Picket Fence Surprise

But they tended to fall into two groups: the ones who would close down the bar, and the ones who had to book off to get home to their families. He wasn’t either of those. And since he didn’t want to end the evening feeling either ancient or jealous, he opted to pass.

Instead, he sent Darcy a text. Going out for a ramble. Want me to take Lulu?

Her reply was swift: Perfect timing. She’s been whining at the fence all day, and I have to meet the florist. Come and get her.

Darcy had barely opened the door when Lulu bounded out of the house and ran in excited barking circles.

“Easy girl! Easy!” He squatted and scratched behind fuzzy ears. “You been driving Darcy crazy today?”

“Put it this way—we’re both ready for a little bit of time away from each other.” Her smile took any sting out of the words. “Ian already took Cady over to his mother’s. They’re having high tea, I believe. I’m supposed to meet them there after I’m done.”

“You mean Ian doesn’t have to sit through flower discussions? How’d he get so lucky?”

“Oh, trust me, he’s not getting a free ride. He got stuck figuring out the seating arrangements.” She tipped her head conspiratorially. “With both his mother and mine.”

“And he was still willing to go through with the wedding? Damn, Darce.” He whistled. “Now that’s love.”

She laughed and waved him away. “Go on. Lulu is going to claw the paint off your car if you don’t get moving.”

He retreated, opened the door for the whining, wriggling dog and hit the road. Fifteen minutes later, he bounced his way down a rutted, overgrown path and pulled up behind a bank of aging willows. He killed the engine, hopped out, stretched and opened the door for Lulu.

“There you go, girl. Stay close.”

She barked and bounded away. Probably hunting for squirrels, not that she would know what to do with one if she caught it. He watched her run for a minute, leaning against the car and letting the peace soak into him. Funny. At home, silence made him itchy, but it had the opposite effect out here in the boonies.

After a couple of minutes spent with his face tipped up to the sky and happy barks echoing in his head, he opened the trunk, grabbed his camera and headed for the sagging buildings beyond the willows.

He’d stumbled across this place by accident soon after he moved, when he got lost while trying to see the sights around his new home. He hadn’t ventured off the road that time. But something about the droop of the roof and the way the outbuildings were falling into piles of brick and stone had stuck in his memory. The next time he saw Ian—who had spent the bulk of his life in Comeback Cove—he asked about it.

“Sounds like the old Cline place,” Ian had said. “It’s been empty since I was in high school. Maybe even longer. It used to be the place to go on a dare. Or a date when you really wanted to impress someone with your bravery.”

Was it any wonder that Xander felt compelled to explore it after that?

The first few times he came out here, he hadn’t had an agenda. He’d simply wanted to get a feel for what it used to be like, to see what years of emptiness could do to a building. He always stayed outside, walking the perimeter, cupping his hands to peer through dust-coated windows. It looked as though even the teenagers had given up on the place. Raccoons and rodents seemed to be the primary occupants these days. He was, undoubtedly, a fool to continue poking around.

But he could never quite forget it. Especially after he started taking pictures that showed the layers of time between the house and the present—cobwebs over brambles over grasses—or those that captured spots where a listing step was bookended by wild roses.

Mesmerizing.

Yeah. Heather had nailed it. He was fascinated by the place, both in person and in pictures. It seemed to whisper to him, words only he could hear. Words and pictures of secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Xander had always been a sucker for secrets.

Camera in hand, he strode toward the house, taking care to whistle and make a healthy abundance of noise. Lulu’s barking had probably already alerted any critters to his presence, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He might be nosy, but he wasn’t a complete idiot.

“Hey, house. Mind if I have a look around?”

He had never ventured deeper than the front porch. That was close enough to poke his camera through the empty windows and get shots of lonely interior rooms. Once he’d stumbled over a nest of newborn mice, and one time his flash had sent something deeper into the shadows, scaring the crap out of him, but the pictures were worth the fright. After all, it wasn’t like he was facing down big game. He was more likely to go through a rotten board than to come face-to-face with any living danger.

Don’t go again, okay?

He wondered if Heather had noticed that he hadn’t answered.

He made his way up the now-familiar path to the tilted porch, stepping cautiously around weeds and rocks. The sound of panting from behind him made him pause, but only for a second.

“Back already?”

Lulu wagged her tail.

“Fine by me. I always did like your company.”

He made his way around the side of the porch. He knew the shot he wanted—the aging maple against the overgrown field, framed by the once-sturdy rail and ceiling of the porch. It took a few attempts from a handful of different angles, but he finally got one that came close to what he had in mind.

When he was done, he shot off a few more. Lulu rolling on the grass. A spiderweb stretched across a window. The patch of sky visible through a jagged hole in the porch roof.

But when he was done, he found himself staring at the overgrown door of the abandoned house.

He could still hear Heather’s hushed voice as she leaned closer to the photo of that entry.

Mesmerizing.

And some stupid part of him, some stubborn streak that refused to listen to sense and reason, kept wondering what would happen if he were to open it.

* * *

ONE WEEK LATER, Xander peeked at the clear blue of the sky, decided the weather forecasters had totally miscalled it when they predicted rain and grabbed the diaper backpack.

“Cady girl, it’s a summer afternoon, it’s sunny and I think we should blow off the rest of the chores and go play by the river for a while. Let’s go for a ride.”

Lulu’s ears perked up.

“Not this time, Lu. We’re biking it.”

Lulu whined and sank back to the floor, resting her head on her forepaws while giving him the evil eye.

“Damn it, dog, now I feel guilty. Here. Have a treat.” He stopped stuffing snacks into the backpack long enough to grab a dog biscuit from the box and toss it her way. She nudged it with her nose.

“Cookie?” Cady asked. “Cady have cookie? Pease, Daddy?”

God, he was such a sucker for that little voice. “One lion. Rawr.”

“Rawr!” she echoed while bouncing up and down.

With all his charges suitably bribed, he popped the diaper bag over one shoulder, scooped Cady onto the other and gave Lulu a nod.

“Make sure you scare the burglars before they toss you a steak.”

Fifteen minutes later, helmeted and laughing, they were zipping down the road as fast as Xander dared with his precious passenger. This was the life. Sunshine on his back, his kid giggling in his ear, sweet freedom all around. It didn’t get much better than this.

At least that was what he told himself as they flew past the turnoff to Heather’s place.

They bypassed the public beach—too many tourists this time of year—and landed at a little inlet where some of the locals liked to launch their fishing boats. It had stones to throw and sand to sift and the perfect blend of sunny openness and shady trees. Cady found a plastic bucket that someone had left behind and spent an hour hauling water back and forth from the river, pouring it into the channels that Xander dug with a stick. They chased birds and stacked stones, and Xander lost count of how many pictures he snapped before they retreated to the picnic table under the trees for a well-earned snack.

“Talk about a perfect afternoon, huh, Cady bug?”

Before she could answer, the sky let loose with a distance but unmistakable roll of thunder.

“Holy—”

He ran out from beneath the trees and looked up. Sure enough, storm clouds were rolling in from upriver. They looked nasty.

And here he was, half an hour’s ride from home.

He threw everything into the backpack, jammed helmets on heads and got Cady buckled into place in record time. If luck was on his side, they might just make it.

They hit the road.

The wind kicked in, pushing against him, slowing his pace.

The skies darkened. A drop of rain landed smack in his eye.

Cady whimpered in his ear.

“Hang on, kiddo. We might—”

Thunder broke through his words, a sudden crash that had him cursing and Cady shrieking. They weren’t going to make it home in time.

He glanced over his shoulder, checked the road and hit the turnoff to Heather’s.

Five long minutes later he wrestled a crying Cady out of her seat and sprinted for the door as the rain started in earnest. If Heather wasn’t home, he might have to break in and pray the place wasn’t alarmed. Heather would understand. Police, not so much.

He rang the bell, pounded on the door and huddled over to protect Cady from the wind. When Heather opened the door, he could have kissed her.

Purely in gratitude, of course.

“Oh my gosh! Come in, get in, are you guys okay?”

Heather fussed around them, asking for details and offering towels and doing her best to make a mother hen look neglectful. She was so busy bustling and exclaiming over the sudden slash of rain against the windows that it took a couple of minutes for Xander to notice the splotches of color decorating her face, arms and shirt.

“What’s this?” He pointed to a particularly large spot on her arm. “Are you trying out for a part in the next Dr. Seuss book?”

Heather swiped at a blotch of purple on her nose and grinned. “Sorry. Millie and I are in the middle of a project.”

“What are you—”

“Cady!” Millie clattered down the stairs, arms outstretched. “What are you doing here?”

Heather gave the condensed version while Xander eased Cady down to the floor and assessed the damage. Other than a few damp spots from the first bits of rain, Cady was relatively dry. His shirt was wet in the shoulders, but the backpack had done double duty today.

“Mom, can I take Cady out to the fun porch?”

Heather placed a palm over one of the purple spots on Millie’s shirt. “I guess you’re dry enough. Wash your hands first, though, and don’t let Cady get into your chemistry set.” She glanced at Xander. “Okay with you? I don’t think you’re going anywhere on a bike for a while.”

He winced as lightning flashed through the windows. “Hate to crash into your afternoon, but I think you’re right. Go ahead, Cady. Go with Millie.”

As soon as the girls departed, hand in hand and already giggling, he looked at Heather. “Did she really call it a fun porch?”

“Yep. Technically, it’s a three season room, but that’s where she keeps her art and science supplies, so, you know. Fun porch.” She waved at the stairs. “I need to clean up a bit, but do you want some coffee or tea or anything?”

“I’m good, thanks. But I’m dying to know what kind of project means you need to have—” he took advantage off the opportunity to look her up and down, giving thanks for every blotch that required scrutiny “—seven different shades of purple. Or is that one pink?”

Heather pulled her shirt away from her stomach and held it tent-style, frowning at the spot in question. “I think that one is Blushing Rose.”

“Good name.” Good color, too. He didn’t dare do an in-depth comparison, but he was pretty sure it was the same color as Heather’s lips, now tipped in a half smile more intriguing than that of the Mona Lisa.

“We’re going to paint Millie’s room, but she wasn’t sure what color she wanted, so we’re trying them on the walls. To see how they look in the light, and all that.”

“Gotcha.” And then, because he could hear Millie and Cady laughing and the evening was still early and he wanted to see this new facet of Heather, he said, “Can I see it?”

“Sure. Come on upstairs.” She turned in the direction of the childish laughter. “Millie, I’m showing your room to Mr. Sorenson.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“You know,” he said as he followed Heather up the stairs, lagging behind a step or two to better absorb the sight of her hips swaying as she climbed, “she doesn’t have to call me Mr. Sorenson. That makes me feel like my grandfather.”

“What should she call you? Xander? I don’t think so.”

“How about Mr. X?”

She burst into delightful ripples of laughter as she led him down a narrow hall made even skinnier by the bed frame and mattress piled along the walls. “Very mysterious.”

“Yeah, that’s me. One secret after another.” He ducked and entered a small room tucked beneath the roof. Too many slopes for his comfort, but they were countered by large windows on two sides—one looking out over a row of pines, the other over the river.

He let out a whistle. “I’m guessing that when it isn’t pouring, those are great views.”

“Yeah, I love this room. I told Mills she’s lucky it’s too small for my bed. Otherwise I’d have to wrestle her for it.”

He focused on the circles and swirls of color dotting the once-cream walls while she gathered brushes and buckets. “So these are the contenders?”

“Yep. You can see that with all the angles and corners in here, we wanted to try it in different places.” She gestured to indicate the entirety of the room. “Good thing, too. Millie’s favorite was the deep purply-blue, but over there, it’s way too dark.”

“Agreed.” He stepped back and squinted at the blotches, turning in a slow circle. Could he tell the difference between most of them? Not really. But one color did stand out from the others. “Me, I’d go with that one.” He pointed to the pinkish blob by the window before finding its counterpart in the darkest nook. “Everything else gets pretty gloomy back here, but that...”

He stopped as he realized he’d chosen the color that Heather had called Blushing Rose, the one that was a perfect match for her lips. A man could drown in that color. He shook himself. “It’s...you know. Cheery.”

“I see what you mean. You have a good eye.” She grinned. “Though I guess I knew that already. At least when it comes to résumés.”

Yeah, his eye was good all right. Especially when it came to picking out a pretty women with a smile that shot straight through him and made him think of things he had no business thinking about.

“Speaking of your résumé, how are you doing with—what was it that came next? A presentation?”

“Right. I have to present my ideas at the interview. And I’m having a blast pulling it together.”

“Maybe tourism is a better fit for you than you thought.”

“Maybe.” She flicked off the light and led him into the hall. “It’s been a while since I got to tap into my creative side. I still have to do the analytics, but I’m having way too much fun designing mock-ups of web pages and brochures.”

“Can I see them?”

“Really?”

“Sure.” He took the bucket from her hand, allowing himself one fleeting moment of contact. “I feel like I have a stake in this, too.”

“I guess you do. Maybe Millie should call you Mr. Headhunter.”

He’d been called worse.

She took a side trip at the bottom of the stairs and hovered at the door to what must be the fun porch, given the number of toys and bins stacked on the shelves. Millie and Cady sat on the floor, happily applying stickers to each other’s faces and arms.

“Oh God,” Heather said, but there was no true dismay in her voice. “And I thought the paint was bad.”

“Stickers come off easy.”

“Here’s hoping.” She raised her voice. “Mills, no more decorating the guest, okay?”

“’Kay, Mom.”

Cady leaned across the basket of stickers and carefully placed one over Millie’s mouth before breaking into giggles.

Xander was pretty sure he should say something parental. “Cady, don’t be mean to your...um...semicousin.”

Something that sounded like strangled snorts emerged from behind Millie’s mouth covering.

“Come on,” Heather said with a laugh. “Let’s get out of here before they start slapping stuff on us.”

She led him to the living room, pausing at a coffee table piled high with books, papers and art supplies. In contrast to the rest of the house, the only word to describe it was chaos.

“How do you find anything in that?”

“Easy. I know where everything is.” She shot him an impish grin. “Now turn around while I demonstrate how well I know the locations.”

He snickered but did as requested, rotating to face a line of photos marching across the top of a bookcase. Since he’d been banished, he figured he might as well take advantage of the opportunity to do some snooping in plain sight.

The bulk of the shots, of course, were of Millie. He saw her in a number of poses: dressed up as a mad scientist, wearing a parka and a red reindeer nose, showing off a front-toothless grin. There were some of Millie and Heather together, usually in a garden. One of Heather with a group of women he would bet were her coworkers. And one of Millie, Heather and a gaunt man who shared Heather’s caramel hair and Millie’s slightly pointed chin.

“Is this a brother?”

He felt, rather than saw, her approach from behind. “Yes. Travis.”

“Older or younger?”

“Three years older.”

There was a guarded quality to her responses that had his curiosity piqued. “Where does he live?”

“It varies.”

That was a “go no further” answer if ever he heard one. He risked a sideways glance and saw that she was holding herself rigidly, arms clasped tight over a notebook squashed against her chest.

Lucky book.

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to give you the third degree.” He pointed to the shot of her with a group of women. “Are these people you work with?”

“Used to. They’re in the Vancouver office. And it’s okay, you weren’t prying. It’s just...” She fingered the edge of the book. “Travis...my brother...the thing is, the only time I’m sure where he is, is when he’s, um, in jail.”

Holy shit.

Two things struck him at once. The first was that now he got why Heather never flinched when he mentioned his time in the slammer.

The second was that this was the first time he’d ever seen her uncomfortable. And he wasn’t quite sure why. Surely she knew that he, of all people, wasn’t about to judge her brother.

“He have a long history with the prison system?”

“Since he was a teenager.”

Long enough.

“I didn’t run into him, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

“I—oh. No. I hadn’t thought about that.”

Yeah, she had.

“We don’t talk a lot. That was the last time I saw him.” She nodded toward the photo. “It’s the only time he met Millie. He always wants to know about her, though. I guess in most ways he’s your typical adoring uncle.”

“Can’t blame him.”

Her smile was small but grateful. “He does his best,” she said softly, and Xander was pretty sure she wasn’t talking about Millie anymore. At least, not Millie alone.

“I don’t have any brothers,” he said, trying to ease the tightness around her eyes. “Just Bethie, and she’s almost seven years older than me.”

“So you were the baby. Were you the prince?”

“Nah. I was too much of a troublemaker for that. Mostly I was the easy target when Beth didn’t want to own up to something.”

“That, I can believe.”

A squeal from the other side of the house caught his attention, but as it was followed by a shriek of laughter, he was pretty sure Cady was fine. “How about you? Were you the princess?”

She snorted. “Oh please.”

Yeah, he didn’t think so.

“So do I get to see your work now?”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” Heather rolled her eyes and thrust the notebook in his direction. He took it automatically. Awkwardly, too, as he’d been so busy not letting himself look right at her. She pulled back a bit too fast, he grabbed again and his hand ended up closing over her wrist.

For a second they stood frozen, his fingers circling her wrist and her eyes wide. He saw surprise on her face, yes, but more. There was uncertainty and a hint of what sure looked like pleasure to him.

Though maybe that was just his own emotions reflecting back at him.

“Heather,” he began, only to be cut off by the shrill tone of the doorbell.

Heather startled and stepped back.

“The pizza!” That came from Millie, who had to be setting a new land speed record for racing from one end of the house to the other. Cady followed in her wake.

“Pizzi! Pizzi! Daddy! Pizzi!”

Heather patted her pocket. “I can’t believe I forgot. I placed the order before we started painting, just in case we got caught up in it, but I totally lost track of time and...”

She was nervous. Because he had touched her? Because she didn’t want him touching her, even by accident?

Or could it be the same reason his own senses had jumped to long-deprived life the moment his skin made contact with hers?

“Mom! Are you gonna come pay? Because I’m hungry.” Millie appeared, clutching the pizza box in front of her. “Mr. Sorenson, you and Cady can sit at the table while Mom pays. And maybe you could help me get some, because I always grab the piece with the cheese that stretches and stretches and never breaks, so it pulls off the piece beside it. Do you like cheese? If you don’t, you can have the piece that gets wrecked.”

“Thanks, Millie, but Cady and I should get going.” There. Contrary to what his grandmother had always insisted, he did have some manners.

“Seriously, Xander.” Heather appeared at his elbow, tucking a credit card into her pocket. “Pull up a chair. Cady can eat pizza, right?”

As if on cue, Cady slapped his thigh. “Daddy? I hungy.”

“It’s still raining.” Millie pointed to the window. “And we got a big one so I could have leftovers for lunch, but there’s still enough for you to have some as long as you’re not too hungry.” She frowned, eyes narrowing behind her glasses. “You’re not super starving, are you?”

“Millie!”

“Not at all.”

“Good. Then we’ll have enough. You sit there.”

Heather shook her head. “You might as well give in, Xander. There’s no escape.”

“In that case, let me get my little monkey cleaned up, and we’ll be glad to join you.”

He swung Cady onto his shoulder and carried her to the sink, pausing for a second to wink at the rain hitting the windows.

Thanks, Mother Nature. I owe you one.

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