The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge (96 page)

“I’ll be real surprised if there’s something in there that we didn’t discuss, but I see your point. Like I said, I’ll call and remind him that I’m still waiting for the contract.”

“Did you like it? Making beer?”

“I really did. It was interesting and it was fun experimenting with different grains to make different flavors.”

“Sort of the way Steffie makes her ice cream,” Dallas noted. “She likes to experiment, too.”

After a momentary lull, Dallas asked cautiously, “So, have you seen Steffie? Other than the day we all went into Scoop for ice cream.”

“Just here and there around town.” He shrugged, averting his eyes.

“Berry tells me she’s now the proud owner of one of the old places off the Square.”

“Yeah. It’s a pretty cool house.”

“Oh? You saw it?”

“Austin and I got a quick tour the other night while we were out on our walk.”

Another bit of silence, again broken by Dallas. “So, have you talked to her? I mean, about Austin?”

He shook his head. “There hasn’t been much opportunity. I did stop in for a moment at the shop the other morning, but one of her staff came in, and it just didn’t seem appropriate. Besides, I don’t know what to say to her.”

“How about the truth, from start to finish?” When he opened his mouth to protest, she said, “I don’t know what the relationship is between the two of you. Frankly, I don’t think you do either. All I know is that you both get this look when you’re in the same room at the same time, and neither of you can keep your eyes off the other. Don’t interrupt me,” she warned when he appeared about to do just that. “Even if she’s no more than a friend to you—a friend you do have a bit of a history with, if what I’ve heard is true—then I think you owe her the truth, because you know this is a small town, and sooner or later she’s going to hear some things that might be nothing more than idle gossip. If she hears the story—the entire story—from you, she’ll know what the truth is. Wade.” She tapped him on the arm. “It’s the least you could do for a friend.”

“You’re right.” He nodded slowly. “I guess I could talk to her tonight when I drop off the ladder.” He looked at his older sister and said, “Thanks. I appreciate the advice. But you realize it’s tough to have a serious conversation with Himself here running around. Which means you’ll probably have to babysit tonight.”

“Oh, that’s such a hardship, isn’t it, Austin?” Dallas ruffled her nephew’s dark curls. “Poor Aunt Dallas
has to spend time with her little guy. We always have fun, don’t we? You and Cody and Berry and I?”

Austin nodded enthusiastically and craned his neck to look toward the front door. “Cody?”

“Not yet, pal. But you can come with me when it’s time to pick him up from school,” Dallas told him. “Maybe we’ll stop and get some ice cream.”

“Steppie.” Austin clapped his hands.

Dallas shot Wade an amused glance. “Well, it looks like Steffie has more than one friend on River Road. I guess you wouldn’t want to come with us?”

“Thanks but no.” He pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “I have a ladder to fix.”

The entire time Wade was tying the ladder to the roof of his Jeep with rope he found in the carriage house, he was trying to rehearse what he was going to say to Steffie.

“Listen. About Austin …”
Nah
.

“So maybe you’re curious about Austin …”
Uh-uh
.

“Maybe you’re wondering if I was married the night you and I … I mean, the night of Beck and Mia’s wedding.”
Ouch
.

By the time he arrived at the Olive Street house, he’d pretty much decided that this was one of those times when it would be best to wing it.

He’d been thinking about Steffie a lot since he left Texas, and he was coming to the conclusion that the less he thought about her, the better off he was going to be. There was something about her that drew him in. Dallas was right about that.

“Moth to flame,” he muttered as he stopped in front of her house.

He untied the ladder, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and headed toward the front door. Her car was in the driveway and there were lights inside and music coming from somewhere. He rang the bell, and hoped that it worked, and that he wouldn’t have to wait too long for her to answer it. His hands were sweating, and he told himself that was because he’d been reliving the past six months in his mind all afternoon in anticipation of talking to Steffie about Robin.

The door opening suddenly startled him. He took a step back and almost went down the porch stairs backward.

“Are you okay?” Steffie swung the door open wide.

“Sure. Fine. I just took a little misstep.” He moved the ladder slightly to balance it.

“Hey, you really didn’t have to—”

“I said I would.”

“I didn’t want you to go to any trouble.”

“No trouble. Where would you like it?”

“I guess you can just leave it here in the entry.” She stepped back and held the door for him. She was wearing a tank top, cutoff jeans, and bright orange flip-flops, and she had what appeared to be plaster dust in her hair. Wade’s heart caught in his chest.

He leaned the ladder against one wall and glanced around at the strips of wallpaper that littered the floor.

“I hadn’t planned on pulling it all off,” she explained. “But there was a strip hanging, and once I pulled it, the piece next to it sort of sagged. Next thing I knew …” She pointed to the floor and
shrugged. “Well, one thing led to another. Besides, it’s therapeutic.”

“You’ve got the whole entry almost stripped, though, so that’s a good thing, right?” Wade opened the ladder and set it up next to the front wall where paper was still affixed to the top near the ceiling.

“I couldn’t reach that,” she said.

“That’s why God invented the ladder.” He reached up and pulled at a strip of paper. It came loose but left glue marks on the wall. He looked down at Steffie and asked, “You wouldn’t have a scraper, would you?”

“I do, but you don’t have to—”

“Maybe I could use a little therapy myself.”

“I’ll get the scraper.” Steffie disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later she returned, unwrapping the new tool. “Here you go.” She handed it to him.

“Thanks. Maybe you could go ahead and finish the lower part of the wall, and I’ll do the area nearest the ceiling.”

“This is really nice of you.” Steffie pulled a long piece of paper and it peeled from the wall with ease.

“I’m a nice guy.”

She let that pass without remark.

A moment later, he moved the ladder, removed a stray piece of paper, then climbed down.

“I think we’re finished.”

“Great.” She turned and smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate your—”

“How ’bout this room?” He carried the ladder into the dining room. “Looks like you got a good start on this one, too.”

“I just pulled off the stuff that was hanging. Look,
Wade …” She sneezed, then coughed. “I guess the dust is starting to get to me.” She cleared her throat. “I have water in the fridge. Can I bring you a bottle?”

“That would be great, thanks.” He hadn’t wanted to mention it, but the dust was getting to him, too.

He turned on the dining-room light, then whistled. He was pretty sure he had his opening line down. He’d start out telling her about Robin, how they’d been best buds. Not lovers, they’d never been that. But best friends. He’d say,
I want to tell you about Robin
. And she’d say something like
Okay
. He’d take a deep breath and say,
Robin Kennedy was the first person I met when I arrived at school my freshman year—

“What do you think of that dining-room wallpaper? Does anything say ‘Welcome to 1943’ like little pink flowers on a taupe background?” she called from the kitchen. “It’s been there for as long as I can remember.”

“It’s good to get rid of all the old paper before you start to paint.” He grabbed a loose strip and pulled it, releasing a cloud of dust and crumbling plaster. He paused. “You weren’t planning on painting tonight, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Good. It’s better to get all the paper dust out of the way first. Otherwise, it can settle into the fresh paint and it will look like …” He peeled another strip of paper and let it drop to the floor.

He stared at the wall. Removal of the paper had revealed a large heart drawn directly onto the plaster. Inside the heart had been written
HORACE LOVES DAISY
.

“Stef, was your cousin Horace married?”

“Nope. Lived and died a single gentleman. Why do you ask?”

“You’re going to want to see this.”

“What?”

He went into the kitchen, and she turned to look over her shoulder.

“I can’t get the cap off.” Stef held up the water bottle.

Wade took it from her hand and gave it a good twist, then reached around her to sit it on the counter. She was still turned toward him, as close to him as she’d been when they’d danced. For a moment he was tempted to put an arm around her and lead her into a slow dance there in the kitchen. Instead, he smoothed her hair back from her face. One long strand had pulled from her ponytail, and he tucked it behind her ear.

“You’re coming undone,” he told her.

“You can say that again,” she said wryly.

His hand skimmed along the contour of her face, his thumb tracing her cheek to the corner of her mouth. For that one moment, he wanted nothing more in life than to kiss that mouth. Her eyes held his and he knew he couldn’t look away if he’d wanted to. His thumb followed the full curve of her bottom lip and she turned her head toward it. He lifted her chin and leaned in to kiss her, telling himself just one, just to see what he’d been missing, to see if kissing her would be as good as he thought it would be, even though he knew that was a lie. His lips brushed against hers lightly, but she made no move to pull away. Her hands slid up his chest, grabbing the fabric
of his shirt and pulling him closer. He kissed her for real then, a long-drawn-out kiss that could have lasted forever, would have certainly lasted longer than it did had they not heard the front door slam.

It took a moment for either of them to react. Stef looked up into Wade’s face quizzically, as if not quite sure she’d heard anything at all.

“Steffie?” a male voice called from the front hall.

“Were you expecting someone?” Wade asked as she disengaged herself from his embrace.

“No. I don’t know who—”

“Steffie, are you here?” the voice called again.

“It’s Jesse Enright,” she told Wade.

“Who’s Jesse Enright?” He frowned.

“My lawyer.” She cleared her throat and called, “In the kitchen, Jesse.”

“Good timing, Jesse,” Wade muttered.

“I saw the lights and thought I’d stop in and see if you needed any help.” A dark-haired man about Wade’s age and height came into the kitchen.

“Hey, Jesse,” Steffie greeted her visitor.

“Wade, this is Jesse Enright. My lawyer.” Steffie looked up at the new guy. “Jesse, this is Wade MacGregor, an old friend.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jesse extended a hand to Wade.

“Likewise.” Wade shook Enright’s hand and wondered why the lawyer was calling on the client at ten at night.

“Am I interrupting …?” Jesse asked Stef.

“We were just taking a little break,” Steffie said, not really answering the question.

“Are you sure? I know it’s presumptuous for me to
just pop in like this. But I worked late wrapping up a case and was taking a walk to clear my head and the lights were on when I passed by—”

“It’s perfectly fine, Jesse.”

“This is a terrific house. Nice high ceilings, nice large rooms, lots of windows, lots of light.” He nodded appreciatively. “Very nice, Steffie.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you sure I’m not interrupting something?” he asked again.

“Actually, I was just about to show Stef what I found in the dining room,” Wade said.

“You found something in the dining room?” she asked. “What is it?”

“You have to come see for yourself.” Wade took her by the elbow. “You, too, Enright. You’ll want to see this.”

Steffie and Jesse followed Wade into the room, and he turned up the lights on the chandelier to better illumine the wall.

“Remember I asked you if Horace had been married?” Wade pointed to the wall. “This is why.”

Steffie looked positively dumbstruck.

“ ‘Horace loves Daisy.’ ” She stared at the wall.

“Who’s Daisy?” Jesse asked.

“I have absolutely no idea.” She touched the plaster with her hand, running her fingers around the outline of the heart. “I wonder if Mom would know. Though it is strange that she never mentioned it.”

She dialed her mother’s number on her iPhone.

“Mom,” she said, “did Horace have a girlfriend named Daisy?”

She explained their find.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s what it says. It’s big as life. I’ll send you a picture …”

Stef disconnected the call, snapped the picture with her phone, and sent it to her mother. Moments later, her phone rang. She spoke briefly with her mother, then hung up.

“Mom is as mystified as I am.” Stef stuck the phone back into her pocket and moved closer to the wall. “She has no idea what this means.”

“I think it means he and Daisy had a thing going on,” Jesse said.

“Why do you suppose he wrote that, then covered it up?” she wondered aloud. “It’s big as life. It almost covers half that wall.”

“Probably because he wanted to hide it,” Wade said.

“But why?” Steffie frowned. “He had to know that sooner or later, someone would see it. Maybe I’ll ask around,” she said. “Maybe someone knows.” She snapped her fingers. “Miss Grace! Miss Grace knows everything that ever happened in St. Dennis.”

“There’s always the possibility that Daisy wasn’t from St. Dennis,” Jesse noted.

“Or maybe she wasn’t his girlfriend,” Wade reasoned. “Maybe she was his secret crush.”

“Maybe we’ll never know.” Stef continued to stare at the heart. “It’s such a romantic gesture, to leave something like that for posterity. I was going to paint the walls. Now, though, I think I should repaper. Paint would cover that forever.”

“I wonder if Daisy—whoever she was—knew how Horace felt about her,” Wade mused.