When she got home, Lauren grabbed the poodles and let them chase her around the yard until she was panting and sweating. The dogs collapsed in the shade, their little chests heaving. She wished she could lie there with them in the grass, knowing nothing more than they did.
She didn't know where Richard was. She didn't care.
This was her problem, and hers alone.
She sank onto a teak bench, surrounded by rhododendrons and white lilacs. She could hear the trickle and gurgle of the nearby waterfall fountain, a new addition to her gardens, carefully constructed of stone and water plants. Ordinarily she would have found its sounds soothing, but today they were irritating, everything setting her on edge.
After leaving Andrew's house, she'd turned around on the dead-end side street where Jedidiah Thorne had built his carriage house. Tess Haviland's car was parked in the driveway. She was out of sight, probably calculating whether she'd do better selling the place as is or fixing it up first. As is wouldn't cause Lauren a problem: she could snap it up herself. But if Tess decided to fix it up, or if she took an interest in the carriage house and kept it for herself, that could be a disaster.
Lauren brushed away tears that were hotter even than her flushed skin. If only she could go back a year, arrive at the carriage house sooner…and stop Andrew Thorne from killing her brother.
It must have been an accident, an act of passion and pent-up rage. Oh, God, she thought, who could blame him? He was raising his and Joanna's little girl alone. Ike had infected his wife like a virus, insidiously eroding all her defenses.
What must Andrew think now, with Tess next door?
He hadn't looked concerned when Lauren had brought him the garland. Despite his rough upbringing, he was nothing if not stoic, losing control only that one time in the carriage house, with tragic results.
The thought of him propelled Lauren to her feet. All her life, she'd been the one in the background doing what needed to be done to protect her brother, cleaning up after he'd been rude, impulsive, reckless or otherwise impossible.
She'd always made sure his excesses didn't hurt anyone else. She would do so again, no matter how unappealing her options, how much she still loved her brother and always would, and missed him-no matter how much she hated what she'd known for a year.
Her beautiful, outrageous brother was dead.
She had to concern herself with the living, with what was right.
Marcy, her favorite of the three poodles, rolled onto her back, and Lauren laughed, sinking onto the grass and rubbing the animal's stomach. "You know just what I need, don't you?" She felt the dog's quick heartbeat, let it strengthen her resolve. Marcy had been hit by a car two years ago, and yet, as tiny and broken as she was, she'd pulled through. "Let a little of your luck rub off on me, sweetheart, okay? Don't be stingy, because I'll need it."
Eleven
Tess sat out on her kitchen steps, feeling the strain in her neck and back from crouching to fix the cellar window. She'd managed the repair job without actually going into the cellar. She had a new plan-she'd go back to Boston tonight and get Susanna to come up with her in the morning. They'd search the cellar together. Susanna could handle a skeleton. If it turned out to be a figment of Tess's imagination, she could count on Susanna not to tell the whole world. She kept people's finances to herself, after all.
It was a good plan. Sensible.
Tess didn't consider herself a coward for not wanting to investigate the dirt cellar on her own. She'd gone down there by herself in the first place, hadn't she? She had nothing to prove, and if a crime had been committed-at whatever point in the past hundred thirty years-it might be smart to have a witness.
She spotted Dolly slipping through the lilacs and eased off the steps, down to the driveway.
"Is it okay if I come over?" Dolly asked, still technically in the lilacs and thus her own yard. "Harl says I'm not supposed to be a pest. Am I a pest?"
Tess smiled. "Mosquitoes are pests. A princess can never be a pest."
The little girl giggled as if Tess had said the funniest thing she'd ever heard. She looked behind her, on the Thorne side of the lilacs, and yelled, "Daddy, she says it's okay!" She turned to Tess and jumped out into the tall grass. "He'll be right over."
Tess had the feeling Andrew and Harl weren't about to let Dolly come over unchaperoned until they were satisfied about what had happened last night. Under the circumstances, she could hardly take offense.
"I brought Tippy Tail some food." Dolly reached into her pocket and withdrew a crumpled, squished individual packet of cat food. She showed it to Tess. "It's her favorite."
"Do you want to put it in her dish?"
Her eyes widened with excitement at such a prospect. "Could I?"
"Sure. Just tiptoe so you don't disturb her and the kittens. We should probably wait for your dad."
She rolled her eyes. "He won't go through the bushes. He says he's too big. Do you think he's too big?"
Tess laughed. "No, Dolly, I don't think he's too big."
He materialized behind her. "Too big for what?"
It was a question to which there was no good answer, and Tess saw the glint in his eyes. She said, "Dolly wants to feed Tippy Tail. I said it's okay, but probably just two of us should go inside. Your cat's on the skittish side."
"You two go ahead."
That was all the encouragement Dolly needed. She bounded over to the steps, stopped herself, then did an exaggerated but very quiet tiptoe. She turned her face up to Tess and whispered, "I have a loose tooth. See?" It was the sort of non sequitur Tess was coming to expect from the six-year-old. "Harl says he can pull it out with his pliers."
"You don't believe him, do you?"
She nodded. "Uh-huh!"
"Dolly," Andrew said. "You know Harl's just teasing you."
She giggled again, and Tess realized that Dolly Thorne had her rather unusual babysitter all figured out. And her taciturn father, too, no doubt. She was no more worried about Harl really pulling her tooth with a pair of pliers than he intended to do so.
She tore open the crumpled packet and dumped the food into the cat's new dish. Tippy Tail, stretching, still scraggly-looking, emerged from Tess's camp bed and padded over to the little girl. Dolly ran her hand over the cat's back. Tess thought the old cat looked as if she'd just delivered four kittens and could use a nice, long rest.
"Are you okay, Tippy Tail?" Dolly cooed. "You have cute babies. You be good to them, okay? I know you will." She looked back at Tess, her eyes bright with affection. "Tippy Tail is a good mommy cat, isn't she?"
Considering the animal had intended to have her kittens in a dirt cellar, Tess wasn't so sure. But what did she know about cats? "She seems to have good maternal instincts."
"What's instincts?"
"An instinct is knowing in your heart what's the right thing to do."
"Oh." Dolly stood up and watched Tippy Tail eat, then, dutifully keeping her distance, peeked at the kittens, who were all asleep on the sleeping bag. She whispered, as if Tess didn't know any better, "We should leave them alone."
She ran out the side door and plopped down on the steps as if she was in for an extended visit. Andrew motioned to her with one finger. "Got to go, kiddo."
"Can Tess come over for supper?"
Tess winced, standing at the bottom of the steps. "Actually, Dolly, I'm thinking about heading back to Boston tonight. That's where I live-"
"Please!"
Andrew leaned against her car, arms folded across his chest, looking relaxed and sexy, slightly less suspicious than last night and at lunch. "You're welcome to join us for dinner before you head back."
"Thanks, but-"
"Why're you going back to Boston?" Dolly asked. "Why can't you stay?"