“You’re bleeding a little bit.”
“I am?” Matthew asked, lowering himself to the curb before touching his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “I don’t remember him getting me there. Then again, all I really remember is the flapping … and the endless charging.” His eyes widened as he shook his head. “And the screaming. I didn’t know I could scream like that.”
Ah, Canada geese—aside from moose in mating season, probably the most aggressive predator in New Hampshire. And yes, I say predator, because they feed on fear. Buttercup was no exception.
“Don’t worry. You weren’t the only one screaming,” I said, planting myself on the curb beside him. It was a little strange talking to Matthew like I had just seen him the other day and not years ago, but we had just survived something together. It kind of allowed us to bypass awkward small talk.
“And the honking,” Matthew went on. “I think I may have lost some hearing in one ear.”
Once the bird had come charging out of the darkness, wings turning like two demented windmills, Matthew had jumped back into me and we both fell. I log-rolled toward the curb, shielding my head, but Matthew got up and faced off with the goose, pacing in a circle, like a sumo wrestler. Apparently Buttercup had a hurt wing and couldn’t fly, but his ground game was still pretty tight.
“Good idea to run to the backyard, by the way,” I added. Mrs. Moore had a shelter set up for Buttercup behind the house, and once Matthew had run him back, she had swung the gate shut. Of course that meant poor Matthew had been trapped with the hell beast for a few moments alone, but he had managed to jump the fence in the end.
“Yeah, there was no plan. I was just running. But don’t tell Mrs. Moore that. No one’s ever called me a hero before. It was kind of nice,” Matthew said, nodding, looking across the street. “I swear every time I’m in Otter Lake something like this happens.”
“Yaaas,” I said, throwing my hands into the air. “Thank you.”
“You too? Like last time I was home…” He cut himself short, and his features suddenly froze. He looked like he had been hit. I had forgotten about his father in all the chaos. He must have too.
“I’m really sorry for your loss,” I said after a moment had passed.
“It’s okay.” He brushed some dirt off the knees of his pants. “It wasn’t entirely unexpected.” I guess he saw something like shock register on my face, so he added, “My father was not a young man.”
I nodded and looked away. I didn’t want to imply anything else with my expression. I guess Matthew hadn’t been let in on the medical examiner’s plan. Grady probably didn’t want to cause him or his mother any unnecessary pain.
“I didn’t think you lived in Otter Lake anymore?” he asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject. A very powerful attempt what with his gentle smile and sad eyes. He’d always had that Ralph Lauren Polo ad look going for him … not that I would notice such a thing when I was dating somebody else.
“Oh, I don’t,” I said quickly. “I’m just visiting.”
“Is that coffee for your mother? Is she here?” he asked, looking around. “I’d like to say hello, and well, my mother said your mother makes this blend of tea that—” He paused to rub his forehead then winced when he remembered the cut. “—calms her nerves, I guess? The retreat was actually my next stop. I tried calling … and someone picked up. I could have sworn that I heard breathing … but I must have been wrong because no one said anything.”
“Yeah, no,” I said. “You didn’t hear wrong. My mom’s taken a vow of silence for the week. If you do call back, just talk. Pretend she’s an answering machine. It’s fine.”
Matthew smiled.
I raised my eyebrows. “I could get the tea from my mother and drop it by your place?” Whoa. Where the heck had that come from? I wasn’t normally that considerate. “I just need to find Grady first,” I added quickly, picking up and raising one of the coffees in the air.
“Grady? Grady Forrester?” There was something in his voice that I couldn’t quite put a finger on. Surprise maybe? “Are you two…?”
“No. Not exactly,” I said without thinking. “Well, maybe. I don’t—”
“Come to think of it,” he said, turning his head, considering me more closely, “I seem to remember the crush you had on Grady. Devastated the rest of us boys.”
“What? Well … that’s just…” I said, fumbling around for the right word, “stupid.”
Matthew’s brow furrowed in the cutest way.
“I mean not stupid … just not true. I mean … never mind.” And suddenly I was a tongued-tied idiot. What the hell was going on?
He chuckled softly. “Well, if you’re looking for Grady, I can tell you he’s not here.”
I cocked my head.
“He’s at the estate. Along with the rest of the town.” An expression of utter exhaustion crossed his face. “You’re welcome to come over to find him.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “The timing doesn’t seem … appropriate.”
“I could use an ally,” he said, touching his cut again. “You know how this town can be.”
I smiled. “That I do.”
“Besides, I’d rather not walk in alone with a head wound. Everyone will freak out. There will be a million questions.” His eyes darted to mine with a bit of a twinkle in them. “This way I can just blame it on you.”
“That … would probably work.”
“Oh,” he said, eyes widening. “I was kidding, but … well, great. Good. I walked, though,” he added, pointing in the direction of the road. “It was such a nice day. I forgot how far it is.”
“I’ve got my mom’s boat. Let’s go by water.”
* * *
It was an amazing day. Bright. Sunny. Postcard-perfect with all the colors of the trees reflected in the lake. We didn’t talk much during the fifteen minutes or so it took to zip across the water to get to the estate, but I wouldn’t have described it as awkward. The boat’s engine was loud, and given that Matthew’s father had just died, bubbly conversation didn’t seem quite right.
I steered the boat in the direction of the dock.
“Wow.” I leaned forward as though that would help me take even more in of the house. The lower basement level was made of stone, while the three levels above were constructed of white wood. There was even a turret at the end corner of the porch that traveled up the side of the manse. The estate somehow managed to look both rustic and moneyed at the same time. A hard combination to pull off. “This place is just full of beautiful. I’ve only ever seen it from a distance.”
“It’s why I became an architect,” Matthew said, but he sounded distracted. I caught him looking at the mass of cars parked on the lawn at the top of the hill. I watched his chest heave with a sigh.
Yup, there was Mrs. Carmichael’s florist van … no missing the bouquet airbrushed onto the side panel. Then there was the hearse. Mr. Thomson, director of the funeral home, drove that one. Oh, and there was Grady’s cruiser. There were a bunch of other cars too, but I didn’t recognize them.
Matthew tied off the boat to the long dock, and we walked up the slope of the lawn. We made it about halfway to the house when he said, “Well, at least, this is how my mother would have envisioned it.”
“Sorry?”
“All the people paying respects. She still tends to think of herself as Otter Lake royalty.”
“In fairness,” I said with a click of my tongue, “she kind of is.”
“Right. Well, in that case … you want a tour of the grounds from the crown prince?”
I looked down at the coffees I was holding. Mine was practically gone. Grady’s was definitely cold.
Noticing my gaze, Matthew said, “Sorry. You want to find Grady,” just as I said, “I’d love to.”
He chuckled.
“I mean, I do want to find Grady, but you gotta know everybody in Otter Lake wants to snoop around here.”
“Oh, believe me, I know,” he said, eyes widening. “I woke up today to see Mrs. Appleton’s head peeking around my bedroom door.”
“You did not!”
“Oh yeah, totally did,” he said. “Claimed my mother was looking for me, but … I think she may have been standing there a little longer than was decent for a Sunday school teacher.”
A Sunday school teacher that I was suddenly pretty jealous of. I shook my head. Again, where had that come from?
“You okay?” Matthew asked.
I coughed. “Totally fine. Not sure where my mind went there.” My eyes widened a touch then flashed to Matthew’s. “I didn’t mean … not that it went to your bedroom.”
“It’s okay,” Matthew said, laughing. “The thought of Mrs. Appleton and Sunday school makes a lot of people nervous.”
I nodded. Wow. A gentleman to boot. Some girl should really take this guy off the market so the rest of us could stop embarrassing ourselves.
“Come on,” he said with a jerk of his head. “I’ll just show you the boathouse, then we’ll go in.”
We walked across the grassy slant of the grounds toward the small building designed to stay in keeping with the manse.
Matthew stepped into the cool gloom of the structure, causing the floor to rock and creak. Signs of disrepair showed everywhere. Rotting planks. Broken lights. Floor sinking on the right side. But it was still beautiful. It had that romantic feeling old buildings sometimes have. You could practically hear the ghostly laughter of some flapper hooking up with a suave man in a white jacket.
“Sorry,” he said turning to face me. “I’m not sure what I was thinking. There’s not much to see in here. I still don’t think I’m ready to go inside.”
I nodded.
“My father’s death is hard enough, but it’s just … a lot being home,” he said, looking back up at me. “I mean, you know, my parents sent me to this fancy boarding school when I was a teenager, and when I was there, I was known as the kid from the Podunk town with the dwindling family fortune, but when I’m here, everybody just sees a Masterson, and thinks, I … I—”
“Wear golfing pants,” I blurted out. Why … why did I say that out loud? “I mean, I like them. They’re nice pants … really nice pants. They just stand out in—”
“Otter Lake.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Sometimes I wonder why I even allow myself to talk.”
He smiled again. “No, don’t worry. I get what you mean.” He looked down at his pants, furrowing his brow. “But golfing pants? Really? Huh. I was going for more outdoor adventurer.”
“That works too.” It totally didn’t. “I think I know what you mean, though,” I said, nodding probably too vigorously. “In Chicago … I’m invisible. And part of that is a relief, but it’s also … I don’t know, I feel disconnected. But when I come home,” I said, looking away, “I’m Boobsie Bloom, Summer’s daughter, the girl who parades around topless in rubber pants with beavers named Betsy.”
Matthew spluttered into a cough.
My gaze snapped back. “Are you all right?”
He waved his hand to indicate that he was, but he couldn’t stop coughing.
I took a step closer and grabbed his arm. “Don’t tell me you didn’t hear about what happened with me at the social?” I lowered my gaze to try to see his face, which was turned to the ground.
He shook his head no, still coughing.
“Here, drink this,” I said, passing him the cold coffee.
He tipped it back and took a sip.
“Better?”
He nodded and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. Did you say topless … in rubber pants with Betsy? The beaver?”
I waved another hand at him. “It was one time. At the Raspberry Social. It was no big deal.”
“I swear, I miss everything good that happens in this town,” he said, still smiling. “All I get are the deranged geese.”
Suddenly a shadow filled the doorway behind us.
A shadow wearing a sheriff’s hat.
“Grady?”