“What about selling the lot that Nana left you?”
Allie was shaking her head almost before the question was finished. “That would be the very last resort. I have plans for that space.”
“Oh?” Kate pictured the wooded chunk of riverfront. “I don’t suppose those plans include a house and a mini Cash or two.”
“Log cabin. Complete with a front porch and matching rocking chairs. So cute it’ll make you hurl.”
The churning in Kate’s stomach had nothing to do with anticipated cuteness.
“Well,” she said briskly as she attacked the wall with her scraper. “How long do you have before you need to... Whoa, what’s this?”
“What’s what?” Allie scooted up beside Kate, who automatically reached as Jamie lunged forward.
“Check this out.” Kate used her nonbaby hand to grab Allie’s finger and run it down the ridge now evident beneath the mangled bits of wallpaper.
“It feels like a frame.” Allie flattened her palms against the wall, patting and tracing the line Kate had uncovered. “Or a...give me the thingy, that’s... Look. It connects to another one down here. And then it goes...” She nudged Kate aside, drawing the scraper along the path she was following, outlining a rectangle that looked about Jamie-sized. “It’s a panel of some kind.”
“I think I read a Nancy Drew story like this once.” Kate eyed the shape Allie had made so obvious.
“What, the mystery of the boarded-up panel?”
“No. The Hidden Window Mystery.”
Allie grinned. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.” Kate knocked on the wall in the center of the shape, then off to the area outside the line. “Hear that? It sounds different. Like this area is—”
“Hollow.” Allie thumped the areas Kate had tried. “Oh, wow. We have to get this scraped so we can see what’s behind here.”
“Maybe Nana had a secret stash,” Kate said as she set Jamie back on his blanket and waved a toy in his face.
“Or maybe it’s Great-grandpa Charlie’s lost treasure.”
Kate’s stomach did a funny little flip at hearing Allie say the words that Kate didn’t dare.
Everyone in Comeback Cove knew the story of Charlie Hebert and the treasure he supposedly found before his untimely death. Officially, everyone was in agreement that it was nothing more than a local legend.
Officially, Kate agreed.
As if to bring her back to reality, Jamie whimpered.
“If Charlie really found something, and if he stashed it here, I think that whoever papered over this cupboard would have found it.”
Allie scowled. “Spoilsport.”
“Just doing my job. Jamie, Jamie, stop fussing. Mommy and Auntie Allie have to solve a mystery. You’re okay. You like tummy time, remember?”
“Do you have another scraper?”
“Down in the crypt.”
Allie made a face. “It’s bad enough that it’s the world’s worst basement. Calling it the crypt doesn’t help.”
Constant damp, old stone walls, frequent critters... “Yeah, but it’s accurate.” Kate thought for a moment. “Boone stashed some tools in the bathroom up here. I bet I could use a screwdriver on the edges. A few scratches shouldn’t hurt, since we’ll be painting over it anyway.”
“That better have been the royal we,” Allie called as Kate headed down the hall.
As soon as she stepped into the bathroom, she knew she’d made a mistake. The air still carried the faint scent of his body wash. His towel, neatly draped over the curtain rod, whispered a reminder that it had been wrapped around that torso she used to embrace. His toothbrush and toothpaste and comb were laid out on the counter in the same positions they used to occupy in his Ottawa bathroom. It was like she had stepped into a strange blend of the past and the present, into a place where satisfaction and frustration seemed to coexist, and for a moment she had to place her palm against the solid door frame to steady herself.
Deep breath, Kate.
It helped for a second. Then she realized she was filling herself with the smells of a freshly showered, eminently lickable Boone, and she closed her eyes to block the assault on her senses.
That was an epic failure, for obvious reasons.
“Screwdriver,” she reminded herself. “Now.”
Once she remembered why she had come into the room, she was able to block out the Boone mementos and zoom in on the toolbox under the sink. She grabbed the screwdriver and sprinted back down the hall, not sure if she was racing toward the mystery or away from temptation.
But as soon as she entered the room, she could tell that work time was over, at least for the moment. Jamie was snuffling and chewing on his hand.
“Crap,” she said with a sigh. “I guess it’s lunchtime.”
“Already?” Allie pulled out her phone. “Shoot. I have to fly. And this was just getting fun.”
“I know. Want me to attack it while he naps, or wait until you can come back?”
“Hey, if you have time, feel free. I’m dying to know what might be here.” Allie grinned. “Even if it isn’t the treasure.”
“Okay. I’ll keep you posted.” Kate scooped Jamie up to her shoulder. “Shhh, shhh, just a minute, little piggy. And I’ll try to come up with some brilliant suggestion about you and Cash.”
“Thanks. Damn, I am seriously late.” Allie bestowed flying kisses on Jamie, then Kate. “Later!”
Kate gave herself a moment to stare at the mystery wall, racking her brain for anything Nana might have said about a hidden cupboard.
“It’s probably nothing, Jamiekins. If someone papered over a cupboard, they wouldn’t leave anything important in it, right? That wouldn’t make sense.”
Jamie squirmed and let out a wail that made it very clear the only hidden containers he cared about were the ones nestled beneath her bra.
Kate shook off the lure of the wall and headed for the stairs.
It was probably nothing, true. But still, she couldn’t wait to show it to Boone.
* * *
BOONE PULLED INTO the parking lot of the hardware store, stopped the car, and allowed himself a moment of pride. He’d made it here without any wrong turns or any guidance other than his own memory and Kate’s hand-drawn map. And not that he would ever tell her, but if Canada’s early explorers had been dependent on her cartography skills, they would never have gotten more than a day’s journey from the coast.
He whistled as he climbed out of the Kate-sized car, stretched and ambled into the store. He was kind of surprised at how cheerful he felt. The visit to the bank had been intimidating, to say the least. He’d spent the last hour seated across from a scary guy who seemed to be wringing every ounce of power he could from his position of loan officer. Though to be fair, Boone had to admit that the situation wasn’t exactly typical.
Hi. Yes, I’d like to borrow a ridiculous sum of money to fix up an old house that I’m listing as my permanent address even though I’ll never really live there. Because I live in Peru, where I work for a nonprofit and make so little money that between these payments and child support, it’ll take me a full year to save up the plane fare to come back and visit my son again. But I swear I’m a good credit risk. Because even though I won’t be living in the house, my heart will.
Boone was pretty sure he was going to have better luck trying to pick up a part-time consulting gig or something else he could do from Peru. But for the moment it was on to round two: finding out where he could get everything he needed for the house repairs.
He spent a few minutes wandering the aisles of the store, acquainting himself with what could and couldn’t be found within. He had a feeling he’d be spending a lot of time here over the next few weeks. He couldn’t help but look at the neatly stocked shelves and overflowing bins and think of what he could do with all of this back
at Project Sonqo. They had made great strides over the last ten years, and he and Craig had learned a lot from the villagers—masters at repurposing ruins into homes. But even so, the contents of this store alone would—
“Can I help you?”
Boone snapped back to reality and focused on a man who looked to be about his age, wearing a polo shirt with Village Hardware embroidered on the front.
“Sure. I’m in town for a few weeks, doing some work on an old house. How much of this do you carry, and where can I get hold of the things you don’t?” Boone handed over his preliminary list. The other man’s eyes widened.
“Looks like you have a project on your hands.”
“That’s one way to describe it.”
“What house?”
Ah. Boone hadn’t spent a lot of time in small towns, but from things Kate had said—usually accompanied by a rueful smile and a roll of her eyes—this was the kind of response he should have expected.
“The Queen Anne on Maple Street. Belongs to Kate Hebert.”
The man frowned. “Katie’s still living in her grandmother’s house? I heard she was going to sell.”
Boone shouldn’t have been surprised. “You know her?”
“Sure. Kate and I were in high school together.” He extended a hand. “Eric McCabe.”
“Jackson Boone.”
The shake was quick, but before it was over, Eric’s eyes had widened.
“Say,” he said, “are you the mysterious husband we’ve heard about?”
Mierda. Kate hadn’t been lying.
“I am.”
“Good to finally meet you. But...didn’t you say you’re only here for a few weeks?”
Boone might not be familiar with small-town politics, but he sure knew when his own line had been crossed. This was it.
“That’s right. So I need to get to this as quickly as possible.” He tapped the list. “What do we need to do?”
Eric tipped his head, then gestured for Boone to follow him to a cluttered workstation at the back of the store. He gestured to a chair that sat in front before pulling up to a computer that looked barely younger than the one Boone used back in Ollanta.
The thought was oddly cheering.
“So, how’s Katie doing?” Eric jotted some figures on a pad of paper. “That little boy of hers—yours—must be keeping her busy.”
“We’re all fine, thanks.”
“It’s good that she’s home again. I know she liked living in Ottawa all those years, but there’s something special about Comeback Cove. Folks can’t wait to leave once they’re done with school, but then they can’t wait to move back when it comes time to raise their own families.”
“Is that what you did?”
Eric laughed. “Nah, I’ve been here all along, except for university. My dad owned this place. It’s in my blood.” His fingers moved slowly over the keyboard. “Seems more and more folks are drifting in, though. Not a week goes by that I don’t have someone from school wandering in here. Always a surprise.” He frowned at the screen in front of him. “Though you could have knocked me over with a feather when Katie came back.”
It struck Boone that this Eric seemed awfully interested in Kate “I’ve never heard anyone else call her Katie. Other than her family, that is.”
“Really? That’s what everyone called her back in school. It suited her, you know?” He shrugged. “Though I guess we all change over time.”
It took Boone a second to understand the emotion building low in his gut. The pit of his stomach churned like the time he accidentally put twice the required ají peppers in his papas rellenas. When he did put a name to what he was feeling, it was so unexpected that he had to give himself a second to be sure.
He was jealous.
Now who was the one who could have been knocked over with a feather?
Eric was rummaging through his desk drawer, muttering something about a calculator. Boone was grateful for the break. He needed a second.
I want to have more kids. I would like to have them with someone I can build a life with.
A new and entirely unwelcome thought hit Boone. Was he sitting across the desk from his replacement?
Oh, hell. He should not have thought that.
“Okay. Here’s what we can do,” Eric said, and Boone made himself focus on shingles and nails and floor tiles and toilets. Eric talked about what they had and what they could order, and Boone nodded and asked questions and tried to keep from thinking about this very helpful, very Comeback Cove guy being the one who might teach Jamie how to tie his shoes. Or cheer for Jamie at soccer games.
Or help give Jamie that brother or sister Kate wanted.
Yeah, keep thinking like that, Boone. That’ll really help with the burning in your gut.
At last they were done. Boone made arrangements to have the supplies delivered and hauled ass out of the store before good old Eric could ask anything else about Kate.
But once he was back in the car, Boone didn’t return directly to the house. Instead, he drove slowly up and down the streets until he saw what he was looking for: a florist shop.
Ten minutes later, he was back in the driver’s seat, a bouquet of mixed flowers at his side and new determination in his head.
He might not be Kate’s forever husband, but he was going to do his damnedest to be the best one possible while he was here.
* * *
KATE SAT ON the porch swing with Jamie, trying to enjoy the unexpectedly mild afternoon, but she couldn’t stop fretting. Why was Boone taking so long?
Yeah, the man could navigate airports and countries and alpaca trails in languages she had barely heard of, but she didn’t trust that he could handle himself on the streets of Comeback Cove. Right.
She needed a plan. In a minute she would put Jamie in his crib for his nap. Then she should head upstairs and resume scraping. If she really worked, she might have the cupboard or whatever completely uncovered by the time she had to turn back into Mommy.
But even though she was dying to know what might be behind the ancient paper, part of her wanted to wait and have Boone help. Because the thing was, she liked Boone. She wanted to spend time with him while he was here. Yes, it was hell on her willpower, but who knew when she would have another adult in residence again?
She rose slowly from the swing, intending to get started on her plan, but at that moment the clouds parted and sunshine poured down, and it was so inviting, such an early summer preview, that instead of going inside she moved to the top step to better soak up the sun.
Oh, that felt good.
She should put on sunblock and her arms ached from scraping, but ten minutes wouldn’t hurt and the ache was the good kind, or so she told herself. Of course, it would be a different story tonight when she tried to sleep. She would have to make sure she took something before bed.
Or you could keep those muscles warm and supple by using them in other ways...
“Not helpful, Kate,” she murmured. Maybe instead of returning to work immediately once Jamie was down, she would come back out here for a while. She could bring her checklist. Or better yet, a book. Not one of the home repair manuals she’d been reading, but something captivating that would suck her in and make her laugh out loud and tempt her to give up precious hours of sleep to get to the end. When was the last time she’d sat down and read for pleasure?
When was the last time she’d done anything for pleasure?
“Again, not helpful,” she ordered herself. But this rogue thought was a lot harder to dismiss.
She rocked slowly on the step, feeling Jamie grow heavier on her shoulder. When was the last time she’d done something just for fun?
She was happy. She knew that. She was healthy, Jamie was thriving, and they had a roof over their heads, plenty to eat and family in town. She was blessed beyond reason. Life
was good.
But she couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something just for her.
Well, no. She could. That day she had impulsively wrapped herself in a white bathrobe, gelled her hair beyond reason to hold the infamous cinnamon-bun shape, and marched into Ottawa’s EY Centre with her head held regally high in her best Princess Leia imitation. That had been fun. Not just because she had met Boone there, though heck, that had morphed into the best time she’d had in ages. But even before she saw him, she’d been having a blast. Kicking back. Mingling with people she didn’t know. Laughing.
“I need more fun in my life,” she announced to the fat robin perched in the maple at the edge of the porch. “Any suggestions?”
The robin hopped out of the tree and down to the grass. Probably hunting for worms.
“Not my idea of a good time, but thanks anyway.”
Because who needed cold worms when you could be heating up the sheets with—
Boone pulled into the driveway. She groaned. Now, he had to show up?
She let her eyes feast on him as he uncurled from the car. The muscled shoulders...the shaggy hair...the hint of stubble on his jawline. His T-shirt was the tiniest bit too small and his jeans were just right and the whole long length of him called to her, teased her, reminded her...
“Hey.” He grinned, shielded his eyes against the midday sun and waved at her. She waved back and started to get up, but caught herself just in time. No standing. Standing led to walking to him, which led to getting close to him, which led to reaching up to smooth his hair, which led to the baby sleeping on her shoulder.
Right. She was staying firmly planted on this step where her Nana had trod.
Then Boone reached into the passenger seat and emerged with an armful of something pink and purple and floral, and even if she had truly wanted to stay put, it wouldn’t have been possible. She was on her feet before she knew it.
“Boone?”
He bounded up the steps. “Hi,” he said, and handed her an assortment of tulips and irises and baby’s breath.
“They’re beautiful,” she whispered, the fingers of her free hand rubbing the velvety petals. “Thank you. But you didn’t need to—”
First Came Baby Page 7