The front door opened before Mike and Lacy had even reached the staircase, and out stepped a tiny woman of some years. She wore blue jeans, a brown sweatshirt with a white turtleneck beneath it, and big fluffy pink slippers. Her hair was silver with a pearly cast, her eyes were brown and alive with questions, and her manner was downright girlish.
"Oh, goodness," she said with what could only be described as a giggle. She opened the porch door. "Lacy didn't tell me her friend was a man. Just look at me."
"You look fine, Mom, as always," Lacy said as she climbed the steps and wrapped her arms around her mother. After they greeted each other, she turned to Mike, who was standing on the walkway.
"This is my mother, Lena Thorp," she said, backing further inside the porch. "And Mom, this is my friend, Mike Lindahl. Come on in, Mike."
As he made his way up the stairs and inside the porch, he said, "A pleasure to meet you, Misses Thorp."
She smiled at him. "Nice to meet you, too, Mike, and please, call me Lena." She shook his outstretched hand. "You don't look much like a Lindahl."
He laughed, but refrained from repeating his usual response. "I get that a lot. I resemble my mother, who is Greek."
"Oh, how very interesting." She slapped both of her cheeks. "Come on inside the house you two."
She turned, and like a pair of obedient ducklings, Mike and Lacy followed her single file into the house. The living room was large and shadowed which gave it a kind of gloomy aura, a sense that a cloud had passed over the sun. Continuing on into the kitchen, another large room that was obviously the heart of the house, the clouds suddenly disappeared. Here there was plenty of light, mostly from a bank of old wooden windows and the large sliding glass doors that had recently been added.
As Mike looked around and took in the scent of something wonderful cooking on the stove, Lena said, "Mike, Lacy tells me you work with her. What exactly do you do?"
He shot Lacy a glance and then said to her mother, "I don't work for her anymore. I used to be her photographer, but I quit because she never let me take any pictures."
Eyes rampant with speculation, Lena looked to Lacy for clarification.
Grumbling under her breath, Lacy said, "When I mentioned that I met Mike at work, I meant at the sheriff's department."
"Oh, you're a deputy?"
Mike smiled. "I used to be a police officer in Minnesota, but now I investigate insurance fraud."
Her mother's mouth was open as she nodded slowly to herself. Then she turned to Lacy with a frown.
The jig was up, so to speak. She sighed as she said, "I met Mike a few weeks ago when I found that poor woman at the refuge. Mike was hunting with a deputy friend of his, Brian, who also happens to be my contact at the sheriff's department. So that's how we met."
"Oh, I think I see." Lena's gaze shifted back to Mike. She drilled him with astonishingly direct eyes, and asked, "Since you don't really work together, may I assume that you are dating my daughter?"
Mike almost laughed out loud. He contained himself, but couldn't help but grin. "I guess I must be," he confessed. "Otherwise, there's no explaining why I keep on eating those awful snack cakes she shoves down my throat."
Although horrified by the general turn in the conversation, this grabbed Lacy's attention. She turned to Mike and said, "You mean you don't like Little Debbie?"
"If she's the one who bakes those hideous pumpkin and Christmas tree cakes, not even a little bit."
"But—but what about the three pumpkin cakes you took home with you last week? Why take them if you hate them?"
He shrugged. "Because you wanted me to have them so badly."
The thought touched her enough that Lacy couldn't argue the point. She was, however, concerned about the cakes. "I suppose you threw them away."
"Not to worry. They're stuffed inside the glove box of my truck. You can eat them on the way home."
Her mother forgotten, Lacy said, "This isn't fair, you know. All this time I thought you loved the little snacks I gave you. How would you feel if out of the blue I told you that I really hate your stupid marshmallows?"
"That's impossible," he said smugly. "So I simply wouldn't believe you."
In frustration, Lacy stamped her foot, and then suddenly remembered that her mother was still standing there. Quickly bringing her back into the conversation, she said, "Can you believe that Mike makes his own marshmallows?"
Lacy turned to look at her mother and saw that tears were glistening in her eyes.
Then Lena and said, "Well, it's about time."
Mike tore his gaze off of Lacy. "Time for what?"
Her smile even broader, Lena patted his shoulder. Then she said to Lacy, "Excuse me a minute? There's something I need to take care of in the other room."
Then she bustled out of the kitchen.
"Uh, oh," Lacy said.
"What?"
"The thing my mother has to take care of? I have a feeling it involves the phone, which means she's calling my brother's house. Within ten minutes or so, his entire family will be here to look you over."
Mike shrugged. "Your mom seems to be a real sweetheart. I'm looking forward to meeting the rest of your family."
She laughed. "I'm the baby of three. My brother is the oldest, and has always thought it his job to look after his two younger sisters. He's particularly protective of me."
He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "I think I can take care of myself."
But Lacy was skeptical. "You know that men who stare at goats concept where if you stare at an animal or human long enough, it will just keel over? Don't say I didn't warn you."
Mike didn't get a chance to make sense of that. Lena bounced back into the room then and said, "So Mike. Do you like knoephla soup?"
"I really don't know. I think I may have had it once or twice at a friend's house a long time ago, but it wasn't something my family ate. It's chicken soup or something like that, isn't it?"
Lena wandered over to the stove near a big pot on the burner. "It's much more than chicken soup," she commented as she stirred the contents. "It's like chicken and potato stew with lots of lovely homemade knoephlas dropped into it. In case you don't know, knoephlas are little egg-dough dumplings."
Mike patted his belly and rolled his eyes. "Sounds filling."
"Oh, it is that," she laughed. "Now go sit down at the table with Lacy. We're about ready here."
Mike couldn't help but think that for such a small woman, she took command like a police captain. He and Lacy dropped into their assigned chairs just as the front door opened and closed. A moment later two young boys galloped into the room followed by a sturdy, yet attractive woman.
The boys, one around eight with auburn hair a shade lighter than Lacy's, the other ten or eleven with a shock of startlingly red hair, ran over to Lena and wrapped their arms around her middle.
"How are my boys?" she said, kissing each of them on the top of the head. "We have company, so take your places at the table and let Aunt Lacy introduce you to her friend."
By then the woman had stationed herself next to Lacy and given her a hug. She had short, blondish hair, smoky gray eyes, and wore just the merest dab of makeup. Like Lena, she was dressed in blue jeans and a blouse with a sweatshirt covering it, this one pink with a floral decal on the front.
Those smoky eyes were fastened to Mike as the woman said, "So who do we have here?"
"That's my friend, Mike." Lacy turned to him. "Mike, this is my sister-in-law Caroline, and those are my nephews, Allen and Todd."
After hellos all around, Caroline went to the cupboard with no direction from Lena, gathered up soup bowls and plates, and distributed them around the table.
"What's Charlie up to?" Lacy asked as Caroline worked.
"He's out in the field combining corn right now, trying to stay ahead of the first snowfall." She glanced at Mike and smiled. "He might make it in for a bite of dinner though."
Shortly after that, Mike was treated to a big bo
wl of knoephla soup, a chunk of crusty homemade bread, and a crisp green salad. He felt eyes on him as he ate, lots and lots of eyes, but got so captivated by the delicious meal, he forgot all about them. He was working on a second bowl of soup when the front door opened and closed.
Heavy boots approached the kitchen, and then a red-haired man stepped into the room. He was at least six feet tall, maybe even a touch taller than Mike, and thick across the chest and shoulders. His hair matched that of his oldest son, but his eyes were like Lacy's, cinnamon eyes. And they were pinned to Mike like needles in a cushion.
Lacy jumped out of her chair and threw herself into his arms. "Gosh it's good to see you. I've missed you the last few visits."
He returned her hug, kissed her forehead, and said, "So who's this?"
"My friend, Mike." She turned back to the table. "Mike, this is my brother, Charlie."
Charlie marched over to where Mike was getting out of his chair and the two men shook hands. It was one of those 'test' greetings where each man's grip was a little too firm and lasted a little too long. With a final squeeze, Charlie finally let go and took his place at the head of the table.
Without another word, he fell on his bowl of soup like a desert island survivor. Throughout the meal, he paused long enough to ask after the boys, check in with his wife and mother, and share a few thoughts with Lacy. Somehow, even though he never spoke directly to Mike, he managed to keep those needle-sharp eyes on him.
When Charlie finished eating, he tossed his napkin on the table and finally addressed Mike. "Let's leave the kitchen to the woman. You and I can go out on the porch and have a little brandy."
Mike laid his napkin on the table. "Sure, I'll go out on the porch with you, but I don't drink."
Charlie smiled. "That's okay. I don't have any brandy."
And that's when Mike began to wonder if he'd stopped taking boxing lessons too soon. Despite his reservations, he followed Charlie out onto the porch. A couple of plastic chairs were propped against the wall and a couch-sized swing was nestled against a corner of the porch, but Charlie didn't offer him a seat.
"I've got to get back in the field," he said, "so I'll make this quick. I guess I can understand you wanting to take a run at Lacy, but I really need to know what your underlying motive is."
"Motive? I don't have a motive. I wasn't even looking for a girlfriend when I met Lacy."
"Yeah? Then why are you dating her?"
Mike didn't mind direct, and blunt didn't bother him much, but he didn't like the sense that he was being interrogated. He purposely waited a moment before he shrugged and said, "I'm dating her because I like her... a lot."
Those needle-sharp eyes bored into him. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you like her so much?"
Frustrated with the conversation, Mike blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "What's not to like about a girl who wears Minnie Mouse pajamas?"
Charlie's eyes bulged out of his head and his nostrils flared to twice their size.
Mike quickly realized his error. "Oh, man," he said. "That didn't come out right."
"Lacy!" Charlie bellowed.
Chapter 14
Before Mike could clear up the misunderstanding, Lacy, her mother, the sister in law, and even the nephews came barreling out onto the porch.
"What's wrong?" Lacy asked, alarmed by the look in her brother's eyes. "What happened?"
Charlie poked his finger against Mike's chest. "How does this fool know what kind of pj's you wear to bed?"
Lacy gasped. "What?"
Her mother lowered her head and quietly said, "Oh, dear."
Caroline had wide eyes and an opened mouth to match.
The boys didn't care about pj's or Mike. They ran on outside and dashed across the yard toward their own home.
Lacy slowly shook her head and laid her hand across her brother's broad shoulder. "It's not what you think," she explained. "I had a stalker who didn't like an ongoing series I've been writing about drugs. He played a few relatively harmless pranks on my porch and then broke one of my windows."
"You had a stalker and didn't tell us? What's your family for?"
"Easy." She patted his shoulder. "I told you, I thought the pranks were harmless until the window was broken. Mike talked me into filing a police report, and then he was kind enough to keep a watch on the place and frequently drove by late in the evening."
At this point Mike wasn't above bolstering his own case. Although Charlie's eyes were no longer needles, they still resembled the tines on a fork.
"Actually," he said. "Lacy didn't know it, but after the broken window I spent the better part of a couple of nights on a sort of stakeout to make sure nothing worse happened."
Charlie gave him a long look followed by a noncommittal nod that Mike chose to take as admiration. Why not?
Then Charlie turned back to Lacy. "Did you catch the guy?"
"I didn't, but Mike did when the kid set off some firecrackers on my porch."
Again Charlie turned to Mike, this time with eyebrows raised high.
Since Mike was sure that by now Lacy's brother was brimming with admiration, he thought he might as well pile it on. "I happened by just before the fireworks went off. I ran after the kid, bull-dogged him, and made the arrest."
Duly impressed, at least that's what his expression suggested, Charlie said, "You arrested the guy? I thought you were an insurance investigator."
"I'm also a former cop." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of plastic cuffs. "Old habits are hard to break."
So impressed with Mike's skills that he could no longer bear to look at him, Charlie turned back to Lacy. "So what does all that have to do with your pj's?"
"I was just getting ready for bed when the fireworks went off, so when I came to the door after Mike made the arrest, I was in my robe." She smiled. "I guess part of my pajama top was sticking out the collar."
"It was," Mike agreed, feeling like he ought to raise his right hand and swear that it was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. "That's when I spotted the little Minnie Mice."
Again a noncommittal nod, and then Charlie turned to Lacy and wrapped her in his arms. As he hugged her he said, "I've got to get back into the field now. Thanks for bringing your new friend by. He might just be all right."
Then he inclined his head toward the door and said to Mike, "Walk with me part way?"
Still clutching the handcuffs—they might come in handy if he'd read Charlie wrong—Mike followed him out the door and down the steps.
As they walked along the gravel driveway, Charlie said, "I expect you think that I overreacted about the pj's."
"You think?" Mike didn't even try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
"All right, I guess I did overreact, but Lacy's had a rough couple of years and I just can't stand the idea of her getting hurt."
"Understandable... to a point."
Charlie paused and faced Mike directly. "You know about her husband's accident and all?"
Mike nodded.
"It's even more than that. Our father was a real rock for Lacy after Danny was killed, and now thanks to Alzheimer's, she's pretty much lost him, too. I guess I'm trying a little too hard to be both brother and father for her these days."
"In that case, I'd say you're doing a darn fine job of it. I've felt like the target of a one-two punch ever since you walked in the door."
Charlie allowed a small grin. "Sorry about that. Lacy likes you, and I expect that's really all I need to know for now."
"If it makes you feel any better, the very last thing I want to do is hurt her in any way. Other than that, I can't tell you what my intentions are because I don't know what they are myself." He quickly added, "I do know that I respect her and intend to treat her like the lady she is at all times."
"Good enough for now." Charlie stuck out his hand. As the two shook on it, he added, "Still, I suppose I'd best make sure you do know that if
you hurt her, I won't hesitate to run you through my new combine, piece by piece."
* * *
Lacy spent most of the drive back to Bismarck apologizing for her brother, and promising Mike that if he ever accompanied her to the family farm again, things would be a lot different. She couldn't actually guarantee that different was equal to better, but since he didn't ask, she didn't bother to put too fine a point on the statement.
Sunday morning Lacy dutifully joined Mike at church. This was not an open-house type service like the one she'd attended at Brian's bidding, so she was a bit nervous over what would be expected of her and how well she would be received. Would they expect her to stand before them and confess her sins? Handle a basket of snakes? Roll down the aisles?
Of course, none of that happened. As it turned out, Lacy thoroughly enjoyed the music, the ceiling didn't fall down on her head, and with the exception of a little 'stink-eye' from one of Mike's admirers, most of the congregation treated her like an old friend. At one point, and because the Hanson baby was constantly on her mind, Lacy even found herself praying for his well-being and recovery. She did not pray for his soul, refusing to think for one moment that he might not have survived his birth.
After church, Mike invited her to join him at his apartment, where they settled down with a bowl of nachos and watched football on his new giant screen television. To Lacy it seemed that North Dakota, which lacked its own team, basically fell into two categories; fans of the Minnesota Vikings, or fans of the Green Bay Packers. Oh, a few followed the exploits of the Denver Broncos, but most folks didn't pay any attention to them.
As a Minnesotan, Mike was naturally a Vikings fan, and as luck would have it, so was Lacy. She wasn't so much a fan of his furnishings, or more correctly, the lack of such. The television practically covered one entire wall in the tiny front room, and other than that, the furniture consisted of a small sofa and a coffee table. When she visited the bathroom, Lacy was pleasantly surprised to see that it was neat and clean, but found only one towel. It was large, red and draped over the shower rod. This was clearly the bathroom of a single man who didn't entertain much.
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