He sighed again, trying to ignore the way Jess’s silken nightgown hanging on the door made his groin tighten. He hadn’t really wanted a shower anyway.
He could hear the sound of running water from the kitchen. After a moment, he walked back down the hall again.
Jess stood at the sink, stacking a few plates in a dishpan. Lars grabbed a dishtowel off the refrigerator door handle.
“I thought Cal got your dishwasher loaded before he left.”
“He did. These are just a few leftovers. It’s easier to wash them in the sink.”
Lars took a dish out of her hand, propping it in the drainer on the counter. “Sorry about the way they all descended on you like that. I didn’t ask them to.”
Jess shrugged. “It’s okay. I appreciate their concern. It’s been a while since I’ve been around a big family.”
“You don’t have any relatives?” Lars shook the few remaining drops off a coffee cup and propped it at the side.
“My dad died a few years ago. My mom died when I was little. I’ve got an uncle someplace, but I haven’t kept in touch with him. That’s one of the reasons Lydia could isolate me—no family to step in.”
“Of course, it also made it harder for her to trace you.”
“Right. So there are compensations.” Jess’s voice was dry. She put a couple of glasses into the dishpan.
Lars picked up a plate from the drainer and began drying. “Well, there are lots of Toleffsons around. More than enough, some people in town would tell you.”
“How did you all end up here?”
“Cal came down here first, then Pete and I came down for his wedding, and both of us decided to move down too. After my marriage broke up, that is.” One of the more interesting features of Cal’s wedding extravaganza. Like her morals, Sherice’s timing left something to be desired.
Jess propped the last few dishes in the drainer, watching him dry. “What about Erik?”
“Erik? I guess I forgot about him.” He frequently did. Maybe deliberately. “Erik moved down here about the same time I did.”
“Is there…” Jess rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. “Do you guys have some problem with Erik? I mean, you don’t seem as close to him as you do to each other.”
Lars set the glass down carefully in the cupboard, then reached for a plate. “Erik’s three years older than Pete, which means he’s four years older than me and six years older than Cal. He didn’t much like the competition.”
“Competition?”
Right
. She didn’t have any brothers and sisters. “He was sort of the big brother from hell for most of the time we were growing up. He did everything he could to make our lives miserable, even though our parents did their best to keep him off us. Once we grew up enough to defend ourselves, he lost interest. But around then he started hanging out with the limited number of juvenile delinquents in Lander, Iowa, which meant he caused our folks a whole new set of problems.”
He glanced down at the plate in his hands—he’d been drying it for at least five minutes. He set it on the shelf next to the glass. “Anyway, he didn’t have a particularly happy childhood, and he tried to make sure we didn’t either.”
“But you get along now?”
Lars stared down at the dishtowel in his hands.
Did they?
He hadn’t really stopped to think about it lately. “Yeah. I guess we do. He’s pulled himself together, stopped drinking, got a degree in criminal justice and become a cop. Sometimes it’s still hard to believe, but it’s true.”
“He seems…” Jess picked up a sponge, running it around the sink for a moment. “It’s like he’s trying to stay out of your way. Helping, but…not in your face.”
Lars nodded. “That’s a fair assessment. We’ve still got a lot of landmines to deal with.”
“I can understand that, but I appreciate the help he’s given me anyway.”
Jess took the dishtowel from his hands, her fingers brushing against his palm as she did. Lars wondered if she felt the warmth the same way he did, like a small electric shock traveling up his fingers.
All right, enough already.
He turned and walked toward the living room after Jess. Maybe she’d go to bed. Maybe he would. The worst thing would be for the two of them to sit together.
Jess sat on the couch, and he found himself flopping down beside her. Apparently, he couldn’t even trust his own knees anymore.
“So tell me about your husband,” he suggested a little desperately. A twenty-minute monologue on connubial bliss ought to cool down his libido.
“Barry? What do you want to know?”
“What was he like?”
Jess shrugged. “A nice guy. He was several years older than me. I guess he’d wasted a lot of time fighting his mother until he decided to just walk out on her. Once he dried out, I think he started believing in himself for the first time. He was the bravest man I’d ever met.”
“Bravest?” Lars wasn’t exactly sure what her definition of
brave
was. Barry Moreland sure didn’t meet his.
“Bravest. Absolutely. He faced the worst in himself, and he was still able to keep going. He learned how to live with all that darkness inside. That takes guts.”
Lars took a breath, willing himself not to see any parallels with Erik. “But he didn’t fight back when his family jerked him around.”
Jess shook her head. “There was no point in that. He wouldn’t have won. And he didn’t want their money anyway. But I think he stayed in Belle View just to show them he could keep going no matter what they thought of him. That took guts too.”
“And you loved him for his bravery?”
“Among other things.” Jess’s brows drew together in a slight frown. “He was a kind man. And he was good to me. And I admired him.”
That might be connubial bliss, but what she was describing didn’t strike Lars as much of a love affair. “That’s…good.”
Jess narrowed her eyes at him. “I wasn’t looking for a big-time romance. That burns out too fast. What we had was better. He made me feel safe, and he understood me. I respected him.”
Terrific. She’d married Mr. Rogers. But who was he to judge? He’d married Cruela DeVil. He raised his gaze to hers again.
She had amazing eyes. They tilted up slightly at the ends, almost cat-like. And they were the color of moss agates, a deep, dark green. A man could get lost in those eyes. A man could drown there.
A man had better get his ass to the bedroom before he did something surpassingly stupid.
Lars cleared his throat. “Well, I guess I’ll get to bed. You should too.”
Jess blinked at him, and he felt like groaning. Why did every word sound like it had some hidden meaning?
“I mean…” he started, and stopped abruptly. Jess was maybe two feet away from him. Close enough that he could feel the warmth from her skin. If either of them moved just a couple of inches forward…
It took every ounce of will power he had to stand. “Good night, then,” he murmured.
“Good night.” Jess’s lips moved in a tiny smile. “I’ll lock up.”
“
I’ll
lock up,” Lars said flatly. “You go ahead.”
Jess gave him one more puzzled look, blinking those gorgeous eyes, then pushed herself up from the couch and headed down the hall.
Lars didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or moan in frustration.
Chapter Fourteen
Lars didn’t get much sleep that night, but it had nothing to do with any outside threats. Around two, he finally willed himself into something close to unconsciousness, only to be awakened at six by Jack’s morning trills.
He stumbled to the kitchen and took the cup of coffee Jess offered, then headed for his SUV. At least he could shower at home. And by then a cold shower sounded like a very good idea.
Fifteen minutes after he walked in his own front door, Janie arrived with Daisy. Her backpack was sitting in the middle of the living room floor, along with her Little Mermaid suitcase, her library, a large part of her wardrobe, and almost every toy she owned.
“I got my pajamas,” she explained. “And my blanket. And my bed. Only not my bed. The madras.”
Lars turned to Janie. “Madras?”
“Air mattress. It’s a double. I thought you could put it on the floor in Jack’s room.”
“Right.” Lars wished he was more awake. He was sure there was something wrong with this plan.
“Daisy’s really looking forward to being with Jack.” Janie surveyed the pile of possessions in the middle of the floor a little doubtfully. “She wants to show him her toys.”
“Right.” Lars yawned. “Okay, let me get a little more caffeine in my system and then I’ll take her out to the B and B.”
At Jess’s cabin, Daisy ran through the door before Lars had even climbed the steps.
Jess stood in the doorway, shaking her head. “She’s excited.”
“Sort of like saying Hurricane Ike was a rainstorm.” Lars sighed. “Janie sent an air bed.”
Daisy danced around Jack’s high chair. “Jack! Jack! I’m gonna sleep in your room. We’re gonna have dinner. I brought my Wild Things.” She reached out to touch his hand.
Jack grasped her fingers, giggling and swaying back and forth in his chair.
Jess shook her head. “Why do I have the feeling neither of them will be interested in a nap today? We’ll get everything set up and you can inflate the air bed when you come back tonight.”
“Right. Shall I bring dinner?”
“Don’t bother. We’ve got all the leftovers from last night.”
Jack was making impatient noises. Either he really wanted out of his high chair or he really needed a new diaper. Lars sighed again. “Okay, time for the day to officially start.”
He managed to get some work done at the office during the morning by ignoring everything else that might distract him. At eleven, Mrs. Suarez buzzed the office line.
“Yes?” Lars kept his eyes on the spreadsheet he was currently trying to massage.
“There’s some woman on the line named Sherice. She said you’d take her call or else.” Mrs. Suarez’s voice gave a clear indication of what she thought of that
or else.
Lars pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d really hoped for a low-key day. “It’s okay, Mrs. Suarez. I’ll speak to her.”
“You’re finally there,” Sherice’s flat voice drawled when he punched in the outside line. “Don’t you keep normal office hours?”
His already long day suddenly looked even longer. “What do you want, Sherice?”
“To make sure my daughter is all right. To make sure she doesn’t get hurt when somebody takes a shot at your girlfriend.”
Lars felt a churning in his stomach that had nothing to do with the amount of coffee he’d already consumed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“About what’s going on with that so-called babysitter you’ve got taking care of Daisy. As if you don’t know what I’m talking about. Jesus, Lars, do you think I’m stupid?”
At one point, Lars had thought exactly that. Since then, he’d decided that Sherice wasn’t exactly stupid. Vicious, unprincipled, greedy and totally self-absorbed—she was all of those things. But she wasn’t stupid.
“What do you think has happened, Sherice?” he asked, keeping his tone as neutral as he could. He’d really prefer not getting into a shouting match while Mrs. Suarez was right next door.
“Your girlfriend’s house was broken into. Twice. Maybe somebody was after her drug stash or something. I want Daisy out of there.”
Lars gritted his teeth to keep from rising to the bait. “You don’t get to set my childcare options, Sherice. You gave up custody. Besides, the burglaries occurred at night. Daisy was nowhere near the house.”
Even as he said it, Lars felt his shoulders tense. Daisy was nowhere near the house before this, but she’d be living there for the next few days. So would he. And apparently Sherice had some kind of pipeline into Konigsburg.
“I’m concerned about my daughter’s safety,” Sherice purred. “Suppose I took this into court? Suppose I told a judge I was afraid you were putting my little girl in danger? Don’t you think he’d be impressed?”
A male judge would probably be impressed as hell by Sherice’s cleavage. On the other hand, she’d never been particularly good at pretending concern over Daisy. “Is that what you plan to do? Go back to court? I’ll let my lawyer know.”
“It doesn’t need to go that far. I’ve told you. We can discuss this.”
“You want more money.” Lars rubbed his eyes. He should have seen this coming.
“I want what’s coming to me,” Sherice snapped. “You didn’t sell the house in Des Moines for what it was worth. You owe me at least fifteen thousand more. And that’s without interest.”
“Interest? What are you charging me, Sherice? Prime rate?”
There was a pause on the other end. “Smart. You were always so smart, weren’t you, Lars?” Sherice’s voice crackled with fury. It was the same voice she’d used in the endless sessions with the lawyers before the divorce was final.
It had taken him a while to understand how much she hated him. He still didn’t understand why.
“I don’t have fifteen thousand dollars to give you, Sherice. You got a major payout when the divorce was final. Beyond that, you’re on your own.”
“Not if I go to court. Not if I get custody. Then you’d be paying me child support, wouldn’t you, Lars? You’d be supporting me until Daisy’s eighteenth birthday. And I’d make sure you’d support me in style.”
“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’, Sherice. You’re a long way from a sure thing.”
“You think so?” Sherice’s voice rose dangerously. “Try me. Get ready to spend the next six months in court.”
Lars held the receiver away from his ear to get some distance from her suddenly shrill tone, then tried again. “Think about this, Sherice. Just think about it. You don’t want Daisy. She’d get in your way. Is it worth making both of you miserable just to screw me over?”
“Yes,” she snarled. “Yes. I don’t care. You’ll pay me one way or the other, you bastard.”
Lars managed to keep his voice soft, the same technique he used when Daisy had a tantrum. Keep your voice down and sometimes she’d lower hers. “Why? What am I going to pay for, Sherice? What did Daisy or I ever do to you?”
“What did you do? What did you do? You…gave up! You could have made a million, ten million, but you just gave up.” She sounded like she was panting now. Maintaining that kind of fury must be exhausting as hell. “You could have been a top executive. Everybody said so. You could have owned your own firm.
We could have been rich, goddamn you!
”
“I guess I could have been.” Lars rubbed his eyes again. He remembered those years all too well. And what he mainly remembered was coming home from work so exhausted he’d just wanted to play with Daisy and then go to bed. But Sherice would have something planned. Sherice always had something planned. “Being rich is a full-time job, Sherice. I didn’t have the stomach for it. I’m not getting rich down here, and I doubt I ever will.”
“I don’t care! I don’t care about what you want. I want what’s coming to me. You get it for me, or I’ll make you sorry.” Sherice suddenly sounded a lot like Daisy in her more annoying moments. Lars wondered if she’d try holding her breath next.
“So you think fifteen thousand is what you’ve got coming?” It wasn’t really a question. Of course, she did.
“You sold the house for less than you said you would. You owe me.” At least her voice had dropped into close-to-normal range again.
“Look, we made a small profit on the sale, more than most people are making these days. The house had been on the market for months. Chances of getting much more for it were slim. Your lawyer accepted the deal.”
“Maybe he did. I didn’t.”
Lars took a deep breath. “Here’s how it is, Sherice. I don’t have fifteen thousand to give you. On the other hand, I’m willing to set up a trust for Daisy into which I’ll deposit fifteen thousand over a period you and I will agree to, say three to five years, which I may be able to manage. I think a judge will okay something like that.”
Lars could hear her breathing—it sounded ragged, as if she’d developed asthma. When she began speaking again, the words hissed in his ear. “You think you’re smart, don’t you? You think that idea will get you out of this? Think again, Lars. It’s my fifteen thousand.
Mine!
You can’t steal my fifteen thousand and give it to a three-year-old.”
“She’s still two. Her birthday’s not for another two months.” He said it without thinking. If he’d thought about it, he would have known better.
“I don’t give a flying fuck how old she is,” Sherice shrieked again. “That little bitch isn’t getting any of my money.”
For a moment, Lars seemed to see the world through a haze of red. The breath in his lungs felt like hot steel. If he’d had anything in his hands besides the phone, he would have thrown it at the wall. “That’s it. This is over. Go fuck yourself, Sherice.”
“Like you couldn’t?” Sherice screamed, but he was already slamming down the receiver.
He sat staring at the phone, trying to make himself breathe normally. She was out of his life. No judge in his right mind would let someone like that have custody of a child, particularly after she’d already signed it away.
He closed his eyes, resisting the urge to rest his forehead on the desk. No judge in his right mind…but with his luck, Sherice might stumble over a lunatic judge with a boob fetish somewhere in the state of Iowa.
At noon, Lars headed for the Coffee Corral. Normally, he brought his lunch from home, but today he hadn’t had time to make anything. He wondered if he’d be able to make his lunches at Jess’s house or if he’d be on permanent kid duty.
No. The kids had to go to bed eventually. Then he and Jess could…he wasn’t sure what they could do. After last night, he didn’t trust himself to find out.
Most of the people at the Corral were local since the place wasn’t on Main. The Corral was a haven for the people who actually lived in Konigsburg year round. The food might not be sensational, but not having to listen to conversations about adorable lawn ornaments more than made up for it.
Al Brosius, the owner and chief cook, nodded at Lars. “The usual?”
The usual was a burger and fries. Lars thought about the last time he’d stepped on a scale. Besides he was trying to get away from the usual. He shook his head. “Tuna sandwich, Al. Erik been in yet?”
Al nodded toward the line of booths along the wall, jotting down the order on his green pad. Lars could see Erik’s Stetson hanging from the hook at the end of one booth. He took his glass of iced tea and headed toward that side of the room.
Erik glanced up as he arrived.
“Can I join you?”
Erik nodded, sliding his feet back to let Lars in the booth. He seemed to take up one entire side without even trying. The Big Brother from Hell. Only he didn’t look too hellish anymore.
“So what did you all decide last night? Anything I should know about?”
“I figured part of the problem was that Jess was alone out at the B and B, so Daisy and I are going to be staying there too.” Lars kept his gaze on the table as he said it. He’d just as soon not have to deal with more raised eyebrows for the moment.
Erik shrugged. “Having some extra people around can’t hurt.”
Al’s wife, Carol, appeared at their table with a sandwich basket. “I thought it was Cal over here. He’s the only one of you Toleffsons who doesn’t eat Al’s burgers.”
Lars felt like sighing. Couldn’t he ever vary his routine without getting comments? “I love Al’s burgers. I just felt like a tuna sandwich.”
“Try the grilled Swiss next time. We also do a nice chicken salad. Good to see another Toleffson believing that life extends beyond red meat.” Carol turned back toward the counter.
Lars picked up his sandwich. “Pete said Haggedorn’s gone.”
“Looks like it. Kid at the desk said he checked out late one afternoon before I came by.”
“At least I know him by sight. He won’t be able to sneak up on us this time.” Lars took a bite of tuna. Not bad. Not a sublime experience like Allie’s stuff, but not bad at all. “I’ve got another problem, but I don’t know if you can help.”
Erik raised his eyebrows, which Lars took as permission to go ahead.
“I had a call from Sherice this morning.”
Erik’s expression went blank. He’d been around during Sherice’s last, most spectacular crash and burn, when she’d almost derailed Cal and Docia’s wedding. “Must have been fun.”
“Not especially. The thing is, she knew about the break-ins at Jess’s place. She tried to use them to put pressure on me over Daisy. For money, that is.”
“Interesting.”
Lars gritted his teeth. Erik always seemed to find things interesting. He, on the other hand, found this particular case annoying and vaguely threatening. “So anyway, she’s got some kind of information source here in town. Can you think of anyone it might be?”
Erik shrugged. “Probably somebody associated with the city cops. So far as I know, the burglaries haven’t shown up in any of the papers. Police reports would be the most likely source.”
“Some cop is sending information to my ex-wife? Any idea who?”
“Probably not directly to her.” Erik took another bite of his burger. “Probably to somebody who works for her—like her lawyer.”
“Is that even legal?” Lars tried to keep his voice from rising.
“Technically, yeah. The police reports are public records. As long as the cops don’t pass along confidential information, they’d be inside the law.”
Lars crumbled a potato chip between his fingers. “Please tell me there’s a
but
in here somewhere.”