Love Me If You Must apam-1

by Nicole Young

  “It seems impossible. But they’re quite good with all that forensic stuff these days. If the coroner said arsenic poisoning, then arsenic it is,” David said.

  “Personally, I think they ought to dig a little deeper. Do you suppose our neighbor is working on the case?”

  David pushed back his chair and crossed his arms. “You mean Officer Walters? You’ve met him, I take it.”

  “Sure I know Brad. He introduced himself my first night in town. Quite an introduction too, with the train blaring past.” I couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

  David scowled. “If Officer Walters is on the case, you can be sure they’ll never solve it. He’s an idiot.”

  My defenses shot up. Brad might be a blight on my life most of the time, and maybe he had blown off the body-in-the-basement and the stick-in-the-window incidents, but he had also shown thoughtfulness and caring in other matters. David stepped over the line by flinging insults at him.

  I cleared my throat. “I think highly of Brad. I hope you can be more generous toward him.”

  David slowly nodded his head. He tipped his chair back on two legs and looked intently at me, eyes glinting. “I’m still getting over the fact that Brad Walters stole my wife. I guess it doesn’t surprise me that he’s already made the moves on you.”

  20

  My heart dropped into my stomach. I sat flabbergasted, staring at the flickering candle and mulling over David’s implications. I didn’t care that my Flamingo nails and Mango lips had come in full contact with one another.

  Brad and Rebecca?

  I caught myself chewing on a fingernail. At least it was fake.

  I forced my hands to the table.

  Was Brad the reason Rebecca had left David in the first place? But why weren’t Brad and Rebecca together now? I thought back to Halloween night, sitting with Brad on my porch. No wonder there had been a softness in the police officer’s voice when he spoke of Rebecca. He was still in love with her.

  But if that were true, then Brad should be happy that Rebecca was divorcing David. Instead, the news had made him seem sad.

  I glanced at David. His eyes looked raw.

  He leaned forward and rested one hand on the tablecloth close to me. “I’m sorry I mentioned Rebecca. I promised myself I wouldn’t tonight.”

  His voice sounded raspy.

  Compassion bubbled up inside me. “There’s no reason to pretend you aren’t hurting.”

  Dinner salads appeared on our place mats. The waiter made a silent escape.

  David speared a cherry tomato. “Loving Rebecca was like loving a rainbow. Beautiful, but unattainable. The closer I tried to get, the further she’d slip away. Until there was nothing left between us. Absolutely nothing.”

  My heart ached for him. “I’m sure you did the best you could. Some people simply can’t open themselves up.” I dug into my salad.

  David gave a half smirk. “It’s nice of you to try and see Rebecca’s side. But the truth is, she’s a coldhearted witch who’d do anything to anybody as long as it meant getting ahead.”

  I leaned back in my chair, hoping to dodge the beams of anger shooting from David’s eyes. From the turn the conversation had taken, I realized it was far too soon for him to be out on a date, unless it was with a licensed therapist.

  I dabbed at my lips with my napkin. “Tell me about your renovation project. I’m so envious. Your place is just beautiful.”

  David’s jaw clenched. “I’m glad you like it. It’s a monument to the three worst years of my life.”

  I laughed. “I can relate. Anyone who survives a renovation project can tell a few war stories. Still, you must be pleased that everything turned out so well.”

  “I believe all expectations were met. If they weren’t, the builder would still be there, doing it over until he got it right.”

  “A perfectionist, I see.”

  As far as my own projects went, perfection was a goal, not a requirement. I knew all too well how tricky old homes could be. Attempting perfection would drive me to the brink, if I weren’t there already.

  “I’m no perfectionist,” David said. “The renovation was Rebecca’s baby. Literally.”

  I chewed the last of my lettuce as I digested the disappointing news. I had been certain David was the brainchild behind the flawless revival. I had felt such a bond with him, such a kinship because of our common love for old homes. Now to find out Rebecca had handled all the details.

  I shifted in my seat. “Wow. She’s incredibly talented. I can’t hold a candle to that.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Your passion for that place of yours will shine through in the end. Rebecca, on the other hand, renovated the house for the advancement of her career. You don’t get a degree in architecture from the University of Michigan and not have a show house to splash across every suburban newspaper’s life section.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize Rebecca was an architect.” My self-esteem dropped a mile. How could I compete with that? But there was no room for regrets. If my life hadn’t happened the way it had, I would never be renovating homes for a living. Who knew where I’d be today?

  I looked at the handsome, hurting man across from me. One thing was certain: I had the same opportunities today that I’d had ten years ago. It was up to me to either grab hold of the good in front of me, or let him slip away and hope I got another chance at love ten years from now.

  Skip loneliness. I choose love.

  Any kinks could be worked out along the way.

  I wanted to drop the whole Rebecca thing. I really did. But curiosity consumed me. “So what’s Rebecca doing now? Is she still renovating homes?”

  David stared at his water glass. “No. She’s out in California, designing skyscrapers at her new firm.”

  I nodded. California was at least a thousand miles away. That was a good thing. I didn’t want Rebecca to be the one rainbow that arced back down to earth to reclaim what she’d tossed away.

  My beef Wellington arrived along with David’s mutton dish. Steam drifted up from the rich gravy and garlic mashed potatoes. I cut through the pastry pocket and sliced off a piece of beef. I chewed, enthralled with the tender meat.

  I swallowed and cut another sliver of beef, reviewing my decision to move to Rawlings. The quaint town made the perfect place to settle down. After David and I got married, we’d live in his Greek Revival, since my Victorian was destined for sale. We’d walk to the Whistle Stop for a cup of morning coffee. We’d sup at the Rawlings Hotel on special occasions. I would go back to school and finish my degree, picking some clever field that allowed more freedom than the average nine-to-fiver.

  And we’d have children. Cute little chubby-cheeked, plump-lipped, freckled British cherubs.

  “It looks like you’re enjoying your meal,” David said, startling me out of my pie-in-the-sky line of thinking. No sense going too far down the wedding aisle without first getting the consent of the groom.

  “Mmm. Everything’s delicious. I can see why you enjoy coming here.” I dabbed at my lips and took a sip of water.

  “Rebecca spoke to the chef when we first moved to Rawlings and convinced him to incorporate some of my favorite traditional English meals. Needless to say, we were regulars here.”

  “That’s nice.” Rebecca’s name was starting to grate on me. I wondered if she’d ever sat in the chair I was sitting in. Certainly her perfectly pink nails had coordinated with her barely blush lip color.

  “Don’t you love how beautifully they’ve decorated this place?” I asked, steering back to a neutral topic.

  “It’s exquisite,” David agreed. “A few years ago, the whole downtown area was dying. Rebecca helped pull together the local merchants. They started promoting the village in the suburbs. Now it’s one of the more attractive and successful historic downtowns in the area.”

  “Is there anything Rebecca can’t do?” I smiled to cover my feeling of inferiority. I’d never be the woman Rebecca was. I couldn’t form merchant
alliances. I couldn’t revive whole downtowns. I couldn’t even get my contractor to show up.

  I swirled my mashed potatoes into the vegetable medley.

  Across from me, David pushed his plate aside, finished with his meal. Obviously, he had less on his mind than I did. I kept chewing and swallowing, determined to finish every delicious bite of food on the fancy china before stress-induced indigestion kicked in.

  He checked his watch, then leaned close. “So. What about you, Tish? What’s your life story?”

  Candlelight danced in his eyes.

  I pushed my plate aside and rested my chin in one palm. “You heard most of my story already. After Gram died, I left the area for about three years. When I came back, I moved into her old house and fixed it up. From there, it’s the same story, different location.”

  David smiled. “Never been married? Never been in love?”

  “Never been married. Thought I was in love once, back in college. Never talked to the guy, but I would have married him in a heartbeat, if he’d have asked.”

  “Let me guess. He was in the engineering program.”

  “How’d you know?” I gave his hand a playful push. The touch shook me. I pulled away and crossed my arms.

  Our eyes linked. I tried to steady my breathing, certain he could tell I was practically gasping for air.

  “Tish.” My name lingered on his tongue. “You are so beautiful. Your smile is so warm. And I can tell you have a very gentle spirit.” He shook his head. “Next to you, Rebecca’s the Ice Queen.”

  I tapped my fingers on my arm. He was doing so well until he said her name.

  I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Thanks for the compliment, but I think it’s going to be awhile before you get Rebecca out of your system. Let’s just keep things platonic for now.”

  My heart felt like it was ripping in two even as I said it. But David was still getting over Rebecca’s departure. I was still recovering from Lloyd & Sons’ abandonment. No sense starting things on the rebound. Everyone knew that was a recipe for failure.

  “I understand,” David replied. He leaned toward me on one elbow. His eyes sparkled with challenge.

  I swallowed.

  On the other hand, there was nothing like romance to take one’s mind off life’s problems. So what if David and I didn’t end up married? We could at least have a little fun while the world with all its problems kept on spinning.

  Unless, of course, it turned out that David had used his key to my house to let himself in, then propped open the basement window with the stick so he could get back in later. And he would only have done that if every word out of his mouth this evening had been a lie.

  And it was Rebecca’s body buried in my basement.

  21

  Apprehension slithered down my spine. I shook it off.

  How foolish. I was acting like a daffy heroine in one of my gothic novels. Suspect everybody. Trust no one.

  Worse, in my case, no crime had even been committed. I was letting a brief flash of superstition, premonition, imagination, or whatever it had been, get to me.

  Yet, something about David hit me at the gut level. Maybe his Ice Queen comment blinked like a beacon, warning me how quickly his love could turn to hate. Whatever the case, I wasn’t quite ready to go full speed ahead with David in the romance department.

  Gut feelings may not be rational, logical, or scientific. But they were still gut feelings. And mine had taken good care of me so far.

  Hadn’t I known right up front that Officer Brad Walters couldn’t be trusted? And tonight I’d been proved right. Brad had seduced David’s wife right out from under him. Shame on Brad. I didn’t care how nice his tomatoes were, how broad his shoulders, how soft his eyes . . . None of that mattered. My gut had been right.

  David locked his gaze on me. I pushed away from the table. “Excuse me, I need to find the ladies’ room.”

  “It’s upstairs,” David said.

  I picked my way through the other diners and fled toward an empty lobby.

  I found the steps in an alcove, hidden from the dining room. I paused at the bottom, daunted by the thought of using a restroom separated from the rest of humanity by one entire floor.

  Behind me, laughter filtered through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.

  I took a deep breath and ran up the stairs. The effort sent jolts of invigorating pain up my bad leg. Each step creaked and shook as I landed.

  I made it to the bathroom, nothing more than a remodeled nook with two stalls. Thankfully there were no ladies present to hear my wheezing as I leaned against striped wallpaper to catch my breath.

  I took my time, not sure why I wasn’t in a hurry to get back to David.

  A few minutes later, I washed up and turned to go. I reached for the door handle.

  The knob wrenched out of my grasp as the door flung open.

  I squealed and leaped back against the wall.

  “Sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” It was another diner, one of the ladies from the clothing store. She stood in the doorway and looked at me. “That outfit looks lovely on you. Just lovely.”

  She disappeared into a stall.

  I hovered inside the restroom, examining the details of a Monet print. I walked to the sink and checked my makeup. A moment later, the Clothing Junction cashier joined me at the basin. I scooted over to make room.

  I caught her eyes in the reflection. “I’m really enjoying this outfit,” I said, “although it is a little out of my usual price range.” I gave an exaggerated swallow.

  “Our clothing is an attitude, really.” She smoothed her eyebrows in the mirror. “How much does a person feel she is worth? Twenty dollars or two hundred dollars? Your twin, Sandra Jones, knew she was worth every dollar she invested in herself. Her good taste was undeniable, at least where clothing was concerned.”

  I gave her a questioning look.

  “It’s no secret she has terrible taste in men.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  She rubbed her hands vigorously under the water. “Martin Dietz is a cutthroat. Nice women shouldn’t get involved with men like him,” she said.

  The woman grabbed paper toweling from the dispenser and continued. “Sandra had everything going for her. She could have picked anybody to be her suitor. But once Martin Dietz made up his mind that Sandra was what he wanted, the poor dear didn’t have a chance. Anyone could tell she’d never get out of that relationship easily.”

  I pictured the scene between Martin Dietz and Tammy Johnson at the Beauty Boutique. I cringed, hoping Tammy could withstand Dietz’s brash advances.

  “It’s so sad what Dietz did to Sandra.” I leaned against the wall.

  “I only wish she would have stood up for herself better. If someone gives you a public lambasting, you’re at least entitled to a public rebuttal.” She shook her head. “But Sandra didn’t have it in her. It’s best she dropped out of politics. I’m just sorry she let him run her out of town.”

  “That is too bad.” I crossed my arms. “What about Rebecca Ramsey? Did she shop at your store often?”

  The woman smoothed the front of her expensive fitted jacket. “Rebecca Ramsey made token purchases all over town. She wanted to stay on good terms with everyone.” The sides of her mouth pulled down. “But everyone knows the kind of person she really is.” The woman gave me a knowing look. “The kind of woman that nice men should stay away from.”

  I thought of Officer Brad’s attachment to Rebecca, and David’s misfortune in having married her in the first place. How could love be so screwed up that all the right people fell in love with all the wrong ones?

  “Anyway,” she said, toweling off her hands, “I see Martin Dietz already has your number. Be sure you don’t cross him.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  My leg throbbed as I picked my way back downstairs.

  I’d gone through a lot of trouble to make everything perfect for tonight. New hairstyle, new nail
s, new slacks and sweater.

  And for what?

  David held a multitude of possibilities, but was I ready for him? I couldn’t make it through a date without dredging up Basement Lady, Coffee Girl, Officer Brad, and the Ex-Wife.

  Not that David didn’t have plenty of his own hang-ups to work on. But that’s what love was all about, wasn’t it? Helping each other through life’s hang-ups?

  I paused at the bottom of the steps, reluctant to turn the corner, not sure I wanted to face any of the non-decisions I’d made. I stood and listened to the kitchen sounds. The crew worked well together, joking, cooking, and cleaning. After a moment, I turned the corner and settled at the table.

  “Dessert, Tish?” David sounded short of breath. His hair and shoulders had little droplets of water on them.

  “You look like you got sprinkled by the veggie wash at the supermarket.” I smiled and scooted my chair in.

  “I stepped onto the porch for some air. First snow of the year tonight.” David smoothed his hair and the drops disappeared.

  Our waiter wheeled over a tray of gourmet pies and cakes. Normally, the sight of three kinds of cheesecake and several varieties of chocolate layer cake would have me ordering a sample of each. But the stress of the evening had finally caught up. I had no appetite for dessert. All I wanted was to go home, curl up in my cot, and read a creepy romance. My problems always disappeared in light of the screwy lives unfolding on those three hundred or so pages.

  “Just coffee for me, please,” I said.

  David folded his hands on the table. “I would have pegged you for the dessert type. A secret chocolate lover.”

  “I am. Just not tonight.”

  “I knew it.” David’s grin was triumphant. “Anybody who would make a big deal out of granola versus Sugar Puffs has to be a closet chocoholic.”

  I gave a weary smile, hoping the waiter would hurry with that coffee.

  David and I small-talked through one cup each.

  The waiter arrived with the bill.

  I jumped up and put my coat on.

  “I’ll wait in the lobby,” I said.