“What were the cops doing here this morning? Are you going to work with them again?”
Summer looked up from the pot roast she’d just pulled out of the oven and met Faith’s intense gaze. They’d never talked in-depth about the work she’d done for law enforcement in Santa Cruz, but they had talked about her gift, and Faith was a smart girl, which meant she’d likely figured out the gist. “I saw something the other day and I called in a tip. They were following up to make sure they had all the information they needed. And they weren’t cops. Owen’s a prosecutor and Kira is the investigator assigned to work with her.”
“Oh yeah, I remember. Owen’s the tall, dreamy one. Sharp dresser.”
It was like Faith was reading her mind. Surprise. “I suppose. I was too busy burning the rest of the French toast to notice.”
“She was nice. Talked to me like a person, not a kid.”
“Of course she did. Kids are people too.”
“You know that, and I know that, but other people not so much.”
“What is it that we know?” Nan asked as she walked into the room.
“Nothing,” Summer said at the same moment Faith blurted out, “We’re talking about the dreamy lawyer who came to see Mom this morning.”
“The tall one? Definitely dreamy. Sharp dresser too.”
Faith stuck her tongue out at Summer. “See!”
Summer shook her head. “You two are hilarious.” She poured off some liquid from the roast into a frying pan and stirred in some flour. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Faith, go ahead and set the table, please.”
Summer watched her pretend-huff off toward the cabinets and pulled down three plates. Back in Santa Cruz, more often than not, they would load their dinner onto TV trays and eat in the living room, but Nan insisted they take their meals together at the table, and Summer could tell Faith liked the tradition no matter how much she might protest.
She’d learned to like it too. No TV, no phones, no connecting to the outside world in any way for at least one hour while they shared a meal and real conversation—the kind that happened when they were looking at each other instead of a screen. The routine had helped to calm her thoughts at the end of a long day of temp work or looking for a job, and she’d felt more peaceful since the move because of it. Until Leo Joule had popped into her head with his near-death assault.
She’d combed the news and finally found a picture of Joule. He was an important witness in the murder case of Commissioner Adams’s wife, and he was definitely the man she’d seen at the courthouse after she’d talked to Owen. Summer hadn’t stopped there. She’d spent the afternoon scouring the internet for information about the murder of Carrie Adams. Owen had recently been assigned to head the prosecution team on the case, and the trial was set to start in two weeks. Everyone predicted the defendant would go to prison for the rest of his life. Summer was a little surprised they weren’t seeking the death penalty, but secretly she was glad. No matter what someone was accused of, the system could be fallible, and when a life was at stake, there should be no margin of error. She was well acquainted with what could happen when mistakes were made and lives hung in the balance. Thank goodness she didn’t have to deal with that kind of pressure anymore. She’d gladly trade temp work for life-and-death decisions, any day of the week.
“Mom, you’re stirring the gravy to death. People are starving here.”
She looked up to see Faith and Nan sitting at the perfectly set table, loaded with all the food she’d prepared, sans gravy. “Sorry. Be right there.”
“Use the fancy gravy boat,” Nan called out. “This is a pretty fancy meal for a weeknight. It’s in the cabinet over the sink.”
Summer dutifully complied and joined them at the table.
“This is pretty special,” Faith said. “What’s the occasion, Mom?”
Before she could answer, the doorbell rang. Faith wagged a finger. “No interruptions during dinner. I didn’t make the rules.”
Summer opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak, the bell rang again. “I’ll get it. P.S. It’s not my fault your great-grandmother lives in the kind of neighborhood where people drop by.” She grinned. “Heathens.”
When she reached the door, she peeked through the viewer and her breath caught when she spotted Owen Lassiter pacing on the porch. Before she could give it another thought, she swung open the door. “Did you not get all your digs in this morning or do you make a hobby out of showing up on people’s doorsteps unannounced?”
Owen grimaced and she ducked her head in a move that appeared to convey humility, surprising considering her courtroom swagger. She held up her phone. “I tried calling, but no one answered and your voice mail is full. May I come in?”
Summer hesitated a moment. Owen did look somewhat contrite in addition to dashing, and the connection she’d felt earlier was still strong. She wondered what would happen if she touched Owen’s arm. Would her mind light up with images or would she simply feel the warmth that Owen was really, really good at hiding? “Actually, if I invited you in, I’d be breaking the rules, and—”
“Oh, so you do believe in rules,” Owen said with a grin. “Your rogue nature must be confined to jury duty.”
“Hey, that’s not fair.” Summer stared at Owen’s smile, marveling at the way it went all the way to her eyes, but before she could say more, Faith’s voice bellowed from within the house.
“Mom, who is it? Dinner’s getting cold.”
She squeezed her forehead. “I’m trying to remember if I blurted out my every thought when I was twelve.”
Owen backed away. “I interrupted your dinner. Trust me, I’m not usually this rude. You have my number. I’d really appreciate it if you would give me a call. I have something very important to ask you.”
“Wait.” Summer paused for a moment, unsure what else to say, but sure she didn’t want Owen to dash off. She was getting a completely different vibe off this version of her. More…human? She was saved from having to figure out words when Faith appeared at her side.
Faith waved a hand and grinned. “Hi, Owen.”
Owen grinned again. “Hi, Faith.” She waved a hand. “Sorry I interrupted your dinner.”
Faith lit up at the attention. “Mom made pot roast.”
“I can smell it from here.” Owen sniffed the air. “It smells amazing.”
Faith nodded eagerly. “It looks delicious and there’s a ton. Have you eaten?”
She switched her attention to Summer, who hid her discomfort behind a smile, while blinking at Faith in an attempt to signal her to shut up. If reading minds was really genetic, then her daughter had either been switched at birth or seriously needed to hone her skills.
“Uh, well…”
Summer looked at Owen, who was visibly uncomfortable at being put on the spot, and in that moment, she glimpsed the vulnerability she’d felt when she’d touched Owen’s arm at the courthouse. Before she could change her mind, she blurted out, “You should join us. There’s plenty of food, and I’m a decent cook.”
“Nan says it’s super fancy for a school night,” Faith added.
“It’s not all that fancy,” Summer said.
Owen raised her hands. “Who needs fancy?”
Summer gestured at Owen’s outfit. “Said the fancy dresser.”
Owen grinned. “You like the way I dress.”
The swagger was back, and Summer recognized it for the cover it was. But what was Owen trying to hide? She shook her head. It wasn’t her job to analyze Owen. She was here on business. Okay, so they were about to share a meal, but it was a business dinner, the kind that happened all the time where bread was broken and deals were struck and everyone walked away with something they wanted. So, why did she feel like only one of them was going to walk away happy?
✥ ✥ ✥
Owen followed Summer into the house, trying her best to take in the surroundings, but Faith was at her side delivering a steady stream of questions.
“Mom says you’re a prosecutor. That means you go to trial a lot, right? What’s the hardest case you’ve ever worked on? Do you ever get scared that the people you send to jail are going to come get you when they get out?”
“Faith, cool it,” Summer said. “Owen isn’t here for you to interview.”
“What if she doesn’t mind?” Faith asked.
“I don’t mind,” Owen said at the same time. “Seriously.”
“At least let her eat first.” Summer stopped when they arrived at the kitchen where Nan was standing near the entry. “Go ahead and get back in your seat, Nan. I’m sure you heard every word.”
Nan huffed as she sat down. “Not every word, but I did hear enough to tell me we needed another place setting.” She pointed at the extra spot at the table. “Hi, Owen, it’s nice to see you again.”
“Hi, Mrs.…?”
Nan stuck out her hand. “Harvey, Helen Harvey.”
“Hi, Mrs. Harvey. It’s nice to see you too.”
“Don’t call me Mrs. It makes me irritable. Call me Nan.” Nan leaned over to Summer. “She’s very polite.”
“And I bet she has decent hearing too,” Summer said, flashing a smile at Owen. “How about we try to act like a normal family while we eat?”
“As if.” Nan handed the platter of pot roast to Owen and pointed at a large section. “Take that. You look like someone who’s been eating whatever they could fish out of a vending machine. A real meal would do you good. Have some extra carrots too. Summer is a wonderful cook.”
“I can tell,” Owen said as she took the piece of pot roast and more carrots than she would probably eat in an effort to appease Nan, who was staring her down like a drill sergeant. “I must admit, I’ve been working a lot lately and haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a while.”
“Is there someone at home who cooks for you?”
“Nan!” Summer shook her head. “In case you didn’t hear when you had your ear pressed against the wall, Owen is here on business. Try to have a few boundaries, please.”
“I don’t mind the questions,” Owen said. “I spend most of my time asking them, so it’s fun to get to answer once in a while.” She turned back to Nan. “Occasionally, I use a service to have prepared meals cooked to order and sent over so I can store them in my freezer. Does that count?”
“Hmm,” Nan said, tapping the table with her fingers like she was trying to think of another question to ask.
“It doesn’t count,” Summer said. “Not for what she’s thinking. Would you like something to drink? Sorry, I’m usually a much better hostess. We’ve got iced tea, soda, water. I might be able to rustle up some wine from Nan’s not-so-secret stash.”
“Tea would be great. And it wasn’t like I gave you any warning for my visit,” Owen said, stabbing a forkful of the pot roast. The tender meat practically melted in her mouth. “And for the record, I didn’t expect you to roll out the red carpet when I arrived, but I’m glad you did because this is the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”
Summer blushed slightly at the compliment. “Thanks. I’m between jobs and I’ve been watching a lot of cooking shows.”
They spent the next half hour digging into dinner and discussing innocuous subjects like the weather and the upcoming state fair. Owen devoured her food and barely managed to resist Nan’s efforts to fill her plate a second time. She pushed her plate away. “That was amazing, but I’m full.” She mentally cast about for a way to broach the subject of her visit, but Faith saved her from the dilemma.
“What did you want to ask my mom?”
Owen looked at Summer who gave her a slight nod. “I, we, need your mom’s help on a case. She already helped me some this morning, but I could use her expertise again. I understand she used to work with law enforcement agencies where you used to live.”
“Yes, she did,” Faith said. “She was good at it. She helped them solve all but one case.”
Owen noted the odd coincidence that Summer had had exactly as many losses as her. Was it possible Mia had been on to something, forcing her to find a way to involve Summer in this case? “Only one case unsolved is a pretty amazing accomplishment,” Owen said, conscious of the irony since she saw her one loss as a huge blemish on her own record. She glanced at Summer, whose expression was now completely devoid of affect. “Did I say something wrong?”
Faith nodded. “She doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“Faith, do me a favor and go out to the garage and get the ice cream out of the freezer.”
Faith let out a big sigh and stood. “You could just say, ‘Hey, I need a minute to talk to Owen in private.’”
“True, but then you wouldn’t be able to tell me how smart you are for figuring out what I really meant.”
“Fine, but I don’t think it’s fair that Nan gets to stay.”
“Nan’s going to help you.” Summer made a shooing motion and Faith trudged out of the room with Nan close behind. Once they were out of sight, Summer turned to Owen. “Why are you really here?”
Surprised at the question, Owen set down her fork and crossed her hands. “I told you. We need your help on a case.”
“I find that hard to believe since you don’t believe in my abilities. Not to mention the fact you think that I—how did you put it? I have no respect for the rule of law.”
Owen should’ve known better than to argue with Summer about the Jex case. It was a rookie mistake, but she’d had no idea at the time she’d be charged with asking Summer for a favor soon after. She had some sucking up to do. “Clearly, I was wrong. I’ve read about your work with the Santa Cruz DA and the police and sheriff’s office out there. They all have only good things to say about you and the work you did with them.”
Summer’s eyes narrowed a bit like she was skeptical. “What exactly do you want?”
Owen summoned all the sincerity she could muster, praying Summer wouldn’t be able to read the disbelief below the surface. “I assume you’ve heard about the murder of Commissioner Adams’s wife?” At Summer’s nod, she continued. “It’s set for trial in two weeks. We’d like to bring you on board to consult with us. Meet with witnesses for pretrial prep, sit through jury selection and the trial and give us your opinions on how we’re doing and your impressions of the defense and the evidence represented. We will pay you for your time.”
“And if you don’t agree with what I have to say?”
“Well, as the lead prosecutor on the case, I’ll have the final say, but I promise I’ll consider any advice you have to offer.” Owen smiled to punctuate her remarks and hopefully appear to be the kind of lawyer open to other people’s opinions, but the truth was if there was a showdown, she wasn’t about to take the advice of a woo-woo medium over her own well-honed litigation skills no matter what Mia wanted.
“Right.” Summer looked skeptical.
“You don’t believe me.”
“Now look who’s a mind reader? No, I do not, but it doesn’t matter what I believe. I don’t do that kind of work anymore.”
“Why not?” Owen was genuinely curious.
“I just don’t. That was another life, another place, another time. I’m very busy now. Too busy to work with you even if I wanted to, which I do not. I’m sorry you wasted your time coming by.”
Owen wanted to argue the point, use her powers of persuasion to convince Summer to divulge the reason behind her reluctance, but Summer’s frown and obvious agitation held her back. Instead she pointed at her empty plate and attempted some levity. “No need to apologize. This may be the most delicious meal I’ve ever had.”
The easy smile returned to Summer’s face. “Well, I’m not sure that’s saying much since Nan is convinced you never eat. You should wear a few extra layers next time you see her to get her to lay off the ‘You’re so skinny, you need to eat more’ routine.” Summer’s hand flew to her mouth. “Not to imply you’re going to see her again. Wait, that sounded bad. Of course, you can see her anytime you want. I only meant it’s not likely, you know, since…”
As if on cue, Nan and Faith appeared in the doorway. Faith was holding a baking pan and Nan was holding a bucket of Blue Bell vanilla ice cream. “Dessert, anyone?” Nan asked, brandishing a scoop. “Summer made blackberry cobbler.”
Owen considered her options. She wasn’t going to get what she’d come for, and as much as she’d enjoyed the meal and the company, sticking around for more felt disingenuous in a way she couldn’t quite articulate. She pushed her chair back and set her napkin on the table. “I should probably go.”
“Please don’t go,” Faith said. “I helped make the cobbler. Well, I helped pick the blackberries, which I think counts as helping. If you leave, we won’t have an independent third-party opinion about whether it’s good or not.”
“Not to mention, you don’t look like you allow yourself to eat dessert ever,” Nan said, “and that’s a damn shame.”
Owen laughed and glanced at Summer, who was shaking her head in surrender. “You really should stay for dessert,” Summer said. “It’s a new recipe, so I can’t vouch for how good it is, but an unbiased opinion would be welcome.”
Owen considered the offer carefully. If she stayed, she could use the time to try to convince Summer to change her mind. She’d be doing her job, doing exactly what Mia wanted her to do, but Summer hadn’t been waffling when she said she wasn’t interested. No, she had been quite firm on the subject. If Owen had really wanted her help on the case, a little resistance wouldn’t stop her, but she had absolutely no desire to add another person to the team, especially one who had nothing to contribute except unfiltered feelings, source unknown. “It’s tempting, but I really do need to go.” She pushed in her chair and pointed at her plate. “Should I put this in the sink?”
“Guests don’t clean,” Faith said. “That’s what Mom says anyway.”
“It’s true,” Summer said. “It’s a rule. Faith, why don’t you say good-bye to Owen and then I’ll walk her to the door?”
Owen was surprised as everyone else appeared to be that Summer would see her out. She shook Faith’s hand, thanked Nan for her hospitality, and followed Summer to the door. “Thank you. Dinner was delicious.”
“You’re welcome,” Summer said. “And I truly am sorry I can’t help you out.”
“My boss will be very disappointed,” Owen said. And I’m sorry I won’t have an excuse to see you again. “She was looking forward to meeting you.”
Summer looked down. “That’s not my life anymore.”
Owen wanted to ask why, not as a way to find leverage to get Summer to work on the Adams case, but because she genuinely wanted to know more about the source of the pain in Summer’s eyes when she mentioned her past. But as much as she’d enjoyed an evening spent pretending to be part of Summer’s happy little family, coming here had been a job, and now she needed to report back to her boss that her mission had been unsuccessful. She might have shown up hoping Summer would turn her down, but she was leaving with an unusual feeling of regret, and as she looked one more time into Summer’s eyes, she wondered if Summer knew exactly what she was thinking.