Читать книгу Echo Lake - Carla Neggers - Страница 11

Four

Heather woke up to no truck and no food in the house—not so much as a slice of bread for toast or a drop of milk for coffee. Fortunately, Smith’s, the only restaurant in the village center, was open and within easy walking distance, one of the perks of living on Thistle Lane. Smith’s was popular with loads of people she knew, including her brothers. Someone would be willing to loan her a set of jumper cables and give her a ride up to Vic’s.

Phoebe’s sole bathroom had its original claw-foot tub, with a brand-new shower curtain she’d added when Heather moved in. She’d found a kids’ one decorated with little hammers, saws and wrenches. “I thought that would be fun for you,” she’d told Heather. “Make you smile when you jump in the shower. I was tempted by the one with puppies, but I went with the tools.”

It probably hadn’t occurred to Phoebe that Heather could have a guy over and the shower curtain might not convey the sexiest image of her.

Then again, it was just a shower curtain, and it was clean and did the job. Heather was nothing if not practical.

And it did make her smile.

She took the time—for a change—to blow-dry her hair since she didn’t want to go out into the cold morning with it partially wet. It’d turn into icicles. She dressed in warm layers and added a hat, proper gloves and her L.L. Bean boots. If Rohan escaped today, she’d be ready to chase him across Echo Lake if need be.

The sting of the early-morning cold chased away any lingering fuzziness from her late-night delving into the United States Foreign Service and its elite corps of security personnel, the Diplomatic Security Service. She hadn’t been overstating yesterday when she’d concluded Brody was extremely fit. He had to be, given the work he did. Ten to one he took on the most dangerous posts.

He wasn’t the Brody Hancock she had known as a teenager.

Heather walked the short distance up Thistle Lane to South Main Street. The town library was on the east corner, a quirky nineteenth-century brick-and-stone building that occupied a large lot dotted with old shade trees and evergreens.

Had Brody ever so much as stepped foot in his town library?

Heather shook off the question. Why even think about such things?

She crossed South Main to the town common. The air was still and very cold as the gray early morning gave way to a lavender sunrise, glowing on the snow and the classic houses that surrounded the large, oval-shaped common. The seasonal skating rink on the eastern end of the common was quiet now, but it was a favorite gathering place during these short winter days.

Staying on a shoveled, sanded walk, Heather walked past the Civil War and World War monuments, bare-limbed oaks and sugar maples and empty benches. She scooted across Main Street and ducked down the side street where Smith’s was located in a converted house with white clapboards and black shutters. In warm-weather months, the porch would be decorated with hanging flower baskets and white-painted wicker furniture. Now the furniture was in storage, replaced by a stack of wood, a bucket of sand and a shovel. A grapevine wreath decorated for Valentine’s Day—still a couple weeks off—was hung on the glossy green-painted door.

When she went inside, Heather wasn’t surprised to see her brothers Eric and Justin at a square table near the front. Both were dressed for work, Eric in his police uniform, Justin in canvas pants and a dark, heavy sweatshirt and down vest similar to hers. They had fresh coffee, their breakfast orders obviously on the way.

Justin tapped the table next to him. “Have a seat,” he said.

He was a skilled carpenter who specialized in older buildings, and, more and more, he was taking over the day-to-day operations of Sloan & Sons. He’d been reluctant to let Heather oversee the renovations on Vic Scarlatti’s house, but he’d acquiesced in the end—with reservations. “Just do your job,” he’d told her. “Stay out of Vic’s dramas.”

Good advice, Heather thought as she unzipped her vest and sat down, aware of her brothers eyeing her. It was as if they knew all wasn’t normal in her world. She wondered if they’d heard about her puppy rescue yesterday and if it that qualified as one of Vic’s dramas. What about Brody Hancock’s return to Knights Bridge? Vic had invited him. He was a DSS agent. Would that raise her brothers’ eyebrows?

Heather ordered coffee, eggs, sausage and toast and decided not to speculate—or at least try not to. On his sporadic visits to Knights Bridge, Vic had managed to gain a reputation, at least with her brothers, for things happening when he was in town. He managed his property himself but was clueless about minor issues that could wait versus major ones that couldn’t wait. Every leak was about to cause catastrophic damage. Every branch lost in a storm meant the tree was about to fall on his house. In working with him, Heather had discovered it wasn’t that he was dramatic, and certainly not that he was demanding, so much as he simply didn’t know. He lacked experience and erred on the side of caution.

When the waitress, one of Heather’s classmates from high school, withdrew, Justin picked up his coffee mug and leaned back in his chair. “How’s work at Vic’s place going?”

“Great.” An honest answer, she thought, grateful when her own coffee arrived. “He wants to see loads of lumber and guys with saws and hammers, but we’re not there yet. He’s decided to add a wine cellar. I’ve been working on that. Adrienne Portale is advising me. She’s toured some of the best wine cellars in the world. Have you met her?”

“Not yet,” Justin said.

Eric shook his head. “Me, either. You’ve been spending a lot of time up there, haven’t you?”

Heather shrugged. “I guess. It’s a complicated job.”

“We have nothing against Vic, but I wouldn’t describe us as fans, either,” Justin said. “He might have been a stellar diplomat, but he’s also an old womanizer with no family to speak of.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” She dumped cream into her coffee. “Trust me, Vic has no designs on me. He’s lived in a different world from us but not that different.”

“I was thinking more on the lines he could have regrets,” Eric said.

Her brothers’ breakfasts arrived. Justin picked up a triangle of buttered whole-grain toast. “Vic won’t take to retirement easily. He’s not the type. He’s used to a lot of adventure, adrenaline and attention. When he was working, Knights Bridge was a break from that.”

“Maybe it’s all he wants now,” Heather said.

“Peace and quiet and a nice house in the country?” Eric shook his head. “I doubt it.”

Justin added fresh-ground pepper to his eggs. “People often take some time when they retire to look back at their lives. Vic’s never married. He’s never had kids. He’s never cultivated friendships in Knights Bridge, which he now wants to call home after living all over the world. Is he keeping his apartment in New York?”

“I don’t think he’s decided yet,” Heather said.

“He’s in transition.” Justin handed her the pepper grinder, but there was nothing casual about him this morning. “Your work up there puts you in the middle of that transition.”

“He says he’s committed to the renovations. I’ve no reason to doubt him.” Heather’s own breakfast arrived, and she grabbed her fork and stabbed a bit of onion in the home fries. “Vic doesn’t strike me as a man with many regrets.”

“You never know,” Eric said. “You get older and start thinking about what you missed, what you gave up for reasons good and bad—what you screwed up. He’s had an all-consuming career, and he’s calling it quits on the young side for a diplomat. What’s he going to do with himself?”

“I don’t know. Read books and drink wine. He’ll figure it out.” Heather drank some of her coffee, aware of her brothers’ scrutiny. Nothing new, but best to resist any hint of defensiveness. “Anyway, I’m overseeing renovations. I’m not his retirement consultant.”

Eric studied her in that big-brother way she sometimes found reassuring and other times found annoying. He wasn’t a police officer for no reason. “Heather,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m hungry. I woke up forgetting I don’t have any food in the house.”

Eric shook his head. “That’s not it.”

“Come on,” Justin said. “Out with it.”

She reached for the little dish of homemade strawberry jam. “I had to walk over here. My truck wouldn’t start last night, and I ended up leaving it at Vic’s. Dead battery.”

“How did you get home?” Justin asked.

“I got a ride.”

“Vic? This house sitter, Adrienne Portale?”

“No.” Heather set the dish in front of her. “Not Vic or Adrienne.”

Justin sighed. “Then who?”

She spread jam on a triangle of her toast.

Eric snatched up his coffee. “Hell, Heather, why are you stonewalling? If you’ve got some secret boyfriend, just tell us to mind our own damn business—”

“Brody Hancock gave me a ride home.”

“Brody Hancock? Are you serious?” Justin groaned, looking as if he were about to jump up out of his chair. “Damn, Heather. You could have called me for a ride. You didn’t have to rely on Brody. What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know. He says Vic invited him. I had no idea until I ran into him yesterday. He got in late the night before. He’s a Diplomatic Security Service agent now.”

She deliberately left out finding Rohan in the brook and her reaction to Brody. She didn’t need to get into those particular details. There were some things her brothers didn’t need to know, and she had a good feel for what they were. In any case, she’d chalked up her intense, immediate physical attraction to him to the adrenaline of her puppy rescue. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t used to being around buff guys.

Eric held on to his coffee mug without picking it up. “Brody’s a DSS agent now? You’re sure nothing is going on out there?”

“Vic took in a golden retriever puppy who’s causing him fits. Other than that, no, nothing.” Heather ignored both brothers’ scrutiny and tried her toast. “Strawberry jam reminds me of summer. Look, if you guys have any questions about what’s going on, ask Vic. Ask Brody.”

“You’re just minding your own business,” Justin said.

“Do I hear a trace of sarcasm, Justin? Yes, as a matter of fact, I am minding my own business. I didn’t even recognize Brody at first.”

Eric pushed his mug away from him. “He drove you home last night.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “He didn’t interrogate me about anything, if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s not like there are any secrets in Knights Bridge, anyway.”

“There are a million secrets in Knights Bridge,” Eric said.

“And not one of them is mine. My life is under constant scrutiny.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “Relax. We haven’t searched Phoebe’s house yet now that you’re staying there.”

“I know. I can tell. I leave a thread in a door to detect intruders.”

It wasn’t true, and she was only half-serious, but bringing up her position in their family had become her refrain whenever she was feeling the heat. Sometimes it even worked. But she didn’t know why Eric and Justin’s questions about Brody were getting to her.

Eric rubbed the back of his neck. He’d always been more patient than Justin, if only marginally so. “Look, Heather, we know you can handle yourself. That’s not the issue. Brody didn’t leave town on good terms and vowed never to return.”

“Things change,” she said.

“So they do. I’m surprised he’s a federal agent now. Good for him.”

Heather picked up her coffee mug. “But?”

Eric’s gaze leveled on her. He had the Sloan deep blue eyes. “But my one piece of unsolicited advice is to spend as little extra time there as possible.”

“I agree,” Justin said. “Do what you need to do. Go home. Stay out of any dramas out there.”

“The puppy is the biggest drama I’ve noticed. Do you know of anyone who’s missing a twelve-week-old golden retriever? He doesn’t have any tags. We figure he was abandoned out at the lake.”

Justin made a face. “We?”

“I did have an opinion, yes. Come on. Ease up.” When neither brother responded, Heather stared at them. “You two are worried about me? Seriously?”

Eric held up a hand. “Hold on. Don’t get wound up. Vic’s never let anyone from town into his life. He’s kept his distance because that’s who he is and what he wants.”

“You don’t want me getting ahead of myself, thinking he’s—what? A friend?”

“Let’s just say Vic isn’t looking for us to invite him over for potluck night,” Justin said.

“Maybe he will now that he’s retired, but that’s up to him.”

Heather tackled her eggs, wishing now she’d waited for the country store to open and grabbed something there. She was bound to have run into someone she knew who would have driven her up to Vic’s. Justin smiled suddenly—not, she realized, because of her or her situation. Samantha Bennett, his fiancée, had just entered the restaurant. She wasn’t wearing a hat over her short golden-brown curls, but she had her winter coat buttoned up to her chin.

Heather grinned at her second-born brother. “You just got giddy.”

“Giddy, Heather?”

“Happy? Excited? Pleased? I admit I didn’t think you and Samantha would last past Thanksgiving, but here you are, a couple of lovebirds.”

Justin looked past her to Eric. “Can I throw our little sister off the front porch? Would you arrest me?”

“No point arresting you,” Eric said. “There isn’t a jury that would convict you.”

“Funny, you two,” Heather said. “Very funny.”

Justin grinned. “Eric and I need to mark the calendar. You just admitted you were wrong.”

Heather grinned back at him. “I’m seldom wrong only because I have the guidance of my five wise older brothers.”

Eric and Justin laughed in disbelief as Samantha breezed over to their table. She sat across from Justin and rubbed her hands together. She was very fit, energetic and new to Knights Bridge. She’d arrived in October looking for eighteenth-century pirate treasure and instead had found Justin, a carpenter and volunteer firefighter.

“Cold, Sam?” he asked.

“It’s nine degrees out there. I don’t know how you people can be laughing.”

“Laughter warms you up,” Eric said with a wink.

“So does coffee.” Samantha unbuttoned her coat but left it on as she reached for Justin’s mug. “I could be in South Florida with my parents. They’re working on salvage plans for their sunken World War II submarines. They’ll go back to Scotland in April. The forecast high today in Key West is eighty. The forecast high here is twenty.”

“And it’ll last for five minutes at two o’clock,” Heather added.

The widespread skepticism in town about Justin Sloan and Samantha Bennett as a couple was giving way to optimism. They were just so different. Justin was the second of six siblings and had lived in Knights Bridge his entire life. Samantha was an only child, an adventurer from a family of prominent adventurers, and a woman who’d never lived in one place for long. She was staying at the Sloan family cabin, supposedly doing research on Captain Benjamin Farraday, her mysterious eighteenth-century pirate. Heather suspected Samantha was at least as interested in being close to Justin.

Samantha put her hands around the mug with a sigh. “Warmth. It feels so good. I keep forgetting to wear gloves. Does the cold ever get to you, Heather?”

“Sometimes, especially when I’m not prepared.”

As was the case yesterday, she thought. She didn’t so much as glance at her two brothers at the table in case her expression gave her away and they realized she hadn’t told them everything about her first encounter with Brody.

“We want Vic’s renovations to go well for you,” Justin said. “Leave whatever Vic Scarlatti and Brody Hancock have going on to them.”

“Who’s Brody Hancock?” Samantha asked.

Heather waited a half beat but she already knew Eric and Justin weren’t going to respond. They would let her explain Brody and watch her reaction. She decided to keep it simple. “He’s a Diplomatic Security Service agent who used to live in town.”

Samantha set the mug on the table. She already looked warmer. “There’s a lot of fine print in that answer, isn’t there? You all knew him growing up?”

“We did.” Justin handed her a triangle of his toast. “The Brody Hancock we knew didn’t like to be bored. I doubt that’s changed.”

“Not if he’s a DSS agent,” Eric said, pushing back his chair. “That can be a hellishly dangerous job. I don’t know where he’s been posted, but I would bet real money that he’s taken on the toughest assignments.”

“An adrenaline junkie?” Samantha asked.

The Bennetts could be described as adrenaline junkies, Heather thought, but she said nothing as her eldest brother shrugged. “Maybe. I haven’t seen Brody since he was eighteen.” He got to his feet. “If you’re ready, Heather, I can give you a ride out there.”

Heather would have liked to stay and chat with Samantha, who was endlessly interesting but also interested in others. “If you and Justin are thinking about getting a dog, Rohan is cute as anything and has a great personality. He just needs some training.”

Samantha smiled. “A way of saying he’s rambunctious, isn’t it?”

“He’ll learn well once he’s settled into a permanent home,” Heather said.

“You mean once he’s away from Vic,” Eric said with a grunt. “Let’s go, Heather. I’ve got jumper cables in the car.”

Samantha looked confused. “Jumper cables?”

Heather let Justin explain about her truck. She grabbed her gloves and hat, said goodbye to him and Samantha and headed out with Eric. It was entirely possible that Brody had decided not to stick around in Knights Bridge and had gone off to wherever DSS agents went off to when they were on home leave.

Just as well, maybe, if he wasn’t at Vic’s when she got there with Eric.