HEARTBREAKER (21 page)

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Stop being evasive. Did you go to bed with him yet? I heard he’s gorgeous.”

Laurant laughed. “Michelle, you shouldn’t be asking questions like that.”

“I’m your dearest friend, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but—”

“And I’m worried about you. You need sex, Laurant. It’s good for your complexion.”

Laurant began to scribble on the notepad. “What’s wrong with my complexion?”

“Nothing sex wouldn’t help. It will bring color to your cheeks.”

“I’ll use blush.”

Michelle let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Is he really just a friend of your brother’s?”

Laurant bowed her head. She felt horrible about lying to her best friend, but she knew that when this was over and she could finally tell Michelle the truth, she would understand.

“No, he isn’t just a friend.” She turned in the chair to look at Nick. He was standing in the front hallway with the other agent and nodding at something the man was telling him. His expression was somber until he caught her staring at him. Then he smiled.

She turned back to the wall. “The oddest thing happened, Michelle,” she whispered.

“What?”

“I fell in love.”

Michelle was immediately skeptical. “No, you didn’t. You actually allowed yourself to fall in love? I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

“Honest? It happened awfully fast, didn’t it?”

“I know,” she replied. She picked up the pen again and began to draw.

“He must be something else to get through all your defenses. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“You will, and I know you’ll like him.”

“I can’t believe this. He must have knocked you over to get your attention. You fell hard, didn’t you?”

“I guess I did.”

“This is mind-blowing,” Michelle exclaimed.

“It’s not
that
shocking,” she said defensively.

“Puh-lease.”

Laurant laughed. Michelle always put her in a good mood. She was so dramatic and very open in her feelings and attitudes, whereas Laurant kept everything close to her heart. Michelle was the only friend since high school whom she had ever confided in.

“I know what goes on in that warped head of yours. You’re always trying to figure out what’s wrong with the guy, and you’re always playing it safe. Just because you got burned once—”

“Twice,” she corrected.

“I don’t count the college guy,” Michelle said. “Everyone gets her heart broken in college at least once. I’m only counting the creep from Chicago.”

“He was a creep,” Laurant agreed.

“And just because you misjudged him, you concluded all men were scum. Except my Christopher. You never thought he was scum.”

“Of course I didn’t. I love Christopher.”

She sighed. “I do too. He’s so sweet and wonderful.”

“So is Nick.”

“Don’t mess this one up, Laurant. Go with your feelings this time.”

“What do you mean, don’t mess this one up?”

“With your history . . .”

“What history?”

“Don’t go all irate on me. I’m simply telling it like it is. You don’t have a very good record with men around here. Want me to go through the list of men you’ve rejected?”

“I didn’t love any of those men.”

“You never let yourself get to know any of them long enough to find out if there was a future or not.”

“I wasn’t interested.”

“Obviously. Everyone in town was so certain that Steve Brenner would be able to get through that thick shell of yours. I heard he was telling people he wanted to marry you.”

“That’s what I heard. I don’t even like the man, and I certainly never encouraged him. He gives me the creeps.”

“I like him, and so does Christopher. Steve is charming and funny and witty. Everyone likes him but you.”

“Bessie Jean Vanderman and her sister don’t like him.”

“Please. They don’t like anyone.”

Laurant laughed. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. They dislike the Catholics because they’re too pushy, and I just heard that Viola thinks Rabbi Spears is running a crooked bingo game.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Would I make that up?”

“Tell me something. How did you find out so quickly that Nick was with me?”

“The hotline. While Bessie Jean was standing out front, her sister snuck back inside, called my mother, and she told me. We all know how Viola loves to embellish. She said you were getting engaged, but mother and I didn’t believe her. Do you think you will marry Nicholas one day, or is it too soon to ask that question?”

“You just asked me if we slept together,” she reminded her.

“No, I asked you if you had sex.”

“Actually, Viola wasn’t embellishing. I am going to marry him.”

Michelle shrieked again. “Why didn’t you tell me right away. You’re serious? You’re really . . . I can’t believe this. It’s happening too fast for my little brain to take in. Have you set a date yet?”

“No,” she admitted. “But Nick wants to get married real soon.”

“Oh, God, this is so romantic. Wait until I tell Christopher. You’re my maid of honor,” she said then. “So?”

The hint wasn’t subtle. “Will you be my maid of honor?”

Michelle paused to shout the news to her parents. Both of them had to take a turn on the phone congratulating Laurant, and by the time Michelle was back, ten more minutes had passed.

“Yes, I’ll be your maid of honor. I’m honored that you asked me. Oh, that reminds me. I called you to tell you your dress is ready. You can pick it up tomorrow. Try it on one more time, okay? I don’t want any screwups on the day of my wedding.”

“All right. Anything else?”

“The picnic,” she said. “I expect to meet Nick then.”

“What picnic?”

“What do you mean, what picnic? The abbot’s throwing a big thank-you party at the lake for everyone who worked so hard on the renovations.”

“When was this decided?”

“Oh, that’s right. You were out of town. It was in the Sunday bulletin, but you were in Kansas City. Oh, my God, I forgot to ask. The news about Nick turned me into a blithering idiot I suppose. It was so . . . un-you . . . that it was all I could think about. I forgot to ask. Is your brother all right?”

“Yes, he’s fine. He got a clean bill of health this time.”

“Then no chemo?”

“No chemo.”

Michelle sounded relieved. “Thank goodness. Is he back home yet?”

“No, he and a friend are going to drive my car back as soon as the repairs are done. The transmission was slipping.”

“You need to buy a new car.”

“I will, one of these days.”

“When you can afford it, right?”

“Right.”

Laurant suddenly dropped the pen. She hadn’t been paying attention as she scribbled on the pad, but now she saw what she had done. There were hearts all over the paper, broken hearts. She ripped the paper from the pad and began to tear it up.

“Father Tom still doesn’t know all the money’s gone, does he?”

She glanced over her shoulder to see if Nick and the other man were still in the hallway, but they were gone.

Even though she was alone in the room, she still lowered her voice when she answered, “No, Tommy doesn’t know the money’s gone. You and Christopher are the only ones I’ve told.”

“Heaven help you if Tommy finds out. Put yourself in his place. He assigned his interest in the trust to you when he entered the seminary, thinking that your grandfather’s estate would be secure and that you would be set for life. How is he going to feel when he finds out those slimy lawyers were stealing every cent in the trust by charging exorbitant fees,” Michelle railed. The more she talked about the injustice, the angrier her voice became. “Millions of dollars in fees,” she reminded Laurant. “They should rot in jail. What they did to you was criminal.”

“Not to me,” Laurant corrected. “To my grandfather. They betrayed him, and that’s why I went after them.”

It had taken her a year to find an attorney who was willing to take on one of the largest and most powerful law firms in Paris, and even he had resisted at first, until he looked over her papers and saw what they had done. His position radically changed then. He wanted to put them out of business. The suit was filed the following morning.

“Don’t lose hope. You have to keep fighting to get what’s rightfully yours.” She sighed over the phone. “Lawyers are scum buckets.”

“Shame on you. You’re marrying a lawyer, remember?”

“He wasn’t a lawyer when I met him.”

“Michelle, pray this is settled soon. I’ve spent almost every dime I have on legal fees and renovating the store. I had to borrow money from the bank too. God only knows how I’m going to pay it back.”

“The lawyers you’re fighting are hoping you’ll give up and go away. Remember what Christopher said? That’s why they keep filing all those motions or whatever to delay the final court hearing, but if you win again this time, they have to pay up.”

“And within ten days,” Laurant said.

“Well, hang in there. You’re close to the finish line now.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Mother’s yelling at me. I have to hang up. The picnic’s at five. Don’t be late.”

“I don’t understand why the abbot scheduled the party so soon. The renovations aren’t finished yet, and I’ll just bet the scaffolding is still in the church.”

“It’s the only time that would work with his busy schedule,” Michelle explained. “And the abbot promised me the scaffolding would be gone before the wedding. Do you realize, in less than a week I’ll be an old married woman. Oh, hold on, Laurant.”

She heard Michelle shout to her mother that she’d be right down, and then she spoke into the phone again. “Mother’s becoming a nervous wreck with the preparations.”

“I should let you go.”

“You sound tired.”

“I am,” she admitted.

Laurant’s mind was racing even as she talked to Michelle. Agent Wesson was using the abbot’s cabin as his command center, and no one was supposed to know that he and his men were in Holy Oaks.

“Where exactly is the picnic? At the abbot’s cabin?”

“No,” Michelle answered. “He has some relatives or friends staying there. It’s across the lake. Just follow the traffic.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“I won’t be here, remember? I’m going to Des Moines to pick up my new brace, so I’ll see you at the picnic.”

“Who’s driving you?”

“Dad,” she answered. “If this one doesn’t fit, he’s going to raise holy hell. Because of their screwups, I have less than a week to learn how to walk without a limp.”

“If anyone can do it, you can. Want me to do anything for you while you’re away?”

Michelle laughed. “Yes. Go get some color in your cheeks.”

L
aurant heard Nick coming down the stairs, and when she finished saying good-bye to Michelle and hung up the phone, she saw him leaning against the door frame watching her. His hair was tousled on his forehead, and she was once again struck by how sexy he was. Maybe Michelle was right. Maybe she should think about putting some color back in her cheeks.

What would he be like in bed? My God, she couldn’t believe she was letting her mind conjure up such thoughts. She quickly pushed the budding fantasies aside. She wasn’t a teenager in the throes of a hormonal rebellion. She was an adult, and there wasn’t anything wrong with being celibate until the right man came along, was there? Nick didn’t fit her requirements. No, he wasn’t the right man.

“Sorry I was on the phone so long.”

“That’s okay. Joe says you’ve got a bunch of messages stored on your machine. Go ahead and listen to them.”

Nick carried her bag upstairs while Laurant replayed the tape. There was only one disturbing message, from Margaret Stamp, the owner of the local bakery. She was calling to tell Laurant that Steve Brenner had upped his offer to buy Margaret’s store by 20 percent, and that Steve had given her a week to consider. She ended the message with a question. Did Laurant know that Steve wasn’t going to pay out any of the money to those who had sold until all the stores had signed?

A clap of thunder rumbled in the distance. Laurant slumped against the back of the chair, concentrating on the droning whir of the tape as it rewound. Her resolve had taken another beating, yet she knew she would have to summon the energy to deal with this latest crisis. Poor Margaret. Laurant knew she didn’t want to sell, but business at the bakery was poor these days, and the money Steve was offering would be enough to ensure Margaret a comfortable retirement. How could Laurant, in good conscience, talk Margaret into holding firm when there was a good chance she would lose everything?

She jumped when Nick touched her shoulder.

“Laurant, I’d like you to meet Joe Farley. He’s going to be staying with us.”

The agent came forward to shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Laurant’s mind switched gears. The fight to save the town square would have to be put on the back burner for now.

“Please call me Laurant.”

“Sure,” he replied. “And you can call me Joe.”

Joe was a thickset man with a bushy mane of red hair and a round face that lit up when he smiled. One of his front teeth was slightly crooked, and that humanized him somehow. Even though he too was wearing a gun, he didn’t seem as imposing or as rigid as Mr. Wesson.

“Do you usually work with Nick?”

“I have a few times,” he answered. “I’m usually stuck in an office, so this is quite a change for me. I hope you don’t mind, but Feinberg and I have made a couple of changes in your alarm system. It isn’t fancy, but it will get the job done.”

She glanced at Nick. “I don’t have an alarm system.”

“You do now.”

Joe explained. “We’ve wired all the windows and the doors so that when anyone comes inside, we’ll know it. A red light will flash, but the alarm won’t make any noise,” he assured her. “We don’t want to spook the unsub. We want to draw him inside and nail him. Hopefully, he won’t know he’s triggered the setup. Of course, any stranger that comes near your house is going to get marked by the agents outside.”

“The house is being watched?”

“Yes, it is.”

“How long will you be staying here?” she asked.

“Until the first of July . . . if we haven’t caught the unsub before then. I’ll leave when you do.”

Her head was spinning. It was becoming more and more difficult to push one crisis aside while she concentrated on another. She turned around and headed for the kitchen, the men trailing behind her. “I need a cup of tea,” she said wearily.

“Laurant, you’re not waffling about leaving, are you? We did talk about this,” Nick reminded.

“Okay, I know,” she answered weakly.

“I mean it, Laurant. You’re out of here—”

She cut him off. “I said okay.” Her irritation was loud and clear. “Mind telling me where I’m going?”

“With me.”

“Will you stop doing that?” she demanded loudly.

The burst of temper surprised Nick. He raised an eyebrow as he leaned back against the kitchen table and folded his arms. “Stop doing what?”

“Giving me dumb answers,” she muttered. She grabbed the white teakettle from the counter and went to the sink to fill it with water.

It didn’t take a trained eye to see that the pressure was getting to her, but the timing couldn’t have been worse because Nick was also feeling like a cranky, caged animal. Now that they were in Holy Oaks, the waiting game began, and God, how he hated that part of his job. He’d rather have a root canal than wait around for something to happen.

Working with Jules Wesson was already turning out to be a problem. Nick had spent ten minutes on his mobile phone trying to get Wesson to give him information, but every time he asked a question, Wesson hedged. Nick knew what he was doing, pushing him out of the loop.

Joe dragged a chair out from the table and sat down, but Nick followed Laurant to the sink. “What the hell does that mean? Dumb answers?”

She bumped into his chest when she turned. Water sloshed out of the mouth of the kettle, splashing his shirt.

“You never give me a direct answer,” she told him.

“Yeah? Like when?”

“Just now was a good example. I asked you where I was going, and you answered—”

He cut her off. “With me.”

“That isn’t a direct answer, Nick.”

Without a thought as to what she was doing, she grabbed a towel and began to blot the water off his shirt. He snatched it out of her hand and tossed it on the counter.

“I’m not sure where we’ll be going,” he told her. “When I know, I’ll tell you. All right? And by the way,” he added, leaning down until they were nose to nose, “that’s the only damned time I haven’t given you a straight answer.”

“No, it isn’t,” she countered. “I asked you how many agents were here in Holy Oaks, and do you remember what your answer was? Enough. Now, what kind of a straight answer was that?”

The muscle in his jaw flexed, indicating the price he was paying for holding his temper. “If I knew the exact number, I wouldn’t tell you. I don’t want you to see them or look for them.”

“Why not?” She pushed him out of her way and went to the stove, put the kettle on the front burner, and turned it on.

“Because then you’ll be staring at them or looking for them every time we go out, and if the unsub’s watching you—which, by the way, we’re pretty damned sure he’s going to be doing—then he’ll notice you noticing the agents.”

“You two fight like an old married couple.”

Laurant and Nick turned as one to frown at Joe.

“We weren’t fighting,” Nick told him.

“We were simply having a difference of opinion,” she insisted. “That’s all.”

Joe grinned. “Hey, I’m not your kid you’re trying to convince. I don’t care if you fight or not. The fact is both of you probably need to let off a little steam, and you might as well clear the air right now.”

Laurant noticed the stack of dirty dishes piled up in the sink. Joe had obviously made himself at home but hadn’t bothered to clean up. She scowled at him, then got the Palmolive soap from the cabinet and filled the sink with water.

Joe noticed what she was doing. “I’ll wash those. I was going to put them in the dishwasher, but you don’t have one.”

“It’s an old house.”

Nick picked up the towel and started drying the plate she handed him, as Joe leaned back in his chair and got comfortable.

“Nick, about leaving on the first . . . ,” Joe began.

“Yeah?”

“Wesson wants her to stay.”

“Tough. She’s leaving on the first.”

“He’s gonna pull rank.”

“He can try.”

“How come you’re so firm on that date?”

“Because Tommy estimates a couple of thousand people are going to be flooding in here on the second and third. There’s a big university reunion going on while the town celebrates the anniversary. I’d like to get her out of here before, but she’s got to be in this wedding, and she won’t leave.”

“I’m telling you, Wesson’s determined to keep her here for as long as it takes.”

“And I’m telling you she’s leaving. There’s no way in hell I’m letting Laurant stay with a crowd that size coming here. How can I protect her?” Shaking his head, he added, “It isn’t gonna happen.”

Joe raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m easy with whatever you decide. I just thought I should warn you you’re in for a fight, that’s all. As far as I’m concerned, you’re calling the shots.”

Laurant handed Nick another dish to dry and asked, “What about Tommy? Will he also be leaving on the first?”

“You know how stubborn your brother can be. He thinks it’s important that he help the abbot.”

“But you’ll make him leave, won’t you?” she pleaded. “He won’t listen to me, but he
will
listen to you.”

“Yeah? Since when?”

“You’ve got to make him leave when we do. If he doesn’t go, then I don’t go. Tell him that. Then maybe he’ll stop arguing.”

“Calm down,” he said when he saw the stricken look in her eyes. “Noah promised me he’d get him out of here one way or another. He may have to coldcock him and drag him out,” he added. “But hitting a priest isn’t gonna faze him. Noah gave me his word, so you can relax. Trust him.”

“Is anyone hungry?” Joe asked hopefully. As if on cue, his stomach growled.

“I guess you are,” Nick remarked.

“I’m starving. Feinberg was supposed to figure out a way to bring in some groceries, sneaking in through the back lot behind your house, but man oh man, those two old ladies next door are always looking out their windows. He hasn’t been able to get past them. They should be working for the FBI.”

“They don’t know you’re still here, or they would have said something to me or Nick.”

“I haven’t left the house since I came in,” Joe explained. “Those old ladies went out that afternoon, and I’m assuming they think I left while they were gone. I’ve been real careful about the lights at night,” he added.

“Couldn’t Feinberg bring the groceries from the other side of the house?” she asked.

“He couldn’t get to a door that way, and it was too much of a risk to try to hand them through the window.”

Laurant let the water out of the sink, dried her hands, and then began to look through the refrigerator for something for Joe to eat.

“You find anything in there? I sure couldn’t. I just ate the last of your cold cuts, and all that’s left is cereal,” Joe said.

“So the cupboards are pretty bare, huh?” Nick asked.

Laurant closed the refrigerator. “I’ll go to the grocery store tomorrow,” she promised.

“I was hoping you’d offer. I’ve got a list made up . . . if you don’t mind.”

“If you’re really starving, we could go out and get you something,” Nick offered.

Laurant shook her head. “Everything’s closed this time of night.”

“It’s not even ten o’clock. Nothing’s open?” Nick asked.

“Sorry. All the stores close at six.”

“I honest to God don’t know how she handles living here,” he told Joe. He straddled the chair across the table from the agent and added, “There’s not even a bagel shop within fifty miles. I’m right, aren’t I, Laurant?”

She’d just finished searching through her pantry and closed the door, empty-handed. “Yes, you’re right, but I get along just fine without fresh bagels.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a Krispy Kreme donut shop in town,” Joe lamented.

“No, there isn’t,” she said.

Laurant opened the freezer on the bottom of the refrigerator and began to search through the frozen vegetables.

“Did you find something in there?” Joe asked eagerly.

“Some frozen broccoli.”

“I’ll pass.”

The kettle started whistling, and Nick reached for a cup and saucer. “You want any of this, Joe?”

“I’d rather have iced tea.”

“We aren’t here to serve you, buddy. If you want it, fix it.”

Nick made Laurant sit down and served her a cup of the tea.

“Neither one of you should criticize the town until you’ve been here at least a week. You have to get into the swing of things first. The pace is different,” she said.

“No kidding,” Nick drawled.

She ignored the sarcasm. “Once you learn how to slow down, you’ll like it.”

“I doubt that.”

She was getting angry. “You should keep an open mind. Besides, if I want a bagel, I buy a package at the store and defrost them.”

“But those aren’t fresh,” he complained. “Everyone eats bagels, Laurant. They’re a national staple. What do all those college kids do? Bagels are healthy, damn it. Kids know that.”

“Oh, stop whining. You’re acting like one of those Americans who would come all the way to Paris and insist on eating at McDonald’s.”