Nora Roberts - The Next Always

“The ball’s clean now.”

“I bet. And your pj’s are wet.” She set her brush aside to tug off the damp top, then dried his hands, his arms, his sweet little chest. “Open up.”

“I brushed real good.” He opened, and huffed out a big breath to prove it.

“Very nice. Go get another pajama top.”

“I have to change the bottoms, too, or they won’t match.”

“Murphy—” She bit back the impatience. Two minutes, and they’d be tucked in. “Of course you do. Make it fast.”

She used the same towel to wipe up the water on the counter, the floor, draped it over the shower bar to dry out before it went in the hamper.

When she went into the boys’ bedroom she spotted Murphy in a dog’s bed with Yoda, and Ben wiggling under the covers in Harry’s bed. Liam sprawled in his own with the glazed, droopy eyes of the nearly passed out.

“Murphy, you’re not sleeping in the dog’s bed.”

“But he gets lonely.”

“He won’t. Ben can sleep with him.”

“But Mom!” Harry clutched at the dog as she wondered how many times she’d heard those two words today.

“He can’t sleep on a top bunk, Harry. He could fall out, or try to jump out, and get hurt. You don’t want him to hurt himself. Come on now. It’s late.”

She managed to get the dog down, set him in his proper bed while Murphy—executing impressive fake snoring—continued to curl up with Yoda.

“No chance.” Clare hauled Murphy up, dumped him in his lower bunk. “Stay,” she ordered the dogs, and kissed Murphy, then Liam, then Harry. “And that goes for boys as well as dogs. Good night.”

She’d made it halfway to her bedroom when she heard the distinctive sound of puppy toenails crossing the floor, and Murphy’s muffled giggle as, she imagined, the dogs joined him in bed.

Discipline started, in earnest, tomorrow, she promised herself. Remembering her brush, she backtracked to the bathroom. She brushed her hair out as she walked back. Once she got the makeup cleaned off, she’d go make that tea. Check the boys one more time, then settle down.

She really should write the copy for the store’s upcoming newsletter, but she was too damn tired. She’d get an early start on it tomorrow.

She caught the movement as she crossed the bedroom toward her little bath, and whirled toward it. The hairbrush dropped with a clatter as Sam stepped out behind the bedroom door, closed it.

“You’re going to want to be quiet.” He spoke casually, with a smile on his face. “You wouldn’t want to disturb your sons. They could get hurt.”

At Vesta, Beckett took another pull on his beer. It felt good to kick back, hang with Avery, talk about nothing important or in particular.

“Are you heading over to Chuck and Lisa’s party?” she asked him.

Only a couple blocks over, he thought, and plenty of his friends, and both of his brothers would be there. “I’m going to pass.”

“Aw, no partying without your girlfriend?”

“Smartass. What’s your excuse?”

“I was going to, but my feet betrayed me. What’s wrong with us, Beck? We’ve always been up for a party.”

“You’re right. Tell you what. You can be my date. We’ll go for an hour. Buffy and Carpenter X need to preserve their reps.”

“Can I have a piggyback ride there and back?” she asked as Hope came in.

“I was hoping you were still here.”

“Problem?” Beckett asked her.

“I can’t get into the inn. My key won’t unlock the damn door, and there are lights flashing upstairs. I was going to check, see if it’s some electrical glitch, but I can’t get the stupid door to open.”

He got up as she spoke, looked out the front glass door of the restaurant. The glass in the doors leading from E&D to the porch flashed on and off like lightning strikes.

“She’s been in a mood the last few days.” At Hope’s arched brow, Beckett shrugged. “I’m just saying. I’ll go check it out.”

“I’m coming with you. This key thing is infuriating. It worked fine a few hours ago.”

“Wait for me!” Avery hurried after them. “Vampire Slayer, remember?”

“I don’t think you’ll find any vampires at the inn,” Beckett commented as they crossed the street.

“You never know. Plus temperamental ghosts are cake for the Slayer.”

Beckett pulled out his keys, jingling them in his hand while they walked down the sidewalk to the back of the building.

“Could you try mine?” Hope passed it to him.

Beckett slid it into the lock, turned it. And glanced at Hope when the lock clicked, and the door opened smoothly.

“I’m telling you it wouldn’t work five minutes ago. If it’s your ghost playing games, I don’t know why she’s mad at me.”

“Like I said.” Beckett flipped on the light in Reception. “She’s been in a mood.”

At that moment, the light he’d just turned on began to flash. Upstairs doors slammed sharp as gunshots.

“Some mood,” Avery murmured.

“I’ll go see what’s going on. Stay here.”

“Like hell.” But Avery grabbed Hope’s hand as they followed Beckett. “Maybe it’s a Halloween thing. Her way of marking the date.”

“Doesn’t sound celebratory,” Hope stated.

“I think she’s been kind of sad the last couple days,” Beckett began. As he approached, the porch doors in E&D flew open. Inside the lights flicked like a strobe.

“Maybe pissed.”

“Maybe we need Ghostbusters,” Avery whispered.

“Okay, Lizzy, cut it out!” Beckett raised his voice, put irritation in it. As he strode in, steam billowed in rolling clouds out of the bath. “Well, what the fuck? You don’t like the tile pattern, the goddamn tub? Change rooms.”

“Beckett.” Hope laid a hand on his arm, squeezed hard as her voice trembled. “Look at the bathroom mirror.”

Through the clouds he watched letters appear, as if someone wrote with a finger on the steamy glass.

“Help,” he read. “Lizzy, if you’re in trouble—” He broke off as the writing continued.

“Oh God.” Even as Avery turned to run, Beckett bulleted by her. “Call the cops. Call my brothers. Now. Tell them to get to Clare’s.”

“I’ve got the cops.” Hope punched numbers into her phone as she ran.

“I’ve got Owen. And we’re coming with you.”

Don’t scream , Clare ordered herself. The boys would hear, would come. She wouldn’t risk it. “You broke into my house.”

“What choice did you give me? It’s time you and I had a private talk, time for you to understand how things are going to be. Why don’t you sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down.”

“I said sit down ! One of the things you’re going to understand is doing what you’re told when I tell you.”

She sat, braced, on the bottom edge of the bed. “You made a mistake, Sam, breaking into my house. If you leave now we’ll let it go at that. Just a mistake.”

“No, you made the mistake when you set the cops on me.” He held up his hands. “Well, I can let that go, but you’re going to learn to show me respect. You’re going to remember who I am.”

“I know who you are.”

“And I know you lack self-confidence. I know that lack caused you to play hard-to-get, make me work for it. Didn’t I give you time, when you came back? I couldn’t have been more considerate, more patient, given the situation you’d gotten yourself into. Running off with Clint Brewster that way.”

“Clint was my husband.”

“And he’s dead, isn’t he? Left you with two brats and another in your belly so you had to come crawling back here to this hole-in-the-wall town.”