Gracie stared after her. She was still trying to figure out what to make of the waitress’s comment when a man she’d seen once or twice around town slid into the booth opposite her.
“I couldn’t help overhearing what you said to Jessie. I could help you out,” he said.
“Oh?”
He held out his hand. “Bobby Ray Daniels. I’m Kevin’s cousin.”
Gracie studied him and saw a hint of family resemblance in the eyes, but the chin was weaker, the jaw less defined. One thing she would give Bobby Ray, he dressed a whole lot better than his cousin. She noted the well-tailored slacks, the expensive shirt with its monogrammed cuffs, the buffed Italian leather loafers. The outfit was as classy as anything hanging in Max’s closet. She realized she’d recently developed a fondness for worn jeans.
“Why would you help me?” she asked.
“Just being neighborly.”
“Shouldn’t you be on your cousin’s side?”
“I wasn’t aware there were sides. You’re not trying to cheat him, are you?”
“No, but—”
“Obviously you’re not worried about hurting his feelings. You’re already going behind his back.”
“Just to pick up a little information,” she said, feeling surprisingly defensive.
“So why not get that information from me?”
Because it didn’t feel right to her. She couldn’t explain it. “Thanks, but I don’t think so.”
“I could talk to the owner for you.”
“You know the owner?”
“As well as Kevin does.”
“Why not just give me the name, then?”
“And cut myself out? That wouldn’t be smart business, would it?”
“So much for being neighborly,” Gracie said.
He grinned. “A man’s got to make a living.”
Despite his willingness to sell out his cousin, there was a certain amount of charm about the man that was practically irresistible. He didn’t sound as if there were a malicious intent behind the sneakiness, just good fun. A big joke on Kevin they could laugh about later. Gracie doubted Kevin would see it the same way.
“Okay, let’s say I was willing to pay you to intercede in my behalf. What would you charge?”
“A finder’s fee. Maybe fifty thousand,” he said with every bit as much brazenness as Kevin might have under the same circumstances.
Gracie laughed at his audacity. “Never mind. I think I’ll just go to the courthouse and check the property tax records.”
“Go ahead. Won’t tell you much.”
“Why not?”
“The bills go to Kevin.” He met her gaze with a friendly expression. “Bottom line, if you want to go around Kevin, you have to deal with me. I’ll be every bit as fair as he would be.”
Gracie stood. “Thanks all the same, but I don’t think so.”
He shrugged off the rejection. “That’s okay. You’ll change your mind. Kevin’s stubborn as a mule when he wants something, and I’ve got a pretty strong feeling what he wants is you. That house is his hold on you, isn’t it?”
She didn’t like Bobby Ray Daniels’s insinuations, but she couldn’t really deny them. She’d seen the gleam in Kevin’s eyes when he’d looked at her. Would he be beyond holding that house just out of her reach to keep her coming around? Probably not. That didn’t mean she had to deal with the likes of Bobby Ray to get what she wanted.
Ignoring Bobby Ray, she went to the counter to pay for her coffee.
“Steer clear of him,” Jessie warned in an undertone. “Bobby Ray’s okay in his own way, but there’s bad blood between him and Kevin.”
“So I gathered. How come?”
“It’s a family thing.”
“But I’d be willing to bet that you know every detail.”
“Well, of course I do,” Jessie agreed. “Doesn’t mean I’d tell a stranger.”
Gracie sighed. “How long will it take me to stop being an outsider around here?”
“Hard to say. Could be tomorrow. Could be you won’t live that long. Folks are fickle about acceptance. There’s no telling what’ll turn the tide. I can’t say if it matters, but I think you’re going to do okay, as long as you don’t push too hard. Take it a little slow. And whatever you do, don’t antagonize Kevin. People around here think that man hung the moon.”
“Because he was a high school basketball star?”
“Because he’s a decent kind of guy who’ll come through for you in a pinch.”
“You said something like that before, Jessie. What did Kevin do for you?”
“He came through for me, when no one else would. That’s the long and short of it. And I’m not the only one. If you’re looking for an example of someone who lives by the Golden Rule, you don’t need to look any further than Kevin.”
“Yet there’s bad blood between him and his cousin. Why is that?”
“You’ll have to ask Kevin or Bobby Ray about that. It’s their business,” Jessie said with finality and moved off to greet two customers who’d just come in.
Gracie struggled to grasp the distinction between spreading news of her activities far and wide and sharing a few insights into some apparently long-standing family feud in the Daniels clan. She didn’t quite get it, but it was clear that Jessie had said as much as she intended to on the subject.
Back outside, Gracie debated the wisdom of going to the county courthouse in Montross to check property records. Bobby Ray had told her she’d be wasting her time, but the warning might have been totally self-serving. Or not.
It was such a beautiful day, too beautiful to spend indoors, looking through musty old records or even computerized ones if the county was up-to-date. The air was soft and warm, the sky a clear and brilliant blue. Maybe she should just go on back home and admire her new garden.
When she opted for the latter, she blamed it on Kevin’s sorry influence and made a hasty detour to the bookstore to pick up those cookbooks she’d concluded she needed. She might spend the day lazing around in her own backyard, but the time wouldn’t be totally wasted. She could choose recipes for the bed-and-breakfast. Simple recipes.
Two hours later, she was up to her elbows in broken eggs and flour. The kitchen looked as if a particularly nasty tornado had ripped through. Her version of the basic little souffle she’d seen made a thousand times in the Worldwide kitchens was burnt to a crisp and had fallen in the middle. There were five others just like it in the garbage.
“Maybe you ought to switch to scrambled eggs,” Kevin suggested.
Gracie glanced up from the mess and glared at him. “Where did you come from?” He was lounging in the doorway as naturally as if he belonged in her kitchen. She hadn’t heard him or his car.
“I knocked on the front door. Obviously you were distracted by the explosion.” He grinned. “That is what happened here, isn’t it? Something blew up?”
“Go to hell.”
His grin broadened. “People only resort to cursing when they can’t think of anything more creative to say.”
Before she could think of a few dozen creative ways to tell him to get lost, he moved into the room and began moving pots and pans and bowls into the sink and running hot water over them.
“Sit,” he instructed.
Gracie sat, because she was too exhausted to do anything else. She wanted to weep, but Kevin’s presence kept her from indulging in a good cry.
“Exactly what were you trying to accomplish here?” he inquired as he expertly scrubbed the dishes, dried them and, after a little poking around in the cupboards, put all but one pan exactly where they belonged. He set the remaining pan back on the stove, surveyed the mess on the table and retrieved eggs, cheese, and butter.
“I was practicing.”
“What exactly? Demolition work?” he inquired.
The butter began sizzling in the frying pan. Kevin whipped the eggs into a frothy mixture and poured it into the pan with smooth expertise.
“You�
�re not all that amusing,” she retorted, observing him enviously.
“Yeah, I suppose from your point of view I’m not. But darlin’, if you can’t laugh at yourself, life can get downright tedious.”
“I suppose you laugh at your mistakes.”
“You’re assuming I make some.”
Gracie let that remark pass. She suspected Kevin’s ego couldn’t be deflated with a pitchfork, much less any little jab she might take at it. Besides, her mouth was watering at the fluffy cheese omelette he was sliding onto a plate.
“I met your cousin this morning,” she said instead.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Which one?”
“Bobby Ray.” She noticed Kevin’s hands stilled at the mention of the name and his shoulders tensed perceptibly.
“Oh? How’d that happen?”
“I was having breakfast and he stopped by my table.”
Kevin sighed. “I imagine he offered to help you get the Victorian.” He set the omelette in front of her, then pulled out a chair, turned it around backward and straddled it.
“How’d you know?”
“Believe me, I know all of Bobby Ray’s moves. I’ll bet he wanted a finder’s fee for helping out, right?”
Because she was savoring the first bite of omelette, Gracie merely nodded.
“How much?” he asked. “Let me guess. Fifty thousand?”
“How’d you know that?”
“Because that’s exactly the amount he was trying to get me to fork over. When I refused, he obviously started looking for other sources. It would suit him to take it from you for interfering in the business you and I have.”
“What’s he want it for?”
“He wants to go into business with his wife’s lover.”
Gracie nearly choked on her food. She stared. “He what?”
“I hear it’s a long story. So far, I’ve managed to escape hearing the details. Bottom line? Stay way from him, Gracie. As much as I hate to say it, Bobby Ray’s a conniving son of a bitch when there’s something he wants, and right now it’s a toss up whether he wants money or my head on a platter. He’ll use you to get either one.”
“I’ve already told him I’m not interested in his deal.”
“That won’t stop him. The word no is not in his vocabulary.”
“Sounds like somebody else I know,” she murmured.
“Okay, it’s a family trait. I’ll accept that. I still want you to steer clear of him.”
“You don’t sound as if you like him very much.”
Kevin shot her a rueful look. “Does it sound that way? The truth is, I like him fine. I just wish he’d get a grip on his life and stop trying to take the easy way out. Biggest mistake he ever made was the first divorce.”
“First?”
“There’s been another one since. I’m hoping for a third. I don’t much care for wife number three.”
“What does he do?”
“As little as possible.”
Given the disparaging nature of the accusation and his own apparent lack of regular employment, Gracie was surprised. “And you think that’s a bad thing?”
“Of course it is.”
“Maybe he’s following someone else’s example,” she suggested.
“Whose?”
“Yours, for instance.”
He chuckled at that. “There you go, making those assumptions again. Shame on you.”
“I know what I see.”
“Okay,” he said agreeably. “Want to know what I see when I look at you? I see a woman who’s hanging around the house all day long with nothing to do except scientific experiments that come damned close to destroying a kitchen that doesn’t even belong to her. If I were the kind of man who jumped to conclusions, I’d say she has no practical skills whatsoever, no goals, no ambitions and, judging from those bandaged hands, a dangerous lack of common sense.”
Gracie bristled. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? Not if I judge by appearances.”
“But you know better.”
“Because I did a little checking. Maybe you should consider doing a little investigating of your own before you reach any more hasty conclusions.”
“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point.” She regarded him curiously. “Why’d you come by anyway?”
“I was going to take you to lunch, but you’d already gotten a head start on me.”
“I wasn’t fixing lunch exactly.”
“Then what was this all about?”
“I was practicing.”
“For what?”
Before she could answer, comprehension obviously dawned. He stared at her incredulously.
“For the bed-and-breakfast?”
She nodded.
“Oh, my,” he murmured, and started to chuckle.
“Stop it. Stop it right this minute.”
“Can’t help it,” he said between laughs. “I was just envisioning the expression on the faces of your first guests when they come down and find a sight like this in the kitchen. Or were you hoping to serve them in the dining room and save them the trauma?”
“I’ll be better before I open.”
“Of course you will. In the meantime, though, maybe you ought to start thanking your lucky stars that I’m holding out.”
“Why?”
“Because it seems to me you need another couple of years to practice your cooking skills.”
Gracie considered whether it was possible to murder a man by whacking him upside the head with a cast-iron skillet. Fortunately for him, Kevin caught the direction of her gaze and her thoughts and made a hasty exit before she could find out.
8
Kevin had intended to stay the hell away from Bobby Ray for as long as humanly possible—or at least until he got over the absurd notion of backing his wife’s lover in the jewelry business. Unfortunately, his cousin’s little meeting with Gracie required a response. Kevin wasn’t exactly itching for a fight when he turned into the winding road that would take him to Bobby Rae’s house on Monroe Bay, but he was in no mood to run from one, either.
There was a hodgepodge of homes tucked away on this side of the bay that fed into the Potomac. Some were doublewide trailers, some were small cottages that had been upgraded over the years with vinyl siding and fancy new decks. A few, like Bobby Ray’s, were huge new homes with lots of glass facing the water and wide porches, lined with rockers or Adirondack chairs. To Kevin’s regret, the garage at Bobby Ray’s was wide open and there were no cars around, either inside the garage or in the driveway. Wherever he and Sara Lynn were, they apparently weren’t together.
However, Kevin’s favorite kid, a pigtailed, blond imp, was sitting on the porch with a book in her hands. She was so clearly absorbed in the story that he was almost beside her before Abby glanced up at him from behind the thick lenses of her glasses and grinned.
“Hey, Uncle Kevin!” she called out, using the honorary title that had been easier for her to grasp than the concept of being second cousins.
“Hey, squirt. What’re you reading?”
“It’s about this girl who went all the way across the country in a covered wagon. Can you imagine getting over the Rockies way back then? It must have been awesome.”
“Scary, more likely.”
“That, too,” she agreed, nodding solemnly. “How come you’re here. Are you looking for Daddy?”
“Yep. Any idea where he is?”
“Probably sneaking around behind Sara Lynn,” she said, sounding way wiser than any ten-year-old ought to be. “I figure they’ll be together another month, tops.”
“I see,” he said carefully, trying not to let his disgust show. Abby shouldn’t be this aware of her stepmother’s sordid behavior.
She regarded him worriedly. “Uncle Kevin, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How come Daddy can’t stay married?”
“You ask the big ones, don’t you, squirt?” He settled into the
rocker beside her and gave the question some thought. Finally he shook his head. Answers that didn’t involve labeling her father an irresponsible oaf eluded him. “I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know. Sometimes things between grown-ups just don’t work out.”
“That’s what Mom said, too. What I want to know is why they don’t work out. Is it because Daddy changes jobs so much and never has any money? Mom told Aunt Emma he hasn’t paid child support for me in the last six months.”
Kevin bit back an angry retort. This was the first he’d heard that Bobby Ray wasn’t making his payments. For a time he’d made them for his cousin, but Bobby Ray had claimed that was demeaning, that it showed a total lack of faith.
“Might as well cut off my balls and be done with it,” he’d shouted during one of their more heated exchanges.
Kevin had actually seen his point. He’d relented and started sending all of the money directly to Bobby Ray. Obviously that had been a mistake.
Abby peered at him. “You’re not mad at him, are you? Mom said not to tell you, that you had enough on your mind with all the rest of them without her bugging you, too. Besides, we do okay. Since she got that promotion, she’s making real good money now at the bank.”
Kevin forced a smile. “I know she is, but that’s not the point. Your dad has a responsibility to pay his share. I’ll talk to him.”
Her lower lip quivered. “You won’t yell, will you? Please, Uncle Kevin. I hate it when you and Daddy yell.”
“Now, squirt, you know perfectly well that yelling is just something your dad and I do. Anything short of shouting doesn’t register. It’s the way we communicate.” He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t even three o’clock.
“What are you doing here all by yourself at this time of day anyway?”
“It was a short day at school, so I always come here ’cause Mom’s still at work. Daddy was supposed to be here, but I guess he forgot. And Sara Lynn’s never here in the afternoon. That’s when she sneaks around with her friends.”
Kevin saw red. He was going to kill Bobby Ray. He really was. And maybe Sara Lynn, while he was at it. Abby was safe enough here alone, but being forgotten by her father was lousy. He tried to keep his fury out of his voice. He even managed to force another smile. “How about coming home with me till your mom gets off? Aunt Delia’d love to see you. We’ll call your mom and let her know where you are.”
Amazing Gracie Page 9