Angel Lane Page 17

  She slammed the door and went and took a bath. Once she was comfortable in her jammies she fetched her quilt in progress, put on her DVD of Sabrina, and settled into her chair to do some basting. And just as the new and improved Sabrina was making her Cinderella appearance at the Larrabee family bash, she pricked her finger.

  “Damn!” She dropped the quilt on her lap. “Damn!” she repeated because the first one had felt so good. Then, possessed by temporary insanity, she shoved the quilt onto the floor and stood up and swore one more time because, of course, the third time was the charm. But it wasn’t. So she hooked a toe under the stupid, who-cared-if-it-ever-got-done-piece-of-poop quilt and kicked it. It lifted like a big bat and fell in folds at her feet. She stepped on it. Then she jumped on it. And stabbed her toe on a pin. She picked it up to rip to pieces with her bare hands and instead burst into tears.

  Still crying, she dropped the quilt, turned off the TV, and went to bed and indulged in a good cry. By the time she was done she had a major headache going. “Stop it,” she scolded herself as she went to the medicine cabinet for aspirin. “It’s just a stray cat. A stupid stray cat.”

  She got into bed and burrowed under the covers. She hoped Pye would be okay. She hoped she would be okay.

  NINETEEN

  It’s my birthday on Saturday,” Damaris announced at the next baking class. She gave invitations to the other girls much like a queen handing out gifts. “You can all come to my party. My mom rented High School Musical Reunion on Netflix. And I’m having a High School Musical cake.”

  “Awesome,” breathed Lissa.

  “And we’re gonna make jewelry,” Damaris continued. “My mom bought beads. You can all bring me High School Musical stuff.”

  “Very considerate,” Sarah said, “helping your friends out with gift ideas.”

  Of course, her sarcasm was lost on Damaris. She was beaming. “Now that I’m ten Mom says I can have a cell phone, and I get to get my ears pierced.”

  “My dad won’t let me get my ears pierced till I’m thirteen,” Lissa grumbled.

  “There’s nothing wrong with waiting,” Sarah assured her. “And thirteen is a great time to get your ears pierced. You have a special way to kick off your teen years.”

  “My mom said she had her ears pierced when she was a baby,” said Damaris.

  Damaris was obviously going to grow up to be a lawyer. She had a comeback for everything. “Okay, ladies,” Sarah said, “let’s talk and work at the same time. Wash your hands and we’ll get started.”

  Handwashing went without incident, but it was all downhill from there. Creaming together eggs, sugar, and butter should have been easy. Mash up butter and sugar. Crack the eggs in a separate bowl to ensure the cookie dough stayed free of shells. Then dump in with butter and sugar. But somewhere between bowls the eggs got lost, slurping down the side of the counter.

  “Way to go,” said Damaris, probably channeling one of her older brothers.

  “It’s okay,” Sarah told Mandy, who was responsible for the mishap and looked teary. “We’ll just clean this up and start again.”

  And that was when the phone rang. Caller ID warned Sarah that it was Betty, but she couldn’t not answer, not when Betty’s granddaughter was at her house. Maybe Betty needed to talk to Beanie.

  “I just picked up some Cheetos,” said Betty. “Do the girls need a snack? Should I bring them over?”

  “Oh, I think we’re fine here,” said Sarah. She’d already filled the after-school empty corners with nachos. Hey, she could be taught.

  “I’ll get more eggs,” said Beanie, opening the refrigerator.

  “I can get them,” said Damaris, crowding in next to her.

  “I’ll get them,” Beanie insisted, her voice rising as Damaris grabbed for the carton.

  “Are you sure?” asked Betty. “Because it’s no problem to drop them by.”

  Now the girls were having a tug-of-war. “Girls,” Sarah said, working hard to stay serene and patient, “just wait to take the eggs out of the fridge till I’m—”

  Splat.

  “Off the phone.”

  “You dropped all the eggs,” Damaris accused Beanie. “Now we can’t bake cookies.”

  “You made me,” Beanie retorted. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Goodwin,” she wailed, looking at the mess on the floor.

  “It’s okay,” said Sarah. “It was an accident.”

  “Is everything okay over there?” asked Betty.

  “I want to make cookies,” Mandy said in a small voice.

  “We will,” Sarah said calmly. “Betty, have you got a couple of eggs I can borrow?”

  “Oh, of course. I’ll be right over,” said Betty.

  Goody.

  “Hey, there’s one that’s not broken,” cried Damaris.

  “I’ll get it,” said Beanie, diving for the egg.

  “It’s okay, girls. I’ll get it.” Sarah went for the egg, anxious to head off a wrestling match on her kitchen floor. Her left foot made contact with something slimy. And slippery. Like a skater in trouble, she windmilled her arms, then went down on her bottom with an oomph to a chorus of squeals.

  Damaris burst out laughing. “Oh, my gosh, Mrs. Goodwin. That was just like on AFV. If we’d taped that and sent it in you could have won ten thousand dollars.”

  Which she then could have used to pay the doctor to put her back together again.

  The doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” said Damaris.

  “It’s my grandma. I’ll get it,” said Beanie, racing after her down the hall. Both were probably tracking raw egg all over the carpet in the process.

  Meanwhile, Sarah had her hands full focusing on getting off the floor. She tried to stand and found a fresh egg-white puddle to slip in. Down she went again. Oh, this was such fun. Who was the idiot who thought it would be a good idea to teach little girls to bake?

  She finally grabbed the counter and hauled herself up with Lissa attempting to help her.

  “Are you okay?” asked Lissa.

  It could have been worse. At least she’d landed on her most padded end. But she had managed to wrench her back. It was going to be a two-Advil night. “I’m fine,” she said, as much to herself as the child.

  “Egads, what a mess.” Now Betty was in the kitchen, holding a carton of eggs and a bag of Cheetos and gawking at the puddle on the floor.

  “We had a little accident,” said Sarah. “But everything’s under control.” Somewhere in the universe this was true.

  Betty looked dubiously at Sarah’s egg-slopped jeans.

  “It’s okay,” Sarah assured her.

  “Do you want me to help you clean this up?” Betty offered.

  “No, no. We’ll be fine. We’ll be back on track in no time.” Sarah took two eggs from the carton and cracked them into the mixing bowl. “Okay, girls. Have at it. I’ll just walk Mrs. Bateman to the door.” She slipped off her egg-drenched socks and started Betty moving toward the front door.

  As they left the kitchen, Sarah could hear Lissa saying, “It’s my turn to work the mixer.”

  “No it’s not,” insisted Damaris.

  “You got to do it last time,” said Beanie.

  “You are a saint,” said Betty.

  Or else she was insane.

  “If the girls need a break, they can have those Cheetos,” Betty said. “Beanie loves Cheetos. And you can keep the whole carton of eggs. Safeway has them on sale. I got two cartons. Oh, they have rump roast on sale right now, too.”

  She was still talking about her grocery bargains as Sarah eased her out the door.

  With Betty finally gone, she hurried back to the kitchen, where suspicious quiet now reigned. She found the girls gathered at the kitchen table, devouring the Cheetos. Well, good. It would give her time to change and clean up the mess on the floor. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and picked up her trashed socks and hurried off down the hall.

  Another ten minutes and the cookie production was once more under
control. Her junior bakers enjoyed looping the ropes of pink- and plain-colored dough into candy canes, and were pleased with their works of art. Damaris’s father was actually on time to pick her up, mainly because they ran ten minutes over. He took Beanie, too, sparing Sarah from another never-ending conversation with Betty. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief as she waved George and the girls off, and then returned to put her kitchen back together.

  “One more class,” she told herself as she wiped down the counters. She sprinkled cleanser into the kitchen sink and scrubbed it out. Then she washed the counter on both sides and took a swipe at the windowsill, moving her knickknacks around. And that was when she noticed that her little vintage Hen on the Nest was missing.

  She stood a moment, looking at the empty spot where it had been only . . . when? A day ago? A week ago? When had it gone missing? And how?

  She thought of the times in the last couple of weeks that a certain child had been left unsupervised in her kitchen, remembered her conversation with the girls about her collectibles, and her eyes narrowed. She was going to kill that kid.

  Except she had no proof that Damaris had taken her little hen, and, really, no way of finding out. She supposed she could confront Damaris, but if she did, the child would simply deny having taken it.

  She could call the girl’s mother. And Damaris would still deny having taken it. It was probably well hidden by now.

  It looked as if Sarah would have to let this go, but she sure didn’t want to. She had a silly sentimental attachment to that little chicken. “That will teach you,” she scolded herself.

  She took the salt and pepper shakers and stowed them in the top shelf of her dish cupboard, vowing not to leave her kitchen unguarded again. Next week would be the last baking class. And the last time she did something like this. Ever.

  “Damaris’s party is today,” Lissa reminded her father Saturday morning. “You said we’d get a present.”

  He’d forgotten. In fact, he’d forgotten all about the party. Kid parties and presents for kid parties, he’d always thought that sort of thing would be handled by his wife. Well, that was Plan A. When Crystal died a lot of things got refiled under Plan B.

  “Let me just finish my coffee.” He’d need the caffeine.

  He remembered the days of accompanying Crystal to the mall. Talk about an activity designed to sap the energy right out of a guy. Crystal had loved to shop. And compare bargains. And try on clothes. And make her poor man sit outside the dressing room holding her purse. He’d tried any number of ways to cope: bringing along a Tom Clancy novel, reciting baseball stats, watching for potential shoplifters. Nothing really helped. Shopping was for women. But a man in love did what he had to do.

  Lissa had inherited her mother’s shopping gene. Josh poured himself another cup of coffee.

  “Daddy!”

  “Okay, okay.” He transferred it to a travel mug and followed the girls out the door with Lissa in the lead. A man did what he had to do.

  An hour later they had combed Vern’s for High School Musical paraphernalia and come up empty-handed. There had been plenty in August, the clerk informed him, but they’d had a run on the notebooks and pencil boxes at the beginning of the school year, and once school supplies were gone at Vern’s they were gone until the next school year. You snooze, you lose.

  “Hey, how about this?” Josh suggested, picking up a game.

  Lissa made a face. “Daddy, that’s boring.”

  “Since when is Operation boring?” Josh demanded. They’d played it just a few months ago.

  She didn’t answer him. She was too busy examining the wares in front of her. Judging from the frown, none of them were measuring up.

  He picked up some kind of Barbie doll. “How about this?”

  “She doesn’t play with dolls.”

  “I want that,” said Mandy. “Can I have it, Daddy?”

  “Sure,” he said, and wondered how much other stuff he’d get suckered into buying before they got around to getting birthday presents. “Come on, Liss, there must be something here.” At the rate they were going the party would be over and they’d still be standing in the toy aisle deciding on a present.

  “There’s nothing,” Lissa said in disgust.

  Josh scratched his chin, hoping for inspiration. None came. If they were shopping for a boy they’d have been done by now. He’d have gotten that cool Airzooka or the ant farm.

  Lissa turned from the toy aisle and Josh trailed her, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, Mandy.”

  Mandy reluctantly put back the coloring book she’d been looking at and joined the parade.

  They passed an aisle already brimming with Christmas things and Mandy snagged a little snow globe with a Santa inside it. “I want to give this to Damaris.”

  “That’s nice,” he said. Good. One down, one to go. “See anything here?” he asked his oldest daughter hopefully. “There’s a lot of cool candy.”

  Mandy fell for it. She picked up an M&M’s novelty candy dispenser complete with candy. “I want to give this to her, too.”

  “Okay, that should do it for you,” Josh said after looking at the price. Someday, before they got much older, he’d have to explain to the girls about budgets.

  Meanwhile, Lissa was striding down the aisle like a girl on a mission. She didn’t stop until she got to the makeup section. There she began to pull bottles of nail polish off the shelf.

  Nail polish? “How old is this kid?” Josh asked.

  “She’ll like this,” Lissa said, ignoring his question and adding a bottle of blue polish to the black, red, and pink ones she already had.

  What did he know? “Okay.”

  Lissa would have opted for a dozen bottles of polish, but he stopped her at five. The stuff wasn’t cheap.

  “Hey, guys, we did good, huh?” he asked, checking the rearview mirror as they drove away.

  “Yep, we did,” agreed Mandy, who already had her new doll out of the bag and was looking at it.

  Lissa sat regarding her purchase, frowning. “It’s not very much.”

  “At thirty bucks? It’s plenty.”

  “Everyone else is going to be giving her High School Musical stuff,” Lissa said.

  “Well, Liss, we can’t help it if there isn’t any left in the store,” Josh said reasonably.

  “Can’t we go to the mall?” she begged.

  “I want to go to the mall,” said Mandy, always up for more fun.

  Josh checked his watch. “I’m not sure we’ve got time.” He looked in the rearview mirror to see how Lissa would take the news.

  She looked downright despondent. Her present hadn’t measured up, even though she’d tried. That was pretty much his fault. He should have remembered about the party, had Dad take the girls to the mall where Lissa could have scoured the stores till she found something she’d been really happy with. That was what Crystal would have done. Damn. He should have remembered about the party.

  They were at the four-way stop at the end of Lake Way now. To the left and down that road lay Valentine Square, and a certain chocolate shop. “Want to get her something from the Chocolate Bar?” Josh suggested. No hidden agenda there.

  Lissa brightened. “Yeah.” She hopped out of the car as soon as Josh had parked and ran into the shop ahead of him, Mandy hot on her heels. She and Jamie were already deep in conversation by the time he walked through the door.

  Jamie reminded him of the doll he’d bought Mandy: slim, pretty, dressed to kill. It was only a sweater and jeans, but the way they showed off what was under them was killing him. Her hair was pulled back and little gold earrings glinted in her ears.

  She smiled at him. Was it just a friendly smile or was there a hint of wanting in there somewhere? He couldn’t be sure. At least she wasn’t frowning at him. And no nervous hiccups. That had to be progress.

  He flashed his best grin at her. “Did you hear? We’ve got a present emergency.”

  “I did, and I think I can help you. It’s go
ing to take a few minutes, though.” She slid three cups of hot chocolate across the counter. “Here’s something to drink while you wait.”

  “Thanks,” he said, and took it.

  “Thank you,” said Lissa, smiling as she reached for her drink, and her sister echoed her.

  Josh took one look at the little tables and chairs and opted to remain standing. So did the girls. They hovered by the counter, watching with big eyes as Jamie nested the bottles of nail polish and a variety of truffles in metallic white shredded paper inside a gold gift box.

  She wrapped the box in gold ribbon, then slid it across the counter to Lissa. “There you go.”

  “It’s so pretty,” Lissa breathed.

  “I think your friend will like it,” Jamie said.

  “What if she doesn’t?” Lissa worried.

  Jamie shrugged. “Then she’ll pretend, because real friends try hard not to hurt each other.”

  A good bit of wisdom thrown in as a bonus. It sounded like something Crystal might have told their daughter.

  “Thanks,” said Josh, stepping up to the cash register. “What do I owe you?”

  “Five dollars.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That barely covers the drinks.”

  “The drinks are on the house.” Josh tripled the amount, but she shoved the extra bills back at him. “Don’t be ruining my good deed again or I’ll have to report you to the Heart Lake Angel Patrol.”

  He gave up and gave the counter a playful rap. “Okay, thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “All in a day’s work for a chocolate superhero,” she said.

  He was tempted to ask if chocolate superheroes ever changed into average small-town girls and went on dates on a Saturday night, but asking her in front of Lissa didn’t seem like a good idea, so he kept his mouth shut and ushered his daughters out of the candy shop. And once he was out in the cold, fresh air and could think clearly he remembered that asking her out wouldn’t be a good idea. Period. Jamie was not in the market for a man, at least not the law-enforcement variety. Much as he would love to serve and protect her twenty-four/seven, he’d be crazy to let himself keep falling for her.