began rounding the bar toward them. Was
she kidding? Nicole fought back a surge of annoyance that rose instantly in
her chest—jeez, why was this stupid woman coming over to interrupt them?
The
woman's gaze was pinned to Michael, as though Nicole were not even there.
“Vickie,” she announced, extending an aptly clawed hand. “Vickie Finn. I own
the Cape Town Inn, down on Nevers Road .” Appearing almost reluctant, Michael
said hello and gave her a brief handshake.
She
appeared to be around forty. Freckles poured over her fair skin—face, neck,
and even disappearing into the lacy bra that edged out of her blouse. She
glanced at Nicole. Gave her a fake smile—it took another woman to recognize
not only the falseness of the gesture, but the falsity embedded in the smile
itself—but Nicole played along. Smiling back, she said, “Hi, I'm Nicole. Nice
to meet you.” And shook her hand.
Vickie's
smile was persistent. “And what about you? Your name is...?”
“Michael,”
he said.
“And
are you two new in town?”
“Yes,
sort of,” Nicole replied. “Just visiting really...” Meanwhile, she couldn't
help but notice that Vickie's date—the young man with the feral teeth—was
leveling them with a hooded glare from across the bar. Maybe he, too, had
noticed Vickie edging even closer.
Not
to be a jealous control-freak herself, but was it really necessary for Vickie
Finn to shove her speckled cleavage right under Michael's nose like that?
Where was a self-righteous prig like Hazel Baker when you needed her?
“Wait
a second—I know who you are!” Vickie said suddenly, clasping Michael's forearm
enthusiastically. “You're the hero I keep hearing about! Oh shit, why didn't
I put that together sooner? Tell me all about what happened! I heard about it
through the grapevine, but I didn't get any good details.”
Happily,
Nicole noticed that even in the presence of this effusive flirtation, Michael
issued his standard modest response.
Out
of the corner of her eye, Nicole saw Vickie's date sliding off his chair. He
began walking toward them and glowered the whole way over. Lean and wiry, the
man had dense black hair and thickets of five o'clock shadow—yet the face of a
boy. He was a good ten years younger than Vickie. Technically he wasn't bad
looking, but he did have an overbite and facial features that vaguely resembled
a ferret. (Typically, Alyssa liked to call this look “rodentine.”)
When
he came up beside her, Vickie made brief introductions. “Michael, Nicole—this
is Danny Keegan. Danny, you'll never guess, these are the two who—”
“Yeah,
yeah, nice to meet you,” Danny Keegan grumbled without even a pretense of
indulgence, then said, “Vick, I paid the tab. Let's go.” With that, his hand
was on Vickie's elbow and he was leading her away. She went willingly, though
she looked back at Michael more than once and waved.
Vickie
Finn: determined .
In
fact, Nicole had the creeping feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of her.
***
When
she got back to the house, Michael returned to his boat and the man she’d met
at the coffee shop earlier, Herman MacDonald, came out of nowhere.
“Hello, Nicole.”
Startled, she
turned, her keys stuck in the door lock.
“Sorry, I didn't
mean to scare you,” he said.
“No, no,” she
said, “not at all. I just didn't hear you behind me. Um, what's up?”
“Not too much,
can't complain. Got no right to.”
“Okay...well
that's a good attitude,” she fumbled.
His feet stayed
planted at the base of the front steps. With his hands in his pockets, he
shrugged. “Nicole, I don't wanna get in your way or anything, but truth is—I'd
been working on some repairs around here for your aunt right before she died.
Outside the place, mostly. You know, fixing a loose shutter, trimming a branch
back from a window, that sort of thing. I was just about to get to
she kidding? Nicole fought back a surge of annoyance that rose instantly in
her chest—jeez, why was this stupid woman coming over to interrupt them?
The
woman's gaze was pinned to Michael, as though Nicole were not even there.
“Vickie,” she announced, extending an aptly clawed hand. “Vickie Finn. I own
the Cape Town Inn, down on Nevers Road .” Appearing almost reluctant, Michael
said hello and gave her a brief handshake.
She
appeared to be around forty. Freckles poured over her fair skin—face, neck,
and even disappearing into the lacy bra that edged out of her blouse. She
glanced at Nicole. Gave her a fake smile—it took another woman to recognize
not only the falseness of the gesture, but the falsity embedded in the smile
itself—but Nicole played along. Smiling back, she said, “Hi, I'm Nicole. Nice
to meet you.” And shook her hand.
Vickie's
smile was persistent. “And what about you? Your name is...?”
“Michael,”
he said.
“And
are you two new in town?”
“Yes,
sort of,” Nicole replied. “Just visiting really...” Meanwhile, she couldn't
help but notice that Vickie's date—the young man with the feral teeth—was
leveling them with a hooded glare from across the bar. Maybe he, too, had
noticed Vickie edging even closer.
Not
to be a jealous control-freak herself, but was it really necessary for Vickie
Finn to shove her speckled cleavage right under Michael's nose like that?
Where was a self-righteous prig like Hazel Baker when you needed her?
“Wait
a second—I know who you are!” Vickie said suddenly, clasping Michael's forearm
enthusiastically. “You're the hero I keep hearing about! Oh shit, why didn't
I put that together sooner? Tell me all about what happened! I heard about it
through the grapevine, but I didn't get any good details.”
Happily,
Nicole noticed that even in the presence of this effusive flirtation, Michael
issued his standard modest response.
Out
of the corner of her eye, Nicole saw Vickie's date sliding off his chair. He
began walking toward them and glowered the whole way over. Lean and wiry, the
man had dense black hair and thickets of five o'clock shadow—yet the face of a
boy. He was a good ten years younger than Vickie. Technically he wasn't bad
looking, but he did have an overbite and facial features that vaguely resembled
a ferret. (Typically, Alyssa liked to call this look “rodentine.”)
When
he came up beside her, Vickie made brief introductions. “Michael, Nicole—this
is Danny Keegan. Danny, you'll never guess, these are the two who—”
“Yeah,
yeah, nice to meet you,” Danny Keegan grumbled without even a pretense of
indulgence, then said, “Vick, I paid the tab. Let's go.” With that, his hand
was on Vickie's elbow and he was leading her away. She went willingly, though
she looked back at Michael more than once and waved.
Vickie
Finn: determined .
In
fact, Nicole had the creeping feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of her.
***
When
she got back to the house, Michael returned to his boat and the man she’d met
at the coffee shop earlier, Herman MacDonald, came out of nowhere.
“Hello, Nicole.”
Startled, she
turned, her keys stuck in the door lock.
“Sorry, I didn't
mean to scare you,” he said.
“No, no,” she
said, “not at all. I just didn't hear you behind me. Um, what's up?”
“Not too much,
can't complain. Got no right to.”
“Okay...well
that's a good attitude,” she fumbled.
His feet stayed
planted at the base of the front steps. With his hands in his pockets, he
shrugged. “Nicole, I don't wanna get in your way or anything, but truth is—I'd
been working on some repairs around here for your aunt right before she died.
Outside the place, mostly. You know, fixing a loose shutter, trimming a branch
back from a window, that sort of thing. I was just about to get to
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