THE JOVIAL THURSDAY-EVENING CROWD of tourists packing the boardwalk frustrated Maddie in her efforts to find just one specific tourist. With frantic calls of “Excuse me!” she darted this way and that, skirting around people or bravely weaving her way through their thronging midst. Where the devil is he?
Then, miraculously, there he was up ahead. Thank you, God. Relief washed over Maddie, weakening her momentarily. Clutched in her hand was the man’s money, plus some. She hurried to catch up to the tourist family who’d left her shop several minutes ago. They were now entering the open-air game arcade on the boardwalk. Maddie entered right behind them. Assaulting her senses were the bright lights, the dings and bleeps of the games, the children’s happy shrieks, and the carnival music from the antique merry-go-round.
With her red bib apron still over her skirt and blouse, Maddie valiantly threaded her way through this even more densely packed crowd, desperate to keep the back of her target’s head in her sight. “Sir? Yoo-hoo? Excuse me, sir? The man with the sack from Maddie’s Gifts? Hello? There’s been a mistake.”
Hearing her call out and seeing her pointing at the man in the checkered shirt, more than one stranger got his attention and pointed back at Maddie. The man and his family stopped, turning to face her. “Are you talking to me?” the man said, his expression open and curious.
With a hand to her chest, as if that would stop the exercise- and fear-induced fluttering of her heart, Maddie nodded and swallowed. The crowds of people surged to and fro around her and the family whose evening of fun she’d just interrupted. “Yes, I am. I’m sorry to bother you, but a mistake was made at my shop.”
The wife clutched at the man’s sleeve. “What kind of mistake?” he said, not looking so friendly now. His fist closed tighter around the heavy gift bag from her shop. “I gave you the correct amount of money, didn’t I?”
This was going to be a delicate transaction, Maddie could tell. “Yes, sir, you did. Correct as far as what my clerk told you was the price.”
“You can’t change the price on me.”
Maddie was quick with a conciliatory smile. “Oh, no, sir. I’m not going to do that. In fact, I want to buy back your purchase from you, if I could.”
The man exchanged a glance with his wife, who gathered up their three small children and headed with them toward the merry-go-round. “Buy it back?” he wanted to know, his gaze flitting to the curious onlookers stopping and listening. “Why would you want to buy it back? Aren’t you in business to sell things? I didn’t know your store was a swap meet.”
“I understand your confusion, sir. I do. And I’d like to make it up to you. You see, the mistake was my clerk’s. That particular item she sold you isn’t for sale. What I’d like to do is refund to you the purchase price, plus twenty dollars for your trouble. Please.” Maddie held the money out to the man, making sure that her pleading heart was in her eyes.
The man, a dark hairy brute wearing a Hanscomb Harbor souvenir fishing hat, eyed the money and then Maddie. “Well, that’s real nice of you. But I want the lobster clock. I’ve never seen another one like it.”
Oh, God. Maddie wet her lips and took a deep breath. The people pressed curiously around her and the tourist were being jostled by passersby. In turn, they bumped into her and the tourist, who was now in legal possession of James’s ashes. Still, Maddie focused on not letting the big man lose face with the crowd around him. “You’re absolutely right. It’s a wonderful clock, and there isn’t another one like it. Let me tell you why. You see, my friend died recently—”
Sympathetic ohs from the interested bystanders interrupted her. “Thank you. He’d lived a good long life,” she said, acknowledging them before again focusing on the tourist, who was looking decidedly uncomfortable now. “And I hate to do this to you because, believe me, I know how it sounds. But, you see … well, my late friend’s ashes are in that lobster’s belly.”
Disgusted oohs and ughs from the crowd now filled the air.
“Hey, it’s not like it was my idea, okay?” Maddie announced to everyone around her.
“Good God, lady,” the poor customer blurted. “Your friend’s in this thing? Here. Take it.” He shoved the fat, heavy bag—Celeste always went nuts with tissue wrapping—into Maddie’s hands. “And keep the money. I don’t want it.” He rubbed his hairy hands on his black shorts as if they’d somehow been tainted.
Clutching James and his clock in one hand, Maddie held out the money with her other. “Please. Take the money. I insist. It’s yours. And the extra twenty dollars.” He shook his head no. “For your kids, then. Buy them an ice cream on me. I’m really sorry for this inconvenience and distress.”
The man eyed her, the money, and the watching people around them. “All right,” he said, dragging his words out and grabbing for the money. “For the kids. And thanks. That was nice of you. Sorry if I upset you.”
Elated at the outcome—she had James back and perhaps hadn’t lost any customers into the bargain—Maddie shook the man’s sweaty hand and smiled. “I’m not the least bit upset. And I hope you’re not. I just want to thank you for your understanding and wish you and your family a wonderful stay in Hanscomb Harbor.”
With a big smile plastered on her face, Maddie groaned inside. Even to her own ears, she’d sounded as if she were the mayor or the president of the chamber of commerce. But her words had the desired effect. The tourist was clapped on the back and smiled at and told what a big person he was. Off he went with his new friends and in search of his family. For her efforts, Maddie received similar treatment, as well as a few more condolences on her loss, as she turned and made her way out of the arcade.
Maddie now stood on the relatively uncrowded sidewalk and off to one side of the arcade’s busy entrance. She took a deep breath of the wonderful night air, an aromatic soup of seaside scents stirred with the fragrance of summertime itself. Thus fortified, she turned her gaze toward her shop. Her eyes narrowed murderously. And now … to go kill Celeste.
She hadn’t gone more than ten steps before she heard, “Maddie!”
She turned around and spotted him. Her heart stuttered. “Hank.” Her fingers closed spasmodically around the heavily wrapped package in her hands. Hank wasn’t alone. “And Beamer. Oh, no.”
The retriever spotted Maddie. Her furry floppy ears perked up with joy. She began howling and barking and tugging against her leash, straining in Maddie’s direction. Tourists grabbed up their children and instantly cut the lunging animal a wide berth—clearing a path for the dog straight to Maddie.
“No. Uh-uh,” Maddie warned, fearing she’d be trampled first by the dog and then the crowd in these close quarters. She tucked the lobster clock close against her side like a football and held her other hand out defensively toward Hank and Beamer. “It’s not Friday. You said Friday.”
Hank, using both hands to control the dog, blurted out, “Run, Maddie. I don’t think I can control her. Go!”
She couldn’t believe he was telling her to run. Was he kidding her? But still, horrified of being licked into submission—and in public—Maddie backed up another step as she glanced over her shoulder. She feared any moment her heel would strike one of the buckled squares of old sidewalk and send her reeling. It would be just her luck to have rescued James from the tourist, only to drop him herself and scatter him across the sidewalk and over unsuspecting tourists. Her nightmare come to life.
“I’m serious, Maddie. Go. Beamer’s never been to obedience school. And she loves you. I don’t think I can hold her much longer.”
The dog lunged with great bounding happiness and nearly tore loose from Hank. Maddie forgot dignity as she shrieked and jerked around, running for all she was worth, running as if a whole clown-carload of circus dogs was on her heels. Clutching James’s stupid lobster clock to her chest, she broke a few land speed records getting away, fearing as she did that any moment Beamer would tackle her and knock her to the ground and thoroughly slurp her to death.
* * *
“Well, great. You’re really cool,” Hank said, speaking to the suddenly docile and forlorn-looking golden retriever at the other end of the leash from him. Beamer turned big moist brown doggie eyes up to him and whined. “No, that’s not going to work. Forget it. I thought big glossy dogs like you were supposed to be chick magnets, not repellents.”
Beamer’s flattened ears and narrowed brown eyes quickly brought him around. The lady was clearly offended. She sat there regally—facing away from him.
“Great. First Maddie. And now I’ve insulted the dog,” Hank muttered. “I’m batting a thousand here with females.” He tugged on the leash. “Come on, Miss Congeniality.”
Apparently over her snit, Beamer obeyed, ambling along at Hank’s side, the two of them headed companionably in the direction of Maddie’s Gifts. “This doesn’t change anything, you know,” Hank said to Beamer. “I mean between you and Maddie. You’re still her dog.”
If Beamer had an opinion on that, she kept it to herself.
So, without further canine mishaps Hank and Beamer reached the front door of Maddie’s shop. Inside, the lights were bright and customers milled around like off-duty ants. But it was the No Pets Allowed sign that stopped Hank with his hand on the big brass doorknob. What now? He exchanged a glance with the dog. But apparently Beamer knew where she was and what she was to do. Taking advantage of the slack in the leash, she padded over the few steps she needed to put her under the display window. She lay down like a sphinx and stared back at him, as if to say her being kept out of a place of business was a clear-cut case of dog abuse.
“Oh, stop it. It was your idea to go over there. What are you going to do? Call the SPCA?” Hank shook his head at being bested by a dog.
Then his gaze shifted to what sat on the sidewalk in front of Beamer’s furry bulk. A big doggy water bowl of stainless steel. Interesting. Hank assessed the situation, seeing in his mind’s eye his grandfather leaving Beamer out here when he visited Maddie. Suddenly feeling a little undone, and with his throat threatening to close, Hank peered into the shallow bowl. There was no water. Only dried bits of leaves and some dust. A shred of ribbon. And a tiny plastic spoon like you’d get with a sample from an ice-cream parlor.
The bowl had been empty for a while. Driven by a sudden need to set things right, he looked around and then took the few steps over to the side of the building. Given the night’s darkness in the driveway between Maddie’s shop and the next store over, a drugstore, he couldn’t see a spigot anywhere and didn’t feel as if he should trespass to hunt for one.
Acute frustration ate at Hank. Still, he felt compelled to wash the bowl out and put fresh water in it for the dog. But he was honest enough to admit it wasn’t only for Beamer that he needed to do so. He needed to do it too for his grandfather. And for himself, so his grandfather wouldn’t seem so … far away.
Just then, and behind him, the door to Maddie’s Gifts opened. Hank expected maybe departing customers. Maybe even Maddie herself. No doubt by now he and the dog had been seen by someone inside. But the person standing in the doorway was none of the above. It was that tiny Celeste woman, garbed in a shocking array of orange satin and polyester under her red bib apron that matched the one he’d just seen Maddie wearing. So bright was Celeste’s outfit that it hurt the eyes to look at her without squinting … which Hank did.
“Well?” she greeted him, smoothing back from her wrinkled brow a stray lock of snow-white hair. “You coming in or not? The dog will be fine out here. She’s used to it.”
“She doesn’t have any water,” Hank heard himself saying.
“Then hand the dish to me,” Celeste groused irritably, holding her age-gnarled hand out to him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, stooping to pick it up and then shaking the debris out of it. He wanted to ask about Maddie but couldn’t bring himself to do so.
“Hurry it up there. I’ve got a shop full of customers all to myself. I can’t keep an eye on them and you too.”
All to herself? Then Maddie hadn’t come back to the shop just now? “Here you go.” He handed her the bowl. She wrinkled her nose at its condition. “Thanks, uh…” All Hank knew her by was Celeste, but he didn’t feel he should call her that unless she invited him to do so.
“Celeste McNeer, one of the downtrodden masses forced to toil unto the brink of death. Now unclip that leash and bring it in with you. Beamer will stay put. Don’t worry about her.”
But Hank did. He worried. He looked from Celeste to the dog and back to Celeste.
Her heavy sigh was clearly one of impatience. “We don’t aim to air-condition the outside here, son. You coming in or not? Much longer and my boss’s electric bill will be more than the gross national product of Tahiti. Which is where I’m going to retire in my old age and wear a grass skirt. And don’t you make the first senior-citizen joke about that, either.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Fighting a grin, and instantly liking this woman, Hank turned away to unclip the leash. He then ruffled Beamer’s ears with an affectionate swipe, and turned to go inside with Celeste. She stepped out of his way so he could come inside and then allowed the door to close behind her. The place was a mob scene of browsers and shoppers.
“Like I said, it’s busy. Here.” She gave him back the water bowl. “Go back there where that curtain is. There’s a bathroom in there. Don’t make a mess, or you’ll be cleaning it up. Get the dog some water and take it to her. And then you can make yourself useful around here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Like a mannerly little boy, Hank nodded his understanding of his orders. It had been a long time since he’d allowed anyone to dictate to him. But it amused him to see how readily he did the bidding of the tiny and fearsome Celeste McNeer. Not that he was afraid of her. He wasn’t. It was just that discretion was, after all, the better part of valor. “Can I ask you something, Mrs. McNeer?”
“Anything but my age or how old I was my first time.”
The chuckle broke free of Hank. He quickly covered it with a discreet cough. “No, ma’am, nothing like that. I just don’t see Maddie here anywhere.”
“That’s because she’s not. I already told you that. You slow or something, boy?”
“No, ma’am. I, uh, should tell you that Maddie probably won’t want me here.”
Celeste looked him up and down. “Then what are you doing here? You a troublemaker of some sort?”
Hank thought of his corporate image. “In some circles.”
“Well, not in this one. And don’t you worry about Maddie. I can handle her with one hand tied behind my back.”
Hank’s private opinion was that Celeste McNeer could probably handle three or more countries of medium size with one hand tied behind her back.
“Well?” Celeste arched her thin gray eyebrows at him and pursed her lips. “You coming or not? And don’t act like Maddie’s absence isn’t your fault, either. Because I know better. And so do you, young man. Now, get that dog some water, and then the two of us, me and you, are going to do some serious work.”
* * *
Locked in her house that was attached to the back of her shop and clutching James’s still-wrapped lobster urn to her chest, Maddie sat in her favorite chintz-covered chair and tried not to be so angry or humiliated. But in fact, she was both. Damn that Hank Madison, anyway. He’d made her cry. She swiped at her nose with her wad of tissues. The big jerk. In the space of one week, he’d met her, accused her of being a hussy for money, kissed her, lost his fortune and his company to her, asked her out for a drink, had told her he was sorry he’d kissed her, then asked her to be his co-conspirator, and now here he was tonight—with a dog in tow that she didn’t want.
And James. Can we go there, huh? What was he thinking with his new will, leaving her everything and his grandson nothing? How screwy was that? She didn’t want to be a chairwoman of the board of anything. She didn’t want to make this decision about allowing Hank to defect for a few days. And she didn’t want James’s dog. Or his grandson.
Yes she did … maybe the grandson, anyway.
“No I don’t.” Maddie shifted to a hopeless flop, causing the gift-wrapped lobster to tip over to one side. Stubbornly, as if trying to push her out of the chair, the darned thing wedged itself between her and the upholstered chair arm. Maddie inhaled a shuddering breath. Evidently she was done crying because no more tears fell. All she knew was she didn’t dare risk leaving Celeste alone in the shop with an evening full of customers. The ramifications were too hideous to contemplate.
Maddie knew that Celeste, left to her own devices, would give away the entire store, building and all. Maddie slouched down into the chair’s comforting cushions and pronounced herself to be in a complete funk topped by a pout. A major dose of feeling sorry for herself. She hated it. “All right, girlfriend,” she urged herself. “Pull yourself together and get yourself back to work. Right now.”
With that, she struggled up from the chair and straightened her clothes. She eyed the wrapped urn. She straightened it, setting it upright in the chair. Leaving it tipped over seemed disrespectful.
With that settled, Maddie stepped over to a framed mirror above the tiny buffet in her diminutive dining room. She stared at her reflection in the glass. A groan escaped her. Her neck was red and splotchy. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, I am not the fairest of them all. Great.” Her eyes were swollen. Streaks from her tears marred her makeup. Her mascara had run. And her hair was a mess. “Well, aren’t I the embodiment of loveliness?”
Maddie went into the closet-sized bathroom with its 1920s fixtures and repaired what she could of her appearance. Within a few minutes she was opening the common door from her house into her shop and was stepping over the threshold into the storeroom. She closed the door behind her, pulled a ring of keys from her apron pocket, found the correct one, and locked the door.
Returning the keys to her apron, she made her way around the boxes and shelves of merchandise that stood between her and the heavy curtain that separated the storeroom from the shop floor. She stopped and looked at her watch. Good. The store would close in an hour. She could do this. Thus fortified, she resolutely walked to the curtain, pasted a smile on her face, and tugged the curtain back.
The sight that greeted Maddie stopped her where she was, the curtain still clutched in her hand. Her mouth opened, her pulse rate picked up.
Not twenty feet away, standing in profile to her and wearing a much-too-small red bib apron like hers and Celeste’s, was Hank Madison. The man was waiting on her customers. Every female customer, that is. He was surrounded. It was like December, the women were children, and he was Santa Claus. He was enjoying every minute of it, too, she could see, if one could judge by his bright grin and his easy manner. As she watched, he pointed hither and yon to various displays. He described the merit of each item held out to him by one of the smitten ladies. He even went so far as to check a price and the future availability of an item.
Enchanted and bemused despite herself, Maddie finally let the curtain fall behind her and just stood there, her arms crossed under her breasts, and watched him. She couldn’t really blame the women because she was a bit star-struck herself. All a woman could do, when she first saw him, was take in the whole package, consider the whole man. Only after a bit of staring could she begin to pick out individual features. Like his dark and wavy hair, cut short and stylish. His high forehead, those deeply black eyes, the aquiline nose, and that sensual mouth. The way he carried himself, his athletic physique, the way his clothes fit him. The way he smiled down at each woman who clamored for his attention.
A heavy sigh escaped Maddie. There was no doubt about it. Hank Madison was a major heartthrob. Just then, as if he’d read her thoughts and knew she was there and checking him out, Hank turned and caught sight of her. His gaze locked with hers. Maddie’s breath caught, her bones melted. Something deep within his eyes softened yet seemed to heat up. He winked at her and turned his attention again to the middle-aged woman who was coyly batting her eyes at him and hanging on every word he said. Maddie shook her head. The man could sell these women the very rolls of toilet paper out of the bathroom.
And if he did, judging by the cacophony off to Maddie’s right, Celeste would ring it up on the cash register for them. The tiny woman was like an army general directing troops. She had the crowd of customers in a single file formed to the left, their selections and their money in their hands as they stood out of the way of the shoppers in the aisle. The poor people in line appeared shell-shocked, yet pleasantly so, as if they considered themselves to be insiders, part of some frenzied buy-up in the shop that the general public didn’t yet know about.
Looking from one to the other of them, Maddie put a hand to her mouth to hide her grin of amusement. She wondered if she should wade in or stay out of the way. While Celeste and Hank certainly didn’t seem to need her help, it was her shop. Just then Hank made up her mind for her. He caught her attention by calling out her name. Maddie turned his way and saw him waving her over. She stepped around several children searching through a big plastic bin of beach toys and finally made her way over to her new shop employee, Hank Madison, erstwhile advertising tycoon and business mogul.
“Yes, Hank?” she asked, her professional smile firmly in place and giving away nothing as she stared up at his handsome face. “How can I help you?”
“Well, actually,” he said just as seriously, acting as if his very rent payment depended on making this sale, “you can help me with Mrs. Wainwright here from Rhode Island.”
“Hello.” Maddie nodded, not able to ignore the shocking layers of makeup the woman wore. And we aren’t even going to talk about that shoe-polish–black hair. “I’m Maddie Copeland, the owner of the shop. What can I do for you?”
But it was Hank, the consummate salesman, who answered for the customer. “She’s interested in this handbag here. But she wants it in silver. We only have it in gold here on the floor. I was wondering if that shipment of purses came in on my day off and might be in the stockroom?”
He was dead serious. Or seriously mocking her and the entire working public. Not sure if she was outraged or amused, or both, Maddie, just as dead-seriously, smiled up at him. “I’m not sure. Come with me to the back, Hank, and we’ll both look.” He was going to protest, she could see it in his face. So she gave him no way out. “Excuse us a moment, Mrs. Wainwright. We’ll be right back. Hopefully, with that silver purse for you.”
Maddie grabbed Hank’s arm, refusing to be impressed by the hard muscle of his bicep, and propelled him past protesting females all the way back to the stockroom. The divider curtain had no sooner fallen back in place than Maddie released him and whirled to face him. “What do you think you’re doing, Hank Madison?”
“Shhh,” he cautioned, a finger to his lips. “That’s a pretty thin curtain. Everyone can hear you.”
Maddie lowered her voice. “What do you think you’re doing, Hank Madison?”
“Where were you just now, Maddie?”
“You can’t just come in here and put on an apron and start waiting on people! It’s not that simple.”
“I saw the water dish you left out front. Couldn’t bring yourself to pick it up, could you?”
“I have laws and things I have to abide by with employees, you know. Applications, background checks, insurance, things like that.”
“I’m sorry I made you cry. I didn’t mean to.”
Maddie had her retort all ready but then she finally heard him. And herself. She raised her hands, saying, “Wait a minute. We’re having two different conversations here. And you did not make me cry.”
“Your eyes look like you’ve been crying.”
“That’s because I have.”
“You said you haven’t.”
“I said you didn’t make me cry. I didn’t say I wasn’t crying.”
“Well, what were you crying about?”
“That’s really none of your business.”
“I think it is.”
Maddie exhaled sharply. “It’s not, but fine. No big deal. I was crying about nothing. I’m allowed to, you know. I’m a woman. We cry. We don’t have to have a reason.”
“I’m sorry, Maddie. I never meant to make you cry.”
He said it so quietly. Maddie felt terrible. She didn’t know what to say, where to look.
Then, in the pregnant silence that filled the bit of space between their two bodies, Maddie suddenly became aware of how Hank’s presence dwarfed everything in this close little room. Of how dusty the air was. How mercantilelike it smelled. Or maybe it was just that Hank was standing so close to her. And what that did to her nerve endings angered her. He had no right—and the man was standing over her like a vulture, she angrily decided, taking a step back. To her utmost shock, Hank advanced a step on her. She stepped back again. He came forward. A thrill of emotion shot through her.
She swallowed. Her heart was pounding. “What are you doing?”
“Exactly what you said. Looking for that shipment of silver purses.”
“Oh, you mean the ones that came in on your day off? Please.”
He grinned. “Just trying to help, ma’am.”
“Why are you trying to help? The last time I saw you I told you I didn’t want to see you—”
“Until you made your decision regarding my fate. I remember.”
“Good. But I haven’t decided yet.”
“I didn’t ask if you had.”
He had her there. “So what are you doing here?” She pointed to his red bib apron. Doggone him, the man looked wonderful in it. “And what makes you think I need your help?”
“I didn’t think you did. Celeste did. I came looking for you. She got me some water for Beamer—”
Maddie’s gasp cut off his words. She barely stopped herself from looking around desperately. “That’s right. The dog. I will not be slurped in my own shop. I won’t. I just fixed my hair and my makeup.”
“It’s okay. She’s outside. With the water dish.”
Relief flooded through Maddie. She clasped her hands over her heart. “Thank God.”
Hank’s expression was bemused. “That dog really loves you. Are you sure you’re afraid of her? I wouldn’t think she would act like she does if you hadn’t given her some encouragement.”
Maddie tried not to look guilty. So she’d bought the dog a rawhide bone or two in the past. And a stainless-steel water dish. So they’d played a game or two of fetch the stick. What was the big deal? “Well, I don’t encourage her. And I am afraid of dogs. In the same way that most people are afraid of sharks, I’m afraid of dogs.” She thought about that. “Well, and sharks, too. But they’re more easily avoided.”
“That’s true.” His gaze roved over her face, leaving Maddie self-conscious about her haphazard repair job on her makeup. “Well, don’t worry. She’s outside. Anyway, Celeste was here alone, and the store was filling up with people.”
With no warning, he reached out to her and straightened her blouse’s collar. Maddie stiffened as his warm fingers brushed her neck, leaving scorch marks where he’d touched her. But he kept on talking as if he weren’t aware that he’d done such an intimate thing. “So she tossed me an extra apron and told me to get to work. I did what anyone would have done to save his skin. I put the apron on and got to work. The rest you know.”
Maddie lowered her gaze, not sure she knew anything anymore. Except how this man’s nearness affected her.
“Maddie? Are you okay?”
She looked up, seeing the question in his black eyes. “Of course. I was just thinking of how we, well, ended things the other night. I think I’m just overwhelmed, Hank. And I know you are. I don’t know what to make of it all.”
“How about we just consider ourselves victims of a will left by a sweet but loony old man we both cared about and who cared about us?”
Maddie brightened. “I like that. It puts things in perspective. But I would like to talk to you some more before I make up my mind. I have about a billion questions.”
He grinned. “One for each dollar?”
“Oh, don’t remind me. It boggles the mind. And makes my stomach sick.”
“You’ll get used to it. Mine stays that way.” Then his dark eyes fairly gleamed with awareness of her as a woman. “Maddie, I’ve been a big jerk. I’d like to make that up to you.” He moved as if he meant to take her in his arms—
But the curtain behind him was jerked open on its metal rod. Maddie jumped and Hank spun to face it. In stepped the wrath of Hanscomb Harbor. Celeste McNeer. Her face was pruned up to show her displeasure. The divider curtain fell into place behind her. “I got a lady out here who looks like she pulled a heist at a makeup counter and wants to know what happened to the two of you and her silver purse. She says you’ve been back here for ten minutes.”
Stung with sudden remembrance, Maddie put her hands to her too-hot cheeks. “Ohmigod. Mrs. Wainwright.” She shoved at Hank’s back. “Go out there and appease her.”
He balked like a stubborn mule. “What should I tell her?”
“Tell her anything. She doesn’t really want a purse, you goose. She wants your time and attention. Give it to her.”
“Whatever you say. You’re the boss.” With that, Hank shrugged his shoulders and tidied his apron, still managing to appear very masculine. “Cover me. I’m going in.” With that he pulled the curtain aside and stepped out.
Grateful female voices chirped at his appearance. The curtain swung back into place. Maddie stared at the disapproving Celeste. And dared to smile.
“Don’t you smile at me, young lady. You just told your employee to go out there and use his body to make a customer happy. That’s sexual harassment.”
“I did no such thing.” Then she thought about it. “All right, I did. But I didn’t mean it like that, Celeste. Do you really think I’m guilty of sexual harassment?”
Celeste considered this for a bit. “No, on second thought, maybe not. After all, he doesn’t really work for you.” Her expression brightened. “He works for me. You think he’d let me sexually harass him a bit?”
“Celeste McNeer, don’t you even think about it. And I won’t—”
The curtain was ripped to one side. Startled, Maddie and Celeste gasped and grabbed at each other. It was Hank. His black eyes were deadly serious. “That lady left, so I went outside to check on Beamer. And she’s gone, too.”