Chapter Seventeen

Jack took a seat at the end of the bar. Sawyer, wearing a Colorado Flurries ball cap, cut Jack a sidelong glance as he fixed a girly drink for a tall, leggy redhead. Sawyer shook his head with a laugh when the woman asked for his phone number. She walked away with a pout and her drink.

Sawyer lifted his chin. “Wanna beer?”

“Sure.” He could use a cold one after the day he had. Maybe a couple of them.

Sawyer popped the cap off a Twisted Pine Stout and slid the bottle across the bar. “Didn’t think you’d show. Figured you’d be busy making up with your wife.”

“Little hard to be making up with her when she won’t take my calls, don’t you think?” He took a long pull of the beer, letting the ice-cold brew assuage his thirst and his temper. He’d been tempted to stop by the apartment on his way to the Penalty Box from Jill’s, but it was late, and he was tired and on the far side of testy. Not the best combination for a heart-to-heart.

“Didn’t stop you the other day.”

“Yeah, and look how that turned out. She wants time. I’m giving it to her.”

“In my experience, giving a woman more time to think never works out how you hoped.”

“Just what I wanted to hear. Thanks, pal,” Jack muttered, his eyes going to the flat screen behind Sawyer when the eleven o’clock news came on. They were leading with this morning’s press conference. A photo of Jack staring at his open palm and Grace looking at him with a devastated expression on her face flashed across the screen. Jack cursed under his breath and took another pull on his beer.

A thirtysomething bald guy two barstools over shook an old-fashioned tumbler, ice cubes tinkling, at the TV. “Heard what went down at the bakery today, man. Gotta hurt when a wife pulls shit like that. You got my sympathies.”

Sawyer shot the customer a censorious look and aimed the channel changer at the TV, tuning in to the last minutes of play-off hockey.

The guy glanced to his left and grinned. “I bet she could help ease your pain.”

Maria flashed the man a smile and sidled up to Jack. “I’m surprised your wife let you out to play,” she said, tangling her fingers in the hair at his nape.

He moved her hand to the bar. “She’s not my keeper.”

Sawyer’s eyebrows disappeared under his ball cap before he turned to grab a bottle of scotch off the well-stocked glass shelf. Okay, so maybe that was harsh.

“Huh.” Maria reached for his beer. “Sure sounded that way to me. Never thought of you as the type of guy who lets his wife wear the pants in the family.” She lifted the bottle to her lips, holding his gaze as she took a deep swallow.

Sawyer uttered a low “Ouch” as he handed the bald guy another scotch and soda. Jack removed the bottle from Maria’s hands. “She doesn’t.”

“So you’re accepting my offer, then?” Maria asked, a challenge in her voice.

“Yeah, I am.” The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back. But if he was honest, he didn’t want to. His wife had used her savings to renovate the bakery and the apartment, and that didn’t sit well with Jack. Nor did Grace telling him what he could and couldn’t do.

Maria’s face lit up with a smile. “That’s the best news I’ve had all day. You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.” Her smile dimmed, a hint of pain in her dark eyes. “I don’t think I could’ve handled it by myself. It’s hard, you know, remembering…” She leaned in, his stomach roiling at the smell of wine and beer on her breath. She brushed her lips across his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Don’t make me regret my decision, Maria.”

“Of course not. Come on, let’s celebrate. A bottle of your best champagne, Sawyer. You do serve champagne, don’t you?” she asked when Sawyer crossed his arms, his gaze narrowed at Jack.

Taking note of her over-the-top happiness, the slight slurring of her words, the way her body swayed into his, Jack said, “I think you’ve had enough to drink, Maria.”

Her gaze softened, and she stroked his arm. “You always took such good care of me. If it weren’t for you…” She blinked back tears, reminding him how vulnerable she still was. Less than a month ago they’d been running for their lives.

“Amazed,” his and Grace’s song, came through the speakers. Maria tugged on his fingers. “Dance with me.”

Sawyer looked like he was about to say something, but a couple of women approached the bar, presenting their glasses for a refill.

“No.” Jack removed her hand. “This is what I’m talking about, Maria. I’m married. You have to remember that or I can’t work with you. You can’t pull shit like you did the other day.”

“What harm is there in a dance between friends?”

“Small town, remember?”

“Yeah, Jack, I remember everything,” she said softly and held his gaze. He wondered if he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Would she be able to put their past behind them? And how the hell was he supposed to make Grace understand why he needed to do this without coming off as a sexist jerk? He thought of the house on Sugar Plum Lane. Maybe if she knew he was thinking of buying it… No, he still wasn’t sure he could go through with it.

He returned his attention to Maria. “I remember how you felt about this town and the bakery,” she said, caressing his bicep. “You can’t be happy here. And life’s too short to waste a single minute of it being unhappy, Jack. You and I know that better than anyone in this place.” She gestured to the people in the bar. “Get rid of the bakery, and get out of this town before it sucks the life out of you.”

It felt like a steel band wrapped around his chest as her words hit too close for comfort. “You’re forgetting my wife and son. It doesn’t matter where I am—as long as I’m with them, I’ll be happy.” He said the words for Maria’s benefit. He wasn’t exactly in a happy place right now. Maybe because, thanks to Grace, he wasn’t living with her and little Jack.

The lyrics from “Amazed” drifted above the hum of conversation and laughter. They were as true now, Jack realized, as on his wedding day. He wanted Grace in his life forever. Somehow he had to make her remember what they’d once had. What they could have again.

Maria tilted her head to search his face, then nodded with a sad smile. “You deserve to be happy.”

A guy with dark, slicked-back hair called to Maria and waved her to his table. She patted Jack’s shoulder. “Let me know when you can start on the book. The sooner the better.”

“Sure, I’ll call you tomorrow to set up a time.”

As she turned to walk away, he saw her force a come-hither smile onto her lips.

“She sure knows how to push your buttons, doesn’t she?” Sawyer observed dryly, his eyes on the table where she took a seat.

“Okay, just for one minute, imagine yourself in my place. How would you react if your wife told you you couldn’t take a job that’s going to pay you a shitload of cash?”

“Is Grace my wife?” He grinned when Jack gave him the finger. “Kidding aside, I get where you’re coming from. But I understand why Grace reacted the way she did. It’s pretty obvious Maria has the hots for you. And, intentional or not, she ran your wife off the road a few minutes before she mentioned the book deal.”

An image of Grace in the pink helmet came to him, and Jack found himself smiling. She’d looked pretty damn cute.

“You’re thinking about Grace, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“You get a moony look on your face. Go home and work things out with your wife.”

Jack set his empty beer bottle on the bar. “I think I’ll do—”

“If she keeps that up, I’m going to have to put her in the box.”

“What are you…” Jack began, following the direction of Sawyer’s gaze. Maria was getting down and dirty on the dance floor with the guy who’d called her to his table.

“I have a feeling that show’s all for you, buddy. She’s trying to make you jealous.”

“She’s going to a lot of trouble for nothing, then.” He went to turn away when he saw the change come over Maria. Her dance partner had come up behind her and grabbed her by the hips, grinding against her. She froze, her mouth opening on a silent scream. The guy kept grinding, oblivious to her reaction.

Jack shot off the barstool and across the dance floor. Shoving the man back, he grabbed Maria, who swayed on her heels.

“What the fuck?” her dance partner said, reaching for Jack.

Sawyer stepped between them. “You don’t want to do that,” he advised the guy and took him by the arm. “Party’s over. Time to leave.”

“Maria?” Jack gave her a small shake, trying to snap her out of it. He ignored the curious stares of their attentive audience and wrapped an arm around her waist. She leaned heavily against him as he guided her off the dance floor. “Jesus, Maria, what—”

“I’m okay. Too much to drink, that’s all,” she whispered. “I need to leave.”

“Sit for a minute,” he said, settling her on a stool.

Sawyer came around the bar, took one look at Maria, and grabbed a mug off the counter.

She wouldn’t look at Jack. “Thanks,” she said, accepting the cup of coffee from Sawyer.

Jack shrugged at the question in Sawyer’s eyes. He didn’t know if she was okay or not. The color had returned to her face, and her hand no longer shook. Whatever happened out there, she was pulling it together. “Did you talk to Dr. Trainer?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“I’m okay.”

“What just happened to you out there doesn’t qualify as okay, Maria. Make an appointment with him tomorrow or I’m not working with you on the book.”

“I… All right, I’ll call him. Happy?” she said, her dark eyes flashing.

The knots in his shoulders relaxed at her reaction. Better anger than that vacant stare.

“I’ll give you a ride to the lodge,” Sawyer offered when she slid off the barstool.

“Thanks, but I’d rather walk. I need the fresh air.” She patted Jack’s chest. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Maria, I’m serious. I want—”

She waved him off as she walked away. “Don’t worry about me, Jack. I’ve got it covered.”

But she didn’t, and that’s what bothered him.

“What happened to her over there?” Sawyer asked.

Jack told him what he knew. But she’d been there a couple of months before he and his crew were taken captive, so he didn’t know the whole story.

Sawyer poured himself and Jack shots. Tossing his back, Sawyer wiped his mouth with his hand. “I get it now,” he said. “I get why you need to help her through this.”

“Yeah.” Jack rubbed his jaw. “I shouldn’t have let her go off on her own.” He could tell by the look on Sawyer’s face that he thought the same thing. Jack got off the stool. “I’ll try to catch up with her, walk her to the lodge, then head over to see Grace. I’ll pick up my bike on my way back.”

“Try the River Walk. Saw her down by the water when I went for a run this morning,” Sawyer said, waving him behind the bar. “It’ll be faster to go through the back.”

Ten minutes later, Jack reached the end of the planked walkway. From where he leaned against the rail, he took in the empty bench under the lamppost and the gazebo to the right of the weeping willow. No sign of Maria. And in her white dress, she’d be easy to spot. Jack figured it was a lost cause and headed for the shortcut to the park. As he dug his cell from his jeans pocket to call her, it rang.

He checked caller ID. Sawyer. “Hey, I can’t—”

“Jack, there’s a fire at the bakery.”

*     *     *

Pushing down the panic and fear before it closed off his airway, Jack raced toward the park. When he reached Main Street, he smelled the smoke and shoved past the small groups of people huddled in their pajamas on the sidewalk.

He thanked God when he caught sight of old man Murray standing in front of the lane with little Jack. Sirens blared in the distance as Jack jogged the last few yards toward them. His relief at seeing his son safe in the old man’s arms faded at the panic on Murray’s face.

“Grace, she’s in there. I tried to stop her. She hasn’t…” The old man began in a strangled voice.

Jack ran down the smoke-filled lane before Murray finished what he was about to say: She hasn’t come out. He blocked out the words, same as he did his son crying for his mother.

“Grace,” Jack yelled, as he rounded the side of the building. The heat of the fire and smoke burned his eyes even before he flung open the back door. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said at the sight of his wife, standing in one of his T-shirts and a pair of pink slippers, with a fire extinguisher in her hand.

“I’m trying to save the bakery. Help me, I can’t get this to work.” She pushed her matted hair from her soot-covered face, shoving the extinguisher at him. With a quick visual sweep, he took in the flames that engulfed the stove and licked across the ceiling, spreading to the counter. “We’re getting out of here. Now,” he said as he grabbed her hand. “The fire department’s on the way.”

“It’ll be too late. I…” She let out a small shriek and ducked at the sound of several loud pops. Flames shot up from the garbage can on the opposite wall.

Sawyer came through the door. “Holy hell.”

Jack tossed the extinguisher to him and grabbed Grace around the waist. “No, let me go,” she said, pushing his hands away.

“Stop it, Grace,” he said, dragging her toward the door. She fought him every inch of the way, and damned if she wasn’t a lot stronger than he’d given her credit for. He turned, bent down, and threw her over his shoulder.

“Put me down.” She pounded his back as he jogged up the lane after Sawyer. “You don’t care if it burns to the ground, do you?”

“No, I don’t. The only thing I care about is you,” he said, setting her in front of him once they were a safe distance from the building. He closed his hands over her shoulders and gave her a small shake. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“That I could put the fire out before it destroys everything.” She flung her arm at the extinguisher Sawyer carried. “And I would have if I could’ve made that thing work.”

“I’ll get Grace a blanket,” Sawyer said.

Jack nodded and returned his attention to his wife. “The fire’s out of control.” And he was about to lose his. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“The lad’s right,” Patrick Murray said as he limped toward them. “That was a damn fool thing you did running in there like that.”

“You don’t understand. None of you understand.” She swiped at her eyes and reached for little Jack.

“Mama owie,” he whimpered, touching her cheek.

“I’m all right, baby,” she responded with a forced smile.

She was, and some of the fear that had been fueling Jack’s frustration and anger diminished. Siren screaming, the fire truck turned onto Main Street. He put his arm around Grace, drawing her close. “Look, they’re here now. Everything’s going to be all right,” he said, as the truck pulled up to the curb, the flashing lights illuminating the lane and Grace’s tear-streaked face.

“No, it won’t,” she said, but the fight went out of her. She sagged against him, turning her head to watch the black smoke billowing from the bakery, the static pop and hiss of the flames audible from where they stood.

The firefighters jumped out of the truck and began attaching the hose to the hydrant. Gage, who’d been handling crowd control across the street, signaled for his deputy to take over and jogged toward them. “Let’s move down the sidewalk a ways,” he suggested, giving Grace’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You okay?”

“No.” She gave a brittle laugh. “I’m not okay, Gage. Everything I worked for, everything I own, is going up in flames.”

Before Gage could respond, Jack intervened. “We were in there a couple of minutes ago, princess, and the fire was contained in the kitchen.” He hoped it still was because it’d been moving terrifyingly fast. But he had to say something positive before she lost it. “The apartment will be fine.”

Sawyer caught the last of the conversation as he rejoined them, draping a blanket over Grace’s shoulders. “Jack’s right. The building’s up to code. Fire walls will do their job.”

“Do you have any idea how it started, Grace?” Gage asked.

She stroked their son’s head while staring at the bakery. “Little Jack got out of his crib. When I went to put him back to bed, I smelled smoke. The window was open.”

Gage frowned. “Smoke detector didn’t go off?”

“No. I don’t think so. I didn’t remember hearing it when I opened the door. But maybe I was so panicked—”

“I didn’t hear it, either,” Jack said, taking his son from Grace. “We okay on Murray’s porch? Grace needs to sit down.”

Gage glanced at two firefighters who rounded the side of the building and nodded. “Should be safe enough.” He narrowed his eyes at Madison, Nell, and Mrs. Tate, who hurried down the sidewalk toward them as Jack settled Grace on the porch steps. “I thought I told the three of you to stay put,” Gage said.

The women ignored him and moved in to fuss over Grace. “You come with Auntie Nell,” Nell said, taking his son from Jack. “We’ll see if Patrick has a treat for you and make some tea for your mommy.”

“Me want cake.”

“Don’t have cake, but I’ve got those cookies he likes. And forget about the tea, what Gracie needs is a good stiff drink. So do I,” Patrick said as he followed Nell and Mrs. Tate into the house.

“Sheriff.” A tall man in uniform waved Gage over.

Assuming he had news about the fire, Jack, along with Sawyer, followed Gage to the edge of the lane. Once they’d been introduced to the deputy chief, Jack asked how the fire had started.

“It looks like a burner on the stove hadn’t been shut off and an apron or something had been left too close on the counter. Couple of aerosol cans were left out, too. With the heat…” The man shrugged. “It doesn’t take much.”

Intent on the man’s answer, Jack didn’t realize Grace had joined them until he heard her say, “No, that’s not right. I didn’t leave the stove on, and I’d never leave anything out on the counters.”

“Grace, you were tired. Accidents happen. It wasn’t your…”

“It doesn’t matter how tired I am, Jack. I didn’t leave the stove on, and there was nothing on the counters.”

“Well, ma’am, it looks like you did. But a fire inspector will be doing an investigation. He’ll be able to tell you more.” When Jack asked the reason behind an investigation, the man said, “There’s been an uptick in the number of kitchen fires purposely set by their owners. Over the last year, it’s become standard procedure.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I’d never…” she began, then looked at Jack.

“Oh, come on. You can’t seriously believe I’d do something like this.” He struggled to keep his voice low in case she wasn’t implying what he thought she was. Not to mention Gage and the deputy fire chief were standing there when his wife accused him of arson.

“Someone left the stove on, and it wasn’t me. You haven’t exactly kept your opinion of the bakery to yourself, Jack.”

She did think he’d done it. At least from the expressions on the men’s faces, they didn’t. Jack struggled to not lose his cool. Seeing the desperation and defeat in Grace’s red-rimmed eyes made it easier. “You’re upset, so I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” He took her by the shoulders. “You’re human, Grace. You make mistakes just like the rest of us. You were tired and forgot to turn off the damn stove. It’ll be ruled the accident that it was, and we’ll rebuild.”

“Jack’s right, Grace. We’ll all help out. You’ll be up and running in no time,” Sawyer said. Madison assured her that Gage would do all that he could to fast-track the insurance claim, despite her husband giving her a zip-it look.

Maria ran across the road. “Jack”—she touched his shoulder—“are you all right? What happened?”

“You,” Grace said, pointing a trembling finger at Maria. “It was you. You did this.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, Jack thought, dragging a hand down his face.

“What… what did I do?” Maria looked from Grace to Jack.

“Nothing, Maria. Grace is upset and—”

“Don’t patronize me, Jackson Flaherty. I know what I saw, and I saw her standing across the street staring at the bakery when I ran to Patrick’s with little Jack.”

Murray, who’d been sitting on his porch with a beer, came down the steps. “It’s true. I saw her, too. Seemed odd the way she stood there staring at the place.”

Jack shared a look with Sawyer. He could think of a couple of reasons Maria might’ve been staring at the bakery, most of which he wouldn’t want Grace to hear. But would Maria go as far as setting the place on fire? No way.

“You see, it’s not just me. And she tried to run over me today, too. Arrest her, Gage.”

“Hold it, why am I only hearing about this now?” Madison said, narrowing her gaze at Maria before turning back to Grace.

“I did not try to run you over. I didn’t see you.”

Grace snorted. “Tell that to someone who believes you.” She looked at Jack. “Oh, right, you did.”

“You believed her, too. You accepted her apology.”

“Not anymore, I don’t. Not after this.” She flung her hand at the bakery.

Gage rubbed the back of his neck. “Grace, honey, this wasn’t arson. It was an accident.”

“Why won’t any of you listen to me? Someone did this on purpose—”

With her gaze fixated on the smoldering building, Maria rubbed her ring finger with her thumb. “You think someone set fire to the bakery?”

“I know someone did. Why were you here? What were you doing?”

“I-I was walking back to the lodge. I wasn’t doing anything.” Her gaze flickered across the street, then back to the building.

“Did you see anything out of the ordinary?” Gage asked.

“No.” Maria averted her gaze. “If there’s nothing else, I have to get going.”

“That’s fine. You can go,” Gage said.

“I’m glad no one was hurt. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Jack,” she said and headed off in the opposite direction.

“That’s it? You’re just going to let her go?” Grace’s temper flared as she aimed an infuriated look at Gage. “It’s because of her that this happened. I’ve had threats phoned in against me, orders canceled, and my cakes destroyed. And if you won’t do anything about it, Gage, I will. I am going to find out who did this.”

“Look at me.” Jack cupped Grace’s face with his hands. “You’re exhausted, and you’ve had more than your share of crap to deal with today. But you need to calm down, princess, and think this through.” She was breathing like she’d run a hundred-yard dash in two seconds flat. Drawing her into his arms, he stroked her back while directing his question to the deputy fire chief, whose gaze had bounced from one accused to the next with his mouth agape. “Can we stay in the apartment tonight?”

“No, but you should be good to go back in tomorrow. I’d better get over there.”

“I’ll join you. And you,” Gage said, taking his wife by the arm, “are going home. Say good night.”

“Good night,” Madison said and hugged Grace. “We’ll talk in the morning. And don’t worry about the Pines. I’ll call them.”

“No, we can’t afford to lose that contract, especially now. I…” Her gaze flitted nervously from Jack then back to Madison. “I made two more cakes. They’re in our refrigerator upstairs.”

Once Madison and Gage left, Jack nudged Grace’s chin up. “You’ll stay with me at Jill’s tonight, and we’ll—”

“After what she pulled today? I don’t think so. I’ll stay with Patrick, if that’s all right?” she said to the old man.

Murray patted her arm. “I’ll get your bed made up.” He looked like she’d just made his day. Now Jack was going to ruin it. Because after what had just happened, he had no intention of spending another night apart from his family.

“You got room for me?” Jack asked.

The old man looked at Grace. She gave him a small nod. “I suppose,” Murray said, then headed for the house.

“Go with him. Grab a hot shower, and I’ll be in in a minute.” When she looked set to refuse, Jack said, “There’s nothing more you can do. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. And if you still believe that it wasn’t an accident in the morning, I’ll help you look into it.”

She blinked. “You will?”

“Yeah, I will.”

Giving him a grateful smile, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

She touched Sawyer’s arm as she went to walk away. “Night, Sawyer.”

“Night, Grace.” Together they watched her head to the house, then turned as the firefighters regained their attention. “So,” Sawyer said, “was it just me, or was there something off about Maria’s reaction?”

“There was, but I think it had more to do with what happened at the bar.”

“I don’t know. What if she—”

“What? Had a mental break and burned down the bakery without knowing what she was doing?”

“Well, yeah. It’s possible, isn’t it? After what she said at the bar, maybe she’d think she was doing you a favor.”

“Keep those kind of theories to yourself, will you? My wife doesn’t need any encouragement.”

“So you were just humoring her?”

“Yeah. There’s nothing to look into. It was an accident. You heard her. She had to deal with the fallout from the press conference and then spent half the night making those damn sugar plum cakes. No wonder she forgot to turn off the stove. She’s wearing herself out trying to make a go of the bakery. Libby couldn’t do it. I don’t know why Grace thinks she can.” Staring at the building, he absently rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t need his internal warning system to tell him the place was dangerous. “Maybe we shouldn’t rebuild. Maybe we should just—”

From behind them came a soft, feminine gasp. Sawyer gave him a you’re-screwed look before Jack turned to face his wife.