by Lacey Baker
There were already dishes on the table, some covered with foil and others with glass or plastic tops. It looked as if they were preparing to feed an army. With half the town expected, it would seem like they were doing exactly that. Two tables held Sterno racks lined up neatly. Fires were lit beneath them, and aromas coming from whatever was being kept warm inside the pans filled the tent.
“They do and they’re still home where they were born, where they’re used to being. I think that’s so important,” Michelle said when she was satisfied with where she’d set the two glass pitchers full of punch.
Nikki couldn’t wait to taste it—Michelle’s punch looked more like a really cool, colorful ice cream concoction. She’d already started walking out of the tent, and Nikki followed her.
“The others are thriving, though. They’re gaining weight and growing. I think they’ll be fine.”
“I’m worried about Sweet Dixi,” she said when they were once again at the trunk.
Nikki was, too, but she had to let that go. There was nothing she could do about that anymore.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. Quinn’s probably found a great home for her by now.”
Michelle shook her head as she waited for Nikki to get the last cake and closed the trunk.
“No. He hasn’t,” she said simply then passed Nikki and headed back inside the tent.
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
“So he’s keeping her?” So much for listening to her conscience.
“Yes, he is,” Michelle replied tightly.
“You don’t think that’s a good idea?” she pressed when Michelle stood looking at the food, a frown marring her brow.
“Huh? Oh, Quinn. I think he might be getting it together. But who knows, only time will tell.”
And that’s all she had an opportunity to say because Odell came in at that moment with Daisy and Celia Bellmont, all three of them with more food in hand. For the next forty-five minutes Nikki was either sticking serving spoons into dishes, pulling off foil, rewrapping dishes, or putting out more paper plates and cutlery. Who was the guest of honor again?
* * *
Hoover and Inez King lived in a newly built detached Cape Cod house just before the opening to Yates Passage. From what Quinn had learned from Liza, they’d just purchased the land in the last two years and had this house built as a sign that they were the ones responsible for the redevelopment in that area. As Liza put it, “Inez loves to show off, thinks it makes her more of a Fitzgerald if she has money and land. Not that it helps since she’s still a third cousin to a family famous for dismissing anyone who isn’t first in the bloodline.”
Quinn had talked to Liza over the phone several times while he was in Seattle, in an attempt to figure out what exactly had happened with the taxes. His investigation had led him here, back to Sweetland, walking up the steps to the beige-sided house with the pristine white trim.
A young woman dressed in a maid’s uniform opened the door with a smile. Quinn almost grimaced because what in the world did the Kings need a maid for? Maybe to pick up after Hoover’s drunken habits.
“Good morning, I’m here to see Inez. I’m Quinn Cantrell,” he said pleasantly.
“Come on in, sir. I’ll get Mrs. King for you right away,” she told him with a smile and a lightness to her step that Quinn hoped she wouldn’t lose working in this house with two of the craziest people he’d ever met.
He tried not to look around too much, so as not to be disgusted by all the money they’d spent building and decorating this house. All the money that hadn’t been theirs to spend.
“What are you doing here?”
Quinn turned from where he’d been standing admiring the fireplace despite himself. Inez was dressed in white linen pants and a gray top. Her short hair was combed straight down, resting with blunt edges at her chin. On her fingers diamonds sparkled as cool as the glint of her crystalline blue eyes as she glared at him.
“I wanted to take care of this business with my family’s inn,” he told her, not bothering with any other formalities.
She lifted a hand and waved him away. “Call my office and make an appointment for sometime next week. This is the weekend and I do not do business from my house.”
Inez had been all prepared to walk out when Quinn’s words stopped her. “Chief Farraway will be pulling up in about ten minutes to take you down to the station for questioning.”
She froze, then turned in what was a very poised motion considering what he’d just said to her.
“What are you talking about?” she inquired.
“I’m talking about the money you’ve been embezzling from the city fund. The exorbitant interest and penalties you’ve been attaching to everything from local water bills to tax bills and collecting from the fine folks of Sweetland.”
“How dare you.” She started walking toward him in slow, measured steps. “Do you have any idea who you’re messing with?”
Her thin lips had all but disappeared into straight slashes, webbed lines forming at the corners.
“It appears I’m dealing with a cheater who likes to abuse her power. What I also found very interesting—and this is courtesy of my brother Preston and a certain PI firm he employs—was the connection you have to A.W. Investments.”
She visibly paled then, her eyes growing bigger as she swallowed slowly.
A.W. Investments was owned by Aaron Witherspoon, the same man who had employed Randall Davis. Of course the PI was still following up on leads because Quinn wanted to feed everything he knew about the two cases to the authorities as soon as possible. But it looked as if Nikki hadn’t been the only female Randall had met up with two years ago. Inez King’s number had also been listed on Davis’s cell phone bill. The exact connection, Quinn still wasn’t sure of, but together with the bills to Sweetland residents that had been substantially inflated and prepared by Inez, and the deductions from the city accounts that matched deposits into the Kingses’ account, Chief Farraway hadn’t had any problem securing an arrest warrant from the judge in Easton.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, everything from her bony shoulders to her ring-clad hands shaking. “You don’t even belong in this town.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Quinn stated, taking a step toward her. He wouldn’t touch her. No, that was definitely not a possibility no matter how angry he was for the scheme she’d tried to get away with. “My great-grandfather was once mayor of Sweetland. My grandmother was instrumental in Sweetland’s revitalization and a pillar of this community. And I was born and raised here. Sweetland is my home,” he stated without qualm.
“Since when?” was her reply. “Oh, since you started sleeping with a local. That tramp sleeps with everybody. I’ve even seen her chasing after Hoover.”
Right, Quinn thought and almost laughed. Nikki really wanted Hoover King. “Just so you know, we’ll be keeping the inn and the land surrounding it. Just in case you were thinking of offering it to one of your business associates.”
“We’ll just see about that!” she tossed at him a second before another knock sounded at her front door.
Inez spun around so fast Quinn thought she might lose her balance and hit the floor. Instead a hand went to her neck as she looked back at him, then toward the door once more. She was trying to figure out if she should run or not.
“Don’t even think about it,” Quinn advised her. If he had to he would hold her down until Chief Farraway could get inside to detain her.
Luckily it didn’t come to that. Farraway was walking into the living room just as Inez had taken her first step.
“Let’s make this as easy as possible, Inez,” he said to her.
Quinn didn’t think this was going to end well. So once he knew Inez King would be taken into custody and prosecuted for her crimes, he left without looking back.
* * *
The barbecue had started an hour and a half ago. Quinn knew this and had timed himself so he
’d arrive late. Making an entrance wasn’t his plan; slipping in quietly and unnoticed was. He’d been back in Sweetland since early this morning. His flight had actually come in at six; then he’d taken a shuttle to the garage a couple of miles from the airport where his car had been stored once it arrived from Seattle.
Dixi had sat quietly in her carrier on the backseat, loving the breeze that blew in from the open back windows.
“You’re home, Sweet Dixi,” he’d told her as he drove down the highway headed back to Sweetland.
The last two weeks had been a flurry of activity for him and his puppy. Sweet Dixi had immediately been enrolled in puppy training classes. He’d been amazed to learn there was even such a thing, but had figured this would be a good idea and was absolutely right. Sweet Dixi had thrived in puppy kindergarten and socialization class. And while they hadn’t been able to stay for her progression to puppy middle school—which would cover more of the basics for puppies—he’d received an excellent referral from the school in Seattle to one in Easton. It would only be a forty-five-minute drive to keep Dixi’s training current. Quinn definitely planned to keep up with the training as he had quickly fallen in love with his better-behaved puppy, who didn’t pee in his shoes but still stole the remote control every couple of days.
Before heading to the inn he’d made a couple of stops, one for Inez King. That confrontation hadn’t really been necessary. He could have simply let the police take care of it. But Quinn admitted it was a matter of pride. He needed to show her she hadn’t beaten him or his family.
Afterward, feeling almost 100 percent better about his return, he’d headed to the inn. He’d used the restaurant entrance hoping to avoid running into any of his siblings on his way to the caretaker’s suite. He should have known better.
“Well, you came back,” she’d said when she came out of the kitchen with the spatula that Quinn figured was her weapon of choice in hand.
“I did,” he said simply. He’d talked to Michelle over the phone a couple times since he’d been gone. One, to check on how things were going with Parker’s rehab—even though he’d talked to Parker himself—and two to find out how Michelle was doing and if she were still upset with him.
“Are you staying?” she’d asked simply.
It was a simple enough question. “I am,” he’d replied without hesitation.
“Good,” she’d said, the corners of her lips lifting in a smile just before she turned and walked back into the kitchen. Before she was completely out of earshot she’d yelled, “The Brockingtons are having a big celebration for Nikki this afternoon at four, just in case you’re interested.”
Of course he was interested, Michelle knew that. Quinn smiled, shaking his head as he and Dixi headed back to the caretaker’s suite where they would stay with Parker.
Speak of the devil.
“Want to tell me what you’re up to?” Parker asked from the recliner where he sat, his leg propped up in the knee-to-ankle brace given to him by his therapist.
“I’m about to take a shower and get dressed to go to the barbecue. You want to go with me?” Quinn asked after digging in his bag for clean clothes since he’d yet to completely unpack.
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” Parker said with a chuckle.
“That’s my answer,” Quinn replied and headed to the bathroom. There were two full bathrooms upstairs that catered to the four of the guest rooms. The largest room—which they rented out as a suite—had its own bathroom. On the first floor were two full bathrooms, the one in the caretaker’s suite and the one that had newly been built with the room Sylvester stayed in, and a powder room just off the foyer.
“Fine. But if you’re going to see Nikki I should tell you that she’s been going out with that cop, Jonah.”
Quinn almost stopped his procession to the bathroom. Almost. But he knew that’s exactly the reaction Parker was waiting for. Instead he kept on walking, yelling over his shoulder just as he came to the door.
“Not for long.”
* * *
It had only taken about twenty minutes for Quinn to see Nikki for the first time since he’d left. She was standing by the swings with her nieces holding a cup as she watched them both go back and forth into the air. The sun shone down directly on her, like a spotlight. Her hair—those soft curls he’d missed rubbing between his fingers—reflected the rays and looked more golden brown than he remembered. The same went for her complexion. She’d tanned, he thought as her smooth skin looked sun-kissed and tempting. Her body hadn’t changed and neither had his reaction to it, he figured as he went to take a step and felt himself hardening.
Too many times since he’d been here he’d been stopped by someone to talk about his return, or—in the case of Marabelle and Louisa, who were once again out without their husbands—his departure in the first place. That’s why it had taken him so long to get to Nikki.
He moved toward her like a man on a mission, which he was technically. It wasn’t until he was about four feet from her that she looked up and caught his gaze. For a moment in time everything went perfectly still. Noise from the other guests faded into the background until he’d swear it was just the two of them standing out here, just as they’d been that first night he kissed her.
She was shocked to see him, he could tell by the way her eyes had momentarily widened. Almost immediately that shock was transformed to cool acceptance. She stood straighter, switched her cup from one hand to another, but did not look away. No, Nikki wouldn’t look away. She wouldn’t walk away, either. Whatever he had to say and however she decided to deal with it she would not run. That fact made him love her even more.
“Hello, Nicole,” he said when he was closer to her.
She tilted her head, raising a brow. “I’m Nicole now?”
Yes, this reception was going to be a cool one. Quinn could only hope that everything he had to say, everything he’d done over the last three weeks, and everything he felt inside for this woman would be enough, because he didn’t have a plan B.
“You look really good,” he told her instead of responding to her inquiry.
“Thank you,” she said with a look that revealed how resigned she was to this meeting no matter what. “When did you come back?”
“This morning.”
“How’s Dixi?” she asked.
“She’s really good. You should see what she’s learned.”
Again she had a shocked look. “You trained her?”
“I enrolled her in classes and she did really well.”
She nodded. “Wow, that’s … ah, great.”
“You didn’t think I’d keep her, did you?”
The youngest niece, Zyra was her name, struggled to get down off the swing, calling for Nikki to help. Quinn moved ahead instead, lifting the little girl under her arms and placing her gently on the ground. “There you go, princess,” he said with a smile and was rewarded with one right back from Zyra.
“Here you go, sweetie,” Nikki said when Zyra walked over to her. She bent down, holding the cup to the little girl’s lips, and waited while she took a sip.
“Potty,” she said loudly the moment she finished drinking.
Behind Quinn there came an overexaggerated sigh. When he turned it was to see the older sister, Mimi, jumping down from her swing.
“I’ll take her, Aunt Nikki. She says she has to go but she doesn’t when we get there,” Mimi said with frustration.
“She’s still learning, right, baby?” Nikki asked Zyra, who nodded her response. “Just be careful walking with her cup and take her all the way upstairs to the bathroom.”
“I knoooow,” was Mimi’s reply.
As Nikki stood she shook her head. “I swear that girl acts like a teenager already.”
“They’re both really cute. Cordy’s doing a wonderful job with them.”
“She is. And Barry adores them.”
“I’ll bet. If I had two beautiful girls like that I’d adore them, too,” h
e replied honestly.
Nikki didn’t respond.
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. Kids, I mean,” he said, trying like hell to resist the urge to reach out and touch her.
“Really?”
He nodded. “I’d like kids one day. Guess that means my biological clock is ticking.” He chuckled but she didn’t join in.
“It’s usually the female that goes through that,” she quipped.
He shook his head. “You’re too young for your clock to be ticking already.”
She shrugged but didn’t say anything.
“I’ve also been thinking a lot about you.”
“Quinn, don’t,” she said, shaking her head.
He reached out this time and caught the hand she was just about to raise to ward him off. His fingers gripped her wrist lightly. “No. I have to say this,” he told her.
A month ago she wouldn’t have believed a word he’d said. He’d done the unspeakable by calling her Sharane, he knew that. And couldn’t take it back even if he tried. What he’d wanted to do the moment she stood up and couldn’t even look at him was pull her close to him, tell her how much he loved her, how he couldn’t possibly be still in love with a ghost because there wasn’t enough room in his heart now that she’d taken over.
Then she’d told him to go. He’d thought about insisting he stay, but didn’t want to cause a scene for her. He’d done enough. The way Nikki had looked at him at the hospital had said it all. She hated him. And yet he’d felt something else as he’d walked away. There was a little bit of hope—at least he prayed there was.
The thing about Nikki was that she knew how to say what she meant and mean what she said. If she told you something you believed it because she was honest and candid and as transparent as plastic wrap. She’d given him her heart, even if she hadn’t told him she had. And he’d been careless with it. Damn him for being the fool.
Now he was back in Sweetland and this time it was with a purpose. He hadn’t been thinking of Sharane when he was with Nikki that night. Okay, yes, he had. But his thoughts were on Sylvester’s words from earlier that day. How he should have been able to let Sharane go, how he’d given her as much grieving time as he could and that even Sharane wouldn’t have wanted him to waste his life feeling bad about what happened to her. “It just happens, Quinn. I didn’t wake up and ask for this but I’m not going to spend the time I have left being angry about it or hating everyone around me for circumstances they had nothing to do with and couldn’t prevent even if they’d tried.” That’s what Sharane had told him the night they’d walked along the riverside and she’d told him she had stomach cancer.