Buy А Whisker

Chapter 3

Liz came back just before five to pick up Avery. It had turned out to be a busy afternoon, not Canadian skiers this time, though. We’d had a busload of Japanese tourists on a snow tour through New England. They’d taken great delight in posing for pictures next to the snowbanks in the parking lot, and they’d bought every refurbished quilt and vintage tablecloth in the shop.

Avery was vacuuming and Rose was out back with Mac. I walked over to Liz, put both hands on her shoulders and rested my chin on them. She smelled like lavender talc.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.

I knew she meant letting Rose have the apartment.

“I’m sure,” I said.

“I’ll pay for whatever you need to get the place ready.”

“No, you won’t,” I said. “I already have everything. Liam got me a great set of kitchen cabinets for a song from a rehab he did. They were only a year old and they’re just like new. Mac’s going to do the work, and we’ll work out some kind of compensation.”

My brother, Liam—who, strictly speaking, was my stepbrother; our parents had married when we were little—was a building contractor. He was very involved in the small-house movement.

“I think you’re going to have to be creative about that,” Liz said.

I nodded, making my chin bounce against my interlaced fingers. “I know. So thank you for the offer, but I have it all covered.”

“You’re a stubborn child,” Liz said. She turned her head and narrowed her eyes at me, but I could hear the affection in her voice.

I stretched forward and kissed her cheek before I dropped my hands and straightened up. “That’s because I spent my formative years with all of you.”

“Well, at least let me take you out to Sam’s for supper,” Liz said. “Avery is going over to Rose’s to bake.” Unlike Liz, Rose loved to cook. Not only was she teaching Avery to bake, but she was trying to teach me some basic cooking skills. So far Avery was the better student.

Supper with Liz or my specialty, a scrambled-egg sandwich with the two cardboard tomatoes from my fridge. It was an easy choice.

“Okay,” I said.

We agreed on a time, and I went to cash out.

Liz left with Rose and Avery.

“Would you like a ride?” I asked Mac.

“I’m good,” he said, pulling up the hood of his parka. He gestured at the large chandelier that was sitting on a tarp in front of a section of shelving. “What do you think? It’s pretty much cleaned up.”

The chandelier was cast bronze, an Art Deco–style from the 1920s, according to my research. The circular body of the light was about two feet across, with a cutwork design of four phoenixes rising from the ashes. Behind the cutwork was a red glass shade. We’d bought it from a department store in Portland that was closing. And Jon West had expressed interest in buying it. If the harbor-front project went ahead, the beautiful old light could end up in the lobby of the proposed hotel.

I walked over for a closer look. “Oh, Mac, it looks good,” I said. What I’d been afraid was patina caused by aging had turned out to be just dust and grime. Now that both the metal and the glass were clean, the beauty of the light was even more apparent.

“Glad you like it,” he said. “We should be able to turn a decent profit. And you might want to thank Avery. She spent a lot of time working on that glass shade with a toothbrush.”

“I will,” I said.

I locked up my office, and when I came back downstairs, I found Elvis was sitting by the back door, waiting for me.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” I said. I opened the door, and he stuck his furry black nose outside and promptly sat down.

“Let’s go,” I urged.

He looked up at me and meowed.

I knew what he wanted. “You can walk,” I said.

He craned his neck around the door for another look at the parking lot. Then he looked at me again, tipping his head to one side so I couldn’t miss the ropy diagonal scar that cut across his nose.

“Just because you have that battle scar doesn’t mean I should carry you,” I said.

The vet had no idea how Elvis had gotten his war wound. “I’ll bet you the other guy looked worse, though,” he’d said.

Elvis was still watching me. He didn’t even twitch a whisker.

I pulled on my gloves. “Anyway, I can’t carry you. I already have a load.” In addition to my purse, I had a large tote bag full of table runners that I was hoping my homemade stain fighter would work on.

Elvis got up, walked over to the canvas carryall and put a paw on top.

“No. You can’t ride in there. I don’t want cat hair all over those runners.”

He dipped his head, licked his chest several times and then shot me an expectant look.

I blew out an exasperated breath. I was arguing with a cat. A cat! And who was I kidding? He was winning.

I’d had Elvis for the past seven months. He’d just appeared one day, down along the harbor, mooching from several different businesses, including The Black Bear. He had shown up at the pub about every third day for a couple of weeks. No one seemed to know who owned the cat. That scar on his nose wasn’t new; neither were a couple of others on his back, hidden by his fur. Sam had managed to con me into taking the cat. I was pretty sure Elvis had been in on the scam, too.

He was very social, I’d discovered. He’d quickly made himself at home in the shop, charming customers who could easily get distracted by his war wounds and end up spending more than they’d intended. I’d quickly realized that Elvis’s skill at sales wasn’t his only ability. Strange as it sounds, he had an uncanny knack for figuring out when someone was lying. When someone was stroking his fur, if they were not being completely honest about whatever they happened to be talking about, he somehow knew, the knowledge evident in the disdainful expression on his furry face.

Mac had pointed out that researchers had discovered dogs had a part of their brains devoted to decoding emotions in people’s voices, so why couldn’t Elvis decode lies from the truth? Jess’s theory was that Elvis was the feline version of a polygraph. Somehow he was responding to changes in a person’s heartbeat, breathing and skin. It was as good an explanation as any. The problem was the kitty lie detector acted as one only when it suited him.

I slid the strap of my purse over one shoulder, put the tote bag over the other and bent down to pick him up. “This doesn’t mean you’ve won,” I said. “It just means I don’t want to stand here all night.”

“Murr,” he said. He looked up at me, a guileless look in his green eyes. We both knew who had won.

“Why do I even have these . . . discussions with you?” I said to him. He regarded me thoughtfully, as though he couldn’t figure it out, either.

Juggling purse, bag and cat, I managed to get the door locked and hurried across the lot to the SUV. I put everything, including Elvis, on the passenger side. The cat shook himself and then got settled on the seat. As I pulled out of the lot, he looked both ways. Whoever Elvis had belonged to before me had clearly driven around with him a lot. He’d look both ways at an intersection or a stop sign, and he’d even turn to check over his shoulder when I backed up. Once he’d meowed loudly at me when I’d run a yellow light. It was like having a little furry backseat driver.

Once we were home, I got Elvis some fresh water and a little something to eat. Then I went into the bedroom to change. It was cold, but I wanted to walk downtown to meet Liz instead of taking the SUV, so I put on leggings under my jeans, along with a lavender turtleneck and a heavy cable-knit sweater over that. I stuck my feet into my favorite fleece-lined booties and went out to the kitchen.

“Want to go take a look at the apartment?” I said to Elvis. He was washing his face, but he took a couple more swipes behind his ear and came over to me.

“Merow!” he said with enthusiasm.

I’d ended up with my house after a series of trades that had started when I’d cleaned out an old barn and the owner had told me I could have the rusting Volkswagen Beetle I’d discovered inside just for getting it off the property. Eventually I’d ended up with the chance to buy the old Victorian plus a pretty decent down payment for it. My apartment was on the main floor at the front. Gram had the second-floor unit. I wasn’t sure if she and her new husband, John, would keep it, or if they’d eventually want something bigger. At the moment they were in New Orleans for the winter, building houses for the charity Home for Good. I missed Gram, but I hadn’t seen her so happy in a long time.

The apartment Rose would be taking overlooked the backyard. Like Gram’s place, it had a covered verandah. I let myself into the unit and stood in the kitchen, looking around at all there still was to do. It was the room that needed the most work. The bottom cupboards were in place and so was the countertop, but the doors hadn’t been hung, and there was no sink or taps and no upper cabinets at all.

The walls were going to need to be touched up as well. Elvis was nosing around in the living room where the cabinet uppers were stacked on a tarp. The walls and the ceiling in there needed a couple coats of paint.

“Did I undersell how much there still is to do?” I asked the cat.

He looked around the room and made a sound halfway between a burp and a snort. I bent over and scooped him up. “Thank you for that vote of confidence,” I said.

He leaned over and licked my ear.

Elvis was contentedly ensconced in front of Jeopardy! when I headed out, the TV set on a timer to shut off when the game show was over. He watched the show faithfully, Monday through Friday. I had no idea why he liked it so much. Maybe it was the theme music, maybe it was host, Alex Trebek, or for all I knew, maybe Elvis was playing along at home.

I got to The Black Bear about five minutes before Liz. The place was only about a third full, typical for a Tuesday in January, I knew. Sam gave me a hug and showed me to a booth along the back wall. He was tall and lean. His shaggy hair was a mix of blond and white, and he was usually wearing a pair of dollar-store reading glasses.

“Is Jess meeting you?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. Liz.”

“What can I get you while you wait?”

“I’m not driving,” I said. “So maybe a glass of wine.”

“I have this new hot-toddy recipe,” Sam said, running his fingers over his beard. “Want to try it?”

I eyed him suspiciously. Sam’s drink concoctions had a tendency to lead to a person waking up wearing a sombrero, with their cheek drool-stuck to the table and no memory of the previous twelve hours.

“What’s in it?” I said.

“Cranberry juice, apple cider, Patrón, Drambuie and some fresh lime,” he said, ticking off each ingredient on his fingers.

“Tequila and apple cider?” I shook my head. “I think I’ll just stick with a glass of white wine.”

Sam leaned over to plant a kiss on the top of my head. “Good choice,” he said. “I’ll send someone right over with it.”

Liz arrived just as my glass of wine did. “I’ll have a cup of coffee, please,” she said to our waiter. “And it’s one check. Mine.”

He nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

Liz tossed her coat onto the seat of the booth and slid in next to it.

“What are Avery and Rose making?” I asked.

“Some kind of five-layer lemon cake with the raspberry preserves Rose put up last fall. Avery picked all the berries for her.”

“It sounds good,” I said, rubbing my hands, which were still cold, together. Maybe I should have ordered the hot toddy after all, I thought.

“It probably will be,” Liz said as the waiter came back with her steaming mug of coffee. “I don’t have the patience to teach Avery how to bake. Not that I bake anyway.”

We both ordered the hot turkey sandwich. I knew the turkey would have been roasted earlier in the day, the gravy hadn’t come out of a can and the thick slices of multigrain bread had come from Lily’s in the morning order.

Liz looked around. “It’s quiet,” she said. “I was hoping we’d have a few more buses of tourists from that snow tour.”

“I talked to the bus driver from today’s group,” I said. “There should be a couple more buses through on the weekend.”

“And if we get a little more snow, we should see more skiers,” Liz said, reaching for the tiny pitcher of cream the waiter had brought when he’d brought her coffee.

“Were you at the meeting about North Landing last night?” I asked.

“Oh yes.” She tapped one peach-hued nail on the table. “You know, even with the Japanese tourists and the Canadian skiers, off-season revenue for most of the businesses in town is down close to ten percent.”

I wasn’t surprised. Although I hadn’t been in business last winter, my profits were off about eight percent from my estimates. Luckily, the online store was making up the difference.

I traced the rim of my wineglass with a finger. “Do you think there’s any way the town can force Lily to sell the bakery?” I asked.

“No,” Liz said with a shake of her head. “I don’t see how they can make eminent domain—or anything else for that matter—work. A good lawyer could argue against the public-use clause.”

I exhaled loudly. “Is there a chance that Lily can be persuaded to change her mind?”

Liz laughed, but there wasn’t any real humor in the sound. “Name someone who hasn’t tried. A couple of people spoke to Caroline, for all the good it did—which was none.”

Caroline was Lily’s mother. I sometimes saw her running at the track when I was there. I had no idea how she felt about the development project. I did know that Caroline was the kind of person who’d support her daughter no matter what her own opinion was. My own mother was the same way.

The waiter arrived then with our sandwiches. They came with a side of cranberry chutney and another of apple carrot salad.

Liz picked up her knife and fork, cut a bite of her sandwich and ate it. “Oh, that’s good,” she said. She set down her fork and reached for her coffee. “You know, if the development were to go ahead, I could live in one of the new apartments, eat here whenever I felt like it and never have to lay eyes on one of Avery’s kale frittatas again.”

“Kale is good for you,” I said, putting a forkful of cranberry chutney on top of my sandwich.

“Yes, I’m sure you eat it all the time,” Liz said, raising her eyebrows over the top of her glasses.

“Avery is good for you, too,” I said.

“Point to you,” she said with a smile.

“Would you really sell your house and move into an apartment?” I asked.

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Avery won’t be with me forever, and if you tell Rose this, I’ll smack you with my purse, but I don’t think I’d like Legacy Place any more than she has.”

I made an X on my chest. “Your secret is safe with me.”

We ate without talking for a couple of minutes. Then I thought of something I’d meant to ask Jess. “Liz, isn’t there some way the development could just be built around Lily’s Bakery?”

Liz put down her fork and knife, looked around for our waiter and, when she caught his eye, pointed to her empty coffee cup. “You’re not the first person to think of that, and no, it can’t. You see, the basements of the buildings on either side are connected to the basement of the bakery. At least they were when the buildings on that whole end of the street were constructed. There are fire doors between each one, but they’re connected.”

I frowned at her. “Connected? How?”

“From the bakery and the bookstore right on down to that old building that belongs to Eamon Kennedy, at one time the basement was all just a big common dirt cellar for storage. Rumor has it that space was part of the underground railway at one point.”

“I had no idea,” I said.

Liz shrugged. “Most people don’t, but my first husband was a bit of a history buff. I’ve crawled around just about every old building in town. Frankly, I think it’s a part of North Harbor history we should talk more about.”

I tried to imagine Liz in her high heels and perfect manicure crawling around the dirt-floor basement of some old building. The mental image made me smile, and I bent my head over my plate.

“Never mind grinning, missy,” Liz said tartly as though she’d just read my mind. “Just because I clean up well doesn’t mean I can’t get down and dirty.”

I lifted my head and smiled at her. “I’ll remember that,” I said. I took another sip of my wine. “If the basements are all closed off now, why couldn’t the developer just tear down the other buildings and leave the bakery?”

The waiter came with more coffee. Liz added cream to hers and stirred before she answered. “I’m no structural engineer, but as I understand it, it has to do with the integrity of the common outside stone walls. Basically, if the other basement walls are taken down, Lily’s will collapse as well, like a row of dominoes. Without her property, Jon West can’t get a building permit to tear down the buildings around the bakery.”

She picked up her cup. “There was some talk about just working around the bakery anyway, but since the engineer’s report details the possible damage to the building if they go ahead, Lily would be able to sue, well, practically everyone if her basement collapsed. She could keep the whole project tied up in court for years.”

“No wonder there’s so much animosity toward her,” I said, skewering a chunk of turkey and swirling it through a puddle of gravy on my plate.

“You heard about the—I don’t know whether to call them ‘pranks’ or ‘vandalism,’” Liz said.

I nodded. “I didn’t just hear. I saw.”

Liz frowned at me. “What do you mean ‘saw’?”

“I stopped in for coffee. It looked as though someone had hurled about a dozen eggs at the front window.”

“What’s the world coming to?” Liz asked, shaking her head. She tried the apple carrot salad and gave a murmur of approval. “That kind of childish behavior isn’t going to fix anything.”

I couldn’t help playing devil’s advocate. “I know,” I said, nodding my agreement, “but when some people get frustrated, they also get stupid.”

“Stupid is as stupid does,” Liz retorted, pushing up her glasses with one finger. “I’m frustrated with the whole situation, but you don’t see me sneaking around in the middle of the night toilet papering the bakery.”

“Someone toilet papered the bakery?” I said, my fork paused in midair.

Liz made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “No, no, no. I was just trying to make a point about how ill-advised some people’s behavior can be. The Emmerson Foundation holds the mortgages on two of the buildings that would be coming down for the development. Both of them are in default, and I don’t see the owners coming up with the money anytime soon. If the North Landing project falls through, the foundation will be out more than a million dollars. That’s money that was earmarked for upgrades to the Sunshine Camp.”

I leaned against the back of the booth. “Oh, Liz, I had no idea that much money was involved.”

“Well, it isn’t exactly something I’ve been trumpeting all over town.” She twisted her gold wristwatch around her arm. “I did do something that in retrospect was ill-advised, though.”

“What was it?” I asked, crossing my fingers figuratively if not literally that I wasn’t going to have to call on Josh Evans’s legal skills once I heard her confession.

Liz sighed. “When I said a couple of people talked to Caroline, well, I was one of them.”

“Oh, Liz,” I said softly.

She waved a hand at me. “I know. It was a stupid idea, trying to get to Lily through her mother. Caroline was nice about it, nicer than I probably would have been in the same position.”

I pulled my hands through my hair, gathered it all at the nape of my neck and let it fall on my shoulders again. It had been a long day and I was getting tired.

“What time were you at the store this morning?” Liz asked, clearly trying to change the subject away from Lily and the waterfront development.

“Oh-dark-thirty,” I said.

One well-groomed eyebrow went up, but Liz didn’t say anything.

“I’m still sanding paint off that old dresser, and I wanted to put the last coat of clear wax on the chair I’ve been working on so Mac can take it down to Jess. She’s going to reupholster it for me.”

“And did you?”

I nodded, reaching for my wineglass.

“Good,” Liz said. “Then there’s no reason to get up with the chickens tomorrow morning.”

“Except I have to pick up five dozen rolls for the hot-lunch program at the school first thing in the morning.” I held up a finger. “Remind Avery that I’m picking her up early, too. She’s going to help at the school, since she doesn’t have any classes herself tomorrow.”

“I’ll remind her,” Liz said. “When you consider what tuition costs at that private school of hers, you’d think they’d be in classes a little more often.”

I didn’t say anything. I just looked at her across the table.

She set her cup down. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to make a speech about how in my day I walked four miles to school barefoot through six feet of snow, uphill both ways.”

“I thought it was five miles,” I said, raising an eyebrow at her.

Liz grinned. “Maybe if I’m lucky Avery won’t have time to make me one of those hideous green-juice concoctions for my breakfast.” Her blue eyes narrowed, she tipped her head to one side and looked thoughtfully at me.

I shook my head. “Don’t even think about sending that child out to my car with some kind of organic kale smoothie,” I warned, “or Rose won’t be the only one you’ll have to watch around your pillows!”

Liz laughed. She had a great laugh, smoky and husky, and it made me glad all over again that I’d decided to come back to North Harbor after my radio career had gotten derailed.

We finished the meal talking about my grandmother and John and the house-building project they were working on in New Orleans. We both passed on dessert.

“Where are you parked?” I asked when we stepped out on to the sidewalk in front of The Black Bear.

Liz pointed down the street.

“I’ll walk you down,” I said, hooking my arm through hers.

She stuck out her foot in a black leather ankle boot with a two-inch spike heel. “Are you suggesting I can’t walk in these? Or are you afraid I’m too decrepit to make it on my own?” she teased.

“Maybe I’m afraid I’m too decrepit to make it to the corner,” I countered.

As we came level with Lily’s Bakery, I caught sight of Lily inside, wiping down the top of a small round table by the front window. And she caught sight of us. Don’t come out, I thought. But she dropped the cloth on the table and headed for the front door. I let out a breath, and Liz patted my arm with a gloved hand.

“It’s all right, Sarah,” she said softly.

Lily stepped in front of us on the sidewalk, blocking our way. Her dark-brown eyes flashed with anger, and the color was high in her cheeks.

“You had no right to try to do an end run around me by going to my mother,” she said to Liz, her normally soft voice laced with anger. Her long brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. She didn’t have a jacket on, only a white-and-blue-plaid shirt over a thermal tee and jeans, but she didn’t seem to notice the cold.

“You’re right,” Liz said in a calm, steady voice. “And I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t change anything,” Lily said. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. “I’m not selling. Stop pressuring me. Stop hassling me. And stay the hell out of my business!” She turned and disappeared back into the bakery.

I felt a tremor go through Liz’s arm and I didn’t think it was due to the cold.

“I’ve never seen Lily that angry,” I said.

Liz swallowed and looked back over her shoulder at the little shop as we started walking toward the car again. “Neither have I,” she said. “I should have known Caroline would tell her.”

“That was very nice, apologizing to her like that.”

“I shouldn’t have gone to her mother,” Liz said, giving me a sideways look. “I don’t know why I thought it would make a difference. Lily’s her baby. Of course she’s going to stand by her.”

“It’ll work out,” I said as we came level with Liz’s car. “If this project doesn’t work out, maybe some other developer will be interested. Maybe someone will come up with a smaller project, a different one.”

Liz smiled at me. “Sometimes you’re so like your grandmother,” she said. She let go of my arm and touched my cheek for a moment before pulling out her car keys. “Can I drive you home?” she offered.

I shook my head. “Thanks, but it’s not windy and my coat is warm. I think I’ll walk. But thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome, my dear,” she said. “I’ll make sure Avery is ready in the morning. Have a good night.”

I waited until Liz pulled away from the curb. She looked in her rearview mirror and waved at me. I waved back; then I stepped to the curb and looked both ways, planning to jaywalk instead of going back to the corner to cross.

“You’re not planning on trying to cross the street, are you?” a voice said behind me. “Because that would be against the law, and I’d be forced to make a citizen’s arrest.”

I turned to see Nick Elliot standing behind me. He was wearing a black quilted jacket, a black-and-red knitted cap over his sandy hair and a big smile.

I folded my arms over my chest. “Let’s just say, hypothetically of course, that I was thinking about crossing here instead of at the corner: How would you be planning on apprehending me? I’m pretty fast.”

He frowned in mock seriousness. “Trying to avoid capture would be a waste of time. I know where you live.” He paused. “And I’d tell my mother on you.”

I held up a hand. “Okay. You win. I’ll walk to the corner. I don’t want any trouble with Charlotte Elliot.”

Nick laughed, his chocolate-brown eyes gleaming. I started across the sidewalk toward him and stepped on a small patch of ice. My foot skidded out from under me, and I pitched forward, right into Nick’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” he said, holding me tightly.

My hands had landed on his chest. I caught the scent of his Hugo aftershave, the same one he used to wear when we were teenagers. Jess swore the reason he still wore it was because he was still hung up on me. I thought habit was the more likely reason. That and I’d noticed Charlotte had bought it for him at Christmas.

“You all right?” Nick asked.

I was suddenly aware that his arms were still around me. And it was wonderfully warm, pressed up against his broad chest.

“I’m okay,” I said, taking a small step back out of his embrace.

Nick kept one hand on my arm. “Be careful. That’s not the first patch of ice I’ve seen tonight.”

I smiled up at him. “See? If I’d crossed the street, I’d be fine.”

He grinned. “No one ever said staying on the straight and narrow was easy.”

My mouth moved, but I didn’t say anything for a moment. Then I shook my head. “Nope,” I said. “I was trying to work in ‘heading down a slippery slope into a life of crime,’ but I can’t do it.”

Nick laughed. “What are you doing down here anyway?”

“I had supper with Liz at The Black Bear. I was just on my way home. What about you?”

He gestured over his shoulder. “I was at the bookstore.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you parked close by, or did you walk?”

“I walked,” I said.

“So did I.” He smiled. “Can I walk you home?”

“I don’t know,” I said, working to keep a straight face. “Can you?”

Nick laughed and shook his head. “You spend too much time with my mother.” He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously. I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I promise not to break any laws on the way there.”

He smiled at me. “Do you remember what I told you the last time I walked you home?”

That had been more than three months ago. But I remembered. “You said, ‘I am my mother’s son.’”

“Uh-huh,” he said, turning up the collar of his jacket, “and you said that we both get that same look when we’ve got our minds set on something.”

“In other words, don’t argue.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

I pulled up the zipper of my coat, pulled the sleeves down, and tied my scarf a bit tighter at my throat.

With a hand still on my arm, Nick moved me to his left side and tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow. “Just so you don’t get any ideas about breaking the law when we have to cross the street.” The smile went all the way up to his dark eyes.

We walked back to the corner, crossed over and headed down the street in the direction of my house. I was acutely aware of the warmth of Nick’s body beside me, and it seemed I could still smell his aftershave. My heart seemed to be beating a lot faster than made sense.

This was stupid, I told myself. This was Nick I was walking arm in arm with, not some romance-novel cover boy. Nick, whom I’d known since I was a kid. Nick, who once wiped his nose on my Mighty Morphin Power Rangers T-shirt.

I realized he’d just said something to me and I’d missed it. “I’m sorry. What did you say?” I asked.

“I just asked if you and Jess were going to be at the pub Thursday night. Where were you?”

“I was just thinking that you still owe me a T-shirt. A Mighty Morphin Power Rangers T-shirt, size medium.”

“I don’t think so,” he said.

I leaned sideways and looked up at him. “Excuse me. I beg to differ. You wiped your nose on mine. You got boy cooties—and worse—all over it.”

He stopped walking. “First of all,” he said, holding up one gloved finger, “my mother washed that T-shirt. It was fine. Second of all, I was making social commentary when I wiped my nose on your shirt.”

“Social commentary?” I said, struggling not to laugh.

Nick pulled himself up to his full six-foot-plus height. “Yes. Social commentary. Maybe you don’t remember, but you tried to say that those Mighty Morph-whatever Power People could take on the Justice League. Wiping my nose on that shirt was my way of showing my disdain for your opinion.”

“Mighty Morphin Power Rangers,” I said, putting the emphasis on the last word. “Not Power People. And for your information, the Rangers could have wiped the floor with the Justice League.”

Nick gave a snort of laughter. “Not likely.”

“I have one word for you,” I said. “Megazord.” Then I pressed my free arm diagonally across my chest.

“What? Are you about to swear some kind of oath? The code of terrible teenybopper kids’ shows?”

“The Mighty Morphin Power Rangers is classic TV,” I said. I tapped my jacket with one finger. “I have a T-shirt on under this, and I’m protecting it from you.”

Nick started to laugh, and he pulled me back against his side. “I missed this, you know,” he said as we started walking again.

“Being reminded about your dubious taste in superheroes?” I teased.

He scrunched up his nose at me. “No. I mean being with someone who knows me so well. It’s nice.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

He reached over and gave my hand a squeeze.

“And, yes, Jess and I are planning on Thursday-night jam. You want us to save you a seat?”

“Please,” he said. “I’m not on call.”

I bumped him with my shoulder. “Are you bringing your guitar?”

“Are you?” he countered.

“Point taken,” I said.

“We should get together and play sometime,” Nick said. “My mother thinks you spend too much time working.”

I laughed. “She says the same thing about you.”

“That’s because she wants grandchildren.” He steered me around a slippery patch on the sidewalk.

“She told you that?” I asked.

“Not directly. She just points out every baby she sees when we’re out anywhere.”

I bumped his hip with mine. “Oh, you poor thing,” I said with mock concern.

“I’m not going to get any sympathy from you, am I?” he said.

I shook my head. “Nope. I work with your mother and Rose, and Liz is in the store all the time. They’re always trying to stage-manage my life.” I smiled up at him. “Suck it up, big guy.”

He laughed and pulled his hat down over his forehead a bit more with his free hand. “So what’s new with you?”

“Not much,” I said. “The store’s been a little quiet, but we’re getting more traffic on the website.”

“Do I dare ask what’s happening with Charlotte’s Angels?” he said. “If I ask Mom, she changes the subject.”

After they’d “solved” Arthur Fenety’s murder last spring, Rose, Liz and Charlotte had decided to open their own detective agency, Charlotte’s Angels, Discreet Investigations, the Angels for short. They’d set up their office in the sunporch at the store. Winter had moved them inside to the far end of the back room.

“They haven’t had any big cases,” I said. “I think they found someone’s missing teeth.”

Nick sighed. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I wish I were,” I said.

We turned a corner. “I thought they’d give up this whole private detective business.”

I shook my head. “Liz, Rose and your mother. You really thought they’d just ‘give up’? Did you grow up somewhere else?”

He made a face. “I know. Wishful thinking on my part. Tell me how the work is going in the old garage. When I talked to Liam, he said he got you some shelving for storage.” Nick and my brother were good friends.

“He did,” I said. “Four big wall units. They’re in great shape and the price was terrific. All I need now is for him or Dad to come for the weekend and help me get them up. It’s more than Mac and I can do alone.”

“Let me know if I can help,” he said.

“I will. Maybe I can lure him to town with the chance of hanging out doing gross boy stuff with you.”

Nick nodded. “Now that I think about it, it’s been way too long since Liam and I have spent the evening down at Sam’s. I’m a pretty good wingman, if I say so myself.” He raised an eyebrow and gave me a sly smile when he said “wingman.”

“I don’t want to talk about Liam’s love life,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to think about it. As Avery would say: Ewww!”

We walked in comfortable silence for a moment.

“Did you miss it when you were gone?” I asked. “North Harbor. Everyone.”

“You know, at the time, I would have said I didn’t.” He looked down at me. His mouth moved as though he were trying out the feel of what he wanted to say before he said it. “Now I realize I did,” he said. “More than I knew.”

We talked about the changes in North Harbor in the years we’d both been away, and suddenly I realized we were in front of my house.

I let go of Nick’s arm. “Thank you for the walk home.” I yawned, tried to stifle it and failed. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s not the company. It’s just been a long day.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome. And thank you for your company.” He looked up for a moment at the blue-black night sky shot with stars. “It’s good to be home,” he said when his eyes finally met mine again.

We looked at each other, the moment stretching out between us. Then Nick cleared his throat and glanced over at the house. I’d left the outside light on. “You’d better get in. It’s cold out here.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead, just below my hat.

I headed for the steps, fighting the urge to touch the spot with my fingers. I turned at the door and raised one hand in good night. Nick did the same and then turned and headed down the sidewalk.

I gave in and put my fingers to my forehead. Was it just my imagination that I seemed to still be able to feel the warmth of his lips?

* * *

Avery was waiting by the side door of Liz’s house in the morning, standing under the outside light, huddled into her giant parka and big polar fleece mittens, hugging a square tin covered with pink peonies to her chest.

“It’s so freakin’ cold,” she said as she climbed into the passenger side of the SUV. “Can I have hot chocolate? Please, please, please?”

“Yes,” I said. “If Lily doesn’t have any made, we’ll stop somewhere and get you some. How did the cake turn out?”

She threw back her hood and smiled. “So excellent.” She set the rectangular tin on the seat between us. “This is for coffee-break time this morning,” she said. “There’s enough for everybody.”

I smiled at her. “Thank you, Avery. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” she said, fastening her seat belt. “Rose gave me that look. You know the one I mean, where she wants you to do something nice, but she doesn’t say it because she wants you to do it without being told.”

I did.

Avery flipped through the radio stations as we drove down to the bakery. I parked directly in front of the shop and we got out. I peered through the front window, but there was no sign of Lily at the counter getting ready for her day.

“That’s odd,” I said.

Avery shrugged. “Maybe she forgot we were coming.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, although that wasn’t like Lily at all. Then again, neither was last night’s outburst.

Avery tried the door. “Hey, Sarah, this is open,” she said.

That was wrong as well. I felt a prickle of apprehension. “Go wait in the car,” I said, stepping past her.

She gave me her “stupid adult” look. “Uh, not likely,” she said, following me inside.

I called out Lily’s name a couple of times, but there was no answer.

“Maybe she’s in the kitchen and has her iPod on or something,” Avery offered.

It was possible, although I’d never seen Lily with an iPod.

I pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. The lights were on, but there was no sign of Lily anywhere. And there were no loaves of bread cooling on racks. No cinnamon rolls waiting to go in the oven. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Then I saw the door down to the basement was open.

I turned to look at Avery. “Just stay right here,” I said. “Without giving me a hard time for once. Please.” Something in my voice or my face must have told her not to argue this time.

I walked over to the open basement door, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. Lily was at the bottom of the basement stairs. There was blood on two of the steps. I didn’t go down to check on her. I could tell from the angle of her neck that she was dead.