Carol Higgins Clark Boxed Set - Volume 1: This eBook collection contains Zapped, Cursed, and Wrecked. (39 page)

I don’t believe this, Regan thought. This can’t be happening. All our weekend plans. “Of course I don’t mind,” she finally croaked, stealing a glance at Jack, who raised his eyebrows in despair. He looked as if he were about to go through the floor.

“You’re so kind, Regan. Thank you. There’s nothing like neighbors you can call on in a time of need.” She sniffed the air.
“That coffee smells great to me. Did you make that yourself, Regan?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I wouldn’t mind a cup. But I only take it with skim milk. Doctor’s orders.”

“We’ve got plenty of skim milk,” Jack said, holding up the grocery bag as they headed to the kitchen.

“Wonderful. Ginny and I want to hear all about your married bliss. But first I’d like to use your phone. I was trying to reach the window company from our house but had no luck. Something tells me it’s going to take a good bit of time before we’re back to normal.”

Jack turned to Regan and mouthed one word:
Bermuda
.

It was the only other place they had considered going for their anniversary.

In Regan’s childhood home in Summit, New Jersey, her parents, Nora and Luke, were just finishing breakfast. Luke, the owner of three funeral homes, was about to head to work. Nora, a well-known suspense writer, would then go up to her third floor office to work on her latest novel.

“I can’t believe it was this very weekend last year that Regan and Jack got married,” Nora said wistfully as she folded the newspaper. “I wish we could do that day all over again.”

“Just as long as they don’t send us the bill,” Luke muttered as he pushed his chair back from the kitchen table.

“No father was prouder than you walking his daughter down the aisle.”

“True,” Luke responded. “But if I want to relive that day, I’ll go to the videotape.” He stood, his six-foot-five-inch lanky frame encased in a dark suit, white shirt, and subdued tie. With his silver hair and handsome face, he looked quite distinguished.

Nora glanced out the window at the driving rain. “We were blessed with a beautiful sunny day last year. Anyone getting married this weekend better not have their heart set on outdoor photos.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of grooms out there right now
wringing their hands at the thought of no pictures in the garden.”

“You’re impossible.” Nora laughed as she started to clear the plates from the table. Standing next to Luke, she seemed absolutely petite. Five foot three inches tall, she had blond hair and fair skin that gave her a patrician look. Regan had inherited her height and coloring from Luke’s side of the family. “I suppose Regan and Jack made it safely to the Cape.”

“I’m sure we would have heard if they ran into any problems.” Luke leaned down to give his wife a kiss. “Don’t call them.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Nora protested. “I just hope this storm doesn’t cause problems with FedEx.”

Luke looked puzzled. “Why your sudden interest in the well-being of FedEx?”

“I forgot to give Regan the top layer of her wedding cake when she and Jack were here the other night.”

“Her wedding cake? Isn’t it stale by now?”

“Hopefully not. It’s been in the freezer in the basement for the last year. There’s an old tradition that says if a couple eats a slice of their wedding cake on their first anniversary, it will bring them good luck and is an omen for a long life.”

“I don’t recall us having wedding cake on our first anniversary.”

“There wasn’t any left. Your relatives polished off every last crumb at our reception.”

“What?”

“A table of your cousins asked for seconds. Their waiter was young and inexperienced. He took it upon himself to cut up the extra cake that had been set aside for us to bring home.”

“I like the sound of that guy,” Luke said decisively, “someone who aims to please.” He paused, his face baffled. “I just can’t believe you never told me.”

Nora batted her eyes. “I wasn’t going to let anything ruin that day for us . . .”

Luke grinned. “Funny how times change. I’m certainly glad you’ve gotten over holding back about my relatives.”

“I guess I have,” Nora agreed. “And we’ve made it this far even though we didn’t have wedding cake on our first anniversary. But I wasn’t taking any chances for Regan and Jack. Yesterday, I FedExed the cake to Cape Cod.”

Luke reached for his coat. “Let’s hope the driver doesn’t have a sweet tooth.”

It wasn’t long before Regan was able to figure out the names of their unexpected guests, the Brewer sisters. The older one was Fran, the younger Ginny. They both appeared to be in their sixties.

Fran was tall and thin, with big round glasses and wavy shoulder-length graying hair. Ginny, who did more talking than listening, was rounder, with frosted hair and wide brown eyes. She wore more makeup than Fran, but their outfits were similar—khaki pants, long-sleeved crewneck sweaters and all-weather shoes.

The minute they set foot in the kitchen, Fran had grabbed the cordless phone off the counter and started dialing. The window company’s line was still busy. It took numerous tries before someone answered and promptly put Fran on hold.

“Wait!” she cried fruitlessly. “Darn it! It could take forever to talk to someone. I don’t know how long that plastic is going to protect our living room if this wind and pelting rain keeps up. I need to get the window guys over here on the double.” She leaned against the butcher-block counter and sighed.

“And what about getting rid of those branches that are all over the yard?” Ginny blurted as she slathered butter on the blueberry
muffin that Jack had bought for Regan. She looked happy as a clam in her seat at the kitchen table. As Regan hungrily eyed her muffin, she tried to push away the thought that at this moment she and Jack could be enjoying room service in Bermuda.

“It’s one big shame about our tree,” Fran pronounced. “It’ll be a heartbreaker if we have to cut it down. But first things first. We have to somehow take care of the window, then worry about everything else.”

Ginny took a bite of the muffin. “Delicious,” she pronounced, patting her mouth with a napkin. “Jack, your mother keeps a lovely home here. Just lovely. It’s all so comfortable and inviting and”—she paused and rolled her eyes—“unlike the present state of our home, warm and toasty.”

“Thank you,” Jack answered.

Regan could tell he was doing his best to be cordial. I think he’s as shocked as I am that our weekend plans went down the drain so fast. I wonder if we could make an excuse and go back to New York. Ginny had already mentioned that Jack’s mother had let them stay here for a few days when their boiler blew last winter. Or maybe we could go to Boston for the weekend. Heck, maybe we could find a no-tell motel somewhere between here and the Sagamore Bridge. Anywhere but here.

“Fran and I just love the Cape,” Ginny continued. “We can’t believe we ended up here. Were we in shock three years ago when we found out our uncle had willed us his house!”

“My family never really knew him. He didn’t spend much time here, did he?” Jack asked.

“No. He rented the house forever. That man was a character. Always on the run. He bought the house about ten years ago to use as a vacation home. Wouldn’t you know, a month later he met his third wife whose lifelong dream was to live in Hawaii? He didn’t want to sell the house so he began renting it out. The
newlyweds moved to Maui, where he bought another beautiful home. He’d made this woman’s dream come true, which made her happy for about five minutes. She turned out to be a nightmare. Within a year her next big desire was to get divorced. Once again Uncle Ned was thrilled to give her what she wanted. He even let her keep the house, which he’d paid for in cash. The day he signed the divorce papers, he got on a plane, wanting to put at least an ocean’s distance between them. By then he’d grown quite fond of receiving fat checks from his tenants at the Cape house, so he didn’t move here. He lived in Phoenix for a while, then Palm Beach. He had recently proposed to a woman who would become his fourth wife when he died in his sleep.”

“Uncle Ned was an eternal optimist,” Fran observed.

“And always so cheerful,” Ginny added. “At the time he died, Fran and I were both getting ready to retire. We had a town house in Pennsylvania and didn’t know where we wanted to spend our golden years. At first we thought the Cape might be too lonely in the wintertime. But we’re doing our best to get to know people . . .”

No doubt, Regan thought.

Ginny pointed in the direction of the last house on the block. “Did you know that besides Mrs. Hopkins, the woman renting the Carpenters’ place, we are the only people on this long lonely street in the dead of winter? Sad to say, our new neighbor is very unfriendly and doesn’t seem to be interested in our company at all. I don’t understand it. The day she moved in last November we brought over a homemade pie. Do you know she didn’t even have the courtesy to invite us in? And she obviously doesn’t believe in thank-you notes. Right, Fran?”

“I never saw one,” Fran answered, impatiently tapping her fingers on the counter.

“It’s not as if we hold it against her,” Ginny said in a saintly
tone. “We still always wave when she drives by, but she barely acknowledges us.”

“Some people come up to the Cape to be alone,” Jack replied. “I’ve never met her.” He turned to Regan. “You said Skip is outside checking the drainpipes? Maybe I’ll go out and help him.”

He’d rather be outside in the driving rain than sit here with these two, Regan thought. “That’s what Skip said he was going to do,” she answered. “Who knows?”

Fran and Ginny glanced at each other. There was no doubt in Regan’s mind that their exchange was an expression of disapproval about Skip.

“What?” Regan asked lightly, the carton of expired milk and Skip’s appearance outside her window still fresh in her mind. “Do you two have something to tell us?”

“We should just mind our own business,” Fran said unconvincingly.

“If there’s something we should know . . .” Regan prodded.

Not surprisingly, Ginny pounced on the opportunity to gossip. “There
is
something you should know!” she declared, her eyes darting back and forth between Regan and Jack. “I always said that knowledge gives you power. And power gives you control. And control gives you—”

“Ginny!” Regan said with a laugh. “What should we know?”

Ginny cleared her throat. “Fran and I decided to take a walk on the beach a few weeks ago. It was the first day where you just felt spring was in the air. The only problem is that our stairs to the beach washed away in last year’s big storm. Jack, your mother is the doll of dolls. She said we could use your staircase anytime. It’s too much of an expense for us to fix ours on top of having to bring in more boulders to protect our land from all the erosion. Who thought a bunch of rocks could be so expensive? Anyway, Fran and I came down the road, walked by the side of
the house here, looked into the den, and there he was, Mr. Caretaker himself, sleeping on the couch with the television on. Is that his job?” she asked with a giggle. “To watch television?”

“I don’t believe it’s in the job description,” Jack answered. “Maybe he was just taking a break.”

“There’s more!” Ginny exclaimed, obviously dissatisfied that Jack was letting Skip off the hook so easily. “After that we were on high alert. The next time we saw his car come down the road and park in your driveway, we decided to take another walk on the beach.”

“Even though it was ten o’clock at night,” Fran added, shifting the phone from one ear to the other. A maddening recording replayed endlessly, apologizing for the wait, then extolling the virtures of the window company.

“It was ten o’clock,” Ginny agreed. “We were about to watch the local news but instead we got our coats on and walked down the road in the pitch dark. What we saw when we looked through these windows was mind-boggling. Skip was sitting right here in your den, drinking beer and watching a basketball game.”

I bet the beer hadn’t expired, Regan thought.

“Jack, I hope he doesn’t charge your parents by the hour.”

“I’ll mention it to them,” Jack said quickly.

“You should. After all, it doesn’t seem right to take advantage of people like that.” Ginny held up her mug. “Regan, is there any more coffee in the pot?”