Grace's Fake Groom

by Francesca Lane

  Chase brought his empty dish to the counter. “I’ll clean up the dishes later.”

  Grace took a step back, keenly aware of his body so close to hers.

  Chase didn’t move away. “Look, as I’ve said before, I can get plenty of work done from here. I can stay a while longer” He glanced out the window just as Wren caught sight of them both and raised a hand in a wave.

  He waved back, leaning closer to the window. “Is that a cigar she’s smoking?”

  Grace stepped toward the window, careful not to allow her body to touch his. She squinted. “It appears so. Now that I think about it, Wren did join my father and her husband for a smoke on occasion.”

  Chase raised a brow.

  “What? A lady can’t smoke a cigar? What is this, 1912?”

  Zeke careened into the room, yelping.

  Grace broke eye contact with Chase and squatted down. “What is it, little guy?” She petted his fur, though he hardly gave her an out. He pushed his head into her palm, begging for more attention.

  “Guess he didn’t get enough of a walk today,” Chase said.

  Grace sighed. “I doubt that. He just needs some love.”

  “If you say so.”

  Grace scooped up the pup and tucked him under her arm. Nothing like a besotted companion to cheer her up. She almost laughed at the thought, but kept it to herself. From beneath her eyelids she glanced at Chase, who had settled into her father’s old easy chair with his computer on his lap. He had his companion and she had hers.

  With a sigh, Grace opened a small drawer at the far end of the kitchen. To her, that drawer had always seemed like an afterthought, as if the builder had a tiny bit more room and thought, What the heck? Why not just make a skinny drawer?

  She needed old-fashioned pen and paper to start making her “honey-do” list—though Jake, if he ever did show his face around here, would no doubt find that moniker annoying.

  She rooted around in the drawer with one hand, trying not to stab herself on errant paper clips, the occasional tack, and other oddities in the drawer. Her hand landed on a ballpoint pen. She pulled it out of the drawer, clicked the button at the end a few times, and gave it a try on a piece of scratch paper, which in this case was nothing more than the torn end of an expired coupon.

  Success.

  While Zeke snuffled into her armpit, she dug around for a notepad. Her hand landed on thick paper and she pulled it out of the drawer.

  Instead of being a notepad, though, it was a small manilla envelope with familiar-looking handwriting. She squinted at the words—it was her name.

  Grace flashed a look at Chase who was concentrating on the screen in front of him. She swallowed and flipped open the envelope. A key fell out and bounced across the counter.

  Chase looked up and their eyes met. “Everything okay over there?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, of course. Found a pen. That’s all.”

  He hummed a response and put his attention back on his work.

  Grace set Zeke on the floor and returned the key to the envelope. She slipped the envelope into her back pocket and headed to her old bedroom with Zeke sniffing at her feet.

  She could not think of why there’d be a key in a drawer—and particularly with her name on it, nor why it hadn’t been noticed by anyone before. But Grace hoped that by the night’s end, she would find the lock her key would open—and what was inside.

  Nine

  Grace had laid awake most of the night, wracking her brain about the key, but couldn’t think of what it opened or why there weren’t any in her siblings’ names. Their parents’ lawyer had made it clear there was virtually nothing left of their estate, well, other than the beat-up old beach house.

  She’d texted Maggie, figuring she might have some idea, but all she got back was: Who knows? Probably an old key from some long-ago trinket in the house we lost.

  The house they’d lost. She hated to think about that, even after all these years. The loss of their first home to fire had changed their parents, had changed them all somehow. It was as if her mother’s slow mental demise began with the very first flicker of flame. She rarely allowed herself to think about that time in their history. And she never, ever spoke about it.

  Morning light had come and Grace sighed, resisting the day. Waves rolled onto shore, calling to her, so with Zeke dancing beside her, she slipped a hat onto her head, pulling her hair into a ponytail that stuck out of the back. Then she slipped into workout clothes, and after brushing her teeth, she headed for the door at the end of the hall.

  Bright sunshine greeted her, as did a familiar voice.

  “Good morning.” Chase had swiveled around from his spot on the first step, a hat pulled low on his head.

  “Hey.” Grace second-guessed her decision to step outside without even a touch of powder.

  Zeke hopped about, yelping up at her. She bent down and quickly hooked his leash to his collar.

  Chase continued to peer up at her. “May I join you?”

  She shrugged. “Sure.”

  Together they took off down the steps and over mounds of thick sand. They slowed when they reached the wet sand of the wide, flat beach.

  “Did you make progress last night?” Chase asked.

  She glanced at him, squinting, wishing she’d remembered to wear her sunglasses. He was awfully concerned about the dreaded list she had been charged with making.

  Grace exhaled. “I made a note of a few things. You know, the obvious, like carpet that needs to be pulled up and replaced, and faucets in both the bathroom and kitchen.”

  He nodded. “Good. I noticed the leak when I was cleaning up the dinner dishes.”

  “My siblings and I should probably discuss budget before the list gets too out of hand. Of course, Jake should be able to save us all some money.”

  “How so?”

  “He’s an architect, so …”

  “I hate to tell you this, but being an architect doesn’t necessarily make someone an expert on construction.”

  Grace gasped. She turned a look on him, slowing her gait. “You’d better not say that to my brother when you meet him.”

  Chase let out a small laugh. “I’m sure he’d agree with me.”

  She shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t.” Grace sighed. “I guess I never mentioned this, but my father was a builder. He and Jake butted heads over my brother’s career choice.”

  Chase frowned. “Your father didn’t want Jake to become an architect?”

  “Nope. Thought he was selling out somehow. My brother had all kinds of wild ideas. He was a regular George Bailey.”

  Chase turned a questioning glance on her.

  “You know, from the movie It’s a Wonderful Life?”

  “Ah.”

  “Anyway, Jake worked alongside our father quite a bit, enough to wield a hammer and nail with the best of them, I’d say. But, in the end, he had big ideas and dreams that my father thought of as wasteful.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Think of it this way. My father was a meat-and-potatoes guy, while Jake preferred grilled salmon and organic greens.”

  “Well, then, if that’s the case, I’d guess your brother has already made a list of his own for the house.”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

  “Don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure what Jake thinks these days. He’s been rather AWOL lately, even more so than the rest of us, if that’s even possible.”

  “Have you heard from him since the video call?”

  “Not a word.”

  They continued to walk along, the morning sun cresting from the east. If it weren’t for the retractable leash, Zeke might have nabbed a few sandpipers for brunch.

  After stopping for a few seconds to snort and sniffle at sand crabs burying themselves deep inside soupy sand, Zeke took off down the beach, nearly yanking Grace’s arm out of its socket.

  “Yikes!”

  Despite the shock of pa
in, she laughed and hollered after him. “Stop it, you … you animal, you!”

  “You tell him,” Chase said.

  They reached a wide tributary of rocks and water made from storm runoff and Zeke splashed on through, yanking Grace along. Chase put his hand at her lower back and reached for the leash. He glanced at her. “May I?”

  “Please,” she said, relief flooding her.

  Chase moved the leash to his other hand and gently took Grace’s hand as they traversed the running water together.

  His touch woke up something deep inside of her and she jerked a look up to find him watching her. A spark lit his eyes, but she looked away.

  When they’d made their way back onto dry sand, she let go of his hand, hugging her arms to her midsection.

  “Probably should have turned around back there.”

  He reined the pup in a bit. “Why? Did you think I’d let you fall?”

  She sneaked a look at him from beneath the bill of her hat. He was serious. “Just thought it would be easier.”

  He pulled on the leash, stepping closer to Grace. He kept his eyes on her, as if he had something to say. He didn’t get the chance.

  “There you two lovers are!”

  A flush of heat swam through Grace’s cheeks and she licked her lips, pulling her gaze from Chase. Her neighbor had appeared beside them. “Good morning, Wren.”

  “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Wren said.

  Chase nodded. “It’s paradise. By the way, that pie was delicious.”

  Grace’s smile froze. Had they even bothered to slice into it?

  “I’m happy to hear it.”

  She slid a glance at Chase.

  He winked at her. “Had two pieces for my breakfast this morning.”

  Oh brother.

  Wren laughed. “That’s lovely to hear. Listen, Grace, I’m wondering if I may speak with you privately for a few moments?” She leveled a look at Chase.

  To his credit, he slid a look to Grace, as if for permission to leave her alone with the old woman.

  “I’ll be fine,” Grace said. She glanced back toward the house. “You go on ahead. We can walk closer to the tide to avoid that runoff.”

  By now Zeke had run back to them, his pink tongue hanging sideways from his mouth. Chase scooped him up and gave his noggin a swift rubbing. “I”ll take this one here back and get him cleaned up and fed.”

  When he’d gone, Grace turned to Wren. “Is there something on your mind?”

  Wren slipped her arm through the crook of Grace’s arm. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind my intrusion. Trust me when I say this, but it’s good for a husband and wife to spend some time apart on occasion. Makes ‘em miss you more.”

  Grace nodded, but goose bumps alighted on her skin. She rubbed them away with her free arm.

  “I was just wondering, dear, when your brother Jake might be coming around? He always was so good at helping your father fix things up.”

  Grace measured her response. No sense telling anyone, even Wren, about her parents’ odd requirement regarding the beach house. Then again, maybe she needed some assistance of her own. “Do you need help with something at your home?”

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that.”

  “Hm. Well, I’m sure he’ll be around. I spoke with my sisters the other night—”

  “And Jake wasn’t there?”

  Grace stopped. She searched Wren’s face. Had she told her about the call?

  Wren patted her arm. “Well, I’m sure he will show up soon enough. You know, he came some after your parents passed, but then he closed the house up tight. Not a light on for months.” She gave Grace a wan smile. “Until you and Chase decided to spend your honeymoon here, that is.”

  Grace nodded. Wren was lonely. Her husband had died, and from what she’d picked up over the years, her daughter, Daisy, almost never came around. From what she’d heard, Daisy had left in a hurry a couple of years back. Probably thought this small beach town too Podunk to make an entire life here.

  Hadn’t Grace thought the same thing?

  “You know, you haven’t been by for some of my lavender lemonade yet. I would love to bring some by for you sometime. May I?”

  A simple enough request, but why did it make a new set of goose bumps rise on her arms? An odd foreboding wound its way inside Grace’s mind, but she shook it away, annoyed by her careless thoughts.

  “Of course, you can.” She patted Wren’s arm. “You were my mother’s friend, and I’d love to talk to you about her sometime. Would that be okay?”

  Wren half-smiled and began to blink, her eyes watering. “Of course. That—that would be lovely.”

  They walked in silence until the Morelli house was in view. Grace stopped to say her goodbyes. “I’m heading inside for coffee, but I’ll see you sometime soon.”

  She pulled her arm away, but Wren grabbed onto it. The wind rustled the old woman’s greying black hair, and her eyes shone dark beneath a sudden cloud. “You do know, dear, that your sweet mother was, well, she was quite … eccentric at times.”

  Where had that come from all of a sudden?

  “I’m aware that my mother wasn’t quite herself the last few years of her life. That’s what you mean, right?”

  Wren gave her that half-smile again. She nodded her head in agreement and let go of Grace’s arm. “Goodbye, Grace.”

  Grace trudged toward the back steps, turning once to wave at Wren, who stood rooted in the sand, a sad frown pulling at her lips, as if she had just lost her best friend.

  Grace stepped inside the house. A shower called to her, but who was she kidding? The cry of coffee came through much louder. She approached the kitchen and halted, surprised. An almost-full pot of dark coffee, hot and steaming, sat on the counter. It made overtures she couldn’t resist and she lunged for an empty mug.

  “Lunch sounds fantastic. You name the place.”

  Grace spun around. “I haven’t even had break—”

  Chase’s back was to her. He sat on the couch, his cell phone embedded in his ear, lost in conversation.

  She swallowed back her reply and moved toward that pot of coffee. Embarrassing.

  He was chuckling now and she snapped another look in his direction. He did not appear to notice she had reappeared in the house. Thankfully. Grace poured some of the hot brew into a mug and skipped the cream. Despite a brisk walk under a warm sun, she felt tired. Groggy almost. Lack of deep sleep could do that to a person.

  She glanced in the reflection of the toaster. Eyes underscored with dark circles stared back at her. Ugh.

  “Sounds perfect.” Chase paused, then gave a low laugh. “No, no. I’ll pick you up. It will be my pleasure.”

  Grace leaned her back against the counter breathing in the intoxicating liquid caffeine and staring at the back of Chase’s head. Who was he talking to?

  “Great. See you then, beautiful.” He hung up and let out a whoop.

  Grace squinted at his mop of hair. Really? He was making a date while they were cooped up together? She watched as he got up from the couch, stopped mid-stride, and began putting notes into his phone.

  She cleared her throat and he looked up so sharply and with such pain etched on his face that she suspected his neck might have spasmed.

  “Oh, you’re there,” he said.

  “Yup.”

  He replaced surprise with benign regard. “How was your walk with Wren?”

  She shrugged. “Fine. She wants to bring us some lemonade.”

  “Today?”

  “Maybe.” She set her mug onto the counter and snagged him with a look. “Would that be a problem?”

  He slipped his phone into his back pocket. “Could be. I, uh, just made plans to meet a client.”

  She smiled. “Really? You have a client in this area?”

  He leveled a gaze at her. “As a matter of fact, yes. Well, she’s not too far away from here. We’re having lunch.”

  “I see.”

  He lowered his nose and look
ed up at her, like she was a wayward child. “You have a problem with that?”

  Grace quirked her lips and turned up her hands. “You could just be honest with me, you know.”

  “I am being honest with you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He expelled a breath and looked down at the ground before whipping his gaze back to hers. “What’s this about, Grace?”

  “Do you usually address your clients as beautiful? Wait. Let me rephrase that … can you name any professional in this day and age who addresses a client by ‘beautiful’ rather than her actual name?”

  He snorted, then scratched his head, eyeing her like she was crazy.

  Annoying. Grace clucked her tongue and said, “That’s what I thought.”

  Fire stoked in him now. She could see it in the hard angles of his expression. He glared at her while striding into the kitchen, stopping feet short of where Grace stood. “You’re jealous.”

  Grace spat out a laugh. “Hardly.”

  They were chin-to-chin now, his eyes round but smaller than usual. He kept them trained on her. “Then why do you care what I call her?”

  She held his stare. Why should she be the one to back down? “I don’t.” She thrust a fist into her hip. “But I also don’t like men who cheat on their wives.”

  He threw his head back in a fit of frustrated laughter. “Oh, come on! How can I be accused of cheating?” He was gritting his teeth now. “This isn’t even a real marriage!”

  She jabbed her left hand in front of his face, the one with the wedding ring on it. “That’s not what the world thinks!”

  Chase took her hand as if he were going to shove it away, but froze, his thumb on her skin. He eyed the ring on her finger. It was as if time had stopped, silence and thought intermingling between them. Gently, he lowered her hand, releasing her arm to hang by her side.

  Even after he let her go, her skin tingled from his touch, a flush of warmth lingering. He was still close to her, close enough to see the exaggerated rise of his chest and its inevitable fall. She wicked a look upward, into his eyes, their color a mixture of emerald and sage.