“Scared you? Oh, you mean like you’re scared about how you feel about him.”
Tasha gasped and nearly hit the brakes. “What are you talking about? Wait. Don’t answer that.” She shook her mane of curls. “You don’t know this about me, but not too long ago I was planning my wedding. When my fiancé couldn’t go through with it, I made the move here. I can’t say this strongly enough: I am not interested in a relationship with Marc Shepherd—or anyone. Honestly, I’m surprised that we seem to have come to a place of friendship at all.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but I must say, that’s a lot of words you just laid out right there.”
“And I meant all of them. I’m still having to come to terms with the fact that the unbuildable and empty lot next to my quiet oasis is actually about to morph into a mansion by the sea.”
“Have you actually seen Marc’s plans?”
“I haven’t studied them, no.”
“Maybe you’ll be pleased then. You have to admit, he’s a very nice man.”
She wouldn’t say this out loud, especially to Lorena, but he had surprised her by his kindness. He’d knocked on her door this morning, discouraged and confused, wondering what she might know about the disaster on his property. She watched his emotions go from frustration to worry when he learned of Lorena’s injury. And then ... he apologized. And it floored her.
Finally, Tasha nodded. “Okay, yes. His personality has made it easier to take the disruption to my, um, dream.”
Lorena gave her a kind smile. “I had a feeling you were running from something.”
Tasha kept her eyes on the road. She swallowed back building emotion. You can’t run from something that you never had. “Yes, well, I try to keep these things to myself. So if you wouldn’t mind ...”
Lorena pantomimed zipping her lips shut.
Tasha flicked a glance out the window to a tiny log cabin flanked by ghost-like alder trees, parts of their white-gray bark covered in lichen and moss. Empty golden pots lined the porch steps as if waiting for a yearly planting of poinsettias to welcome the upcoming holidays.
“You can just pull her into the driveway,” Lorena said. “Thank you again for schlepping me home, dearie.”
Tasha smiled, her brows pulled together. “It’s you who needs all the thanks. I know you don’t want anymore apolog—”
“And I was serious about that!” She hopped out of the truck and shut the door in a hurry. “Now go on,” she said, over her shoulder. “Don’t make our cowboy in shining armor wait a second more!”
Tasha rolled her eyes, tossed Lorena her keys, and watched her disappear into her home. She sighed and spun around. Marc was standing by the passenger side of his truck, holding the door open for her.
She expelled a breath and tucked her chin. Why must he make it so difficult to hate him?
~~~
On the ride back to the cabin, Marc never once mentioned what he was planning to do when they arrived. They’d made small talk mostly, swapping stories about the weather and the landscape, about camp life and the upcoming holidays. Tasha expected Marc to pull to the side of the road and leave the truck running until she was safely outside. Instead, he parked and hopped out with her.
Three young men stood near the base of that beloved pine near the center of Marc’s lot, the one that reached its way toward heaven. She squelched a sigh. Oh the irony of having to see that beautiful tree removed so close to Christmastime.
“Gentlemen,” Marc called out.
The jeans-clad guys, two of them obviously teens, one older, wore somber expressions.
Andy ran up the gentle incline toward the street. He slid a glance at Tasha then back at Marc. “What the heck happened to this place?”
Marc stayed at the curb, his arms folded. “We’ll try to figure out how those grooves in the ground got there later. Right now I have to head down to an appointment on the Rockler project. Before I go—I have another project for you.” He whistled into the air and waved the other guys over.
Tasha turned to him. “I’ll let you go. Thanks again for all your help today.”
He put a hand out to stop her, but kept his eyes on the guys as they approached.
“Guys, our neighbor has a roof leak and I’d like you to climb up there while the sun’s out and see if you can pinpoint where it’s coming from.”
Tasha shook her head. “No, no ... thank you, but I will call a roofer first thing Monday morning.”
Marc looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “That’s not how we do it around here.” He turned back to the crew, singling out the adult among them. “Bill, I think we’ve got a stack of these same shingles in storage. I’ll leave it up to you to—”
“She said she didn’t want our help,” Andy cut in, a scowl etched deep into his forehead.
Marc’s expression didn’t flinch. “The decision’s been made. As I was saying, Bill, after you all have a chance to climb up and figure out what needs replacing, you and Andy can stay behind to start the tear out while Teddy here goes on back to pick up supplies. Everyone understand?”
Bill nodded once. “Got it.”
Teddy gave him a goofy grin. “Yes, sir.”
Andy lifted a defiant chin at Marc, his eyes blazing.
Tasha tapped Marc on the shoulder. She gestured with her pointer finger for him to follow her.
“Give me a minute, guys,” he said, and followed Tasha around the back of her house until they stood on her deck, out of the crew’s sight.
Tasha crossed her arms tightly in front of her. She gave Marc an unwavering gaze. “I don’t want your guys up on my roof.”
“Really? Why is that?”
She steadied her breath. “Because this is my problem. I’ll take care of it.”
He licked his bottom lip, studying her. “You accepted Lorena’s help last night—”
She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to one side, completely annoyed at how frizzy her mane was surely becoming. “Are you really going to chastise me about that again? Don’t you think I regret Lorena’s injury? Has it ever occurred to you that may be the reason I want to hire a bona fide expert to take care of my leaky roof?” She exhaled a sigh in a burst. “The last thing I want to do is have one of my neighbor’s guys fall off my roof!”
“And that’s the only reason you don’t want my help?”
Tasha felt her gaze dull. This wasn’t going well, and by “this,” she meant the entire move to this peaceful paradise. She never meant to become a hermit; in fact, she envisioned a handful of friendly neighbors that she might run into at the local grocery store or gas station or post office. She figured she’d see them enough to learn their names, but return home to complete her project in peaceful solitude, making decisions without input from bosses or an ex who had likely lied to her from the start. She’d looked forward to turning the rather rundown shack into a picture-perfect cottage with white interior walls, bursts of rustic blues and greens, and a new coat of barn red on the outside. Coffee on the deck out back in the morning, and wine on the front porch at night.
Lately, that bigger than life dream had spiraled to a pinprick. But she didn’t owe Marc an explanation. Really, they had only barely moved past the polite stranger stage.
He reached for her elbow and bent closer to her, his voice low. “You are a brave woman, Tasha McHenry.”
She formed the word “Oh” with her mouth, but no sound came out. She cleared her throat. He’d called her brave. Now what was she to say to that? No one had ever called her brave. She doubted she would have ever used that word to describe herself. “That’s ... that’s kind of you to say, Marc.”
He continued to stare into her eyes, no trace of patronizing in them. “I’ve no doubt you can handle this on your own, but I’ve got a few men here with time on their hands. Let them help you.”
A tinge of wooziness swayed her, and she couldn’t take her eyes from his. She forced herself to blink, and when she did, she managed to glance away. She pulled in
a breath through her nose and swung a hard look back at him. “Fine,” she said, her voice cracking, “but only if I can pay them in pizza.”
Marc laughed, the parentheses around his mouth deepening. He stood straighter and whipped a look back at the men, giving them a wave to continue toward her house. “She’s all yours, guys. When you’re done, Tasha’ll buy dinner.”
Bill and Teddy laughed and smiled. Andy, however, kicked a rock and sulked toward the cabin.
“You’re doing a good thing here, especially where Andy’s concerned,” Marc said. “The kid needs to feel useful. Thank you kindly.”
She nodded, not sure what he meant, but glad to know that this wasn’t a one-sided endeavor.
“I’ve got to run, but I’ll be back this evening. Save some pizza for me?”
She shrugged, biting away a smile. “That’ll be up to them.”
He nodded. “Sure enough.”
~~~
On Monday morning, Tasha woke up, made coffee, fed the pup, got dressed, and headed to her Subaru by the side of the road. The sea beyond the cliff was calm, and admittedly, so was she. The guys had done as promised and more. They’d discovered more than missing shingles when they’d climbed up on her roof on Saturday; they’d found some rotted boards too. The day had been warm and dry for November, so they spent the hours tearing out the damage and replacing what needed replacing with new materials. And when they were done with that, they’d celebrated by hanging Christmas lights for her.
She’d had two nights of peaceful sleep since. And some generous portions of humble pie.
“Morning, Tasha,” Mr. Cho called as she pressed the unlock button on her key fob. He slowed his long, tall strides, even as Courtney attempted to prance on past her, aloof as ever.
“Good morning to you as well,” she called to him.
“I see you’ve had some work done,” he said.
She stopped. Hillary and Lucy, a couple of women in her old office, talked nonstop about all the work they’d had done—lip augmentation, lipo, butt lift—she’d heard it all. But she took another look at Mr. Cho and realized—he was talking about the roof. Tasha stifled a laugh. “Yes. Fixed some leaks!”
The speed-walking couple she’d yet to meet rounded the incline, the wife in front. Mr. Cho gave her a salute as she huffed on past with her intense eyes and low-hanging jowls. She didn’t respond.
Her husband, however, slowed on approach. His beagle pulled and coughed, stretching the leash taut, but the man stopped. He nodded at Mr. Cho, peered at the cabin’s new roof, then gave Tasha a smile that was neither unfriendly or gregarious. “Had quite a crew out here over the weekend,” he said.
Until now, she hadn’t realized that her home had been on display.
She nodded and spun her keys around her fingers. “That’s true. I’m Tasha, by the way.”
“Jim,” he said, simply. He put a hand in his pocket and rocked on his feet. She imagined him sticking around to chat about the intricacies of the roofing project, something she didn’t know much about nor have time to discuss.
“Nice to meet you, J—”
“Jim!” His other half was bellowing at him from several cabins beyond hers, most of them empty second homes.
He gave her a placating smile that she couldn’t have been able to see, then waved her on to continue without him. “My wife—Helena—she’s always in a hurry.”
Mr. Cho crossed the small street, Courtney darting troubled eyes at him. “Jim,” he said, “how’s the manufacturing business, neighbor?”
Jim turned to Tasha. “Cho and I live a few houses apart. Hardly see each other, though.” He pointed toward the hill across the canyon. “I’m up there, beyond your back deck. Mine’s the white house with dormers.”
“That’s a pretty house.”
“Thank you. Anyway, Cho here and I haven’t talked in”—he turned back to Mr. Cho—“how long has it been now? Months?”
Something foreboding crossed Mr. Cho’s face. It reminded Tasha of sorrow.
“Yes, six months now,” Mr. Cho said. His expression remained grim, and though Tasha needed to get to work, something in the downward tug of his eyes made her want to stick around.
Jim pursed his lips. “I suppose you’ve buried yourself in work. That’s understandable under the circumstances. We should’ve—well, we should’ve stopped by more often. We’ll make a point of that.” Jim cast a wary glance to his wife’s back. She had nearly disappeared from view.
“Don’t worry yourself,” Mr. Cho said. He flashed a sad smile at Tasha. “My wife left me.”
Tasha’s thoughts drifted to her own break up. Though she and Roger had not yet married, for a time she was inconsolable. No wonder poor Mr. Cho looked so crestfallen. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Thank you.” He nodded once and looked back to Jim as if it were still too difficult to dwell on.
“So,” Jim began, in an obvious effort to change the subject. “I take it your roof held up okay under that storm.”
Mr. Cho’s expression changed in a blink. He smiled. “Oh, yes, yes. No leaks for me. Of course, I always check my roof in summer. Wouldn’t want to have to climb up on a wet roof in the middle of a storm!” He laughed heartily, stopped abruptly, and looked at Tasha. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” Tasha said. “I’m heading to work now. It was nice to meet you, Jim, and to see you again, Mr. Cho.” They both nodded but stayed rooted, as if they had plans to discuss her roof—or whatever—awhile longer.
She bent to give Courtney a pat, but decided against it when the animal whined and pulled away.
“She’s cranky today,” said Mr. Cho.
Just today?
With one more wave to the two men, Tasha drove off down the hill. At camp, on her way up the back steps to the kitchen, Jeremy’s whistle broke through her thoughts. She stopped, her hand resting on the railing. She knew he was full of hot air—she’d learned of his reputation in a very short time—but no one had ever directed a catcall her way. At least not to her knowledge. Certainly not her ex-fiancé.
“Wanna hold the door there, beautiful?”
She was halfway inside but stopped and held open the creaky wooden door. “Such a flirt,” she said.
“It’s not flirting if ya mean it,” he said with a wink.
Tasha’s mouth opened as if to say something pithy, but she couldn’t think of a thing. Instead, she stood there in the mudroom of the kitchen, her mouth frozen open, as Jeremy darted off to his next stop.
“He’s trouble with a capital T, my friend!”
Tasha shot a look through the open doorway to where Lorena stood with one arm in a sling, and the other stirring a pot of something with steam rising from it. “Wait! Let me do that!” She rushed over and took the spoon from Lorena, realizing with a sudden start that she’d forgotten to wear her apron. Strange. She hadn’t noticed it hanging by the front door where she’d normally left it.
“I still have one good hand, you know,” Lorena said, interrupting her detached musings.
Tasha gave the pot of beans a good stir, breathing in the smoky aroma of bacon. “Yes, and we need to keep that one safe. Thought you were coming in late today.” She gave Lorena a frown.
“Couldn’t sleep. Not complaining, but I noticed that I’m a lot slower at home with this thing on my arm.” She shrugged. “Figured I might as well get up here and get a head start. Kids’ll be here by noon.”
Tasha bit her lip, figuratively, at least. Lorena would probably smack her with a spoon if she expressed her regret one more time, so instead, she’d shown up here early herself as a sort of penance. For the next three hours, she followed Lorena’s instructions, making hot dogs with all the fixins for eighty campers. Several counselors joined in the fun and prepped tables with napkins, silverware, and condiments. And when lunch was over, Tasha herself instructed the kids to “scrape, stack, and sort” before leaving their tables when lunch was over.
She stuck around and did it all ov
er again at dinnertime. By the time she collapsed in her car after work, she had splotches of every edible color on her clothes—and she smelled worse. She started up her car, letting it idle, and put on the air conditioner. True, the air outside was much too cool to need A/C, but she sort of hoped the circulation of air would help dissipate some of the smells. As she sat there, allowing that flowing air to hit her, she checked her email.
One from Marylu, the welcome lady, making sure that she was enjoying the coupons. She hadn’t actually used any yet.
Another from her mom, wanting to know if she would make it home for New Year’s.
And one from ... her former coworker, Aly. She simultaneously pursed her lips and wrinkled her brow. It appeared that Roger ... had disappeared.
CHAPTER NINE
Some of us think he’s become a prodigal again, while others ... well, it’s not comfortable to have to ask you this, Tasha, but just between us—has Roger gone to live with you?
Tasha pulled into the spot on the street in front of her cabin, Aly’s email continuing to occupy her mind. Roger had disappeared. She wagged her head, jostling her curls. After Roger’s desertion, the women in her office had all given her pity pouts. Plenty of “there, there” side hugs and sad frowns, but no one on staff had become openly outraged for her. She’d received only two office-related calls after Roger broke her heart: one from Roger’s mother Syd, asking if she needed help returning gifts, and another from Carrie, a disgruntled ex-employee who offered to aim a line drive straight at Roger’s mini-mansion, the one abutting the country club golf course.
She’d almost taken her up on it.
Tasha leaned back against her car’s head rest, expelling a breath. So much had changed since that infamous day that it almost felt like Rog’s abandonment never really happened. The revelation startled her. When she’d bought this place, she was livid, blind with anger toward a man who had led her on for years. Then as the number of days to escrow closing shrank, she found herself sad, partially about Roger, but also sad that she allowed their relationship to meander along direction-less for so long. It shamed her to think this, but maybe marrying the boss’s son meant more to her than she had ever admitted.
The Christmas Thief Page 5