by Lynn Cahoon
“Not tonight. Go do your writing magic and leave the domestic stuff to me. Let me earn my keep here.”
Cat wandered out into the foyer and glanced out the window. She wanted to go outside and sit on the swing on the front porch and polish off that bottle of wine. But Shauna was right. She was on deadline. She’d hoped she’d be able to write during the retreat, set a good example for her guests. Now two days had passed and, except for the hard-earned page or two she’d pounded out yesterday, her word count was pathetic.
She climbed the stairs to her office, started a cup of apple cider in her pod machine, and opened up her file. After a few minutes, the magic took over and she was lost in the world of a teenage witch trying to be normal.
A knock on her door brought her out of the story she was creating. She looked at the clock on the computer: already nine. Time to shut down for the night anyway. “Come on in, I’m shutting down,” Cat called out. The door opened but Shauna didn’t appear next to her.
“I wondered if you wanted to take a walk with me.” Seth’s voice gave her chills down her spine.
She spun around. “It’s kind of late.”
He shrugged, not looking at her. Instead, he was thumbing through the books she’d gotten shelved last week. Boxes still littered the floor, filled with books waiting to be introduced to their new home. Or for some, their old home. Cat just hoped she’d be able to keep the house now that she’d taken out a bank loan for the renovations. “Perfect time to walk. We don’t have to worry about running into those college kids avoiding their classes.” He took a book off the shelf and pointed it at her. “You care if I borrow this? I’m kind of obsessed with his writing.”
Cat took the book from him. It was an old H. P. Lovecraft story. She’d picked it up when she’d been teaching freshman English as a way to introduce the class to the horror genre, but had gone another way with her lesson plans. “I haven’t read this yet. You’ll have to tell me how you like it.” She handed the book back.
“Leave it to you to have books you’ve never read. Don’t you know most of us buy books to read them?” He nudged her toward the stairs. “We’ll walk through town, and I can show you all the new stuff that’s happened since you left.”
“I drove through town on my way here. I think I saw most of the new stores.” Cat followed him down the stairs anyway. She knew she would agree to go walking, she just wanted him to work for it.
“Fine.” He took her hand at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll buy you an ice cream cone at the Big Bun.”
“Now you’ve convinced me.” She opened the door and motioned him out. “After you. And make sure you have your wallet—you’re not getting out of buying that easy.”
He stopped at his truck and put the book on the passenger seat. Cat glanced inside the truck, seeing he still kept his vehicles spotless. For a guy who worked construction and liked to explore the outdoors, Seth always kept his truck clean. He’d picked her up for prom in his old beat-up Ford, but when he’d opened the door to help her in, she had been surprised to see he’d power washed the inside and hand-dried the cab from top to bottom.
He noticed her watching him and shrugged. “I can’t help it; I like a clean car.”
They walked toward town. The air felt soft on her face, and for a spring evening, the light jacket she’d grabbed out of the hall closet before they left the house was the perfect weight. For a while, they didn’t talk. Finally, Seth spoke. “Did you know Tom Cook?”
Cat sighed. “Only through his books. He signed up late and I wondered if he was the Tom Cook. Rose counted on him being the famous author. She’s kind of an obsessed fan.”
“I can’t say I’ve read any of his work.” They turned off Warm Springs and onto Main Street, walking away from the college.
“I read his breakout book. It was terrific, but I’m not into thrillers. I like my small-town settings, and Tom focused on globe-trotting heroes, saving the world from the evils that lurk in remote destinations.” She cocked her head. “He really was an amazing writer, though. I looked forward to talking with him this week.”
“Sounds like a book I’d like. I’ll have to put it on my bookstore list.” He nodded to the next storefront. “Tammy Jones took over the bookstore a couple years ago when Mrs. Henry retired. The school orders books through her, but a lot of their stuff is e-book now, so she’s been struggling. I try to stop in every week or so to refill my to-be-read pile. You should talk to her; maybe you guys can do a joint promotion or something for the writers who come to your retreat.”
It was a surprisingly good idea. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at him. “When did you become so smart?”
He pulled her forward. “I got my marketing degree in college. I just don’t use it much. What, you thought I was the same dumb kid you dumped that summer?”
She snuck a peek at Seth as they continued to walk through town. He had changed, and not just physically. His manner was more relaxed and, for a moment, she flashed back on their last fight. Why had she been so angry, so adamant that she was on the side of the right?
They talked about nothing and everything on the rest of the walk. When they reached the drive-in, she sat at the tables out front while he went to the walk-up window to get their ice cream. He came back with a double cone for her, strawberry cobbler on the bottom and French vanilla on the top. It had been her favorite cone since she was twelve and started walking to the drive-in by herself. He had a double chocolate cone for himself.
“You remembered.” She took a bite of the vanilla, closing her eyes as the memories hit her from the rich custard taste.
“I remember a lot,” he said, his voice low and husky. She opened her eyes and he kissed her. He licked his lips. “I always liked the way your vanilla mixes with my chocolate.”
She watched as he took another bite of his own cone. What were they doing? Taking up where they’d left off that summer? Like she’d never married Michael. Like years hadn’t passed since they’d sat here together, hands entwined. Her voice sounded shaky when she spoke. “I’m not sure what’s happening here.”
“Nothing you don’t want. If I’m moving too fast, I’ll step back.” He studied her over his ice cream. “It’s just damn good to see you, Cat. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed you.”
The walk back to the house was quiet. Cat felt lost in her memories. When they reached the house, she leaned against the door. “I’m not sure I’m ready to date again. Michael and I, well, let’s just say it was a nasty breakup.”
“If the guy wasn’t already dead, I’d like to kill him for what he did to you. I wanted to punch him in his face when I’d see him with those co-eds around town. All he wanted was the newest version, kind of like a guy replacing his sports car every year with the newer model.” Seth ran his finger down her cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry about for getting out of that marriage.”
His words were true and, yet, Cat still couldn’t bring herself to hate Michael as much as she’d been told she should. He’d been kind, easy to talk to, and attentive, at least in the beginning. When he’d stopped coming home for dinner, telling her he had to work late, she’d known he was straying. And she hadn’t confronted him. Not until she’d seen the motel receipts in his desk. And when he didn’t deny the accusation, she’d filed for divorce. And cried for a week. When she’d moved out of the house, he’d barely noticed and he didn’t even show up for their court date, sending his lawyer instead.
He’d been done with her and she never wanted to feel that discarded again.
She focused on Seth and felt his body heat against her own. He’d come up to her room if she gave him a speck of encouragement. And she wanted him. But not this way, not with the taste of Michael’s betrayal still on her lips.
She put her hand on his chest and stopped him from coming closer. “I’m not sure what I want. I wouldn’t blame you if you told me to make up my mind or walk away. I’m just not ready to do either one. Not yet.”
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He leaned in and kissed her, sweet and short. He tapped her nose. “Go to sleep. The world will look brighter tomorrow.”
She watched him walk back to his truck, liking the view from behind as much as she liked his front view. “Get a grip, Cat. You’re the one who sent him away.” She waved as he got into the truck and started the engine.
He rolled down the window. “Thanks for the book.” She stayed on the porch as he drove away.
When she entered the lobby, Shauna leaned against the checkin desk. “You’re a complete idiot. There’s no way I’d let that hunk leave, not without at least a test drive.”
“You were eavesdropping.” Cat pulled off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack. “That’s not polite.”
“Actually, I was waiting for you.” Shauna pointed to the old hotel key holder they’d found on the Internet and installed behind the desk. “We have a surprise guest. I told her we’d charge her a reasonable nightly rate, but honestly, I’m not sure how to figure that out, without the retreat part of the package. We never considered opening the rooms for guests during the rest of the month.”
“Someone just arrived and wanted to stay here? How did they find out about us?” Cat walked over to look at the reservation card and read the name aloud. “Linda Cook? Seriously?”
Shauna nodded. “Yep, the dead guy’s wife just checked in for a week’s stay.”
Chapter 6
Cat leaned against the doorway Wednesday morning, listening to William Turner explain his research on Hemingway and his writing style. Rose and Daisy were busy scribbling notes, Sara appeared to be texting on her phone, and Billy was glaring at Cat. The day had started out uncomfortable when Cat had gone over the day’s schedule.
Now, the tension was electric. Professor Turner looked at her and smiled. “We’ll take a short break to refill our coffee and drinks and when we come back, I’ll take questions about what we’ve discussed so far.”
Billy tried to bolt through the door, but Cat grabbed his shirt and hauled him into a small sitting room near the lobby.
“What the hell are you doing?” he sputtered.
She pushed him into a chair then pulled up one to face him. “Look, I know you’re angry about being questioned about Mr. Cook’s death, but honestly, everyone was. And you have a reason to be mad at the guy, don’t you?”
The mad seeped from Billy’s demeanor and he looked beat up. “So you figured it out?” He shook his head. “I didn’t want the guy dead. I just wanted him to tell everyone I’d helped with his book. I wanted him to share some of that money he made off my idea.”
Cat let him vent. “You know ideas are a dime a dozen; it’s how you write the story that matters. Look at me, I’m writing a teenage witch story that’s not a bit like the movie version, even though they both attend high school.”
Billy shrugged. “I guess. I just wanted him to take my book to his agent. Do you know how hard it is to get an agent these days? You got to know somebody.” He cracked his knuckles. “The guy laughed at me. So I went to that dive bar down the street and tied one on.”
“Which is why you have an alibi.” Cat shrugged. “I don’t really care why you came to the retreat. What I want to know is if you’re planning on staying, will you act like a human being, or do you just want to leave?”
He shrugged. “I borrowed the money to attend from my mom. I guess I could stay and finish the book I’m working on.”
“And you’ll be at least civil to the rest of the group?” Cat pressed. She didn’t want him ruining the experience for the other participants.
Billy smiled a million-watt smile and nodded. “I’m good at charming the ladies, just give me a chance.”
Cat wanted to gag. Instead, she kept her response cordial. “I don’t need you to charm them. Just be polite and involved in the conversation.”
He shot her a short salute. “Ten-four.” He walked over to the sideboard and filled a cup with coffee.
Cat returned to the living room where Daisy stood with Professor Turner, discussing some part of his earlier lecture. Rose sat alone and Cat decided to check in on her. She looked up when Cat paused at her chair. “Good morning, dear.”
“Good morning to you. I’ve been meaning to check in and see how you were doing. I know you respected Mr. Cook’s literary works.” Cat sank down next to the woman and watched her dab her eyes.
“You mean I was a foolish old woman pretending to be a fangirl?” Rose sighed. “I just can’t believe he’s gone. I mean, have you read his Malone Bay series? The man was a painter with words. I wish I could be half as good as he is, I mean, was.”
“I read a few of his books. He was an amazing writer. The literary world will be a sadder place without him.” Cat patted Rose’s hand. “Besides, you weren’t out of line, I’ m sure he appreciated when you told him how much you loved his work.”
“I’m not sure. I snuck over to his table the other day at the library and he seemed miffed I was interrupting his work on the new novel. When I asked if it was going to be set in Malone Bay, he told me it was a whole new project for him. Kind of a kiss-and-tell book.” Rose shrugged. “Then he asked me to leave him alone so he could get back to work.”
“That seems kind of harsh,” Cat observed, still watching Daisy and Professor Turner. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought the older professor was flirting. Turner was the old maid of the English department. Cat couldn’t think of a time he’d even dated. Michael used to make fun of him after faculty dinner parties, wondering about the man’s non-existent sex life.
“No, it was totally appropriate. As a fellow writer, I should have respected his privacy.” Rose pondered an idea, then shook her head sadly. “I guess his memoir will never be finished now. It’s a great loss to all of us.”
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Professor Turner clapped his hands, and Cat felt Daisy standing beside her.
“I’m in your seat.” Cat popped up and moved so the woman could return to her seat.
Daisy shook her head. “I’m sure there’s enough room on the couch for the three of us. Professor Turner is just so fascinating; you must join us.”
Cat glanced at the balding man in front of the room. Fascinating was not a descriptor that she would ever use for the Hemingway scholar. “Sorry, I’ve got things that must be done. I’ll see you all after your library time this afternoon.”
She wound her way to the back of the room and disappeared through the pocket door just as Turner started up. Maybe next session she should ask one of the other professors who were more interested in popular genres to speak. Maybe Hemingway was too literary for a group of writers who were more interested in finishing their manuscripts.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Seth’s voice interrupted her mental “what if ” gymnastics.
“I think you’d be overpaying a bit.” Cat laughed and nodded to the stairs. “You in the attic today? I haven’t seen you before now.”
“Actually, I just got here. Had an emergency house call over at Amy’s this morning.” Seth leaned against the doorway, watching her.
“Amy Potter?” Cat raised her eyebrows.
He nodded. “You remember Amy? She was a couple years behind us in school. Real popular.”
“Mostly because she was real easy.” Cat cocked her head. “What kind of problem was she having this early in the day?”
“The pipes in that old house she inherited from her grandmother. I’ve told her several times it would be cheaper to tear everything out and redo the system, but she keeps piecemealing things together. I guess she likes having me around.” Seth played with the hammer in his tool belt. Taking it out and twirling it like the tool was a six-shooter and Seth was playing a bit part in a cheesy spaghetti western.
“That’s the rumor around town.” Cat watched Seth’s face for any reaction but the guy was cool as a cucumber. Or a radish. The saying didn’t make sense anyway; she might as well change the vegetable to something she liked to eat.<
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“Jealous? Already? We’ve only been on one date since you got back.” He slipped his hammer back into the clip on his belt. “You never were this possessive in high school.”
“I’m not possessive and I’m not jealous. You can visit whoever you’d like. It’s so not my business.” Cat glanced at the kitchen door standing open. She’d been sure it had been closed earlier when she’d walked into the foyer. Their conversation had an audience. “Look, I’ve got to get busy. Thanks for taking the guys out last night. I’m sure they loved visiting the casino.”
“Some of them a little more than others. I think Rose lost her entire pension check at the blackjack table. She was a little grumpy on the drive home.” He walked to the stairs. “Let me know if you want to talk. I’ll be upstairs in that steaming hot attic. We really need to talk about getting a second air conditioner set up for the upper floors.”
Cat watched as he sauntered up the stairs, his Levi’s tight on his butt. When she noticed him watching her watch him, she blew out a breath and stomped into the kitchen. She needed to get these hormones under control and fast. Seth would be in the house daily until the work was done and that seemed to be longer every day.
As she entered the kitchen, Shauna skittered to the sink.
“Eavesdropping isn’t polite, you know.” Cat poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been cleaning up the kitchen.” Shauna turned toward her, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
“I saw the kitchen door open.” Cat held up her hand. “I don’t want to fight; I’m here to plan out the next few days. Our stalker guy is staying so we have almost a full house, minus Tom, of course.”
“Add in his wife, and we are back to being full. I sure hope Seth’s able to finish up that second wing soon. Or do you have him focused on the library?” She sipped her own coffee as she joined Cat at the table.
“He’s working in the library, and I think I’ll have him stay there until next week when we don’t have any guests. I kind of like this three-weeks-off, one-week-on schedule. If we can afford it, this will give me time to write in between the sessions.” Cat opened up her retreat planner notebook and scanned the schedule for the full week.