Theirs by Chance

by Karen Ann Dell

  Zoe glanced up from behind the register, where a customer paid for two of the now-famous sea urchin oil lamps. When they were lighted, the porcelain glowed with faint pinks and creams, their exquisite detail making them mimic the real thing. Word had definitely gotten around, and if Blue Point Cove residents needed a gift, The Silvercreek Gallery was their first stop.

  “Hi, Marjorie. I’ll be right with you.” Zoe beamed at her customer. “Mrs. Yost, you’re lucky to catch a glimpse of our most popular silversmith. Those earrings you bought last week were her creations.” Zoe waved Marjorie over. “Come meet one of your adoring fans, Marjorie.”

  Crap. It has to be on a day when I don’t want to meet anyone.

  She forced a smile and used her armful of goods to keep from extending her hand for a handshake. “Hello, Mrs. Yost I see you’ve found another of Zoe’s items you can’t live without.”

  “Oh my, yes. I’m like a kid in a candy store whenever I stop in here. There are so many beautiful things I can’t resist. Your jewelry is one of my weaknesses, Ms. Matthews. As Zoe mentioned, I just bought a pair of your earrings last week.” She nodded at the soft satin bag dangling from Marjorie’s fingers. “Have you brought more goodies?”

  “I have. But Zoe will have to figure out the mark-up and tag them for display before you can be tempted to purchase something.” So, please, much as I appreciate your praise, go away!

  “Oh well, I’m sure I’ll be back in a day or two to see them. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Matthews.” The woman accepted her bagged purchases from Zoe and left.

  “Not really thrilled to meet one of your fans, I see,” Zoe commented.

  “I know, I know. I’m a terrible salesperson. I’m so glad I can just give you my finished product and let you take care of the rest. I don’t know what I’d do without you, since I’d rather make the stuff and shove it through a slot in my door rather than deal with customers.”

  “And that is exactly the reason you should have a website. Really, Marjorie, you should talk to Andy about it, he did a great job on the one for the gallery.”

  “You’re right, he did. I checked out the site after you told me about my picture being out there.” Which I hated. Thank goodness it was a thumbnail view, and didn’t look much like my old self.

  Zoe grinned. “Once you have one of your own Andy can take a better picture of you. He’s good with a camera and can shoot photos of your pieces too, if you want.”

  “Pictures of the jewelry are fine but there won’t be any pictures of me out there for the world to see.” Marjorie suppressed a shudder at the thought. “I have no desire to be famous. I simply want to sell enough to keep me in supplies. And make a little profit, too.” She admitted with a smile.

  Zoe winced. “Oh. Then I guess you aren’t going to be as thrilled as I hoped when I tell you that our gallery opening got a nice spread in one of the national art magazines.”

  Marjorie nearly dropped the boxes of pastries. “What? Please tell me it didn’t include that photo of me.” A chill chased down her spine and she couldn’t seem to take a deep breath.

  Zoe nodded and bit her lip. “Yeah, it did. I’m so sorry, Marjorie. It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t want the publicity.”

  Oh shit. Oh crap. Oh God. Her heart pounded and she felt faint. This can’t be happening!

  “Holy cow, Marjorie, sit down. You’re white as a ghost.” Zoe came around from behind the counter and pushed Marjorie into a chair. “Stay there while I get you some water.” She hurried toward the back of the store.

  She knew Zoe thought she was crazy but she couldn’t explain her behavior and didn’t want to face an interrogation. She left her jewelry bag and the bakery boxes on the counter, grabbed her purse, and rushed out the door.

  She had to decide if she should stay in Blue Point Cove or run.

  Again.

  Lance put the final coat of paint on the new spindles he’d replaced on the inn’s front porch railing. Not a bad job if I do say so myself. He gathered up his paintbrushes and tools and headed for the backyard.

  Marjorie’s car shot by him on the driveway and screeched to a halt just before she hit the back wall of the garage. She got out and hurried inside without her usual greeting. Odd. He shrugged. Maybe she just had to use the bathroom. He finished cleaning up and used his key to get in the back door, then walked down the hall toward the front. No Marjorie. Frowning slightly, he turned to go back to the kitchen and wait until she came downstairs. A loud thump stopped him. He changed direction and headed up the stairs.

  “Marjorie? You okay?” he called from the bottom of the staircase that led to her suite on the third floor. No answer but more thumping and scraping, like she dragged something heavy across the floor. She shouldn’t be moving anything that weighed more than an envelope with those bruises on her wrists. He grimaced again at the thought of how he’d hurt her.

  He wasn’t sure he should have invaded her space without her permission but her race for the door when she arrived worried him. He climbed the stairs, announcing his presence on the way up so he wouldn’t startle her. “Marjorie? Can I give you a hand with something?” he asked as he reached the door to her bedroom.

  She whirled at the sound of his voice and slammed the lid on the trunk at the foot of her bed. A large battered suitcase lay open atop the quilt and two of the drawers in her bureau were open. A black lace bra was draped haphazardly over the side of one. Her face was so pale her sprinkling of freckles stood out in stark relief across her cheeks, and her eyes were wide with panic. She twisted a piece of clothing, a nightgown possibly, with nervous fingers. He doubted it would ever return to the original shape.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “No. Yes. Maybe.” She gulped in a breath, seemed to notice the hapless garment clutched in her hands, then she dropped it into the suitcase. “I’ve received some news that may require me to go away for a, a bit.”

  “A family emergency?” He took a few steps toward her then stopped as she backed away from him an equal distance.

  “No.” She turned away but not before he caught the sheen of tears in her eyes.

  Lance recognized a panic attack when he saw one. He’d had enough of his own to know how she must be feeling. All of his protective instincts rose to the surface. He wanted to take her in his arms and stroke her back until the knots in her muscles loosened. But she wasn’t ready for that much intimacy. If he pushed her he feared she would either order him out of her room or run past him down the stairs and out of the house. He needed to find out what was frightening her so badly. He forced himself to relax and lean casually against the dresser.

  “I have no family. Well, except for my father who took off when I was eleven.” She shrugged. “I have no idea if he’s alive or dead.”

  Lance nodded. If he ever comes back, I’ll have to beat the shit out of him for leaving you. Keeping his expression and voice neutral, he asked, “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure.” She bit her lip and frowned, her hands performing the same dance without the nightgown.

  “Do you have to go right away? Maybe we could have a cup of coffee before you leave. You could tell me what has you so upset.”

  “No. No, I can’t tell you. It would just put you in danger, too.” She winced. “I mean it would be a lot of trouble for you and I, uh, don’t want to add to your problems. I, I’ll be fine.”

  Well, there’s no way in hell you’re getting out of my sight until I know what you’re running from. Once I find out I’ll fix the problem so you’ll have no need to go, even if that means I have to lock you in this room until I figure it out.

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “Actually I’m quite a good liar. Right now I’m a little . . .”

  “Nervous? Frightened? Panic-stricken?”
>
  She shot her chin up and squared her shoulders. “Distracted.”

  “Right.” He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and crossed his legs at the ankles, his casual pose appearing for all the world as if they discussed nothing more important than the weather.

  Marjorie narrowed her eyes. “I’m fine. Really. Thank you for your concern.” She gave him a dismissive nod.

  He didn’t move. A faint smile twitched the corners of his mouth. He had to admire her fortitude. “Come on downstairs. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

  Her eyes rounded and she almost smiled at that. “You’ll make me tea?”

  “You doubt my abilities?” He raised one brow.

  “You don’t drink tea.”

  “I don’t drink mai-tai’s either but I still know how to make one.”

  She heaved a sigh, her gaze on the ceiling. “All right, let’s have tea.”

  Chapter 8

  Marjorie watched Lance as he filled the kettle and turned on the gas, then got her teapot from the cabinet next to the sink and rinsed it with hot water to warm it. By the time he got her favorite cup and saucer out—how did he know that, anyway?—and put two bags of chamomile tea in the pot, the teakettle whistled its readiness. He filled the pot and set it on the table, then took his usual seat with his back against the wall.

  Her heart still tripped along at twice its normal rate yet the calm way Lance had made the tea helped steady her nerves.

  Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have someone who would always be there when I needed him? Tall and strong and solid as the oak tree in the backyard. Someone who could handle any problem. Slay all my dragons. Make me feel safe. Make me tea . . .

  Someone exactly like Lance.

  Yeah. Dream on, Matthews.

  Lance had done more than his fair share in the hero department in Iraq. Over the past few months she’d watched him become more confident. His sessions with Dr. Majewski and his job at the radio station with other men recovering from PTSD had replaced the original fragility she’d sensed when he first came to the cove with a renewal of an inner strength. Regardless of his progress, his flashback proved that he still had a ways to go toward complete recovery, so she certainly wasn’t about to dump her problems on him.

  Lance laid a finger gently on the bruise he’d made. “Earth to Marjorie. What’s putting that frown line between your eyes?”

  You are. She studied his hand, now lightly tanned from the work he did outside. Broad palms and long fingers. Strong hands she remembered hauling her up from the floor like she weighed almost nothing. Now his touch was gentle, light, almost tender.

  Oh God. Stop thinking like this.

  He saw her study his hand and immediately pulled it back.

  She took a sip of her tea and hoped he didn’t notice her hand tremble when she set the cup back in the saucer. She needed some time to figure out what to do. After all, one picture out of millions on the Internet was hardly sending up a flare. Besides, Bryan believed she was dead. Killed in the explosion Lenny rigged at her mom’s trailer. He’d never known about her twin, so one of the two sets of DNA they recovered from the scene matched hers perfectly.

  She took a deep breath. Covered Lance’s hand with her own. “Thank you for being so kind. I didn’t mean to worry you. I have some things to figure out and I was upset about the news I got. But once I sort everything out, I don’t think I’ll have to leave after all.”

  He leaned toward her and cupped her cheek with his other hand. “You know I’m here if you need anything. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

  Marjorie held his gaze while her heart broke inside her. Oh crap. If only . . . She sighed. “Thank you, Sir Lance. I know I can count on you.” But I won’t. I care too much to risk your life.

  Exactly how much did she care? She pushed that thought aside to deal with later.

  “I wish you would tell me what had you so upset.”

  “It’s nothing really. Just an overblown reaction to some surprising news. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I realize I was way out of control over something not worth worrying about.” She tilted her cheek away from his hand and added some tea to her cup. “Now tell me how you learned your way around a teapot like an expert.”

  Lance leaned back in his chair, his gaze still thoughtful. “My mom was a big tea drinker. She had a whole collection of teapots, and her favorite was one almost like yours. It only held two cups, and she impressed upon her oldest son the importance of warming the pot first, among other things.” He chuckled.

  Marjorie’s smile was wistful as she imagined Lance growing up in a family so different from her own. She blinked the vision away. “And the mai-tai’s? Did your mom teach you how to make them, too?”

  “Nah. That I learned working as a bartender to help pay my way through college.”

  “You’re quite the talented guy.”

  He waggled his eyebrows and leered. “Yes, I have many talents you’ve yet to see.”

  She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Holy shit, she was blushing, God help her. She took another gulp of tea and noticed her hands were more unsteady than before.

  Forcing herself to forget the feel of Lance’s hand on her skin, she considered some other measures she might take to help her feel safe. After all, Lance wouldn’t be renting her apartment forever.

  Maybe she should get a dog. A nice, big, protective one like a German Shepherd or a Doberman. Lance’s flashback replayed in her mind. Especially his snarl when he asked her if she’d killed his dog. Better check with Chris Majewski first to make sure that getting a dog wouldn’t interfere with Lance’s recovery.

  “Is Captain Majewski still coming tomorrow?”

  Lance nodded. “Yeah. Tomorrow evening.”

  “Could you ask him if I could chat with him a few minutes before he leaves?” She toyed with the napkin in her lap and refused to meet his gaze.

  “Of course. I’m sure he’ll be happy to talk with you.”

  Marjorie forced a smile. “Well, since you managed to restore my normal perspective, the least I can do is reward you with dinner. Think you can handle a steak and a baked potato?”

  “You do know the way to a man’s heart, Marjorie.”

  Which is only fair, since you’ve already found your way into mine.

  When he arrived home from work the next morning, Lance checked the garage for Marjorie’s car to make sure she hadn’t taken off in the middle of the night. Relieved to see it still there, he went upstairs to shower and change.

  If Marjorie thought she had sidetracked him with dinner last night, she was sadly mistaken. Especially after her request to talk to Chris. He knew the doc wouldn’t divulge anything from their sessions, just as he knew if he asked later, Chris wouldn’t reveal what Marjorie said. Too bad, because he’d love to be a fly on the wall during their conversation. No matter. He’d do a little digging into Marjorie’s past on his own. His first stop would be Zoe’s gallery.

  An hour later, the cheerful bell over the door announced his arrival at the Silvercreek Gallery. He saw relief replace surprise in Zoe’s eyes as he strode up to the counter.

  “Hi, Zoe. How’s business?” He glanced at the jewelry on display in the case.

  “Couldn’t be better, Lance. How’s things over at WMES?”

  “Going well. I really lucked out when Chris pointed me in this direction.” He studied the items spread out on the velvet-lined trays under the glass. “My mom’s birthday is coming up soon, so I’d like to give her a pair of Marjorie’s earrings.”

  “You should probably ask Marjorie first. I’m sure she’d give you a big discount.” Zoe grinned.

  “Nah, I want to pay full price like any other customer. She deserves to have folks pay for her talents.”

  Zoe put her han
ds on her hips and blew out a breath. “That’s what I keep telling her. The woman shies away from publicity like someone who’s on the FBI’s most-wanted list. It was bad enough when I told her she was in one of the photos the newspaper took at our grand opening, but when I told her the gallery had gotten a nice spread in one of the national art magazines, I thought she was going to faint.”

  “No kidding?” He feigned surprise and hoped Zoe would keep talking.

  “Oh, yeah. She got so pale I made her sit down and went to get her a glass of water. But when I came back with it she was already gone.” Zoe shook her head in confusion. “Did she say anything about it to you?”

  “No. She seemed kind of distracted, but she wouldn’t tell me what bothered her. Said she just overreacted and it was nothing to worry about.”

  “Oh, good. I was afraid she was mad at me.”

  “No, I don’t think she was angry at you.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Women.” He rolled his eyes.

  Zoe grinned. “We are difficult for you guys to figure out. It’s part of our charm. Don’t worry, she won’t admit it, but I think she likes you.”

  “Really?” Now that is the best piece of information I’ve gotten today.

  Zoe waved her hand across the top of the counter. “What can I get out to show you?”

  Twenty minutes later, Lance left with a pair of silver earrings and a cuff bracelet set with a large turquoise cabochon.

  The news that had upset Marjorie so much wasn’t really news, it was the knowledge that her picture was in a national magazine. Which could only mean she was afraid someone would recognize her. And then, what? Surely she couldn’t actually be on the FBI’s most-wanted list?