Ella paused, then said, “Brad rescued Stormy Cloud. He’ll rescue Aunt Sophie, too.”
He grinned at the certainty in Ella’s voice.
Ella quickly followed with, “You and Matt stay there. I can let Brad in, right?”
The lock clicked and Brad yanked opened the steel gate. The main door swung open. Now he’d rescue Sophie. “Thanks, Ella.”
Ella clutched the wooden stair post in one hand and a cell phone in the other. “Did you make that banging stop, Brad?”
He wished. “You heard that, too?”
Ella nodded. “It wouldn’t stop. And Auntie never came back from the basement.”
“I need to get to the basement.”
Ella spun, keeping her hand on the banister. “I know the back stairs the best.”
Brad followed Ella up the double staircase to the third-floor apartment and down the hallway through the kitchen to the outside landing. “Ella, you should wait up here inside with the door locked.”
Ella shook her head, her mouth firm and the end of her braids whipping against her sweatshirt. “I need to check on my aunt.”
Brad wanted to insist she go back, but Ella’s pale cheeks indicated her fear, the quiver in her bottom lip indicated her concern. He touched her shoulder. “Tell you what. You wait right here, by the door, but outside so you can hear my shout. If it’s all clear, I’ll call for you.”
“And if it’s not?”
“You’ll hear me.”
She lifted her cell phone. “And I’ll call 9-1-1 and lock the door behind me.”
“Exactly.” He squeezed her shoulder and raced down the stairs.
Brad held tight to the rusted metal banister and pulled himself to a stop on the bottom step. Soapy water covered the entire basement floor. Sophie crawled through the suds, muttering to herself.
Brad’s legs wobbled as a wave hit, almost knocking him off balance.
He nudged the bat, bobbing in the water, with the toe of his work boot. She hadn’t been under attack. She’d been the attacker. And the bashed-up washing machine had been her victim. “Who won?”
Sophie glanced over her shoulder, but her hands continued swishing through the water. “I will, as soon as I find the drain.”
“Have you turned off the water?” He waded through the pond.
She paused long enough to scowl at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I said I’d come back this afternoon. Here I am.” Brad scooted the washer away from the wall and turned off the water valve. “Thought I’d be less of an intrusion if I installed the cameras after hours.”
“How did you get inside? Ella knows better.”
“There were texts with Matt. Code words with Ruthie and something about rescuing another litter of cats.” Brad sloshed through the water and strode up the stairs. “Be right back.”
He shouted all clear up to Ella. Her face peeked over the edge of the railing. “Should I come down?”
“The washing machine flooded the basement. Your aunt tried to fix it with her baseball bat.”
Ella covered her mouth with her hand, but not fast enough to hide her smile.
Sophie came to stand beside Brad. Water leaked from her shoes and pants, puddling around her. She called up to Ella. “We have to head to the Laundromat. We’ll be right up.”
Sophie dripped a path up the stairs and left her running shoes on the utility porch before entering the kitchen. Brad followed.
“You know what’s close to the Laundromat?” Ella asked.
Ella stood near the white cabinets lining one wall of a compact but quaint kitchen. Teapots from classical Victorian times, like the ones his mother stored in her china cabinet, to the modern glass-infused types to his personal favorites—the comical zoo animals—squatted in a glass-fronted cabinet, on the windowsill and on top of the refrigerator. Something about Sophie’s kitchen made Brad want to pull a red vinyl chair up to the round fifties-style diner table with curved chrome legs and pour himself a cup of hot tea. But he’d never liked tea before.
Sophie washed her hands at the sink. “I thought we’d planned to eat in tonight.”
Ella shook her head. “You don’t want to eat at our house, Brad.”
“Ella Marie.” Sophie picked up a giraffe teapot, removed the lid and tipped the pot over. Coins dumped out onto the counter.
Ella shrugged. “It’s true. We’re learning to cook.”
Sophie sorted through the change, setting the quarters aside. “I can cook.”
“Noodles and cheese from a box,” Ella said.
“Hey, no one can stir the noodles in boiling water quite like me.”
“We’re learning to cook together,” Ella said. “Real cooking, with recipes and measuring cups and oil. But we aren’t any good yet. You know what’s really good?”
“Ella, we eat there every week.” Sophie sorted through the change.
“Because it’s good. They have the best burgers and I don’t even need to try to read a menu there.” Ella pushed her glasses up her nose and rushed on. “You just tell them what you want and they make it. Brad will like it.”
Sophie’s fingers curled around a quarter. Brad watched Sophie close her eyes and inhale, not in the impatient, “irritated by her obnoxious kid so she’s trying to calm herself down” way. Rather, Sophie looked like she’d made a wish on the quarter and only needed that magic fountain to toss it into in order for her world to be all right again. Then one small, stiff shake of her head and she flicked the quarter on the pile as if she’d remembered magic didn’t exist. She resumed her search for more coins.
“But do they have milk shakes?” Brad asked.
“Of course,” Ella said. “So we’re going to City Suds, then Roadside Burgers with Brad.”
“I’m sure Brad has better things to do than wait for our clothes to dry.” Sophie tossed the smaller coins back inside the teapot and avoided looking at Brad.
“If that’s all I need to do to try the best burger in the city, then I’m in.” Brad rubbed his stomach. “We can talk about your new security system.”
“It’s one camera in the store.” Sophie looked at him, her gaze steady, but something in the way she clutched the giraffe against her ribs and the way she shifted from one foot to the other made him think she was nervous. Unsettled by more than her very wet socks.
Nice to know the feeling was mutual. He smiled at her. “You might want to change your clothes and find dry shoes. Walking to City Suds might get a little uncomfortable.”
“We aren’t walking all the way there.” Nothing nervous about the authority in her tone. The finality in her words.
Brad studied her, letting his confusion dip into his voice. “Why not?”
“I can walk there,” Ella said, her chin firm and her mouth set.
“The last time...” Sophie glanced between Brad and Ella.
“That was the last time,” Ella interrupted. “This is this time.”
“What’s different?” Sophie set the teapot on the shelf and reached for Ella’s hand.
“Brad is with us,” Ella said. “And Lady can come along. We just need to call Ruthie.”
“Lady is not a guide dog. You know that, right?” Sophie asked.
An edge of frustration settled into Sophie’s tone, but her touch remained gentle and her hold on Ella protective.
“She’s the closest thing I have until I’m older.” Ella leaned in toward her aunt. “And we talked. She wants to be my guide.” Ella gripped Sophie’s hand between both of hers. “Can’t we please try? That was last year before school started. It’s ancient history.”
Sophie hesitated and Brad saw the indecision in her gaze. Whatever had happened was clearly not ancient history for Ella’s aunt. Whatever had happened had left an impressio
n and Brad doubted it was a positive one.
“We’ll all get in a cab if it’s too crowded on the street.” Sophie looked to Brad.
He nodded. He wanted Sophie to know she had his support. He needed Sophie to know she had his support. Not that it should matter, but somehow it did. Very much.
“Yes, but only if it’s too crowded.” Ella bounced up on her toes and tossed her arms around her aunt. Her smile lifted in joy.
Brad couldn’t recall hugging anyone in his family with such pure freedom. Spontaneity. And ease. He’d been taught self-discipline as a child. There was nothing wrong with reserve and control. Still, as he watched Ella and Sophie, he struggled to repress the appeal of Sophie wrapping him up in a similar embrace.
Sophie leaned back and tucked a loose curl behind Ella’s ear. “Without arguing, Ella?”
Ella tipped her head, her lips pulling together before she countered, “You won’t drink my shake?”
“I’ll only have a sample,” Sophie said.
“Or five or six.” Ella lowered her voice and looked toward Brad. “She usually finishes the ice cream in the metal cup.”
“Fine. I won’t drink your shake.” Sophie pulled Ella closer.
Ella squeezed her aunt back. “Then I won’t argue about taking a cab.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
SOPHIE HELD OPEN the door to City Suds for Ella and Brad. He’d carried their laundry basket like a linebacker, ready to ram people out of Sophie and Ella’s path for the past ten blocks. She was grateful for the assistance so she could concentrate on guiding Ella. If he’d been with them last fall, she might not have been shoved around in an unexpected crowd spilling out of the neighborhood pub. She might not have tripped into the street and she might not have been separated from Ella. Sophie blamed her inattention and still struggled to forgive herself for the fear she’d caused Ella.
Thankfully, there had only been a small crowd of college students at the corner of Bayview and Gate Street outside the pub. The evening was still early for the twentysomething group and their awareness had yet to be clouded by too many tequila shots. And once they’d seen Brad barreling toward them, they’d scattered like leaves in a windstorm.
Sophie grinned, turned on the dryer and walked over to sit beside Brad. Ella lounged on Brad’s other side, her back against the wall and her legs stretched out across two seats toward Brad, earbuds in and her audiobook on Play. “Thanks for carrying our laundry all that way. We really can manage from here.” Sophie ran her palms over her jeans, not sure whether she wanted Brad to leave or stay.
“According to Ella, the best burger in the city is waiting for me after this.” Brad laughed. “I can’t leave now.”
Sophie relaxed into the chair, unable to deny that the thin plastic chair beside Brad was the most comfortable one she’d sat in all day. But surely her sudden contentment had nothing to do with the man next to her.
Brad leaned toward her, his shoulder touching hers. “So about your washer?”
His low voice teased her, and the brush of his shoulder awakened a new awareness. He smelled fresh and clean like he’d walked through a midnight rainstorm, reminding her of a hidden mountain lake, one of those places she’d always wanted to escape to. He made her want to escape with him. She didn’t want to discuss the washer now. She wanted to edge closer and pretend this was about more than a trip for hamburgers. But that was all wrong.
Escaping with Brad wasn’t an option. And this was only about a hamburger.
She shifted in the chair and edged away from Brad. She’d lost it in the basement. Not her finest moment, but she was allowed a private outburst, wasn’t she? She’d never expected to have a witness. “Its rinse cycle has been more soak than rinse recently. I should’ve replaced it a while ago.”
“Not your first basement flood?” He leaned toward her again.
Only her first basement appliance beating. “I fixed it with a new gasket and an internet how-to video last time.”
“And this time?”
His rough voice was part laughter and part understanding and too many parts temptation. “The bat seemed the most appropriate tool.”
Sophie jumped up and pretended to check the timer on the dryer. Something about Brad pulled her to him when she needed to pull herself away. He wasn’t part of her world. And the feelings he stirred inside her had no place in her life.
Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, breaking into her fascination with Brad. She glanced at the screen and accepted the call.
“Soda-Pop.”
Only one person called her that. “Dad.” Sophie stepped outside and leaned against the City Suds window. This was her world. “Where are you?”
“No need to worry about that now.” Her father’s smooth laughter swirled through the phone. “I’ve got a plan. A real good one, Soda-Pop.”
Her father had taken Sophie Diane and turned it into Soda-Pop while Sophie learned to crawl. At least she hadn’t been nicknamed Teapot. Tessa had been labeled with that one. Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. “Where are you?”
“It’s going to be fine, like I’ve always told you.”
Sophie ground her teeth together, willing herself to keep control.
“I haven’t failed you.” His voice was sincere, his words urgent, but he’d always talked in a rush. As if he feared slowing down might make Sophie doubt him or question him or refuse him.
Her father rambled on. “Remember when you wanted a bicycle for your birthday and I got you that skateboard to get you to school faster than any bike. Or when you needed a car and I brought you a motorcycle so you could always find parking. Or that time...”
“Dad, stop.” She didn’t have time to debate the appropriateness of his gifts. He’d only ever been trying to help her in his own misguided way. “Where are you? Where’s the money?”
“There’s no time to discuss all that now.”
“We have to discuss this. Now.” A shout crept into her throat. “You know what that money means.”
“You know I love you girls. This is for us. You know you can trust me. I’ll get your money back with an extra bonus.” His voice went from earnest to firm. “Now, listen.”
“Dad,” Sophie said, her voice one notch below a full screech. “You need to listen to me. Is that a train behind you?”
“Don’t worry about that.” Her father plowed over her. “If anyone comes to the store asking about me, you tell them you don’t know where I am.”
“I don’t know where you are.” Sophie plugged her other ear with her finger. “That sounds like bells and horns?”
“You let them know I’ll be in touch soon,” he said.
“Who is them?”
“Nobody important. I’ll make everything right, that’s a promise. That’s what good plans are for. Always have a good plan, Soda-Pop. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Dad...” Sophie tapped the cell phone against her forehead. He’d already hung up. Sophie stuffed her phone in her pocket and turned toward the door, her focus falling on Brad, dwarfing the flimsy plastic chair with his tall frame. Had Brad shown up at the shop looking for her father? He was in the security business. But what did that really mean?
Surely he’d have told her if he was after her father. Matt would definitely have told her. She yanked open the door. The wall of heat from the spinning dryers surrounded her and kindled her doubt about Brad. She knew nothing about investigators and how they worked. What could she offer him as a starting point? She couldn’t even guess her father’s location from the background noise during their phone call.
“Everything okay?” Brad asked.
“It’s fine.” Sophie cringed, feeling she sounded as false as her father. She sat beside Brad and stared at the blur of whirling clothes. Talking to her father always made her feel as if she’d been set o
n a rapid-spin cycle. She wished it was as easy to wring the truth from her father as it was to squeeze water from the towels. “So you own a security firm. You can install security systems. What else does your firm do?” Sophie blamed her father for her lack of tact. Clearly she hadn’t found her balance yet. “Do you provide bodyguards?”
“That’s my partner’s area,” he said. “I manage the investigations.”
Could her father be an investigation? Was that why he was stocking her dog food, installing her alarm and carrying her laundry? “What do you investigate?”
“Corporate and insurance fraud mostly.”
Corporate America wasn’t her father’s playground. “You must have many overseas corporate clients since you use Matt to translate a lot.”
“It isn’t all fraud.” He grinned. “Sometimes it gets a little more complicated.”
“I suppose those are the cases you prefer and the ones you can’t talk about,” she said. “So if my kitten abandoner was a money-laundering arms dealer, then you’d step in and bring him to justice?”
“Maybe,” he said. “But it’s usually a little less Hollywood and a lot more mundane than that.”
But much bigger than her careless father. Her father had taught her not to trust as a child, and she prided herself on being more open and less closed off as an adult. Until one phone call from her father had made her suspicious of everyone, including herself. One phone call had made her doubt that decency existed.
Brad had rescued a litter of abandoned kittens, offered to fix her security camera for dog food and was a mayor’s son. The son of Mayor Nancy Harrington who had campaigned with her greyhounds. Sophie should have thought of that sooner. Something close to hope swirled through her and she shifted in her chair to face Brad. Maybe Brad was an answer to her problems, not another problem. But if he was using her for information on her father, then she wouldn’t feel the least guilty about her next move. After all, George Callahan had lectured his young daughters that turnabout was fair play, never mind any moral objection. “Can I ask you a favor?”
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