Читать книгу Alaskan Hideaway - Beth Carpenter - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

MAC SAT IN his living room, holding his knife in one hand and a piece of birch in the other, but he wasn’t carving. Instead, he stared at the flames dancing behind the glass window of the woodstove. Was he missing something? Ursula’s reaction when she handed him the key didn’t quite fit. She’d looked...hurt.

He shrugged. Of course she did. She was an expert manipulator. She knew exactly what buttons to push, what expressions to adopt. He’d learned a few things in the little over half a century he’d been on earth, much of it from sad experience. Fame and money attracted con artists and moochers like ants to a picnic. He seldom even wasted the energy resenting them, just wrote it off as an occupational hazard.

So why was he so disappointed in Ursula? Maybe it was because she’d seemed real. She was attractive, but not in an obvious way. Just classic bone structure, healthy skin and an infectious smile. He liked her hair, the way she’d left in the natural silver, short but still feminine. She was a good listener. And she seemed to care. Of course, that was stock in trade for people like her. Listen, learn and take advantage.

Blossom rose from her bed and stretched, head low over her front paws, tail poking into the air. She padded into the kitchen and took a long and sloppy drink from her bowl. Her nails clicked across the vinyl floor into the laundry room beyond, where she made a scratching noise.

Mac stood and followed her without bothering to slip on his shoes, wondering why she didn’t scratch on the front door. When he got to the kitchen, enough light filtered into the laundry room to see her on her back legs, pawing at the back door latch. What was she up to?

He’d noticed the levers on the doors looked much more modern than the rest of the house. Probably easier for arthritic hands to operate than the original doorknobs. Within a minute, Blossom had managed to catch the lever with her paw and pull it down. The door swung open, and she ran outside. When the heck did she learn to do that?

He flipped on a light and went to examine the door. Before he reached it, a gust of wind banged it shut. Just as he thought, the latch was turned to the lock position. What he hadn’t realized was the inside lever still operated. He reached outside without letting the door shut and tried it. Sure enough, from the outside, it was locked.

Blossom pranced to the door, head held high. Mac let her inside and locked the door behind her, this time using the deadbolt. He hadn’t bothered with the deadbolts before, since he didn’t have a key, but that was before he realized he had a canine Houdini on his hands. Tomorrow, he’d call a locksmith. And fix that hole in the fence.

He followed Blossom into the living room. “You have some ’splaining to do, young lady.”

She wagged her tail, reminding him of Andi when she was five and had just learned to tie her own shoelaces. Blossom seemed so pleased with herself, it was almost a shame he had to shut down her new game.

And it was an even bigger shame he’d jumped to conclusions. There wasn’t much he hated more than the taste of crow, but he was going to have to eat a big helping.

* * *

“THERE’S ANOTHER EXTENSION cord in the hall closet if you need it.” Ursula held a folding table steady while her friend Catherine folded out the legs.

“Thanks. I’m sure someone will need it. You’d think after doing this so many times, we’d have it down, but someone always forgets something.” Catherine grabbed the far end of the table and together they set it in place. “There. That’s the last one.”

Ursula checked her watch. Four o’clock. Some of the quilters would no doubt take off work early on a Friday afternoon. “They’ll be arriving soon. I’ve got a big batch of brownies in the kitchen.”

“The girls will love that.” The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it. It’s probably our guest speaker. She’s going to talk about wool appliqué.”

“Okay. I’ll put those brownies on a platter.” Ursula started for the kitchen.

Catherine opened the door. “Well, hello there, beautiful,” she crooned in her dog-and-baby voice. Ursula was betting dog. Possibly a black-and-white pit bull.

She paused at the kitchen door listening to the murmur of voices. She wasn’t sure if she wanted it to be Mac or not. She thought they’d made friends, but she’d sensed a definite hostility when he picked up Blossom yesterday. That hint of cowboy drawl was gone, and he was back to his formal voice. She couldn’t imagine what she’d done to upset him, after helping him with his eagle, picking up wire to fix his fence and rescuing his dog from traffic. Maybe he was embarrassed about the dog getting out. Or maybe he was just moody.

Whatever his reasons, she had better things to do with her time than spend it with a bad-tempered hermit. She’d be better off staying far away from him. And yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Ursula sighed. Who was she kidding? She’d seen his pain. She could no more walk away from him than she could have left the eagle in the fence to die. And just like with the eagle, if she wasn’t careful, she was going to get hurt.

“Ursula. Your friend Mac is here to see you.” The lilt in her voice made it clear Catherine would be demanding details later. Ursula crossed to the door.

Mac stood on the porch, holding what looked like the local grocer’s entire stock of mixed flowers. “Hi. Do you have a minute to talk?”

“I’ll just go see about those brownies,” Catherine murmured. “Come on, Blossom. I’ll bet we could find you a dog biscuit.”

“Come in.” Ursula stepped back from the door to allow Mac inside.

He handed her the cellophane-wrapped bundles. “For you.”

Ursula gathered the three, no, four bouquets in her arms. “Thank you, but why are you bringing me flowers?”

“I want to apologize.” Actually, from the pained expression on his face, the last thing he wanted was to apologize, but he was doing it anyway. This should be good.

“Come with me.” Ursula led him through the maze of tables and power cords littering the living room.

“What’s going on?”

“A quilt retreat. Twice a year, Catherine and a dozen or so of her friends reserve the whole inn and spend the weekend sewing. It’s a lot of fun.”

“Do you quilt?”

“I dabble, but I’m not a serious quilter like these ladies. My job is to keep everyone fed and happy.” Ursula gestured for him to sit on the couch near the fireplace and laid the flowers in a basket on the coffee table. She sat in a chair directly across from him and leaned forward. “Okay, shoot.”

“Shoot what?”

“The apology. You said you wanted to apologize. I’m ready.”

He chuckled. “You’re not making this easy.”

“Well, I’m curious exactly what you’re apologizing for. Blocking access to the ski trails without giving me notice? Siccing your dog on me? Threatening to have me arrested for trespassing? If it involves this many flowers, it must be serious.”

“Actually, none of those things. Well, all those things, but they’re not the main reason I’m here.” He took a long breath. “I was rude to you yesterday because I blamed you for something of which I’ve since learned you were innocent.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Say again?”

“Yesterday. When I found your note that you had the dog.” He explained, and as he talked, Ursula started to smile. By the time he’d finished, she was laughing out loud.

“You really thought I’d sneaked into your house and kidnapped your dog just so I could bug you about the right-of-way.” She shook her head. “You have some imagination.”

“Occupational hazard, I suppose.”

“What occupation is that?”

“I’m a writer.”

“Are you? That’s exciting. What do you write?”

“Thrillers.”

“Ah. I don’t read a lot of those. Too scary. I would have thought growing up on a ranch, you’d write Westerns.”

Mac shook his head. “No. Growing up on a ranch means I know too much to write pretty little stories about cowboys.”

“That bad?”

“No.” He paused and just for a moment his gaze went past her toward some remembered place. “Rather wonderful actually. It was losing the ranch that was hard. My dad never really got over it. He died young. They both did.” He gave a sudden smile. “But I didn’t come to talk about myself. I came to say I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology.”

“Good. Well then, if I can find my dog, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.”

“I’ll get her.” She gathered up the bouquets before starting for the kitchen. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”

“I’m glad you like them. Thank you for delivering the eagle and picking up the fencing wire. And for your patience.”

“You’re welcome. See you around.” Before she could get to the kitchen, the door opened and Blossom ran past her to Mac.

Catherine followed, carrying a tray. “Mac, take one of these brownies before you go. Ursula made them. She’s a fantastic cook.”

“Yes, I know.” Mac nodded before accepting a brownie and taking his leave.

Ursula carried the flowers into the kitchen. She was on a step stool, retrieving vases from the highest shelves when Catherine bustled in. “So what was that all about?”

Ursula grabbed a ceramic jar and set it on the counter before answering. “You mean you weren’t standing in the kitchen with your ear pressed against the door?”

“I was but he didn’t talk loud enough. Spill. Why are good-looking men bringing you bucket loads of flowers?”

Ursula shrugged. “It was one man and who knows why he does what he does?”

“So you admit he’s good-looking.”

“He is. He’s also my new neighbor.”

“Maybe he wants to be more than your neighbor.”

“Just the opposite, I think.” Ursula stepped down. “He’s bribing me to leave him alone.”

“If that were true, wouldn’t he have brought a cactus?”

Ursula laughed and filled the vases with water. “He’s as prickly as a cactus, but it seems his overachieving conscience won’t let him get away with being rude. Thus, the flowers. Now that he’s apologized, he can go back to brooding in his cave.”

“We’ll see.”

“Yes, we will.” Ursula trimmed the stems of one bouquet, stuffed it into a vase, fluffed the flowers and handed the arrangement to Catherine. “Here, you can put these out for your quilters to enjoy.”

* * *

IT DIDN’T TAKE long for the locksmith to do his thing. Once he’d gone, Mac made sure the deadbolts were latched and slipped the new keys onto his key ring. The leather fob had worn to the point that it was hard to read the M stamped onto it. Another of Andi’s craft projects, back before she realized leather came from cows.

Mac picked up his phone and dialed the familiar number. He was in luck. Detective Russ Ralston was in.

“It’s Mac. Just checking in to see if you’ve found any new evidence.”

“Sorry, nothing.” He sounded almost as frustrated as Mac felt.

“Have you checked out that tip from—?”

“You know I can’t share details. Rest assured, we’re following up every lead. That reward you offered has generated plenty of interest. So far none of the calls have panned out, but we’re still working on it. We won’t give up until we find him.”

Mac believed him. Russ was a longtime acquaintance and had a daughter two years younger than Andi. He was taking Andi’s murder as a personal affront. Not that Mac was relying entirely on police resources. The private investigator he’d hired was canvassing everyone even remotely connected to Joel Thaine, Andi’s boyfriend.

Mac never liked him. The first time they met, there was something...off about the young man. Nothing he could put a finger on, just the feeling Thaine was playing a part, saying what he was supposed to say to his girlfriend’s father. Come to think of it, Blossom didn’t care for him, either.