“What do you think of them and what they’re doing?”
Martha sniffed and sat up taller. “Well, it’s not really for me to say.”
Bree highly doubted that. In fact, there was probably very little that Martha couldn’t speak on for hours on end, complete with judgmental commentary. But there were rules of engagement that had to be upheld.
“That’s too bad. I was hoping to glean some valuable local insight.”
“I mind my own business.”
“Of course you do,” Bree soothed. “It’s just that, well, I’ve found there’s always more to a story than meets the eye, and it’s important to paint the whole picture, don’t you think?”
Bree didn’t give her a chance to answer. It was more of a rhetorical question anyway, intended to give the older woman something to think about.
She rose and thanked Martha for the tea. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to lie down for an hour or two. It’s been a long trip.”
With Penny in tow, Martha showed her to her room and told her she had the entire second floor to herself. That suited Bree just fine. Without bothering to undress, Bree stretched her tired body out on the comfy four-poster bed, set the alarm on her phone, and closed her eyes. She was out within seconds.
After two hours that felt more like two minutes, Bree forced herself to get up and move around. Adjusting to a new time zone would be easier if she didn’t sleep the entire day away. A hot shower and a change of clothes helped immensely, and soon, Bree was feeling back to herself again.
Her phone dinged, signaling a new message from a private number. Intrigued, Bree opened it to find it was from Sanctuary, a response to her request for an interview.
Sanctuary: RE: Request for interview. Does tomorrow at noon work for you?
Bree: Perfect. See you then.
Feeling brightened, Bree decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather and familiarize herself with the area. She still wasn’t sure how she was going to fill an entire week.
She found Martha on the front porch, watering the colorful assortment of petunias in hanging baskets, and told her she was off to do some sightseeing.
Bree couldn’t help the smile on her face as she climbed into the sporty red convertible she’d borrowed for the week. The female mechanic had known exactly what would lift her spirits. The Mustang was a little on the showy side perhaps but a huge improvement from the economy-sized rental and so much more fun to drive.
She snapped a selfie, sent it to Toni with a message—Maybe it won’t be so bad after all—and set out to explore.
Sumneyville itself wasn’t big. Located at the base of the mountains, the town proper barely covered two miles. Lots of individually owned businesses lined both sides of the main street, many of which were housed in decorative brick buildings a century old or more. No malls or superstores or major chains to be found; no structure stretched over three stories—with the exception of the hospital on the edge of town.
As she cruised around, she made a mental note of places to visit to gather information from while in town—the library, the salon, maybe the farmers market.
By six o’clock, her growling stomach prompted her to pull into the only restaurant she’d seen—a place called Franco’s. The red-white-and-green striped sign called to her Italian heritage and her longing for authentic cuisine.
“Table for one?” asked the smiling hostess.
“Yes, please.”
Bree breathed in the familiar scents of garlic and spices as the hostess led her to a cozy table near a window.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the woman said, handing Bree a menu. “Our local vineyards are quite good. I can bring you some samples, if you’d like.”
Pennsylvania has vineyards? “That would be great, thanks.”
“Preferences?”
“Surprise me.”
As the hostess walked away, Bree sipped her water and looked around. The majority of the tables were occupied despite being midweek. Some families, a few couples. Some old, some young. It was a nice mix.
The hostess returned with thick, crusty bread and a bowl of herbed oil with roasted garlic for dipping, then recited the dinner specials as Bree sipped the wine samples. The woman was right; they were surprisingly good.
“What do you recommend?”
“Personally, I’m partial to the garlic-butter shrimp pasta, but the chicken Marsala is a local favorite.”
“Garlic-butter shrimp pasta it is and a glass of the house white, please.”
“You got it.” The woman paused. “Are you visiting someone in town or just passing through?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Sumneyville is a small town.”
“I guess so.” Bree laughed, trying to wrap her mind around a place where everyone knew everyone else and could so quickly spot an outsider. Bree wouldn’t recognize half the people who lived in her six-unit apartment building, let alone random people in the town. “I’m here for the week.”
“Mel’s Motel or Martha’s B & B?”
“The B & B.”
The woman nodded in approval. “Good choice. Not that Mel’s isn’t nice,” she was quick to add, “but Martha’s is homier. I’m Carmella, by the way. My husband and I own this place.”
“Bree.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Bree, and welcome. Enjoy your dinner, and if you need anything while you’re in town, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thanks. I will.”
Carmella walked away, leaving Bree wondering if everyone in Sumneyville was as friendly and welcoming as Martha and Carmella or if it was just an act put on for outsiders.
Bree dipped the bread into the herbed oil with roasted garlic. The first bite was nearly orgasmic. She closed her eyes and savored the richness. She decided right then and there that if the rest of the meal was even half as good, it wouldn’t be a hardship to have dinner there for the rest of the week.
While she nibbled, Bree pulled out her journal and jotted down a few thoughts and impressions as well as some ideas for her interview. There would be the standard obligatory questions, of course, covering the basic what, where, who, and why, but anything beyond would depend on what she found when she got there—how she was received, their willingness to share, that sort of thing.
A tingling awareness ghosted over her skin, causing her to pause mid-scribble. She looked up to find the hostess escorting a group of four men and two women to a large table in the back. One of the men in particular caught her attention. She recognized him as the same guy who’d stopped along the road earlier that morning to offer assistance.
He cleans up nice. The white button-down, open at the collar, accentuated the dusky tone of his sun-kissed skin, as did the sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm. His jaw was baby smooth, as if he’d just shaved; his wavy auburn hair looked slightly damp, curling at the ends where it met his broad shoulders.
Two of the men pulled out seats for the women and then sat beside them, suggesting they were together. Her would-be road-rescuer and a good-looking blond guy sat across from each other.
Are they a couple too? she wondered, stifling an odd pang of disappointment at the thought.
A young server with red-tipped hair and kohl-lined eyes brought her meal and caught Bree staring. “Scenic view, right?” she said with a smirk.
Very, Bree thought. “Do you know them?”
The young woman turned to her in disbelief. “Those are the Sanctuary guys—well, some of them anyway. They come in a lot—or at least, they used to.” The server’s lips turned down, suggesting she wasn’t too happy about that. “Do you need anything else?”
Before Bree could ask for another glass of water, the server was gone, smoothing her apron and hair on her way over to the newcomers’ table with an exaggerated sway.
Those are the Sanctuary guys? Nothing at all like the grizzled, middle-aged men she’d pictured.
As if he sensed her gaze, the auburn-haired do-gooder looked up
and right at her. His eyes widened briefly, and then his lips curled upward in recognition.
Bree’s assignment just became a whole lot more interesting.
Chapter Eight
Cage
“Yo.” Doc snapped his fingers in front of Cage’s face to get his attention.
“What?”
“You’re up, man.”
Cage realized the server, Marietta, was staring at him, waiting for him to place his order. He quickly scanned the specials without taking the time to analyze the choices. There was no wrong answer. Over the last couple years, he’d tried everything on Franco’s menu, and it was all good. “I’ll have the pasta special.”
Marietta smiled, reaching over him to retrieve his menu and brushing her breasts against him in the process. He stiffened, the contact decidedly unwelcome but not unexpected. Marietta made a habit of flirting shamelessly with all of them, even the ones clearly spoken for. However, with Sandy and Kate glaring warnings at her with their eyes, Marietta was concentrating her efforts on his and Doc’s end of the table. If he’d been paying attention, he could have handed her the menu, preemptively avoiding the awkward moment.
He looked back over to the pretty brunette, the woman he now knew was the reporter intent on interviewing them. Her eyes were no longer on him but on whatever she was scratching into her notebook.
Doc followed his gaze, casting a look over his shoulder. “Well, hello there.”
Of course, that made the others look, too.
“Friend of yours?” Mad Dog asked Cage.
“Not exactly.”
Had it just been the guys, he might have received some ribbing for that vague nonanswer, and that would have been the end of it. Men respected each other that way. It wasn’t just the guys at the table, however, and the women weren’t as apt to move on without further interrogation.
“I don’t know her,” Sandy commented, turning to Kate. “Do you?”
Kate shook her head. “No. She’s definitely not from around here.”
Gazes expectantly turned back to Cage.
“She’s the woman whose car broke down on the side of the road,” Cage explained.
Heff was the first one to put the pieces together. “That’s the reporter who’s coming to do the interview?”
“Suppose so.”
Doc grinned. “Lucky you. You know, if you’re not up to the task, I’ll do you a solid and be her appointed liaison.”
Cage knew Doc was just giving him a hard time, but the thought of Doc showing the reporter around genuinely annoyed him. “Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.”
“You sure? Because I don’t mind taking one for the team.”
The irrational caveman-like urges tightening his chest were unexpected. “I said, I got it.”
Heff, the fucker, smirked. “Feeling a little territorial there, huh, Cage?”
“Fuck off.”
Heff laughed.
“She’s looked over here twice already. Do you think she knows who you are?” Kate asked. “That you’re with Sanctuary?”
“No,” Cage answered.
Their brief roadside encounter hadn’t included an exchange of personal information, and even if she had done research prior to her arrival, his name and image weren’t part of the Sanctuary public profile. Church and the others were one hundred percent in agreement about keeping their identities and those of their guests private and on a need-to-know basis. People outside of Sanctuary didn’t need to know.
“You should go talk to her,” Sandy prodded.
The arrival of their wings and beer provided a distraction and took some of the heat off of Cage, but he almost wished it hadn’t when Marietta started spewing gossip in that sickeningly sweet voice of hers.
“I hear Luther and Kylie set a date,” Marietta said to Kate, malice dancing in her eyes. “Isn’t that awesome? So romantic. And so fast, too.”
Cage—and everyone else at the table—frowned. In addition to being a flirt, Marietta was also a notorious instigator, especially when it came to other females. As a Sumneyville native, Marietta was well versed on all the locals and knew which buttons to push to achieve maximum damage. For Kate, that button was being reminded of how her family had chosen a thieving con man like Luther Renninger over their own daughter and his subsequent engagement to her much-younger sister.
Kate said nothing.
Mad Dog, however, grunted out, “Good for them.” He took Kate’s hand—the one with the glistening rock he’d put on it only recently—and lifted it to his lips. It was a deliberate move, one meant to let Marietta know that Kylie wasn’t the only Handelmann sister about to get hitched.
Marietta’s eyes widened; her mouth opened and closed before she turned away from the table and scurried back toward the kitchen, no doubt to spread the news.
“Now, you’ve gone and done it,” Kate said, but some of the sadness had left her eyes, and she was smiling. “It’ll be all over town by the time we leave the restaurant.”
Mad Dog leaned over and kissed her soundly. “That’s the idea. I want everyone to know I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
Kate melted right then and there while Heff made a gagging noise. Sandy elbowed him in the ribs.
“What?” Heff said, feigning innocence. “He can’t possibly be the luckiest man in the world because I am.”
Cage snorted and looked over toward the solitary woman’s table, wondering if she had someone special in her life. This time, she caught his eye and offered him a smile. He felt it deep in his chest. Perhaps Sandy was right. Maybe he should go over and say something.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Cage said, pushing back his chair and rising.
He made his way across the dining room. The brunette’s eyes followed him the whole way. The fact that she closed her notebook and discreetly pushed it to the side before he got too close wasn’t lost on him. He wondered what she’d been scribbling.
“We meet again,” he said in greeting.
“Hi,” she replied.
“Does the fact that you’re here mean your day got better?”
Her smile widened. “Definitely better.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Should he mention the interview? He debated briefly, then decided against it. For one thing, he liked having the advantage. For another, he was looking forward to seeing her reaction when she discovered the truth. That didn’t mean he was ready to walk away.
“Staying at Mel’s?” he asked. Since it was the only motel around for miles, he figured it was a safe bet.
“No, the B & B.”
Sumneyville had a B & B? “Good choice.”
Her eyes glistened with amusement. “You’re the second person who’s told me that this evening. I’m all about good choices.”
“Well, you’ve made a good one by coming here. Franco’s is the best restaurant in town.”
“Is there more than one restaurant in town?”
“No,” he replied with a grin of his own. “Enjoy your dinner.”
“Thanks. I’m sure I will. And who knows? Maybe our paths will cross again.”
“Maybe. Third time’s a charm, right?”
“So they say.”
He was still chuckling when he got back to his table, glad to see the rest of the food had arrived. He tucked in to his meal, ignoring the five pairs of eyes pinned on him. Well, four pairs of eyes. Mad Dog’s attention was focused on his food.
“Well?” Heff prompted.
Cage ignored him and turned to the ladies. “Did you know Sumneyville had a bed-and-breakfast?”
Both nodded. It was Kate who said, “Martha McGillicuddy runs it. She’s got a huge Victorian on Fourth Street. Luther convinced her to license it as a B & B for tax purposes, but I don’t know how many people have actually stayed there, outside of her family.”
“She’s staying with Martha?” Sandy’s brows pinched together. “That could be a problem.”
“Why?” asked Cage.
�
�Because Martha’s almost as big a gossip as Mona,” Sandy explained.
“Mona?” Heff asked.
“Mona Delvecchio.” When Heff still looked confused, she added, “The purple-haired lady at the township building who conveniently lost so much of the Sanctuary zoning and inspection paperwork.”
Kate’s smile dimmed. “And Martha’s the one who told me I couldn’t do Meal on Wheels anymore once I moved in with Chris.”
“What?” exclaimed Sandy in surprise. “You didn’t tell us that! Why the hell not?”
“Because the Ladies Auxiliary didn’t want to risk getting on Jerry Petraski’s bad side. As the fire chief, he controls the fire hall and the kitchens, where they make the meals.”
Cage frowned. Jerry Petraski and his brother-in-law—the chief of police, Daryl Freed—were not fans of the Sanctuary project, though the exact why of it was still unclear. What was clear, however, was that they used their positions to intimidate locals who might otherwise support Sanctuary and its mission.
“That’s why you stopped doing Meals on Wheels?” Doc asked, shaking his head. “That is so messed up.”
“Messed up but true,” Mad Dog said. He turned and pointed his fork in Cage’s general direction. “Which means, it’s more important than ever that the reporter sees the truth for herself before her head gets filled with bullshit.”
“Cage will take care of it,” Heff said, topping off his beer from one of the pitchers. “In fact, I’m certain he’ll find some way to keep the pretty reporter happy and occupied. Won’t you?”
Cage glanced across the dining room to where the woman was writing in her notebook again.
“I’ll do my best.”
Chapter Nine
Bree
Bree awoke with a sense of anticipation. Despite their straightforward mission statement, there was an air of mystery about Sanctuary—or at the very least, Martha’s reaction when Bree had mentioned it.
Granted, her cursory internet research hadn’t netted much information, but her curiosity was piqued, especially after getting her first glimpse at some of the members. Bonus: the thought of seeing the Good Samaritan again made her smile.
Nick UnCaged: Sanctuary, Book Four Page 4