A Quarter for a Kiss

by Mindy Starns Clark

  Heart pounding, I opened the door and leaned inside, searching desperately for the bags for “Streep.” I finally found them, though the ant baits were nowhere to be seen.

  I glanced up at the restaurant to see Tom and Gerald standing at the bar, Tom pointing off down the road in the other direction and Gerald telling him something.

  “Come on!” I whispered to myself, starting again and working my way through the bags for Streep. I finally found the ant traps; they had been wrapped in a plastic grocery bag before being put in with the food. Of course.

  As fast as I could, I replaced my box with theirs, wrapping it in the plastic and sticking it down in the paper bag. Then I got out of the car, shut the door, and returned to my own vehicle. Glancing toward Tom, I grabbed my cell and texted him one word: Done.

  After a moment I saw him pull out his phone, glance at the screen, and then slide it back into his pocket, all without missing a beat. Soon he had wrapped things up and returned to the car.

  “That was closer than you think,” he said softly as he got in and closed the door. “Tell me again why you do this for a living?”

  I took his hand and gave it a squeeze even as I watched Gerald heading off down the road in his station wagon.

  “Because I’m good at it,” I said. “Also, my boss is really, really cute.”

  “Yeah, I’m real cute right now,” he said, running a hand across his brow. “That was nerve-racking.”

  “The hard part’s over,” I said. “You can relax.”

  “Over?” he asked, shaking his head. “Are you kidding? We still have to get that transmitter in place near the house.”

  Twenty-Seven

  I thought it might be a good idea to take a break, so I suggested we go back inside the little restaurant and get something to drink. There was no big rush because once the ant baits were delivered to Dianne’s, we still had to wait until someone got around to distributing them throughout the house. There was also the matter of how we were going to get the transmitter in place. I had some ideas, but no real plan.

  I stopped by the bathroom first to scrub my hands and then met Tom at our table. It was only then that I took a moment to look around and see what an incredible place this was. Perched on the crest of a mountain, it was a small open-air bar and restaurant with one of the most amazing views I had ever seen. From where we sat along the railing, you could look down over the rolling mountains of St. John, across the water, and at the many islands dotting the sea beyond.

  “Kind of takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”

  We looked up to see the bartender at our table, doubling as a waiter.

  “You’re not kidding,” I said. “What a view.”

  He gave us menus and then came back a few minutes later to take our order: iced tea for me, a cheeseburger and soda for Tom.

  “Are you still hungry?” I asked after the waiter walked away, feeling full from the ham sandwich I’d had at lunch.

  “I’m something,” Tom said. “Might as well eat.”

  “Takes the edge off, does it?”

  “An edge this big, I don’t know. I’m feeling very conflicted right now, Callie. Very conflicted.”

  He rubbed his hands together and then put them on his knees, a nervous gesture I had seen him do before.

  “What is it?”

  “I just don’t like to think about the fact that this is the sort of thing you do all the time. You do it for me. In fact, you get paid for it by me. I don’t want to put you in that kind of danger. What if you get hurt?”

  “Investigating charities isn’t exactly this risky,” I said. “I’m not this kind of PI anymore.” I thought back over the past year and knew that wasn’t exactly true. “Well,” I amended, “only when something unusual comes up.”

  He sat back, tearing tiny pieces from his paper napkin. Fortunately, we had the restaurant to ourselves except for the waiter/bartender, who was now out of earshot.

  “I keep thinking about last fall,” Tom said, “when I asked you to look into the murder of Wendell Smythe.”

  I nodded, remembering the case where I went to deliver a grant to a charity, only to find the owner of that charity dead on the floor! Wendell had been an old friend of Tom’s, and once the death had been deemed a homicide, Tom had asked me to do a murder investigation.

  “What was I thinking?” he said now, shaking his head. “That you could do your job from behind a desk? That you could go around and ask a few simple questions and find a murderer? I put you in harm’s way, Callie. It wasn’t until all of this with Eli came up that I really understood that.”

  The waiter brought our drinks and I took a sip of mine, looking out at the view and collecting my thoughts. I’d had this conversation plenty of times before with someone who loved me and didn’t like how I earned my living. Bryan had never been happy with my profession, and he didn’t let it rest until the day I quit Eli’s agency and went to work at the law firm.

  “I could sit here and tell you all kinds of things,” I said, “about how any risks I take are my choice, or that I’m always careful and you don’t need to worry, blah blah blah.”

  “Yes?”

  “But the truth is, my father is a cop. My brother is a cop. I know how it feels to watch the ones you love walk out of the door in the morning and wonder if they’ll come back alive that night. Believe it or not, I know exactly what you’re saying, and I understand.”

  “Yet…”

  “Yet it doesn’t change who I am. I’m good at this stuff, Tom. I have a real talent for it. And despite the danger, I actually enjoy it. When I went into law, I thought I could turn my back on investigating, but the truth is I didn’t really feel complete, work-wise, until I found a job that combined law and investigating. My job for your foundation is the perfect mix of both. How can you feel guilty for the fact that, thanks to you, I am professionally fulfilled? How many people do you know who can really say that?”

  “Not many,” he admitted.

  “How about you?” I asked. “You love your work, don’t you?”

  He looked out over the vista in front of us.

  “Yes,” he said emphatically. “I do.”

  “Then you understand how it is. God wouldn’t have given me these talents and desires if He didn’t expect me to go out and use them.”

  I lowered my voice and looked Tom in the eyes.

  “Besides,” I whispered, “it’s fun being one of the good guys. I like knowing that my job makes a difference in the world. With all you do as a philanthropist, Tom, you more than anyone should understand that concept. As for your other…occupation…well, would you do the whole cryptology thing if you didn’t feel exactly the same way, if you didn’t also like being the hero on a white horse? Would any of it be worth it if you didn’t?”

  “I guess not.”

  “And that’s my point. I love my job, and I love the fruits of my job. Please don’t get all crazy about the danger it sometimes puts me in. This is who I am. Period.”

  The echo of my own voice sounded a little harsh. I reached out and touched him on the shoulder and spoke again, this time using a more gentle tone.

  “I’m sorry, Tom, but I fought this battle with Bryan for years. I don’t want to fight it with you too.”

  He nodded, his expression thoughtful.

  “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

  His cheeseburger came then, looking so big and juicy I almost wished I had ordered one as well. I watched as he lifted the bun, added some ketchup, and put on the lettuce and tomato.

  “Think about my poor mom,” I mused as he took a bite. “Her husband’s a police lieutenant, her son’s a detective, and her daughter’s a private investigator. Somehow, she sleeps at night. If she can do it, anybody can.”

  “I guess so.”

  We were silent for a moment, but there was something settled in the air between us.

  “What about your own kids?” he asked suddenly, surprising me with the turn of the conversation.
“What would you do if your daughter told you she wanted to be a PI?”

  He took a big bite of his burger and chewed as he waited for my answer. I hesitated, thinking that somehow Tom always had a way of coming at me out of left field.

  “I’d lock her in her bedroom and throw away the key,” I admitted finally.

  He offered me a bite of his burger, which I took. It was as good as it looked.

  “We haven’t ever really talked about kids, have we?” he said, changing the subject and surprising me again.

  I dabbed at my mouth with my napkin.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just this…Callie, do you want children?”

  I looked out at the far islands, thinking there weren’t words enough in all of God’s universe to express how badly I wanted children. Sometimes the desire to be a mother overwhelmed me. It was at those times, especially, that I had to give it over to the Lord, praying He would bless me in that way only if it was His will for my life. That was not always an easy prayer for me, especially considering that I was already in my thirties.

  “Bryan and I were trying to get pregnant when he was killed,” I said softly, and from the flash of some expression in Tom’s eyes, I knew I had surprised him in return. “He wanted four. I wanted three. Considering all that happened, I would’ve settled for one.”

  “And now?”

  I stirred my drink, giving myself a moment to respond.

  “And now I understand that sometimes God’s plans are different than our plans. I’m much more resigned to accepting my blessings as they come.”

  “But do you want children?”

  I leaned forward on my elbows and looked him right in the eye.

  “With every fiber of my being,” I said.

  An intense expression came over his face.

  “How is it,” he asked, looking at me so deeply that it was as though he were seeing into my soul, “that you are the most independent, self-sufficient woman I have ever known, and yet I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life taking care of you and giving you every single one of your heart’s desires?”

  Our eyes locked. It was an important moment between us. I realized that maybe it wasn’t too soon to say these things. We weren’t teenagers, after all. Life had left us with a lot of scars but also with some wisdom.

  “Tom, why haven’t you ever married?” I asked. It was something I had wondered for a long time but hadn’t had the nerve to ask.

  “I almost did,” he replied, sitting back in his seat. “She cancelled our engagement a month before the wedding. Actually, she left me a note calling things off before running away to Europe.”

  “But why?” I asked. “What went wrong?”

  He shook his head and smiled.

  “Veronica was a sweet girl, but she wasn’t ready for marriage. She was right to break it off.”

  “But not to tell you to your face?” I asked. “That was cowardly.”

  “I don’t hold a grudge. It wouldn’t have worked. We didn’t know how to communicate. And the things that kept us together were all the wrong things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Obligation, for one. Our parents were best friends, and they had been pushing us together for years. ‘Veronica and Tom, the perfect couple.’ It was hard to disappoint them.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “History, for another. I mean, when you date someone for so long, you can sort of get to the point where you think, Did I waste all this time? Do I really have to start over with someone else? In a way it was just easier to get engaged than it was to think about calling it quits.” He looked out at the distant horizon and then focused back on me. “Callie, you have no idea how glad I am it all played out the way it did. I wish Veronica well, but I didn’t really love her enough to marry her. I haven’t been emotionally involved with anyone since. Not to any great extent, anyway. Until now. Until you, Callie. The love I feel for you has surpassed any sort of emotion I have ever experienced.”

  With those words, he took my hand, and for a moment my heart stopped.

  “I have something for you,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “I was just waiting for the right time and place to give it to you.”

  In sudden astonishment I wondered if he was about to ask me to marry him. My eyes widened at the glimpse of a small velvet box.

  “Can I get you guys anything else?”

  We looked up, startled by the server. A few people had parked their cars nearby and were wandering into the restaurant.

  The moment had passed. Red-faced, Tom slid the box back into his pocket.

  “Just the check,” he said brusquely, releasing my hand and reaching for his wallet.

  Heart pounding, I tried to think through the swirl of emotions that was overtaking me. On the one hand, I wasn’t ready! On the other hand, a part of me wanted this more than anything I had ever wanted in my life.

  We were silent walking to the car and then for the first mile of driving. Finally, I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I looked over at Tom and then back at the road.

  “What are you thinking right now?” I asked.

  He was quiet for a while.

  “Just that three is a good number,” he replied finally, trying to act nonchalant. “I think three kids would be just about perfect.”

  Twenty-Eight

  We wanted to be back on a boat by sunset, but first we made a quick stop at the house to pick up some more items from Eli’s closet. Jodi wasn’t there, but she had left a note inviting us to join her and her friends for dinner at a place called “Morgan’s Mango” if we were free around eight o’clock. As a P.S. to the note, she had written “Fun stuff if you’re still out boating” with a smiley face and a little arrow pointing to an overstuffed tote bag on the table. I went through it quickly to see two beach towels, a pretty batik bathing suit cover-up, a big bottle of sunscreen, a bag of chips, and two sun visors.

  I grabbed a pen and wrote back, saying thanks for the invite, but we would be tied up. In fact, I added, I didn’t want her to worry if we never made it home tonight at all. I also thanked her for the boating stuff. Grabbing the tote bag by the handles, I lugged it out to the car along with everything else.

  We made a quick stop in town at “Denny’s Dive Shop” for some scuba equipment, and then we spent a bit more time hunting around for a store carrying mountain-climbing tools. Not surprisingly, we couldn’t find anything. In the end, we went to a hardware store, and Tom improvised by buying ropes and clamps and things there.

  Then we headed back to the harbor and talked to the rental agency about a different boat. The one we finally picked was much more suitable to our needs, a 25-foot Kiwi with two powerful outboard motors, a cabin under the front, and a much lower-to-the-water profile.

  “We’ll take it,” I said.

  I was feeling guilty about all of the money Tom had spent so far. I tried to help, but he insisted on paying for everything himself.

  “This isn’t a J.O.S.H.U.A. investigation!” I argued as we loaded everything onto the boat. “There’s no reason for you to be footing all of the bills.”

  “No reason not to,” he replied, holding out a hand to help me on board. “I owe Eli a lot more than just money.”

  This time there was no flybridge on the boat. Instead, the part where Tom sat to drive was near the back, and the part with the cabin below and seating above was in the front. The interior of the cabin wasn’t as big nor as elaborate as the last one, but it would do. I brought our stuff down to the little kitchen area and spread everything out on the table. Tom readied the boat, started it up, and drove us out of the harbor.

  While he guided us out on the water, I pulled out my cell phone to call my dad. He and I hadn’t touched base since our conversation when I was in Florida, and I knew he would want to hear from me. Mainly, though, I wanted to know what the police had told him about their investigation.

  “Callie, is that you?” my mom asked. “What’s al
l that noise?”

  “I’m down in the Virgin Islands,” I replied loudly. “I’m not sure how good this connection is going to be.”

  “The Virgin Islands?” she cried. “My goodness, but you do get around a lot. Where are you staying?”

  “Stella has a house down here, on St. John. I’m here with her daughter.” And Tom, I couldn’t bring myself to add.

  “Oh, honey,” my mom said, her familiar, soothing tones welcome in my ear, “I heard about Eli. I know you must be upset.”

  “Yeah, it’s terrible,” I said. “But we’re…I’m on the case. Maybe something will break soon.”

  “Your father’s been on the phone a lot. He said the police in Florida haven’t gotten very far.”

  “Well, it’s all kind of complicated. Is he around?”

  She said he had just run down to the store but that he would be right back.

  “Do you want him to call you when he comes home?” she asked.

  “No, I’ll try later,” I said.

  We started to say goodbye, but suddenly I felt compelled to tell my mother about Tom. She didn’t know he and I were dating. It would be a shame to show up engaged and give her a heart attack.

  “Hey, Mom?” I said. “You know my boss, Tom?”

  “Yes?”

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

  “Our relationship has changed. We’re…dating now.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. To be honest I think I’m in love with him.”

  She chuckled.

  “Oh, I know that, honey. I figured it out months ago.”

  “How?” I asked loudly, my eyes flying open.

  “You’re not the only detective around here,” she said. “I’d put a mother’s intuition against one of your techniques any old day.”

  I grinned, playing with a loose thread on the seat cushion.

  “How do you feel about it?” I asked. “Do you think it’s too soon?”