From Scratch (10 page)

“Millie.” Jane laughed. “Bullying you is like the Canadian Mounties bullying the U. S. Army.”

“True. But still one would think there would be a little loyalty after two decades of friendship.” Millie slumped in her chair with a pout.

“And what was with you beating me up the moment I walked through the door?” Sean asked.

“That was just a little love hit. You know I love you.”

“Gee, thanks, Mill. Love you, too.” Sean turned toward the counter and met Maggie's stunned gaze. “Don't look so horrified. We've been going through this routine since I was ten years old and madly in love with Millie, following her around like a stray puppy.”

“Well, that is quite a picture.” Maggie chuckled. “A stray puppy? Really?”

“Really. Not very manly, I'm afraid.”

“But charming,” she said. “Now, what may I get for you?”

“Just a cup of coffee.”

She took a ceramic mug from the shelf, laid a dessert plate on the counter, and then lifted a single eyebrow.

“How can I resist?”

Her eyes twinkled before she plucked a single brownie from the display tray.

She handed the brownie and coffee cup to him, and their fingers lightly brushed against one another. A rocket went off in Sean's belly, warming him from deep within. He couldn't tear his gaze from her. His feet were rooted to the ground, the simple touch shaking him to his core. He was startled when Millie leaned on his shoulder. He hadn't even noticed she'd stood up.

“Taylor,” she whispered in his ear. “You might want to pick your tongue up off of the floor. You're kind of obvious.” She sauntered toward the racks of coffee carafes.

“What do you mean?” he whispered. He set his plate and coffee cup between them and reached for the skim milk, prepping his cup.

“You might want to wipe the drool off your lip, Champ.”

Instinctively, he swiped at his mouth with the back of his free hand.

Millie snorted and grabbed the milk from his hand. “You are such an idiot. There must have been something causing emotional and romantic stunted-ness out there in farm country for you and Jane to be such late bloomers.”

Leaning a hip against the counter, he crossed his arms, hoping the two inches of height he had on her might add a sense of intimidation. The more reasonable conclusion to her pontification would come when she ran out of ways to torture him.

“Are you just going to stand there?” She blew across the rim of her cup before taking a sip.

“I didn't hear a question in your diatribe on my pathetic single life.”

“Do you have a thing for Little Miss Baker-Girl?”

Sean stood a little straighter; his heart sped with the question. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Mmmhmm. Dude, you're like a billboard at the corner of Broad and High. Everyone in Columbus can read you.” She flipped her hair as she walked back to the table.

“I have no idea what you mean.” He mumbled under his breath as he filled his mug with snickerdoodle coffee. But he did. He'd never been able to hide his thoughts from Millie or Jane, but his manly sense of self-preservation and thin string of remaining pride refused to acknowledge it. For now. He grabbed his plate and followed Millie to the table.

Jane and Maggie were beaming with excitement.

“Oh, you should totally have life-size cutouts of the different police chiefs attending,” Maggie said.

Sean slid onto the seat between Jane and Millie, across from Maggie. “Why would you want to have pictures when we'll be there?”

Jane shook her head. “Not of you today, but you when you were in high school. You know the whole, ‘Fall Homecoming Dance' theme?”

“Ahh,” He lifted the brownie to his lips. He was probably better off keeping his mouth filled for the duration of the conversation.

The talk of centerpieces, bands, food, and attendees caused Sean to fall delightfully deeper into a sugar coma. Despite his innate boredom of the topic, the merry-go-round conversation allowed him the luxury of focusing his attention on an unaware Maggie.

As she spoke, her face was alight with joy over the variety of pastries and desserts she would prepare. She offered suggestions on savory items for Jane to pass along to the caterer.

Sean enjoyed watching her enthusiasm, a welcome conversion from the early hours of this morning. He lifted his coffee cup and drained the contents as his mind shifted to the One he could always rely on for direction.
God, do you think you could give a brother a hand? I don't need a big sign, just a little nudge to know I'm doing the right thing. We should just be friends, right?

The front door to the café opened.

Maggie's shoulders slumped as she pushed away from the table. “Duty calls.” She hurried behind the counter, drawing her latest customer, an older woman, into a simple conversation. Her ability to make every customer special awed him. He tore his gaze from Maggie and tuned in on the conversation at the table. But instead of talk of centerpieces and cake, he found two women staring at him with the intensity of his former Captain the day he found out Sean had a felon from the FBI's Most Wanted list in a holding cell. “What?”

“You like Maggie.” Jane smiled as she lowered her chin to rest in her hand.

“I don't know what you are talking about.” His cheeks burned. He could mask his emotions from major criminals but against these two he was hopeless. “She's my tenant. She doesn't even like me.”

“He tried that maneuver on me, too.” Millie snorted.

“Seanie, you are so obvious.”

“What is it with you two?” he mumbled.

“Sean,” Jane covered his hand with her own. “You are like my brother. I've known you my whole life. I have known the moment you started liking a girl since we were ten and you had that ill-fated crush on Mills.”

“You two are like the same person.”

Jane patted his hand. “All I am saying is that if you don't admit that you like Maggie in the boy-meets-girl way pretty soon, your face is going to turn into an eggplant. And possibly explode.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Lack of oxygen. Purple,” Millie said, snapping her fingers. “Keep up, Taylor. The point she's trying to make is you are in total like with Maggie. And, you might want to do something about it. Something like, I don't know, ask the cute coffee-girl out for something other than coffee?”

He ran his hand through his hair and began kneading his neck. “It's complicated.”

Millie's eyes scrunched together. “What's complicated? When Mrs. Crossett leaves, go up to the counter, and say, ‘Hey, Maggie, how ‘bout we grab some dinner on me sometime?'” She lowered her voice and mimicked his hand motions.

“I do not sound like a surfer-dude.”

“You do in my head.”

Jane's mouth went into a tight line as she sent some mysterious girl message telepathically to Millie. He'd always wanted to know what they were silently saying to each other with those looks.

Jane's face softened with a smile as she focused on him. “What Millie means to ask is why do you think it's complicated?”

“Well, for starters, I'm her landlord. And until a few days ago, every time I talked to her it was like ripping a bandage off and exposing a puncture wound. I don't know what I'm feeling, but I don't think I should do anything rash. We're just beginning to be friends.” He thought it best to leave out the near slice of his belly at the end of her knife.

“I can see where there might be some complication with her renting the building from you, but can't you just put Mac or Joey over this building so there isn't a conflict of interest?” Jane raised her brows in question.

Tell Joey and Mac? A shudder ran through his body. “I could, if there was anything to tell. Which there isn't. I don't know what I feel. Well, at least not beyond relief that I can come into the café without an engraved invitation.” He lifted his hand to his shoulder again and kneaded the muscle that seemed to be perpetually tight.

Jane tilted her head to the side. “Sean, you like Maggie.”

“Hypothetically, let's say that I do. How do you two presume to know what I'm feeling?”

Millie laced her arms. “We always know.”

He slumped deeper into his chair, stretching his legs under the table. “Gee, thanks. I'm glad all of that time as a detective paid off.”

“Don't get all twisted up about it.” Millie grinned. “With everything else in your life, you're a medieval castle with a fifty foot moat keeping guard, but when it comes to your heart you've always been wide open spaces. That's why we would never have worked. Even in the fifth grade. I would have chewed you up and spit you out like yesterday's daily special.”

“Again, thank you. My ego is feeling so full I will barely be able to live with myself.”

Jane squeezed his fingers. “Sean, you know we both love you. And, although Millie has never been one for tact, she is right. Your heart rests solidly on your sleeve. It has since you were little and there's nothing wrong with that. More men should be so transparent with their feelings.”

He was mildly comforted by the generosity he saw in the depths of her gaze. But no self-respecting male wanted to be thought of as ‘transparent' with his feelings.

“I wish I had acted on my feelings for Lindy sooner,” Jane said. “Everything worked out for us, but it could have easily turned a different corner. I know this isn't even remotely the same situation, but if you really like Maggie as much as your face says you do, then do something about it. Don't let responsibility or expectation or what your brothers will say stop you from experiencing something life-changing.”

“Thank you, friend. I do feel something for her…man this feels weird. Dudes totally don't talk about stuff like this.”

Millie dropped her hand on top of their still-connected fingers. “I didn't think you were a surfer.”

Jane's brow drew to a tight line. “Millie, we are having a moment. Don't go all Millie over it.”

“Whatever.” Rolling her eyes, Millie lifted her chin towards the front window. “New subject…what happened to your cute little police station? I didn't think there was crime in this town.”

The flame of anger Sean had been keeping on a slow boil roared to a bonfire. “There was an explosion last night.”

“What?” Jane's hand plastered across her wide mouth.

“Is everyone OK? Were you in the station? Who would do something like that in Gibson's Run?” Millie questions tripped over each other in their jostle to free themselves from her lips.

His heart melted into a puddle. He loved these women. In the midst of treating him like a character dissection in their favorite love story, their minds collectively shifted with whiplash speed to concern over his well-being.

“No one was hurt. I was actually here at Only the Basics when the pipe-bomb shattered the window.”

Millie lifted a single eyebrow as she leaned back in her chair. “What were you doing over here, Mr. We're-just-friends?”

Jane pursed her lips. “Clearly that is not important right now, Mills.” Jane frowned. “Was Alvin or one of the part-timers on duty? No one in town was hurt, or my mom would've called. The trail of Bitsy Grey's gossip contacts spreads wide. I'm sure the news would have made it to Charleston by now if someone was injured.”

“Thankfully, no one was hurt. The station was empty. Beyond the fire department and Maggie, hardly anyone in town was bothered. Of course, Sissy Jenkins called me at home this morning to ask about it.”

“Wow, if Sis waited until this morning, it must not have been a big deal,” Millie said.

“That's what doesn't make any sense. No one knows anything and there doesn't seem to be a reasonable explanation for why someone would want to blow a hole through the side of the station,” Sean replied.

“Did you ask Jamison? As the high school principal, he might know if one of the kids was looking to pull an epic prank,” Millie offered.

“Spoke with him this morning, but I don't think it's a bored student looking for a step up from cow-tipping. The whole thing doesn't fit with normal vandalism and school pranks. Gibson's Run teens aren't this neat and organized. This is the work of someone who knows their way around explosives and how to keep the outcome quick and clean.” His brain flashed to the empty sedan and its showroom new interior. His chair legs scraped against the floor under the pressure of his added weight. “Ladies, I hate to run out on this conversation, but there's something I need to check out.” He rammed his hat on his head and nodded to Maggie as he jogged through the front door.

Discussion over his love life would have to be shelved. He had a suspicious car's owner to track down. Cleanliness may be next to godliness, but he had a gut feeling that his neat freak had little to do with God-like behavior.

8

“I'll see you tomorrow, Sean,” Alvin hollered.

Before Sean lifted his hand in a wave good-night, the front door closed behind his deputy.

The background check on the abandoned sedan had come in fifteen minutes earlier. According to Alvin, the system was down during the week, and that was why he wasn't able to get any of the information until this afternoon. Alvin had probably forgotten about the assignment until Sean reminded the deputy earlier today.

Now that he had the information on the rental car and its renter, his curiosity could be satisfied. The car was picked up at Dulles Airport by a Stephen A. Smith. A common name, but not one he could connect to a local. He wished the town council had approved his project plan to install a link to the FBI and the State of Ohio databases.

But they had turned him down because there wasn't anything but petty crime in Gibson's Run.

He couldn't argue with their logic at the time. He swiveled his chair to the computer and did a search for the car rental branch at Dulles and dialed the number. He waited on hold for several minutes before a woman informed him that their manager wouldn't be in until the next day, but she would be sure to leave a message for him to call. With one dead end, he dialed a sure thing, his old partner in Columbus, Chuck Riley.