Seeing is Believing (14 page)

Her hands fell onto her stomach and she grinned. “Pregnant. That’s how I am.”

“I heard that from Gran. Congratulations.” She looked good, her cheeks rosy, her hair glossy, her body unchanged except for the rounded tummy, defined clearly by a black T-shirt. She wore lots of noisy jewelry and there was a tall, dark-haired man behind her.

Marge hit Brady with her ticket pad. “I’ll be back in a sec, hon. Going to get Mrs. Johnson her egg salad before she births a cow.”

“No problem. Thanks.” Brady stood up so that he could reach out and shake the hand of the man who was clearly her husband, his hand on the small of her back. “Brady Stritmeyer. Abby and I went to school together.”

“Darius Damiano, Abby’s husband. Nice to meet you.”

The guy who was a millionaire. Abby had done well for herself, especially given the protective and awed way her husband looked at her.

Abby was the same as ever. “My husband’s hot, isn’t he?” she said with a grin.

“Absolutely,” Brady assured her with a grin.

Darius rolled his eyes. “Thanks, babe. So what brings you to town, Brady?”

“I’m visiting my family.”

“We should have you and Piper over for cocktails. Well, no cocktails for me. But for you three.”

Brady started. How did she know anything about Piper?

Her hand flew over her mouth and she realized his reaction. “Oh, shit, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Said what?” Darius asked.

“About him and Piper. It just came out. But it’s too soon yet. I jumped the gun.”

“How do you know anything about me and Piper? Not that there is a me and Piper.” Brady felt thoroughly pissed. Had Shelby been talking? He looked around the diner, suddenly wondering who knew what about his personal business. That was something he definitely didn’t miss about small-town life.

“Are you talking about Bree and Charlotte’s babysitter? Isn’t she kind of young?” Darius asked.

That was helpful. Not. Brady scowled at Abby’s husband.

“No, she’s in her early twenties and she’s been out of college for a few years. She’s a teacher, and she’s about the same age I was when I met you,” Abby said. “And you’re ten years older than me, so that’s not the issue here.”

“I’m eight years older than you,” Darius corrected.

Brady didn’t care if Abby was pulling an Anna Nicole Smith. He just wanted to know why people were discussing his sex life. “Who told you about Piper?” he insisted.

“No one.” She gave him a sheepish look. “I’m psychic, remember?”

What? “I don’t remember anything of the sort.” He never would have dated her if he’d thought for one second that she could read his thoughts.

“It’s true. In high school it wasn’t fine-tuned. But now I have fairly good control over it, but pregnancy has made me scattered. I blurt out stuff I shouldn’t. Sorry.”

Darius nodded slowly, like he was a man who had endured a lot. “It’s been . . . interesting.”

Abby smacked him. “Oh, stop. It hasn’t been that bad.”

Brady wouldn’t have ever thought he would believe in psychics, but he certainly had come around on the ghost issue. Who was to say that someone didn’t have insight into the future? And if Abby had some kind of telescope to tomorrow, he had to admit, he was curious. “So you saw Piper? With me?”

The idea made him feel a little hot inside, in all the good spots.

She nodded, studying him, like she was weighing what she should say. “Don’t be afraid.”

“Afraid?” He snorted. “What the hell would I be afraid of? Her father kicking my ass? I think I can handle Danny. His daughter is an adult, after all.” Not that Danny would see it that way.

“No. I meant don’t be afraid of your feelings.”

Brady recoiled. Was she fucking kidding him? He stared at her, trying to see the seventeen-year-old smart-ass he’d known. All he saw now was earnestness. It made him uncomfortable. “Abby, I think you have me confused with someone else. The baby has clearly thrown your radar off.”

There was an exaggerated silence before Darius spoke up, clearly trying to gloss over the sudden tension. “So how long are you in town?”

“A few weeks.”

“Good, great—we’ll have to get together. It was nice meeting you. Abby, let’s head out before Marge goes off on us for blocking the tables.”

She nodded. “I’m glad you’re home, Brady. And my sister has the information you’re looking for. Go see Bree at the library. She can help you with your research.”

Goose bumps rose on his arms. How could she know he was looking for answers about Brady and Rachel? God, he didn’t remember Abby being this out there. He had no idea what to say, so he just nodded. “Good luck with the baby.”

“Thanks.” She smiled and reached out and squeezed his hand. “See you soon.”

He supposed she would know.

Brady sat back down and stared at the menu, the words blurring. Suddenly he wanted a beer way more than he wanted a sandwich. Maybe he should swing around to his gran’s for some of her special lemonade before hitting the hardware store.

* * *

“OH, MY GOD, I’LL CALL A CLEANING SERVICE FIRST
thing tomorrow.”

Piper sighed, wishing her mother had let her come to the house on Swallow by herself. But after dinner, when Piper had mentioned she wanted to see the house and take some measurements, Amanda had insisted on accompanying her. Now her mother was standing in the living room frowning, her designer handbag in fuchsia held in front of her like a dust shield.

“I can clean it. It’s just a little dusty.” The house had the musty smell of one that had been sitting empty for a while, and the dust motes danced in the fading sunlight from the grimy windows. But the floor looked like it was in decent shape and a glance into the kitchen showed it was the original fifties style, which Piper preferred over an eighties reno gone bad. It was kitschy and suited her. A sense of relief washed over her, and some of the anxiety she had been feeling since she’d opened that door to Brady on Friday eased.

It had been crazy impulsive to verbally agree to a rental she’d never seen, though she doubted Jessie would have held her to it if she had changed her mind. But she didn’t want to change her mind. She wanted to make decisions for herself, move out and move forward with her life. The house gave her a good vibe.

Best of all? There was no hint of ghosts.

“So I talked to Jessie and she said we can choose whatever color we want for paint as long as it’s not obnoxious. Given that she usually looks like a bedazzled produce bin, I think we’ll be safe with whatever we choose.” Amanda pulled a color swatch book out of her purse and fanned it out. “I was thinking a light gray with purple undertones.”

The fact that her mother had paint samples in her purse did not surprise Piper. She had everything but miniature ponies in her handbag. It had been like falling into Narnia when she was a kid and had been allowed to look into it. There were sweets and beauty products and weaponry in it.

“I was thinking yellow. Or pink.”

Acrylic nails paused in the blue family. “Pink? Are you serious?”

“Yes. I like soft colors. I want it to be like . . . a teacup.” The rooms were small and demanded delicate furniture. The cottage details should be highlighted, not ignored, and Piper envisioned lots of plump pillows and fresh flowers, crisp whites, and soft, aged fabrics.

“When you were little, I had to beg you to dress like a girl. Now you never see a floral you don’t like.”

It was probably because when she’d been really little, she had thought girly was the same as trashy. It had taken a few years to sort that out. “I guess I had to grow into it.”

Her mother immediately started sniffling. “I can’t believe you’re moving out. I’m going to miss you.” But then she shifted colors resolutely, holding up a swatch like she was determined not to cry. “How about a white backdrop? Fresh and clean, and then you can go to town with the florals. It will be beautiful, like you.”

Oh, dear. Piper gave her a wan smile. “Thank you.” If her mother started crying, she would start crying, and then they’d be a blubbering mess together.

But Amanda suddenly lifted her head and snapped her fingers. “Oh, my God, I have the best idea ever. You know what goes perfectly with this look you have in mind? Wicker! We’ll give you the porch furniture and you can use it in the living room. You need furniture, right? We’ll just freshen it up with some new pillows for you. There’s a sofa and two big chairs. It will be perfect.”

Piper also wanted to laugh. Her mother hated that wicker and she’d been looking for an excuse to get rid of it for years. “I thought Grandma bought that furniture.”

“Oh, she might have.” She waved her arm around. “But you’re her only granddaughter.”

Like somehow that explained everything. “You don’t have to go to all that trouble. I don’t really need anything other than my bed for a while.”

“Oh, I want to. I really, really want to do this for you.”

That was code for she wanted the wicker gone.

“And good grief, Piper, do you seriously think your father and I would let you live in an empty house?”

“No.” They would offer and she would protest, and in the end, they would give her way more than she had ever expected. That was the way it always went. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. Especially since I didn’t really plan for this very well. I do have a lot of money saved, though, so I’ll take a little of it and get my kitchenware.”

“We’ll go to Walmart, my favorite place after the Prada flagship store in New York.” Amanda winked at her.

Piper laughed. “Yes, your favorite place in the whole world. Daddy always says you should buy stock in it.”

“Let’s write down everything you need.” A tablet came out of the handbag and her mother started muttering and typing. “Twelve bath towels, hand towels, washcloths . . . shower curtain, cotton ball container.”

Even if she didn’t do laundry for nearly two weeks, Piper didn’t need twelve towels, but she didn’t say anything. In the end, she would have to downsize whatever list her mother came up with by about 90 percent. But it would give her a jumping-off point. Hugging herself, she wandered into the bedroom. It was perfect for a full bed. Anything bigger would be a squeeze. There was a bedroom upstairs that ran the length of the house, but Piper wanted to be downstairs, by the bathroom, and with the big window overlooking the backyard. She didn’t want to be stuffed in the attic.

“Which dog are you taking?” Amanda called from the other room.

“Huh?” She stepped back into the small hallway. “What do you mean?”

“You should take one of the dogs for security purposes. Angel will be heartbroken when you move out anyways. She’s really more your dog than mine.”

Sometimes her mother was exhausting. There was no other word for it. But after that afternoon, when she had seen blood trail down a headstone, at least this was normal. Wearying, yes, but well-meaning and loving and very, very normal. “I don’t think there’s really a security issue here, and I don’t want to do that to Angel. She’s used to the freedom of the farm. This is a small house with a small yard and I’m at work all day. She’ll miss the boys and the other dogs.”

“That’s probably true. Maybe we should get you a puppy.”

How that made any sense was beyond her. If a well-trained and low-energy older dog wouldn’t like being cooped up all day, why on earth would that be fair to do to a bouncy puppy? She decided to change the subject. It was a strategy that always worked. “So do you think Dad could bring my bed over here in the next couple of days?”

“Your bed? Why?”

“Well, Brady is going to be staying here while he’s painting, and it seems a little ridiculous that he’s going to be sleeping on the floor.”

“Why isn’t he staying at Shelby’s?”

“She doesn’t have the room.”

“That house is poky,” Amanda agreed. “What about Jessie’s house? She has room.”

“She has a gentleman friend and she doesn’t want Brady there.”

“Oooh. I see.” Amanda grinned. “Well, I say more power to her. But Piper, I don’t know how appropriate it is to have Brady sleeping in your bed.”

“Even if I’m not in it?” she asked. She shouldn’t have asked. She should have just told her mother this was what was happening. She should have just sent Brady to go get the bed. That would have really raised an eyebrow or two. But no, she had asked, and now she was going to be questioned and eventually worn down to where she agreed not to proceed with the idea.

“It just seems weird to have him sleeping in your bed. I mean, you’re not a Hilton hotel, for crying out loud. Why can’t he get his own bed?”

“Why does he need a bed here if I can provide him with one? It just seems like an easy thing to do,” she said stubbornly. “It’s only for a week or two. I’ll wash the sheets.” After she tussled in them with him, if all went according to plan.

“Ew. Okay, you know what? This is getting weird. I don’t want to think about Brady snoring on your mattress.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to blurt it out, to tell her the truth. That while yes, she was being kind and considerate and didn’t want Brady to sleep on the floor, she also had an ulterior motive in that she wanted to have sex with him again without getting a butt splinter.

But she didn’t.

Because her mother would tell her father and they would both disapprove and they would be disappointed in her, and she didn’t want to think that they felt that way about her.

So instead she just said, “I’ll have Brady call Dad so he can help him carry in the mattress and box spring.”

If there was going to be an opinion offered to this statement, it was cut off by the sound of the front door opening.

“Is that Jessie?” Amanda asked. “I wonder if she has a preferred cleaning service.”

Piper sighed. She loved her mother, but she didn’t always listen. Amanda had a whirling-dervish quality to her, and she strode through a room confidently, problem solving in high heels.

But sometimes she surprised Piper. As they walked into the living room, she amended, “Oh, wait, you said we don’t need a cleaning service. But I will drop off some cleaning supplies tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said, genuinely pleased. Leaving her parents wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought, and she had to appreciate the way they were handling it. They were letting her go and helping her in every way they could, like they always did. She was struck again by how fortunate she was, the great gift that been given to her inadvertently by her stepfather when he had dumped her in Danny Tucker’s driveway. His goal had just been to get rid of her, but he had changed the course of her life in ways that she could never fully articulate.