Love - From His Point Of View!: Meeting at Midnight

But she’d never said which of them had preferred living together to marriage. She hadn’t said anything about why she’d moved out, either, just that it happened two years ago. Yesterday she’d admitted to being angry with her father, but hadn’t told me the man’s name, or anything else about him. And she’d implied that anything weird I’d seen that night on the mountain must have been the product of shock.

Slippery.

Seely Jones was a much more private woman than she seemed. I could respect that, and yet…I glanced uneasily at the unopened box beside the couch.

Last year I’d gone wireless when I got a new laptop. It didn’t have to be hooked up to anything to connect to the Internet. So, on my first night home from the hospital I’d ordered several books on-line, paying to have them overnighted. I probably could have gotten them, or something similar, from the bookstore on Fremont Street. Susannah would have boxed up my order and dropped them off, if I’d asked.

Or I could have gotten books from the library for nothing. I’d known the head librarian since I was five. Muriel would have looked up my card number, checked the books out to me and brought them by.

But anyone who knew me would have been startled by my current choice of reading material. I didn’t want to explain. I didn’t want anyone speculating about my sanity, either. I was doing enough of that.

Finding myself in the company of Harold Meckle, M.D., was a nasty shock, but like I said, he wasn’t really an idiot. Just a jerk. Some of the things that happened on that mountain didn’t add up, not using any of the normal ways of calculating reality.

“That bracelet you wear,” I mentioned as I finished the last bit I could reach. “Did Blois give it to you?”

She didn’t turn around. “Why do you ask?”

“You said the little stones were for, uh, chakras. And that Blois was into New Age stuff.”

“Daisy gave it to me—her version of a ‘sweet sixteen’ present.”

“She’s into chakras?”

“Among other things.”

I decided not to press for more. Not now. I’d gotten one solid answer—Blois hadn’t given her the bracelet she never seemed to remove. That was something. Far from all I needed to know, though. Maybe I’m too stubborn for my own good. I’ve been told that more than once.

I wondered what Duncan would say about the request I planned to make the next time I saw him.

Seven

“Look, if you don’t want to do it, just say so.”

“I don’t want to do it.”

I sighed.

Duncan and I were sitting at the kitchen table with some of Seely’s excellent coffee. She was upstairs getting ready.

Not that she needed to. We were just going to drop by the office—though I hadn’t mentioned that part yet—then head to the building-supply center. And she already looked great. She always did.

But women have rules for that sort of thing. Not the same rules, mind—they vary from one woman to the next in some sort of changeable code. It seems to make sense to other women.

Setting has something to do with it. When Annie was doing handyman work, she’d run all over town in paint-splattered jeans or coveralls, her face bare of makeup and her hair tucked up in a cap. Dealing with clients or stopping at the gas station dressed that way was okay; going to the grocery store was not. I know this because she used to kick up a fuss if I asked her to pick up something while she was out. “I can’t go to the grocery store looking like this!” she’d say, even though plenty of people had seen her looking like that already.

Apparently, building-supply centers belonged in the “get fixed up first” category for Seely. I didn’t try to understand it.

I collected my walking stick and mug and lifted my left foot off the extra chair. My knee was a lot better, but I still kept that leg propped up much of the time. I limped over to the coffeepot. “Want some more?”

Duncan shook his head. He was looking tired, I thought. Night shifts didn’t agree with him. Then, too, he’d pulled a double in order to free up time for the camping trip with Zach—a trip the weather had cut short. We’d had our first good freeze Saturday night, accompanied by a light dusting of snow.

Duncan’s gaze held steady on me as I refilled my mug. “Maybe you should tell me why you asked. If you suspect Seely has a criminal background—”

“Nothing like that,” I said quickly. “There’s something she’s not telling me, that’s all.”

His mouth crooked up. “More than one thing, probably. Women have been failing to tell men everything for a few thousand years. Police departments don’t generally consider that a good reason to run a background check.”

He made my curiosity sound like a man-woman thing, not employer-employee. Which was accurate but annoying. “I didn’t want you to do it as a cop.”

“Well, as your brother I’m advising you to drop the idea.” He put the mug down. “Nosing around will just get you in trouble. Though if you really have to know something, you could hire a P.I.”

No way. I’d thought maybe Duncan could find out a few things discreetly. Her father’s name, for example. Some hint of why she was working at jobs way below her skill level. But I didn’t want some stranger snooping around in her life. “Never mind.”

“You know, this is weird.”

“What?”

“You. You’re acting different.” He nodded toward the front of the house. “The living room. It’s always been white.”

“You don’t like it green?”

“It looks fine. Felt weird when I walked in and saw it, though.” One corner of his mouth kicked up, as if he were reluctantly amused. “Sort of like a kid who goes away to college, comes home and finds out mom and dad redecorated without telling him.”

Dammit, I should have thought about how he’d feel. Charlie and Annie, too. This house was their heritage every bit as much as it was mine. “I ought to have said something. It’s your house, too, and you—”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Of course it is. Mom and Dad left it to all of us.”

“Twenty years ago, yes. But you’re the one who has lived here all these years, taken care of the place. This is your home.” He took a deep breath. “Gwen and I have talked about this. We want to deed my share of the house over to you.”

I slammed my mug down, ignoring the coffee that slopped over the rim. “Forget it.”

“There might be some tax liability for you, but she thinks we can minimize that.”

“Aren’t you listening?” I demanded. “Just because your wife could buy and sell this house ten times over doesn’t oblige me to accept a handout.”

Duncan shoved to his feet. “This has nothing to do with Gwen’s money! Dammit, you hard-headed son of a bitch, will you listen a minute?”

“I’m not hearing anything worth listening to. If you don’t—”

“Whoa!”

That came from Seely. Startled, I looked at the doorway.

She stood there, shaking her head. “Good grief. I can’t be accused of eavesdropping with Ben bellowing like a wounded moose. I heard him from the stairs. Ben.” She fixed me with a firm stare. “Do you really think Duncan offered to give you his share of this house because he enjoys flinging Gwen’s money around?”

I flushed. “No. But—”