Treacherous Tart (15 page)

“Why don't you give Mr. Hernandez a call? Maybe he'll make an emergency visit. It's nice out now, but it's supposed to be cold again tonight.”

Maggie agreed and tried to reach Mr. Hernandez. His voice mail said he was out of town for the weekend.

“I guess you and your aunt will have to come and stay with me and Dad until you can get it fixed.” Ryan walked upstairs in front of her.

Aunt Clara was already bringing in tree branches she'd found on the ground outside.

“We can use these in the fireplace until we get
the furnace fixed.” She dropped a bundle on the floor.

“That won't last very long.” Maggie eyed the branches with dismay. “I suppose we could run the dryer or something.”

“Yes!” Aunt Clara agreed. “And the oven. I'm sure there are some hair dryers too. We could hold them to warm our hands.”

“I don't think that will work,” Ryan interrupted. “We have that big old house that's mostly empty. The furnace works, and so does the oven in the kitchen for your pie making. You can stay with us until your furnace is fixed. Go upstairs. Get some of your stuff together and we'll go.”

Maggie was worried about causing more hard feelings between her aunt and Ryan's father. She hadn't planned to accept that invitation to dinner that Garrett had issued. They just didn't get along.

“We'll be fine, Ryan,” Maggie said. “Right, Aunt Clara?”

“Have you ever lived in a house heated by an oven and a dryer?” her aunt asked with raised brows.

“No.”

“I have.” Aunt Clara started upstairs. “Let's get our things and take him up on his offer.”

Maggie shrugged. “Okay.”

“That's better,” Ryan said. “You need any help?”

“We don't have any way of transporting Fanny
and her kittens,” Aunt Clara called down the stairs. “What are we going to do with them?”

They ended up putting Fanny and her kittens into a cardboard box that Ryan placed in the backseat of the car as they were getting ready to leave. Maggie and Aunt Clara each put a bag into the trunk.

“I guess that's it.” Aunt Clara looked up at the house as Maggie locked up. “I already miss it.”

“We'll be fine.” Maggie hugged her. “We're lucky to have someone who will take us in.”

“Indeed we are.” Aunt Clara smiled. “We won't let Lenora, or a broken furnace, keep us down.”

Maggie had only been to Ryan's home once. She was uncomfortable there with its stiff formality. They preferred to meet at Aunt Clara's house.

Ryan's home was a large, two-story stone house that resembled a small castle in many ways. The grounds were well kept, surrounded by a tall stone fence that separated the property from the road. It was an impressive home, one that made it easy to believe that the
Durham Weekly
had once been a prosperous endeavor.

“My goodness!” Aunt Clara's eyes widened as they drove through the front gate with a lion on each stone pillar.

“It's a lot more than we need.” Ryan pulled smoothly up the blacktop drive. There were carefully trimmed Bradford pear trees that faithfully followed along the sides of the winding drive. “We'd probably
be better off selling this monstrosity and keeping the
Weekly
's building. We could always live there.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Aunt Clara chastised. “This is your family legacy, as much as the newspaper. Do you decorate for Christmas?”

Ryan laughed. “Dad and I don't do much of anything for Christmas, or any other holiday. We haven't had a Christmas tree since my mother died.”

“What a shame.” Aunt Clara's eyes roamed everywhere on the estate. “Someday you'll fill this place with children. That will make it come back to life.”

Ryan parked the car near the front door and popped the trunk open. “Feel free to explore, or decorate if you like. I'll show you the guest rooms and the kitchen.”

As he grabbed their bags and walked into the house, Aunt Clara pulled at Maggie's sleeve. “Imagine what you could do with this place.”

“We don't have plans for anything like that right now.” Maggie blushed a little, hoping Ryan hadn't heard her aunt. “I'll bet they have a great kitchen. Let's take a look.”

The inside of the house was clean and comfortable, very masculine. No extras like vases or bric-a-brac. Everything was in good shape, but there was a utilitarian air about it.

“Almost like a hunting lodge,” Aunt Clara muttered. “These men could use a few flowers and some Christmas lights. A rug or two wouldn't hurt either.”

“You know you could marry Garrett, and all of this would be yours,” Maggie teased her.

“That ship has sailed, dear.”

“What do you think?” Ryan asked as he stood before the wide staircase. “Looks like a museum, right?”

“It's stunning!” Aunt Clara admired the woodwork and the large chandelier above her. “Maybe you could move your office here. There seems to be plenty of room.”

Ryan considered her suggestion. “That could actually work! In the meantime, let me show you to the bedrooms.” He picked up the box with Fanny and the kittens meowing inside and took it upstairs.

They settled the cats into Aunt Clara's bedroom and dropped off her bag. Maggie's room was next door. She was pleased to see that she didn't have to share the large bathroom with anyone.

Once Aunt Clara and Maggie were settled, Ryan took them down to the kitchen.

“Wow!” Maggie looked around at the kitchen, which was the size of the entire downstairs at her aunt's house. “You and Garrett don't cook at all, and you have this magnificent kitchen fit for a chef.”

“My mom loved parties.” He smoothed his hand along the light-colored marble countertop. “She spent hours in here getting ready for them. I don't know if she ever made the same food twice.”

“I could live right here,” Aunt Clara declared in
the center of the kitchen. “Double ovens! I love this place.”

Garrett strode into the kitchen as they were looking around. “This is a surprise. Hello, Clara, Maggie.”

Ryan explained about the furnace at Clara's house and his invitation for the ladies to stay there with them.

His father looked completely delighted. “That's exactly what this old place needs—a woman's touch. A little home cooking wouldn't hurt either. I hope there's enough food in the house. If not, we can send Ryan out for some.”

“Maggie and I are going to make chicken potpie for the library Christmas fund-raiser,” Aunt Clara explained. “I hope you and Ryan like potpie.”

Garrett bent slightly, lifted her hand, and kissed it. “Dear lady, we would enjoy
anything
you care to make. I think we should have pie pans here somewhere.”

Garrett and Aunt Clara started rummaging around in the cabinets and drawers. There were indeed several pie pans, dozens of mixing bowls, and anything else they'd need to make pie.

“There's no flour.” Maggie unzipped the cooler where they'd packed the chicken and vegetables they'd planned to use for the potpie. She hadn't thought to bring flour. It seemed like something every kitchen would have.

“I'll get some,” Ryan volunteered.

“From here it would be as close to go back to the house,” Maggie said. “Let's drive back there and get our flour.”

“And vegetable shortening.” Aunt Clara was looking through the cabinets. “And tea and sugar. I like my potpies washed down with plenty of sweet tea, don't you, Garrett?”

“That sounds wonderful,” he enthused. “Are you sure you don't want us to purchase those things?”

“We have plenty at the house,” Maggie said. “We might as well bring them here.”

She put her coat back on and got ready to leave again. Maggie didn't want to take money from Garrett, especially not now. They might have a big house, but she wasn't sure if they were in any better financial position than she and Aunt Clara.

She knew real estate could be deceiving. Someone might own a big, impressive house and be teetering on the brink of bankruptcy.

“I hope you don't think you have to cook for us,” Ryan said as they were walking out the door. “We get along okay by ourselves. I don't want to put you and your aunt out.”

“You're letting us stay with you. I think we could whip up a couple of potpies.” Maggie laughed. “Aunt Clara could anyway. Outside of the normal pies we make, that's all I know besides microwave food.”

“We have a whole freezer of microwave dinners.” Ryan started the car. “I think we'll survive.”

They were back at Aunt Clara's house in no time. “I'll just be a minute,” Maggie said. “You stay here and keep the car warm.”

Ryan agreed, and Maggie let herself in the house. She was putting the flour, shortening, tea bags, and sugar into a shopping bag when she heard a noise in the basement.

She shook her head.
Probably the old furnace still making groaning noises.

She added a few other necessities to take to Ryan's.

Then another clanking sound reverberated up from the basement, but louder this time. It was definitely
not
a furnace sound. This was more like a tool dropping on the concrete floor.

With everything that had been going on recently, Maggie was spooked. She picked up a fireplace poker with trembling hands, swallowed hard, and then opened the door that led to the basement. She knew better than to turn on a light and alert a possible thief. Instead, she started down the stairs with the poker raised in her right hand.

I
t briefly crossed
her mind that she should've gone out and alerted Ryan. She could've even called him from the kitchen before going down into the dark basement to see what was going on. If something happened to her, he'd at least know where to look.

Did all of those horror movies you watched teach you nothing?

Apparently not.

She reached the ground floor and looked around. There was a light coming from the back of the
furnace. She couldn't see anyone, but she kept hearing noises from that direction.

Why would anyone want to be in the basement behind the furnace?

For a minute, she thought it could be Mr. Hernandez. Maybe he got back in town early, heard her message, and decided to come over and work on the furnace. It seemed like a long shot, but he was a very nice man, and nothing else made sense.

With the threat of danger diminished, at least in her mind, Maggie called out, “Hello? Mr. Hernandez?”

There was no response. She realized her voice was barely above a whisper.

Strengthening her grip on the poker, she cleared her throat and tried again.

This time, the light moved from behind the furnace.

Please be Mr. Hernandez. Please be Mr. Hernandez.

“David?” Was that really David back there?

“Maggie? I thought you were staying with your friends.”

“I am. I forgot a few things. How did you know?”

“Your aunt called my mother.”

“What are you doing down here?”

“I thought I'd take a look at the furnace and see if there was anything I could do. I think this is the same furnace I used to work on with your Uncle Fred.”

She was bewildered. “But I set the alarm. How did you get inside? I know Aunt Clara didn't give you the alarm code without asking me.”

He pointed to the small window right above the foundation line. “I didn't know you had an alarm. I came in the way I always did when we were kids, remember? I guess the alarm doesn't cover that window. You should have that looked at.”

“I will.”

“Maggie?” Ryan called from upstairs. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I'm down here,” she called out. “I'll be right up.”

Ryan was on the stairs before she could go back up. “What's going on?” He peered at David's face in the flashlight beam. “What's
he
doing here?”

“Just trying to help out,” David's voice sang out. “I'm afraid Maggie was right. The furnace is dead. Fred and I put it back together dozens of times when I was in high school. I guess it could only hold up for so long.”

“Thanks for trying anyway,” Maggie said. “Why don't you come out this way? It must've been hard squeezing through that little window. You're a lot bigger now than you were back then.”

David agreed. Ryan went back up the stairs, and Maggie followed him.

“What about the alarm?” Ryan whispered to her. “Did you forget to set it, or have you already given him the code?”

“I'll tell you later.” She didn't want David to explain how he knew there was another way into the house. She closed the door again after David emerged from the dimly lit basement.

“I'm sorry if I scared you.” David turned off his flashlight and smiled down at her. “I only wanted to help.”