Copper Lake Confidential - By Marilyn Pappano Page 0,34
the soft, blurry pastels of her dress, she looked like a spring dream.
Until his gaze reached her face. There were shadows under her eyes, and her face was pale. She’d had a really bad day—or night. She was a different woman than the one he’d kissed right here last night.
He meant to be polite and not comment on her appearance, but when he spoke, it wasn’t hello that came out. “Are you okay?”
Had she gotten bad news? Had something happened to Clary? No, of course not. If her daughter needed her, she would have moved heaven and earth to be with her. Maybe something had happened with her parents. They were in Europe, she’d said.
Or maybe packing up the house she’d shared with her dead husband was finally getting to her. Memories, good and bad. Reminders of what she’d lost, maybe what she’d escaped.
Her wan smile wasn’t reassuring. “No sleep last night and a headache today. Come on in.” Bending, she scratched Scooter as she unhooked his leash. “Hey, big boy, aren’t you the prettiest baby.”
Scooter gave her his biggest doggy grin. The instant the scratching stopped, though, his nose began quivering, and he followed it down the hall toward the kitchen, his tail slapping boxes on the way.
The family room looked as if a perversely neat tornado had blown through, with packed boxes stacked on the couch, chairs and tables, shelves mostly empty, even the throw pillows tossed into a large open box. “You’ve been busy.”
“I’m getting rid of the easy stuff. The DVDs are going to the retirement center, the books to the library. I called Right Track today and offered them all the casual furniture, so they’re sending a truck on Monday.”
“Ellie Maricci’s pet project.” Right Track was a residential training program for young women who were booted from the juvenile system at eighteen with no help and little hope for their futures. They got job training and counseling, learned to cook, clean and do laundry, helped pay expenses with part-time jobs and took on the responsibilities of their homes. He’d found a few dogs and cats to be pets at the center and donated the food and care necessary for them and a few strays who’d joined them.
Ellie didn’t believe in turning any strays away, two- or four-footed. Neither did he.
“They’re getting the televisions, too, and the stereo and Mark’s computers. I’m taking them in tomorrow or Saturday to have copies made of whatever I need and get the hard drives erased.”
“No wonder you have a headache. You’ve done a lot.”
She smiled that faint smile again and muttered as she turned to the kitchen. He thought it sounded like I wish.
He followed her to the island. Scooter sat on the other side, staring up at the counter. A pan of gooey brownies sat there, far back out of his reach, but that didn’t stop him from drooling over the incredible aroma.
“Since we’re grilling, I thought we’d eat outside. I could use a little fresh air. Could you grab that pan?”
He picked up the large tray and followed her to the rear door. Scooter darted between them, second one out, and immediately tore across the yard. “Aw, man, I forgot you have a pool. Scooter loves water. About half the time he escapes, he goes for a swim in the creek, and he likes to wallow in puddles after it rains.”
“Creeks, puddles, my daylilies. He wallows a lot, doesn’t he? It seems a veterinarian would have a better-trained pet.”
Tilting his head, he put on a perplexed look. “It’s funny how many people think that. But remember, I’m only a part-time vet, and Scooter’s a full-time character. Besides, what’s a little wallowing between friends?”
She laughed. “I’ve got plenty of towels. Wallow away, Scooter.”
Stephen had been in the backyard before, but that was the first night, when she thought she’d seen someone in the guesthouse. He hadn’t paid a lot of attention to the area. Now he took the time to really look around. The flagstone patio extended into lush green grass, with outdoor furniture better than his indoor stuff, a fire pit for chilly nights and a grill and sink set in a massive brick outcropping to the right.
The rest of the large space was filled with guesthouse, pool, swathes of grass and extensive flower beds, the kind that took hours of planning even before the first spade or shovel was turned. “My mom would love this garden.”
Macy set down the items she’d carried on the stone counter