Long Simmering Spring (13 page)

“Sorry. Bookkeeping isn’t my strong suit, either.”

Karen sighed. “And I thought today was supposed to be a sleepy, relaxing weekday. It’ll be all I can do to get through these numbers.” She straightened and raised her arms above her head to stretch. “Ugh, I’m being such a downer. Go, look around.” She gave Julie a friendly shooing motion. For a moment, the tiredness in her eyes disappeared and was replaced by her usual zip.

“I’ll do that,” Julie said with a smile. “Before I go, though, if it’s any consolation, I’ve been having a rough week too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Julie,” Karen said, her expression sympathetic. “What happened?”

“Some of my prescription pads have gone missing.”

“Missing?”

“Or stolen. I’m not sure.”

“That’s terrible! What will you do?”

“A whole reorder, for starters.”

Karen groaned. “What a total pain in the rear.”

“At least the supply company is expediting the shipment and I should have them any day now,” Julie said, shrugging. “I wised up and had them sent to my house this time so I could keep tabs on them from the moment they arrive.”

“Smart.”

“I hope so,” Julie said. “Anyway, good luck with
the books. If you need a pep talk, feel free to come down the alley and knock on my door. And maybe you should look into doing all that electronically from now on. Or better yet, hire an accountant. It might save you a lot of headaches.”

“At this point, I think something has to give,” Karen said, shaking her head. “But please, don’t stand here wasting your time. Enjoy the day. And good luck with your prescription pads.”

Julie smiled and moved to the shelves. She scanned a number of titles and pulled a few volumes down to study more closely. It felt wonderful to simply immerse herself in the pleasure of finding something good to read. After twenty minutes, she brought her selections to the front counter for Max to ring up.

Max looked at the titles approvingly. “Good choices.” He tapped the cover of one. “This one is excellent. I think you’ll really like it.”

“I’m sure I will.” She leaned back on the counter and looked fondly around the store. “This place is my sanctuary, you know. I can always find the right thing to suit my need or my mood when I’m here.” She turned back to Max.

“I wish more people felt that way,” he said ruefully. “Seems like there aren’t that many book lovers left.”

“I know,” she sighed.

As Max was ringing up her purchases, his cell phone rang. He looked at the number and frowned. “Excuse me, Julie. I have to take this. It’ll be just a minute.”

“No problem.” Julie absentmindedly perused the books displayed on the counter as Max walked to the back of the store, holding the cell phone to his ear. Dimly, she heard his muffled voice giving curt answers to whoever was on the other end of the line. His tone got sharper; then he was quiet. A few moments later, he returned to the front desk, his eyes worried.

“Bad news?”

“Just some shipping issues. I’ll get them resolved.” Max finished ringing up her purchases and then placed them in a small paper bag. “Have a good one, Julie.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

Julie picked up her umbrella and left the store. Her next stop? The Front Street Boutique, only a few doors down from her own office. She’d promised Cameron she’d stop by to check out her new displays. A hammered dulcimer attached to the door sounded melodiously as Julie pushed her way inside.

“Julie, great to see you.” Cameron greeted her with a big smile. “Thanks for coming over. I’ve just finished setting everything up. What do you think?” She plumped a needlepoint pillow with a picture of a whaling ship trimmed in deep blue velvet and placed it on an artfully weathered wooden bench. Cashmere throws in varied hues were stacked next to the pillow, creating an inviting look.

“The whole place looks great,” Julie responded without hesitation.

“You think so?” Cameron glanced around. “I’m glad. I’m constantly tweaking the displays because I really want it to look different from my Boston store. I think I achieved the right look for Star Harbor.”

“Well, if you were going for luxe New England fishing village turned artist colony turned playground to Boston’s elite, I think you’ve got it.”

Cameron laughed, her voice warm and low. “That’s
exactly
the look I was going for.”

A striking woman in her mid-twenties, Cameron had recently opened up her second boutique in Star Harbor. Like this one, her first boutique, located on Boston’s Newbury Street, sold a carefully curated selection of antiques, upscale women’s clothing, home accessories, and art, which her well-heeled clientele snapped up.

Of course, it helped tremendously that Cameron was lovely and had a fabulous sense of style. With her aristocratic features, long black hair, and vibrant purple-blue eyes, she looked like the woman of privilege that she clearly was. She would often model the clothing for sale in her store, which only made her wares sell even faster. Better yet, Cameron also had a sharp mind. She had leased her store space just as Julie purchased her building to set up her practice, and she and Julie had talked a great deal about launching their businesses. Although their work couldn’t have been more different, they still used each other as sounding boards to discuss common issues.

“You didn’t really need my help,” Julie teased, picking up a beautifully packaged candle and sniffing it. “Mmm . . . honeysuckle.”

“I did,” Cameron insisted, a hand over her heart. “Your opinion means a lot.”

“Well, the place really does look incredible,” Julie said, putting the candle down near the register.

“Thanks. By the way, I’ll be staying in town over the next few weeks. At least one of those days I’d planned to spend a few hours away from the store to give Anna, my new assistant, some time alone as a trial run. Would you like to join me for a walk or a hike?”

“I’d love to,” Julie said immediately, proud of herself for not hesitating. In times past, she would have thought long and hard about whether she could afford to give up some precious work time, but now that she’d realized being with Cole was helping her work more efficiently, she thought it might work just as well with her other relationships.

“Wonderful. Just let me know what days might work.”

“Great. I’ll do that,” Julie said, pulling out her purse. “I’m taking this candle.” She was going to take a nice, hot bath tonight, and relaxing in the water with that amazing smell permeating the room would be even nicer.

“Of course,” Cameron said, coming around the desk to ring up her purchase. “I didn’t know you were so into scent.”

“I’m not. I just need to unwind.”

“Now
that
I can understand.”

After they’d finished the transaction, Julie tucked the candle into her bag. “Thank you so much! See you soon.”

Cameron waved as Julie walked to the door. Despite the fact that she’d have to trudge through the rain to get home, her step was light. She looked forward to hanging out with Cameron again, and for the first time, she didn’t think about what that would do to her medical practice’s bottom line.

Julie’s prediction was right. The rain had tapered off on Thursday evening, by Friday the dampness was gone, and Saturday dawned bright and clear. She had no clinic hours—the perfect kind of day for cooking. Before she made the trip to Martins’s Market for some fresh produce, she found a good recipe for ratatouille on a foodie website and texted Lexie.

Julia Kensington: Hey, lady. Making ratatouille. Tomatoes, eggplant, peppers, onion, zucchini—sound right?

Lexie M: Yep & herbes de Provence, garlic, basil, and parsley. Don’t forget garlic! Plus salt & pepper. U can add yellow squash if Will has some. Also mushrooms. Mmm.

Julia Kensington: I like the mushroom idea. Thx. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Lexie M: Awesome. xo

Armed with a shopping list, Julie went to town and got her supplies. Then she stopped at her office to grab some paperwork. Insurance billing forms were the bane of her existence, but as long as she could work in the comfort of her own porch, she’d be happy. The weather was just perfect—bright and moderately warm.

Once home, she unpacked the groceries, poured herself a glass of homemade iced tea, donned her most comfortable jeans, and headed to the porch. She arranged the papers on a side table and sank down into a cushioned chair, tucking her feet underneath her body. Then she began to plow through her papers.

Julie had been working steadily for several hours when a crick in her neck prompted her to get up and stretch. She walked to one end of the wraparound porch, from where she could see the potting shed situated in front of the woods. Staring at it, she realized that the door was ajar. Julie frowned. That shed hadn’t been used in a long time. Perhaps an animal had gotten inside. She hoped not, as she didn’t even want to think of what a large raccoon could do to the delicate clay pots and ancient gardening instruments.

Hoping she wouldn’t find the shed a complete shambles, she walked across the lawn to the small building and pushed the door open all the way, allowing the daylight to brighten the dusty dimness inside. Without stepping in, she glanced around. To her relief, the shed was in fine shape. Clay flowerpots lay on a shelf, stacked high in neat piles. A tall wooden table sat against one wall, dusty but unmolested. Tools hung from pegs on the wall above the table, organized by size.

Satisfied that everything was in order, she went to shut the door. It stuck a tad, so she glanced down. There they were.

Footprints in the dirt. Huge, deep footprints that most definitely weren’t hers.

From where the person had stood, he’d have a perfect view into the big windows that looked out over the porch. Or to the long, gravel driveway that wound up to her house.

She stepped back from the shed fast, looking around instinctively, before realizing how silly that was. Whoever was here was likely long gone. Those footprints had clearly been made when the ground was soft. Whipping her cell phone out of her pocket as she headed back into the house, she did a search for the Sheriff’s Department and then dialed the main number.

“Star Harbor Sheriff’s Department, Rhonda Lee speaking. State your name, location, and the nature of the emergency.”

“Hi, Rhonda Lee, it’s Julie Kensington,” Julie said, envisioning the dispatcher with her large halo of blond hair. “This isn’t really an emergency, but I’d like to report a . . . an unusual situation. I think I might have a Peeping Tom.”

“Are you at home or work?

“Home.”

“Is the perpetrator still on the premises?”

She looked out the back window again at the shed. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay, Julie. Let me send someone out to take a look.”

“All right, thanks,” she agreed. She wasn’t sure what made her so uneasy about the whole thing, but that little knot in her stomach wouldn’t go away.

After hanging up, she went back to the porch, gathered up all her stuff, and went into her house. Uncharacteristically, she locked the door behind her. It wasn’t long before she heard the doorbell ring.

She peeked through the window and saw Cole. He wasn’t in uniform, but he still looked every inch the sheriff with his mirrored sunglasses and military-straight posture. Quickly, she opened the door.

“The big boss man himself,” she said. “I’m honored.” He was wearing an olive-green ribbed sweater and a pair of old jeans.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Cole removed his sunglasses and gave her a proprietary look, eyes sweeping up and down. “What’s going on? Is the Peeping Tom still here?”

“No, and I’m not even sure that there is one. Just let me show you.” She led him through the house to the back door, conscious of his presence behind her the whole time. They walked out onto the porch. “There are footprints inside the shed. I haven’t gone in there in ages. Someone’s been here.”

“You have gardeners come recently?”

“They haven’t come yet this spring.”

“Let me go check it out.” He went down the porch stairs and stalked over to the shed, his sweater hugging his torso like a second skin. As she watched him, he examined the structure from all angles, even thumping it to test its soundness. She could have told him it wasn’t sound. The shed was pretty rickety—it had been for some time. After a while, he returned, looking grim.

“Someone’s definitely been in there recently. A man, most likely, based on the size and shape of the footprints. I’m going to take some photographs and measurements and dust for prints. My gear’s in the squad car. I’ll be back in a moment. Why don’t you wait inside while I do this?”

“All right.” She went back into the house and Cole went around the side to get his equipment. She needed to forget about the insurance forms and do something less demanding, like food preparation. She pulled out all her produce, washed it clean, and began to chop. After a few minutes, Cole came back in, crossed his arms over his broad chest, and leaned back against the counter near where she was standing.

“Okay, I got what I needed. For now.” He looked at her meaningfully.

“What do I need to do?” she said, cutting up a mushroom cap.

“Leave.”

She stopped chopping and looked at him. “Are you joking?”

“No.”

“Where am I supposed to stay, then?”

“With me.”

“Don’t you live on your brother’s boat? No thanks,” Julie said, turning back to the counter and beginning to slice another mushroom.

“Julie, I’m serious. I don’t know what’s going on up here, you’re all alone, and I—” He ran his hand through his hair, and he seemed to be trying hard to keep his composure. “I am going to
strongly
suggest you stay somewhere else until we figure out what’s going on.”

“I’ll tell you what,” she said, shoving aside her mushroom pile and starting in on an eggplant. “Let me in on the investigation and I’ll move.”

“I told you that the Sheriff’s Department can only use your services as they pertain to medical issues relating to specific drug cases.”

“That’s not good enough. I’m the only doctor in Star Harbor. People in this town—my patients—are getting caught in the crossfire and getting hurt.”