1105 Yakima Street (16 page)

“Then you should go,” Rachel said.

Bruce reached for her. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I’m sorry, too.”

And she was, far more than she dared admit.

S
hortly after nine on Thursday morning Miranda Sullivan was getting into her car to run errands when her cell phone chirped. Digging in her purse, she retrieved it, all the while wondering who’d be calling this early. Caller ID identified Will Jefferson. He’d given her the day off and she planned on putting it to good use.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” he asked.

“On my way to the grocery store. I’m picking up treats for the goblins who’ll be coming by tonight.”

“Oh, right, it’s Halloween. Aren’t you doing this a little last-minute?”

“Maybe, but if I buy candy too early I tend to eat it myself.”

“No willpower?”

Miranda frowned and refused to take the bait. He knew exactly which buttons to push with her. “Is there a reason you called?” she asked.

“Actually, speaking of last-minute, I was hoping you’d be able to work this afternoon.”

“I thought you said you didn’t need me.”

“I didn’t then, but I do now. My sister wants me to come with her to check something out… .”

“What?” She’d counted on a free afternoon and wasn’t giving it up without a good reason.

“Okay, if you must know…” He sighed. “Olivia and I have appointments at a couple of assisted-living complexes in the area.”

Miranda did sympathize but she had her own appointment at Get Nailed. “I have plans this afternoon,” she said.

“Oh.” He sounded somewhat morose. “So you can’t come in for a few hours? Well, I could close the gallery, I suppose. It probably wouldn’t hurt for one afternoon. Only I hate the idea of doing that… .”

“Oh, all right,” Miranda said, capitulating far too easily. She could phone the salon and reschedule for later in the week.

“That’s great.” He leaped at her offer without any hesitation. “Can you be here around two?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Miranda. I really appreciate it.”

“Bye.” She called the salon to cancel her appointment, then shut her cell and put it back inside her oversize purse. So much for shopping, hair and fun. She quickly revised her plans.

First things first. She ran errands, going to Safeway for the candy she needed. In addition, she bought an extra bag of miniature chocolate bars and a plastic pumpkin for the gallery. Then she picked up her dry cleaning. Shirley met her for an early lunch, and when they’d finished, she dropped off some books at the library. From there Miranda got to the art gallery with fifteen minutes to spare.

Will was with a customer when she arrived. He raised his hand briefly but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her. Miranda hung her coat in the back room and stashed her purse in a safe place. Then she opened the candy, dumped the small chocolate bars in the pumpkin and set it on the counter near the cash register for customers to help themselves.

Will was at the door saying goodbye to his customer when she returned.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the plastic pumpkin.

“What does it look like?”

“You brought candy in here?”

“Yes.” The answer should be obvious.

“You don’t need it and neither do I. Whenever possible I avoid sweets.”

“Then don’t indulge. I thought you were the one with
willpower,
” she said sarcastically. When he started to respond, she said, “It isn’t for you, anyway.” Was he so self-absorbed that he assumed she’d purchased the bag for him?

“Then who’s it for?”

“Customers,” she said irritably. “Is that a problem?” She’d done him a favor and Will acted as if she’d brought poison into his precious gallery.

“We don’t get that many children—”

“Isn’t it time you met your sister?” she asked, interrupting him.

Will gave her a startled look. “Right. I shouldn’t be longer than a couple of hours. Three at the most.”

“If you aren’t back by five, I’ll close for the night and head home.”

“I’ll be back by then.”

“So he says,” Miranda muttered under her breath. If Will heard her, he pretended he didn’t.

The rest of the afternoon was busy, much busier than she would’ve expected. She sold another Beverly Chandler painting, a sculpture and a quilt. Will should be pleased, but knowing him, he’d invent reasons to find fault. She just hoped he realized that if she hadn’t given up most of her afternoon, they wouldn’t have made three rather large sales. If he’d placed a closed sign on the door, he might never have known what he’d missed. After all, there was no guarantee those customers would’ve come back.

A little after five, as she was putting the cash from the till into the bank deposit bag, Will walked into the gallery, looking completely worn out.

“We had a great afternoon,” she said, eager to share her news.

He nodded absently. “Olivia and I are shocked. You wouldn’t believe the monthly fees these adult residences charge.”

“I sold the quilt,” Miranda bragged. It’d been in the gallery for three months and she’d almost lost hope that it would sell.

Will still wasn’t listening. “Of course, when you take into account that the fees include meals and utilities, I don’t suppose it’s
so
bad.”

“Another Beverly Chandler painting, too.” If nothing else, this should get his attention.

“They have a lot of programs for the elderly,” he continued. “They do everything they can to keep the residents physically fit. The social activities sound great. Both Olivia and I think this mental stimulation is exactly what Mom needs. Ben, too.” He shook his head.
“Still, we’ll have to talk to Ben’s son—and I don’t mean David—”

“Have you heard a single word I said?” Miranda asked.

Will glanced up. “What?”

“Never mind.” She tossed the deposit bag on the counter and went into the back room for her coat and purse.

He followed her. “Why are you in such a state?”

“Because of you.”

“That figures. Apparently everything I do annoys you.”

“You have no idea how true that is. And you seem to be just as annoyed by me. I’m not even sure why you keep me on.”

“I’m wondering that myself,” he murmured. “Furthermore I doubt
you
heard a single word
I
said.”

“Yes, of course I did.” She marched into the outer room and grabbed the plastic pumpkin.

“Where are you going with that?”

“Home. You don’t appreciate it, so I’m taking it with me.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t appreciate it. Anyway, I didn’t have a chance to pick up any treats, so I was going to use it tonight in case any of the neighborhood kids stop by.”

“That’s unlikely.”

“Okay, fine. Whatever.” He glared at her.

Miranda glared back.

“Why are you like this?” he demanded.

“Like what?”

“So…so moody. You jump all over me every chance you get. I don’t understand what your problem is.”

Miranda took offense at that. “I am the most even-tempered woman you’re likely to meet. Ask anyone.”

“You fly off the handle over nothing.”

“That is not true.”

He gestured toward her. “Just listen to how defensive you are. Can’t we have a civil conversation without you making all kinds of false assumptions?”

“I…I—” Perhaps she
was
being defensive. Okay, true, she was, but she had no choice. It was either that or own up to how attractive she found him… .

“What are you thinking?” he asked, frowning slightly. He didn’t seem to know how he should react when she didn’t have an immediate comeback.

“I…I—” she started again, and then, without considering her actions, she stepped forward and kissed him.

For an instant they were both too shocked to do anything but stare at each other. Then Will reached out and caught her by the shoulders as if to shove her away. Instead, he brought her close, kissing her deeply, passionately.

They both seemed to realize what was happening at the same time. Breaking apart, they retreated, gazing at each other in shock.

Miranda could feel her face heating up with acute embarrassment. In all her life, she’d never been the one to take the initiative and kiss a man. Well, not the first time they kissed, at any rate. This was completely out of character.

“What was that about?” Will asked, frowning.

Miranda could play this one of two ways, she decided. She could be nonchalant about the whole thing and dismiss it as unimportant. Irrelevant. Or she could simply say he’d made her so angry that it was either kiss him or slap him across the face. And that being the case, she’d opted for the lesser of two evils.

Before she could choose which approach to take, Will
raised one hand to his face and narrowed his eyes. “You just kissed me.”

“No one’s ever kissed you before?” she asked flippantly.

“Not like that.”

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

Not answering, he turned away and then abruptly turned back. “Do you do that often?”

“Do what?” she said, playing stupid. Because that was how she felt. Stupid.

“Walk up to a man and kiss him,” he said. His voice seemed to echo around the gallery. Thankfully they were closed; otherwise, some unsuspecting customer might breeze in. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad because she’d be able to escape.

“No, I don’t usually go around kissing men,” she admitted. “It seems to me you enjoyed it, though.”

“I most certainly did not.”

“Oh, please!” She laughed outright.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. Come on, Will. I don’t understand why you’re so thrown by a little kiss.”

“Why’d you do it?”

There wasn’t going to be an easy way to extricate herself from this awkward situation. She could confess that she was strongly attracted to him. No, that would be totally the wrong move. It would give him the upper hand, always dangerous with a man like Will. Acting defensive and ill-tempered protected her, although she’d rather burn at the stake than admit it.

“Explain,” he insisted.

“Ah…” She’d really done it this time. “It was a mistake.”

“Yes, it
was
a mistake. A big one.”

“Whatever.”

“As your employer, I’m finding this all rather…amusing.”

“You
would
find it amusing.” Leave it to Will to use this to embarrass her even further—although a moment ago, his reaction had been quite different.

“I prefer to kiss rather than be kissed.”

“Oh, you have rules for such things,” she murmured, not pointing out that he’d done his share of the kissing. This entire conversation was ridiculous. She yanked her raincoat from its hook and thrust her arms into the sleeves.

“Everyone has rules about kissing,” he said.

“Like I told you, it was a mistake. An accident…”

“An accident,” he repeated. “You’re joking. That kiss was probably the most deliberate action you’ve taken since the moment I hired you.”

“I moved the first Chandler painting,” she was quick to remind him, “the one that sold a month ago.”

He ignored that. “When I kiss a woman, I prefer she not be a big-boned, opinionated windbag.”

So now he was going to insult her. Miranda didn’t need to hang around for that. Grabbing her purse, she stomped out of the gallery.

“Where are you going?” he asked, following her.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I’m just…curious.”

She was at the door, which stubbornly refused to open. She twisted the handle several times, but couldn’t budge it. So much for making a grand exit.

Will reached over and flipped the lock so that when she tried again she stumbled backward and almost fell into his arms. He clutched at her shoulders to steady her. It didn’t take much effort to shake herself free.

As soon as the door opened, she hurried around to the rear of the building where she’d parked. Again, Will followed her.

“What are you doing?” she asked sharply.

He didn’t answer, and it occurred to her that he was as bemused as she’d been. He didn’t know what he was doing or why. That was comforting—at least a little.

Before she could open the car door, Will planted his hand on the side window and turned, leaning against the vehicle so she couldn’t leave.

“What?” she said heatedly.

Then Will hauled her into his arms and kissed her full on the mouth. When he released her, she faltered for a second or two.

He looked as shocked as she’d felt when she’d kissed him.

“Where are you going?” he asked again, his voice faint.

“Home.” He wasn’t the only one with voice problems. Her own sounded as if a mouse had gotten control of her voice box; her words came out like a high-pitched squeak.

“Will you be back in the morning?” He seemed anxious, as though concerned that she might resign her position.

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I didn’t want a little thing like a kiss to stand between us,” he said with a frown.

“You kissed me.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And I kissed you…first. Okay, I’ll admit it.”

“Do you plan on doing it again?”

“Why are you asking?” After all, he was the one who
claimed she was a big-boned, opinionated windbag. “Do
you
want to kiss
me
again?”

His head shot up. “Let’s just call this whole episode a slip in judgment.”

“On both our parts,” she added.

He offered her a tentative smile. “On both our parts,” he agreed.

T
he puppy’s soft mewling cry woke Grace from a sound sleep. Cliff had been feeding Beau in the middle of the night, and usually seemed to hear the puppy before Grace did. Often she got up, too, but there really wasn’t much she could do. So, after a few minutes she simply returned to bed.

“Okay, okay, I hear you,” she muttered as she threw aside the covers. Cliff continued to sleep peacefully, which told her he was especially tired. It was her turn to get up with the puppy.

Beau slept in a cardboard box in the corner of their bedroom. She didn’t like it, but there wasn’t anyplace else they could keep him where he could be heard at night. Unfortunately, he still needed to be fed every few hours.

Reaching for her fleece housecoat at the end of the bed, Grace slipped it on and tucked her feet into the warm, fuzzy pink slippers that had been a gift from her daughter Maryellen last Christmas.

Cliff had the puppy formula ready, so she got it out of the kitchen and carried Beau into the living room. As she set him in her lap, he latched on to the small rubber nipple and sucked greedily.

“You’re not as cute as you think you are,” she felt obliged to inform the puppy. “Buttercup was a great-looking dog,” she said aloud. Sighing, she realized she actually wanted this small, runt-of-the-litter dog to feel jealous. Beau wouldn’t grow up to be half the dog Buttercup was. Nope. Not in a million years.

“I hope you’re happy,” she said. Beau might think he’d finally got her where he wanted her, but he was dead wrong. Grace had no intention of letting this puppy, or any other dog, capture her affections. The
only
reason she’d agreed to take him was as a favor to Beth. Even now she was sorry she’d allowed herself to be talked into this.

Grace had managed to steel herself against the puppy—so far. In fact, she went out of her way not to pay attention to Beau. During the day Cliff looked after him, which helped. Unfortunately, he had a meeting with fellow horse-breeders the next day and wouldn’t be able to bring Beau with him. That meant she’d have to take the puppy to work for the first time—something she’d rather not do.

Holding the baby bottle, she focused her gaze on the opposite wall. “Buttercup would’ve looked after you,” she said. It was still difficult not to tear up when she thought of her beloved golden retriever. Not a day passed that she didn’t think of Buttercup. Her dog had always greeted her when she returned from work, and in the evenings Buttercup would lie at Grace’s feet while she read or watched television.

“You could pet him, you know.” Cliff’s voice startled her. Grace looked up to see her husband leaning against the archway that led into the living room.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“I didn’t see. Early. Too early for either of us to be up. This dog isn’t worth losing sleep over,” she grumbled.

“Sure he is,” Cliff said, crossing his arms. “Just look at him, cuddled up on your lap. Pet him, Grace. He needs affection.”

“He’s not getting it from me.”

Cliff shook his head. “You’re a hard woman.”

She ignored that. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“Which is what?”

“You’re trying to coax me to be friends with Beau. Well, it isn’t going to happen.”

“You bought him the chew toy.”

She had, but that was for self-preservation. “I didn’t want him cutting his teeth on my shoes.” Because she was often on her feet for long periods of time, Grace purchased high-end pumps that were both attractive and designed for comfort. The last thing she wanted was for Beau to make a meal out of one of those.

“I have that meeting at ten,” Cliff reminded her.

“I know.” She wasn’t happy about it, but she had little cause for complaint, since Cliff had been so accommodating toward the puppy.

“He’ll sleep all morning.”

“We can only hope.” She worried about what would happen if the puppy got away from her at the library. If he got lost…

“He’s a good-natured little guy.”

“Maybe someone will steal him,” she joked. Well…sort of joked.

“Grace!”

His disapproval annoyed her. “If you’re up, you might as well feed him.”

“I’d rather watch you.”

Grace frowned. “You don’t seriously want this dog, do you?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Puppies are a nuisance.” The fact that Cliff had disregarded her wishes concerning this dog didn’t sit well with her. It hadn’t taken him more than a day to fall under Beau’s spell.

“If anyone had asked me,” Cliff said, “I would’ve agreed with you. We don’t need a puppy.”

“Thank goodness,” she murmured.

“Then Beau arrived on our doorstep…”

“He was foisted on me by a woman with a conniving mind,” Grace said irritably.

“He’s a good puppy.”

“He’s a nuisance.”

“To you, maybe, but he’s grown on me.”

“Cliff,” she wailed. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. Do you think it was any accident that Beth placed this puppy with us? You’re falling right in with her schemes.”

“Is that so bad? All Beth wants is a good home for these puppies.”

“But I don’t
want
a puppy,” Grace said, glaring across the room at her husband. “Or any other dog for that matter. Buttercup is gone, and that’s the end of any pets for us. Agreed?” she asked pointedly.

Maybe Cliff thought he could convince her to change her mind; in that case, she wanted it understood
right now
that wasn’t going to happen.

“Whatever you say, Grace. This is totally up to you.”

“Good, because my decision’s already made.” She heard a sucking noise and realized the bottle was empty. Gently she withdrew the nipple from Beau’s mouth.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to give him a bit of affection.”

Grace ran her index finger down the puppy’s back. He was so small and skinny she could feel the ridges of his
spine. Poor thing really was undernourished. To Cliff’s credit, Beau looked healthier than when he’d first arrived, but that wasn’t saying much.

Beau’s deep brown eyes seemed to plead with her. Well, if he was hoping to steal her heart, he could look elsewhere.

“Should I give him a second bottle?” she asked.

“No. It’s not good to feed him too much at once. Better to let him eat smaller meals but more often.”

That made sense.

“I don’t need to burp him, do I? Like a baby?”

“No. He’ll be asleep in a few minutes.”

Sure enough, Beau settled contentedly onto her lap and quickly went back to sleep. Grace wished it was as easy for her. When she returned Beau to his box and got into bed, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Cliff, on the other hand, obviously had no problem. Within minutes—no,
seconds,
she thought enviously—he was deep in dreamland.

Lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, Grace recalled the day Charlotte Rhodes had brought Buttercup to the house. Except that Charlotte had been Charlotte Jefferson then.

That was such a dark time in Grace’s life. Dan had gone missing and, to all appearances, seemed to have run off with another woman. She remembered the day someone had reported seeing him in town, driving a pickup truck. Later, her husband had been spotted just down the street from the library. Grace had run out, coatless, chasing after him in such a frantic hurry that she’d stumbled, fallen and skinned her knee.

It wasn’t Dan that day. It couldn’t have been. Almost a year passed before she learned that her husband wasn’t with another woman. He’d killed himself, unable to let
go of a crime he’d committed as a young man serving in Vietnam.

For years after the war he’d periodically sink into black moods, during which he’d lash out at those around him, at those who loved him. Any effort to question or comfort him was met with fierce, uncontrollable anger. After a while, Grace stopped trying. His mood would reverse itself after a few days or weeks and it would be as if nothing had happened. For their entire married life, she’d loved a man who had what was essentially a split personality.

Grace must have fallen asleep because the alarm startled her awake. Her eyes flew open and she sat up and switched it off. Cliff rolled over, pulling the blanket over his shoulder. Leaning down, she kissed his ear. “I’ll start the coffee,” she said.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

She climbed out of bed and grabbed her housecoat. Shrugging into it as she walked to the kitchen, Grace paused at the cardboard box to discover Beau tightly curled up in the receiving blanket Cliff had found for him. “I see the alarm didn’t bother
you
any,” she whispered.

She waited until there was enough coffee in the pot to fill two mugs, then carried them into the bedroom. Cliff was up and in the shower.

Drinking her coffee as she dressed, she slipped into a long-sleeved polo shirt and a jumper. She wore something similar most days; it was almost a uniform. Cliff took his coffee from the dresser as he strolled out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. The radio was reporting on weather and traffic in the Seattle area. Half listening, she plugged in her curling iron and applied moisturizer to her face.

When Grace had finished putting on makeup and fixing her hair, she saw that Cliff had removed Beau from his box. The puppy had made his way over to one of her fluffy slippers, snuggled inside and gone right back to sleep.

“You have to admit that’s cute,” Cliff said, coming to stand behind her.

“No, I do not. I don’t want that dog in my shoe.”

“Come on, Grace. Hallmark would print a card with a picture like that. Or…how about if I put him on YouTube? He’d be a star. Just look at him.”

“You can look all you want but I have to get to work.”

Cliff shook his head and bent to take Beau from her slipper.

Grace hated to be so coldhearted but she couldn’t lower her guard, not even a little. The instant she did, Beau would wriggle his way into her affections, which was exactly what Cliff and Beth hoped would happen. Grace was determined it wouldn’t.

Half an hour later, after a second cup of coffee and a toasted English muffin, Grace drove to the library with Beau in the box beside her. She had several small bottles of formula, which she’d have to feed him during the day.

Cliff said that if the meetings ended early, he’d come and pick up Beau, but he wasn’t making any promises. She figured she’d be stuck with the puppy all day.

Naturally Beau had everyone on the library staff wrapped around his tiny paw the moment she carried him into the building.

“Anyone want to feed him?” she asked. If she could arrange for someone else to do it, all the better.

Every single employee volunteered. She let them work out a schedule as she retreated to her office and assumed her tasks for the day. Writing the email newsletter that went
out to patrons every Monday morning was at the top of her list.

Beth phoned shortly after the library opened. “How’s it going?” she asked.

“It’s going. Cliff named him Beau.”

“I heard.”

So Beth had been in contact with Cliff. If Grace was a paranoid kind of person, she’d wonder if those two were teaming up against her. More than likely Beth had phoned the house and Cliff had answered, then simply forgotten to mention the call.

“Have you weighed Beau lately?”

“Not me. Cliff did, though.”

“Do you remember his weight?”

“Sorry, no.”

Beth asked a few additional questions, but Grace was no more helpful with those than she’d been with the first one. Cliff had taken on nearly all Beau-related duties and that was how Grace intended to keep it.

Once she was off the phone, she went to check with the children’s librarian regarding story hour that Friday afternoon. She needed the information for her newsletter.

As she walked toward the children’s section, she noticed several people smiling in her direction. She didn’t think anything of it until she looked back. Beau was trotting after her as if he were her shadow.

Grace stopped and so did Beau. He sat on his haunches and stared up at her, his tail wagging. Ignoring him, she moved forward purposely. Beau ran after her, his small legs hardly able to keep up.

Finally she couldn’t stand it a minute longer. Crouching down, she picked him up and cradled him in her arms. He licked her hand, then reached for her face.

She raised her chin out of his range. “I am not going
to love you, no matter what you do,” she insisted. “Don’t even try, okay?”

Beau whimpered as if to disagree.

“We’re going to find you a good home,” she said, stroking his soft fur. “A family with lots of children for you to play with. That’s what you need—a family with children. You don’t want to live with Cliff and me. We won’t feel like playing chase or throwing a Frisbee or doing any of the other things you’d love. It’s for your own good. Do you understand?”

Apparently Beau didn’t, because he licked her hand again.