A Creed in Stone Creek (15 page)

They really were beautiful, dewy and vibrantly colored.

“What you do in your personal life is none of my business,” she said, looking at the irises instead of Andrea. They’d both learned a lesson; now, it was time to move on.

“But—?” Andrea prompted, without inflection. Clearly, she wasn’t ready to let the subject drop. Melissa, on the other hand, would have preferred to pretend that it hadn’t happened.

“You’ve come a long way since your foster-home days, Andrea,” Melissa replied, after drawing in and expelling a deep breath. “I hope you won’t throw all that away by doing anything foolish.”

Andrea blushed miserably. “Like going out with Byron Cahill?”

“I didn’t say that,” Melissa pointed out.

“You didn’t have to,” Andrea said. Still, there was no anger in her tone or her expression.

Melissa rested a hand on the young woman’s forearm. “Okay, for what it’s worth, here’s my opinion. Byron has to be going through some major adjustments right now. He has a lot to deal with, and so do you. Maybe it would be better to let the dust settle a little before you get too—involved.”

Andrea tensed slightly. “Because he was in prison.”

“Partly, yes,” Melissa answered. “And partly because both of you are young.”

“Right,” Andrea said, her tone turning crisp as she turned on one heel to leave Melissa’s office. “I’ll get your messages.”

Bemused, and still aching all over from the tumble she’d taken into the gravel that morning, Melissa put her purse away, sat down in her chair and booted up her computer.

A tap at the framework of her open door alerted her to Tom’s presence. Melissa smiled, and even
that
hurt a little.

Tom glanced in Andrea’s direction and then came inside Melissa’s office and closed the door.

“We’ve got trouble,” he said. His tone was solemn.

Melissa looked up at him, her smile a thing of the past. “Sit down, Tom,” she said.

But he shook his head. “I’ve had a complaint from Ashley and Jack’s neighbors,” he told her. “About the guests. Since it’s sort of a—delicate matter, I wanted to run the report by you before I go over there.”

Melissa closed her eyes for a moment. Dammit, that bunch of geriatric outlaws were running around naked again, and this time, someone had seen them.

She did
not
need this.

The B&B should have been Ashley’s problem, not hers.

Tom cleared his throat, and his expression was diplomatic. His eyes twinkled, though, and he wasn’t in any rush to state his business, it seemed to Melissa. “They’re disturbing the peace,” he said.

Melissa rolled her eyes.
“Disturbing the peace?”

“Apparently, they’re playing the stereo at top volume.
Practicing the tango on the back patio.” Tom drew in a breath, his eyes still dancing with amusement. “The Crockett sisters are worried that the noise will scare their fish.”

“Their
fish?
”

“You know. Those fancy goldfish they have.”

“And this is
my
problem because—?”

“Well,” Tom said, “because Ashley and Jack left you in charge of the B&B, for all intents and purposes. I thought you’d want to know what was going on.”

“Good heavens,” Melissa said.

Tom chuckled. “I’m fixing to go on over there and have a word with those good folks, of course,” he went on. “I’m sure they don’t mean any harm. You can come along or stay here—your choice.”

Melissa groaned as the weight of twin responsibility settled on her shoulders. “I’d better go with you.”

Tom nodded. “That would probably be a good idea,” he allowed, his mouth twitching at one corner, “but maybe I should go in first, just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Melissa asked, feeling testy. The over-the-counter pain pills she’d taken with her morning smoothie, before leaving home, were taking the edge off, but that was about it. “Last I heard, the tango wasn’t dangerous. Not for spectators, at least.”

Tom gave her a wry look as he opened the office door and waited for her to step through before following.

Andrea was just rising from her chair, the usual handful of pink phone messages clutched in one hand. She looked pale, and there were faint shadows under her eyes.

“Anything important?” Melissa asked, with a glance at the messages.

“I’m not sure,” Andrea admitted. “There was a call from a woman complaining that one of her neighbors is buying too much toilet paper—way more than anybody needs, especially when they live alone.”

Melissa frowned, puzzled.

But Tom gave a chuckle and a low whistle that brought the faithful Elvis click-click-clicking down the hallway from his master’s office on canine toenails and said, “Sounds like the same old controversy Aunt Ona has to deal with every year when rodeo time rolls around.”

“Mr. Creed called, too,” Andrea added, while Melissa was still pondering Tom’s cryptic remark. “I guess he didn’t have your home number. Anyway, he said he and Matt really enjoyed supper last night and they’d like to reciprocate as soon as possible.”

Melissa blushed slightly. “Okay,” she said, avoiding Andrea’s gaze. She could actually
feel
Tom’s grin, though she didn’t look at him, either.

“We’ll be back in a while,” Tom explained to Andrea.

Out of the corner of her eye, Melissa saw Andrea nod before turning and going back to her own desk.

Moments later, Tom, Melissa and Elvis were in the squad car.

Melissa flipped through the messages to make sure there was nothing urgent, then shoved them into her purse. All except for the toilet paper concern, of course.

The caller, not surprisingly, had been Bea Brady, one of the more vocal members of the Parade Committee. She’d spoken up during the meeting out at Creekside Academy, Melissa remembered.

“Some people,” she said, with a long sigh, “have
way
too much free time.”

Tom’s mouth quirked at one corner. Elvis, meanwhile, sat in the middle of the backseat, behind the metal grill. “I suppose you realize,” he said dryly, “that there are a few people around Stone Creek who’d say that about us. The big joke down at the barbershop is that I don’t even need to load my service revolver—I can just carry a single bullet around in my shirt pocket, like Barney Fife.”

A giggle escaped Melissa, in spite of everything, but when she spoke, she was utterly serious. “Sometimes I think I’m in the wrong line of work,” she admitted, surprising herself as well as Tom.

Tom, already signaling to turn onto Ashley’s street, cast a quizzical glance in her direction. “Really?” he asked. “You worked pretty hard to earn that law degree and pass the bar exam and then build a resume. What would you do if you weren’t a lawyer?”

As the alley between the Crocketts’ and the B&B came into focus, toward the end of the block, cell memory must have kicked in, because Melissa felt the impact of her fall all over again, as if it had just happened.

“Interesting question,” she murmured in response. Before the breakup, she and Dan had agreed on a general plan: she would take a few years off from her career when she felt ready, help raise his two boys, have at least one baby, try out some of the domestic arts, like cooking and decorating, à la Ashley. “And I don’t think I know the answer.”

And that was probably the whole problem, she reflected. She not only didn’t know what she would do
if she didn’t practice law, she didn’t know who she would
be.

She’d been so sure that she loved Dan, wanted to make a life with him, but when it came time to set a date and to actually
get married,
Melissa had panicked. Dan, who’d been patient for a long time, had been coldly furious, and then he’d delivered an ultimatum; she had forty-eight hours to make a decision, one way or the other: marry him, or call it quits.

Melissa hadn’t needed forty-eight hours, or even forty-eight
seconds.

She’d called it quits.

Of course, she’d expected Dan to come around in a day or two—a week at the longest—with flowers and sweet talk, the way he had every other time they’d ever disagreed about anything, large or small, but that time was different. There was no soft music, no steamy makeup sex, no anything. Within a week, in fact, Dan was dating a waitress, the woman he’d since married.

“Well,” Tom said, drawing the cruiser to a stop in front of the B&B. “We’re here.”

“Yes,” Melissa said, squinting her eyes and peering at the front of her sister and brother-in-law’s gracious house. “Let’s get this over with.”

Tom chuckled, unfastened his seat belt and got out of the car. Reaching the sidewalk, he opened Melissa’s door for her, then released Elvis from the back.

Even from where they stood, the sounds of merriment coming from behind the house were clearly audible. There was spritely guitar music, laughter, cheering and loud, enthusiastic applause.

“Damn,” Melissa muttered, shaking her head, as Tom
opened the front gate and waited for her to walk through ahead of him.

“You can wait here if you want to,” Tom offered, as Elvis trotted happily ahead, nose to the ground.

“It isn’t as if I’ve never seen a naked man before, you know,” she said.

Tom laughed. “Huh?”

Unwittingly, she’d just revealed her secret fear: that the B&B guests were naked again. “You know what I meant,” Melissa replied, with a little snap to her tone.

Tom remained amused. “By the way,” he went on, “what’s the matter with you? You flinched every time I took a corner on the way over here, and I’d swear you’re limping a little.”

He’d taken the lead, following the walk that ran alongside the house and into the backyard with its high fences and sheltering trees, but he looked over his shoulder at her as he spoke.

Melissa raised and lowered her shoulders. Carefully. “I took a little spill when I was running this morning,” she said. “It’s no big deal.”

Elvis, having reached the backyard, began to bark. The sound was the purest joy, and Melissa had to smile.

Tom stopped in his tracks as soon as he’d rounded the far corner of the house, and Melissa, bringing up the rear, almost collided with him.

“I’ll be damned,” he murmured.

She peeked around him.

And there was the Wild Bunch, the men dressed like matadors, except for their hats, the women in flamenco outfits and holding roses in their teeth, tangoing like mad across the wide stone patio.

The music, pouring from a boom box, was deafening.

Elvis stood near the edge of the patio, a delighted witness to the festivities, barking his brains out as he followed the action.

Spotting Melissa and Tom, John Winthrop hurried over to crank down the volume on the boom box. He was wearing one of those round hats trimmed with tiny pom-poms.

The other man in the group finished up the dance by dipping his partner.

Melissa, more impressed than she would have admitted to Tom Parker or anyone else, could only assume that osteoporosis wasn’t an issue in this particular crowd.

Tom cleared his throat, then summoned Elvis to his side.

Melissa stepped up next to him, concentrating on one thing. Not laughing.

“Why, it’s Melissa,” said Mr. Winthrop, beaming, taking off his hat and bowing deeply. “How nice to see you again!”

“That’s quite a costume,” Melissa said.

“Rented,” Mr. Winthrop replied. He drew in a deep, robust breath and let it out in a whoosh. “We got to talking about our trip to Spain—we went three years ago—and I guess we got a little carried away by all the memories.”

“There’s no costume-rental place in Stone Creek,” Tom said, sounding suspicious.

“We called a shop in Flagstaff,” Winthrop explained jovially. “They were kind enough to deliver.”

“Oh,” Tom replied, clearly at a loss.

“The neighbors are complaining about the music,” Melissa told the gang. “It was too loud.”

The women looked annoyed. The men were crestfallen. Melissa felt like the original wet blanket.

“Well, I guess there’s no harm done,” Tom allowed. “If you’ll all just keep the noise down a little, everybody will be happy.”

“Not everybody,” said the woman in the in the red dress, trailing ruffles behind her and fiddling with the Spanish comb in her hair.

“We’ll behave,” Mr. Winthrop promised.

The woman in the red dress harrumphed, arms folded.

“Fair enough,” Tom said agreeably.

By then, Melissa was wondering why she’d come along on this mission, since Tom didn’t seem to need her help. If asked, she would have said it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

She smiled apologetically at the croquet/tango team. Winced when Tom took a light grip on her arm.

“That does it,” he said to Melissa, as they walked away, Elvis ambling along behind them. “I’m taking you over to the clinic in Indian Rock.”

Melissa sighed. “I’m just fine,” she protested. “In fact, I was thinking I might like to try the tango—”

Tom flashed her a grin as he opened the door of the squad car for her and helped her to ease inside. “No way,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Because,” Tom said, with a wicked light in his eyes, “it takes two to tango, and I’ll have no part of it, thank you very much.”

Melissa groaned. “That was
such
a bad joke,” she said.

But then she laughed.

Tom turned serious. “I still think you should see a doctor. I could run you over to the clinic in Indian Rock in no time—”

“I’m
fine,
Tom,” she insisted. “And I’m not going anywhere but back to the office.”

Tom didn’t answer until he’d gotten behind the wheel again. “Not much going on there,” he observed. “Andrea can probably hold down the fort. Why not stay home for the rest of the day, if you won’t go to the doctor, and take it easy?” He indicated her purse with a nod of his head and another grin. “You could take care of all those phone messages. Reassure Bea Brady that you won’t allow the toilet-paper contingent to get out of hand when it comes time to decorate the floats for the big parade. Tell Steven Creed you’re hot for him and he’s welcome to come by for supper anytime.”

Melissa punched her old friend in the arm.
“I’m going back to work,”
she told her friend. “If I have to feel lousy, I might as well do it at the office as at home and, besides, my car is there.”