In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) (22 page)

Her Jeckle-Hyde made me laugh. “
Don’t stress, Mama Bride, it’s all cool. You are forgiven for this because you made my day by remembering to pack the coconut oil,” I continued over Anna’s musical chipmunk laughter, “but…”

“There’s a but! What do you mean, but?” Anna demanded, and I figured she must be at the Fare already
, since I heard pans rattling and Trent’s voice talking to someone in the background.

“But I don’t forgive you for getting me caught skipping school in our junior year
,” I kept my voice stern over Anna’s protesting groans, “and I’m going to change the code on the apartment lock again and not tell you the new one. Then you can’t sneak up there and go rifling through my undies drawer every time some random man tells you to!”

Anna
retorted defensively, “Hey, I warned you that I was nervous about calling you in sick on the attendance line. But did you listen? Oh no, you just said I only had to act mature and everything would be fine!”

“How was I supposed to know that being nervous meant you
’d sound like you were possessed by the cast of “Gone with the Wind”? First you did Miss Mellie.” I mimicked a southern belle, “I’m so very sorry, but Miss Anabel won’t be able to attend classes today. She is feeling poorly and must stay home on bed rest and drink a mint julep.” Anna was laughing and begging me to stop, but I wouldn’t. “Topping that performance off by breaking down laughing like a bat-shit crazy Aunt Pittypat was not my idea of acting mature, Anna.”

My old friend
gasped out, “Junior, for the hundredth time, I was not speaking in a southern accent, but trying to sound like an adult!”

“Uh
huh,” I said drily, pacing in front of the bed. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see if you go all Prissy on us when that baby of yours is born and start saying ‘I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ babies, Miss Anabel’!”

Anna’s wheezing and I tried to stay serious, but couldn’t.
To this day, the look of frantic hysteria on Anna’s face when she screwed up calling me in sick is still one of my most treasured memories. Her expression of confused, guilty terror was well worth getting grounded for the weekend by NanaBel and enduring a blistering lecture on the evils of truancy from Chief Jack.

Anna got control and fired back at me, “Talk about mature, what’s with my cookie sheets being under your jeep in your open garage this morning?”

“Holy crap, I’m sorry! I forgot all about them last night!”

“Uh
huh,” Anna repeated, enjoying her turn to sound disbelieving. “What about the late night splinters-in-the-ass call?”

Laughing, I went back into the bathroom, shut the door, and sat on the closed toilet seat
.

“Are you too busy or do you have five minutes to listen to the strange stuff that happened last night?”

Ever since I noticed a few weeks ago how happy it makes Anna when I dish on some of the personal details of my life, I’ve been trying to share more. It’s still an alien concept, but it was getting easier.

Anna squealed, “Oh my God, it’s the down and dirty details finally! Of course I have time!”

“Uh…no, not that strange stuff,” I answered, always taken aback at how eager everyone was to share the intimacies of their sex lives and find out mine. Whatever anybody chooses to do sexually in the throes of passion was wonderful at the time, but I find it loses something in the translation when talking about the down and dirty details in the light of day.

“Oh well, tell me what happened
anyway,” said Anna, clearly disappointed.

So I told
her the abduction story details starting with my arrival into Bel’s parking lot last night through Luke’s rescue.

Anna’s a good listener and she made
strangled noises during my recital, but didn’t interrupt. At least, not until I ended with a bonus description of the delicious iced ginger cookies baked by the frisky granny.

She urgently exclaimed, “You have to get me that recipe! Or get me
frisky Granny’s number and I’ll call her. Great ginger cookie recipes are hard to find.” Then she yelled, “I can’t believe this happened to you! Dammit, I thought everything was settling down and getting back to normal around here. Thank God, Luke was there to save you!” She wailed, “You could be frozen dead right now and not be able to be my best girl in my wedding!”

I rolled my eyes, but aware I
was talking to Hormone Central, answered patiently, “Don’t worry, Anna darling, I swear there’s nothing or nobody that will stop me from being the shield-maid of honor in your wedding. Aren’t you forgetting the ex-cousin lurking in the wings to save the day?” This got a snicker and I said, “I know, how bizarre, right?”

“Very bizarre,” Anna replied on a sniff. “I’ll probably be struck down for even thinking this, but it kind of makes me feel better to know
the nutjob’s following you,” her voice rose again, “since somebody really is trying to kill you!”

I agreed cheerfully, “Maybe she’ll take a bullet in the boob meant for me.”

“If only,” Anna answered, and we shared a wistful moment.

Anna and Luke
were the only people that knew the whole story about my ex-cousin and me. For their own protection--even they don’t know the full extent of the plan I have in place should the nutjob hurt me, or someone I care about.

Anna asked if she could tell Reggie about my abduction and then demanded I explain again why I don’t hate Dickie and what I hired him to do.
Appreciating the change of subject, I don’t feel the need to stress Anna by letting her know that I’m going to have to put a stop to the ex-cousin following me around. I can’t have that psycho bitch tailing me all around town when I have so much investigating to do.

We talked babies and business a few more minutes. I was relentless until Anna reluctantly promised she’d call me if there were any problems at Bel’s. Then she was relentless until I swore that I’d be super-vigilant and carry my gun with me at every moment, including
into the bathroom.

“If you and Luke can tea
r yourselves out of bed today,” Anna teased, “Reggie and I are going out for dinner after work tonight. Your future niece is craving Mexican and wants to go to that place I was telling you about, Los Tortillas, in Rosemount.” She added with a laugh, “It’s owned by an Irish dude and their food is excellent.”

“Ah, tell th
e tadpole thanks for the invite but I’ve got plans with Jaz and Tre tonight.”

“What
? Jaz and Tre!” Anna exclaimed, and then her voice got suspicious. “Why aren’t you spending the evening with Luke?”

I laughed. “Geez Anna, do you think because Luke
pops up out of the blue, convinces you to pack up my entire closet, and then whisks me off to his farm for a couple of days, after saving my life, that means I’m going to drop all my plans and be at his beck and call?”

“You
, Junior, are an unnatural woman.” There was silence on the other end of the phone for a beat and then Anna said, “Remember when I said Luke was the one man to keep you on your toes?”

“Yeah,” I answered guardedly.

I heard the smile in Anna’s voice when she continued, “You are just the woman to keep him on his toes, too.”

I ended the call the same way it started, shaking my head and smiling, and then listened to Jamie Wade’s voicemail
from last night. I was correct that she wanted to know how the potential employees she sent my way worked out, but she also wanted to tell me that an Englishman ‘Nellier than pink ink’ had been in the bar asking too many questions about me.

I was really glad I hadn’t cancelled the local network looking out for my interests, but
I’m severely disgusted with myself.

‘
What kind of spymaster doesn’t listen to a report from their head spy?’

‘Umm…the lousy kind?’
offered the detective voice helpfully.

I bared my teeth
at the peanut gallery, but decided then and there that I could no longer allow my anti-social proclivities deter me from listening to voicemails or reading texts immediately. Last night may have been entirely avoided if I’d been more diligent.

Jamie and I had met for happy hour last week. In the course of the evening, we fine-tuned the reporting system we’d started
. Jamie’s the main hub. She’ll take my requests and also process any incoming information flowing from the local barkeeps and shop owners, passing on what I need to know.

For some reason,
Jamie was under the impression our Northfield Network was about finding me quality candidates from the local talent pool for employment and volunteer opportunities.

I agree, w
ho was I to burst her bubble?

I
did casually ask her to keep an ear to the ground for any persons asking about me or Luke—just to err on the side of caution. After all, the Ron Hansen killer-cult could still be operating. My fake godmother had given me a huge hug and said my mother would be so proud that I was being sensible.

L
eaving Jamie a voicemail thanking her jungle drums for the heads up on the Brit and my new employees, this reminded me to text Anna a Fare catering order. I wanted Christmas goodie baskets to be delivered to the short list of people that had already contributed reports to the NN.

As if to test my newfound sense of social media awareness, my phone buzzed while I was putting it in my purse.

“Yes, baby brother, emphasis on the baby?”

“Is that the thanks I get for worrying about my little, emphasis on the short, sister?” Reg replied, chuckling.

“Okay, how’s this. Thanks for not bugging me about last night, for not telling anybody else in the family, and for understanding that I have it under control. I’ll hang up now while you continue to give me hell, so Anna can be impressed you are doing whatever it is she wants you to do.”

“Swear to God you do?” Reggie
whispered in an urgent undertone.

I
smiled softly and replied firmly, “I swear.”

“Dammit, Junior, that does it! We are going to do something about your back parking lot…”

Laughing, I ended the call on Reg’s rant, but will hold him to his word because that’s a good idea to do something about that back lot.

Leaving Luke’s
bedroom, I stopped before the only picture hanging on any of the walls. A sepia-toned photograph, it’s blown up and simply framed in black metal. The subject matter was hauntingly beautiful in its desolation and I was arrested, unable to walk out of the room until I’d looked my fill.

The photograph
was shot from the bottom of a long winding driveway. Dominating the foreground was an enormous old farm house, the surrounding property of yards and outbuildings fading into the background. The square house stood solid and sturdy, and a century ago, must have been a beauty in the way something plain and without pretense can be. However, in this photograph the entire farm was abandoned and overgrown, the golden cornfields encroaching on all sides. Rundown but still proud, the house seemed to float majestically amidst an island of tall grass. This forlorn farmstead was an icon from another era when farming families consisting of many children were the rule rather than the exception, and it pulled at my heartstrings.

I peer
ed closer to read the artist’s spidery name written across the bottom of the photograph, but the ink was faded and too illegible to decipher.

Through the open
bedroom door, I smelled the aroma of coffee first before Luke spoke behind me. “The photographer was Beth Drake, Uncle Ben’s twin sister. She died before I was born. That’s the original farmhouse built on this property back in the 1860’s.” He handed me a mug. “Here’s your coffee, lazy girl.”

“I am lazy!”
I smiled in profound thanks, accepting the steaming coffee and taking the first soul-satisfying sip of the morning. “Wow, Beth was some kind of talented. This photo is so…touching and yet repellent.”

Luke
took a sip of his own coffee and gazed at the picture alongside me for a quiet moment. “It hit me the same way and that’s why I hung it here. I don’t like it, but I’m attracted to it all the same.”

I nodded
in perfect understanding, and this time viewed the house in the photograph with practical eyes. The long driveway had been straightened at some point over the years, which was what threw me, but I now recognized the white barn and the brick silo.

“Well, my Prepper, it certainly
brings to mind the saying that a picture paints a thousand words. You said Uncle Benny built this rambler over the foundation of that huge house. There’s a huge difference in the footprints of the two houses. How many underground rooms did you say are in that secret part of the basement where you led me last night?”

Luke smiled
, lightly running his hand down my back and over the curve of my ass in my baggy sweatpants. “I didn’t, but if you can keep your hands off me long enough to let me talk, I’ll tell you a little about our family secret. Last night was an emergency,” he patted my butt gently, “and a show of faith of how much I trust you that I took you into the bunker. Since my great-grandfather began building it, my family has had a longstanding rule that only direct family members are allowed to know of its existence.”