“Do they call the police every time you slam a door?”
“Not yet they haven’t.”
“Or throw the trash that blows into their yard into yours and then pretend they didn’t, even when you saw them do it?”
He slanted her an irked look and didn’t answer.
“Do they shoot at your beloved pet with an air gun whenever they see it outside—”
“Fine, fine,” he admitted in a reluctant tone. “The new neighbors are a little better than Mrs. Phelps. But for the record, Killer is not a ‘beloved pet.’ He was my dad’s cat, so I feel responsible for the mangy beast. That’s the only reason he’s here. He and I tolerate one another, no more.”
“If you didn’t love that animal, you’d have given him away. Lisa Tilden offered to take him. I heard her.”
“Killer growls at Lisa. Besides, he’d just sneak out and come back here. He always does.” Trav frowned. “Most of the time, anyway.”
“He’s consistent,” she agreed. “It’s good you kept him. Besides, I think Lisa was only offering to take him because she was hoping you’d notice her.”
Trav muttered something under his breath and Sarah grinned. “I’m not telling her you said that. It’ll break her heart; she’s had a thing for you since high school.”
He ignored Sarah and began polishing his bike with renewed vigor.
Still grinning, she looked past Trav to the dilapidated house beyond. “Grace and her family are special. Ava says the maple tree in the front yard loves them. She can tell because the leaves fall into a perfect circle with the stems pointing—”
“Stop,” he ground out. “I don’t want to hear what your sister thinks the maple tree ‘feels,’ or what books whisper to you, or what weird magic showed up in some pie your sister Ella cooked, or anything else about you and your weird family.”
“You know it’s true. You’ve seen things.”
“Never while sober.” He shot her a hard look. “If I believed that nonsense now that I’m a grown-up, I’d also have to admit that unicorns fart rainbows, and that’s too far of a bridge to cross. All of you Doves have a bad case of NABS.”
“What’s that?”
“New age bullshit.”
She laughed. “No. How do you really feel?”
He grinned and tossed the rag back into the bucket. “Reality, Sarah. That’s all I’m interested in.”
“Fine. Reality, then.” Trav never admitted that he knew she had a special connection with books, and that was fine with her. She didn’t need approval from her brother-from-another-mother. Just his friendship. “Here’s some reality for you. Our new neighbor is exactly the type of woman you usually date.”
“You don’t know what type of woman I usually date,” he growled. “I haven’t been on a date since I got back.”
That was true, although it wasn’t because the women of Dove Pond hadn’t tried. Sarah could name four right now who’d made fools of themselves trying to get his attention. “Admit it—she’s your type. She’s hot and she dresses well. All your previous girlfriends, at least the ones I knew, fit that same bill.”
“It wouldn’t matter if she was hot enough to strike a match, she has a kid.”
“You don’t like kids?”
“Nope.” He began waxing the tank. A deep, lipstick red, it had so many layers of lacquer on it that it always looked wet.
“You can’t dislike sweet, innocent children. That’s inhumane.”
“Children are fine so long as I don’t have to see, hear, or talk to them. And I especially don’t like the ones who stare at me over my fence as if they’re planning on sneaking over it the first time my back is turned.”
“You’re talking about Daisy.”
“Every day for two weeks now that kid has stood at that damned fence and stared at me. One day she’ll jump it and come into my yard again.”
“Again?” Oho, what’s this? He’s met Daisy.
He ignored her. “I know she’ll do it, and she knows she’ll do it, and when it happens, she and I are going to have a reckoning.” He polished his bike with a fierceness that made Sarah raise her brows.
“Maybe you’re approaching this wrong. Why don’t you reach out to Daisy? See if she’d like a ride on your motorcycle since she stares at it all the time.”
“No.”
“Come on. Just take her for a short ride one day when you’re not busy. It could help.”
“Or not.”
“Come on, Trav. You should get to know her. You might like her; she’s not like other kids.”
“How would you know what she’s like?”
“I visited the Wheeler house a few times last week after work, so I’ve talked to her.” And Mrs. Giano, too, who was just as charming as Sarah had suspected, if a bit vague at times.
“Does the Dragon Lady know about these visits?”
That was actually a pretty good name for Grace. Sarah shrugged. “I didn’t ask anyone to keep it quiet, so I guess she does.”
“You said you’d been visiting after work.”
“So?”
“Three times, maybe? Like on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday, when the library closes an hour earlier than town hall?” When she didn’t answer, he smirked. “You’ve been visiting when she wasn’t home.”
Damn it. Trust Trav to figure that out. “Fine. I might have timed it that way. I want to get to know our Dragon Lady, but she’s a little standoffish.” Since the last meeting of the social club, Sarah had stopped by town hall no fewer than four times, and every time Grace had politely said she was “too busy to chat” but that she’d call when she “had a moment.”
So far, no “moment” had happened. “She’s not the warm and friendly type,” Sarah said sourly. “So I thought I should get to know her family first.”
Trav shook his head. “You’re a troublemaker, Dove.”
“No, I’m not. I just really, really want to be her friend.”
“Why?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Sarah didn’t dare tell Trav that Charlotte Dove’s ancient journal had announced that Grace had to—must—stay in town, as he would just scoff. Sarah decided a silent shrug was the only answer she could safely give.
“So you’re trying to get to know her through her family. And let me guess—you sent her a book, too.”
Sarah had, of course. Aware of Trav’s dark gaze, she said in a lofty tone, “Maybe.”
He gave a disbelieving snort.
She ignored it. Truth be told, she hadn’t had a choice in the matter. The book had followed her for a week, showing up in odd places, and demanding to be delivered into Grace’s hands. Sarah could have kissed Linda Robinson when she’d offered to deliver it for her.
“You’ll never learn, will you?” Trav pulled a bottle of chrome cleaner from his bucket and set to work on the handlebars. “You’re rushing things. A woman like that doesn’t trust just anyone. She’s a numbers person, a financial whiz, right? She quit her job with some huge firm in Charlotte to bring her mother—or rather, her foster mother—back to Dove Pond, where the old lady grew up, hoping to ease some of the effects of her Alzheimer’s. Grace just got here, Sarah. And a month isn’t that long of a time. Numbers people don’t like being rushed, so back off.”
Sarah frowned. “How do you know all of that?”
“You didn’t?”
“Not all of it, no.”
He looked suitably smug. “Well, well, well. I’m better informed than the town gossip. How about that.”
“I’m not the town gossip,” Sarah said with a dismissive sniff as she lifted up on her toes to see Grace’s house better. “Spill. Tell me everything you know.”
“Why should I?”
“Because if you don’t, I’m going to march over there and tell the Dragon Lady you think she’s hot. Well . . . I will as soon as she’s home. Her car isn’t in the driveway.”
His smugness vanished. “You wouldn’t.”
“I wo
uld. And I’d be telling her the truth, because I’ve seen you look at her.” To Sarah’s amusement, his face reddened.
After a chilly moment, he said in a grudging tone, “You’re a hard woman, Dove.”
She flashed a smile. “Like a rock, Parker.”
He threw the dirty rag into the bucket. “I’ll tell you what little I know, but only because you feed Killer whenever I have to work late and not because you’re trying to blackmail me.”
“Just tell me what you know.”
“Fine. First of all, she only plans on being here a year, if that.”
“So she said, but she needs to stay longer.” The words slipped out before Sarah could stop them.
Trav’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t have a voice in that decision.”
“I know, but . . .” Sarah hadn’t meant to say as much as she had, but it was too late to take it back now. “All I know is that Grace needs to stay in Dove Pond so she can accomplish”—Sarah waved her hand vaguely—“things.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, but whatever it is, she needs to stay here longer than a year.” Like forever.
“She won’t do it.”
“She might,” Sarah insisted. “Once she sees all Dove Pond has to offer, she’ll want to stay.”
Trav burst out laughing, which didn’t help matters. “Good luck with that.”
“Thanks.” Sarah sent him an impatient look. “What else did you find out?”
“Her sister died a few months ago from an overdose.”
“Dear God. I knew her sister had died, but I didn’t know how or when.” Sarah tried to imagine how she’d feel if she’d lost one of her sisters in such a way and found that she couldn’t. She suddenly wanted to hug Ava. “That poor family.”
“Apparently Grace’s sister wasn’t much of a mother, either, as she’d left Daisy in Mrs. Giano’s care years earlier. According to my source, who heard it from someone who knows Mrs. Giano well, Grace and her sister had a troubled background. To compensate, Grace became too responsible, too focused on being perfect.”
“That explains a lot.”
“Meanwhile, her sister went in the opposite direction. She couldn’t keep a job, lied constantly, stole money, abandoned her daughter at Mrs. Giano’s for weeks on end, and then eventually left her there for good.”
“And now Grace is responsible for both her niece and Mrs. Giano.” This was so much worse than Sarah had imagined. “If something like that had happened to me, I would be so angry.”
Trav’s gaze moved to the Wheeler house. “I would be, too.” He said the words in a low voice as if considering them for the first time. He shook his head and then turned back to his bike.
Sarah sent Travis a curious look. “Who’s your source?”
He shrugged and started cleaning the headlight.
“Ah. It was Blake, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
It took all her self-control not to turn red, but she thought she managed it well enough. She wondered how Blake had found out so much about their new neighbors, but then she remembered that his mother had been close to Mrs. Phelps, who was related to Mrs. Giano, so— Yup. That has to be it.
Sarah wished she could ask Blake directly what else he’d heard, but that would never happen. “The Incident” had dug a ditch between her and Blake that could never be bridged. It had ended not only their romantic relationship but their friendship as well. And it was all thanks to my own stupid foolishness.
Sarah shoved aside a mountain of old regret just as Grace’s Honda pulled into the driveway. Grace climbed out, stopping to collect two grocery bags from her trunk. She wasn’t wearing a suit today, and her dark hair was loose, her face partially obscured by a large pair of sunglasses.
“How old do you think she is?” Sarah mused.
“She’d have to have a college degree and at least a few years of experience to have a successful job in finance.”
“Which makes her about our age, maybe a little more.” Sarah was twenty-five, although she felt older. “I’d heard she had a crazy-good job in Charlotte. I bet the mayor was surprised she accepted the clerk position.”
“I expect so. She’s way out of this town’s league.”
“Hmm.” Sarah wished she knew how to dress the way Grace did. It was a sleepy Sunday afternoon, but the woman was New York chic in a yellow sundress and a pair of white, strappy sandals. She should have been lounging on the deck of a yacht instead of carrying bags of groceries into a faded rental house.
“There’s something about her.” Sarah watched Grace disappear inside. “Don’t you think?”
He shrugged but didn’t argue.
Bang! The screen door slammed closed at the Wheeler house. Grace walked back to the car, this time with Mrs. Giano beside her.
Mrs. Giano fascinated Sarah. There was something old-world about her. Dressed in a flowered dress with a flowered shawl, the tiny old woman was so encircled by petals that it looked as if she were floating through a garden. She walked beside Grace a little unsteadily, clutching a large straw purse as if afraid someone would steal it.
“Damn.”
Sarah glanced at Trav.
A bleakness had settled over him. At Sarah’s questioning gaze, he said, “She reminds me of Dad. She’s more unstable than when they first moved in; she’s getting worse.” With a regretful shake of his head, he picked up the bucket and headed into his garage.
Sarah watched as Grace helped her mother into the car and then turned back toward the house. “Daisy!” she called.
The screen door slammed again as Daisy came hopping out of the house with her shoes in her hand. She wore a pair of blue jeans and a powder blue shirt, a sparkling tiara nestled in her mussy blond curls. She danced rather than walked, whirling off the sidewalk and into the center of the yard, where, apparently delighted by the cool, thick grass under her bare feet, she started to twirl madly.
A sharp word from Grace stopped the girl dead in her tracks, her shoulders slumping as if she’d been denied air.
Trav came out of the garage, holding two open bottles of beer. He handed one to Sarah and followed her gaze back to where Daisy was now dragging her feet as she walked toward the car. “They’re tiny, the lot of them,” he said in an irritated tone. “Like yard gnomes.”
“Like fairies,” Sarah corrected as she took a cautious sip. “They’re delicate, otherworldly fairies.”
Trav snorted. “Delicate? The old woman maybe. But not the other two.”
“You can’t say that sweet little girl isn’t delicate. Just look at her.”
“That ‘sweet little girl,’ as you call her, can switch from being a chatterbox to a sullen brat in under a second. I’ve seen it happen. As for her aunt, she’s hard as steel. Every once in a while, she’ll slash you with a look that cuts to the bone.”
“What? No criticism for poor old Mrs. Giano?”
“She’s the worst. She’s a cat thief.”
Sarah blinked. “A what?”
“She entices Killer up to her house every damn night with a bowl of milk.”
“So? You don’t like Killer, anyway. I don’t see why that—”
“It’s still theft,” Trav muttered. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
Grace opened the car door to the back seat, speaking sharply to Daisy, who was walking ever so slowly, dragging her feet through the grass in the most reluctant way possible.
Sarah couldn’t hear Grace’s words, but the effect was plain as day. Trav had been right when he’d said the little girl could change in an instant. Daisy’s chin went up, her shoulders went down, and she snapped back an answer in a sullen tone that could have soured milk.
It might have been a normal reaction for a moody preteen, but it was startling coming from a mere child.
“She’s a bit of a hellion, isn’t she?” Trav said, taking a drink of his beer.
“Poor thing,” Sarah murmured.
“Don’t start.” Trav fi
nished the beer and tossed the empty bottle into the trash can, where it landed with a hollow clunk. He pulled his shiny black helmet out of a saddlebag and slid his keys from his pocket. As he did so, he shot an impatient look at Sarah. “Stop looking as if you want to adopt that girl. She already has a family.”
“Does she have any friends? I’ve never seen any other kids over there. Have you?”
“How would I know? I don’t watch them.”
Sarah raised her brows and waited.
He scowled. “No, I haven’t seen any other kids over there.”
“That’s what I thought. I wish Grace would bring Daisy to the library for story hour. There are a bunch of girls about her age who come every week.”
“Don’t get involved.”
“I have to. Trav, that family belongs here.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But I do. I really do.”
His brows lowered. “How?”
She shrugged, knowing he’d scoff if she told him the truth. “I just have a feeling about it, that’s all.”
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” He tugged on his helmet and adjusted the strap. “I’ll bet you they leave the second their lease runs out. If I’m right, you’ll cook me a pan of lasagna once a month for a year.”
“And if I’m right and they stay, then you can wash and wax my truck once a month for a year.”
“You’re on, Dove.” Trav swung his leg over his bike and lifted it upright. He slid the key into the ignition and a second later the engine roared to life, echoing loudly.
Grace had just closed the car door behind Daisy, but now she turned toward them, obviously irked at the roar.
Trav had noted Grace’s scowl, and he answered by revving his engine again, the noise so loud it rattled against the houses, bouncing like an invisible ball.
Grace slid her sunglasses to the tip of her nose and looked Trav up and then down, all with a flat, unimpressed air, as if she were examining him for defects and found more than she could count. And then—using only her middle finger—she slowly slid her sunglasses back into place.
Sarah laughed. “You’ve been burned, Parker,” she yelled over the engine noise.
Trav sent a fuming glare at Grace, who had already turned away and was climbing into her car. She shut the door with extra force, and a moment later, the car backed out of the drive and disappeared from sight.
The Book Charmer Page 15