Heartsong Cottage (16 page)

“Pour us a glass of wine?”

She removed two glasses from a cabinet and poured one glass of wine. The other she filled with sparkling water. Handing him the wine, she explained, “I think I'll stick with the soft stuff tonight. Believe it or not, I'm not ordinarily a drinker.”

Daniel thought it best to let that pass without comment.

“So, tell me about Linda.” She leaned back against the counter and sipped her water.

“I actually got the call about it as I left your house the other night. He's been arrested and arraigned—and, unbelievably—failed to make bail. Admittedly, it was high because he was considered a flight risk, but apparently he's had some major financial setbacks recently.”

“Oh. Wow. So they've gone home?”

“Yes. I drove her and Benny to the airport yesterday. She met with a divorce attorney this morning and they plan to file by the end of the day. Even if Mason Tate is able to make bail later on, Linda will have custody. What matters most is that Benny is safe.”

“Good job, Mr. Garrett. I'm so glad for them.”

“Me, too. With any luck, Tate will serve some substantial time in prison where he won't be a popular guy due to the nature of his crimes. As far as I'm concerned, he'll have earned each beating he's bound to receive.”

“Bloodthirsty, much?”

“For subhumans like him? You betcha. Now, it's my turn to ask a question. Why ‘Unchained Melody'?”

Shannon glanced toward the backsplash, a faint smile hovering on her lips. Daniel resisted the sudden urge to swoop in and kiss her as, suddenly, the little kitchen felt downright tiny. He turned his attention to the veal.

“Very nice, Mr. Garrett. As far as I know, you're the first person who has come into the kitchen and actually read the music. Most people don't see past the hearts and angel wings.”

“I'm trained to look past the obvious. So, why that song?”

“It's a heartsong.”

“Ah. I've wondered about that ever since I read the sign on your front porch. Define ‘heartsong' for me.”

She sipped her sparkling water and considered the question. “A heartsong gives you Grinch heart.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know … Dr. Seuss?
How the Grinch Stole Christmas
? At the end of the book his heart grows three sizes.”

“Ahh.”

“A heartsong is beautiful. It's timeless. It's a classic.”

You are a heartsong
. The words hung on Daniel's tongue, but he swallowed them. She'd think it was a line, and it wasn't. It was the truth.

“‘Unchained Melody' is a good choice,” he said with a nod. “This is a kitchen, after all. All that hunger…”

“And, apparently, the man who wrote the lyrics said the song was about a woman named Cookie.” Her expression turned impish as she said, “And it's the number one love song.”

“Seriously?” He set down his wine glass. “Are we really going there?”

Her eyes sparkling, she shrugged.

“It's a great song, but it's no higher than number four. ‘Unforgettable', ‘At Last', and ‘Lady in Red' top ‘Unchained Melody.'”

The debate lasted until they sat down to dinner.

The food turned out excellent, the veal tender and flavorful, the potatoes crisp and seasoned just right. Daniel's culinary repertoire was limited, but what he did cook, he cooked well. Shannon certainly appeared to savor her meal. He was pleased, especially once he saw her beginning to relax.

During dinner, they discussed their mutual friends, and Shannon gave him the details on Cicero's Albritton award dinner. “It was so exciting. Cicero is such a confident man, but when they announced his name, he froze in shock. Then he looked at Rose and his eyes went all soft and sort of gooey.”

“That's it. No doubt about it now. You're a romantic, Ms. O'Toole.”

Just like that, tension returned to the room. They both focused on their food for a few minutes until she took a deep breath and threw him a verbal bone. “This is the best meal I've had in ages. You must enjoy cooking.”

That topic kept conversation going until the end of the meal. It wasn't until they shared cleanup duties that the conversation drifted toward more personal topics. Knowing that she wasn't a native Coloradan, he asked her where she was from and how she'd come to live in Eternity Springs.

“My father was a contractor and we moved around a lot when I was growing up. I was living in Miami when I learned that I'd inherited Murphy's from a distant relative. I always liked the snow, so I thought I'd give Eternity Springs a try. I'm glad I did. I love it here.”

Daniel hadn't missed the shadow that flashed across her face at his question, or the note in her voice that suggested there was more to her story than what she'd revealed. “Are your parents in Florida? Any siblings?”

“No. I was an only child. My parents are both gone. How about you?”

She'd thrown up an obvious stop sign, so he took the hint. “My Bostonian native parents retired to Florida. They live in one of those senior communities and are happy as clams. She plays bridge and tennis and belongs to a book club. He plays golf six days a week. Hit his first hole in one last month. At age eighty-five.”

“Go, Dad.”

He lifted his wine glass in silent toast to his father. “I have siblings. No sisters, just brothers. Three of them.”

Shannon drew back. “Four boys? Your poor mother!”

“Poor me. I'm the oldest. They're all a bunch of knuckleheads.”

With the last pan washed and put away, and all the dirty dishes loaded in the dishwasher, Shannon suggested he pick out some music while she dished up bowls of ice cream. “I wouldn't mind having a fire if you're up to get it started.”

“I'm all over it.”

In her living room, he went first to her record collection. He stuck with the theme of the evening with his choices: Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Perry Como, and appropriately, he thought, the Righteous Brothers. Shannon entered the room carrying two stoneware bowls as he slid
Just Once in My Life
from its sleeve.

“I've decided that I really like the aesthetics of vinyl records,” he told her. “Putting them on to play is almost a ritual. You need to do it with care.”

“That's an interesting way to look at it.”

Warming to the subject, he continued, “I like the tactile quality of the cardboard sleeve and the weight of the record itself, especially the older, thicker ones. Even blowing away the dust before you thread it onto the turntable is part of it. There's something about listening to one side at a time that contributes to the moment, too. You don't have that with CDs. They're more like office supplies. Digital music is handy, but it's—” He waved a hand. “Air. Vinyl records are substantive. They're an experience.”

“Why, Daniel Garrett. I do believe you are sentimental and old-fashioned.”

“Can't argue that.” With the records loaded, he twisted the switch that started the turntable in motion. The first record dropped. The needle arm lifted and moved. Frank Sinatra began to sing and Daniel turned his attention to building a fire. She already had kindling stacked in the hearth. He called on his Boy Scout skills and soon had a nice fire burning. Taking a seat beside Shannon on the love seat, he accepted his bowl of ice cream. “So what flavor do we have?”

“I bought a gallon of Neapolitan to cover all the bases, but since dinner was so spectacular, I decided I needed to up my game. I dug into my supersecret wintertime stash from our seasonal ice cream shop.”

“This is Taste of Texas ice cream?”

“Yep. Almond toffee. You can't tell anyone I have it. My friends will beg all winter long.”

“Ah, Ms. O'Toole, you are a treasure.” In a movement unplanned and natural, he leaned over and kissed her.

Careful, Daniel.

*   *   *

Careful, Shannon.

Like a dieter in a candy shop, she told herself she could have one piece, and Shannon fell into the kiss. Both mellow and at the same time jazzed, she couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed an evening quite so much. The man was witty and entertaining and so fine to look at.

He ended the kiss a little sooner than she would have liked, and she heard a husky note in his voice as he said, “I'm afraid that just melted my ice cream.”

Shannon's voice was a little breathy when she replied, “We can't have that.”

“You're right.”

She gazed at him intently, saw the promise there, and experienced a wash of both disappointment and relief. He wasn't going to try to get her back into bed tonight.

They ate their ice cream in companionable silence, watching the fire and listening to music. When Frank gave way to Nat, Daniel put his arm around her. She didn't resist snuggling up against him. “This is nice,” he said, his fingers playing idly with her hair. “I really love your place, Shannon. It has such a homey feel.”

“Thank you. I love it, too.”

“When I was here in August, you had it up for sale. Did you change your mind?”

She recognized it as a natural opening to tell him about the baby. If she were going to do it at all, she probably
should
tell him now. It was a golden opportunity. They had privacy. He was in an affable mood. It might be her only chance to tell him face-to-face for quite some time. She knew that he always visited Hope Romano in November on the anniversary of his son's death, but that certainly wasn't the time to share news like this.

But she wasn't ready. She hadn't made that particular decision yet.

Oh, really? Don't lie to yourself.

She wasn't lying to herself. Was she?

He's a good man. A wounded man.

A trustworthy man.

Her heart began to pound. She cleared her throat. “My situation changed.”

“The job out at Three Bears? I went over there looking for you earlier and snooped through the houses. The work you've done so far is very nice. Have you had artistic training? You're very talented.”

Just do it. Tell him. Now.

“Daniel … I … um…”

He arched a questioning brow toward her and she chickened out and began to babble. “Thank you. No, I've had no formal training. I have had some long discussions about color with Sage Rafferty and learned quite a bit that way. I learned carpentry and a little plumbing from my dad. A visit to a tile museum during a trip to Portugal when I was at Stanford inspired my interest in tile and mosaics.”

“You went to college at Stanford?” he asked, obviously impressed.

Oh, for crying out loud. You walked right into that one.

“I never finished college. I did study tile work after the Lisbon trip. I was so intrigued by the azulejo—glazed and painted tile—I saw there. I loved how the buildings were covered in tile. The patterns are fabulous. My work with mosaics developed from that interest. Have you ever been to Portugal?”

“No. Work has taken me to Asia and Amsterdam a number of times, but that's the extent of my foreign travel.”

They discussed places they'd like to visit for a few minutes before the conversation returned to Eternity Springs. Daniel said, “And I understand you teach yoga in addition to running Murphy's and remodeling houses. So you're a Jill-of-all-trades, hmm?”

“You've been checking up on me?”

“Hope likes to share town gossip with me. She thinks I need to spend more time here.” He trailed his thumb slowly up and down her neck and a note of musing entered his tone. “Maybe she's right.”

“Celeste says Eternity Springs has a healing energy.”

“I won't argue the point.”

Shannon sensed the change in his mood even before he removed his arm from around her, stood, and crossed the room to the hearth. He picked up the iron fireplace tool and poked at the fire. Logs crackled and orange sparks fluttered up the chimney. “I like this town a lot. I've thought about moving here, but I don't know what I'd do to make a living. I don't know what I
want
to do.”

“You can't run your investigative firm from here?”

“Not easily or efficiently. My work involves a lot of traveling, so access to a major airport is important.” He returned the poker to the holder, then stood staring down into the fire. “It wears on a man, Shannon. I don't know if I can do it anymore.”

“Travel?”

He shook his head and said flatly, “Look for missing kids.”

The faint lines etched across his face had deepened, she saw. Her heart went out to him. “It must be a difficult job.”

“It's a beating. The losses outnumber the wins twenty to one.”

In that moment, Shannon thought she'd never seen anyone look so totally alone in her life. “But you've had some glorious wins,” she pointed out. “You're responsible for Eternity Springs' own missing-child miracle. You brought Holly Montgomery home to her mother.”

She saw him swallow hard. A gruff note entered his voice when he said, “That's definitely one of the best moments of my life. But times like that are few and far between. In the eight years I've been out on my own, you know how many of those home runs I've hit? Four. A whopping four!”

“Four is not an insignificant number. Especially not to those four families.”

“I know.” Internal conflict etched lines across his brow. “I try to remind myself of that. I understand that the base hits are important, too.”

“What is a base hit in your business, Daniel?”

“Answers. The reality is that by the time parents contact me, the vast majority of the children are already dead. Most of my job is providing information to parents about when and how their child died. It's important information. I know that from personal experience. The uncertainty is soul wrenching, an absolute killer. But what I have to do in order to gather that information—”