Chapter Fourteen
Crystal’s question haunts me when I get back into town. Too wound up to enclose myself in the office, I promise Ralph I’ll be back in a few and head out for a run.
Okay, a fast walk. Running has never been my go-to exercise. Give me a road bike and miles of rural highway any day. But for now, a walk is the quickest way I’ll tire myself out enough to contemplate a long soak in the tub, followed by hopefully a solid slumber. I lied to Crystal about sleeping well last night.
Main Street is congested as the earliest commuters pass through on their way home from Harrisburg or further. Every single parking spot is occupied, and people wrapped in warm outerwear thread down the sidewalks, going in and out of the shops. The thrill that gave me butterflies over this business potential isn’t there, and I make a quick left to enter an alley that will take me to the road that leads out of town. It’s still light out, but I’m not willing to run on the shoulder no matter how much reflective gear I wear, so as soon as I reach the entrance to a subdivision I angle in, mindful of turning cars.
Cumberland Cove is the quintessential mid-century neighborhood, with mature oak and mulberry trees on either side of the wide streets. Low-slung split-levels sit far enough back from the road to see them, but allow for ample privacy. Many houses are in the processes of being decked out for the holidays and I focus on each home in an effort to clear my mind. A large air-filled turkey gently waves in the breeze on one lawn, while a set of Charlie Brown characters from the Christmas special hang out on another. Most houses already have lights strung, a smart tactic when the weather can change on a dime this time of year. Plus, several Stonebridge families celebrate Diwali by hanging multicolored lights, which adds to the sense of being in the middle of celebration.
The tension in my shoulders eases and I can almost pretend that Saturday didn’t happen. Almost, for just this tiny sliver of time.
I walk past the house I considered buying before I realized I’d be much happier living atop the shop. Plus the numbers crunched out better.
The twins had preferred the stone-front house, especially the kidney-shaped pool complete with waterfall nestled in the backyard. The FOR SALE sign is gone, so I assume it sold. I haven’t thought to check in the flurry of the past few months. I won—
“Woof!”
A Sasquatch-sized canine leaps in front of me a split second after his warning bark. I freeze, hold up my arms. I know I shouldn’t make eye contact but this looks more like a wolf, with amber eyes to match.
My adrenaline spikes my heart rate as, you guessed it, good ol’ Navy training kicks in. Stay calm. No sudden moves. Be the alpha! The last is Crystal’s admonition every time I encounter her three burly labs, whom I adore.
“It’s okay, boy? Good doggie.” I use my lowest voice and pray the dog doesn’t notice my knocking knees.
But this is a strange dog and I’m a stranger in what I assume is his neighborhood. He’s stopped barking and moves in close, sniffing me. He’s the biggest German shepherd I’ve ever met, and some detached part of me wonders if I shouldn’t be peeing my workout pants about now.
“Mach!” A loud booming voice, this one human, thank the feral pets goddess, makes the dog’s ears pointier than possible and his head whips to the source. Who names their dog after Mach speed? Although I have to admit it fits. This wolf came out of nowhere.
A tall, slim man strides toward us across the front lawn of the house I considered buying, his brows drawn together in disapproval. My defenses lock in and I’m ready to fire.
“You need to keep your dog on a leash.”
“Mach, stay.” The man’s still several yards out, but close enough that I make out his face. And the silver hair that tops it. The butterflies in my stomach activate.
“Nate the barista.” Did I say it aloud?
He halts, as quickly as Mach did on his master’s command. “Yes. Oh, hi again.” Nate barely glances at me. “Come here, boy.” He slaps his thigh and Mach trots to his master. With zero fuss he allows Nate to snap an Eagles leash on the Phillies collar I hadn’t noticed.
Nate straightens, his gaze laser-focused on me. Butterfly activity increases.
“I’m sorry about that. I hope Mach didn’t frighten you too badly.”
“Oh, no, he’s a sweetheart of a boy.” Oops. Sarcasm is my go-to when I’m discombobulated. “It’s…it’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, is it, Mach?” He shoots the dog a stern glance and I realize his annoyance is with Mach, not me. I let out a breath.
“That’s a cool name for a dog. Are you a pilot?”
Puzzled lines appear between very nice brows that top even nicer eyes. Yep, still sexy gray. “Ah, no.” Realization dawns in the form of a quick laugh, which makes sexy Nate more appealing. Friendly. As if we could become friends. “His name isn’t Mach like Mach 1. You mean the speed of sound, right?”
I nod, embarrassed. I have a way of making everything about me when I’m stressed out.
“I named him Macchiato, as in the coffee drink. I call him Mach for short, right boy?”
Mach the wolf-in-disguise thumps his tail while never removing his adoring gaze from Nate. Nate responds with a quick scratch behind the ears that are nearly as big as Nate’s hands. Mach looks like a German shepherd, but much larger. Or maybe it’s the proximity.
“That makes sense.” I stare at Mach, unable to look at Nate. What was with the adolescent tongue-tiedness that suffocates me? As I look at Mach, take in his full gargantuan size, I also notice his sable coat. “Because of his coloring, right?”
“Exactly. He’s like a dark shot of espresso topped with a dollop of froth.”
Mach whimpers, his eyes imploring me. To leave him and his master alone?
“He wants you to pet him, but you don’t have to.”
“I’m more used to birds.” I shoot him a quick smile and hope it isn’t as pinched as it feels. “I have a parrot. Come here, Mach.”
He eagerly closes the distance with two Mach steps, which are equivalent to twenty of mine. I pet his head and he twists to lick my hand before leaning his head full-bore into my hand, groaning in pleasure. I can’t help it, I giggle.
“He’s so soft. I’ve never met such a big German shepherd.”
“He’s a Shiloh shepherd. Think wolf appearance with a Labrador’s temperament.”
Mach proceeds to lie down and roll on his back for a belly rub. I comply, getting on my haunches and running my fingers through the soft white fluff. “Good boy, Mach.”
“He likes you. But to be fair, he’s affection-driven.”
“I’ve been around a lot of dogs, but don’t have one at the moment. I have my parrot, Ralph.”
“Oh, I know you do. And you’re a Navy pilot who’s opening up an international curio shop.”
“Retired Navy. And it’s more than a curio shop. It’s a cultural experience.” Why can’t I drop the know-it-all tone? It’s not like—Oh crap. I’ve got the hots for the hottie. “Wait. How do you know all of this?”
His eyebrow raises in an expression of comic disbelief that tugs a serious belly laugh out of me. “It’s Stonebridge. You grew up here, you should know. I’ve only been here six months, and everybody knows what DNA traits I carry by now.”
“I’ve been back for almost as long. Sure, I’m from here, but I’ve been gone for a long time. What brings you here?”
He gives me a really? expression. Caught.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I heard that you moved here from New York, to help out your parents.”
“That’s accurate by about fifty percent. It’s my Mom I’m helping out, as she takes care of my Dad. They live on the other side of the block. My backyard backs up to theirs.” He motions to my almost-house—his house—with his thumb. “This one’s mine.”
“I considered buying this house, but my shop’s building has two floors of living space above it. It’s the better choice for my situation.” I’m a little disconcerted that we both liked the same house.
His expression sobers. “I’m sorry about what happened in your shop. Everyone in town is still in shock.”
“Thanks. Me, too. Frannie is, was, a big part of Stonebridge. She and Ken have been pillars, I guess you could say.” No matter that they’d had trouble in their marriage. Life happened to everyone. So did death, but no one deserved to be murdered in cold blood.
“When are you opening your store?”
“The original plan was Small Business Saturday, Thanksgiving weekend.”
“You can still do that, then. It’s over a week away.”
“Yes, but…” But I can’t get the image of Frannie’s corpse out of my mind. And I don’t think customers will, either.
Awkward silence stretches and I toe the cold pavement, the neon pink running shoes I thought were a great idea seeming juvenile considering the conversation’s grave turn.
“I hope you can let what happened in your shop go enough to enjoy your grand opening. Again, I’m sorry that Mach startled you. We’ll let you get back to your run.”
“Oh, I don’t run anymore. More like fast walk.”
“Your next coffee’s on me and Mach.” He gives me a wave. Mach stares at me, and I wonder if he’s a birder.
Too soon, girlfriend. How can I be jumping to Mach meeting Ralph right now?
“Thanks.”
I walk on and wonder if Nate’s watching me. But when I turn to look, he and Mach have disappeared. I lengthen my stride, eager to get back to the shop, as if Nate’s good wishes have rekindled my enthusiasm, made the specter of Frannie’s murder a little dimmer.