She pulled into her driveway, and noted for the first time how dark it was between her garage and her house, how the trees along her neighbor’s side of the drive made it seem even darker. She really should have a light installed outside, she thought, one that would illuminate not only the garage, but the entire yard and drive. Maybe one of those motion-sensor things that lit up when someone came within so many feet of the house or the garage.
She was glad she’d had the presence of mind to leave some lights on in the house, and once she was inside, the door closed securely behind her, the feeling that unseen eyes were following her lifted. She even felt a little silly for letting her imagination get the best of her. Still, first thing tomorrow she’d call Stan Wescott, and have him get right on those outside lights. Tonight, she’d lock her doors, check her windows, and try not to spook herself any more than she already had.
Grady’s participation in the impromptu darts tournament had been short-lived. Beck had knocked him out in the second round, and he’d spent the rest of the evening spectating and cheering on his brother, who lost to Hal in the finals. The losers paid up in beers at the bar, and soon they were all sitting around a table trading dart stories. Then they talked cars, followed by fish tales of questionable veracity. Finally, the topic of conversation turned to law enforcement, and everyone had a story or two to share.
“The worst crime scene I ever saw…”
“The dumbest guy I ever arrested…”
“There was this time I was sent to Maine to work on a serial-killer case…”
“I was in Arizona on a child abduction…”
Grady tuned it all out. He’d been a damned good agent in his day, but he left the Bureau because he found he could no longer separate the good memories from the bad. He’d found peace in his mountains, but even that was proving to have run its course. He’d told Mia that he’d made a life for himself there, and it was a good one. But if nothing else, being back with his family this week, seeing his old friends again, reminded him that the life he’d left behind hadn’t been so bad, after all. The thing was, he liked what he was doing, really enjoyed being a wilderness guide. He loved hiking, camping, and he’d found it easy enough to support himself doing just that. Of course, his expenses were minimal in Montana. He owned the house outright, and his car had long been paid for. His biggest expenses were food and enough wood to keep the woodstoves going in the winter when the oil truck couldn’t get through.
It both amused and annoyed him that his sister seemed to think that he spent his days sitting in a corner, sucking his thumb and watching game shows. Amused, because it was so far from the truth, and annoyed because, well, because it was so far from the truth that he couldn’t believe that she honestly believed it. He’d have to set her straight one of these days.
The entire wedding-week extravaganza amused him, as well. There’d been many weddings in their large family over the past few years, but none of them had taken a week to build up to. His own wedding to Melissa had been spur of the moment. They’d eloped, an act he’d later regretted when he realized how it had hurt his family to have been shut out. He’d never make that mistake again. Not that he was looking to get married again anytime soon, but still, these few days with his family reminded him why sharing the moments of your life with people you love who love you back was important. Sometimes you just needed a little tap on the shoulder.
He was enjoying spending some time with his brother and his wife, and was looking forward to the cousins all returning to St. Dennis over the weekend, a place he was enjoying as well. The town had a pace of its own, certainly different from Montana, and definitely different from any other place he’d lived in the past. He’d never lived near water before, but he was finding that he liked seeing the sun on the Bay every morning from the window of his room at the Inn. Yesterday, after his trip with Hal, he’d walked back down to the dock and watched the other fishing boats come in, and he’d lingered to listen to the banter of their occupants. There was an easy rhythm to life here in St. Dennis, one he found appealing.
He leaned back in his chair, one arm over the back of Mia’s, and watched her face as she looked up at Beck. There was such love in her eyes, and in the eyes of her future husband. He and Melissa must have looked at each other that way at one time, but he couldn’t remember. There were more and more days when it was harder to recall what her voice sounded like, or what her skin felt like against his. It wasn’t that he was trying to forget her, it was just that life moved forward, not backward.
Someone put money in the old jukebox at the far side of the room, and music began to play. Tables were pushed aside, and several couples-two middle-aged and a pair in their twenties-moved onto the makeshift dance floor and swayed to a song he didn’t recognize. Moments later, an older couple joined them. They appeared to be in their eighties, the woman spry, the man not so much. He moved slowly, his feet shuffling side to side, but he held the woman in his arms and held her gaze lovingly in his. They continued to sway together, the woman looking up at her partner as if he were the only man in the world.
Well, Grady thought, I suppose for her, he is.
The man leaned down and placed a kiss on his wife’s cheek, and Grady looked away. The moment had held such bright intimacy and love, it was almost blinding, like looking into the sun.
That’s what he wanted for Mia, he thought: The kind of love that lasted through all the years and all the changes and all the stages of life.
And for himself? He didn’t think the cards held a great love for him. He’d been more aware of his aloneness tonight than he’d been in a long time. He didn’t feel especially lonely, most times, but just, well, alone. He watched the other dancers on the floor for a few more minutes, his mind drifting along with the music. Another song began to play, this one soft and sensual, and it took his mind to other places. Like back to the dinner table, where his leg had been pressed up to Vanessa’s, and she hadn’t moved it away. He’d been trying to avoid thinking about her, but three truths came to mind, now that she was in his head. One was that he hadn’t felt so alone yesterday, at her house, when they’d shared cookie duty. The second was that he’d been very much attracted to her from the minute he first saw her. Pretending that he hadn’t been hadn’t made it so.
And the third was, if Vanessa had stayed, he’d have asked her to dance.
Chapter 8
WHEN Vanessa strolled into Cuppachino a little before eight on Friday morning, she found a few of the Charles Street merchants already at the table they favored near the front of the room. She waved to them on her way to the counter to order her usual-half decaf, half regular, whole milk, half an artificial sweetener-and joined them after Carlo, the owner, served her in her personal mug. It was brown and had BLING! in pink in the same feminine script as on the sign that hung over the shop’s door and on the shopping bags in which her customers carted home their purchases. Carlo’s wife was a potter, and every merchant in St. Dennis who frequented their shop had their own mug decorated with the name of their business. He kept the mugs lined up on a shelf behind the coffee bar, in order of their geographic location on Charles Street.
“Morning, Vanessa.” Barbara Noonan, the owner of Book ’Em, the book and magazine shop several storefronts down from Bling, moved over to make room for Vanessa. “Grab a chair from that next table and sit for a few.”
“Yes, have a seat,” Nita Perry, whose Past Times sold antiques, chimed in. “Bring us up-to-date on the wedding.”