Lost Melody

by Lori Copeland

  Rowena glanced up, but her gaze didn’t connect with Jill’s. “Hi, Jill. Can I pour you a cup of coffee?”

  Jill gave a sarcastic blast of laughter. “I don’t think so. I’d be afraid to drink it.”

  Rowena’s eyebrows inched up and disappeared beneath fluffy bangs. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t try that innocent act on me.” Jill put steel in her voice. “At least have the courage to admit what you did.”

  Rowena’s head tilted upward, her nose high in the air. “You’re obviously upset about something, though what that has to do with me I have no idea.”

  “Oh?” Jill pointed toward the television screen. “And I suppose you didn’t see the news report a few minutes ago.”

  The woman’s glance circled the room behind Jill. “We saw it. But you can’t seriously think I had anything to do with that.”

  Jill inflated her lungs with an outraged breath, ready to let go with a verbal blast that would knock this Jezebel on her well-padded behind, but the bell mounted on the top of the door jangled, and a shout stopped her.

  “Jill!”

  She turned to see Greg striding toward her, his face bright red, his chest heaving to draw in noisy gulps of air. Good. This concerned him, too, so he needed to be here.

  “I see you got my message.”

  He reached her side and stopped for a moment, doubled over with his hands resting on his thighs, and drew in huge breaths. When he could speak, he straightened.

  “What is going on here?”

  “That double-crossing snake,” Jill pointed at Rowena, “sold the video of Monday night’s meeting to CBC in order to make me look like a lunatic.”

  “I did no such thing.” The glare Rowena shot at her melted into an endearing plea when she turned toward Greg. “She’s obviously not thinking clearly.”

  “CBC?” Greg raked fingers through his hair, his expression confused. “What video?”

  “You didn’t see the news about twenty minutes ago?”

  “No, I was meeting with a client.”

  “Well, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be able to catch it again this evening.” She folded her arms across her chest with a jerk and glared at Rowena. “Compliments of your campaign manager.”

  Rowena didn’t answer, but her expression shouted denial louder than words.

  Not a sound came from anyone else in the room as the women commanded the attention of everyone. The table of fishermen in the far corner actually turned their seats around so they could watch the show without craning their necks.

  Jill ignored them and fired an accusation across the counter. “You can’t deny that video is the one you took. It was shot from the center of the front row, exactly where you sat in front of Greg in your low-cut blouse, flashing cleavage under his nose.”

  Someone behind Jill tried to stifle a laugh, and Rowena’s eyes opened wide.

  Greg put a hand on Jill’s back and said in a low voice full of warning. “Jill. Don’t do this.”

  She rounded on him. “Watch the news, Greg. You’ll see that video can only be hers.”

  “It did look like my video.” Greg and Jill both jerked their heads toward Rowena, who winced. “It had to be, since I was the only person in the front row filming the meeting.” Her chin shot up and she stared directly at Jill. “But I didn’t give it to CBC. Someone stole it from me.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  Greg ignored Jill’s sarcastic comment and asked. “Someone broke into your house?”

  Rowena’s teeth appeared to clamp down on one corner of her lower lip as she shook her head. “I had the little disk thingy here to give to you. But I forgot when you were here Tuesday night, so I set it on the shelf so I’d remember to give it to you yesterday.” She pointed to a curio shelf hanging on the wall beside the register stand. “But you didn’t come in yesterday.” Her gaze flicked briefly to Jill’s face and then returned to Greg’s. “When I saw the news, I looked for the disk. It’s gone.”

  “Well, that explains it.” Greg heaved a relieved sigh. “Who knew it was there?”

  Rowena shook her head. “Could have been anyone from Tuesday to last night. Half of the Cove’s been in here, and that shelf is in plain sight.” She arranged her features into an expression of pained innoncence. “I’m so sorry, Greg. I would never do anything to embarrass you. You know that, right?”

  “I know you wouldn’t, Rowe.” Greg turned a smile toward Jill. “See? We’ll get to the bottom of this and figure out who did it. Maybe the television station will tell me where they got it.”

  Jill’s mouth dropped open. How could he be so gullible?

  “Surely you don’t buy that baloney. Someone just happened to see a disk lying on a shelf, and they just happened to decide to steal it with no idea of what was on it? She’s lying, Greg.”

  Rowena’s spine stiffened to the point that her chest stuck out even farther than usual. “It just happened to be in an envelope with ‘Greg’s Video’ written clearly on the front. Anyone who went to that meeting Monday night and saw me doing the recording would know what was in the envelope.” Her expression hardened. “I think you’d better leave, Jill.”

  Now it was Jill’s turn to stiffen. “Not until I get to the bottom of this.”

  The weasel spoke to Greg without removing her glare from Jill. “Greg, this is my property, and I can serve whoever I want. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble than you already have, but if she’s not out of here in thirty seconds, I’m calling William.”

  Jill gasped. William Akers was the local law enforcement officer. That woman wouldn’t dare have her arrested.

  “Come on, Jill.” Greg slipped a hand under her arm and tugged.

  “No.” She tried to shake him off, but he held fast. “You didn’t see —”

  “Later,” he snapped.

  Muscles tensed in his rigid jaw as he pulled her toward the door. Jill had seen Greg angry several times, but never had the full weight of his anger been directed toward her. The sight of his face threw icy water on the smoldering fury that had burned in her since seeing the news broadcast. She shut her mouth and allowed him to lead her outside as every head in the café turned to watch their progress.

  On the sidewalk, while traffic zoomed by on Harbor Street, he faced her. “What were you thinking? You called Rowena a liar to her face, in front of a room full of customers.”

  Okay, probably not the most tactful way to handle the situation, but that didn’t make her wrong.

  “Greg, she is lying. I know it. Maybe she didn’t give that video to CBC, but she knows who did. She probably even put it there by the cash register on purpose, so someone would take it.”

  He threw his head back toward the sky, fingers raking through his hair. “Why would she do that? She’s my number-one supporter. Why would she want to make me look bad?”

  “She doesn’t. She wants to make me look bad. She’s after you, Greg. I can’t believe you don’t see that.”

  He glanced at the windows, and slipped his arm through hers. “Come on. We’ll talk about this later. You can give me a ride back to the office.”

  The gesture might appear to onlookers like reconciliation, but the stiffness in his arm told Jill he wasn’t happy. She followed his gaze and saw at least a dozen faces staring at them through the café windows. Greg was right. They should talk about this later, in private. Then she could convince him that Rowena Mitchell was not the innocent campaign supporter he thought she was.

  Chapter 19

  JILL DROPPED GREG OFF AT his office barely in time for his next meeting. He left, after extracting a promise that she wouldn’t return to the café. Feeling like a child who had been chastised, she gave her word and left.

  A group of people lined the sidewalk in front of Nana’s house. Her pulse picked up speed at her first thought that something had happened to Nana and a crowd had gathered to watch her being carried away on a stretcher. But there were no emergency vehicles in sight. When she pull
ed into the driveway and shifted into Park, the crowd migrated toward her and surrounded her car. At least three cameras flashed in her face through the window.

  This was not good.

  For a moment she considered putting the car in Reverse and leaving. But that would be cowardly. She’d started this snowball rolling downhill when she took the microphone in Greg’s meeting. She had to see it through, no matter how gigantic it grew.

  Resigned, she twisted the key in the ignition to shut off the engine and dropped the keys into her purse. After a pause to steel herself, she opened the door and stepped outside.

  More cameras flashed. People called her name. A woman directly in front shouted her question to be heard above the din of the others.

  “Miss King, can you tell us what’s going to happen on Tuesday?”

  Jill shook her head. “All I know is that we have to evacuate the Cove before ten in the morning.” She took a sideways step toward the house.

  The woman jumped in front of her. Anxiety carved deep creases in her face. “All of the Cove, or just certain parts of it? I live all the way out on Schooner Circle. Do you think I’ll be okay there?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything else.” She edged past the woman.

  “But what about people who can’t leave?” Another lady, older than the first, caught her in a frightened gaze. “I don’t drive, and my husband is out at sea for another week and a half.”

  Jill opened her mouth, but closed it again. She had no advice to give. Shaking her head, she pushed between two people and gained a few steps toward the porch.

  “You can ride with me,” the first lady said. “Just pack light because I’ll have two kids in the car too.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” shouted someone from the rear of the crowd. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  A derisive laugh sounded from nearby. “Yeah. She’s as loony as Daffy Duck.”

  When the two women who’d just arranged to evacuate together turned to argue with the crowd, Jill shot between them and dashed up the porch steps. The door handle refused to turn. Locked.

  “Don’t leave!” someone yelled. “I have more questions.” Heart thudding loudly in her ears, Jill shook her head. How could she answer their questions when she didn’t know anything else? She dug in her purse for her keys. Why hadn’t she kept them in her hand?

  “Loony tunes.” The first man’s shout was met with laughter.

  A high-pitched warbling wail rose mockingly over the laughter. Jill’s stomach gave a queasy lurch. She recognized that sound.

  The front door opened, and a pair of hands jerked her inside. The door slammed behind her and Nana slid the deadbolt into place.

  “Hooligans.” Her darkly reddened lips were pursed into an angry kiss. “They’ll be gone soon. I’ve called the police. Are you okay, Jill?”

  Jill rubbed her arms with her hands and willed her heartbeat to return to normal. She nodded. “They called me a loony tune, and somebody started making the sound of a loon. It sounded just like Katharine Hepburn in On Golden Pond.”

  Nana shook her head, her features scrunched with disgust. “At a time like this, we get a kook on our front porch doing bird impressions.” She put an arm around Jill and sent her toward the living room with a gentle push. “Go on in and help the girls finish up those signs. I’ll get you some hot tea.”

  Jill glanced at the door. Beyond the frosted glass, dark figures moved in the yard. At least two of the people out there believed her. They were making plans to evacuate even though she couldn’t give them any details, while the others would stay in the Cove on Tuesday, gambling their lives on the fact that she was crazy.

  With a shudder, she joined the ladies in the living room.

  Greg pulled his car into Ruth’s driveway and parked behind Jill’s. Across the street, a small cluster of people stood watching him. What was going on? The sky was dark, and behind the crowd a cold wind whipped the harbor against the rocky shore. He slid out of the driver’s seat and stood, trying to make out their faces. A camera flash went off, followed quickly by a second.

  Reporters, or just curious gawkers? He didn’t wait around to find out, but dashed across the walkway and up the porch steps. The door was locked again. Now he understood why. He punched the doorbell with a glove-encased finger.

  The porch light came on. Inside, a figure topped with fiery red hesitated on the other side of the frosted glass.

  “Ruth, it’s me.” He raised his voice to penetrate the door.

  “Greg.”

  The lock clicked, and the door cracked open just enough to let him step through.

  “What’s all that about?” He waved toward the people outside as she relocked the door.

  “They’ve been there all day, waiting for Jill to come out. There were a bunch more earlier, and on this side of the street. Trampled down the snow and turned my yard into a muddy mess.” Ruth frowned. “The police told them they had to get off our property or they’d be arrested, and that made them leave. But as soon as the officers left, they came back.” She glared toward the door. “I hope they freeze into Popsicles out there.”

  Greg arranged his features to appear calm. If he looked less than one hundred percent supportive, she might turn that Medusa stare on him.

  “Where’s Jill?” He glanced toward the living room.

  “She’s upstairs in her apartment.”

  He left Ruth and headed up the narrow stairs. He’d dreaded this conversation all day. Like a coward, he hadn’t called Jill even during the few breaks in his busy meeting schedule. What could he say? She was clearly wrong about Rowe. He’d stopped by to apologize on the way over, and was relieved to find the café owner generously willing to accept his explanation that the stress of this dream thing had Jill acting out of character. All afternoon he’d expected a call informing him that Rowe was pulling her support for his campaign. Not that he would blame her.

  Soft music reached his ears halfway up the stairs and grew louder as he approached the apartment door. An orchestra played the familiar strains of “Silent Night” on the stereo in Jill’s front room. He crossed the kitchen, then stopped in the doorway, his breath momentarily snatched away.

  A dozen burning candles filled the room with soft, flickering light. In the corner, multicolored lights twinkled on the Christmas tree, whose branches were covered with glittering ornaments. Jill stooped to rummage inside a box on the floor in front of the tree. She wore jeans and a bright red Christmas sweatshirt with a dancing reindeer on the front. He remembered that sweater from two years ago. The color complemented her dark hair and creamy skin, and made her eyes gleam. She straightened, and he saw what looked like a thick wad of paper in her hand. With slow, careful movements, she peeled back the layers to reveal a delicate glass ornament. She held it up in front of her face to admire it, and caught sight of him.

  The smile that lit her face burned brighter than any candle. His throat tightened. She was so beautiful.

  “My father gave this to my mother before they were married. He brought it back from overseas.” She turned and hung it in a place of honor, on a branch at eye level in the front of the tree. “After reading his letters, it kind of feels more special. He loved her so much.”

  I love you that much. The words were on the tip of his tongue. But they sounded stupid, sappy, especially after the scene in the café today when he’d dragged her out. He swallowed and said instead, “You decorated your Christmas tree.”

  “I decided it was time.” She bent over the box and pulled out a gold-and-white angel. “You’re just in time to help me put the finishing touch on it. The angel goes on last.” She held it toward him. “Would you?”

  He crossed the room and took the ornament from her. The gauzy, cone-shaped gown was hollow, allowing the topper to rest securely on the uppermost point of the tree. Greg rose on his tiptoes and set the angel in place.

  “There.” Jill took a step back, her eyes glowing with candlelight as she admired her tre
e. “What do you think?”

  Greg didn’t take his eyes off of Jill. “Breathtaking.”

  She slipped an arm around his waist and squeezed. “I meant the tree, silly.”

  “Oh. Yeah, it’s nice too.”

  Grinning, she shoved him toward the sofa. “Have a seat. I’m going to clean up my mess and then I’ll get you a bowl of chili. Nana and I made it, and we saved you some.”

  “Sounds great.”

  If she’d saved supper for him, that meant she wasn’t angry about this afternoon. At least, she wasn’t angry with him. And after finding her like this, glowing with beauty and doing something as normal as decorating a Christmas tree, he was having a hard time hanging on to his determination to be stern.

  “So, I hear you had some excitement today.”

  She stooped to pick up several wads of paper and toss them into the box. “You mean besides becoming a television star and marching into a public place to confront the sneaky snake who made me look like a fool to half of Nova Scotia?”

  Yeah. Not mad at him. “Actually, I was talking about having to call the police to chase the people off your front lawn.”

  “Oh, that.” She dropped the last of the ornament wrappings in the box and folded the flaps closed. When she finished, she leaned over the box for a moment, her head bowed. “Did you see the evening news?”

  “Yeah.” Teresa kept a small television set in the conference room so she could watch her soap opera while she ate lunch in there. “So did my father.”

  The phone call had come within seconds of the end of the news story. Dad had been nearly apoplectic. Greg’s ears still stung from a couple of his juicier words.

  “Greg, I’m sorry.” He heard sincerity in her voice. “I hope you know I never intended for that to happen.” She picked up the box and headed for the kitchen. “I promise the next time I won’t sound like such a nutcase.”

  Her words sank in as she disappeared through the doorway. Greg leaped off the couch and dashed after her, alarm zinging through his brain.