Because he was going to give her information to find a way to find Paige, of course.
"I'll shed my shoes and we can walk the beach," she decided, taking the safer route.
"Give me five minutes to get comfortable and then we'll walk. There's a deck around back. Would you like something to drink?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Be right back."
Emma found cushy chairs and chaises on his deck, but she was too fidgety to sit. Instead, she stood at the railing, looking out at the ocean, wondering if her sister was still alive and if she was, where she was. She'd spent so many hours while Paige had been gone thinking about that—praying, hoping and trying to stay positive. But how could she when such dark visions invaded the others? Paige's car wasn't worth the bald tires it had been running on, so no one would have wanted to hijack her car. Had she had engine trouble again, left the vehicle and started walking? Had someone picked her up and then—
There were those dark thoughts that Emma didn't want to have, but knew she had to be realistic about.
When Linc emerged from the house he wore a blue polo shirt and denim cutoffs. His feet were bare.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Ready to find my sister," she agreed.
She kept her shoes on until they reached the bottom of the wooden steps where grass and sand began. Then she took them off and laid them on the step. Seagrass tickled her legs as they made their way across the sand to the packed beach.
As they walked along the shore, the wind tossing their hair, Linc asked, "Do you believe in things you can't see?"
Her gaze met his. "You mean religion?"
He blew out a breath. "No, that's not what I mean. I'm just going to lay this all out," he said. "If you want to walk back to my house, get in the car and go home, that's fine. But I felt this was an option you should consider."
"You're not talking about a private investigator, are you?" The spray from the ocean misted them as they left their footprints on the shoreline.
"Sort of."
"Linc, I can't afford one. I hired someone the first week after Paige disappeared. But he couldn't find anything and I couldn't afford to have him go on looking. When Barrett died, he didn't have life insurance. It was one of those things he kept putting off doing. Thank goodness I had my business, but with insurance costs and the mortgage, I don't have much left over each month."
Linc stopped and took her arm. Again his touch made her tummy somersault and her pulse race. But she had to focus on what they were discussing, not her reactions to him.
"Emma, this isn't about money. It's about a gift my best friend's wife has. Nathan's wife, Gillian, works with another friend of mine, Jake Donovan. Jake used to be a cop. Then he turned to private investigation. But after he met Gillian, his life changed. For the most part he and Gillian find missing persons, especially lost children. They started a foundation for this purpose. People they've helped have donated a lot of money. Funds just seem to stream in because it's a good cause."
"So Nathan's wife, Gillian, is a private investigator, too?"
"No, she's not. Nathan found Gillian through Jake as a last-ditch effort when his ex-wife disappeared with his daughters. Gillian found them for him. She has a gift. Some people would label her a psychic. She doesn't think of herself that way. She just seems to be able to tune in to missing persons. She gets sensations and feelings and in themselves they're not enough. But when family members are questioned, or Jake does research tracking down information Gillian gets, they've got a 99% success rate."
Emma was astonished by what Linc was telling her. He was a rational businessman and yet he obviously believed in what he called Gillian's gift.
"Let's walk some more," she said to Linc, pulling her arm from his clasp because she couldn't think straight with his hand on her skin.
Silent as they walked, he glanced at her every now and then. She could feel that glance, feel his concern and compassion for her.
Finally she said, "My dad left after Paige was born. We never heard from him again. My mom was really hurt by his abandonment. When she felt hurt, she went to church, taking us with her for the same comfort she found there until she died of breast cancer."
Linc stopped walking again. "I'm sorry."
She could see he wasn't just saying the words, he was sorry. And there was a deeper understanding in his expression that made her wonder about his background. "Thank you. The reason I'm telling you this is—before mom died, she took my hand and she made me promise that I would take care of Paige and if I ever had children that I would take them to church. She thought everyone needed to believe in something outside of themselves, just like she did and just like Paige and I did."
"Do you take Becky to church?"
"I do most weeks. She attends Sunday School while I go to the service. So what I'm trying to say is that I believe in something outside of myself." She looked toward the ocean and waved her hand. "I believe in the power behind this."
Facing him again, she requested, "So tell me more about Gillian."
"The way I understand it, when she was ten she was hit by lightning. It was after that the sensations started to come to her. She's a caring person. She loves her husband and son, and Nathan's daughters accept her as a second mom."
"And she teamed up with a former cop."
"Jake had heard about her, looked into her success rate and then recommended her to Nathan. After she found Nathan's daughters, Jake was a believer."
"Are you sure there's no fee, Linc? I can make a donation, but I don't know how much."
"They don't charge."
"But you've donated to this foundation," she guessed.
"I have. I believe in the work they do."
Emma stared at the sun beginning to set, the sky shot through with pink and orange. She thought about Paige and the empty car and dark nights when she couldn't sleep wondering where her sister was, crying because she was afraid Paige had been hurt, crying because she was afraid she was dead.
"Let's walk back," she said, needing to think about all of this.
Linc didn't initiate conversation as they walked, as gulls screeched, as waves pounded the shore. The tide was coming in, creating puddles in the sand that she was barely aware of as she sloshed through them. Linc stayed by her side, walked where she walked, a force to be reckoned with himself.
She would have kept walking, but Linc tapped her shoulder and pointed to his house across the expanse of loose sand and grass. When they reached the steps, she wiped the sand from her feet and slipped them into her shoes. He let her precede him.
Once they were standing on the deck, she made a decision. The ocean wasn't as loud up here but it still carried a resonant voice, a pounding that was a backdrop.
When she turned to face Linc, for a few moments the sound of the ocean faded away. The brush of the breeze on her face hardly registered because she got lost in his green eyes. But then she remembered why she was here, at his house on the beach.
Her voice was loud and clear above the sound of the surf. "I'd like to meet Gillian."
BUY: http://www.amazon.com/Always-Devoted-Search-Love-ebook/dp/B005KKEILC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1314915184&sr=8-1
Excerpt from TOYS AND WISHES:
CHAPTER ONE
"What in blazes is going on here?"
Lexa Kittredge almost dropped the porcelain figurine she'd lifted from Clare Flannigan's bookshelf. Before she could answer, Clare slipped from behind the desk she'd been dusting.
"Josh! You're back!" She pushed her blue glasses farther up her nose. "Lexa, this is my nephew, Josh Flannigan. Josh, meet Alexandra Kittredge."
Lexa only had time to nod before Clare rushed on, "So how was Colorado, Josh? You deserved that long vacation. Anything exciting happen? Meet any bears?"
Lexa suppressed a smile, recognizing Clare's attempt to turn the focus of the conversation on her nephew, rather than the disordered state of her apartment.
"Aunt Clare, what's going on?"
>
His question was directed at Clare but his gaze was on Lexa. Suddenly she wished they'd opened a window. She hadn't noticed it before, but the heat in Clare's apartment was stifling. Her sweatshirt was sticking uncomfortably to her shoulders. It wasn't supposed to be this hot in Pennsylvania in October, Indian summer or not. Or did the sudden rise in temperature have something to do with Josh Flannigan's piercing blue eyes, the same startling blue as Clare's?
"I'm moving."
Josh's attention flew to his aunt. "You're what?"
Clare climbed onto the step stool to remove books from the top shelf of the bookcase. "I'm moving. Some friends and I have invested in a lovely old house," she explained airily as if she did something like this at least once a week.
Josh's fingers dashed through his shaggy black hair. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"
Lexa set the figurine back on the shelf and took a step forward, deciding it might be time to help Clare explain the situation to her nephew. She offered her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Flannigan. Clare's told me so much about you."
Josh's gaze switched back to her. "And just who are you?"
"Joshua, don't be rude!" Clare scolded.
He took Lexa's hand but also took the time to give her a more thorough looking-over. She didn't have to guess at what he saw. Sweatshirt and jeans. Curly blonde hair that probably looked as if she'd just escaped a stiff wind. Shiny face. "I'm a friend of Clare's."
He dropped her hand. "Since when?"
"Josh..."
"It's all right, Clare. About two months ago Clare came to a workshop I was giving," Lexa explained.
"About?" Josh looked at Clare as if she'd been bitten by some strange bug.
"Senior citizens developing second careers."
"Oh, great. Just what Clare needs when she's finally retired."
"You don't know what I need." Clare's tone matched the fiery hue of her red hair.
"Mr. Flannigan, your aunt has acted very responsibly."
"Where did you get the money?" Josh asked his aunt.
"I had money saved."
Josh's hand slashed through the air. "But that was your nest egg. I don't believe you've done something so...
impulsive."
Clare exploded. "It's about time I'm impulsive if I want to be impulsive."
Lexa took a deep breath. She had to do something to prevent a full-blown fight. "I've directed Clare to an experienced financial advisor."
Josh shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Clare, you can't be serious about moving. You've lived in this apartment all your life. I've lived here much of mine. The rent's always been reasonable, you don't have to worry about mowing grass or shoveling snow." He looked around the room at the chaos. "My God! I go away for six weeks and when I come back, you're packing boxes."
Clare shrugged and took Lexa's place at the bookshelves. She reached to the top shelf for two volumes of poetry. "I'm doing the right thing. Ask Lexa."
Acting as a buffer wasn't Lexa's favorite position. She'd had to do it too many times between her younger sister and their stepmother. But at least she'd had practice. "I think you're doing what you want to do. That makes it right."
Striding toward Clare, Josh took the books from her hand and dumped them into an open carton. His denim jacket emphasized the width of his shoulders, and the snug fitting jeans encased long legs and muscular thighs. He wasn't drop-dead handsome, but even with the beard stubble, he'd certainly do. Do for what? Lexa asked herself, then pushed every possible answer out of her head.
"I want to know where you got this crazy idea," Josh was saying. "Do you know the work you're letting yourself in for? The hassles?"
Clare's eyes threw rebellious darts. "What about the joy? The challenge? The thrill of a new adventure? Just because I'm over sixty, Joshua Flannigan, is no reason to put me out to pasture. I'm still alive and kicking more than ever. Thirty-five years of teaching English to teenagers is not enough to wear me out or put me in a rocking chair."
She pointed her finger at him. "You thought I'd be happy retired, you thought I'd be happy living a life of leisure. Well, if it wasn't for the senior center this past year, I'd have gone crazy! Lexa thinks this is a magnificent idea and I expected more support from you."
Josh pushed his jacket flaps aside and stuffed his hands in his back pockets as if he were considering the best way to reason with his aunt. "Don't you thing you're acting recklessly?"
Lexa squared her shoulders. This was going to be more difficult than she'd expected. "Mr. Flannigan, your aunt came to talk to me because she was bored, because she was feeling useless, because sitting here by herself was making her feel ancient."
Josh's blue eyes were steady and concerned as they swung back to Clare. "Aunt Clare, all you have to do is call me. I can spend more time with you."
"What nonsense!" Clare planted her hands on her hips. "You're thirty-four, You have your own life to live and so do I."
Realizing her presence increased the tension, Lexa stepped forward. "Clare, it might be better if I wait in the other room."
"Don't let Josh chase you out."
Lexa crossed the room. "He's not. I think you two need to hash this out on your own. I'll take down the wall decorations in the living room."
Josh moved aside to let Lexa pass, wondering how to keep his aunt from making the biggest mistake of her life. He cared about her too much to let her put herself in financial jeopardy, let alone create more work for herself than she needed.
Lexa's delicate perfume lingered, teasing him. After weeks of smelling only damp earth and woods, the scent affected him. Or maybe it was her seeming fragility--the big brown eyes, that fluffy blond hair. She certainly looked harmless. So what was she doing meddling in Clare's life?
Josh turned toward his aunt, his black brows pulling together in an effort to concentrate on her problem. "Is a rambling old house going to give you a new life? I think it's going to give you headaches. Think of the money you'll waste on repairs. Something always needs to be fixed in old houses. Who's going to pay for that?"
Clare's tone was defensive. "Lexa says it doesn't need many repairs. The door frames need a fresh coat of paint. That's all."
The last thing he wanted to do was dismiss or hurt Clare's feelings. She had given him a home since he was twelve and he loved her dearly. But the idea of her giving up her nest egg worried him. If Alexandra Kittredge had influenced Clare unduly, there'd be hell to pay.
"How does Lexa know what repairs this house needs?" Josh asked, amazed at the confidence Clare was placing in a stranger who could be a con artist, even if she didn't look like one.
"She knows the real estate agent. She says he's honest and would tell us if anything else was wrong. My partners and I looked at the whole place carefully."
Partners. His aunt was involved over her head; he knew it. "You have no experience dealing with people who might be less than honest. A real estate agent has one thing on his mind--selling. As for your partners, who are they and what do they know?"
Clare's lips tightened. "I do not have the time or inclination to keep arguing with you. I have to be packed in five days."
"Five days? You mean the deal's closed...finished? You did this without consulting me?"
His aunt's voice was even, but silver sparks studded her blue eyes. "I'm an adult. I don't have to consult you. And how could I anyway when you were off in no-man's land back-packing?"
"You could have waited. You knew my timetable."
She gently clasped his arm. "I'm doing this whether you approve or not. We had to move fast on the house. Someone else wanted it. We settle on Friday and I intend to move in Saturday."
Whenever he argued with Clare, he felt as if he was running against the wind. She could be so bullheaded. He wanted what was best for her but he wasn't sure this was it. "You're moving too fast; I don't like the whole thing."
His aunt gave him a pat, then crossed to the desk and picked up a can of furnitu
re polish. "I've made my decision, Josh. You're not going to change my mind so you might as well stop trying. I have a lot to do and not much time to do it. If you're going to help, you're welcome to stay."
Josh closed his eyes for a moment. He was tired. He had driven the last seven hours, anxious to get home, anxious to see how the toy stores were faring without him, anxious to find out what his aunt had been up to. No one had heard him knock, so he'd walked in. He'd never expected this. The deal wouldn't be settled until Friday, so it could still fall through or be cancelled.
"I'm going to talk to Ms. Kittredge."
"You're not going to bully her. This was totally my decision, no one else's."
"I want to know some details."
"So ask me!"
"You're too busy packing."
"Josh--"
"Aunt Clare," he parroted with the same wary intonation.
Clare threw her hands up in surrender. "Okay. But don't make her feel guilty or anything else. She's been an extraordinary help. I wouldn't have been able to do this without her."
Josh believed that. But why had she torn his aunt's life apart? He was determined to find out exactly what Lexa Kittredge had to do with this whole mess, and what kind of influence she obviously held over his aunt.
His footsteps were muffled by the carpet in the hallway. But when he entered the living room, Lexa turned toward him, as if sensing he was there.
She propped the painting she was holding against a sofa arm and sat down next to it. "Clare is sure about the plans she's made."
Josh's expression was grim. "Are they her plans or someone else's?"
Lexa stared up at him and didn't seem to take offense at his protective concern. "They're her plans."
There were smudges of blue under Lexa's eyes. Did she stay up late? Did she live with someone? He glanced at her hand. No ring on her finger. He wondered how she spent her free time and whom she spent it with, then immediately banished the thought.
He had to remind himself she could be manipulating his aunt for some gain of her own. His words were brisk. "Convince me. Convince me that you had nothing to do with her pouring her life savings into an old house, nothing to do with her turning her life topsy-turvy at her age. She said you've been advising her. What gives you that right?"
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