Cape Hope Capers Page 2

  “No kidding! That’s amazing! You know, I just found an old picture last night.” I rubbed my arms to calm the goosebumps. “A young girl standing in front of that house. It was stuck in an old book at the store. Isn’t it funny, you bringing that name up.”

  “That’s eerie,” she agreed. “I guess it’s meant to be that I got this job. I’ll take your discovery as a good omen.”

  “What sort of restoration has to be done? I never got the impression the house fell into ruin.”

  “No, it didn’t, but the last owners were modern.” She said the word like it was unfit for human ears. “I’d love to get my hands on them, but they’re long gone. They moved overseas after gifting the house to the town. I have to replicate the house’s style the way it was at the time it was built, at the turn of the twentieth century.”

  “Boy, I’d love to have enough money that I’d be able to gift a house to the town,” I sighed.

  “You and me both,” Holly agreed as she finished setting things up.

  “If you want that sorta life, don’t bother getting yourself hooked up with that detective,” Dad advised in his usual gruff way.

  My cheeks flamed. “Dad! Jeez. Hooked up?”

  “What? You don’t think I know the lingo? You think your old man doesn’t know things?” He carried the lasagna to the table and left it to sit on a trivet in the center. “I think there’s a lot of things about me that might surprise you, young lady.”

  “Please, don’t tell me all the things at once. My poor heart might not be able to take it.” I took the bread from the oven, which Dad insisted on slicing because evidently I was incapable of handling a knife with a sprained wrist.

  Meanwhile, I had no idea why dinner was happening at all. Yes, it traditionally took place at that time of day, but not usually with my dad. Not when he requested it.

  “So, what’s going on with you?” I asked him, since coming out and asking why he wanted to have dinner would’ve been rude.

  “The usual. Work. You know how it is.”

  I eyed him up and down. “Liar, liar.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Your pants are literally on fire. They’re smoking right now.” I waved a hand around to clear the invisible smoke.

  “Honey, just tell her. I know you’re dying to.” Holly wiped her mouth with her napkin, and one look her way revealed an absolutely glowing smile. She was radiant—the girl was already pretty, but now she practically shone.

  A funny feeling washed over me just then. Like something was off. She was beaming, Dad was grinning like a goof, and they were making lovey-dovey eyes at each other from across the table.

  Engaged? No, Holly wasn’t wearing a ring.

  She also wasn’t drinking wine, when she normally had a glass of red when we ate pasta.

  Oh, jeez.

  “Emma, sweetheart, this might come as a shock,” Dad began, somehow managing to sound gruff while also grinning goofily. “We both hope you can come to share our happiness about this.”

  “Okay,” I whispered. My appetite, which had been just about ravenous on sitting down, had started to wane. I felt like a little girl all of a sudden. Like I was shrinking in my chair. Pretty soon I’d need a telephone book to sit on. But I didn’t know if they even made telephone books anymore.

  He took a deep breath, eyes still fixed on Holly. He then said the four little words I never would’ve expected otherwise. “We’re having a baby.”

  Oh, boy. I let it wash over me for a minute, allowed it to sink in. Pretty soon I knew I was taking too long to express my reaction. Something about the pair of them staring at me, waiting, told me so.

  “Wow,” I breathed. “I mean, wow. This is… wow!”

  “I don’t want you to feel any sort of way about it,” Holly was quick to assure me, reaching over and closing a hand over mine. “And if you’re unhappy, I understand. I really do.”

  “Oh, no, no! I’m not unhappy. Really, I’m not.” I looked at Dad to make sure he understood. “I’m sorry I didn’t jump for joy. You deserve that. I was surprised, is all.” I let out a laugh I knew sounded nervous, but it was the best I could do.

  “We’re very happy about it.” And he looked happy. Happier than I’d seen him in a long time. “Can you believe it? I’m gonna be a father again. At my age.”

  “You’ll do just as good a job as you did the first go-around. I know it.” I got up and gave him a hug even though my heart wasn’t entirely in it. I really was happy for him, very happy.

  And for Holly, who didn’t have any kids and looked like this was a dream coming true for her. She deserved my wholehearted support most of all. I pulled her from her chair and threw my arms around her. “How are you feeling? When are you due?”

  “I’m feeling great. A little tired, but good. The doctor wants me to take it easy, of course.” She rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh.

  “We’ve talked about this,” Dad muttered.

  “Why do you have to take it easy?” I asked. “And if that’s the case, why the heck did you go to all the trouble of cooking dinner? I’m cooking for you next time.”

  “I’ll take you up on that,” she smiled. “But no, it’s just because this is considered a geriatric pregnancy since I’m over thirty-five.”

  “Ew.” My nose wrinkled. “You’d think they’d come up with a nicer name. It makes you sound…”

  “Ancient,” she groaned. “It makes me sound ancient. I keep inspecting my face for wrinkles and age spots.”

  “Nothing wrong with either of those things,” Dad muttered, examining the back of his hand.

  I shrugged. “I guess they know what they’re talking about, even if you don’t have so much as a touch of grey in all the gorgeous hair.”

  “I color my hair,” she admitted in a whisper.

  “Oh. It’s beautiful.” There went my foot, falling out of my mouth as always. “Anyway, I don’t normally say this, but he knows best and you should listen to him.” I jerked a thumb in Dad’s direction.

  “Should I be glad to hear that?” Dad asked behind me.

  We sat back down and I made a point of steering the conversation all over the baby front to keep the good vibes going. Holly was due on New Year’s Eve, which of course I squealed over before we wondered whether she’d make it until midnight or have one of those babies that ends up on the news for being born moments after.

  Meanwhile, inside? Inside, I was a mess. I couldn’t help wondering what this would do to Mom. And Darcy. And how they’d find a way to take it out on me, being the messenger and all.

  For one wild, panicked moment I considered not saying a word about it at all. But how long could I keep it from them in a town like Cape Hope? Someone would see her and tell Mom and that might be just as bad. If not worse.

  She deserved to hear it from me.

  Maybe after I took a six-month trip to Nepal or something.

  Chapter Three

  “And she’s gonna die. I mean, she’s really gonna die.” I shoved a piece of bacon in my mouth without hardly tasting it. “Not before she kills me.”

  “Why would your mom kill you?” Joe asked, signaling the waitress for more coffee.

  “Because Holly’s pregnant. Duh.” I rolled my eyes. “You know how it is. People are always trying to kill the messenger when it isn’t the messenger’s fault.”

  “I don’t think it’ll make her angry.”

  “I don’t think you know my mother.”

  “I’ve spent time with her. Enough time that I can tell you she doesn’t seem like the sort of woman who’d bite your head off just because somebody else is pregnant. I can’t even imagine her being upset if you went to her tomorrow and announced a pregnancy.”

  “Are you kidding? She already has names picked out. For my children.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But this isn’t the same,” I groaned. “This is her husband. Her husband of more than twenty years. He not only found a new girlfriend in, like, no time fla
t, but now she’s pregnant. With his child,” I hissed.

  “Oh, thanks for the clarification. I was wondering if the baby was his.”

  “I’m starting to think you’re not taking this seriously.”

  He shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just that he’s not her husband anymore.”

  “I know. But in her heart… It’s not easy for a person to let go of such a long relationship. I wouldn’t know—I mean, I do know. Sort of. But we’re not talking twenty years.”

  “Oh? What’s the story?” He folded his arms on the table. Strong arms. I remembered how they felt around me and wished I didn’t.

  “We don’t need to talk about that.”

  “Sure, we do. You’re the queen of asking prying questions. One might call it a talent. Or a curse.”

  I narrowed my eyes in what I hoped was a menacing manner. “I’m not sure I like this relaxed version of you. The one who smiles a lot more and says obnoxious things.”

  His head tipped to the side. “Do you have something in your eye?”

  “Shut up.” Another piece of bacon. “I found my fiancé cheating on me months ago. In our bed. In our apartment, which is now mine.”

  “Ouch. What a jerk.”

  “Thank you. No, it wasn’t twenty years together, but it was painful. I’ve managed not to throw anything at the girl he was with, who by the way I see in town from time to time and yes, she stuck threatening notes under my windshield wipers—”

  “What?”

  “But it’s okay. Still, if I saw her on the street and she looked pregnant, it would… it would hurt.” I touched my chest before eating another piece of bacon. “It would hurt my heart.”

  “If you’re worried about your heart, you should lay off the bacon.”

  “Hmm. Remember when I was the person who flew to your side when you were in the hospital? That was me, right? I asked you to come to breakfast so I could ask your advice.”

  For the first time since we’d met up, he didn’t get sarcastic. He unfolded his arms, sitting up straight. “You’re right. All this time off must be going to my head. I think you’re right; this might hit your mom kinda hard. It’ll be best for her to hear it from you, as much as you don’t want to be the one to tell her.”

  Darn him. The sincerity in his voice mixed with the effect sunlight had on his ridiculous face—highlighting the dark stubble on his cheeks, turning his jade eyes into something closer to green fire—made my stomach go all fluttery.

  I looked down at my plate, which was basically a pile of cholesterol and sugar. But those two things, even combined, were less dangerous than the sight of Joe Sullivan when he was being all tender and understanding.

  “And there’s my sister, too, and something tells me she’ll be even harder to bring around.” I stirred a bunch of eggs around with my fork. “She’s never gotten over Dad finding somebody new, especially somebody so much younger than him.”

  “I can imagine that would be tough, too. And icky.”

  I snorted. “Icky? Yeah, that’s a good word for it. She feels very icky about the whole thing. I just want everybody to get along. I want us to be a family.”

  “Things are never going to be the way they used to be. I know that’s hard to accept. Maybe this is the new normal. This is the way things are now. Your sister needs to come around in her own time. Who knows? A new baby might be just what it takes.”

  “That’s a lot of pressure for one baby.”

  “I think you’ll all make it work. I’ve met both your parents, and they’re good people. I’m an excellent judge of character.”

  “I guess that makes you good at your job.” I took a mouthful of French toast.

  “I guess so. I generally know when a person’s bullshitting when I ask questions.”

  “Did you think I was when you interrogated me?”

  “That wasn’t an interrogation. How many times do I have to remind you of that?”

  “Anyway, how are you feeling? What’s going on with you? Are you more relaxed now?”

  “I’m a lot more relaxed when I’m not with you,” he informed me with an overly sweet smile.

  “I guess I shouldn’t have invited you out for breakfast.”

  “You invited me for breakfast—in a café rivaling your mother’s, by the way, but I won’t tell her that—”

  “You will die!” I whispered.

  “—so you could use me as a sounding board,” he concluded. “Don’t act like this was all out of the goodness of your heart.”

  Again, I stirred my eggs. “Maybe I wanted to check in with you. Make sure you’re doing okay. You only had your attack a few days ago.”

  “I think those eggs are scrambled enough.”

  “Stirring them keeps me from throwing them in your smirking face. So.” I continued to very deliberately stir while staring at him.

  “Point taken. But thanks for caring. I know you do. I have a bad habit of being sarcastic when I don’t know how to thank a person for being nice to me.”

  There was an awkward silence thanks to that. A change of subject was needed. And I had the perfect topic.

  “Look at the neat picture I found.” I bent, fishing around in my bag for the book. “It was at Darcy’s shop. Who knows how old it is. I don’t know who the girl is, but I wanna find out.”

  He leaned in to look at the photo which I placed on the table. “Hmm. Interesting. Nice house, too.”

  “It’s one of the nicest houses in town, and was owned by one of the richest families. I can’t stop thinking about her. I want to learn who she was.”

  “Why? She’s probably just somebody from the family.”

  “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Doesn’t she look sad? Around the eyes, mostly?”

  “She does, I guess.”

  “I wonder if she was ever happy again. You know? Like, did things change? Did her life pick up? Why was she so sad in the first place? The family died off ages ago. Why was she in front of the house, on the lawn? What was she doing there?”

  “Landscaping?”

  “You’re a lot of help.” I snatched it away and tucked it inside the book. “You clearly lack the sensitivity to appreciate this poor, pregnant girl’s life.”

  “You don’t know she was poor.”

  “I didn’t mean it literally. And think about it: she’s not wearing a ring and those were different times. This picture’s at least sixty years old, maybe seventy. It wasn’t smiled upon back then.”

  “True, but if she’s a member of that rich family, she probably had a safety net. Her parents probably took care of her.”

  “Or,” I countered, lowering my voice and my brow, “they sent her away. They banished her from the family along with her baby.”

  “If they wanted to get rid of her, they would’ve done it while she was pregnant. And then brought her back once the baby was born. Right? I’m not as up-to-speed as you clearly are on these things.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Doesn’t that make sense, though? They wouldn’t have let her hang around the house. In town. Where everybody would know the daughter of a wealthy family got pregnant outside marriage.”

  “I can’t help but feel like you put a pin in my balloon and popped it.”

  “Why?” He laughed. “What’s so wrong with that? Is this story only interesting if she was rich?”

  “Drop it.”

  “No, I wanna know!”

  “These eggs are still throwable.”

  He held up his hands, laughing. “Okay, fine. Truce. I don’t feel like leaving here with egg on my face.”

  Which reminded me. “Oh, shoot, I have to go. I promised Mom I’d be in this morning. I kinda sorta might’ve told her we were hanging out.” I signaled for the check, eyeing the clock.

  “Because you knew she’d give you the okay if she thought we were spending time together?”

  “What about it? I know how the woman thinks. She’s completely focused on getting little Elinor and Frederick into the w
orld.”

  “Who?”

  “Those are they names she’s picked out for my kids,” I explained. “She’s the world’s biggest Jane Austen fan. Hence my name. And Darcy’s.”

  His lips twitched.

  “Shut it,” I warned. “Is this in any way surprising, given my mother?”

  “Not even a little bit,” he admitted. “Let me know how it goes?”

  I slid cash into the folder holding the receipt and got myself together. “Are you kidding? You’ll probably hear about it on the news before I get the chance.”

  Chapter Four

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” I ran into the café carrying Lola under one arm. “I lost track of time.”

  Instead of chiding me for being late, Mom gasped in horror. “What’s wrong with Lola?”

  I stopped in my tracks so I could stare at the woman who brought me into the world. “I could’ve been in an accident that kept me from getting here when I said I’d be in, but you’re more concerned about the dog?” I looked at Lola. She looked up at me and probably wondered when she’d get her next treat.

  “You’re carrying her!”

  “Yes, I am. Because bless her heart, those short little legs don’t help when I’m in a hurry.” I set her up on her little doggy bed in the kitchen and tossed her a treat to keep her occupied before washing my hands and pulling back my long, blond hair. Blond hair that was awfully limp and lifeless. I wasn’t one for the salon, not unless there was a special occasion happening, but I wondered if a trip wasn’t in store.

  It had nothing to do with the presence of both Deke and Joe. Nothing whatsoever.

  “How was your morning rendezvous?” Mom asked in way too loud a voice as I slid behind her to take the other register. As always, the café was packed at this time of the morning. Especially in summer, when visitors to the town’s many bed and breakfasts were having a stroll.

  I happened to meet Mrs. Merriweather’s eyes and noticed how they danced. For a woman in her eighties, she still had quite the fire blazing in her furnace. “It wasn’t a rendezvous,” I whispered, shaking my head. I knew she could hear me, thanks to her ultrasensitive hearing aid.