"So you spoke to her before the break-in?" It was interesting that Roberta had just arrived back in town.
"Yes, but she didn't seem to be revving up to rob the antique store," Drew said dryly. "It was all about politics. She was very concerned with making sure that Daniel gets a good launch here in Sand Harbor. Apparently, she's using her old Wellbourne ties to bring out the local money."
"Didn't Jack have some kids?"
"Two sons with his first wife, Laura. She passed on when his kids were little. The men are in their mid thirties now. I've contacted both of them. Neither one of them said they had any problems with the distribution of their father's belongings. They're both wealthy in their own right and apparently inherited a great deal of money, according to the lawyer I also spoke to. One of the sons told me he thought their father was in love with Phoebe, so it wasn't surprising that he left her some trinkets."
"It looked like more than a few trinkets," he said. "There are a lot of items. Did the attorney provide a list of what was shipped to the shop?"
"No, apparently the pieces were put in boxes some years ago and stored in the attic, each one marked for delivery to the store, but there was no itemized list."
"That doesn't help."
"No, it doesn't."
"Who found Phoebe and called for help?" he asked, as it occurred to him that there might be someone else to talk to.
"Edwin Hayes."
"The Chief of Police?" he asked in surprise.
"Yes. The chief is a neighbor and a very close friend of Phoebe's. They spend a lot of time together. She told him she was going to get a head start on the unpacking and after he got off work, he went by to help her. Unfortunately, he got there a little late."
"He didn't see anything or anyone?"
"No, and he knows how to review a crime scene. He made sure that we did a thorough sweep of the shop and the surrounding area. He is very determined to find out who did this. That's why he was all right with me bringing you in. And I'm glad I did." Drew paused, a knowing gleam in his eyes. "Because you're getting interested in this case. You're talking like an investigator."
"I always liked puzzles," he admitted.
"Especially when you were working them with Alexa," Drew pointed out.
"Don't start."
"So what does she look like? Better or worse than you expected?"
"I'm sure you'll see her," he said, getting to his feet.
"You're not going to give me anything?"
"No."
"Where are you going to eat?"
"La Cantina."
"Watch the margaritas. They can be deadly, especially where hot blondes are concerned."
"I never said she was a hot blonde."
Drew laughed. "But she is, isn't she?"
He frowned. "Are you sure you didn't set me up?"
"I wish I'd thought of it. It would have been a hell of a good idea." Drew's expression turned more somber. "Kinley treated you like shit. After everything you went through, you didn't deserve –"
He cut Drew off with a wave of his head. "You don't know what I deserved."
"You're going to defend Kinley?" Drew asked in amazement.
"She did what she had to do. And I'm doing what I have to do. Leave it alone." The last thing he wanted to think about was his marriage, especially right before he was going to see the one woman he'd always thought he'd marry.
Chapter Three
La Cantina was busy for a Wednesday night. There was a twenty-first birthday party, some singles chatting it up at the bar, and a dining room filled with families. Alexa put in her name with the hostess, snagged a stool at the less crowded end of the bar and ordered a margarita. She wasn't a big drinker, but tonight she needed something to take the edge off. It had been a long, emotional day, worrying about her aunt, seeing the destruction in the shop and then running into Braden again.
It was silly to be nervous about having dinner with him. This was the kid she'd shared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with. But she couldn't deny the rapid beat of her pulse or her sweaty palms. Braden had grown up to be a very sexy, masculine man, and even if she hadn't known him as a kid, she would have been attracted to him. She couldn't imagine a woman that wouldn’t be, although he might have to work a little on his charm. She wondered if he was that moody and angry with everyone or just with her. He'd definitely been tense during their conversation.
The bartender set down a very large margarita, and she took a grateful sip, enjoying the slide of the icy blend down her throat. Looking around the restaurant, she tried to distract herself by people watching. She wondered if any of the other patrons were people she'd known in her past, kids that had grown up to get married and have children of their own. But no one in the immediate vicinity looked at all familiar, until Braden walked in.
She drew in a quick breath, feeling like she'd taken another punch to the stomach.
"You got a head start," Braden said, joining her at the bar.
"I was thirsty."
"Sorry if I kept you waiting."
"You didn't. I just got here a few minutes ago."
"How's your aunt?"
"No change. She's still asleep. I ran into Evie at the hospital and a half dozen of my aunt's friends in the waiting room. They're pretty much doing a round-the-clock vigil, so if she does wake up, someone will be there. I always knew Aunt Phoebe was popular, but I didn't realize how many people are devoted to her. It's very impressive."
"Part of living in a small town. People care about each other. The flip side is that everyone wants to be in your business."
"We're not talking about my aunt any more, are we?" she said knowingly.
"No, we're not. Where is that bartender?" he muttered.
"Are people getting in your business, Braden?"
"They're certainly trying."
Before she could say more, the hostess called her name.
"We're up," she said.
"Great, I'm starving."
Alexa took her drink with her as the hostess led them to a table in the back of the restaurant. The young woman handed them some menus and told them their server would be with them in a moment. A busboy followed, dropping off chips and salsa and two glasses of water.
Alexa sipped her margarita, both relieved and uncomfortable with the quiet. It would be easier for them to talk here, but did she really want to talk? Braden had been a shadowy image in her head for a long time. She didn't really know what to say to the real, live version of him. And he was touchy. She sensed it wouldn’t take much to set off the smoldering fire in his eyes.
Braden suddenly put his hand over hers, stilling her rapidly drilling fingers.
Their eyes met.
He smiled. "Some things don’t change."
The heat from his fingers warmed her all the way through – or maybe that was the tequila in her margarita. "Sorry, bad habit," she said, pulling her hand away.
"I remember."
"So this place wasn't here when I was a kid. It was something else," she said, changing the subject. "It was a diner, wasn't it?"
"With really bad food," Braden said. "It went out of business when I was in high school. This restaurant opened up a few years later." He paused. "Why are you nervous?"
"The robbery, my aunt's injuries … you. This is so weird, Braden."
He nodded in agreement. "When I got up this morning, I didn't expect to end up having dinner with you."
"Me either. I can't get over how old you are."
"Thanks," he said dryly.
"I didn't mean it in a negative way. You've just been frozen in time in my head, and I'm not used to this new, adult you. Look at us, we're drinking alcohol."
"Well, you are. I'm still looking for a waiter."
"You know what I mean."
"It is strange," he conceded. "The last time I had a drink with you was at my cousin Mary's wedding. We sneaked champagne into the garage when no one was looking."
"And I hated the taste of it," sh
e said, remembering those tiny bubbles from a long time ago. "I pretended that I liked it, because I wanted to be cool, but I thought it was disgusting."
"So did I," he said.
"You chugged it."
"Because it was disgusting," he replied with a small smile.
This was the old Braden, the one she'd shared secrets with, her best friend. Her heart warmed as she gazed back at him. "I thought you liked it."
"I wanted to be cool, too."
"Did you learn to like it?"
"Never. What about you?"
She shook her head. "On my 21st birthday, my date bought me a really expensive bottle of champagne, and I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't like it."
Braden's gaze darkened at the mention of another guy. At least, she thought that was the reason for the sudden shadows in eyes. She didn’t have a chance to ask. The waiter appeared to take their drink orders and announce the specials.
Braden ordered a beer, and the waiter said he'd be back in a moment to take the rest of their order.
She picked up her menu, perusing the large selection of entrees. "What's good here?"
"Enchiladas, super burritos, tamales. I haven't had anything bad yet," he replied, as he flipped through the menu.
"Do you eat here a lot?" she asked.
"Since I moved back, I've been here a few times."
"When did you return?"
"About two months ago."
The waiter returned with Braden's beer and asked if they'd decided.
"I'll have the chicken enchiladas," she said.
"Beef burrito," Braden said, handing over their menus.
After the waiter left, Braden raised his bottle of beer. "Cheers."
She clinked her glass to his bottle and said, "Cheers."
Feeling emboldened by the tequila, she asked, "So do I look different to you, Braden?"
"You're definitely not twelve anymore."
His gaze dropped to her breasts, and she self-consciously crossed her arms. She'd definitely developed some curves since she'd left Sand Harbor.
"You're beautiful, Alexa," he added, his tone husky as he raised his eyes to hers.
Heat ran through her body, warming her cheeks. "You don't have to say that."
"I know I don't have to, but it's true. I always knew you would be."
"I don't see how you could have known that. I had so many freckles when I was a kid, and my hair always frizzed in the salt air. I was too skinny. That stupid friend of yours, Paul, used to say I had horse legs."
"If it makes you feel any better, Paul lost all his hair by the time he was twenty-three."
"Well, good," she said. "I don't feel at all sorry for him."
"I didn't think you would." He paused, taking another swig of beer, his gaze growing more reflective. "You were cute at twelve, but even prettier at sixteen."
She stared at him in surprise. "How would you know that? You didn't see me at sixteen."
"I did see you," he replied. "But you didn't see me."
"What are you talking about? Where were you? Where was I?"
"It was at your high school in Virginia."
"You did not come to Virginia," she denied.
"It was the summer after my father died. There was a school trip to D.C. When the group went to tour the Pentagon, I took a bus to Alexandria. I waited in front of your school until the bell rang. I wasn't sure what I was going to say when I saw you – if I saw you. I was just about to give up when you came out with someone -- some guy." His voice turned cold. "He had his arm around you, and he said something, and you laughed. Then he kissed you." Braden shrugged. "So I left." He raised his beer to his lips again.
"Why didn't you say something?" she asked, amazed that he'd come to see her and she'd never known.
"You were with someone else."
"Well, why didn't you tell me you were coming? We could have set something up."
"I wasn't sure I was going to come until the last second," he replied.
She shook her head. "I don't understand, Braden. You told me earlier that you didn't call me back after your dad died because we weren't friends anymore."
"We weren't friends, Alexa. You didn't call or keep in touch. You moved on. So I tried to do the same. But when the trip came up, I thought what the hell, might as well check in. See if there's any reason to talk again."
"I wish you would have said something." Her stomach twisted into a knot of regret at the lost opportunity. "I know I broke my promise to you to keep in touch."
"We don't have to go over this again."
"We do, because you don't understand. My mother was a mess after the divorce. She cried all day and all night. Sometimes, she'd sit in her room and put her arms around her knees, and curl up into this tight, sad little ball, and she'd just rock back and forth and sob like her heart was literally breaking. And when she wasn't crying, she was furious. She moved me back east so that my father couldn't see me. She used me like a weapon, and I couldn't even blame her, because my father was so mean to her. I was the only one she had to lean on, and holding her up took every last bit of strength I had."
Now that she'd started to explain, she couldn’t seem to stop. "I felt like I was drowning in her depression, Braden. And I had no one to turn to. All my friends were gone, and you seemed like a million miles away. I knew my mom was never going to let me go back to Sand Harbor, because she and my aunt stopped talking to each other. So every time you asked me when I was coming back, I was lying to you, pretending that it was going to happen. And it just got too hard. I felt … hopeless." She drew in a ragged breath. "It was a bad time in my life."
He frowned. "I had no idea it was that rough. You should have said something."
"I kept thinking I'd wait until I had good news, but good news never came, and then the silence had gone on too long, and I thought you'd probably forgotten about me. When your dad died, I wanted to talk to you so much, but when you didn't call me back, I realized you really were done." Which brought her back to the same surprise she'd felt a moment earlier. "I can't believe you came to see me the next year."
"I didn't forget about you, Alexa. I tried, but I couldn't."
"I didn't forget about you, either. That's why I came here after college." She paused. "We have really bad timing."
"Yeah, we do." He paused. "I wish I'd know how bad your mom was."
"No one knew. She swore me to secrecy, afraid I'd tell you, and you'd tell your mom, who'd tell my aunt… She didn't want my dad to know how much he'd hurt her, at least, most of the time. When she was trying to make a point or asking for more child support, then sometimes she'd let him in on her pain."
"I guess that makes sense," he said slowly.
"Nothing in divorce makes sense."
"Well, that's true."
His response reminded her that he'd had his own share of problems. She sat back in her chair, studying him for a moment. "What happened with your marriage?"
He shook his head, a steel glint in his eyes. "My marriage is not up for discussion, Alexa."
She didn't like his abrupt answer, but Braden had always been private, even as a kid.
"What about you?" he asked.
"I'm not married, if that's the question."
"Significant other?"
"No."
"That's hard to believe."
"I've been busy making a career."
"As an accountant?"
She frowned. "Don't say it like it's a dirty word."
"I just don't get it." He rested his arms on the table as he leaned forward. "You had such big dreams when you were a kid – the biggest dreams I'd ever heard."
The reminder brought a wave of sadness. She felt as if her life could be divided into parts -- the time before the divorce, and the time after.
"When my family fell apart, my dreams went away, too," she said. "There just didn't seem to be any point. I had to grow up, so I did. You should understand. You were the man of your family long before your dad
died. You used to take care of your mom and your brother and sister. You were responsible, realistic, and I was just a silly dreamer."
"I wouldn't say you were silly."
"Well, thanks for that. Is your family still living here?"
"My mother and sister are. My brother is in Portland. He's in law school."
"Law school? In my mind Matt is still five years old."
"Twenty-two now."
"Well, your mom and sister must be happy to have you back."
"They are."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their food.
"This looks good," she said, picking up her fork. The delicious smell made her stomach rumble, and she realized how long it had been since she'd last eaten.
They ate in silence. As usual, Braden inhaled his food, cleaning his plate before she was halfway through her enchiladas. She smiled. "You were always fast," she said.
"Got faster when I was in the service. I never knew how long I had to eat."
"Where did you serve?"
"I was in Iraq and also in Afghanistan and a bunch of other places you've never heard of."
"How did you get injured?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"You have a lot of things you don't want to talk about."
"Yes, I do," he said bluntly.
She set down her fork. "Fine. So let's talk about the robbery. I assume Drew didn't give you any new information."
"No. He's been looking into a link between the shipment from the Wellbourne estate and the break-in, but he hasn't found any ties. Wellbourne's sons seem to have no argument with the items being sent to your aunt. They indicated that their father was quite fond of Phoebe."
"Really? That's interesting."
"The lawyer said no one else has come forward to contest anything in the will. Drew thinks it's a dead end."
The spark in his eyes told her he didn't agree with his friend. "But you don't?"
"The only thing that was different about yesterday was that delivery. It could have been the trigger or just a coincidence, but I'm not ready to rule it out."
Just a Wish Away Page 4