Safe at Home (Warm Springs Trilogy Book 1) (7 page)

Would the pain ever subside? Would she ever just be able to smile at the thought of her time with him? Theirs had been such a wonderful relationship. A whirlwind from the time it had started. But, it had ended just as suddenly.

Chapter 9

The week passed as usual, with a nice steady flow of customers. As Sam dusted the shelves in the back of the store, the chime sounded. A man and woman appearing to be in their late sixties walked in and began to rummage around. She bided her time before offering help, as the man nodded to his wife about this or that. They didn’t say much to one another, but their actions spoke volumes. The wife bumped him with her elbow when he made a face at her after she pointed to a floral vase. The husband placed his hand on her lower back to guide her around the store. They laughed over a shared memory.

What would it be like to be with someone for so long? Someone who knows everything about you. Someone that has been with you through all the different celebrations and trials of your life.

Shaking her head and bringing herself back to reality, she finished up what she was doing and headed back to the register. The chime rang again and when she looked up, she was surprised to see Spencer. He held a big basket in one hand and a blanket in his other hand as he strolled toward her.

“Hey there,” he drawled.

She grinned in response to his guilty smile. She imagined it was the same one he’d worn when he’d been up to no good as a boy. “Hey, what’s all this?”

“If you’ll let me take you to lunch, I’ll show you.”

Stunned and a little nervous, Sam smiled at him. “Okay, just give me one minute.” She stepped into the back to find Mary. Her stomach was a knot of nerves and excitement since she hadn’t seen him in almost a week.

“Mary?”

“Hello, dear. Is everything okay? You look a little flushed,” Mary asked with a hint of concern in her voice.

Sam’s hand flew to her face. “Oh, I’m fine. I was just going to take lunch, if it’s okay with you.” Sam lowered her hand and tried to steady her nerves.

“Of course it is. I lose track of the time when I’m in the back lost in all the boxes. For some reason, inventory has that effect on me.” She brushed off her lap and followed Sam back to the front of the store. Mary walked with a slight hitch from where she’d broken her knee years ago. Peering toward the door, Mary turned to Sam, “I didn’t realize you had a nice looking man waiting for you.”

“It was a surprise to me, too.” Sam’s gaze traveled to Spencer and her cheeks heated again.

Mary grabbed the stool and pulled it up to the counter next to the register. With a smile on her face, she reached for her phone.

Sam slung her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.”

Mary shooed her toward the door and returned her attention to the phone. “Hey Betsy, you’re never going to believe this.”

Sam paused a moment and then kept going. Surely, Mary wasn’t talking about her. There was nothing in her life now worth gossiping about. She stepped up next to Spencer and let him lead the way.

Spencer rocked back on his heels and gave himself a mental pat on the back. He loved seeing Sam’s eyes widen in surprise at his unannounced visit.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. It’s not far. I know you have to get back to work.” Spencer held the door open and let her pass.

They walked around the buildings and down the long porch that ran the length of the store on the corner. When they reached the little courtyard behind the shops, Spencer jogged down the steps and walked over to the big oak tree. “This is it.”

“Oh.” Sam looked around a little confused.

“Help me spread the blanket out. I figured the oak gives the perfect amount of shade and I know you like the outdoors,” he paused as she simply stood there frozen. “What’s wrong? Haven’t you ever been on a picnic before?” he asked.

“Not in a really long time.” She joined him on the open patch of grass and took one corner of the blanket he held out to her. “I must’ve been eleven the last time I did this. My grandmother took me to a little park near her house.”

That was the first time she’d ever told him something about her family. Encouraged, but not wanting to bring attention to her lapse in cautiousness, he motioned for her to sit and reached for the basket.

“Get ready to taste the best barbeque in all of Georgia.”

“Even better than your ribs?” she teased.

“Well, this is pulled pork,” he held up two sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, “so luckily for Mac, who owns
Mac’s Barbeque
, we can’t compare the two. I wouldn’t want to put him out of business, him being an old family friend and all.”

“I haven’t had pulled pork in a long time, either, but it smells great.”

“What do you mean you haven’t had barbeque in a long time?” Spencer’s head jerked back.

“It’s not as popular up North.” She offered a guilty shrug.

“Not as popular,” he repeated slowly in disbelief, and then he grabbed his chest and fell over to his side. “I think you wounded my heart.”

They both laughed and Spencer sat up and handed her a drink.

“I take it barbeque is one of your favorites?”

“This ain’t just any old pulled pork on a plate. This is Mac’s. It’s the best. And, it’s actually right on the other side of those shops over there.” He spread the food out on the blanket. As she took her first bite, a look of pure pleasure spread over her face and he smiled, pleased. “Now you know where to go to taste a little slice of heaven.”

“Thank you for lunch. This was a really good idea. It beats the cold sandwich I had waiting for me in the fridge.”

“You’re welcome.” A moment of silence passed and then Spencer decided to take the plunge. “So, tell me about Chicago.” He kept his tone light.

There was only a brief hesitation from Sam, and he took it as a good sign.

“What do you want to know? It’s a big city with lots of fine dining.”

“Not as good as Mac’s though, right?” he interrupted.

“Of course not.” She grinned. “There are also shows, you know, stage shows and dance clubs. Lots of charity and political events. We were always going somewhere to shake hands or raise money.” She paused for a moment and twisted her hands together.

He didn’t risk asking who the ‘we’ was because she was talking freely and she never explained, but it didn’t matter. He loved the sound of her voice, the rise and fall of it, without the southern accent, but with an accent all her own. They talked for the rest of the hour at complete ease with one another. Spencer told her about growing up in Warm Springs and riding tractors, and even getting caught racing them once when he was a teenager.

“Well, I guess I better get back to the shop. Mary is probably wanting some lunch, too.” She stood and helped him fold the blanket.

He put it in the empty basket and they headed for the store. On the short walk back over the porch, Spencer felt the need to walk a little slower. He didn’t want their time together to end. The boards under their feet creaked in the same familiar way they had since he could remember, and the cars on the street up ahead passed as usual, but Spencer felt as if he were walking there for the first time.

At the door, Spencer turned to her, “When will I see you again?”

She twisted her hands together again and glanced over her shoulder into the shop. He shifted his feet and looked out over the road. He cursed himself for how he’d asked. He should’ve taken it more slowly. He could see her searching for an excuse to put him off.

Sam stood there taken aback. She wanted to see him too, but it wasn’t a good idea. She enjoyed his company and looked forward to seeing him, which was a complication she needed to avoid.

“I do owe you a meal.” The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. “You could come by the house for dinner this weekend. Saturday, around seven thirty?”
What was she doing? She couldn’t even cook. Why on earth had she invited him over?

He took a minute to mull it over. “That sounds good. Seven thirty then.”

He grinned and turned to go, sending a little thrill through her. Sam tried to hide her smile as she went back inside to finish working. It was starting to feel as if they were dating. And, they most certainly were not. She couldn’t.

She threw her things in the back and returned to the register. Fingers tapping, she stared at the door, willing a customer to walk in. If the store were busier, she could keep her mind from wandering to Spencer. He had looked perfect in his scuffed boots and tight jeans, sprawled out on a blanket with his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled at her from under his Braves hat. The same way he looked perfect without a shirt, swinging a hammer.

Sam took a step back and began to fiddle with jewelry in the case to try to distract herself from her own imagination. She straightened the sliver chain of a necklace with an amethyst flower hanging off the end and moved to a bracelet with a sapphire stone. The light glittered off the deep blue stone and reminded her of Spencer’s eyes. The way they sparkled like he was up to no good and looked at you like you were the only person in the room. It was easy to lose yourself in them. And, his grin. The one that showed a dimple, but only on one side. She shook her head and snapped the jewelry case shut. She knew she was in serious trouble when it came to Spencer.

Chapter 10

She had moved and left no forwarding address. He knew she’d run, the same way he was sure she knew he would come looking for her. They had a special relationship and she couldn’t leave him. Her life belonged to him. She was a fool to think she could outrun him. There was nowhere she could go that he wouldn’t find her.

And, he knew where to go to get answers. He turned the service van into the parking garage and waited for the yellow barrier arm to rise. The attendant pressed the button and waved him through with little more than a glance at the borrowed cable company van.

He licked his lips in anticipation as he rode up the elevator from the garage into the lobby. He was looking forward to the game he was about to play. After all, he did like a good game. His reflection in the elevator’s doors showed the man everyone would see, a man in a repairman’s uniform. Unimportant, ordinary, forgettable. The door chimed and opened to the lobby. A jolt of adrenaline surged through him. He stepped onto the marble floor with his tool box and crossed to the security desk, careful to turn his face away from the camera mounted in the corner to his right.

“Good evening, sir. May I ask who’s called you this evening so I can check our records?” The middle aged man at the desk studied him over the rim of his glasses.

“George Davis in room 812.” He waited while the guard clicked the computer mouse and compared the information.

“Very good, sir. Please use the elevator on the right and go straight up.”

Didn’t he ever get tired of waiting on these people with their money and meaningless little lives? Besides what was the point of having a security guard there? “Tell them what they’ve won, Johnny. Your spacious condo comes with a window and a false sense of security.” It had been so easy to get in. Once around the mail boxes, a simple phone call, and he was on his way.

When the elevator doors slid open on the desired residential floor, he stepped off and headed for the end of the hall. The hall was deserted. The only sounds were his own faint steps on the carpet. After knocking and waiting a moment, he opened his tool box and proceeded to let himself in. He knew her routine, but better to play it safe. He didn’t have time for such inconveniences as nosy neighbors.

He studied her apartment. Clean, no doubt by the hands of someone other than the owner. He felt a sharp pang in his chest as he thought of his mother spending her entire life on her knees cleaning up after these yuppie scums. As the anger began to take control, he took a deep breath and relished in the thought of what he was about to do.

He stepped down into the open living room with its fireplace at one end and overpriced furniture throughout. To the right was the kitchen and on the left, a hallway leading to the master bedroom.

He took his time searching through her personal things before moving to her bedroom, but he didn’t sit on the bed. He didn’t want to leave any evidence. He looked in her closet, smelled her clothes. They stank of money. He let his disgust fuel his rage. Next, he went through the drawers in her dresser and slid his hands over her silky negligee. He sneered at the thought of some man wanting to see that middle-aged cow in something with lace.

The stupid bitch, all the nice things in the world wouldn’t be able to make her tolerable again after he was finished with her. Shutting her lingerie drawer, he moved to the nightstand. It held all the usual things, a flashlight, magazine, lotion and then he saw her address book. He studied it line by line, not only the ‘P’ section, but every letter, until he found an unnamed address tucked in the back. He tore out the page and replaced the book back in the drawer. After he had what he wanted, he moved back to the living room to prepare.

He covered his shoes, clothes, hands, and all of his face except for his eyes. He was pleased when he saw his reflection in the mirror. Solid white. Perfection. Then he heard the sound of her boisterous voice outside the door.

“I would just love to meet you for lunch. We never get to see each other anymore.” Her voice was pouty, like an overindulged child’s.

A key turned in the lock and she was there. “Love you, mean it, bye.” She tossed her cell phone on the counter as she walked to the refrigerator. He knew the instant she saw what he’d done. Her hand froze with a water bottle halfway to her mouth and she spun around in alarm. Confusion was etched in every line of her face as she tried to make sense of what she saw. Her furniture was rearranged, pushed haphazardly to the side and replaced by a large tarp with a chair in the middle. She stepped around the bar and out into the living room.

“Hello, Denise.”

She jumped at the sound of his voice. “Who are you? What are you doing in here?” She backed away, but kept her eyes on him. “I’m calling security.”