“My family vote came out in favor of a raven disguised as a crow.”
She couldn’t have heard that right. “Your family voted?”
Matt shrugged. “Long story. It begins with my birth. Let’s just skip it and move on to me saying that I was nuts to have thought we could talk at Harborside Market.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I think everyone in town is now pretty clear on the fact that you’re not attracted to me.”
“I’m not that good an actor,” he said. “No one believes it.”
Kate bit into her lower lip.
Matt studied her for a beat. “I just admitted I’m attracted to you, and I can’t read your reaction.”
“Flustered,” Kate whispered.
He blew out a sigh. “I get that a lot. Why don’t you give me a quick rundown of what you learned this weekend?”
“Well, first, I learned that Jerry doesn’t seem too devoted to the concept of management once you leave town. He shows up for a little while, tells the staff to follow the usual program and call his cell should something break, burn, or blow up. Then he leaves.”
Matt raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, but he said nothing, so Kate plowed on. She might as well get all the bad stuff out of the way. He’d wanted an unfiltered report, and she would deliver it.
“Well, Steve thinks you’ve got some secret affair with a married woman, but I think he was just saying that to enhance his own romantic life.”
“I don’t think I want to know how that could possibly enhance his romantic life. And for the record, married women always have been and always will be off-limits.”
“I haven’t known you long, but you seem like a stand-up guy to me,” she said. Still, time would tell.
One life skill Kate had been working to develop was a keener eye for dishonesty. She’d missed the early warning signs with Richard, but eventually she’d caught on. Now she was at least marginally older and wiser, both of which rocked. And while she still planned to open her heart and trust, she’d do it with some initial caution. She wasn’t up for another loss of love or poodle.
“Is there anyone else I should know about?” Matt asked.
Kate shook her head. “It sounds like you’re golden with the rest of the staff. I didn’t hear anything, except a passing mention from Laila that her son couldn’t get a job with you.”
“He’d have to apply for a job first, which he won’t, because he likes his winters off from his marina job.”
“I got the feeling Laila believes he has applied.”
“Well, employee applications are confidential, so I won’t be clearing that up,” he said. “That’s it, then?”
“Yep.”
Matt nodded. “Any thoughts on who might have sabotaged the walk-in fridge?”
“That’s tough. It could have been anyone. Laila and Steve were in and out. The cooks were there. And so were the bartender, the busser, and the barback. It could have been Jerry, until he went on walkabout, or whatever it is he does. No one saw it happen and all of them had access. Add to that, it probably happened after hours, which means the back door was open while the trash was being hauled out. The walk-in is on a straight path from that door. It’s highly unlikely that the crew would have missed someone slipping in, but it’s possible.”
“True, but I’d rather believe the nearly impossible than think my own employees would mess with me.”
“I understand. But until someone is caught pulling one of these stunts, everyone’s on the list. And I know this is technically none of my business, but maybe if you shared a little info with your staff when you take off, they wouldn’t pass their free time coming up with the Top Ten Bizarre Reasons Matt Culhane Is Missing.”
“You’re probably right,” he said. “But I shouldn’t have to tell everyone my every last move. For all the time I’m there, I deserve some privacy when I’m not.”
“It was just a suggestion.”
“I know, but I’m used to running my show my way.”
“Sorry. I’m hardwired to just put it all out there.”
“So I’ve noticed,” he said. “I think it might be one of your better qualities.”
They smiled at each other, and she found herself considering how it would feel to close the distance between them on that flowery sofa and kiss him. It would feel good, she thought. Really good.
It was like a dreadful out-of-body experience as she witnessed herself begin to lean toward him like a teenager crushing on a new boy. The lean was immediately followed by panic, and Kate shot to her feet and set the metal bird on the coffee table. “It’s getting late. I’m sure you’re really tired.”
Matt rose and reached out to touch her hair. “I could never be that tired.”
Holy Moses, Kate thought, the panic mingling with flat-out lust.
“Before this goes any further,” he said, “I have something I need to tell you. I’m the guy who owns your mortgage.”
For a moment, Kate thought she’d misheard. “What?”
“I didn’t know it was your house before tonight, I swear. I’m really sorry, but I have a lot of money already invested in this, too, and I made a fair deal with you and your parents.”
“You think it’s fair to take my home?”
“Kate. It’s falling apart and nobody would pay what I’m offering.”
Kate felt her blood pressure hit the stroke zone. “It doesn’t matter what somebody would pay, because it’s not for sale. I’m going to get the money to fix the place somehow, and I’m going to turn this place into a home and a business.”
Matt shuffled his feet and looked into Kate’s eyes. “Look. I’ll give you until Thanksgiving to get caught up on your mortgage. Just ignore the foreclosure papers.”
Kate’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Foreclosure papers! You’re serving me with foreclosure papers?”
“Not anymore. At least, not right now.”
Kate turned Matt around and hustled him to the door. “I don’t have much of a choice. I’ll take the deal. And I’ll see you at work tomorrow. The sooner I find your saboteur, the sooner I get my bonus and the sooner I can pay you. Good night!”
Kate listened to the crunch of gravel as Matt’s car drove off. She hated him for taking her house, but she had to admit he’d been honest with her, and even generous giving her until Thanksgiving. She leaned her forehead against the door and gave up a sigh. The worst part of the whole hideous mess was that she had very friendly feelings for him. Feelings that might be misinterpreted now. She worried that he might have a hard time sorting out her genuine attraction from a cheesy attempt to bail on a mortgage payment.
FIVE
Matt and his three-legged dog, Chuck, had hunkered down to watch the flames dance in the large fieldstone fireplace that anchored the great room in Matt’s log home.
Chuck gave his standard contribution to any conversation: a thump of his tail against a pine floor scarred from his constant quest to discover if the darker knots in the wood might actually be hidden dog treats.
Matt stretched his arms across the back of the brown leather sofa. He took in the family photos that sat on the fireplace’s rough-hewn oak mantel. Chuck starred in more than one of the shots.
Five years ago, Matt had found Chuck tied to a newspaper box outside a gas station. Apparently, someone had stuck him there the prior night and no one had laid claim to him during the course of the day.
Matt liked to think of himself as a practical guy. He’d known that a three-legged hound, no matter how much he otherwise appeared to be bred to hunt, was going to be ornamental at best. But one look at that dog’s chocolate brown eyes and hopeful expression, and there had been no way he could have left him behind.
“That was my lucky day,” Matt said to Chuck. Chuck was a good listener when Matt needed to unload. And Chuck could be counted on for unconditional love any time of the day or night. “I don’t know why I’m letting Kate get to me,” Matt said.
Chuck tilted his head,
probably trying to pick out words he knew, like “food” and “treat.”
“But that’s not what’s messing me up. There’s something more about her. Look at the way she took on Hobart like it was her life goal. And the way she’s straight with me, too. No sugarcoating. I like her. A lot, if you know what I mean.”
Chuck started to snore as he fell into a doze. He had been neutered a long time ago and had absolutely no idea what Matt meant.
Matt’s thoughts turned from Kate to his business problems. As the old saying went, it wasn’t paranoia if someone really was out to get you. The flat tires and messed-up deliveries he’d dealt with, but the open walk-in had cost him some serious money. He had been trying not to take it personally, since whoever was doing this had a certain level of insanity going on, but this was personal.
Matt headed into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out the orange juice jug, only to discover that at some point or another, he’d stuck it back in there empty. At least that way it matched the rest of his fridge’s barren expanse. He left the empty jug on the counter and swore he’d remember to get food tomorrow. Or eat at the restaurant again.
The phone rang and caller ID told him it was Lizzie. Guess she wasn’t through with him for the evening. He could ignore her, but it would do him no good. As a Keene’s Harbor police officer, she’d been known to pull him over when he’d ducked the rest of the family for too long. He picked up the phone. “Hi, Lizzie.”
“You blew out of the house so fast, I didn’t get the chance to give you your ticket for Friday night,” Lizzie said.
Ticket.
Matt didn’t like that word in any Keene’s Harbor context, be it parking or speeding or, far worst of all, admission. And even though this was Lizzie on the phone, he was damn certain that she was referring to the dreaded admission ticket to whatever Friday night benefit was planned at the Brotherhood of Woodsmen’s Hall.
“There’s a fund-raiser for Lester Pankram,” she said.
Matt winced. Lester was a nice old guy, but thrift had gotten the better of him. He’d been driving his tractor along the shoulder of a road when he’d seen a beer can. Hot for the ten cent refund, he’d stuck his tractor in neutral and hopped down. Blind to anything but that shiny can, he’d failed to note the road’s downhill slope and had pretty much run himself over. He’d come out of the incident with a broken leg, the sure knowledge that he’d become a Town Legend, and a Friday fund-raiser that would be held to help cover his medical expenses.
“I’m working Thursday and Friday this week,” Matt said. “There’s a private party at the brewery on Thursday, and we’re always slammed on Friday night.”
He rolled away from the nearly weekly fund-raisers the way Lester should have from his tractor. For some reason, at these events the older folks in town found it amusing to reminisce about the many dumb-assed moves Matt had made as a kid. The talk came with multiple elbows in the ribs, wry winks, and laughing. A lot of the stuff was funny when he heard it the first time of the night, but by the fifth or so time around, he found himself remembering why he’d decided to build his home deep in the woods. And why he liked to send an anonymous envelope of cash to the fund-raiser’s beneficiary.
“Let your staff do what you pay them for, and come to the fund-raiser,” Lizzie said. “You can meet and greet there, too.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“How about you don’t, this time? You skip ninety-nine percent of these things. It makes you look like a hermit.”
He smiled at the gap in her logic. “Only if you can find me to see me.”
“I’m not joking, Matt. This is a town tradition, and we Culhanes have been part of the town forever. Dad wants you there with the rest of the family, even if he’s too proud to say it.”
That was the thing about Lizzie—she’d always known just how to get to his soft spot. She had none of the noise of his other sisters and ten times the efficiency. Matt didn’t want to disappoint his dad. He loved the man, even if he had never been able to pull off working side by side with him.
“I’ll stop by,” he said. “But no way am I staying the whole night.”
“That’s up to you. All I did was commit to getting you there.”
Matt sighed. No doubt another of his siblings had the duty of making him stay.
He wandered out of the kitchen and back to his spot in front of the fireplace, where Chuck slumbered on.
“Anything else?” he asked his sister.
“It would be nice if Depot Brewing dropped off a keg for the event, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
At least then he could be sipping some of his favorite Scottish Ale while being retold the tales of his youth.
“Great. And Matt, pick up Mom and Dad on the way to the hall, okay?”
His mom and dad were fully capable of driving to the hall, not to mention circumnavigating the globe.
“What? You don’t trust me to show up?”
Lizzie laughed. “I just know you.”
“Fine, I’ll pick them up. But so long as we’re horse-trading, do you want to do me a favor?”
“What?”
“When you’re on night patrol, take an extra loop by Depot, could you?”
“Do you want to tell me why?”
“It’s nothing big, just enough small stuff going down that I’d like a little extra attention.”
“Define small stuff,” she said in a voice that was now one hundred percent business.
“One set of flat tires on delivery trucks and an open freezer door. The first definitely took place after hours, and the second, maybe. Either way, an extra drive-by or two would help.”
“Okay, I’ll make sure we swing by more often. There’s not as much to patrol this time of year, anyway. And I’ll see you on Friday, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Matt said.
He disconnected and looked down at Chuck.
“Dude, I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”
Chuck briefly opened one droopy hound eye as though to say “no way,” then cruised back to napland. The canine king would not be deposed.
* * *
IN BED but not sleepy, Kate reached for the phone to pick up her conversation with Ella.
“I just wanted to let you know I was alive,” she said when her friend answered.
“When you didn’t call back right away, I figured maybe you were putting Matt Culhane to one of the better uses God intended.”
“It was briefly tempting, but no.”
“Do tell.”
“I’d rather not,” Kate said. “It wasn’t one of my better moments. How about if we take a look at my big social picture, instead? I remain in social limbo. I need to start getting out and meeting more people.”
“That, I can help you fix. This Friday there’s a fund-raiser at the Woodsmen’s Hall. Why don’t you come along with me? It’s nothing all that thrilling. There’s beer, potluck, and gossip, but it’ll give you a chance to meet a few more people.”
Kate smiled. “I think you’ve just given me incentive to survive the rest of the week at work.”
Including Thursday’s private Halloween-themed party being thrown by Shay VanAntwerp. Jerry had told Kate she’d be doing a lot of detailed prep work for the gathering. Kate didn’t know what that meant, but she expected it wasn’t good.
“Don’t get your hopes up too high about this fund-raiser,” Ella said, then yawned. Too late. Kate was primed.
* * *
WEDNESDAY HAD been little more than a blur of frenzied work as the Depot crew prepared for Shay VanAntwerp’s annual extravaganza. It was now Thursday evening, and Kate was exhausted. She stretched the cramped fingers of her left hand and looked at the jack-o’-lanterns leering at her from tables set up in Depot Brewing’s loading dock area. Wednesday morning, she’d viewed Jerry’s assignment of creating fifty pumpkin carvings as a gift. This was her fun, artsy reward for having become BFFs
with Hobart. For the first dozen works of art, she’d been all about the details, shaving away paper-thin bits of rind for perfect translucent accents. Frankenstein and Dracula came to life, along with a tribute to Stella, her poodle. As she’d worked, Kate had enthusiastically separated pumpkin seeds from guts, thinking that salty roasted treats at each of the party tables would be an ideal accent to Culhane’s fabulous brew. But by the afternoon, her gag reflex had kicked in, and washing slimy mutant gourd seeds had fallen off her list of volunteer activities. She had left work and taken a series of long hot showers, both before bed and after she’d woken this morning. No luck. She still smelled like a giant pumpkin.
By 5:30 P.M., Kate no longer cared how she smelled and her artistic impulses had begun to sputter. No more tiny tools for her, just a nasty, sharp filet knife.
“Almost done?” Laila asked as she entered the storeroom.
“Just three more to go.”
“No time. You’re going to have to put them aside and help set up. The early comers are starting to trickle in.”
Kate looked at her watch, which she’d set on one of the table’s edges to avoid most of the pumpkin carnage. “But the party isn’t supposed to start for another half hour.”
“Free beer tends to make for overly prompt guests.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. All the same, I’d really like a shot at finishing. I swear, with my new minimalist approach, I’ll be done with the last three in a flash.”
“Okay, then. I’ll gather up some help to have the finished ones taken out, and you keep carving. Everything needs to be done before Shay arrives. The good news for us is that she always arrives late,” Laila said, filling a cart with grinning heads and leaving Kate alone in her pumpkin kingdom.
Figuring the time had come to kick the assembly line into high gear, Kate grabbed the big butcher knife she’d borrowed from the kitchen and stabbed it into the top of the first of the three intact pumpkins. It sunk in quickly and deeply. The act was weirdly satisfying. She seemed to be developing a very real disrespect for pumpkins.