River Road by Jayne Ann Krentz Page B

real fire going.
    Mason swallowed some of his beer, leaned down and used a chisel to poke at one of the tiles. Some of the grout that secured it to the backing crumbled into fine dust.
    He straightened and set the beer on a side table. “The grout is in bad shape. I could probably take this down with my bare hands.”
    “I wonder why she didn’t call in a professional to install the tiles,” Lucy said.
    Mason shook his head and studied the raggedly arranged tiles with the expression of a doctor surveying a doomed patient. “We in the hardware business see this type of mistake over and over again. Someone insists on a do-it-yourself job to try to save a few bucks. The result is that it ends up costing more to fix the bad workmanship than the project would have cost if it had been done right in the first place.”
    Lucy smiled. “Luckily, I can afford dinner. How long do you think it will take to remove the tilework?”
    “Not long—maybe a couple of hours, start to finish. I’ll want to go slow so I don’t do any damage to the original fireplace surround.”
    “A couple of hours.” Lucy glanced at her watch. “Why don’t we have dinner and then tackle those tiles?”
    “Good idea.”
    Mason looked remarkably cheerful, she thought. No, not cheerful, more like filled with keen anticipation. She could see it in his eyes.
    It was just dinner. So why was she feeling a little rattled?
    “How does pan-seared salmon sound?” she asked.
    “Very good,” he said. “Terrific.”
    “Follow me.”
    She walked through the wide opening that divided the living room and the front hall and crossed into the old-fashioned kitchen. Mason followed hard on her heels.
    “Can I do something?” he asked.
    “You can set the table. Dishes are in that glass-fronted cabinet. Silverware is in the drawer next to the refrigerator.”
    He went to work, looking extremely satisfied with himself.
    “Nolan Kelly came to see me right after you left the store this afternoon,” he said.
    “Did he?” She opened the refrigerator and took out the salmon that she had marinated in olive oil, lime juice and soy sauce. “I saw him sitting at a table in front of the café.”
    “Figured you did,” Mason said. “He was with Jillian Colfax.”
    “Yes, I saw her, too.”
    Mason tore off a chunk of the bread and took a bite. “Thought so. Your aunt told you that Jillian married Quinn Colfax?”
    “Sara mentioned it. No surprise there.”
    “No,” Mason agreed. “She always had her eye on the prize. And the big prize in Summer River was the son of Warner Colfax.”
    “How long have they been married?”
    “Deke said they married a year or two after they both graduated from college.”
    “I’m surprised they haven’t had kids.”
    Mason folded a paper napkin with origami-style precision. “I don’t think things are turning out the way Jillian hoped they would.”
    Lucy set the strainer filled with washed baby bok choy on the counter next to the stove. “Meaning?”
    “Deke says everyone thought that when Warner Colfax took it into his head to fire up his very own winery here in the valley he would turn the job of running Colfax Inc. over to his son.”
    “That didn’t happen?”
    “Nope. Word is the old man brought in an outsider as CEO.”
    “That had to hurt.”
    “Probably.” Mason adjusted the handles of the knife and spoon so that they were perfectly aligned at the bottom edge of the folded napkin. “Quinn got stuck with a marketing job at the winery.”
    “Jillian can’t be thrilled with that. Maybe it explains why they haven’t had children.”
    “Maybe.” Mason placed the fork into position with great care. “You do know that Colfax bought out his partner’s share of what was then Colfax and Brinker, right?”
    “Yes. Aunt Sara mentioned it. She said that Brinker was so devastated by the death of his son that he lost all interest in Colfax and Brinker. He sold his half to Colfax and a few months later died of a