impressed that I offered to build the stage?” He nudged me with his shoulder.
“No,” I repeated.
He bumped me again. It was like I was walking down the street with a big, bouncy dog. “Not even a tiny bit?” he asked, his mouth close to my face.
It was hard to keep a serious expression with his warm, teasing voice in my ear.
“If I say yes, will you stop asking me about going back to Boston and will you stop talking about wooing me, as though we were characters in some kind of bodice-ripper novel?”
“So I am making progress!” he crowed.
“Only in driving me crazy,” I said, but I couldn’t keep from smiling, which pretty much negated the effect of my words. I would rather have been walking down Main Street with Marcus, but I wasn’t. On the other hand, the sun was shining, the sky was blue and we were on our way to get a bowl of Eric’s chocolate pudding cake.
Andrew was still grinning at me and I gave up and smiled back. “Don’t get any ideas.”
He held up two fingers like a peace sign. “Two weeks, Kathleen,” he said softly. “Who knows what could happen in two weeks?”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I said.
Of course I was wrong.
4
T he next week passed in a blur of preparations for the festival. Andrew built not one but two portable stages for Abigail, and helped Oren with a new ramp at the Stratton. He was ingratiating himself all over town, dispensing charm and that killer grin. His self-deprecating story of how he’d ruined things with me by getting drunk and marrying a waitress from a fifties diner somehow had the effect of making people like him even more. More than once I found myself remembering how much fun we used to have together.
Only Owen and Hercules seemed to be immune to that charm. It wasn’t as though they didn’t like Andrew. They just ignored him completely. The two times he’d been at the house, both cats acted as though he weren’t even in the room.
On Friday morning I decided to walk down to Eric’s Place for a breakfast sandwich and coffee. Maggie and I had spent the previous evening after tai chi class painting the stages Andrew had built. Hannah had brought us hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls, which made the work go a little faster, but I was still tired when I woke up. And by the time I gave Hercules and Owen their breakfast I didn’t feel like making my own.
Marcus was waiting at the counter. I walked over and touched his arm. He turned, smiling when he saw it was me. That smile made my chest tighten for a moment.
“Hi,” I said. “Are you here getting breakfast, too?”
He nodded. “I have a pile of paperwork on my desk and I thought it might go a little better with one of Eric’s breakfast sandwiches and a decent cup of coffee.”
“Everything goes better with a decent cup of coffee,” I said. A lock of his dark hair had fallen onto his forehead and I had to put my hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching up and brushing it back.
“Yeah, I seem to remember that,” he said.
More than once I’d taken coffee to Marcus when he was working on a case. At least once I’d had to resist an urge to pour it on his shoes.
He gestured to my left arm. “How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s better,” I said. I could see the skepticism in his gaze. Marcus knew how much I disliked hospitals and doctors. “I swear.” I held out both hands. “The sling came off yesterday and I’ve been checked by Roma and my own doctor.’
“Good to know,” he said.
Claire came from the kitchen then with a brown paper take-out bag. She handed it to Marcus and then took my order. After she’d relayed it to Eric, she got me my own cup of coffee. I took a big sip and sighed with pleasure.
“How late were you and Maggie painting?” Marcus asked.
“Too late,” I said. I looked at him over the rim of the cup. “How did you know?”
“I picked Hannah up after her rehearsal. She’s staying with me.” He set the take-out bag on the counter
“No,” I repeated.
He bumped me again. It was like I was walking down the street with a big, bouncy dog. “Not even a tiny bit?” he asked, his mouth close to my face.
It was hard to keep a serious expression with his warm, teasing voice in my ear.
“If I say yes, will you stop asking me about going back to Boston and will you stop talking about wooing me, as though we were characters in some kind of bodice-ripper novel?”
“So I am making progress!” he crowed.
“Only in driving me crazy,” I said, but I couldn’t keep from smiling, which pretty much negated the effect of my words. I would rather have been walking down Main Street with Marcus, but I wasn’t. On the other hand, the sun was shining, the sky was blue and we were on our way to get a bowl of Eric’s chocolate pudding cake.
Andrew was still grinning at me and I gave up and smiled back. “Don’t get any ideas.”
He held up two fingers like a peace sign. “Two weeks, Kathleen,” he said softly. “Who knows what could happen in two weeks?”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I said.
Of course I was wrong.
4
T he next week passed in a blur of preparations for the festival. Andrew built not one but two portable stages for Abigail, and helped Oren with a new ramp at the Stratton. He was ingratiating himself all over town, dispensing charm and that killer grin. His self-deprecating story of how he’d ruined things with me by getting drunk and marrying a waitress from a fifties diner somehow had the effect of making people like him even more. More than once I found myself remembering how much fun we used to have together.
Only Owen and Hercules seemed to be immune to that charm. It wasn’t as though they didn’t like Andrew. They just ignored him completely. The two times he’d been at the house, both cats acted as though he weren’t even in the room.
On Friday morning I decided to walk down to Eric’s Place for a breakfast sandwich and coffee. Maggie and I had spent the previous evening after tai chi class painting the stages Andrew had built. Hannah had brought us hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls, which made the work go a little faster, but I was still tired when I woke up. And by the time I gave Hercules and Owen their breakfast I didn’t feel like making my own.
Marcus was waiting at the counter. I walked over and touched his arm. He turned, smiling when he saw it was me. That smile made my chest tighten for a moment.
“Hi,” I said. “Are you here getting breakfast, too?”
He nodded. “I have a pile of paperwork on my desk and I thought it might go a little better with one of Eric’s breakfast sandwiches and a decent cup of coffee.”
“Everything goes better with a decent cup of coffee,” I said. A lock of his dark hair had fallen onto his forehead and I had to put my hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching up and brushing it back.
“Yeah, I seem to remember that,” he said.
More than once I’d taken coffee to Marcus when he was working on a case. At least once I’d had to resist an urge to pour it on his shoes.
He gestured to my left arm. “How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s better,” I said. I could see the skepticism in his gaze. Marcus knew how much I disliked hospitals and doctors. “I swear.” I held out both hands. “The sling came off yesterday and I’ve been checked by Roma and my own doctor.’
“Good to know,” he said.
Claire came from the kitchen then with a brown paper take-out bag. She handed it to Marcus and then took my order. After she’d relayed it to Eric, she got me my own cup of coffee. I took a big sip and sighed with pleasure.
“How late were you and Maggie painting?” Marcus asked.
“Too late,” I said. I looked at him over the rim of the cup. “How did you know?”
“I picked Hannah up after her rehearsal. She’s staying with me.” He set the take-out bag on the counter
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