Читать книгу Sweet Tibby Mack - Roz Fox Denny - Страница 11

WINNIE RAPPED SMARTLY on Cole’s back door before breezing into his kitchen. “Hi,” she said, setting her dish on the counter next to a surprised Cicely. “I’m Winnie Toliver, one of Cole’s neighbors. He’s such a dear. Everyone here thinks so. We’re delighted that he’s decided to come live in his grandfather’s house.”

“Live here? Cole?” Cicely plunked her wineglass down next to the bottle. “Oh, no. It’s far too remote. He has a nice condo just blocks from Wilshire.”

Winnie looked properly sympathetic. “It’s not so bad once you learn how to cope with the heat, mosquitoes and such. I see Cole set a romantic table for two out on his screened porch. I hope he remembered to spray for scorpions. The house has been closed up since his grandfather died. Where is the dear boy?”

Cicely’s mouth opened and closed like a fish taking bait. “Out,” she managed before another loud knock precluded anything else she might have said.

Henrietta Feeny bustled though the door and set a steaming pasta casserole and a foil-wrapped package of bread on the stove. “So you’re Cicely,” she gushed. “Welcome to Yaqui Springs. Any friend of Cole’s is automatically a friend of ours.” She nudged Winnie. “I see we have our work cut out to fatten this young lady up. Ah, here’s the very person to add those calories. Our Rosamond.” Henrietta beamed at Cicely. “I don’t know what decadent delight she’s brought, but knowing Rosie there’ll be at least a thousand calories per bite. Would you believe? All of us were once as skinny as you.” She patted her ample girth.

Winnie opened the screen. “Four-layer raspberry torte. Rosie, you outdid yourself. Here, let me put it in the fridge. I’ll pop the salad in to cool, too.”

Rosamond waved the rich confection under Cicely’s nose as Winnie made room on the top shelf. Closing the refrigerator gently, Rosamond introduced herself, then said she had to run. “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave by the front door. I remember Yale—that’s Cole’s granddaddy,” she clarified for Cicely. “Yale had problems with rattlers nesting under his rear steps. Some say it’s too early in the season, but I’m a total basket case when it comes to snakes. Have a good visit, Cicely. We’ll see more of you, I’m sure.”

“Hi, everyone.” Justine Banks barged in without knocking. “Sorry to be so late. Rosie, don’t rush off. We can all walk out together.” Justine let the screen slam behind her as she thrust a tray of hors d’oeuvres into Cicely’s bejeweled hands. “Oh,” she said, catching hold of the younger woman’s fingers. “Those rings are pretty. And matching earrings.” She touched the hoops. “Dear me, Winnie, I hope someone warned her to put her jewelry in a safe place tonight.”

Cicely snatched her fingers back so fast she almost dropped the tray. “Safe? Safe from what?” Her eyes glazed a little.

Justine pursed her lips as she rescued the tray and made room for her quiche puffs on the shelf below Winnie’s salad. “Pack rats, lovey.” She closed the fridge door decisively. “Yale had quite a time—the little thieves. Clever they are. Carted away an expensive watch, a ring and one money clip that I know of. But Yale was so forgetful. You’ll be fine as long as you remember to keep everything shiny put away.”

The women pressed close to Cicely, all nodding and smiling.

Winnie snapped her fingers. “I believe this welcoming mission has served its purpose. Come, ladies, we don’t want to intrude. Cole will show up soon.”

“I’m sure he will,” said Justine. “I passed him going into the store. In addition to the chives I needed, I found the item you requested, Winnie.” Justine discreetly tucked a small white card into Winnie’s pocket. Two pair of twinkling eyes met.

Cicely teetered beneath the arch as the women started for the front door. She twisted her bracelets nervously, peering into shadowy corners. “Please, will you wait a minute? I just remembered a prior engagement at home. Let me leave Cole a note. Then I’ll walk with you to my car.

“You’re not staying?” Winnie pretended shock. The others tsked softly until their leader spoke again. “Well, if you must go, you must. Poor Cole will be so disappointed. I vote we leave him the food to compensate.”

Everyone agreed it was only fair.

THE MINUTE COLE STEPPED into Tibby’s store, he saw the roses he’d supposedly sent. The bouquet was gaudy in his estimation. Not at all like what he’d choose. Small buds in soft pink would be his preference.

Bending to inspect the flowers more closely, Cole jumped back when a menacing growl raised the hair on the back of his neck. A dog—a humungous beast—trotted around the corner of the counter, teeth bared.

“Good boy. Where’d you come from?” Cole knelt down slowly and stretched out a hand. He liked animals, although he’d never been in a position to own one. Another thing he’d do if he sank roots in Yaqui Springs—get an Irish setter.

The dog edged closer and sniffed. Cole scratched him between the sleek pointed ears. A pink tongue lapped at his wrist, and the long curved tail wagged.

Tibby backed out of her storeroom, arms laden with jars of honey. Seeing Cole making overtures to her dog sent a stab of hunger to her heart and a blast of fire to her cheeks. “Exterminator,” she hissed, “fine guard dog you are. Bring a burglar in and show him the silver.”

“This bruiser is yours?” Cole failed to conceal his surprise.

“Yes. I plan to teach him to attack on command. Come here,” she ordered, and was greatly relieved when the dog left Cole’s side to flop at her feet, his nose tucked between his paws.

“The store is closed. I assumed Justine would lock up on her way out. But maybe she saw you heading this way. I usually try to accommodate residents. If you don’t mind, I’ll shelve these jars while you find what you need.”

“I came about the roses.”

Tibby stammered slightly. “Oh. A-and I didn’t even thank you. Um, I guess we both flew off the handle this morning. The bouquet is gorgeous, Cole. Really, though, I never meant for you to drive all the way to Brawley for your groceries.”

Every line and feature of her expressive face softened when she gazed at those damned flowers. Cole wished he had ordered them, the change in her was so radical. And…she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “I, ah, didn’t send the roses.”

He glanced away from the embarrassment that quickly replaced the pleasure in her eyes. “The first I heard of them was from Cicely. She’s upset. Do you mind if I take a look at the card?”

“Help yourself. But…I don’t understand. If you didn’t send them, who did? And why would anyone use your name?”

“I don’t know. But the florist does.”

“They came from Brawley.” Visibly shaken, Tibby thumped the jars of honey down on the counter.

Cole fingered the empty pick centered in the bouquet. “Where’s the card?”

“There, beside the vase.”

He lifted the vase and peered underneath. “It doesn’t seem to be here. Did you put it in your pocket?”

“Why would I, for goodness’ sake? It’s not as if I had romantic illusions or anything. Look on the floor. Maybe it blew off when your girlfriend flounced out. What have you done with her? I thought you said you were cooking dinner.”

Cole felt his ears grow warm. “Eating takes second place to clearing up this mess. Cicely’s sort of…well, she’s, ah, jealous.” The last he muttered as he dropped to his knees to search the floor.

Tibby smothered a grin. “I’m sure that feeds your ego.

“Are you laughing?” Cole glanced up from his undignified position.

Tibby couldn’t hold the laughter in. “No…oo…ooo.”

“Dammit, if this is your idea of a joke, it’s not funny.” He scrambled up. “A lady I’m trying to impress thinks I sent you roses.”

Tibby curbed her mirth. “You can’t believe I’d send flowers to myself. Oh, and I suppose I have a crystal ball to tell me precisely when your movie queen would waltzin here this afternoon. Don’t flatter yourself, O’Donnell.”

“Then help me find that card so I can call the florist and clear this up once and for all.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll turn out my pockets while you search through the trash. I use that five-gallon ice-cream bucket behind the counter.”

“Is this the only rubbish you have?” Cole asked a few minutes later, after he’d checked every envelope and torn receipt in the round cardboard barrel.

Tibby swept one hand toward the coffee bar and another toward the back room. “Two more trash cans, plus the dumpster at the end of the parking lot. I’d help, but I wouldn’t want you saying I found it and kept it from you. I’m taking my dog home to feed while you dig around. Have at it!”

She showed up again just as Cole emerged, looking slightly unkempt. “No luck?” she asked, truly surprised to see he was empty-handed. “Well, I wonder what happened to the dumb thing. I swear it was right beside the vase. I figured it’d caught on something and made its way into the trash.”

Stepping around him, she yanked open one of the drawers behind the counter. There lay the map she’d held when his girlfriend took off like a shot. Tibby shook it, but nothing fell out. Perplexed, she said, “Why would anyone spend that kind of money playing a practical joke? And who, for goodness’ sake?”

“Beats me.” Cole cast a darkly troubled glance out the window. “I guess I’d better get on home. Maybe I’ll buy a second bottle of wine. Red, if you have it.”

“Sure. Top shelf, last row.” Tibby watched him choose one. “If the card appears, I’ll tuck it in your front screen. Otherwise I’ll go through the Brawley phone book I have at home and find the number.” She gave him change and bagged his purchase. “I do feel bad, Cole.”

“Thanks. It’s s a puzzle, and I’m stumped. I’m a fan of mysteries and usually figure out whodunnit way before the end.”

“Really? I read them, too,” Tibby said. “In fiction the next step after something like this is to find a dead body.”

“I’ll just have to hope Cicely’s not so steamed that it turns out to be my dead body.” Smiling crookedly, Cole left. Almost at once he stuck his head back inside. “Don’t forget to lock the door.” Then he was gone again.

She not only locked up but snapped off the front lights. Even in twilight the roses were pretty. Although a dull ache crowded out the joy she’d experienced when she’d thought Cole had sent them.

Closing her eyes, Tibby rubbed at a niggling headache. Obviously it didn’t take much to turn her head where Cole was concerned. Well, if she needed a dose of reality, she could visualize him and Cicely Sleepover. That’d do it.

Steps slower, Tibby snapped off the remaining lights. She welcomed the night as she made her way next door to a solitary dinner with her dog. At the door she realized she’d passed up another opportunity to give Cole the letter from Mr. Harcourt. But what did it matter? His mind wasn’t on clearing his land this weekend.

THE MINUTE TIBBY DOUSED the store’s lights, Cole was swallowed by darkness. He skidded to a stop where their properties joined to let his eyes adjust. His weekend certainly wasn’t going the way he’d planned. Instead of a nice romantic dinner, he had one woman ticked off at him and he’d inadvertently hurt another. The look on Tibby’s face when he told her he hadn’t sent the roses bothered him. It dredged a memory from the past. Her birthday. Her fifteenth. No, sixteenth. She’d invited him to a play at the Date Festival—Midsummer Night’s Dream.

He resumed walking as memories surged in. If he hadn’t been so hot for that tennis instructor, he probably wouldn’t have been so abrupt with Tibby. Recalling the pain in her eyes, he felt guilty.