by B. Groves
Elijah rubbed his hands through his dark hair and turned to Mac saying, “You know the invite for Thanksgiving is still open.”
Mac shrugged. “I already said I would work, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to stop at Kenny’s house that night.”
“Okay. The invitation is open,” Elijah said.
Mac nodded and walked out of the locker room saying good morning to the rest of the staff along the way.
Joe’s door was closed and it looked like he was in a meeting this morning. He knew Joe had a press conference scheduled for mid-afternoon about a wanted fugitive they caught in Lingate the day before.
His captain was cursing at someone over the phone and more officers were getting ready for their morning beats.
A typical day in Lingate, North Carolina. That’s what Mac liked. Constant. No surprises.
Mac didn’t even sit down at his desk. He put on his hat and headed to his patrol vehicle.
***
Now was a good time for coffee Mac thought as he pulled into Sweet Spot Coffee and Bakery Company.
Mac had a quiet morning. A few stops, another welfare check, and two women arguing in a fast food restaurant. He resolved it and went on his way with no arrests, but knew the two women weren’t finished with their argument and the police would need to respond again soon. Mac shook his head at the pettiness of their fight. It was over one woman’s pictures of the other woman’s boyfriend on her phone or something ridiculous like that.
Officers took a break whenever they could, but lunch was now mandatory.
Joe had been a detective for two years before he was promoted to chief after their former chief retired.
He was changing the department’s policies like the days off and he implemented mandatory one-hour lunches.
Mac was glad for that change. He’d be using a bathroom or his lunch ordered when a call came in and he had to rush out.
They had enough officers for coverage since the state was focusing on the prospering Lingate community whereas the rest of the counties were faltering.
Joe said he wanted happy, healthy officers, and he used his political clout to make that happen.
Mac pulled into the coffee shop and found the parking lot busy from the old timers who hung out there most of the day.
They were retired men who were bored with their lives and wanted to avoid their wives.
They would sit and drink coffee all morning, go the local American Legion for lunch, drink a few beers then come back to the coffee shop and try to work off the alcohol before heading home.
Mac issued quite a few DUIs to these guys over the years, but they were too old to care anymore.
This part of Lingate was for retirees and the upscale community, and it showed from their mansions and immaculate lawns with the white picket fences.
Mac had been working this beat for years and knew everyone by name.
Mac parked his patrol vehicle looking around.
He spotted a new SUV with a U-Haul trailer attached.
Mac got out of his patrol vehicle and noticed the New Jersey license plates on the SUV.
Another Yankee trying to find the land of milk and honey in the south, he thought with a smirk.
Mac hated to be so harsh, but most people who moved here moved back to their respective homes within two years, finding their dreams of the slow, southern lifestyle were too slow, and not some neat vacation package that lasted for life.
They made every excuse he ever heard. From no jobs to the weather not being what they thought it would be, to the local politics.
It was none of those. Southerners were a little slower and lived a leisurely lifestyle, and most Yanks couldn’t handle it. They were used to fast-paced, coffee and a bagel on the go while sitting on a train for two hours to get to their jobs every morning.
Lingate might be a growing community, but if you didn’t adjust, you didn’t last.
Mac had been to New York several times and hated that concrete jungle. The fast-paced lifestyle would never suit him. He would have been miserable living in a huge city like New York.
He loved the Great Smoky Mountains and every summer he took some of his vacation time to go hiking for a long weekend.
Mac turned to walk into the coffee shop.
The shop was owned by Shirley Dempsey. Mac didn’t know too much about Shirley except that she lived here when she was a little girl but moved away for a while.
She married a restaurateur in West Virginia and together they owned a few southern style BBQs for tourists until the economy took a dump.
She told him they were hemorrhaging money and sold their businesses. That was when she lost her husband and migrated back to Lingate.
She heard through the grapevine that old Paul Gallagher was selling the bakery to retire to Florida. She snatched it up with what was left of her money and has been running the place ever since.
She never changed the recipes that Paul left her, but added a few of her own.
Shirley was a woman in her late fifties. She laughed about how she gained fifty pounds ever since she bought the shop and wouldn’t have it any other way. She was a central part of the community where Mac patrolled. She hosted parties, giveaways, and charity fundraisers right inside her shop. She was the type to welcome visitors and transplants to the neighborhood with a free coffee or doughnut if she didn’t recognize them. Mac thought it was great marketing to keep the customers coming back and bringing her more business.
Mac walked in and could see her behind the bar leaning her big bust over the counter, her short, graying dark hair falling over her eyes.
She wore the bakery polo shirt and was talking to a woman as they leaned over the phone.
Mac immediately noticed the hushed voices inside the shop.
The old men were leaning on the counter to catch every word Shirley was saying to the woman.
Mac frowned wondering what that was about, and he could have sworn if the old men leaned any further the damn bakery would tip over.
Must they know everything? He asked himself with annoyance at the old farts.
Shirley’s head lifted when she heard the bell on top of the door ring.
Her face lit up when she spotted him and waved him over.
Mac turned his gaze to the woman standing opposite of Shirley leaning over her phone on the counter and holding a cup of coffee in her hand.
Mac immediately noticed her wavy dark blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and dropping past her shoulders.
She was wearing a light jacket over a white sweater that almost reached her knees.
Her shapely legs were more noticeable since she was wearing black leggings.
Her black boots went up mid-calf defining her legs even more.
She was small and petite. A good foot shorter than Mac.
The woman turned to face him when Shirley waved Mac over. She had a heart-shaped face with full pink lips and stunning baby blue eyes.
Mac almost caught his breath at the sight of her.
Mac noticed she kept pushing a stubborn stray hair out of her eyes.
Mac hadn’t wanted to touch hair so badly in a long time.
He wanted to push that stray hair out of her face for her and then run his fingers over those full lips.
Instead, he didn’t. He averted his eyes to Shirley and walked closer to her and the woman.
He tried to avoid the woman’s gaze, but it made him wonder if she felt the same reaction he did a moment ago.
“Mac, your timin’ couldn’t be more perfect,” Shirley began. “Do you remember where the U-Haul place moved to? It’s not showin’ up on her GPS.”
Mac knew the U-Haul location, but his words were not coming out.
“Mac?” Shirley asked.
“Yeah,” Mac said.
He knew he had to turn to the woman in front of him and answer her. But, damn she was mesmerizing, and he wondered if he could give her a straight answer.
“I know where it moved to,” Mac said.
He could have given her directions right there and called it a day, but instead, he did his civic duty and offered to show her outside.
The woman looked surprised at first but agreed.
“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate your help.”
The woman turned and thanked Shirley for her help, and Mac thought he heard a collective sigh from the rest of the customers inside the shop as he held the door for her.
She turned in front of him expectantly while she rummaged through her purse with one hand and put on her sunglasses in one smooth movement.
Mac admitted he was disappointed she did that, he hoped to see more of those beautiful eyes.
“U-Haul used to be on Lakeland street, but they moved to River Course Road about two weeks ago,” he said. “When you leave the parking lot, make a right and at the next light make another right, down about two streets is River Course Road, it’ll be on the left about a half-mile.”
The woman turned to follow his pointed finger and was quiet for a minute.
“Is there a landmark I can look for?” She asked.
“You’ll see a Shell station on the corner of River Course, it’s the only one within about four miles of here,” Mac said. “That U-Haul isn’t that far.”
The woman smiled and Mac thought he would melt into the pavement. She repeated his directions word for word while typing them into her phone.
“Thank you, officer,” she said, looking back up at him.
Mac cleared his throat and said, “My pleasure, ma’am. I guess that’s your car over there.”
The woman turned and said, “Yes. I moved here yesterday.”
Mac caught the northern accent in the woman’s voice. Her voice was low but still feminine.
He wondered how it would sound if she were moaning with pleasure.
He needed to stop those thoughts.
“I hope you like it here. Lingate has been growing recently and there is so much to do even this time of the year,” he said.
“I lived here when I was very young,” she commented.
Mac stepped back in surprise.
An emotion passed over the woman’s face, but she tried to hide it by smiling.
“My family and I moved away when I was still little, but I’m back to check things out,” she said.
“I guess I should say welcome home,” Mac said with a smile.
“Thanks. Have you lived here long?” She asked.
She was showing interest. That was a good thing. Wasn’t it? Mac didn’t know. He wasn’t very experienced with women on a personal level.
“All my life, ma’am,” he began. “Are you living close by?”
“I sure am. I thought it would be better to ask for directions straight from the locals.”
“Well, my beat is in this area, so if you ever see me, feel free to say hello,” Mac said not sure what her reaction would be.
The woman looked surprised at first but her smile grew wider and Mac had to turn away for a moment and fumble with his keys so he wouldn’t show that he liked her smile.
What was this spell she was casting over him? He probably wouldn’t ever see her again after today.
“I will do that,” she said.
She looked at her phone and said, “I better return that trailer before they bill me for more hours.”
“Sure thing,” Mac said stepping out her way. “What’s your name?”
Claire looked up from her purse again, this time she was holding her car keys.
“Claire.” She searched his badge and said, “Thanks again, Officer MacIntosh.”
“Call me Mac,” he said.
“Okay. Have a good day, Mac. Stay safe,” she said.
Mac said goodbye to her. He appreciated her safety comment and watched her walk to her car.
He turned away not knowing what just happened, but he liked connecting with a woman again.
Mac re-entered the bakery and noticed the old timers leaning the other way to watch Claire leave the parking lot while talking in hushed voices.
The two girls behind the counter with Shirley were talking in low voices as they too stared out of the windows.
Mac frowned. What was so special about this Claire person that had everyone going insane?
Different people were in and out of here all the time. Shirley advertised a local and tourist friendly establishment all over town.
What was going on?
Mac walked up to the counter to order his coffee.
Shirley had a mischievous look when she poured the coffee into the cup.
“Are ya’ll going to keep me in the dark or what?” Mac asked once Shirley gave him his coffee cup.
He could have sworn Shirley’s big body wanted to jump out of her clothes as she told him.
“Mac, that’s Claire Westcott,” Shirley said.
At first, the name didn’t ring any bells. “That’s nice. She told me her name was Claire.”
Shirley wrung her hands, her eyes bulging out of her head. “She’s an author.”
Wow, Mac thought. He liked to read. His favorites were Sci-Fi with some horror in the mix.
“What does she write?”
“I read her books. She writes romance,” Shirley said leaning over the counter with a smirk. “She’s talented. She was telling me she wanted to change it up now that she moved here. She said she was burned out on romance and hoped movin’ here would light a fire under her ass to write other stories.”
Mac was losing interest in Shirley’s gossiping. He would have rather have heard this from Claire instead of Shirley.
“I don’t read romance,” Mac said getting ready to leave.
Shirley put her hand out. “Don’t you recognize the name, Mac?”
Mac thought about it and came up empty. He shook his head in question.
“That’s Claire Westcott. David Westcott’s sister, you know, the little boy who drowned a long time ago. Rose Kinsey’s granddaughter,” Shirley explained, satisfied she got to pass the news to him since everyone knew he was the one who found Rose dead.
Mac’s mouth dropped in surprise. He turned to the window, but Claire pulled away several minutes ago, and Mac only stared at the full parking lot.
Claire Westcott?
That was Rose Kinsey’s granddaughter? The one the gossip column talked about this morning on Facebook? She was the benefactor of one of the most beautiful houses Mac ever stepped into, although it was full of tragedy.
“Well, she sure got lucky, didn’t she?” Mac asked.
Shirley shook her head and went to wait on another customer. Mac could hear the murmurs of the old men in the background as they gossiped about Claire Westcott.
The situation wasn’t any of his business. Who knew what could happen in twenty years between families. He had to break up domestic disputes all the time. There were families that were tight, like his, and then there were families who never spoke for years.
“Crazy times,” he heard Shirley say in the background.
Mac heard Shirley’s words, but an odd thing drew his attention. He heard Claire speak and thought Shirley sounded just like her as she gossiped with the men sitting at the counter.
That was an odd thought. Mac shook his head wondering why he thought they sounded similar.
Mac put his hat on and left, the questions still swirling around in his head.
10.
C laire pulled up into her driveway after dropping off her trailer and picking up a quick lunch at a sandwich shop.
She heard the local grocery store made great hoagies—subs. She smiled thinking her slang might not be well known down here. Then again, most newer residents were transplants according to the owner of that doughnut shop, so she might get away with some of it.
Claire looked up at the house rising into the clear sky. She dreaded going inside.
Her emotions were raging this morning after she dressed and left the house to run her errands.
She tried to think of other things.
Anything that would distract her mind from what she was seeing inside the home.
She didn’t have WIFI yet so her laptop was useless. She planned on sitting down in the coffee shop and use the free Wi-Fi there, but the old guys who gawked and whispered about her made her uncomfortable and she scratched that idea.
She didn’t know what they were talking about. She knew her family had seen tragedy over the years, but what would they get out of talking behind her back?
Probably bored and any excitement was good excitement.
Claire already felt guilty enough not knowing about Rose until after she died.
Claire sighed thinking she had bigger issues to worry about than some old men with nothing better to do talking about a woman they didn’t know.
Her inheritance was another uncomfortable subject for her and one she questioned daily, thinking she didn’t earn her place in this house nor did she deserve the money bequeathed to her.
Claire’s thoughts turned to the handsome officer she met today.
When she turned and spotted Mac, her breath caught in her throat, and she hoped she hid her reaction so he hadn’t noticed.
Or had she wanted him to notice?
It was like one of her heroes from her novels came to life in the form of Officer McIntosh.
The man was too handsome for his own good.
From his short brown hair to his square jaw with the cleft in the chin, to his broad shoulders and muscular arms, he was one of her characters for sure.
He had wide chocolate eyes that Claire could get lost in.
She was never attracted to the clean-shaven athletic type, but the look complimented him nicely.
Claire didn’t know what sparked between them, but she thought he felt it too. When he walked her outside to give her directions, the only thoughts she had were wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.
When he told her to call him Mac, Claire’s insides turned to mush.
She may write romance novels but she was a realist with men.
Her past relationships gave her enough reality checks to know that once the romance part was over you get to live with or leave the real person underneath the mask.
But, Mac. Claire thought she saw a brooding in his eyes or a clear sadness when he spoke to her, and it made her curious on what caused such a strong emotion to stay there when speaking to other people.