no one noticed it.
Next she glanced at the wicker basket that stored paper for recycling, then a group of pictures on the wall: his parents on their wedding day, both sets of grandparents and all of his great-grandparents in their youth. Everything more recent-everything including Josh-was packed in a box in the attic.
She stopped in the kitchen door. The dogs had checked their food dishes, upended now in the middle of the floor, then vacated. They were probably on his bed, seeing what other trouble they could cause, but Joe didn’t go looking for them. He watched Liz’s gaze skim the counters as if nothing there held any interest to her, besides possibly the coffee maker. She scanned the walls, with their photos and framed recipes, handwritten by various long-gone women in his family, and the square oak table that took too much room. “You actually live here,” she remarked.
“Did you think I slept in the storeroom at the shop and just changed clothes here?”
“Didn’t you pretty much use your condo for just changing clothes?”
He smiled ruefully as he brushed a patch of Bear’s fur from the sofa cushions before sitting down. “I didn’t like the condo much. Cold and sterile wasn’t my idea of home.”
“That’s what you get for giving an interior decorator free rein.” She sat, too, in the armchair, drawing her feet onto the cushions, wriggling into its depths. “The only place to sit in my house is the wicker sofa that belongs on Mrs. Wyndham’s porch. It’s nice, but I do miss solid furniture.”
“I used that sofa, too, when I moved in.” Had sat on it, eaten dinner on it, slept on it with his feet hanging over the arm. “But you’re not staying long enough to need real furniture.”
Her only response was a shrug.
He didn’t move-sprawled on the sofa, one arm resting along its back, legs stretched out underneath the coffee table-but the tension ratcheting through him made him feel as if he’d compressed in place. “If I knew where Josh was, I’d tell you.”
“To get rid of me?”
To save me. “But I don’t know.”
“He’ll come here.”
“He’ll go somewhere. He’s got a lot of friends and relatives who haven’t moved in the last two years. It’ll be easier to get help from them than to bother finding me.”
“Relatives who know where you are? Where your parents are?”
Joe stared at a painting on the wall, an oil done decades ago by a great-great-grandmother he’d never met. It was one of the few possessions her daughter had been able to bring to the U.S. when she fled Havana. It wasn’t very well done, the brush strokes too heavy, the perspective too fuzzy. It was like looking at the city through cloudy glass, but it held sentimental value.
Josh held sentimental value, too. Not necessarily to him, but to some of his friends. Dory’s best friend had been appalled when Dory asked everyone not to give Josh any information about them or Joe. He’s your son, your own flesh and blood! How can you turn your back on him?
Nothing, Opal had declared, could ever make her abandon her children, and she was ashamed that her friend could even think about doing so. If Josh contacted her-not likely but always possible-she might give it a second thought, but in the end, she would give him their addresses and phone numbers.
Maybe a warning phone call to Opal was in order. Maybe Thomas P. Smith, U.S. Attorney’s Office, would make it for him.
“What did you guys do after I left Chicago?”
Liz combed her fingers through her hair before resting her cheek on her fist. “Josh figured getting out of town was the safest thing for him, too.”
“And you went with him.” She didn’t love him now, she’d said, but had she then? Giving up her home and her job, if she’d had one, to leave town with a man whom other people wanted dead…That required a serious commitment, didn’t it?
She gave no sign of it. “It’s not as if Chicago was my home. I’d been there long enough. It was time to go someplace else.”
“Where?”
“We moved around a lot. Made it all the way west to San Francisco.”
“And
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Her smile was wry.
It was amazing. On the one hand, Josh had never stayed with one woman that long. On the other…you just didn’t walk away from a woman like Liz.
Why would any man with breath in his body want to?
“Why the coffee shop?” she asked while he was still looking for an answer to his own question. “There must have been other small businesses for sale. Were you already a java connoisseur?”
“Nope. I drank my fair share of it, but before I came here, I didn’t even own a coffee maker. It just seemed…” Everything about the day he’d made the decision was clear in his memory. He’d been driving, neither knowing nor caring where he was going besides away from Chicago. He’d reached Copper Lake around noon and stopped for lunch at Ellie’s Deli. Afterward, he’d walked around downtown to delay climbing back into the car again, and he’d realized that for the first time in six months, he hadn’t looked over his shoulder once. It had seemed a sign. Then he’d seen the real sign-For Sale -taped in the front window of a shop bearing his name. He’d gone inside and walked out two hours later with an obligation and a new hometown.
“Right,” Liz supplied quietly. “It seemed right.”
He nodded. “Back then all I knew about coffee was that the good stuff was really good and the bad was really bad, but it beat not having any at all. The first thing I did, besides shutting down the place to remodel, was start researching coffee.
She was quiet a long time, her expression wistful. Was she ready for a new start, too? Looking for closure to her two-plus years with Josh so she could move on with her life? And where would she make that new start? Back in Chicago? At home in Kansas?
Copper Lake could always use another waitress, bartender or clerk.
When he could seriously think that thought, it was time for the evening to end. Too much time alone with Liz was a dangerous thing. She needed to go, even if it was just across the yard to the peach house. But before he could fake a yawn or think of an excuse to send her away, claws skittered across the wooden floor, then a crash sounded behind him.
He jumped to his feet, the familiarity of old alarm rushing through him, and spun around, expecting to see the door kicked in or the window glass shattered.
It was nothing so dramatic. The oak-and-brass coat rack beside the door lay on its side, jackets, ball caps and bike helmet scattered around it. Bear was slinking along the wall, heading for safety elsewhere, but Elizabeth stood in the middle of it, one end of her leash still looped over a brass hook, the other in her mouth.
Liz tried to stifle a laugh. “I think she’s trying to tell you that it’s time for her evening walk.”
Joe scowled at her over his shoulder as he circled the couch. “You said you’re developing a soft spot for her. Take her, and you can have Bear for free.”
As he spoke, Bear weaseled up next to the chair where Liz sat, put one paw up, then wiggled his body into the narrow space beside her. Once he was snuggled against her, with her arm protectively around his shoulders, he gave Joe a mournful look before hiding his face.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, stood in the middle of the floor, still holding the leash and looking defiant.
“You shouldn’t say such things in front of your babies,” Liz scolded. “See, you’ve frightened Bear.”
Joe reached for the other end of Elizabeth ’s leash, and she darted off, dragging the six-foot length of webbing behind her. She caught the end table, knocking it forward a few inches and causing the lamp to sway, then upended the recycling basket on her way into the kitchen. Hands on his hips, he stood where he was, listening to the leash’s metal hook clanking behind Elizabeth as she ran in dizzying circles through the house, watching Bear cuddle closer to Liz, his eyes open just enough to give what Joe was pretty sure was a triumphant look, and he sighed.
Hadn’t he known he was in trouble the day Liz Dalton walked through the door?
Chapter 6
Taking pity on Joe, Liz pushed Bear to the floor, more difficult than it should have been, given that he was a puppy, then stood up. “ Elizabeth,” she said sharply. “Want to go for a walk?”
For a moment, the scratch of nails and clanging of hook stilled, then the dog shot into the living room from the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of her and dropping the leash.
“Eww,” Liz said, picking it up with two fingers. “There’s slobber on the end you have to hold.”
“Natalia bought extras. Apparently, the mutt likes to chew on them.” Joe set the coat stand back on its clawed feet, returned the coats and hats to their hooks, tossed a blue leash on the sofa, then got another one from down the hall.
Elizabeth was a perfect princess while Liz got her hooked up-an act, she was pretty sure, for Joe’s benefit. She wondered if he’d care if she tagged along or if this was her cue to go home. Maybe he’d rather take the walk with Natalia. Maybe he’d rather be alone. A part of her wouldn’t mind that.
But the bigger part would rather delay saying goodnight to him.
Joe put on a lime-green slicker before attaching Bear’s leash and opening the door. Liz accompanied Elizabeth onto the porch, where she slid her feet into her shoes, waiting for an invitation that wasn’t likely to come. Finally she said, “Thanks for sharing dinner with me.”
“Thanks for providing it.” He locked the door, then moved to stand beside them at the top of the steps.
It was still raining, a steady patter that dripped from the roof and ran in miniature rivers across the sidewalk. To be totally comfortable, it needed to be about ten degrees warmer, but lately, being cold had been the least of her worries.
She held out Elizabeth ’s leash, a smile fixed on her mouth, even when Joe was obviously careful not to touch her when he took it. “I’ll see you.”
He murmured something, maybe just a sound, and the four of them went down the steps together. Joe and the dogs stopped on the sidewalk while she headed through puddles toward her house. She was halfway there when Elizabeth let out a wail of protest, supported by Bear’s barks.
“Hey,” Joe called, and Liz turned so quickly that in the rain-unworthy clogs, she was lucky she didn’t sprain an ankle. “Why don’t you change shoes and go with us? I’ll grab another slicker. Okay?”
