Софи Райан - The Fast Аnd Тhe Furriest

I hesitated.

“Am I overstepping?” he asked. “Are you seeing someone?”

Was I seeing someone? Lord knows I had three would-be fairy godmothers who kept trying to push me in that direction. “It’s not that,” I said. “I have to go out of town tomorrow morning and I’m not sure what time I’ll be back.”

He gave me that dazzling smile again. “How about you call me when you get back and if you’ve already had dinner we can at least have dessert. I’ve talked way too much about my life. I’d like to learn more about yours.”

He was charming and easy to look at. And there were more questions I wanted to ask him. I nodded. “All right.”

It was a quiet afternoon at the shop. I got a coat of primer on my table and Mac and I debated whether we wanted to drive to Rockport a week from this upcoming one to prowl a neighborhood-wide yard sale. Based on last year’s success we decided it was worth the time and gas.

When I went back inside I found Charlotte had come and set up the ironing board by the workbench.

She smiled as I came level with her. “How about coming for supper tonight?” she said.

I hesitated. Was this another attempt to get Nick and me together?

“Nicolas isn’t going to be there,” she said as though I’d somehow transmitted my thoughts.

I didn’t want her to think I was still fighting with Nick. “I just don’t want to talk about the case with—”

She put a hand on my arm. “I understand,” she said. “It’s all right.”

“I would like to come,” I said. “I just need to take Elvis home first.”

As if he knew we were talking about him, the subject of our conversation came walking across the top of the workbench. He tilted his head to one side, doing his cute thing, and Charlotte reached over to pet him.

“Bring him along.”

Elvis started to purr and looked in my direction, almost seeming to smile.

“Thank you,” I said. “We both accept your invitation.”

Charlotte smiled and went back to ironing the lace curtains she wanted to add to the front window display.

I gave Elvis a scratch behind his ear, leaning in close to his furry face. “You’re such a suck-up,” I said.

He licked my chin, his way of saying “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Charlotte had also invited Mac to dinner but he was going sailing so he took a rain check. Charlotte, Elvis and I drove over to her little yellow house after work. I’d spent a lot of time in that house growing up and I knew my way around it and the entire tree-lined court as well as I had my grandmother’s house.

I set the little table in the kitchen as Charlotte put water on to boil for our spaghetti. She pulled out lettuce, an English cucumber, a couple of radishes and some tiny red tomatoes. I washed the lettuce as Charlotte chopped the vegetables for the salad. While we worked I told her that I’d shared her idea for offering classes at Legacy Place with Mr. P. and Mac.

“They liked the idea,” I said. I reached for one of the tiny tomatoes in the colander and popped it into my mouth. They were sweet and delicious from ripening in the August sunshine in Charlotte’s backyard.

“I have the rental agent’s business card,” she said. “That’s probably who you’d want to talk to.”

“Are you thinking about selling this house?” I immediately asked.

“Of course not,” she said, putting a hand over the strainer as I tried to swipe another tomato. “I have a business card for Coleridge’s Funeral Home as well. It doesn’t mean I’m planning to avail myself of their services anytime soon. I just like to be prepared.”

Something caught her eye on the stove behind us and she turned to check the spaghetti pot. I took advantage of her momentary distraction to pop a tomato in my mouth. I did my best to look innocent when Charlotte eyed me, a hint of suspicion in her gaze but in the end I gave myself away when I couldn’t figure out how to talk around a mouthful of tomato.

We were just starting to eat when the back door opened and Nick stepped into the kitchen.

Charlotte immediately turned to me. “I didn’t know he was coming,” she said.

Nick caught sight of me as she spoke and the smile faded from his face. “I can go,” he said.

I shook my head. “That’s silly. This is your mother’s house. You shouldn’t have to leave.”

“Well, I don’t want to make you leave,” he said, fingering the dark stubble on his chin.

I twirled my fork in my spaghetti and managed to spear a tiny meatball along with the pasta. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said, putting the whole thing in my mouth and making a mental note that the next thing Rose and Charlotte were teaching me to make was Charlotte’s spaghetti sauce.

I took my time chewing my food. Having a little fun at Nick’s expense was probably going to come back to bite me. I finally looked at him. “We’ve disagreed in the past and we’ll disagree again. I’m certain of that.”

Nick laughed. “I can’t argue with that logic,” he said.

“Have you eaten?” Charlotte asked.

“You don’t have to feed me, Mom,” he said.

“So it’s just a coincidence you stopped in at suppertime?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Color flooded Nick’s cheeks. He dropped his gaze for a moment. “Busted,” he said. “Please feed me.” He reminded me of a mischievous little boy.

Charlotte got to her feet.

I stood up as well. “Sit,” I said, waving her back to her chair. “Your supper’s getting cold.” I got a pot from one of the bottom kitchen cupboards.

“So is yours,” she said.

I handed Nick the pot and sat back down.

Nick laughed. “Sarah’s right,” he said. “She’s not subtle, but she’s right. I can make spaghetti.” He put water in the pot and set it on the stove, then he brought a place mat and utensils to the table.

I slid over to make room for him.

Once he’d set his place he sat down, folded his hands on his place mat and turned to look at me. “Have you found out who killed Erin Fellowes yet?”

“Nicolas!” Charlotte exclaimed.

He leaned toward me. “It’s okay. She didn’t use my middle name. I’m not really in any trouble.” His dark eyes danced with humor.

I wanted to be mad at him, but I couldn’t help but be charmed, at least a little.

I shook my head. “No,” I said, “but we do have a couple of leads.”

“You went to see Stevie Carleton.”

I wasn’t surprised he knew. I was certain he was keeping fairly close tabs on what the Angels were doing. “We did,” I said, wiping a bit of sauce from my chin.

“You know it wasn’t her.” He said the words as a statement of fact, not a question.

“What makes you so sure?” I asked.

Nick glanced over at the pot of water on the stove. “She must have told you about the flat tire she had the day Erin Fellowes was killed. By the time it was fixed it was too late in the day for her to have made it here. Even if she drives like you do.”

“I take it Michelle verified that?” I said.

Nick nodded. “I take it Alfred did the same,” he said.

I nodded.

Charlotte picked up her plate and got to her feet. “Decaf?” she asked.

“That sounds good,” I said. “You sit. I’ll make it.”

Nick put a hand on my arm. “No, I’ll get it,” he said. He got to his feet. “Let me make the coffee, Mom,” he said. “I’m trying to show Sarah that I have more than my boyish good looks to offer.”

Charlotte looked at me. “This whole helpful act isn’t actually working, is it?”

I held out my hand, palm down, and waggled it from side to side. “It’s iffy,” I said, “but he is cute trying, so why don’t we let him keep going?”