TESSA LAY ON her couch, resting her shoulder on a hot water bottle and clutching an ice pack to her elbow, wondering if dragging herself to bed was worth the trouble. It was, after all, a very comfortable couch.
Aunt Emma had stopped and checked her injuries, but she hadn’t been amused when Tessa tossed out a joke about doctors who made house calls. She’d scolded her niece for not visiting the medical clinic before finally admitting that nothing seemed to be seriously amiss.
The doorbell rang again, and Tessa groaned. Immediately after Aunt Emma left, Great-Uncle Milt had shown up again asking questions, though he’d refused to explain why he was so curious. Then her father had arrived with dinner, solicitously offering to spend the night to look after her. She’d convinced him to leave, but maybe he’d come back.
“Coming,” she called, hoping it was just a Poppy Gold guest. Her apartment at the Victorian Cat had an outside entrance from the garden clearly marked “private,” but that didn’t prevent them from occasionally ringing the bell.
To her astonishment, it was Gabe McKinley on her step.
“Uh, hi, Gabe.”
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Tessa didn’t feel like keeping a stiff upper lip, but she forced a smile. “I’m fine.” It was a response she’d given all day. The concern was nice, but every time someone asked, it made her stomach plunge.
“I doubt it,” he said bluntly. “Sorry for intruding, but I’ve got a few more questions about what happened today.”
Tessa’s eyes narrowed, her patience at an end. “Gabe, if you want a security job, apply for it. But don’t try to impress me this way. I’m tired and sore and don’t feel like talking. Good night.”
She closed the door firmly and limped back to the couch. It was bad enough to have fallen, but did everyone have to keep talking about it?
Yet she frowned as she put the ice pack back on her elbow, reminded that Gabe had seemed familiar to her since the day he’d started working at Poppy Gold. It’s his eyes, she thought, only to realize that Gabe reminded her of Rob McKinley.
McKinley?
No, there couldn’t be a connection. Her imagination was just working overtime.
* * *
GABE CONSIDERED KNOCKING AGAIN, but unless he told Tessa everything, he probably wouldn’t get far.
The sun was low on the horizon, and he thought about going to the Tofton House to see Rob, but there was too much chance of someone questioning why he was there.
His presence at Tessa’s apartment might also raise eyebrows, though it could prompt a different sort of question. After all, she was a beautiful woman.
Very beautiful.
Back at his studio cottage, he found a paper sack in front of his door, filled with the clothes he’d left in the laundry room. An envelope held the extra change he’d given Lance, with a careful note showing how much had been used to dry the load, along with the remaining balance.
It was almost as if the young man was concerned someone would question his honesty, but Gabe pushed the thought aside. Little was known about Lance Beckley other than he kept to himself, drove a motorcycle the town wasn’t crazy about and was dating Jamie Fullerton. And that he gave her frequent gifts. Supposedly the girl’s parents were wary of the relationship.
The money Lance was spending on Jamie was a question mark, but he’d started working at Poppy Gold after the thefts from TIP began. While that didn’t automatically mean he wasn’t involved, it was a factor in his favor.
Filled with restless energy, Gabe started doing push-ups. Despite his shoulder giving him less trouble the past week, he knew he tended to work harder on his right side. A fleeting wish went through him that he hadn’t retired from the navy, but maybe it had been time, anyway. Like athletes, a SEAL had a short active career. Even before he’d gotten shot, his superiors had been making noises about moving him into an administrative position, which he would have hated almost as much as working at TIP.
Still, it was more than restless energy driving him. He was trying to suppress his attraction to Tessa. It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t even his type; his tastes leaned toward earthier women. He liked sexual partners who were tall, experienced with casual affairs and deaf to the ticking of their biological clock.
Sitting at the small table, Gabe pulled out the new housekeeping schedule he’d copied at the employee center and began comparing it with the original schedule. Several other houses showed minor staffing adjustments, just none to the Tofton House. The changes were to be expected; Tessa had closed the El Dorado for repairs, so its staff had been transferred to other assignments.
Frustrated, Gabe shoved the papers away. The staffing assignments for Rob’s prior visits to Poppy Gold might reveal whether any employee had routinely worked in the El Dorado, except the old schedules weren’t available to him. All he’d been able to get were the ones posted in the employee lounge. So once again there wasn’t anything to latch on to; nothing to help catch whoever was stealing information.
TIP was unimportant compared with Rob’s well-being, but Gabe didn’t even know if the person stealing company secrets was connected to the damaged staircase. Or if they’d sent the threatening letters.
Gabe clenched his fingers into a fist, whispers of warning going through his head. The sense of time running out was difficult to escape.
* * *
LANCE KNEW HE was being paranoid, but he’d watched from behind his curtain to be sure no one disturbed Gabe McKinley’s laundry before he came home.
Seeing him take it inside had been a relief.
Lance paced around his studio thinking about Jamie. She was the sweetest, most generous person he’d ever known and had a quirky little smile that turned him inside out. She also seemed so good. Well, that wasn’t quite right. Jamie made him want to be better. When he’d gotten out of high school, he’d just figured he would take any job and make enough to get by. But now things were different. It was like she made him see there was more.
Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. He went outside and started walking again.
Glimmer Creek wasn’t bad. None of it seemed run-down or dangerous, even around the country bar that stayed open late. He’d had a fake ID for years, but he wouldn’t have tried going into the Gold Shanty, no matter what. After all, word might get back to Jamie’s parents, and the Fullertons didn’t drink. Maybe he ought to get rid of the ID. It wouldn’t be honest to use it, and he was over eighteen now, so he didn’t need it to apply for jobs with people who didn’t want to hire a minor.
The neighborhood where Jamie lived with her folks was especially nice, and he walked down the street. Most of the lights on the houses were off because people went to bed early in Glimmer Creek. The Fullertons’ house was a sturdy place with wide porches, a big lawn and curtains on every single window. It was a world he’d never known before—pretty and clean, with everything in its place.
Jamie had told him her bedroom was on the side, but he didn’t dare go around to see if her light was on in case her dad caught him. So he just stood outside and looked at the dark house, thinking that no matter what, maybe he’d always be on the outside.
That was what it was like to be a foster kid. You lived as if you were outside a candy shop you couldn’t go in. He supposed some foster homes were better, especially if they wanted to adopt you, but he’d never been in one. Maybe it was because his dad was in prison and people were scared he’d turn out the same way.
But he’d never steal or try to hurt someone. He couldn’t even dissect a frog in high school biology, much less do something worse.
A shadow moved on the porch, and a second later he saw it was Jamie.
“I figured you were asleep,” he muttered.
“I was sitting on the swing. I’m sorry I upset you, Lance.”
“You didn’t do anything. It was my fault.” He drew a deep breath, thinking he should tell her part of the truth at least. “The cops used to hassle me back in Sacramento. You know, because of the bike. And I don’t think they like it much here, either. Honest, I don’t try to make it loud—it just is loud.”
“I know that.” Jamie threw her arms around his neck, and he held her tight. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear. “Forever and ever.”
She’d told him the thing he wanted to hear most, and his throat got so tight he couldn’t say anything.
“Come on, let’s go sit on the porch,” she urged, pulling him toward the house. They sat on the porch swing, and she rested her head on his arm.
“Uh, I got you something,” Lance said, pulling out the bag he’d intended to give her earlier.
The paper crackled, and a minute later Jamie giggled. “It’s a charm for my bracelet, right? But there isn’t enough light to tell what it’s supposed to be.”
“Guess.”
“Well...it feels like a cow patty.”
The idea made him laugh, too. “It’s meant to look like gold in a gold miner’s pan, so that’s close enough.”
“Cool.”
She put her head back on his shoulder and he kicked the porch floor with his foot to rock the swing. They’d been out there a couple of times when her parents were around, but never in the dark, and he’d always sat upright and very proper in case somebody saw them.
“Are your mom and dad in bed?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
If she’d been one of the few girls Lance had dated in high school, he might have considered it a convenient chance to angle for more than cuddling and a few kisses. Jamie was different, though. Special. He couldn’t quite explain, even to himself, but he didn’t want to go too fast. She was too important to him to make it all about sex.
Under the streetlight on the corner he saw a cat strolling around as if it owned the planet. It’d be nice to feel that way, Lance thought. He yawned and closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze that was cooling the air. A dog barked in the distance, but the only nearby sound was the faint creak of the swing, slowly moving back and forth.
* * *
JAMIE FELT FUNNY as she woke up, comfortable, just not as if she was in bed.
Then all at once she realized the sun had risen and she’d fallen asleep on the porch swing with Lance.
She looked up and saw her mother. Embarrassment went through her, but she hadn’t done anything wrong. She and Lance had barely kissed, much less done anything more than that. And what if they had? She was eighteen, not fifteen.
Straightening, she eased off the swing. Her chin lifted as she gazed into her mom’s face. She didn’t want to be defiant, but she wasn’t a child any longer.
“Good morning,” she whispered.
“Good morning. I’ll have breakfast ready in a few minutes,” her mother whispered back. “Doesn’t Lance usually go to work on the orchard by six because of the heat?”
“Yes.”
As Emma Fullerton went back inside, Jamie shook Lance’s shoulder. She doubted he’d want to eat with her parents, but it would be nice if he did.
“Wh-what?” Lance mumbled, yawning widely.
“We fell asleep.”
He bolted to his feet as if stung by a bee. He looked around wildly. “Your folks... I’d better get out of here.”
“Mom says breakfast is nearly ready.”
“She saw us?”
Jamie shrugged. “She was worried you’d oversleep. Come on, you should eat before going to work, and there isn’t time to go back to your studio.”
It was up to him. She didn’t say anything else, just turned and went inside. Paper crinkled in her pocket, and she took out the small bag Lance had given her the night before. She shook out the little charm. It was darling, and she laughed about thinking it felt like a cow patty.
She walked into the kitchen and dropped a kiss on her father’s forehead. He was reading a book by C. S. Lewis. “Prince Caspian? Cool, Dad.”
“I’ve always enjoyed the Narnia Chronicles, and I like them much better than the Twilight series you made me read,” he grumbled.
“You’re the one who says a youth pastor should know what kids are reading and seeing at the movies,” Jamie reminded him. “You liked Divergent and the new Star Trek films, even the guy playing Mr. Spock.”
His eyes twinkled at her. “I don’t have a problem with the Twilight stuff—I’m just not into vampires.”
“Me, either. Anything I can do to help, Mom?” she asked brightly.
“Thanks, but I’m almost done. Lance is eating with us, isn’t he?”
“I’m here, Mrs. Fullerton,” Lance said from the doorway, sounding awkward. “Uh, sorry, I mean Dr. Fullerton.”
Jamie’s heart thumped painfully. He was so uncomfortable with people. With her, too, in the beginning. She didn’t believe women had to wait for guys to ask them out, which was a good thing because it might have taken Lance forever to do it himself. Of course, she wondered sometimes if he’d gone out with her the first time because he didn’t know how to say no. But it was okay. Now he was talking about everything they’d do in the future.
“Please call me Emma,” her mother urged him. “Have a seat, Lance. Do you drink coffee?”
“Yes, ma...uh, yes.”
Clearly, calling his girlfriend’s mother by her first name was more than he could handle. The breakfast Mom had cooked was fancier than usual, and Jamie hoped it was because she wanted to be nice to Lance. He was very polite, taking a serving of everything, even a bowl of oatmeal, which she knew he hated. He added brown sugar and cream before resolutely stuffing a spoonful into his mouth.
A smile broke out on his face. “Wow, this doesn’t taste like glue.” He promptly turned red. “Uh, sorry.”
Dad chuckled. “You’ve been a victim of vicious propaganda, young man. Everyone seems to think oatmeal should be creamy, but we like steel-cut oats, barely cooked so we have something to chew. Emma knows how to do it right.”
“So do you, Daniel,” Mom said pointedly. “Cooking isn’t solely a woman’s province.”
“I’d cook if you let me near the stove.”
“Maybe I would if you hadn’t burned up two of my favorite pots after we got married. How you could destroy quality stainless steel cookware is beyond me.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
After breakfast Lance waited while Jamie changed into her costume. It was too early for her to start work, but she wanted to walk to Poppy Gold with him.
Lance was quiet for several blocks, and then he glanced at her. “Don’t you hate it when your folks argue like that?”
Jamie blinked. “Argue?”
“That stuff about your dad burning up pots and all.”
She grinned. “That was a joke. Mom had a superwoman complex when they got married...as if she could go to medical school, have babies and still do all the cooking and cleaning. It took a while to sort everything out, but now they have fun teasing each other.”
“Your mom doesn’t do all the cooking?”
“Nah. They both work, so Mom usually handles breakfast, while Dad makes dinner. I take turns, too. But since Mom loves to bake, she does all the bread and pies and junk, though she doesn’t make as much now that my two brothers have gone to college.”
“I never knew anybody who could make bread.”
Lance didn’t say anything else, and Jamie wished she knew what he was thinking. She knew tons of people who baked bread; one of her cousins had even opened a sweet shop and was catering all the food for Poppy Gold.
Jamie thought about it. Perhaps she ought to learn how to bake, but not just to please her boyfriend. As for college... Mom and Dad wanted her to start in the fall, but she wasn’t so sure. One of her brothers was already in medical school, and the other wanted to be a veterinarian. But she didn’t know what she wanted to do, and right now being with Lance seemed the most important thing of all.
Still, while she lived with her parents, she was an adult now. She had a job, and when she said she’d do something, she’d darned well better do it. The niggling guilt she’d been feeling about her college class got even stronger.
She kissed Lance goodbye, then got out her phone and pulled up the number for her professor’s office down in Stockton. Studying history was dull compared with the excitement of falling in love, but she’d started the class and it wasn’t right to keep blowing it off.
Jamie pulled in a deep breath when the recorded voice told her to leave a message. “Hello, Professor Wendell, this is Jamie Fullerton. I’m a student in your Early California History night course. I know I haven’t been in class lately, but I’m calling to see if there’s any way I can make it up. I’m willing to do extra work or whatever it takes.”
She gave her phone number and disconnected.
It would mean missing time with Lance to attend classes and study and write papers, but she’d feel better if she finished the course.