Gotcha!

by Fern Michaels

  Inside, Julie put the cups in the dishwasher and turned on the kitchen TV. She turned on Fox News in time to hear Sean Hannity say that Mace Carlisle had been cleared of any and all wrongdoing, and that his children’s cholesterol drug was ready for market. Julie’s closed fist shot high in the air. The camera switched to an interview Eileen Carlisle was giving. She looked mean and hateful when she said, “What did you expect? He paid them off.” Julie turned off the television and sat there thinking and wondering how soon she would get a response to the letter she’d sent out a few days ago. Probably never, since they hadn’t answered her first one years ago. She felt like crying, but hope springs eternal.

  It wasn’t until she laid her head on her pillow that tears formed in her eyes. She was going to miss Mace Carlisle. Really miss him. Not romantically, just his friendship. Years ago, she had forsaken all her friends because she didn’t want to burden them with her problems. She missed talking to people. She’d been so insulated these last years, with just her children and the dogs. And now she was going to lose Mace, too. Only this time, it was through no fault of her own. When her pillow became too wet, she turned it over, punched it a few times, and once again tried to go to sleep.

  Chapter 8

  Mace Carlisle looked around the little alpine cottage in which he’d been living the past two months. His bag, a canvas sports bag he’d bought from a local shop, was bulging with the things he’d purchased during his stay. Maybe he should leave all of it behind so when he returned, his things would be waiting for him. Because, he was going to return. Of that there was no doubt in his mind. And if he was lucky, Julie Wyatt would give him a long-term lease. On the other hand, maybe on his return, he would think about purchasing a house of his own, one that would be close by.

  Lola was rubbing up against his legs, sensing all was not right. He hated that he was leaving and taking her to another unknown situation, but Julie said that as long as he was in Lola’s life, the dog would adapt to any environment. Julie, in his opinion, was an expert in all things pertaining to dogs. He smiled when he thought about how she’d trained Gracie, who she said was the brains of the outfit, to lock and unlock the doors, to set the alarm, and to always be vigilant. The smile stayed with him when his thoughts turned to Cooper and his neediness and how she handled it. There was no doubt, not one shred of doubt, that should Julie Wyatt ever find herself in trouble, Cooper and Gracie would tear to shreds anyone intending her harm.

  Mace felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t want to leave, that was the bottom line. He gave the canvas bag at his feet a vicious kick. Lola whimpered, sensing her master’s distress. Mace was quick to drop to his knees to hug the dog. He crooned to her. “It’s okay, Lola. We are coming back. I have some things to take care of, then we’re going to come back here so fast your head will spin. That’s a promise, and I never break a promise. Now, let’s get ready to go on that picnic out at the lake Julie planned for us.”

  Mace looked at the expensive watch on his wrist, wondering why he’d ever bought it in the first place. Why in the hell he needed to know about sea level and all the other things the watch told him was beyond him. When he got back here, he would go to the drugstore in town and buy a plain old watch with a leather strap, the kind everyone else in town, including Julie, wore. Julie said nine thirty, and it was already nine thirty.

  Mace opened the door. Lola ran to Cooper and Gracie, who were waiting for the command to hop into the back of the Blazer.

  It was a beautiful day, and the humidity hadn’t kicked in yet; but it would. The sun was golden, the sky clear blue, the clouds, those he could see, were like puffy cotton balls. A light breeze fluttered through the trees. A picture postcard-perfect day. When he came back, he was going to bring a camera and take pictures of every tree, every person, every house, every blade of grass, and put them all in an album the way his mother used to.

  He watched Julie as she slid a wicker hamper into the back of the Blazer. She looked like a young girl in her khaki shorts, yellow tank top, and sneakers, the kind he’d seen in the shoe store in town that sold for $5.98 a pair. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail with a yellow ribbon. She looked like she was thirty, not the fifty-eight she said she was.

  Julie Wyatt, his landlady, his friend, his savior. That’s how he thought of Julie Wyatt.

  “Good morning, Oliver! Are you ready to go picnicking? The dogs are, that’s for sure!”

  “I’m ready. How far is the lake?”

  “An hour as the crow flies. You’ll like it there. It’s so peaceful. Just three cabins, and I didn’t rent them out this year, so we’ll have the place to ourselves. The kids have a canoe and two Jet Skis. The lake is just big enough to have some fun, and with no one on the water but us, we won’t have a problem. It’s very rustic, so don’t go expecting anything fancy. The kids used to love going there. I’m the only one who goes these days. I guess they outgrew it.”

  “Lakefront property is a luxury. How did you come by it?”

  “Long story. The short version is that shortly after I moved here, my neighbor, an elderly man who I cooked for, passed away. He had a son who wanted no part of Alabama in any way, so he sold it to me dirt cheap just to get rid of it. He really didn’t care about the financing, either; he just let me pay what I could afford. Actually, I only paid it off two years ago. I rent out the other two cabins from time to time, but for the most part, they stay empty because it’s way too rustic. When the kids were teenagers, we would go up there, take their friends, and have some wonderful times, cooking over campfires, that kind of thing. Have you ever been on a Jet Ski, Oliver?”

  “No, but you make it sound exciting, so I’m looking forward to it.”

  Hands on her hips, Julie turned to Mace and said, “Do you ever have fun?”

  Mace thought about the question. “No!” he said. Julie threw back her head and laughed until she had to hold her sides. Mace joined in as he ushered Lola into the back of the Blazer.

  “There’s no A/C in this truck. For some reason, I seem to have a mental block about getting it fixed, so we’re going to have to roll down the windows. That’s the bad news. The good news is it’s always at least ten degrees cooler at the lake.”

  Mace settled into the passenger seat of the truck, rolled down the windows, and leaned back after he buckled up. The dogs loved the breeze and chewed contentedly on their chew bones as the Blazer hit the interstate. Julie drove at sixty-five miles an hour, and in Mace’s estimation, she was an excellent driver.

  “Do you want to do a sing-along, Oliver? I used to do it with the kids when we would make the trip to the lake, to make the time go faster. Of course, the songs back then were kind of hokey compared to what they’re playing these days, which, by the way, just sounds like a bunch of noise to me. This young generation to me will always be a mystery. I’m a dyed-in-the-wool Sinatra fan. I like smooth and mellow.”

  “Let’s skip the sing-along,” Mace suggested, laughing. He was just loving every minute so far. He could hardly wait to get to the lake.

  It was seven o’clock, the sun starting to set, when the dogs piled into the back of the Blazer for the trip back. Julie shoved the empty picnic basket over to the side catchall that she said came with the Blazer when she’d bought it years and years ago. The dogs lay down and went to sleep, their hours of chasing and retrieving sticks all day, as well as frolicking in the cool lake water to cool off, now just memories to dream about.

  Exhausted, sunburned within an inch of his life, Mace realized that this day had been one of the happiest of his life. He stood looking around at the rough, rustic cabins, the last of the sun glinting off the lake, and the covered canoe and Jet Skis they’d anchored to a monster pine tree. He sniffed at the pine resin that was all around him. It reminded him of Christmas, for some reason. He said so.

  “We used to come up here and cut down our Christmas tree when we first moved down. The man I cooked for insisted. We might do it again this year, but I have to talk to the ki
ds about that. You are going to be one hurting ballplayer tomorrow, Oliver. Even with the sunblock, you got a good burn going there.”

  Mace sighed. “Believe it or not, it was worth it. I’d do it again, too. I had a wonderful day, Julie. I can’t thank you enough for thinking of this and taking me along. It’s a memory that will stay with me for a long time, maybe forever.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, Oliver. I had a great time myself. How many times did you fall off the Jet Ski?”

  “I lost count. And before you can say it, yes, I know tomorrow I will be stiff and sore for that long drive back to New York.”

  They made the rest of the trip home in silence, both busy with their own thoughts.

  The dogs woke the moment Julie pressed the code to the gate. “I’ll make you a poultice for that sunburn. You aren’t going to be able to sleep tonight.” Mace nodded. He knew that the minute he showered, he was going to be in a world of hurt. But he’d still do it all over again—though, next time, he’d wear a long-sleeved shirt. He thanked Julie again for a wonderful day.

  Inside, the dogs ran to their beds and lay down. Julie boiled some tea bags and eucalyptus leaves and let it steep after it came to a boil. While it cooled down, she took her own shower and threw on a sundress that showed off her glorious tan. She tied her wet hair into a bun on the top of her head, slipped her feet into sandals, and made her way back to the kitchen. She eyeballed the concoction she’d made and hoped it would work for Mace. She dumped it all into a jar and carried it across the yard, along with a bag of cotton balls and a tube of Lanacane.

  She was back home and in bed by ten. She locked up herself, not wanting to disturb Gracie or Coop, who were both out for the count.

  Julie was up the next morning at five and in the kitchen, the dogs outside. This was the last meal she would be cooking for Mace, and she wanted to make it special. Banana pecan pancakes—the pecans from her tree in the yard—her own homemade banana butter, crushed pecan syrup. Mace would love it. A side of scrambled eggs, some crisp bacon, freshly squeezed orange juice, and a gallon of coffee. She was so depressed, she didn’t think she’d be able to eat. And she still hadn’t gotten a response to the letter she’d sent to Virginia, something else to depress her.

  Was she really going to let Mace Carlisle, aka Oliver Goldfeld, leave and not tell him she knew who he really was? She’d started to tell him a dozen times but just couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud. She hated the lie she’d been living, just absolutely hated it.

  It wasn’t quite light out when Mace came in through the kitchen door. These days, he didn’t bother to knock. These days.

  Julie whirled around. “Ooooh, does it hurt?”

  “You have no idea how it hurts. That stuff you brought over did help. I look like a boiled lobster.”

  “You do. Maybe you should delay your departure a few days.”

  “I can’t, Julie, I have to be back on Monday.” He should have chartered a plane. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Mace asked Julie what she thought of the idea.

  “If you can afford it, why not?”

  “Is something wrong? You look out of sorts. You really didn’t have to make this magnificent breakfast this morning. My plan was to be up and out and on my way as soon as it got light out. Since this is Saturday, I’m thinking I won’t hit any rush-hour traffic on the way. I’m going to drive. It’s a good way to get all your thinking done at one time.”

  “There is that,” Julie said, picking at her pancakes. Mace wolfed his down and went for seconds.

  And then it was time to say good-bye. Julie fought the urge to cry, and she followed Mace and Lola out to the veranda, where Mace’s fancy car was parked. “At least you’ll have air-conditioning for the trip.” She handed over a bowl of dog food she’d made up for Lola and a container of ice cubes. “They’ll melt soon enough, and she likes cold water.”

  “Okay,” Mace said, shuffling his feet.

  “Have a safe trip. Drive with the angels, Mace Carlisle. My mother always used to say that.”

  “You know? And you never said anything? Why?” There was such total disbelief on Mace’s face, Julie laughed.

  “I was flipping the television channels before I went to bed the day you got here, and I saw you on the news. It was your business, not mine. I understood why, and I’m not upset. I’m just glad you are going to get your life back. It pleases me that I could help.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Mace mumbled.

  “I’ve always found it’s best that when I don’t know what to say, I don’t say anything. Everything happens for a reason, and ours is not to reason why. Does that work for you?” Julie asked lightly.

  “I want to hear you say out loud again that you aren’t upset with me.”

  Julie smiled. Mace almost blacked out when he saw the smile reflected in her eyes. He stepped forward, his intent to kiss her cheek and give her a hug, but Lola moved, his leg went farther than it should have, and he was a hair from her face. He did then what he’d wanted to do since setting eyes on Julie Wyatt. He kissed her. Long and hard, until neither one of them could breathe.

  Flustered, Julie said, “Oh, my! I . . . ah . . . I wasn’t expecting that. Do you want to do it again?”

  He did, so he did. Cooper howled. Gracie pawed the ground, then started to howl herself. Lola did her best to get into the act, but no one paid any attention. When the couple came up for air, the dogs howled in unison.

  “I think this is a sendoff to end all sendoffs,” Mace managed to say when he could get his tongue to work.

  “I’d say so,” Julie said, shock written all over her face. “I thought you were just going to kiss me on the cheek and say good-bye,” she finally managed to say. “Now we have this.”

  “Yes, now we have this. It was my intention to kiss you on the cheek and give you a hug. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, I’m glad it happened. What about you?”

  Still in a daze, Julie struggled to come up with something to say, and when she couldn’t, she just bobbed her head up and down.

  “I think I’ll leave now. I’ll call you this evening wherever I end up for the night. Will that be okay?”

  Julie’s head bobbed up and down again.

  “Okay, I’m going to leave now. We can shake hands if you want.”

  Julie finally found her voice. “Shake hands, is that what you said? Shake hands after you kissed me like that and almost sucked out my tonsils and swallowed the caps on my back molars. I-don’t-think-so!” One arm snaked out, and she grabbed Mace’s T-shirt in her fist and yanked him forward. She kissed him until his eyeballs rolled back in his head, and he almost fell over the veranda railing. When Julie finally relinquished her hold on the man in front of her, she said, “Now you can go! And, yes, you can call me this evening. Drive with the angels.” She turned and walked into the house, the dogs behind her. She slammed the door and locked it.

  “I’ll be damned,” was all Mace Carlisle could think of to say. Lola whimpered all the way down the steps and into the car. Mace whistled.

  “I’ll be double damned,” he said again, as the 543.1-horsepower engine turned over. He waved, even though he knew no one could see him. Then he shouted, “I’ll be back before you know it! That’s a promise!”

  Chapter 9

  Charles gave Myra a quick squeeze, then kissed her lightly. “Fly safe, call me when you land, and if you need me, just let me know. Any idea when you’ll be back?”

  Myra sighed. “We’re not sure, dear. My best answer right now would be we’ll be back when there’s nothing else for us to do for that poor lady. Can you handle that?”

  “I can. Don’t get into any trouble,” Charles teased lightly. He picked up Myra’s small suitcase and carried it out to Annie’s car. He popped it into the trunk, closed it, then leaned over to kiss Annie lightly on the cheek. He stepped back and waved until both his ladies were out of sight.

  “He handled that well.” Annie laughed.

>   “He did, didn’t he?” Myra smiled. “And how is dear Fergus this morning after his operation?”

  “Myra, you would not believe what a horrible patient he was and still is. You would have thought he was the only man in the world to ever have his appendix removed. He milked it for four days. He ran me ragged. I was ready to kick him all the way to Scotland. Men make the worst patients. It’s a good thing men can’t have babies. Civilization would have died out long ago if that were the case. Whatever. He’s on his own now. The doctor said he could go back to work tomorrow as long as he doesn’t do any lifting. I arranged for a driver to take him back and forth. Nellie said she would cook for him until we got back. Win-win.” Annie chortled happily.

  “A four-day delay is how I look at it, and, no, I am not complaining, Annie. Fergus needed you. I just wish he’d had his attack earlier. There we were at the airport, ready to board the plane, and—bingo!—you get the call that Fergus had been rushed to the hospital. Like I said, I’m not complaining; it’s just weird how that happened. But we both know everything happens for a reason. Four days is not that long a delay. I am worried about Julie Wyatt, though. Why do you think she didn’t call us back?”

  “I don’t know, Myra. Maybe she had second thoughts. Maybe she didn’t get our message. I wanted us to call her back again, but you said no, so I deferred to you. We’re going to have a beautiful day for flying. Should we start thinking about what we’ll do if Julie Wyatt has had a change of heart and doesn’t want our help? Do we just turn around and go home?”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Annie. In her letter, she said she had tried to get in touch with us a few years ago. Evidently, her situation is worse now than it was then, or she wouldn’t have contacted us a second time. I’m thinking some unseen force is at work here.”

  “Always the optimist,” Annie said as she blasted her horn to pass a sedan that was going too slow for her liking. “I love this time of day, when it’s just turning light outside. The beginning of a new day and the mystery that it will unfold. I love sundown, too, because at sundown we know what the mystery of the day was.”