Anna Stewart - A Dad For Charlie

“I’ll call if we need you.” Paige pulled Mrs. Hastings’s free hand toward her and dropped today’s pills into her wrinkled palm. “Take them, please.”

“Don’t need a babysitter.”

“Apparently you do,” Paige said with a forced lightness of tone. Dealing with elderly patients took care and patience. Fighting them did no good and often created more problems than solutions. “I think you did this just to get me back here more frequently.”

Mrs. Hastings smirked, opened her now-clear eyes. “You have enough on your plate without worrying about an old woman.”

“I’m not worrying about an old woman—I’m worrying about my friend. Besides, Charlie would never forgive me if something happened to you. She loves coming here. Now take them, please.” She watched, satisfied when Mrs. Hastings followed instructions. “I’m going to go into the kitchen to finish fixing our tea. And if you’re feeling better in a few minutes, I’ll bring you one of the blueberry scones Charlie helped me bake yesterday.”

“Would be nice to see your Charlie again. You’re a good girl, Paige.” Mrs. Hastings caught hold of her hand as Paige got up. “I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

“You’re nothing of the sort. Now, you just rest and I’ll be back in a bit.” Paige returned to the kitchen and turned the kettle back on, sparing a glance over her shoulder to Fletch as he replaced the dead bolt on the back door. “It’s a good thing you were here.”

“Looks like.” Fletch shook his head. “Reminds me of my grandfather. They can seem so...”

“Fragile.” Paige nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“You were very good with her.”

“I’ve had some experience with patie—um, situations like hers.” Paige bit the inside of her cheek and reminded herself to choose her words more carefully. “An elderly neighbor, where we lived before, had similar issues. Charlie and I used to check on her.” Had it really been over a year since she’d seen or spoken to Mrs. Brennan? Paige could only hope one of her grandchildren had stepped up to oversee her care.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you talk about your past.” Fletch angled his screwdriver differently to pop the old lock off. “So much for my theory you and Charlie sprung out of someone’s flower bed.”

“I’m not one to dwell on what happened before.” Paige’s heart jumped in her chest. She spent most of her down hours doing just that. Could she be around the man for more than five minutes without lying? “How are you doing, Mrs. Hastings?” she called over her shoulder.

“I’m not feeling fragile, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

Paige chuckled. Yeah, Mrs. Hastings wouldn’t be needing a ride to the hospital today.

“Fletch, I expect you to stay for tea once you’re done with those locks,” Mrs. Hastings called.

Fletch’s cheeks went red. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this side of you before.” Nor had Paige ever seen him look so uncomfortable or out of his element. She found it more charming than she expected.

“Once my high school principal, always my high school principal.” He bent down to retrieve the new lock and screw it into place. “I swear, I step foot inside this house and I’m a teenager again.”

Paige poured the hot water into the teapot to warm it before brewing—a lesson she’d received on her first visit a few months before. “It’s a nice problem to have.” She rose up on her toes to look out into the overgrown yard and spotted a collection of tools resting against the side of the house she didn’t remember seeing before. “Mrs. Hastings, have you been doing yard work?”

“Isn’t going to get done on its own. Stop snooping on me.”

Fletch leaned out the back door for a quick look, then shook his head.

“I hate weeds!” Mrs. Hastings announced.

“Right. Weed hater. Adding that to the list.” Paige pulled out her phone and tapped open her calendar, looking through for a spare few hours. “I get off from the diner early on Thursday, Mrs. Hastings. I can bring you an early dinner if you’d like.” And while she was there she could tackle some of that yard work.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Mrs. Hastings repeated after a long hesitation.

“If it were a bother, I wouldn’t offer.” Paige added it to her schedule, avoiding Fletch’s curious look.

“I do like Ursula’s club sandwich,” came Mrs. Hastings’s reply.

“Who doesn’t?” Fletch said as he closed up, tested and locked the back door. “One down, two to go. Hold that tea for me, will you? I’ll just do the shed and then the front door.”

“Sure, yeah, okay.” Paige watched him trudge through the overgrown grass and weeds on his way to the rusted-out storage shed in the backyard as she pulled out a third dainty flower-painted teacup and arranged it on the tray beside the other two. “Deputy Fletcher does tea. Who knew?”

* * *

“I APPRECIATE YOU not bringing up Jasper or the break-ins while we were in there,” Fletch said a little over an hour later as he and Paige walked down Mrs. Hastings’s front steps. “She’s already worked up enough reading about them in the paper.”

“A lot of people are.” Paige retrieved her bike and walked beside him. “I hear plenty of them talking about it at the diner. I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about Jasper.”

“Contrary to what you might think, and the fact we did find evidence of his presence at one of the houses, I haven’t declared him guilty, Paige. But I would like to find him and talk to him.” Fletcher glanced at her. “Don’t suppose you have any idea where he might be.”

“No.” She visibly swallowed and flinched. “Why would I know?”

Why would she, indeed? But it was clear she was hiding something. “I’m going to take another walk through the houses, check over the notes again. See if there might be something else we missed the first time.”

“Well, that’s something, I suppose. You made Mrs. Hastings happy, staying for tea.”

“I try to make everyone happy.” Fletch hid his disappointment at not being given more credit for taking her suggestion and looking for answers beyond Jasper. “You really were good with her. Put her at ease, got her numbers stable.” With her blood sugar level, they’d gotten their charge settled in her room, an afternoon talk show on the TV, her latest crocheting project across her lap and a fresh-brewed pot of tea on the table beside her. “Am I wrong in thinking there’s more to your story than an old neighbor with similar issues?”

“If I tell you will you let me help you with Jasper?”

He chuckled. “No.”

Paige glared at him, and when he glanced down, he saw her knuckles whiten around the handles of her bike. “Huh. Well, you’re honest at least.” She swung a leg over the bar, but Fletch darted out in front, grabbed hold of the bike and kept her in place. She arched a challenging brow at him. “Mind telling me what all this new determination about the case is about? Why can’t it wait until Luke gets back?”

“Because it can’t.” Fletch clenched his jaw. He should just tell her the truth, that he needed to get his case closed if Luke was going to keep his job, but that would just open up a whole other avenue of questions...and probably send Paige down the warpath to City Hall.

Not even Mayor Gil Hamilton deserved to be on Paige Cooper’s hit list.

“How about you tell me how you first started having tea with Mrs. Hastings?” If he couldn’t get her to open up the direct way, he was happy to take the long way around.

Paige planted her backside on the seat, her feet on the ground, and looked at him. Before she turned to gaze at the house across from Mrs. Hastings. “She caught me daydreaming in the yard over there.”