The Lake

“Thought you and she were history. Like, you’re no longer partners?”

“Right. Mattie got a little bored in the car all day. Cramped her style, she said. Got herself an office job instead.” Mace huffed out a harsh little laugh.

Looking at him, Deana got the feeling there was probably more to Mace and Mattie than met the eye.

Maybe they had been an item, both on and off duty.

“Deana,” Leigh put in. “How about some coffee?”

Trying to get rid of me, Mom? Okay, but please don’t make a fool of yourself. I’m not jealous. Just don’t want you getting hurt…

“This is my first day back at the restaurant,” Leigh was telling Mace.

“That so? Sure you’re up to it?”

“Yeah. Got to make a start sometime. Besides, what else can I do to solve the mystery of Nelson’s disappearance? It’s up to you guys now.”

She changed the subject.

“Seems like the new chef is shaping up real good. Thank heavens.” Leigh gestured toward the remains of their meal—and the wine.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mace. Would you have preferred a glass of wine rather than coffee? I do apologize. But, naturally, I thought you were still on duty…”

“I’m not, as it happens. But coffee’s fine. Just mighty pleased to see you and Deana are coping so well. Under the circumstances.”

“Well, we’ve felt better, I can assure you. But we’re getting there. We’ll be okay when you find Nelson. He seemed like a man at his wits’ end—so maybe he won’t be much of a threat to us anymore.”

“Can’t be too sure about that, Leigh.” Mace met her eyes candidly. For a moment, her heart warmed. He was being very thoughtful. And she was grateful for that.

Briefly, she considered the yawning gap in her life. The space that one day, she hoped, a partner would fill.

Admit it, Leigh, she told herself. A man in your life could be a lotta fun.

Yeah. In my dreams!

There had been guys.

After Charlie.

A handful. Maybe even more. But her life had always been too busy for a full-on relationship.

Because there’d been Deana. Not counting the restaurant. Plus the hard work that went with all of that.

The late nights. Early mornings.

There’d been no time, no place for a permanent man in her life.

Looking back, there’d only been one who’d even remotely fitted the bill. He’d have married her like a shot if she hadn’t been so goddamned intent on her career.

Ben.

What a fool I’ve been.

He’d have made the perfect partner.

Meeting Cherry today brought all those memories flooding back…

“Something on your mind?” Mace placed a warm hand over her cool one.

She started. “Sorry. I… met someone today. Someone from the old days. Triggered off a few memories, I guess. A blast from the past, you might say.”

She smiled into his eyes. They were dark; she hadn’t noticed how dark before. Looking into them now, she saw warmth and concern—and behind that, a raunchy twinkle.

He likes me, Leigh told herself.

Mace likes me.

A squirm of excitement stirred between her thighs. It had been far too long…

“Come and get it!” Deana bustled in with the coffeepot, cream, and sugar on a serving tray. She paused, sensing the atmosphere.

Seems like I’m interrupting a special moment here.

Good.

“Uh-huh.” Clearing a space on the table in front of them, she plonked the tray on it.

“I feel a date with my TV coming on. According to TVS, Sleepy Hollow’s showing after the news. So it’s coffee for two, I’m afraid, folks.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.” Mace almost sounded sorry. “Well, don’t wait up. I’ll stay and chat with Mom a while longer.”

Deana threw Leigh a questioning glance.

Is this really what you want?

Leigh’s face stayed bland.

“Okay, honey. Try to get some rest, now. I won’t be long.” With a thoughtful face, Leigh watched Deana go.

“Hey. The kid’ll get over it. Kids do. It’s been a real bad experience for her—for you both—but she’s a survivor. She’ll be okay.”

“Think so, Mace?” Leigh seemed unsure. She concentrated on pouring the coffee. Black for Mace; white, no sugar for herself.

“Right on. Few weeks from now and it never happened.”

She still wore a worried frown, and he took her hand in his.

“Nice place you got here, Leigh. Great view of the Bay. I’d sure like to take some shots. All that perspective, sweeping down to the Gate. Wonderful vantage point—best I’ve seen.”

“Shots?”

He laughed. “Not those kinda shots. Shots as in photographs.”

“Oh, you take pictures. Professionally?”

“Nah. Just a hobby. But I like to think, once in a while, they’ll be good enough for exhibition. Had one or two in an L.A. gallery last year. Got some okay reviews.”

“Nice going, Mace. And sure. Feel free. You’re welcome to take shots from my window anytime!”

They exchanged glances and smiled.

Sharing the joke.

They lapsed into silence. It was one of those rare, comfortable moments when Leigh felt at peace with the world.

It was a good feeling.

“Mace?”

“Uh-huh?”

“This is great. Y’know that?”

“Mmmm… Yeah. Suits me, too.”

“Do you… have anyone? I mean, anyone special?”

“Me? Nope. Girl I met at college was the last special one that I recall. Wanda Baker, her name was. Yeah. She was something special. Till she got herself carved up, that is.”

“Mace! Whatever happened?” She glanced at his face. It looked dark. Closed. She shivered a little, then said, “There’s no need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“That’s okay. I don’t have a problem with that. Not anymore.”

He leaned forward, studying his Nike sneakers, arms resting on his knees, hands hanging slack between his thighs.

“She was the prettiest little thing,” he said. “Blond. Five two and a bit, and neat with it. Y’know? Her dad died when she was a year old. Her mom committed suicide, so she was brought up by an old aunt.

“Wanda was an old-fashioned kinda girl. Quiet. Kept to herself.” He eased back into the sofa, staring through the glass wall into the night.

“Oh, Mace. What a terrible story. And for her to get murdered…”