Secrets, Lies & Love

by Roseanne Dowell

  She flew down the steps, went in the kitchen and grabbed a quick cup of coffee. "Morning, Aunt Clara."

  "Would you like some breakfast?"

  "No, thanks, coffee is fine."

  "I made blueberry muffins." Aunt Clara held out the platter as if to tempt Meghan.

  It worked. She took a muffin from the dish, grabbed a napkin and sat down at the table.

  "These are delicious," Meghan said after she swallowed a big bite.

  "Glad you like them. I'll pack up a few." Aunt Clara put four muffins in a plastic bag. "You can take them to Patrick. They'll be good for a mid-morning snack."

  Meghan finished her muffin, stood and took the bag from Aunt Clara. "Thank you." She kissed the woman's cheek and turned to leave. "Oh, I won't be here for dinner again. I'm going to my house to start cleaning. I probably won't be home until late."

  Meghan drove to school, marveling at the beauty of the day. Something about this town brightened her spirits. She'd never felt so light-hearted, even in college. Of course, the prospect of seeing Patrick didn't hurt. She pulled into the parking lot and parked next to his car, a beat up old Chevy. She swore it was the same car he had back in high school.

  Patrick met her at the door. "Good morning." He leaned down and brushed her cheek with a kiss. Already, the day started out better than she'd ever imagined.

  "Are you ready to work?"

  "That's what I'm here for."

  "Good." Patrick handed her a stack of thick folders. "Go through these registration forms and make class lists for each grade. Make copies of each list for Mrs. Devin for the cafeteria and Mrs. Sardis, the school nurse.

  Meghan took the folders and flipped through them. Looked easy enough.

  "When you're done with that, you'll have to go through the lists, find the new students, and make permanent records for them. When we get their transfers and school records, you'll put them in the folders. Any questions?" Patrick grinned at her.

  "No, I got all that. But I do have a favor."

  "Sure, what?"

  "I have to call Harry, and I was hoping I could meet with him on my lunch hour. Oh..." Meghan snapped her fingers. "I almost forgot. I have to meet with Mr. Blake today too. I'll see if I can arrange to meet with them both at the same time."

  "Sure, no problem." The phone rang, and Patrick went to answer it.

  Meghan found Harry's number and called to set up an appointment then she called Mr. Blake. Fortunately, she arranged both appointments during her lunch hour. Hopefully, Harry could fix the windows today. She took out the notebook Mrs. Fields had left and turned on the computer. God bless the woman, she had most of the class lists already complete. Meghan added the new students and removed the ones transferring out. She made labels for the folders and filed them. Patrick stayed in his office.

  At twelve o'clock, she turned off the computer. "I'm leaving now." She knocked on Patrick's door and peeked inside. "I shouldn't be long."

  Patrick looked up. "No problem, I'll see you when you get back."

  It only took her a few minutes to drive to the Rowlings' house. Harry's truck sat in the drive. Good, she liked promptness. He came around the side of the house. A short little man, maybe five foot six, about thirty-five, give or take a few years. Blond crew cut hair.

  "I hope you don't mind. I took the liberty of checking the place out. Needs a lot of work." He extended his hand and shook hers. "Harry Butler and you must be Meghan Shelby. I've heard a lot about you."

  She just bet he had. "Nice to meet you, Harry." He had nice eyes. Reddish brown, the color of chestnuts, and they held an impish twinkle. There was something childish about him, something mischievous, like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He seemed easygoing but very professional.

  "So I'd imagine you want those windows fixed first thing and the shutters, right?"

  "That's the first order of business. Can you fix them today by any chance?"

  "Sure, I can do the windows this afternoon. The shutters look like they just need new hinges. I'll see if I can find some to match the originals. Otherwise, for a temporary fix, I'll use new ones. I'd hate for them to fall off completely."

  "Good, because I need to take some pictures. I'm applying to put the house on the National Historic Registry. I have to send pictures with the application."

  "Uh...what about the porches? I can't possibly have those fixed today."

  Meghan laughed. "I didn't expect you too. If I take the pictures from the right angles, I can make them look good. If I have to, I'll work a little magic in Photoshop. So, will you work up an estimate for me? I think the porches are next on the agenda. Then we'll start inside. Do you know a good electrician?"

  Harry rubbed his chin. "Sure, I'll get started on those windows and shutters right away. Shouldn't cost too much for a couple pieces of glass and hinges. I'll see if Walter Anderson is available. He's reasonable, and he's a good electrician."

  "Great." A car pulled into the driveway. Probably Mr. Blake.

  Meghan turned to meet him and stopped. "Oh, I want the locks changed today, too," she said over her shoulder.

  "Will do. I'll drop the new keys at the school," Harry said.

  "Thanks."

  "Miss Shelby, I'm Carl Blake." Carl walked toward her and extended his hand.

  "Mr. Blake, nice to finally meet you." Meghan shook his hand. Carl Blake had a grade-school boyishness about him, even though she knew he was in his mid-fifties. When he smiled, his forehead wrinkled above dark, bushy eyebrows. He wore a dark suit, too heavy for the hot August weather. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. He shook her hand with a firm grip.

  "Call me Carl, please." Carl nodded toward the house. "Not quite what you remember is it?"

  "Not quite. But I've already hired someone to fix the windows and change the locks. I think it can look grand again."

  "Yes, I see you hired Harry Butler. He does good work. Uh...can we go inside a minute? I have some papers I'd like you to sign, and then the house is officially yours."

  "Sure." Meghan led the way to the back door. "Be careful of the steps. They're next on the agenda to be fixed."

  Carl followed her. "Are you really going to live here?"

  His shudder wasn't lost on Meghan. Okay, so right now the place still smelled. A good scrubbing with bleach and it'd be fine in no time. "Actually, I'm hoping to move in tomorrow. I'll start cleaning tonight, and I won't have to run back and forth between the Inn and here."

  "I see." Carl looked around for a clean spot to set his briefcase.

  "Besides, I'll save money that way too." Meghan wiped the table with a towel she found in a drawer. Who cared that Carl Blake disapproved.

  "You are aware the town council is trying to condemn the place and tear it down, aren't you?"

  Carl slid his finger along the inside of his collar and looked uncomfortable.

  "Yes, I've heard that rumor. I'm not about to let that happen."

  "Good. I'd hate to see this old house torn down. It was a beauty in its day." Carl took a folder from his brief case and pulled out some legal papers. "If you'll just sign these, I'll file them with the court today, and the house is all yours."

  Meghan took the pen he offered and signed where he indicated.

  "Okay, we're all set. I wish you the best of luck. This is a big undertaking, I hope you see it through."

  "Thank you, Mr. Blake, uh, Carl. I will. I appreciate you stopping by."

  After Carl left, Meghan hurried back to work. She could hardly wait to go home and made a mental note to pick up some cleaning supplies and a bucket. Aunt Beth probably had them somewhere, but she'd just as soon pick up new and save time looking for them. Hopefully, Harry would be able to start work on the porches soon. Most of the stuff inside, she could handle on her own as far as the cleaning. She'd see about hiring the high school kids to paint.

  She hurried into the school. There was still a lot of work before the day ended. Patrick met her at the door.

 
"Everything go okay?" He kissed her cheek and put his arm around her as they walked into the office.

  Heat spiraled inside her. If Patrick had any idea what he did to her, he didn't show it. His arm draped casually over her shoulder, as if they were just good friends. Even the kiss was friendly, not passionate. She took a deep breath before she answered, not trusting herself to speak.

  "Everything's all set. Harry is fixing the windows and changing the locks today, and all the legal papers are signed. I officially own the Rowlings' house."

  "Good, glad that's settled. If you need any help, I'm only a phone call away."

  "I might just take you up on that offer. I'm going there tonight to scrub the kitchen. I want to move in tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow?" The look on Patrick's face said more than his words. "That house isn't habitable."

  "It'll be easier that way. I can't run back and forth. Once I get the smell out, it'll be fine. Besides, it's furnished."

  Patrick looked thoughtful. "I don't have a good feeling about you staying there yet. How about you stay with me and Olivia?

  Stay with him? Was he out of his mind? Even with Olivia in the house, there was no way she trusted herself. He evoked too many emotions in her. Nope, no way. She'd be in his bed in no time. And that wasn't going to happen without a commitment. "I think it's best if I stay by myself. Besides, I don't want to leave it empty. I do appreciate the offer though."

  "Can't say I didn't try." Patrick's smile lit his eyes. "Call me if you need anything." He wrote his number on a paste-it-note and handed it to her. "Just for the record, I live across the street."

  "Across the street?" Too near for comfort. Why hadn't he told her that before? Not that it mattered. Across the street, a mile away, she knew he'd be there if she needed him. Actually, knowing he was that close made her feel better. Safer.

  "Yeah, in the big Italianate style house. I've been renovating it for years."

  "Ah, so you know the ropes. Good. I'll definitely take advantage of your expertise. I always loved that house, almost as much as Gran's."

  "Come over any time."

  The bell rang, signaling someone at the door. Meghan headed for the intercom.

  "I'll go," Patrick said. "You get back to work. We still have a lot to do for final registration day and next week the teachers arrive. They'll want those lists."

  Later, Meghan turned off the computer and straightened up her desk. She couldn't wait to go home, change and get to work. Not that she looked forward to scrubbing. She didn't. Cleaning was never her favorite thing. But she'd do what needed to be done.

  "I'm leaving now, Patrick," she said as she took her purse out of the locker. "I'll see you Monday."

  Patrick came out of his office and kissed her cheek. "I can guarantee you'll see me before Monday. In fact, you'll probably see me tonight."

  "Good. Come prepared to work." Meghan took her car keys out of her purse and laughed.

  "Deal, and if you're really nice to me, I might just bring you dinner."

  "Don't tell me you can cook too?" The man never ceased to amaze her.

  Patrick laughed. "Actually I can, but Mildred Tupper, my housekeeper, usually makes dinner on weekdays.

  "Cheater." Meghan grinned. "Okay, I'll see you later, and I look forward to dinner."

  * * *

  After Meghan left, Patrick straightened up his desk and made a last round of the school, checking to make sure windows were locked and all doors secure. As he rounded the corner toward the front door, someone rang the bell. He looked at his watch. Four o'clock, late for a parent. He hurried to the door and let out a small groan.

  Hilda Richardson stood on the other side. Even now, she had a way about her that made him feel like he was in sixth grade again. She had to be, by far, one of the strictest, crabbiest teachers he'd ever met, and he'd met a lot over the years. Whatever she wanted couldn't be good. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

  "Mrs. Richardson, what can I do for you?" He tried to maintain a smile, though it was difficult. She was here to complain about something, he had no doubt.

  "Patrick Michael MacShaunessy, I'm ashamed of you."

  Hilda's head bobbed while she talked, causing her gray ringlets to bounce. She wagged her finger at him. Her piercing eyes and the way she pursed her lips caused him to shudder, even now. A long lecture was about to ensue. If only he could think of a way to avoid it without offending her. Hilda Richardson was not someone you wanted as an enemy. Not that she had many friends, but it was good to have her on your side.

  Before he had a chance to answer, she went on. "You're supposed to set an example for our young people, not corrupt them with your shenanigans. Harrumph. You're the talk of the town with that new secretary of yours. Harrumph. Shame on you, carrying on like that. Harrumph. I swear, where are the morals of young people today? In my day a man didn't touch a woman in public, let alone kiss them." Hilda tapped her foot as she spoke, and continued waving her finger in front of his nose.

  Patrick tried to think of something to say. Hell, Hilda might be in her seventies, but it wasn't that old to be so old-fashioned. He'd seen pictures of his grandparents where they held hands and kissed in public. Not that he was going to say that to Hilda. Not in this lifetime. He'd rather not suffer any more of her wrath. Not to mention, she'd rant and rave for hours if he dared. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Richardson. I didn't realize anyone saw us. I can assure you, it won't happen again."

  No one had been around when he started the kiss. Hell, they were in the privacy of Meghan's living room the first time, and how did he know the boys would take that moment to walk in on them. Besides, it was only a kiss. He held back the laugh that formed in his throat. Crabby old woman had nothing better to do than listen to gossip and run around admonishing people. He wasn't the first, and he surely wouldn't be the last. Hopefully, something new would come up for the town's people to gossip about.

  "Well, I certainly hope not. You'd do well to steer clear of that woman. She's no good, just like her mother. No good will come of you hiring her. You should have hired that nice Mrs. Wilson. Harrumph". Hilda walked away still mumbling. "Hiring an outsider. What were you thinking? The very idea."

  Patrick stood and watched her. Typical Hilda, said her piece and didn't wait for a response. Hiring Susan Wilson would have been the mistake. Susan had serious issues, couldn't handle stress, let alone multi-task. Poor woman lost her husband two years ago. Left her with a son and a daughter. They had to move in with Susan's folks to make ends meet. Every job she had, she lost. Susan needed a nice quiet job she could do at home, not a job where teachers and kids made demands on you every day. No, hiring Susan would have been a disaster. Besides, she had a crush on him since grade school, and it wasn't one he wanted to pursue or encourage. Nope, Meghan was the right choice all the way around.

  Patrick locked the door behind him and walked to his car, Hilda in full view. He had gotten off easy, no long lecture about morals this time. He shook his head, got in his car and coaxed it to start, while turning the key. "Come on, baby, don't fail me now." The engine cranked, but wouldn't start. He pumped the gas pedal twice and turned the key again. It took a few seconds, but it fired up. He loved this car. Sure, he could afford a new one, but he liked this one. It had served him well these past fifteen years. First car he ever owned. Proud as a peacock the day he got his driver's license and bought it. Used every penny of his savings account to pay for it. But it was worth it. Granted, it didn't look too good now, and Payton had hated it. She had complained about it on more than one occasion. Even refused to ride in it, once she got her Buick. He supposed by now she was driving a BMW or some exotic sports car. She had made quite a success for herself since their divorce.

  He put the old Chevy in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. One of these days he'd have to give in and buy another car. Funny, he hadn't thought about Payton in a long time. She didn't keep in touch, never asked to see Olivia or even called to talk to her. Guess she just wasn't cut out fo
r motherhood. Something about that seemed unnatural to him. Some men and women just didn't care for kids. He shook his head. Now Meghan, on the other hand, said she loved kids. He couldn't wait for her to meet Olivia. Would Olivia like Meghan? He thought so. He had no doubt Meghan would like Olivia. How could she not? Everyone loved Olivia. Okay, he was prejudiced, but still.

  Chapter Eight

  Meghan parked in front of Sam's Hardware store and hurried inside. The place hadn't changed a bit. Still smelled like oil and tools. Sam carried everything from farm gear to cleaning products. Still had the original oak counters, the knives and hunting supplies were still enclosed in glass cases. Her shoes squeaked on the polished, old wood floors. Fishing rods lined one wall next to plumbing supplies, old-fashioned wash tubs and scrub boards. Sam even carried the screw type fuses and glass door knobs. Meghan walked past the garden tools and found the pails and cleaning supplies. "Let see, I need pails, gloves, sponges, pine cleaner, bleach, window cleaner, darn I should have made a list."

  "Excuse me. Did you say something?" Harry suddenly appeared next to her.

  "Huh? I'm sorry I was talking to myself. Trying to figure out everything I need to start cleaning."

  Harry laughed. "I do it all the time. I'm glad I ran into you. I'm picking up the glass for your windows now. I fixed the shutters, and of course you know I changed the locks. I assume Mac gave you the keys."

  "Yes, he did. Thanks. So, the windows will be fixed tonight?"

  "Just as soon as I get back. Uh, I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of rolling up the old rug from the living room. I'll dispose of it if you want."

  The rug, Meghan hadn't given it much thought. "Thanks, I don't mind at all. Do you think it can be salvaged?"

  "I don't know much about stains. The rug is in pretty good condition otherwise. I'll ask my uncle, he used to clean carpets for a living."

  "Thanks, I'd like to keep the rug if I can. I know its old, but it kind of goes with the house."