by Dana Marton
She stopped by the post office on her way home, and then dropped off some dry cleaning, so darkness fell by the time she reached her house.
“Hi, Mr. Mauro. How are you today?”
He was making his rounds. He liked to walk around the block several times a day. He was just this side of eighty, with a slight Italian accent—a real character, according to Betty. Betty had spent enough time sitting on his front porch, and he’d spent enough time sitting on hers, so that Kate suspected there had been a “golden years” romance going on between the two, which she thought was inspiring and sweet.
Anthony Mauro looked toward Betty’s house, then sighed as if his heart was breaking.
“I know.” Kate felt the same. “Can’t believe she’s gone.”
He waved away the words with one hand while he gripped his cane with the other. “She didn’t want to be cremated. You make sure you remind Linda if you see her.”
“I’m sure she didn’t forget, but I’ll remind her.”
He harrumphed. “You get to be my age and funeral homes send you a dozen flyers a day. Always trying to talk you into some newfangled bullshit. Like making diamonds out of your ashes. Or shooting your urn up into space. Like anyone would want to end up in a pawnshop or forever float in a cold and dark nothing.”
Kate didn’t know how to respond, so she just nodded.
“And all of it is so expensive, you’d have to win the lottery on your deathbed.” He grunted with anger. “You know what the latest thing is?”
She waited for him to tell her.
“They cremate you, mix your ashes with dirt in a cardboard box, bury it, and plant a tree seedling in there. For ten thousand dollars!”
Kate made low-key outraged noises. She wasn’t really in the mood for funeral talk. She smiled at Mr. Mauro, hoping this was the end of it.
It wasn’t.
He frowned even deeper. Tapped his cane. Bristled. “I told Betty the other day, if I die, just bury me upside down and stick a peach pit up my ass.”
Chapter Seven
Kate
“I got a job!” Emma, dancing in place by the oven with both hands covered in mitts, announced in lieu of a greeting as Kate walked into the house.
“What?” Kate was still distracted—and more than a little stunned—by Mr. Mauro’s declaration outside. And now the delicious scent of dinner, something with tomatoes and oregano, distracted her even more.
Emma pulled out her earbuds and set them on the counter, but kept the victory dance going. “I was checking out the shops on Main Street today after I had lunch at the diner. I walked by the florist and saw a Help Wanted sign in the window. The lady who runs the shop, Alice, interviewed me on the spot.”
Kate dropped her bag in the foyer, tired to the bone, feeling guilty that she was coming home after dark. She had promised herself she wouldn’t work late while her sister was visiting. “Oh. Okay.”
Hurt flashed in Emma’s eyes. She stopped dancing. “I wasn’t planning on living with you. I will get my own apartment.”
Ah, dammit.
“Sorry.” Kate hurried forward. “I’m just preoccupied. If you stay, you’re definitely welcome to live here.” She took her sister’s mittened hands. “I just meant… Flower arranging doesn’t have a lot in common with banking.”
“I need a creative break. It’s temporary.” Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m not setting my finance degree on fire or anything.”
Okay. “Okay.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind if I stay here for a while?”
“We’re family.” Kate squeezed, then let her sister go. “Of course, I’m sure. Did you tell Mom and Dad? They’ll be upset that you’re not going back. Mom is experiencing…um…heightened emotions these days.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Emma had a giant duh stamp over her face. “Why do you think I needed to get out of the house and come up here for an impromptu visit?” She smiled sweetly. “A little distance will be good for them. Dad always wanted to buy into a small vineyard when he retired. But they’re not going to sell the house in LA as long as I’m there.”
Emma left the rest unsaid, but Kate read between the lines. Their parents had been clinging harder to Emma because they’d lost Kate, or thought they had when she had faked her death.
“Anyway.” Her sister smirked. “I don’t want to come between you and Murph. Like, I don’t want to be in the way if he shows up for a booty call.”
“No worries.” Kate’s entire mental library of naked Murph was under Fort Knox-level lockup. Not opening that. Not going there. “When I said we’re taking a break, I meant booty calls included.”
“You know he’s the hottest guy in town, right?”
“Hot isn’t everything.” Kate stepped to the sink and washed her hands so she could set the table. “We have issues.”
“Not insurmountable ones. Biggest problem is that you moved out on him. You got a new home that doesn’t include him at all. How do you think that makes him feel?”
Kate turned off the tap. “Last Christmas, when we drove around to see the lights, he told me he liked this neighborhood. His best friend in elementary school used to live around here. Murph said these ranchers were a great buy. Not a ton of square footage, but you could put an addition on the back and end up with that and a private courtyard. He said the ceiling in the living room and kitchen could be raised to the rafters. Put in a few skylights. Lots of height and light and open space.”
Emma stared at her. “Does he know you thought about him when you bought this place?” But even as the last word was out, she zeroed in on Kate’s wrist. She grabbed Kate’s elbow. “What the hell happened?”
“Small accident with a patient.” Might as well get it over with. Kate pulled away and unwrapped her neck.
“Like what?” In a split second, Emma was ready to charge off to battle, eyes flashing, mittened hands on her hips. They had their disagreements, but in times of trouble, they would back each other up to the end. “An accidental hanging?”
“He’s troubled.”
“Did Murph knock him out?”
“That’s not what we do. We help people.”
“You’re crazy. You know that, right?”
“That’s what the patient said.”
Emma pulled off her oven mitts and leaned in for a closer look. When she stepped back, concern filled her eyes. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Cover up my bruises with makeup tomorrow before work? I think I have an old bottle of concealer somewhere. Or I could just wear a turtleneck,” Kate said on second thought.
“Oh.” Emma snapped her fingers. “I forgot to tell you. While you were at work, the eighties called. They want their turtlenecks back.”
“Smart-ass.”
“Sisters don’t let sisters walk out of the house dressed like fashion disasters.”
“And that’s just one of the many reasons why I love having you here.”
“Once people get to know me, they often find that they can’t live without me,” Emma deadpanned before asking, “Any news on your neighbor?”
The second Kate thought of poor Betty, her newfound lightness evaporated. “Funeral’s on Friday.”
“I’ll go with you.” Emma glanced out the window at Betty’s house, which sat dark and silent, a cold husk with life departed. “Do you think her kids will rent out her house? We could be neighbors.” Then she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, that sounded really crass. It’s not how I meant it. I…”
“No kids. I think she left the house to her church. She mentioned it the other day when she was talking about her will.”
“Wait. A hot priest could move in?”
“I doubt it. Also, I think her church has a pastor. Who is married.”
“Oh.”
So much disappointment imbued in a single word.
Then Emma flinched. “Sorry. That was also inappropriate. I didn’t know her. But I know you liked her. I know none of
this is funny.”
Kate offered a sad smile. “Betty would have been the first to make jokes about hot priests.” She moved closer to the oven and looked through the glass. “What are we having? And thank you for cooking, by the way. I feel very spoiled.”
“You’re welcome. Gluten-free pizza. I stopped by the Pizza Palace and bought the dough they sell. Is that okay?”
“Better than okay. I skipped lunch. My stomach is still giving me trouble.”
As the oven dinged on the last word, Emma mittened up again to pull the pizza out.
Kate took care of plates and glasses, and then she put the leftovers of the giant salad they’d had the day before, in the middle of the table.
The scent of tomatoes and cheese saturated the air. Her sister was there. Her new house was becoming a home. For the first time that day, Kate relaxed.
Then Emma passed by the window with their dinner, on her way to the table, and she froze midstep, staring outside.
Kate stepped up behind her. “What is it?”
She saw nothing except darkness and that it was beginning to rain. A dozen or so drops glistened on the glass.
Emma set the pizza on the table, then went back to the window to look again. “Do you believe in ghosts? I swear I just saw Betty walk through her kitchen.” She rubbed her arms. “Goose bump city.”
Kate patted her sister’s shoulder. “Overactive imagination. You watched Supernatural too much as a kid. I promise you, there are no ghosts over there.”
Chapter Eight
Murph
Murph didn’t enjoy making his old police captain angry, but it couldn’t be helped. He stopped by the station, a square brick building that brought back a lot of memories, first thing Wednesday morning.
Bing was reading through the mail at the front desk, the rest of the main area empty.
“Where is everyone?” Murph asked as he walked in.
The captain looked up. “Leila had to take her aunt for waxing. Rest of the squad are out setting up the streets for the Mushroom Festival, dropping off cones and cordons. We’re shutting off six streets this year. Vendors need room to set up their tents.”
“Hard to believe it started with a single Sunday.”
“Festival’s growing.” Bing flashed a pleased smile. “Good for local business. Restaurants are packed already. Gift shops all stocked up. No downside to adding an extra day, other than the inevitable half a dozen drunk fights around the beer tents.” He set down the stack of envelopes he’d been holding.
“Wait.” Murph’s brain caught up with him. “Did you say Leila took her aunt for waxing?”
“The aunt is having some feminine surgery tomorrow, and she’s…” Bing had a don’t-make-me-say-it look in his eyes.
Murph didn’t make him say it. “Okay!”
“Okay.” There was an awkward second, then Bing rolled on. “But you didn’t come in to check on Leila’s aunt or the festival.”
“I was wondering if you had any news on Betty Gardner.”
“What kind of news?” Bing asked in a deceptively casual tone.
“She wasn’t taking out the garbage when she slipped.”
The captain nodded. “Gabi said the same thing. Doesn’t mean much. Betty could have gone outside for any number of other things. Fill the bird feeder, check that the outside basement door was locked, fresh air.”
“Nobody saw it happen?”
“Midmorning, most people are at work.” The captain paused for a second before he added, “No reason to suspect foul play. Nothing’s missing from her house that we can tell. All valuables are accounted for, wallet, phone, her jewelry.”
“All locked up tight?”
“Kate made sure.”
She would. She was good at taking care of people.
“The leaves were raked, walkway clear.” Murph’s instincts kept prickling every time he thought of the accident. “What made Betty slip?”
“Old age? What’s this about? Anything to do with Kate?”
“How would Kate come into this?”
“If the neighborhood turned bad, you could offer to be her private security? Or talk her into moving back into your apartment? Hell, if I know, dammit.” Bing pointed at Murph. “But I know a desperate man when I see one. Want to talk about it?”
Murph rolled the man’s words around in his head. Was he looking for an excuse to stay near Kate? “I’d like to think I’m not that pathetic.”
“Whatever this is, it’ll pass.”
Murph swallowed the frustration that was bubbling up in his throat. “I hope it does, before she drives me crazy.”
“You want to marry her, you have to get used to the driving-crazy part. It’s half the job description. The other half…” A wistful, lovesick expression came over his face. “It’s worth it.” He paused, as if unsure whether to say the next bit, but then he did. “Sophie and I had our ups and downs.”
“Yeah. Nobody who’s ever seen the two of you together will believe that.”
Bing almost smiled, then that hint of amusement disappeared and he turned police-captain serious. “You focus on fixing whatever went wrong between you and Kate and leave the investigation to us.”
He didn’t have to show steel for Murph to know that it was there behind the still-congenial demeanor. And yet… Murph promised nothing.
While he drove from the station to work, he considered how much he really needed to be concerned about Kate’s and Emma’s safety. And then thinking about Kate’s sister made him think of his own brother, so Murph called him.
“What’s up?”
“I’m at some training the company’s puttin’ on. It ain’t bad. Maybe I’ll get a raise and buy a house down here. Wouldn’t that just burn Felicia’s ass?”
Felicia had divorced Doug right after Doug had been notified he’d be downsized at work at the end of the previous year. She got the house in the divorce. Then, out of the blue, Doug’s company offered him a similar position at their North Carolina location, and he’d jumped on the opportunity to leave town.
“You seen her around lately?” he asked. “Lookin’ good on my money, I bet.”
“Really let herself go,” Murph improvised. “Total hag.”
Doug laughed. “You’re a good brother, you know that? Listen, I can’t talk right now. Call you back tonight?”
“When you have a minute. Nothing urgent here.” Murph pulled into the parking lot and looked for Kate’s Toyota, tensed when he didn’t see it.
On his way to his office, he swung by hers. Her door stood open. And there she sat, lost in work. Just seeing her had the power of switching Murph’s world from being off to being exactly right.
She’d left her scarf at home, her bruises lighter than they could have healed overnight, probably makeup. She already had her scrubs on, with a long-sleeve shirt under that to cover her wrist.
“Didn’t see your car outside. Wasn’t sure if you were in.”
She looked up. “Parked in the back.”
“Everything okay?”
“Better than.”
Her smile went straight to his heart. Best damn smile in the state of Pennsylvania, perhaps the country. When she smiled, she was all soft. He liked her soft. Soft wasn’t mad at him.
“Emma is staying,” she said. “Alice gave her a job at the flower shop.”
All hope of Kate feeling unbearably lonely and inviting him over for a nightcap flew out the window. Murph tried not to feel so damned forlorn about it.
“That’s an unexpected turn,” he said, then corrected. “That’s good. It’ll be nice for you to have family here. How are you feeling?”
“Betty’s funeral’s on Friday.”
She was neatly redirecting him from the incident the day before.
He decided to let her. “I’ll be there.”
And then they had nothing else to talk about. Or rather, they had a lot to talk about, but she didn’t want to talk about their relationship, and he respected her wishes. He hesit
ated in the doorway, hating to leave. “You need help with anything?”
The morning sun streaming through the window kissed her auburn hair with fire. He wanted to bury his face in all that hair. He wanted to see it cascading forward as she rode him and leaned forward to kiss him. Looking into her blue eyes was like looking up at the cloudless sky on a summer afternoon. He wanted to see those eyes go blind with pleasure as he moved inside her. Wanted to hear her moan as he worshipped her perfect body.
If Murph was biased, he didn’t care. She was beautiful and smart, and he loved her. And she didn’t want him.
Shoot me now, before I write a country song.
“Funeral is taken care of,” she said, then hesitated. “Linda, Betty’s friend, asked me if I could help her clean out the house. I want to get a head start on that. As soon as the will goes through probate, the church will be putting it up for sale.”
“I have a pickup.”
She didn’t respond.
Christ. “You said we would stay friends.”
“I meant it. It’s just…”
“Dammit, Kate.”
Tension filled the room as she pretended to look at her calendar.
He shook his head. And because he didn’t want to dump his frustrations on her, he turned out of the room, but her voice stopped him before he could take a second step.
“I’m just organizing stuff for now. But a pickup and another pair of hands would be nice when I get to the stage of moving things out.”
He looked back over his shoulder. “Okay.”
Her gaze was nothing if not conflicted.
Conflicted was good, right? Murph reasoned as he walked away. Conflicted wasn’t decided. She thought maybe they shouldn’t be with each other, but she wasn’t sure. He just had to find a way to change her mind, make her see how good they were together.
Aaand…there he went sounding like a freaking stalker.
If she decided to quit the relationship for good, he would have to accept the verdict. He would have to respect her choice. Otherwise, he’d be just another asshole ex-boyfriend in a world of asshole ex-boyfriends. And if he knew one thing for sure, he knew this: she deserved better.