Cherry Blossom Capers

by Gina Conroy

  Samantha prayed that her first encounter with her boss wouldn’t be her last, but two years earlier, God didn’t intervene.

  Why would He now?

  “Watch out!” Her warning came late as Alex crashed into a dark-headed man in a navy uniform. God’s answer to prayer wasn’t a surprise. The God she knew remained distant, often turning up the heat when all she wanted was to escape the fire.

  Something thumped against Nick Porter’s hip. His drink blew its top, spilling Coke on his security uniform as he dropped his sack. His double cheeseburger and fries tumbled out. “Hey, watch it!”

  The kid who’d plowed into him jumped back.

  Two weeks on the job and he’d made a mess of things.

  A petite brunette in khaki shorts scurried to his mangled meal. She stuffed it back in the sack, hunching as she offered it. “So sorry.”

  Nick’s stomach growled. Just what he wanted. A side of dirt with his burger.

  She nudged the freckle-faced kid forward.

  The boy resisted. Nick’s frown softened. So much like—

  She sighed. “My son is sorry, Officer.”

  “It’s Nick Porter, and I’m just security.” Security. He hated the sound of it.

  “What happened to the Mount Vernon police?”

  “One of many cutbacks.”

  She wrote on a business card and handed it to him. Samantha Steele.

  “Send me the dry-cleaning bill.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  The blond girl waved her brochure. “This says there’s no food allowed except in the designated eating areas.”

  “This one yours, too?” He pointed to the cherub-faced girl. “Charming kids, Mrs. Steele.” He couldn’t hide his sarcasm, the one emotion that remained.

  “It’s Ms. Steele. My husband died two years ago.”

  Nick spotted Samantha’s naked ring finger. Stupid. As a cop, he never missed a detail. “Sorry.” He paused. “I lost my wife, too.” Why was he confessing to a stranger?

  Her eyes sympathized as if she understood his pain.

  Impossible.

  The kid dug into his pocket. “Here.” Tiny fingers tickled Nick’s palm as the boy released the coins. “I’m really sorry, mister.” The boy’s hazel eyes pierced Nick’s soul.

  Nick fought the stirring as memories surfaced. A heaviness descended as they walked away. He should’ve thanked the kid, or at least refused his money. If he could rewind the last few moments, he would. But God didn’t give second chances.

  If He did, they certainly weren’t free.

  Gripping Alex’s hand, Samantha plodded toward the mansion to catch the tour before her orientation. She inhaled the magnolia breeze, her nerves calming. Something about that security guard unsettled her. Sure, he had Cary Grant looks, but minus the cleft chin and charm he was nothing to swoon over. Besides, she wouldn’t play anyone’s leading lady again. Oh boy. Classic-movie night with her town house neighbors at Cherry Blossom Estates was getting to her.

  The three of them followed the tour into the large mint-green dining room. Samantha admired the intricate white agricultural moldings and crystal dinnerware as the African-American docent dressed in period attire shared the history.

  Alex looked up. “This ceiling is huge.”

  “They’re double the size of ceilings at the time.” Samantha studied the detailed carving. “Washington was a great innovator.”

  “They had elevators?” Alex whipped his head around. “Can I ride?”

  Callie rolled her eyes. “An innovator, not elevator.”

  “May I have your attention?” The guide adjusted her head scarf. “Please don’t touch anything.” Her plump figure squeezed through the crowd.

  “When my younguns misbehave, I take a switch to them.” The woman’s words grew thick as biscuit gravy. “Can’t have them disrespecting the president now, could I?”

  Samantha withdrew from the woman. But Alex pointed to her name tag. Althea Washington. “Are you related to George Washington?”

  “She can’t be related; she’s a slave, bozo.” Callie elbowed Alex.

  Samantha’s face flushed. “She’s only playing a slave.”

  “Next time I sees Masta Washington, I’ll introduce you so you can ask him yourself.” Althea returned to the front. “We’ll pass through the little parlor with the harpsichord President Washington bought for his stepdaughter, Nelly Custis.” Her Southern accent morphed to normal. She glared at Alex. “Please, keep your hands to yourself.”

  Something seemed off about Ms. Washington’s role playing. “Stay close and act civilized.” Wouldn’t want to upset her if she had some screws loose underneath that head scarf.

  Walking through the little parlor, Samantha squeezed Alex’s hand. Once inside the central passage, her grip relaxed. Marveling at the beautiful mahogany-grained walls, she imagined Washington entertaining guests with doors open as a summer breeze cooled the house.

  Callie walked into the front parlor. Samantha followed, her arms swinging, carefree and—empty. Alex?

  When did she let go? She spun. Surveyed the entryway. No Alex.

  “Where’s your brother?”

  Callie shrugged.

  “Stay with the group.” Samantha hurried across the hall into the small dining room. Footsteps echoed. She peeked out, her heart beating a warning.

  Just her luck Nick Porter’d be patrolling the mansion while Alex went AWOL.

  Samantha waited until Nick disappeared; then she jogged up the staircase and surveyed the second floor. The sign on the first door said Closed for Renovations. She checked the other rooms. All empty.

  A door slammed. She turned. Alex scurried from the first room.

  “Alex!” she whispered, following him downstairs and through the bedchamber. The study door closed. She raced in and gasped.

  Perched on Washington’s chair, Alex reached toward the terrestrial globe.

  “Stop!” She reached for him, holding her breath as if a tiny wind would send him falling onto the antique.

  He froze.

  She lowered her voice. “I’m not mad.” Yet. “Climb down.”

  Alex eyed the globe, then jumped off and shuffled toward her like Sylvester with a mouthful of Tweety.

  Heat exploded inside her. “Do I need to buy a leash?”

  For the past two years she’d dealt with Alex’s unpredictable behavior. She understood he missed his father, so she’d been patient. “Let’s find Callie.”

  Swinging around for the door, she slammed into a human wall. Her purse fell. Nick Porter retrieved it as she scrambled after her lipstick.

  “Ma’am, you shouldn’t be in here.” He reached to help her up.

  Their eyes met. “You?”

  “Sorry, we’re leaving.” But before Samantha grabbed Alex’s hand, he raced toward the presidential chair.

  Climbed.

  Reached.

  Touched.

  “Don’t!” Nick ran to him.

  The globe went whirling.

  Samantha gasped as the globe’s stand wobbled, her world teetering on the edge of destruction. She fought to breathe as she reached for the antique. It was too late. Like dominoes the globe toppled, knocking against the table by the window, which sent the brass telescope on top catapulting to the ground.

  Nick snatched the telescope pieces from Samantha’s hands. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to see the antique was beyond repair.

  He set the globe upright, examining it and the table that broke the globe’s fall. No scratches or nicks. Now he got his miracle?

  “Sorry, Mommy. Are they still gonna let you work here?”

  Nick stared at Samantha. “What’d he say?”

  “I—I’m doing an archaeology internship. This summer.”

  This wasn’t the last he’d see of her and Captain Chaos? “I’ll have to report this.”

  “Wait. Maybe it can be fixed.”

  As the kid crawled under the desk, remnants of Nick’s paternal
heart wanted to comfort the boy. “You’d better come out.” Had he remembered to soften his tone?

  The kid scooted from under the desk. Samantha stroked his hair. “I’ll make everything okay.” She took the eyepiece and barrel from him, tried to fit them together.

  “What am I thinking? This isn’t a flea market item I can fix with glue. It’s Washington’s original brass telescope. It survived over two hundred years and millions of tourists, but it couldn’t survive my son.” Tears welled.

  Nick shifted his weight, wishing she’d dam that river. He wasn’t heartless; he just never knew how to handle women’s emotions. “I’m calling this in now.”

  “Isn’t there something we can do?” Her eyes locked on his like a deer caught in his headlights. He rushed to close the doors on either end of the room. He was insane to risk his job to help this stranger, no matter how much she needed rescuing.

  There was something about her… needing him. Voices echoed outside the door. “Stay here.”

  “My daughter—I need to get her.”

  “She’ll be fine.” Nick stepped out. “Room’s closed.” He shut the door.

  “Did you see Callie?”

  “She’s fine.” His gut knotted. “She won’t try a stunt like young Knievel here or turn George’s bed into a trampoline, right?”

  Color pinched Samantha’s cheeks. “Callie would never—just because Alex is curious and clumsy doesn’t make me a terrible mom.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” She crossed her arms.

  He shook his head. “We’ll stay put until the tour is finished. Then you’ll find Callie, and we’ll figure this out together.” Together? He definitely needed his head examined. “They have insurance. I’m sure they’ll understand when we explain.” He took the eyepiece and barrel from her.

  Samantha gripped Nick’s arm. “There has to be another way.”

  An unexpected longing panged. He couldn’t abandon her now.

  With a sigh, he worked the eyepiece into the barrel and sighted toward the Potomac. What? He looked again, his pulse accelerating. A hearty laugh erupted.

  “My life’s falling apart, and you’re laughing?” Samantha’s nostrils flared.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Then what’s so funny?”

  “The telescope is a fake.”

  Chapter 2

  A fake? You’re kidding!” Samantha’s face lit as she stumbled backward. Nick reached out, pulling her close. The green flecks in her eyes danced to the erratic rhythm in his heart. He released his grip. “I’m not positive until it’s examined.” He handed Samantha the pieces. “I think the telescope is designed for longer distances like gazing across the solar system, not the Potomac.”

  Samantha stared through it. “That’s odd. The website said it was original.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. There’s no reason to worry.”

  Nick should’ve been elated, but his cop-gut churned. “What if someone lifted the original?” “What?”

  Nick tensed. She didn’t have to say it. Samantha thought he was one bullet short of a magazine. He paced. Maybe he was paranoid, but what if smuggling had crept onto Mount Vernon? “We know the telescope isn’t original. That means it’s either a replica or forgery, and I discovered it.”

  Samantha stared, hands on her hips. “My son broke the telescope.”

  “Okay, we discovered it. Now let me take care of things.”

  Buried insecurities resurrected from a lifetime of letting others take care of things. Hadn’t she proven her independence by now? Obviously not if she was begging this stranger for help.

  “You okay?” The pity-filled look on Nick’s face ate her confidence.

  How could she convince the male-dominated archaeology community that she deserved their respect?

  She needed the telescope to be a forgery to save her internship and earn a position at Mount Vernon, but she needed to find the forger to prove herself.

  “I’m fine, and I’m going to help you catch the forger.”

  Nick glared. “Art forgery is dangerous. The guys involved aren’t pulling a prank. They’re in it for big money.”

  “How do you know?”

  Nick shifted. “I served twelve years as a detective.”

  Then why play security guard?

  Nick shook his head at the kid who’d unlaced his sneakers and was tying the shoelaces in knots. At least he sat quietly. No telling how long the poster child for ADHD would stay occupied. “Shouldn’t you take your kids home?”

  Samantha sighed. “My orientation’s today.”

  “You brought your kids?”

  “My babysitter got sick. And after this, I can’t let Alex near the dig.”

  “Smart girl.”

  “You’re not helping.” She glanced at her son. “I can’t jeopardize this internship.”

  “Wish I had the answer. I’m still working on the telescope fiasco.”

  Her mouth twisted, then slowly curved into a grin. “You could watch my children while I talk to my boss.”

  Nick retreated, hands high. “I’m not good with kids.” Couldn’t even protect his own.

  “It’d only take a few minutes. I’ll be close by.”

  Darn, those doe eyes! “Fine. First I’ll take the telescope to the lab; then I’ll babysit.”

  Why was he attracted to such a fireball? He had no business dreaming about what could never be. He had one shot at love.

  Had a scar in his gut to prove it.

  Confusion flooded Nick as he walked past the employee parking lot and loading dock to the metal warehouse. What possessed him to agree to babysit Samantha’s kids? Insanity. That was what he’d plead. After he made good on his promise to watch her kids, he’d figure a way to avoid Samantha.

  Nick entered the archaeology lab, holding the sack with the telescope that could either end his job or promote him to head of security. Carole Huntington emerged from her office clutching a Pepcid AC bottle.

  “Don’t ever get old.” Her voice rasped from a four-decade, two-pack-a-day habit. She kissed Nick on the cheek. “To what do I owe this visit?”

  Carole set down the bottle and leaned against the worktable.

  “I need information, and a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “Is the telescope in Washington’s study original?”

  “Absolutely. Washington owned at least a dozen spyglasses. That one’s the only original tripod we have. It’s priceless.”

  “You’re positive it’s not a replica?”

  “I hope you’re asking because you’re a dedicated employee, but something tells me that’s not the case.”

  “Can’t fool the police chief’s woman.” He winked.

  “Ex-chief. Stop flirting and show me what’s in the bag.”

  Nick slipped on latex gloves and removed the pieces.

  The wrinkles in her face deepened. “Tell me this isn’t the telescope.”

  “Wish I could.” Nick handed her gloves, then the telescope. “Tell me what you see.”

  She examined every inch. “If this isn’t the original, where is it?”

  Nick watched Carole’s pursed lips tighten as he explained the accident. “You can’t report this until I investigate.”

  “They’re bound to notice it’s missing.”

  “I’ll file a report today, omitting the suspected forgery.”

  “And the lady and her boy?”

  “How’d you—“

  “Always the protector.”

  “They’ll eventually learn the truth, but if I break this case, I hope they’ll credit Samantha with doing them a favor.”

  “I don’t feel right about this.” Carole folded her arms. “The last time I kept your secret—“

  “That was different.” Nick’s gut ignited. “You don’t think I can handle it. That I’m still using.”

  “No, I believe you.”

  “Then what?”

  She hesi
tated. “You shouldn’t get involved. Leave it to the police.”

  How could she say that? Did she forget he had worked beside her husband, Dale, for over a decade? That she saw him through the darkest days of his life?

  Of course she didn’t forget. That was why she didn’t want him to interfere. Nick retreated. “You’re right. I should stay out of this. Someone could get hurt.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I’ll stop in later to lift prints.” He shook his head. “It’d be a miracle if there were any decent ones left.”

  “Once you believed in miracles.”

  Memories squeezed the air from Nick’s lungs.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Carole grasped his hands. “Stop punishing yourself.”

  Maybe he didn’t kill his wife and son, but his attempt to protect them failed. Probably caused their death.

  The room shrank as he gasped for breath. He needed out—fast. Nick whipped around and bumped into a lanky man in a dark suit.

  “Pardon me.” The guy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  “Nicky, wait.” Carole coughed.

  He didn’t turn back. Carole Huntington was great at restoring relics. Too bad she couldn’t fix his broken soul.

  Samantha drank in the floral canvas of the upper garden, her apprehension easing as she walked toward the dig. Alex had begged to stay at the Museum and Education Center, and Nick didn’t object. Worrying was silly. They were safe with a security guard. Besides, how much trouble could they get into at a hands-on museum?

  Now she could focus on the telescope. If there was a forger, and if she found him, Alex’s mayhem at the mansion might be her good fortune. Before she could savor the thought, Alex charged past her toward the archaeology pit. Samantha’s heart lurched. She scanned the area. Callie charged after Alex. Where was Nick?

  Samantha ran after them. Why’d she think God would give her a break? The testing of her faith produced perseverance, right? God obviously wasn’t finished with her, though she felt way past well done. More like extra-crispy with all life’s joy burned off.

  Alex’s arms flailed. Samantha braced for his crash landing, but the archaeologist in a cowboy hat grabbed Alex before he dove into the pit.