Mistletoe Bay (11 page)

Coop took a step closer. “Now wiggle your way farther down, closer to the edge.” Tucker wiggled a few inches. “Farther, and let your feet drop down. Coop stretched his arms high into the air. A few more inches, and Coop's big strong hands wrapped around Tucker's ankles. “That's it. I've got you. Keep coming.”

She held her breath as Tucker's belly skimmed the roof and he dropped safely into Coop's arms.

Tucker looked over Coop's broad shoulder at her and grinned. “Hey, Mom, Felicity's ladder doesn't reach the ground.”

“I knew that.” She walked over to Coop and with shaking hands took her son and stood him on his feet. “Now, would you like to explain why you used your aunt's emergency ladder? If I recall correctly, it was under her bed, and you boys all had been told countless times not to touch it.”

Felicity, who had Corey perched on one of her hips, groaned. “He was in my room again!”

Tucker looked at the ground and dug the toe of his sneaker into the dirt. Everyone was standing around outside, and no one but Chase had on a coat. In a low voice, he softly whispered, “I was looking for Fred.”

“He was in my room again,” wailed Chase. “Mom, you told him to stay out of it.”

“Who's Fred?” asked Coop as he glanced up at the open window on the third floor.

“Did you let Fred out of his cage again?” Jenni really didn't need this today. Fred scared her.

“Who's Fred?” repeated Coop. “And why is he in a cage?” Coop frowned as Felicity paled and Dorothy crossed herself.

“He's in my room?” screeched Felicity. “Jenni, you promised to keep Fred out of my room! He's disgusting and he gives me the creeps.”

Jenni rubbed her forehead, where a headache was forming. Now that Tucker was safely on solid ground, she was coming down from the adrenaline rush. It didn't help matters. “I'm not thrilled with him either, Felicity. Calm down, we'll get him back into his cage somehow.”

“Let's call Sam. He caught him the last time.” Chase thumped his brother on the arm. “Stay out of my room and away from Fred. He doesn't like you.”

Coop looked confused and nervous. “Okay, that's it—who is Fred?” Coop locked gazes with her. “Tell Dorothy to stop crossing herself and praying; it's getting on my nerves.”

“Dorothy, please, it's okay. We'll get him.” Jenni grabbed Chase by the back of his coat. “Stop hitting your brother. You know you aren't supposed to hit him. There is to be no hitting in this family.”

“He knows he's not supposed to open Fred's cage.” Chase stuck his tongue out at his brother. There was a look of retaliation in his green eyes.

Tucker, not to be outdone by his brother, stuck out his tongue.

“Jenni, how big is Fred?” Coop glanced up at the window.

She held up her hands until they were about ten inches apart. Fred wasn't a fast grower.

“Okay.” Coop's shoulders seem to relax. “Now what
is
Fred?”

“Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you knew.” Jenni couldn't imagine what had been going through Coop's mind. “Fred is Chase's pet iguana.”

“You have a loose pet iguana in the house, with two cats?” Coop held back his laughter while stating the obvious.

Jenni paled and said a very unmotherly word as she sprinted for the front door. All three boys were right on her heels.

Chapter Six

Dorothy handed her daughter a Pop-Tart.

“I thought you said you were making bacon and eggs?” Felicity frowned at the offending tart and then glanced at the stove.

“I was, until Chase couldn't find his homework.” Dorothy poured herself another cup of coffee. It was her third of the morning and she still wasn't fully awake. Sleep last night had been impossible. Half the time when she closed her eyes she kept visualizing Fred crawling up on her bed, even though she knew the reptile was securely in his cage. It had taken Jenni and the boys almost two hours to find the prehistoric creature yesterday afternoon.

Fred had been basking in the warmth behind the radiator in Chase's room—apparently the last place they'd looked.

The other half of the time she was kicking off blankets and sweating like a pig in July. The darn mechanical monster in the basement must have been on the fritz again.

“What does Chase's homework have to do with me eating junk for breakfast?” Felicity tossed the breakfast pastry onto a plate and went in search of something else to eat. “I hate Pop-Tarts.”

“You love strawberries.” She wasn't in the mood for her daughter's snit fit. She wanted a nap. She needed a nap.

Maybe she shouldn't have overruled Jenni when her daughter-in-law suggested they put Tucker and Corey into a preschool. Here it was only November, and she was wiped out from chasing after them all day long. Raising kids was not for the weak of heart and body. She was afraid both her heart and her body were heading for the old-age home.

“I also love chocolate chip mint ice cream. It doesn't mean I want to eat it between preservative-choked pastries every morning. Whatever happened to your favorite saying, that breakfast was the most important meal of the day?”

“Don't be dramatic. You didn't have Pop-Tarts once this week.” She cradled her cup and took another jolt of caffeine. She could hear Jenni herding the boys upstairs. It sounded like a bunch of elephants doing the Watusi.

“No, I had Cocoa Puffs, and the sugar high lasted until second period at school. Then I was miserable until lunch, where I pigged out and ate Sam's dessert, along with mine.” Felicity picked up a banana and peeled it. “My jeans are getting tight. I can't afford to keep eating sugar for breakfast. Whatever happened to your cinnamon French toast or that cheese omelet you used to whip up for me nearly every morning? I'd die for a piece of that toast right now.”

Dorothy decided to ignore the crack about all the good stuff she used to cook in the morning. Mornings used to be her favorite part of the day. Now she dreaded them. She was now extremely partial to bedtime.

“You're not fat.” Felicity was five feet nine inches tall and as skinny as a rail. Most of the time she was worried that her daughter wasn't eating enough. “You could stand to put on a few more pounds.”

“Hush your mouth.” Felicity twisted her neck to look over her shoulder at her butt. “God, it's sticking out!” Felicity wailed.

“It is not.” Teenage girls were insane. “Maybe I should take you for an eye exam.” When was the last time her daughter had been at an eye doctor? Two years? Three?

“My eyes are fine. Where's the bacon? I dreamt of bacon last night.” Felicity took a big bite of the banana and glared at the empty frying pan sitting on the stove.

“It was sitting on the counter, ready for me to cook, when Chase had his emergency. I left the kitchen, and Dumb, or maybe it was Dumber, jumped up on the counter and started to eat it.”

“Gross.” Felicity continued eating the banana. “So, because of a cat, I get to eat like a monkey? That's not fair, Mom. Nothing is fair anymore. Corey had his turtle in the bathtub again last night. I almost stepped on it.”

“You know to always check the tub first.” There was no getting around it, Felicity was in a whining mood. “Buster likes to swim.”

“What about Tucker?”

“What about him?” She loved her grandson dearly, but she was starting to fantasize about locking him in the basement. The other day she'd caught herself in Krup's General Store in town drooling over the deadbolts.

“He picked up the extension last night and was making kissing sounds when I was talking to Sam on the phone.”

“I thought you were doing homework.” She didn't want to think about what Sam and her daughter were discussing. With Tucker on the other end, she knew it couldn't have been too bad. Jenni had talked her into allowing Felicity to date at sixteen, as long as she was in a group.

Felicity was now seventeen and allowed real dates, as long as she was home by curfew. Her daughter swore she was the only girl in the high school who had to be home by nine on a school night and eleven on the weekends. She thought she was being very lenient, while Felicity thought she was being totally unreasonable. Jenni smartly left the room whenever that particular discussion erupted.

She'd never had problems with Felicity and her occasional dates, until Sam had appeared on the scene.

Samuel Fischer was giving her an ulcer. The young couple were way too serious about each other. She had already sat her daughter down twice and had the birds-and-bees conversation. It had been one of the hardest things she had ever done. Being a widow for five years, she was a tad rusty on the subject, and for the life of her, she still couldn't figure out what birds or bees had to do with sex.

She had a feeling her daughter sat through both of those talks trying not to laugh. Hopefully it was because her daughter was trying to show her some respect and not the fact that Felicity had known all that stuff already.

“How is Sam?” Last night was one of those rare nights when Sam hadn't shown up for dinner or hours of television watching when he wasn't checking out Felicity. Maybe things were finally cooling off between them.

“He's fine. He had to help his sister, Faith, with her algebra homework while his dad took Hope shopping for a homecoming dance dress.” Felicity poured herself a glass of orange juice. “Which reminds me, I need to go shopping for one myself. Sam's taking me to the dance.”

So much for things cooling off. “When is it?” She would add it to the list of things to do.

“Two weeks.” Felicity downed the juice. “I asked Sam to have Thanksgiving dinner here with us, but he can't. He doesn't want to leave his father and two sisters to their frozen TV dinners. Sam says his father couldn't fry an edible egg, let alone an entire Thanksgiving dinner.”

Well, that explained why Sam was at their dinner table nearly every night of the week.

Since she wasn't having any luck putting some space between her daughter and Sam, maybe it was time to meet his family. She wasn't quite sure what had happened to Sam's mother, but hopefully his father felt the same way she did about the seriousness of their teenagers' relationship. She could use an ally.

“Why don't you invite Sam's father and two sisters to dinner along with Sam? It would be a shame for them to suffer through TV dinners on Thanksgiving.”

“Really?” Felicity sounded excited. “You wouldn't mind?”

“I'll just buy a bigger turkey and throw a couple extra potatoes into the pot.”

“You mean that?” Felicity's green eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Sure, what's three more people?” When was the last time she had seen Felicity so happy with her? She couldn't remember.

Felicity flung her arms around her mother's neck and planted a loud kiss on her mother's cheek. “You're the best, Mom.”

“Thank you.” Her morning was suddenly looking up, way up.

“I'll tell Sam when he gets here to pick me up for school.” Felicity grabbed her coat and backpack. “He's running late as usual.”

“What's all this about?” Jenni stood in the opening of the kitchen smiling at them both.

“Sam's dad and sisters are coming here for Thanksgiving dinner, Jenni. Mom says I can invite them. You don't mind, do you?”

Dorothy felt a little foolish for not getting Jenni's approval first. After all, it was Jenni's house. “Sorry, Jenni. I should have asked you first.”

“Nonsense. I would love to meet them, Felicity. The more the merrier.”

“Great.” Felicity practically danced out of the kitchen.

Jenni's smile grew. “It's been a long time since I've seen her so happy.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” She heard Sam pull up out front and blow his horn. The slamming of the front door punctuated Felicity's departure.

 

 

“I'll get it!” Dorothy reached for the ringing phone before the boys could abandon the television and the afternoon cartoons. For once Tucker had been behaving himself and was allowed to watch TV with his brothers.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” said a pleasant-sounding man. “May I please speak to Dorothy Wright?”

“This is she.” Whatever he was selling, she might listen to his sales pitch. His voice was on the husky side, and he definitely had a Maine accent.

“Hello, this is Eli Fischer, Sam's father.”

“Oh, hi.” Her first thought was that something was wrong, but then she realized Felicity was already home from school and working in the shop with Jenni. “Is Sam all right?”

“Sam's fine.” Eli chuckled. “I'm just calling to thank you for the invitation to Thanksgiving at your place. It's very nice of you to think of me and Sam's two sisters.”

“No problem. The more the merrier, as Jenni says. We usually eat around five-thirty. Will that be okay with you?”

“Five-thirty will be fine, but there's a condition on us accepting the invitation.”

“What sort of condition?” Felicity had told her he couldn't cook at all, so she was hoping he wasn't going to insist on bringing dessert. She had her heart set on baking some pumpkin pies using her grandmother's recipes.

“My son swears that the old heating system in your basement is about to explode. I'm a mechanic, and there's nothing I love more than a good challenge. How about I come early so I can tinker around with it to see if I can get it to behave, or at least quiet down some?”

“I don't know.” She would love for someone, anyone, to tinker around with the monster, using a battering ram and a blowtorch. “We've already had two different guys look at it, both say it's hopeless.”

“Please, now I'm intrigued. Hopeless is my specialty.”

She could hear the laughter in his voice. What did they have to lose but a three-ton monster in the basement? It wasn't like it wasn't on its last legs anyway. How much damage could he possibly do? “Okay, if you want to give it a shot, who am I to argue?”

“Really?” Eli sounded as happy as Felicity had this morning when she left the house.

“Really.” Who was she to deprive the cute-sounding man of a challenge. “We'll see you and the girls on Thanksgiving. Come anytime you want. We'll be here.”

“We'll be there.” Eli paused for a moment before adding, “Thank you, Dorothy. It's very nice of you.”

“Nonsense. Somehow I think we might get the better end of this deal. Bye.”

“Bye.”

She hung up the phone and tried to picture what Sam's father looked like. What kind of face would go with that voice? Did he look like Sam, who had dark hair and eyes and was tall and thin? Then again, what did it matter? Eli Fischer could look like a bowling ball as far as she was concerned. She was looking for an ally, not a date.

“Grandmom, can we have cookies now?” asked Corey as he came running into the kitchen with Tucker on his heels.

“I'll fix you a snack, but it won't be cookies. You boys go wash up.” A grandmother's work was never done.

Jenni shivered inside her heavy coat. She wasn't cold; she was scared to death. Corey was missing.

God, what was she going to do? She'd give it another twenty minutes before calling the sheriff. Corey couldn't have gotten that far. He had been missing for only the past twenty minutes or so. Sam had already called some of his buddies from the football team to search the woods. From where she stood at the edge of the bay, she could hear them arriving.

Mistletoe Bay was gorgeous with its natural wonders. Development along the shore had been kept to a minimum, and most of what had been built was well concealed. The bay was the perfect spot to raise a family. It was also deadly.

Corey knew not to go near the water. When Dorothy had come running into the shop to give her the news that she couldn't find Corey, the first place Jenni had run was to the bay. It was the most dangerous.

Was it instinct that made her run to the edge of the water, or a premonition?