by Colleen Coble, Kristin Billerbeck, Denise Hunter, Diann Hunt
Sophia nodded. “We always eat ice cream at night when we read.”
“Ice cream is good for any time of day,” Tess said. “I think your daddy should hire us to be official ice cream tasters so we can tell him the best flavors to make.”
“It has to be chocolate,” Sophia said. “Anything with chocolate.”
“Like maybe chocolate and avocado?”
Sophia wrinkled her nose. “Avocado is for salad.”
“What about chocolate and bacon? Or chocolate and chicken?” Tess asked.
“You’re being silly,” Sophia said reprovingly.
Tess and Ryan both burst out laughing. Warmth spread through her as they sat together almost like a family. Did he feel it too or was it all her imagination?
“I bet you could read this story yourself,” Ryan told his daughter.
Sophia folded her hands across her chest. “I like to listen to Tess.”
“So do I,” Ryan said.
“Well, I’d better read then,” Tess said, turning to the first page of the story.
She plunged into the story and put as much animation and emotion into her reading as possible, though having Ryan watch her was a little disconcerting. By the time the story was over, Sophia’s head was against her daddy’s arm and her eyes were closed. When Tess closed the book, she wasn’t sure what to say. The silence should have been uncomfortable but was more companionable than she’d expected.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I suppose I should be going. Thank you for letting me rummage around in the attic.”
“When do you want to come back? There’s a lot we haven’t seen.”
His eagerness to have her back was a desire to get the attic organized, she told herself. It had nothing to do with any desire for a friendship with her. “Tuesday after work?”
“Sounds good to me. How about I provide dinner this time?”
His smile put crinkles around his green eyes. Those eyes. She could dive deep into them and search for the meaning. Men shouldn’t look that good. If she dared, she would lean over and sniff the spicy scent of his cologne. He would smell as good as he looked, no question.
She rose and picked up the cookie tin he’d given her. “You really didn’t like that casserole, did you? Come on ’fess up.”
“Okay, I admit Mexican isn’t my favorite.”
“Why didn’t you say something when I told you what I was bringing?”
“And turn down the only offer of a home-cooked meal I’d had in years? Not happening.” He eased Sophia onto the sofa, then stood to walk her to the door. “I enjoyed the day, Tess.”
They reached the front door and she put her hand on the doorknob. “So did I.” She felt oddly breathless. She pulled open the door and stepped into the fading light of a gorgeous late May day. “Thanks again for the tin.”
“Call me later and let me know if you find out anything about it. I’m curious to know how the Hutchinses got it.” He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a business card case. “Here’s my phone number. My cell too. Call anytime.”
She took the card he held out. “You’re sure?”
“You bet. I want to help you get to the bottom of the mystery. I’m intrigued too.”
Of course, it was all about the mystery. Who wouldn’t be enthralled with something this strange?
CHAPTER FOUR
Her sisters’ cars were parked in front of the big Victorian house, but Grandma Rose’s big old Caddy was conspicuously absent. Tess had thought they would all be gone by now, with Sunday dinner finished and the mess cleaned up. She found her mother and sisters in the sunroom having coffee and cookies—chocolate chip, her favorite. She set the tin on the table and scooped up a cookie. It was still warm, and she savored the melted chocolate on her tongue. Well, as much as she could, with her mother’s disapproving stare.
Tess had always loved this room with its soft yellows and comfortable furniture. “Where’s Grandma?”
“She stepped out to pick up Aunt Violet. Her car quit on her downtown.” Her mother frowned when Tess reached for another cookie.
Zoe lifted a brow. “Dish! We want the entire scoop. Did he ask you out?”
Tess poured herself a cup of coffee and laced it with cream. “Of course not! I was only there to go through the attic.” She reached for the tin. “Look what I found there.” She held up the tin where it caught the soft afternoon light.
Clare gasped and touched the tin’s embossed figure. “It’s darling! But why did you bring it?”
“That’s the funny thing.” Tess told them where she’d found the tin. “Grandma said David called her his Betty Boop. I wanted to ask her if she took cookies to him. I bet she did, and he kept this as a memento.”
Tess set the tin back on the table. “I want to talk to you all before Grandma gets back. How do we find out if this was something she gave David? Just ask her? I’m afraid it might upset her.”
“I can tell you.” Anna rose and walked to the small woodstove on the west wall. “It’s your grandmother’s.”
“How do you know, Mom?” Zoe asked.
“She had a collection of Betty Boop tins. This one was her favorite. She showed me a picture of it. I asked her what happened to it, and she told me she gave it to a friend.”
“I know where Grandma keeps the photo albums,” Zoe said.
Their mother shook her head. Her lips were pressed together. “Why are you girls persisting in prying into things that don’t concern you?”
Zoe sprang to her feet. “I don’t understand why you think Grandma wouldn’t care to know the truth.”
Clare reached out and grabbed Zoe’s hand. She tugged her back onto the sofa. “Let’s keep our voices down and discuss this calmly. Mom, wouldn’t you want to know if the past was very different from what you’d always thought?”
Anna hesitated. “If it were something good, maybe. But this can only cause heartache. What difference does it make now? Mother married someone else.”
“You saw her reaction to his name,” Tess said. “I thought she was going to faint. She had very strong feelings for him, and still does. She deserves to know what happened to him. And how did those dog tags get here? It’s very puzzling.”
“I just don’t understand why it matters.”
Clare was staring at their mother with a thoughtful expression. “You seem to be taking our interest very personally. Does this threaten you somehow, Mom?”
Anna flushed and turned to stare out the window at the maple trees waving in the wind. “I loved my father. I guess I just wouldn’t want anything to sully his name.”
“This isn’t about Grandpa, Mom,” Zoe burst out. “We just want Grandma to know the truth.”
Tess patted her youngest sister’s hand. “Take it easy, Zoe,” she whispered to her. Her mother looked so alone, her shoulders rounded defensively. “I understand, Mom. But I don’t think we’ll find out anything that will be a detriment to Grandpa. You know Grandma loved him very much. And I promise we’ll be discreet.”
When her mother turned to face them, tears glimmered in her eyes. “I still don’t approve, but you girls are going ahead with it anyway. I can see it on your faces.”
“We’ll talk to you before we tell Grandma anything, okay?” Clare said, her tone placating.
Zoe frowned and opened her mouth, then closed it again when Tess clamped her hand tighter. “I don’t know that we’re going to find out anything earth-shattering.”
A door slammed and she heard voices. “I think Grandma is back with the aunts.” She grabbed the tin and stuck it behind the sofa.
Grandma Rose’s two sisters were with her when she joined them in the sunroom. The three were so unalike. Grandma was tall and slim with silver hair and glowing skin that looked younger than her age. She dressed in elegant sweater sets atop modest skirts or pants. She was so sweet, with a servant’s heart.
When it came to clothing, Aunt Violet seemed to think the louder, the better. In fact, Tess had always pri
vately wondered if Aunt Violet was colorblind. The outfits she wore never went together. And had no one ever told her that women her age should maybe tone down the hair a bit? You could see Aunt Violet’s red hair coming from five hundred yards away.
Aunt Petunia was the oldest of the three but still spry. She was tiny compared to the other women, and she never went out without her favorite earrings, a pair of dangling rhinestones that her husband had bought her in the sixties. Her clothes were all high quality, but they’d been purchased years ago and were a mishmash of styles that she somehow managed to carry off.
Tess rose and hugged each of them. “The cookies are great, Grandma.”
“I made them just for you, honey,” her grandmother said. “You all look so sober. Is something wrong?”
“Nothing at all. We were just waiting for you.”
“Your slippers, your highness.” Ryan bowed on one knee in front of his daughter. He’d had a hard time getting the pink princess slippers to balance on the pillow on his knee.
Sophia giggled. “I need help getting them on.”
“I shall be honored to assist you.” He took one of the slippers and started to slide it onto his daughter’s small foot. The doorbell rang. “I’ll be right back.”
He glanced at his watch as he went to the door. Seven. His pulse skipped when he saw Tess on the porch. Her mouth gaped when she saw him, and he remembered the tiara and netting on his head. The combs holding it in place gripped his thick hair, but he finally managed to wrest it from his head and tossed it to the table in the entry.
“Uh, hi. We were playing princess.”
Tess caught her lower lip between perfect white teeth, but a smile lurked at the corners and her eyes sparkled. “I thought I’d misjudged the day and it was Halloween.”
“If you tell a soul what you saw today, I’ll put mint in your ice cream,” he warned.
Her eyes widened. “How’d you know I hate mint?”
Drat, he’d betrayed himself. “You curled your nose up when I offered to let you try my coconut mint concoction. And coconut is your favorite.” He was standing there like some kind of starstruck goof. “Come in. I didn’t mean to leave you standing outside.”
“It’s a beautiful night.” She stepped into the foyer. “I tried your phone but just got voice mail. I was driving by and thought I’d pop in for a minute and tell you what I found out. I hope I’m not interrupting something—important.” She slanted a definite smirk his direction.
He grinned. “You’re about to get that mint in your ice cream, princess.”
“I’m the princess, Daddy,” Sophia said, suddenly appearing at his leg.
“Quite right,” Tess said. “You’re the perfect princess. I love your dress.”
Sophia smoothed the pale blue satin. “Daddy bought it for me at Disney World.”
“And you got his tiara there too?”
Sophia nodded. “It matches mine but it’s bigger. ’Cause Daddy’s bigger.”
The snort that came from Tess’s pretty face was definitely not ladylike. He could tell she was doing her best not to laugh from the way she clutched the bag in her hand as well as the contorted expression on her face. Every bit of dignity he thought he possessed was now gone. And he discovered he didn’t mind when those blue eyes were looking him over with a hint of mischief in them.
“I brought back your tin,” she said, holding the bag out.
“I told you that you could keep it.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t feel right about it. I’m sure it’s valuable.”
The night air, redolent with the scent of freshly cut grass and roses, drifted in the open doorway. A car rolled past, the thump-thump of the speakers’ woofers proclaiming the occupant to be a teenager. He reached past her and shut out the world. For a few minutes he was going to have her all to himself.
“Want a milk shake? I was going to make some anyway.” His fingers closed around the strings on the bag. Maybe she didn’t want to be beholden to him. As far as he knew, she might even be involved with someone. The thought made his gut clench.
“Chocolate?”
“What else, with a girl in the house?” He grinned and took Sophia’s hand. “Want to help me make some milk shakes, honey?”
“Can I spray on the whipped cream?” Sophia asked.
“You bet.”
Tess followed them. “My kind of milk shake.”
He dropped the bag on the sofa as they went past. “The kitchen is a little messy. I never cleaned up after dinner.” Spaghetti had splattered on the six-burner stove, and dishes were heaped in the sink.
Tess glanced around. “At least it looks lived in. I was beginning to worry that you had a neatness issue.”
“You have something against being neat?”
“It’s a sign of a sick mind.”
He grinned. “Hey, I resemble that remark.”
The blender sat to the right of the stove. He pulled it forward. “Want to get the ice cream out of the freezer?”
“I’ll get the cream,” Sophia said. She pulled hard on the refrigerator door and retrieved the heavy cream he’d brought home from the creamery. “Can I pour it in the little pitcher?”
“If you’re careful.” He felt Tess’s presence behind him before her arm brushed his. “Got the ice cream?” The question was more casual than the way he felt—every nerve at attention.
“I’ve got chocolate and vanilla. I wasn’t sure how you were making it.”
“Yours will be as chocolaty as it can get.” He loaded the blender with chocolate ice cream and added more syrup and cream, then hit the button. The whir that shattered the quiet of the kitchen also added a sense of normalcy. For a minute there, he’d been thinking there was something momentous about the three of them making milk shakes together.
He poured the first milk shake into a frosted glass. When he glanced Tess’s way, he found her scrubbing tomato sauce off the stove. He started to tell her not to do that but was caught by the expression on her face—pure joy and focus. A flush highlighted her cheeks, and she looked so darn cute that all he could do was watch.
“Daddy, you’re spilling my milk shake!”
He looked down to see the dark liquid overflowing the glass and running down onto the counter. His face burned as he grabbed a paper towel.
The last thing he wanted to do was look ridiculous in Tess’s eyes.
CHAPTER FIVE
Fireside Books sat at the corner of Lookaway Lane and Main Street, right beside the nineteenth-century firehouse. It had occupied the same Victorian storefront for seventy-five years. Every time Tess stepped onto the wide, uneven floorboards and inhaled the good scent of books, she felt revitalized. Today was her late day because it was story hour time. She maneuvered her upturned clown shoes past the boxes of new stock in the mystery section.
Her employee, Flo Garret, lifted a brow in her direction. Flo was in her fifties and had come to work at the bookstore after her husband died. She was soft and round and appeared to be all fluff and nervous energy, but underneath she had a deep caring for people and a quick mind. Her curly hair was wild today with the humidity, and she wore jeans with a red jacket and pearls.
“I’m reading If I Ran the Circus,” Tess explained. “You know how the children love it when I dress up to match the story.” The clown outfit was a bit too big and sagged in the rear end. The pant legs dragged on the floor as well, but it had been the only thing she could find at the costume shop in Burlington.
“I wondered if I could take off early tonight,” Flo said. “I have the town meeting.”
“Sure, I can close for you tonight. Is it about the train?”
“Yes. We’re going to discuss all the reasons we can give that make Smitten a good fit for a stop on RailAmerica.” Flo’s hazel eyes glowed. “Think of all the tourism it would bring in.”
Tess nodded. “We need that train! It would bring in so much business too, and you know how we’re struggling to make ends meet.”
She would do whatever she had to in order to save the bookstore. It was unthinkable that it would ever close. The place was an icon, a spot for villagers to gather and discuss politics, culture, and good books. And what would she do? She’d worked here since she was sixteen and had saved every nickel until she was able to buy it when the owner moved to New York. It was more than a business to her. It was the one place she belonged, the one place where she fit.
“What can I do to help convince the train executives? Any idea when we’ll know?”
Flo’s curls bounced as she nodded her head. “It’s going to take awhile.” She studied Tess’s face. “I keep your books, Tess. I know you’re barely taking enough of a salary to keep yourself afloat. I want this as much for you as I do for the town. I’ll do my best. We can both pray.”
“I will.” Troubled, Tess walked to the back of the store to her lovely children’s book section.
“Miss Tess!” Sophia ran to her and hugged her leg. “You look funny. Your shoes are too big.”
“Clowns are supposed to look funny.” Tess glanced around for Ryan and found him laughing, so she looked away.
Maybe she did look ridiculous. Candace wouldn’t have allowed herself to look so frumpy. The warm sensation that still lingered from yesterday’s time with him vanished. Stupid to allow herself to have an ounce of hope that he might look at her with interest.
A group of ten children had assembled on the colorful interlocking mat in the children’s area. She had them sit in a circle while she read the story. The kids gasped at the appropriate times and laughed at the right places too. Tess got into the story, acting out parts. Let Ryan snicker. What difference did it make? This was who she was.
When story hour was over, the children drifted off with their parents. But Ryan stayed with Sophia on the mat. Tess pulled off her clown nose and hat. “I need to wash my face,” she told Ryan. “It’s itchy.”
His gaze roamed over her face. “I think you’re reacting to that makeup. Looks like you have a rash.”