and Treasures,” Blade said.
Daisy looked at him blankly.
“It’s a gift shop, right on Main Street. They’ve got a lot of nice stuff. Really good chocolate,” he added, looking at the box. “Morgan Tiddle owns the place, and if it came from there, she might be able to tell you who sent it.”
“Good to know,” Daisy said, working hard to be very casual. Maybe he thought it was odd that she wasn’t opening the chocolate and offering them some. Nobody was eating anything in the basket until she knew more about it. But she couldn’t tell him that because he’d either think she was crazy or he’d have questions that there was no way she intended to answer. “Did you know these two are both trying out for the play?” she asked, switching the subject.
“Raven had mentioned trying out last night. I didn’t know the two of you had met,” he added, looking at the girls.
“We have English and Algebra II together,” Raven said.
Blade turned to Daisy. “On my way over here, I checked on ticket sales to the dance. More tickets were sold today than in the previous two weeks. That has to be a result of the social media you’re doing.”
“Good news,” she said. She would think about that, not about a stupid basket that had the ability to make her feel as if there was something heavy sitting on her chest.
“Super news,” he agreed. “We should get going, Raven.”
The girl swung the strap of her backpack onto her shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Sophie.”
Then they were gone. Sophie walked over and looked at the basket closer. “You’re freaked out about this, aren’t you?” she asked. “You think it’s from Jacob.”
Daisy had not told her everything about Jacob, but she’d told her enough that the girl knew that Jacob Posse was not to be trusted. “I’m not freaked out. It’s just an unexpected gift, that’s all. And it’s definitely not from Jacob. He doesn’t know where we are.” She turned her back to the basket. “Come on. I’m starving.”
“What’s for dinner?” Sophie asked.
She’d planned to make pasta and shrimp, but suddenly that seemed too big of a task. “Pizza. Jane told me about a good place. Get your coat. We’re going now.”
* * *
“That was weird,” Raven said, once they were in the car. “Sophie’s mom was acting all normal until you brought that basket inside.”
“Yeah,” he said. “What did you think of her?” he asked.
“Sophie or her mom?”
“Both of them,” he said.
“Sophie seems kind of cool. And I think she’ll definitely get a part in the play.” She paused. “She told me about last Saturday, about trying to drive back to Denver. I was a little surprised to hear that you were involved in the apprehension. Her words, not mine,” she added. “You didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think it was my story to tell. She didn’t use the best judgment. A sixteen-year-old new driver has no business
taking off in the middle of the night and attempting a long drive. She could have injured herself or others. She certainly caused her mom a lot of worry.” He drove for another minute. “Apprehension, huh?”
“I think she was relieved that somebody stopped her. But you know, it’s hard to admit something like that, especially to an adult.”
He turned his head. “You are so smart sometimes.” Truly, he was impressed at her emotional maturity.
“I know,” she said smugly.
“And Daisy?” he prompted. “What’s your impression of her?”
“I already said. She was fine, but then she acted like that box of chocolates was a bomb or something. Maybe you should tell her that there are no terrorists in Knoware. Only boring people.”
He smiled. “I’m not boring. You’re not boring. I have disproven your hypotheses.”
She leaned her head back. “What’s for dinner?”
“Lasagna. Your grandmother made it.”
“Oh, thank God.”
They drove in silence. When he was making the final turn, Sophie looked at him. “What do you think of Daisy Rambler?”
Chapter 10
“I think she’s...nice. Very nice,” he added quickly. “Has been very helpful with the Spring Spectacular.”
She stared at him, but didn’t say anything for a long minute.
“What?” he finally asked.
“I think you should take dance lessons.”
He scratched his head at the change of topic. “I have a full-time job and I’m a dad. Why would I want to spend the few hours of downtime that I have taking dance lessons?”
“Because maybe you’ll want to dance at the Spring Spectacular. You don’t want to embarrass yourself.”
“It’s that bad?”
She shrugged. “What was it you used to tell me in fifth grade when I played basketball but couldn’t even hit the rim with my free-throw shot? You used to say that perhaps I should shoot a few hoops on the weekends to polish my game. I think your dancing game could use some shine.”
“Smart and funny. As a parent, I hit the jackpot, you know that,” he said, pulling into the carport where he and his tenant, who rented the other side of the duplex, parked their vehicles.
“Wasn’t trying to be funny, Dad.”
They got out of his SUV. He rounded the back end and ruffled up the top of her hair. “I’m hungry. Hurry up!”
* * *
The next morning, Daisy made a point to swing by Hosea’s office. Sandra was at her desk, hands busy on her keyboard. “Good morning,” Daisy said.
The woman’s hands stilled and she looked up, but she did not turn away from her computer. The message was clear. I’m busy. Make it quick.
“I...uh... I got home last night and there was a lovely gift basket on my front steps,” Daisy said.
“Well, that sounds like a nice surprise,” Sandra said. Her fingers lowered, back onto the keyboard.
Daisy didn’t think this was looking good. But she’d come this far. “Unfortunately, there was no card. And I thought...well, I thought perhaps it came from here.”
Sandra shook her head. “Not from this office. Perhaps from the staff in your department.”
There was no way she was asking them. That would be even more awkward. It would probably take about three minutes for it to circulate around the entire company that the new marketing and public relations director was hinting to her staff that she’d enjoy and appreciate a gift from them.
“Sorry to have bothered you,” Daisy said.
Sandra didn’t answer, but she did start typing.
Daisy managed to keep herself busy until it was a reasonable time for an early lunch. She left the building and drove the two miles to downtown Knoware. And she found the Tiddle’s Tidbits and Treasures without any trouble. It was in the middle of the block, between Gertie’s Café and a bar called Feisty Pete’s advertising beer for three dollars Monday through Friday.
It had two big bay windows, both beautifully decorated. One would have to be mostly blind not to realize that Morgan Tiddle had a love for the Irish. There was lots of green and white, and even though it was a miserable, cloudy and rainy day with temps in the low forties, it made Daisy realize that spring really was around the corner.
A bell tinkled when she opened the door. There was a pretty woman, maybe midthirties, behind the counter. She was tall and slim with the exception of a small pregnant belly. “Good morning,” she said.
“Morning,” Daisy said. “What a beautiful store.” It really was. Besides the stunning selection of sweaters and blankets, there were framed photographs of the Washington shore for sale along one wall, glass cases of jewelry in the middle of the store, some blown glass on shelves, and a lovely selection of candy and teas near the cash register.”
“Thank you. It’s a labor of love. Mostly.” The woman smiled. “Of course, in season, when every day is long, it’s really just labor.” She looked down at her stomach. “Soon, I’ll be able to speak with some authority on labor.”
“When is your baby due?”
“Late summer. It’s lousy timing because it will still be our busy season when the baby is born. But I’ve been told that it’s just the first of many times that my child will interrupt my finely tuned plans and that I should just start getting used to it.”
“Sounds like good advice.”
“Do you have children?”
“A daughter. She’s in high school.”
“Oh, my gosh. You look way too young for that,” the woman said.
“I started pretty early,” Daisy said, leaving it at that.
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Morgan Tiddle.”
“Daisy Rambler.”
“Would you like a cup of tea Daisy while you browse?”
“Um...not today. But I will come back and take you up on the offer,” Daisy said. “Right now, I just have a question. I received a gift basket yesterday, and it was suggested to me that by the looks of the basket, it might have come from this store. There was no card. And I just feel terrible that I’m not able to thank the person who sent it.”
“Was it chocolates and teas and nuts?”
“Yes.”
“That was the only basket we did yesterday. I hope you liked it.”
“I did. Do you recall who ordered it?” Now that she was close, her palms were sweating. It seemed so gauche in such a pretty place.
“It wasn’t ordered in advance. Not that that is much of a problem, right now. We have time to create the baskets on the spot.”
Daisy took some comfort in knowing that her panic was apparently not obvious because the woman’s tone was still friendly, helpful. Cheery.
“Maybe if you could describe the person,” Daisy suggested.
“It was a man. Late thirties or early forties, although sometimes it’s really tough to tell.”
“Hmm. Color of hair?” Daisy asked.
“Brown. Perhaps losing a bit in the front,” she added, with a smile.
The age was right. The hair was right. “Tall?” Daisy asked.
“I guess. The thing I really did notice is that he had a beautiful gray overcoat. I thought it might be cashmere.”
She’d never seen Jacob wear a cashmere coat. But he had worn a couple cashmere sweaters so it wasn’t a stretch. “You might think this is really odd, but did he happen to pay with a credit card?”
“Well, I don’t remember. Let me look at my computer. My sales are date and time stamped, and I remember it was right after I opened at ten o’clock yesterday that he came in.”
“That would be so helpful.” She waited while the woman clicked keys on the keyboard. When she finally looked up, Daisy’s heart was beating fast.
“It was a cash sale,” the woman said. “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful. I g
uess you’ll just have to enjoy having a secret admirer. He seemed very nice.”
There had been a time when she’d thought Jacob had been nice. Sane. “Thank you for looking,” Daisy said. “I’ll... I’ll be back when I have more time to shop.”
She got out of the store fast and then almost stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk because she turned her head so fast, trying to scan both directions. She ran to her car, got in, dropped her keys, snatched them up, and finally got the damn car started and in gear.
She was three blocks down the road before she took a breath. And then it was big gulps, trying to flood her brain with oxygen.
She definitely should not jump to conclusions.
She should not hide her head in the sand, either. She was a little less emphatic about this one because, quite frankly, it sounded kind of good to her right now. She could forget about the basket, forget about this conversation with Morgan Tiddle, and pretend that her lunchtime errand had been all about getting a sub sandwich.
But while that was intoxicatingly simple, it could also prove very dangerous.
Could she go to local law enforcement? Could she trust them? Would they believe her? Even if they did, what could they really do?
After the one time, Jacob had never physically harmed her. Had been careful that his threats, or promises as he called them, were never overheard by others. The Denver police hadn’t been able to help her.
She was going to have to look out for herself and for Sophie. Just like always. And one of the ways she did that was by keeping a good job, making sure she earned enough money so that there was something in the bank should the need to move on quickly become real.
She skipped lunch and went back to work. She was surprised to see fourteen Remember This emails. More early adoptors—that was what they called it in the public relations world. The first folks to jump on board. They were key to getting a new program or campaign off the ground.
Some of the early adaptors had just a single photo attached and a short story; some had written paragraphs and attached multiple photos. She started reading.