Heroes Are My Weakness

  He stopped walking. She was behind him, but the tree cover was sparse, and she prayed he wouldn’t turn around.

  A gust of wind stirred up a ghostly dervish in the snow. He crossed his arms over his chest, grabbed the bottom of his sweater, and pulled it over his head. He wore nothing underneath.

  She gazed at him in astonishment. He stood there bare-chested, the wind tearing at his thick dark hair as he defied the Maine winter. He didn’t move. She might have been watching one of the old television soaps famous for using any excuse to get their heroes out of their shirts. Except it was bitterly cold, Theo Harp was no hero, and the only explanation for what he’d done was insanity.

  He knotted his hands into fists at his sides, lifted his chin, and gazed at the house. How could someone so beautiful be so cruel? The hard planes of his back . . . The muscularity of his broad shoulders . . . The way he stood against the sky . . . It was all so strange. He seemed less a mortal and more a part of the landscape—a primitive creature who didn’t need the simple human comforts of warmth, food . . . love.

  She shivered inside her down coat and watched him disappear through the turret door, his sweater still dangling at his side.

  JAYCIE WAS TOUCHINGLY GLAD TO see her. “I can’t believe you came back,” she said as Annie hung up her backpack and pulled off her boots.

  Annie put on her happiest face. “If I stayed away, I’d miss all the fun.” She glanced around the kitchen. Despite its gloom, it looked marginally better than it had yesterday, but it was still awful.

  Jaycie lumbered from the stove toward the table, gnawing on her bottom lip. “Theo’s going to fire me,” she whispered. “I know he is. Since he stays in the turret all the time, he doesn’t think anybody needs to be in the house. If it weren’t for Cynthia . . .” She gripped the crutches so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “This morning he spotted Lisa McKinley here. She’s been meeting the mail boat for me. I didn’t think he knew about it, but I was wrong. He hates having people around.”

  Then how does he expect to find his next murder victim? Scamp inquired. Unless it’s Jaycie . . .

  I’ll take care of her, Peter trumpeted. That’s what I do. Take care of weak women.

  Jaycie repositioned herself on her crutches, the pink hippopotamus head bobbing incongruously near her armpit, her forehead furrowing. “He . . . he sent me a text and told me he didn’t want Lisa up here anymore. To have them hold the mail in town until he could get to it. But Lisa’s been bringing up groceries every week, too, and what am I supposed to do about that? I can’t lose this job, Annie. It’s all I have.”

  Annie tried to be encouraging. “Your foot will be better soon, and you’ll be able to drive.”

  “That’s only part of it. He doesn’t like kids here. I told him how quiet Livia is and promised he wouldn’t even know she was around, but she keeps sneaking outside. I’m afraid he’ll see her.”

  Annie shoved her feet into the sneakers she’d brought with her. “Let me get this straight. Because of Lord Theo, a four-year-old can’t go outside to play? That’s not right.”

  “I guess he can do what he wants—it’s his house. Besides, as long as I’m on crutches, I can’t go out with her anyway, and I don’t want her out there by herself.”

  Annie hated the way Jaycie kept making excuses for him. She should be smart enough to see him as he really was, but after all these years, she still seemed to have a crush on him.

  Kids have crushes, Dilly whispered. Jaycie’s a grown woman. Maybe it’s more than a crush.

  This is not good, Scamp said. Not good at all.

  Livia came into the kitchen. She wore her corduroy pants from yesterday and carried a clear plastic shoe box–size container of broken crayons along with a dog-eared pad of drawing paper. Annie smiled at her. “Hi, Livia.”

  The child ducked her head.

  “She’s shy,” Jaycie said.

  Livia brought her drawing supplies to the table, hoisted herself up onto one of the chairs, and set to work. Jaycie showed Annie where the cleaning supplies were stored, apologizing the whole time. “You don’t have to do this. Really. It’s my problem, not yours.”

  Annie cut off her apologies. “Why don’t you see what you can do about his master’s meals? Since you let me down with the rat poison idea, maybe you could find some deadly mushrooms?”

  Jaycie smiled. “He’s not that bad, Annie.”

  So untrue.

  As Annie carried dust rags and a broom into the main hallway, she eyed the stairs uneasily. She prayed Jaycie was right and that Theo’s appearance here four days ago had been an anomaly. If he found out Annie was doing Jaycie’s work, he really would find another housekeeper.

  Most of the downstairs rooms were closed off to conserve heat, but the foyer, Elliott’s office, and the dreary sunroom all needed attending. With her limited strength, she decided to make the foyer her priority, but by the time she’d gotten rid of the cobwebs and wiped down the dusty paneled walls, she was wheezing. She returned to the kitchen and found Livia alone there, still busy at the table with her crayons.

  She’d been thinking about Livia, and she went into the mudroom to find her backpack with Scamp inside. Annie made most of her puppets’ outfits, including Scamp’s rainbow tights, short pink skirt, and bright yellow T-shirt with its sparkly purple star. A headband with a floppy green poppy held her crazy orange yarn curls in place. Annie slipped the puppet over her hand and arm, then positioned her fingers on the levers that operated the puppet’s mouth and eyes. She held Scamp behind her back and returned to the table.

  As Livia peeled the paper from her red crayon, Annie took a chair catty-corner to her. Instantly, Scamp poked her head up over the side of the table and peered at Livia. “La . . . La . . . LA!” Scamp sang in her most attention-getting voice. “I Scamp, otherwise known as Genevieve Adelaide Josephine Brown, declare it a beee-u-tiful day!”

  Livia jerked up her head and stared at the puppet. Scamp leaned forward, her wild curls tumbling around her face, and tried to peer at Livia’s artwork. “I love to draw, too. Can I see your picture?”

  Livia, all eyes on the puppet, covered the paper with her arm.

  “I suppose some things are private,” Scamp said. “But I believe in sharing my talents. Like my singing.”

  Livia cocked her head curiously.

  “I’m a wonderful singer,” Scamp chirped. “Not that I share my amazingly fabulous songs with just anybody. Like you and your drawing. You don’t have to share with anyone.”

  Livia promptly pulled her hand away from what she’d drawn. While Scamp bent over the paper to study it, Annie had to rely on what she could see out of the corner of her eye—something approximating a human figure standing near a crudely drawn house.

  “Fab-u-loso!” Scamp said. “I, too, am a great artist.” Now she was the one who cocked her head. “Would you like to hear me sing?”

  Livia nodded.

  Scamp threw her arms wide and began to sing a comically operatic version of “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider” that always brought squeals of laughter from the kindergarten crowd.

  Livia listened carefully, but she didn’t crack a smile, not even when Scamp began changing the lyrics. “Out came the moon and drank up all the grasshopper juice . . . And the itsy-bitsy underpants went crazy all over again. Olé!”

  The singing made Annie cough. She covered it up by having Scamp embark on a wild dance. At the end, Scamp threw herself down on the table. “Being fabulous is soooo exhausting.”

  Livia nodded solemnly.

  Annie had learned it was best when dealing with children to stop when you were ahead. Scamp picked herself up and tossed her head of curls. “It’s time for my nap. Au revoir. Until we meet again . . .” She disappeared under the table.

  Livia immediately ducked her head to see where the puppet had gone, but as she leaned forward, Annie rose, tucked Scamp out of sight in front of her, and crossed the floor to return the puppet to the backpack. She didn’t loo
k at Livia, but as she left the kitchen she could feel the child watching her.

  LATER THAT DAY, WHILE THEO was out riding, Annie took advantage of his absence to carry the trash that had accumulated in the house out to the metal drums that sat behind the stables. On her way back to the house, she looked toward the empty swimming pool. An unsightly collection of frozen debris had accumulated on the bottom. Even in the heart of the summer, the water around Peregrine Island was frigid, and she and Regan had done most of their swimming in the pool while Theo preferred the ocean. If the surf was up, he’d toss his board in the back of his Jeep and head toward Gull Beach. Annie had yearned to go with him but was too afraid of rejection to ask.

  A black cat crept around the corner of the stable and gazed up at her through a pair of yellow eyes. Annie froze. An alarm bell rang in her head. “Get out of here!” she hissed.

  The cat stared at her.

  She dashed toward it, waving her arms. “Go! Go away! And don’t come back. Not if you know what’s good for you.”

  The cat scurried away.

  Out of nowhere, her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away and went back into the house.

  ANNIE SLEPT ANOTHER TWELVE HOURS that night, then spent the rest of the morning working on her inventory of the cottage living room, listing the furnishings, paintings, and objects like the Thai goddess. At the house yesterday, she’d been too busy to do any research, but she’d make time today. Mariah had never depended on dealers to determine the value of what she had. She’d done her homework first, and so would Annie. In the afternoon, she tucked her laptop computer in her backpack and hiked up to Harp House. Her muscles ached from their unaccustomed exercise, but she made it to the top with only one coughing spasm.

  She cleaned Elliott’s office, including the ugly dark walnut gun cabinet, and washed yesterday’s dishes while Jaycie worried about Theo’s meals. “I’m not a very good cook,” she said. “One more reason for him to fire me.”

  “I can’t help you out there,” Annie said.

  Annie saw the black cat again and dashed outside without her coat to shoo it away. Later she settled at the kitchen table with her laptop, but the house’s WiFi system was password protected, something she should have anticipated.

  “I always use the phone Theo gave me,” Jaycie said as she sat at the table, peeling some carrots. “I’ve never had to use a password.”

  Annie tried various combinations of names, birthdays, even boat names with no luck. She stretched her arms overhead to ease her shoulders, stared at the screen, then slowly typed in Regan0630, the summer day Regan Harp had drowned after her sailboat capsized in a squall off the island’s coast. She’d been twenty-two, a new college graduate, but in Annie’s mind, she’d be forever sixteen, a dark-haired angel who played the oboe and wrote poetry.

  The door flew open, and Annie whipped around in her chair. Theo Harp stalked into the kitchen with Livia slung under his arm.

  Chapter Four

  HE LOOKED AS THOUGH HE’D been blown in by a fierce nor’easter. However, the most alarming part of his sudden appearance wasn’t his thunderous expression but the terrified little girl tucked under his arm, her small mouth open in a chilling silent scream.

  “Livia!” Jaycie lurched toward her daughter, lost her balance, and fell awkwardly to the stone floor, taking her crutches with her.

  Annie jumped up from the table and sprang toward him, moving automatically, too horrified by what was unfolding to wait for Jaycie to recover. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  His dark brows knit in outrage. “What am I doing? She was in the stable!”

  “Give her to me!” Annie pulled Livia away from him, but the child was just as frightened of her. Jaycie had managed to push herself into a sitting position. Annie deposited Livia in Jaycie’s lap, then instinctively positioned herself between them and Theo. “Stay where you are,” she warned him.

  Hey! I’m the hero, Peter protested. Protecting people is my job.

  “She was in my stable!” Theo exclaimed.

  His presence filled the cavernous kitchen, taking up all the air. Gulping for a thread of oxygen, Annie planted her feet. “Could you please use your inside voice?”

  Jaycie gasped. Theo’s volume didn’t change. “She wasn’t just standing in the doorway. She was in the stall with Dancer. In the stall. That horse is skittish. Do you have any idea what could have happened to her in there? And I told you to stay away. Why are you here?”

  She ordered herself not to let him browbeat her—not this time around—but she couldn’t match him in ferocity. “How did she get in the stall?”

  His eyes flashed accusation. “How do I know? Maybe it wasn’t latched.”

  “In other words, you forgot to latch it.” Her legs had begun to shake. “Maybe you were thinking too hard about taking your horse out in another blizzard?”

  She’d managed to deflect his attention from Jaycie and Livia. Unfortunately, all his focus was now on her. He flexed his hands, as if he were getting ready to swing a punch. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The puppets saved her. “Language,” she said, using Dilly’s disapproving voice but, fortunately, remembering to move her lips as she said it.

  “Why are you in my house?” He enunciated each syllable in the same unpleasant manner as Leo.

  She couldn’t let him know she’d been helping Jaycie. “There’s no WiFi at the cottage, and I need it.”

  “Find it somewhere else.”

  If you don’t stand up to him, Scamp said, he’ll win all over again.

  Annie lifted her chin. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give me the password.”

  He stared at her as if she’d crawled out of a sewer. “I told you to stay away.”

  “Did you? I don’t remember.” She had to cover up for Jaycie. “Jaycie told me I couldn’t be here,” she lied, “but I ignored her.” She needed to make sure he understood. “I’m not as nice as I used to be.”

  Jaycie made a small noise instead of keeping quiet as she should have, which sent Theo’s attention back to her. “You know what our deal is, Jaycie.”

  Jaycie curled Livia against her breasts. “I tried to keep Livia out of your way, but . . .”

  “This isn’t going to work,” he said flatly. “We’ll have to come up with another arrangement.” And with that lofty proclamation, he turned to leave, as if there was no more to say.

  Let him go! Crumpet urged.

  But Annie couldn’t, and she dashed in front of him. “What bad movie did you step out of? Look at her!” She pointed her finger toward Jaycie, hoping he wouldn’t notice that it wasn’t altogether steady. “You’re really thinking about throwing a penniless widow and her child out into the snow? Has your heart completely turned to stone? Never mind. Rhetorical question.”

  He regarded her with the annoyed expression of someone being buzzed by a pesky mosquito. “What part of this is your business?”

  She hated confrontation, but Scamp didn’t, so she channeled her alter ego. “The part of me that’s a compassionate human being. Stop me if ‘compassionate’ is a word you don’t understand.” His imperial blue eyes darkened. “Livia won’t be going into the stable again because you’re going to remember to lock the door. And your housekeeper has been doing a great job, despite her broken foot. You’ve been getting your meals, haven’t you? Look at this kitchen. It’s spotless.” An exaggeration, so she zeroed in on what she suspected was his weak spot. “If you fire Jaycie, Cynthia will hire someone else. Just think. Another stranger invading your privacy. Poking around Harp House. Watching you. Disturbing your work. Even trying to have a conversation with you. Is that what you want?”

  Even as she drew a wheezy breath, she read her victory in the slight tightening of his eyelids, the vague downward tilt at the corners of his too-beautiful mouth.

  He glanced toward Jaycie, who was still sitting on the floor with Livia cradled in her arms. “I’m going out for a couple of hours,” he said
brusquely. “Clean up the turret while I’m gone. Leave the third floor alone.”

  He stormed out the door with nearly as much force as when he’d come in.

  Livia had her thumb in her mouth. Jaycie kissed both of her cheeks before setting her aside and pulling herself up with her crutches. “I can’t believe you talked to him like that.”

  Annie couldn’t believe it either.

  THE TURRET HAD TWO ENTRANCES: one from the outside and another from the second floor of the house. Jaycie’s difficulty managing steps meant Annie was the one who had to do the job.

  The turret was built on a higher foundation than the rest of Harp House, so its first floor was on the same level as Harp House’s second floor, and the door at the end of the house’s upstairs hallway opened directly into the turret’s main living area. Nothing seemed to have changed since the days when the twins’ grandmother had stayed here. The angular, beige walls served as a backdrop for overstuffed furnishings from the 1980s, pieces that were worn in places and sun-faded from the row of windows facing the ocean.

  A worn Persian rug covered most of the wooden parquet floor, and a beige couch with big rolled arms and fringed pillows sat beneath a pair of amateur landscape oil paintings. A set of big wooden floor candlesticks holding tall, chunky white candles with unlit wicks and dusty tops stood beneath a pendulum clock whose hands had stopped at eleven and four. This was the only part of Harp House that didn’t seem to have regressed two hundred years, but it was just as gloomy.

  She made her way into the small galley kitchen where the dumbwaiter occupied the end wall. Instead of a pile of dirty dishes, the crockery that had been sent up from the main kitchen with Theo’s meals was clean and sitting in a blue plastic dish drainer. She pulled a bottle of spray cleaner from under the sink, but she didn’t immediately use it. Jaycie only cooked dinner for him. What did the Lord of the Underworld eat the rest of the time? She set down the bottle and opened the closest cupboards.