Kelly McClymer-Must Love Black (17 page)

I laughed, hoping she was joking. With her, you just never could tell.

We felt like the four musketeers, having survived a terrible
battle and celebrated our success with our favorite treat. We even toyed with idea of not telling anyone what had happened. We could always claim we’d taken in a movie, sheltered from the storm. No one needed to know. The truth would only make Mr. P worried and Lady Buena Verde annoyed. In the end, we decided we’d have to tell the truth. “Truth is less trouble than lies,” Rienne said with such heartfelt logic we could only nod and wipe the ice cream drips off our legs.

It turned out that our “outing” had already been noted. While we’d been enjoying the yacht trip and the ice cream, Mr. P and Lady Buena Verde—via the panicked-but-trying-not-to-show-it Laurie—had been calling out the cavalry. Whoops. Our bad. Or at least, Lady BV seemed to think so. I’m not sure where she got the impression we intentionally got caught in a storm and almost drowned. Maybe the spirits were talking to her?

When we got home Mr. P came rushing up, Laurie behind him with her infernal Blackberry, and hugged the twins. Laurie went straight for Geoff, but I couldn’t watch them because I had to answer a barrage of questions from Mr. Pertweath. The girls kept interrupting, but he wanted answers from me. The smiling, easygoing man was gone and in his place was a father who knew how close he’d come to losing his children.

Even if I lost my job, it was satisfying to see them, a knot of three, clinging tightly to one another, talking over one another. Like Mom and Dad and I had been before Mom died. The twins told him all about the adventure as he knelt on the ground for an unscheduled debriefing. I couldn’t help
noticing that the girls were very pleased to have their dad’s full attention for a change.

“The storm came out of nowhere,” Geoff tried to explain, but Laurie grabbed his hand and hauled him away.

She said, “Never mind. You’re late to take our guests on the tour up to Katahdin, and they’re not happy.”

Sheesh. You’d think we’d been safe and warm, enjoying tea and crumpets, while they’d been stranded on a rock.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The man was most abominably maddening. One moment he seemed to hold her in the highest—and to be daringly truthful, warmest—regard. The next? He was flirting with the cook.

—Miss Adelaide Putnam,
Manor of Dark Dreams
, p. 22

Lady Buena Verde turned to me. I tried to slip away, but she grabbed my hands. “I sense you were protected out there.”

“Yeah. Geoff did a great job.”

“Not human protection; I sense a spirit-world intervention.”

I debated whether to tell her that I’d heard my mother’s voice in the wind, just as I was about to give up and let go of the tarp—maybe even stop swimming. But I couldn’t. I shrugged. “You’d know that better than I do, I guess.”

She stared at me, but I did the wide-eyed innocent thing and escaped upstairs to take a quick shower while the twins were still with their dad. I was sandy and salty and pretty frizzed out. I looked in the mirror and suddenly understood
why Geoff hadn’t declared his undying love. Man, I was a mess. I double washed my hair and applied conditioner twice, grateful for the six showerheads so I could fully desalt in sextuple time. By the time I got out of the shower and got dressed, I was presentable again. I was wearing black, after all.

I heard the twins calling for me, too polite to come into my room without an invitation. I came out of the bathroom and called to reassure them, “Here I am. Did you have fun with your dad?”

“Fun? No. But we did tell him all about the adventure.” Triste wasn’t going to give in to the word “fun.” Not that I blamed her. Like I always say, fun is overrated.

I looked at their salted and frizzed hair and smiled. “Off to the showers with you. I think our schedule needs to bend for some serious cleanup.”

Sarah called while the twins were in their showers. “Hey. Guess how many guys I’ve flirted with at one time on the site?”

“Twelve.” I didn’t wait for her to answer, knowing my news would trump hers. “Guess who got stranded on a rock with Geoff when our sailboat overturned?”

“Get out!” I had her full attention. “Spill.”

I told her the important details, ending with the thing that had occupied my mind during the shower. “I wish I knew if he was serious about Laurie or not. He sends such mixed signals.”

Sarah snorted. “Duh. Why don’t you ask him?”

As the nanny, I had a free afternoon once every week. So far, I hadn’t taken it. But Sarah had convinced me I needed to get away. I dropped the girls off at Mr. Pertweath’s office. He’d
really started stepping up and had even signed himself up for the newest session of Camp CSI with the girls. I announced to Laurie that I was taking my scheduled half day off per week, and bummed a ride from Geoff. He was heading into town to get more fencing for Misty Gale, who had escaped again that morning. I intended to drop a little of my paycheck on some cute new sandals and a second swimsuit because the girls and I were swimming every day.

Geoff was so sweet and so hot—and so frustrating—that I just couldn’t stand what it felt like to be stuck in the truck with him without the twins to act as distractions and buffers. Sarah would have shrieked and rolled her eyes up into her head while silently screaming “Ask him.” I couldn’t ask if he was Laurie’s guy. I just couldn’t.

I remembered right before I reached out to turn on the radio that there was no radio. “Do you think we should bring Misty Gale back to the shelter?” I asked. Great subject. Let’s talk about a lonely goat. But I didn’t want to say what I really wanted to know—how much did he like Laurie? Was it just a casual, convenient type of relationship? Did I have a chance with him?

“I think she’ll be okay, as long as she doesn’t destroy something Lady Buena Verde values.”

“What has she destroyed so far? Besides the fence, I mean?”

He looked sheepish. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but she’s munched on some of the plants by the pool, and she took out an entire bush in the butterfly garden.”

“Wow. And you managed to keep that secret?”

“Of course. She doesn’t mean to be a bad goat.”

“How do you know that? Are you the goat whisperer?”

“Would that make you like me?”

Whoa. The conversation had veered off so unexpectedly that I couldn’t speak. Crushes are so inconvenient sometimes. Being tongue-tied was a real bummer when you had nothing else to do but talk. So I pretended he was just a stone. A cute stone, but, hey. “I like you just fine. Who else would take me into town on a moment’s notice so I can fritter away some of my nice big paycheck?”

He was quiet for a moment. But then he laughed and didn’t try to return the conversation to the dangerous topic of how much I liked him. “I know what you mean. Mr. Pertweath pays well.”

“I like the checks. And the shower. And the twins. But the rest . . .” I stopped. “It’s a bit odd, living there.”

He shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“Good to know.” Well, that conversation went nowhere. “So what are you going to do while I’m shopping?”

“I need to pick up some gardening tools. And some fencing for the goat.”

“Thanks for taking care of her. I know she’s been a pain, but she means a lot to Triste.” I’d been wanting to thank him for a while. “Rienne probably wouldn’t mind—” But just then, there was a popping sound and the car swerved and bumped. Geoff quickly pulled over. “Flat tire.”

“Great. I hope you have Triple A.”

He looked at me in surprise.

“What? My dad swears by them.”

He grinned. “I can handle it.”

I watched him change the flat, or at least try. It turned out the spare was uninflated too.

We spent a great hour waiting for the tow truck and avoiding the big conversational no-no: relationships.

“You have the perfect personality for a forest ranger,” I joked. “You don’t need to talk much, so you won’t mind not seeing people for a few days at a time.”

He grinned at me, but he didn’t say anything.

I don’t know if it was the sun, the stress, or the fumes from the cars blowing by us on the road, but I asked the question Sarah would have asked weeks ago. “So. Are you and Laurie serious?”

He blinked. Twice.

And then Laurie showed up right behind the tow truck and ruined it all by taking possession of Geoff and driving us to a small diner to treat us to lunch for our trauma.

We sat with burgers and fries and waited for the car place next door to put a brand-new set of tires on the car.

So much for spending quality time with Geoff. Or getting to town for some shopping. Sarah was never going to believe my failure when she managed to sneak a cell phone call and I filled her in.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Great success requires great risk. Have you what it takes to be great, my lord?

—Miss Adelaide Putnam to Lord Dashwood,
Manor of Dark Dreams
, p. 222

Misty Gale was nowhere to be found. The twins and I looked for her until we had to go in for dinner.

Triste was quietly crying during the search. Every so often she would hiccup softly and say, “I knew she was lonely. I should have stayed out here with her. Now she thinks we hate her.”

Rienne snorted. “She doesn’t think we hate her. She’s just looking for a friend.”

“You don’t know. You never even liked her.”

“I would have liked her better if she gave us milk, but she wasn’t a bad goat. Besides, everybody needs a friend, even a goat. We’re lucky because we have each other, but other people have to make friends.”

I don’t know why her words made me want to cry. Maybe because I knew I’d have to face Geoff and know the answer. Funny thing, I’d finally found one time when I really didn’t want to hurry to get where I was going and it involved a boy and whether he was dating someone. Go figure.

I tried to concentrate on the twins. “She wasn’t a bad goat. But it’s time for dinner; we have to go back. We can look for her tomorrow.”

Triste protested. “But she’ll be so scared out here all alone.”

Rienne argued, “Look, she’s a goat. She’ll be okay for one night. She might even be safer out here than where Lady Buena Verde can get hold of her.”

True enough. Although, looking at Triste’s fresh wash of tears, I didn’t think it comforted her at all.

The girls wanted to see their father. They needed him, and he probably needed them, whether he knew it or not. Before we could enter his office—Laurie, oddly, was not doing her usual guard duty—we heard voices.

“Do you understand the choice you are making?” Lady Buena Verde asked coldly.

“Fully.” Mr. P sounded pretty cheerful for a man at the other end of Lady Buena Verde’s displeasure. “And I only wish it didn’t take a goat to make me realize what I should have known all along.”

“So, the business isn’t important to you, then?”

“Yes, it is.” He sounded completely certain. “But my daughters are more important. Laurie has already taken over several of my jobs and she’s doing fine work. I think it is time we promote her. Don’t you?”

I heard Laurie gasp softly, just a tiny bit louder than the girls’ startled intake of breath.

“Very well. Let it be on your head if the business fails.”

Mr. P didn’t answer because he was too busy hugging two very happy girls who’d burst into his office and run into his arms as soon as they’d understood what he was saying.

Mr. Pertweath told the girls that he’d help them find the goat and he’d get her a companion so she’d stop running away. They’d do it together. I confess I didn’t listen too closely. I let it wash over me the same way I’d let wash over me all the things my dad and other people said to me in the weeks right after my mother’s death.

I jerked back to awareness when Triste asked plaintively, “How do you know we’ll find her?”

Mr. Pertweath didn’t hesitate. “Because your mother is watching over us and she would never let anything bad happen to us. Or our goat. I know it.” He picked up a picture of the four of them when they were a contented family. Only Mr. P was smiling, but I knew the twins well enough by now to know that they’d been fiercely content when that picture was taken. I suspected their mother—whose expression echoed theirs—had been as well.