Page 10 of Dangerous December (Northern Pines Suspense #8)

With a large FedEx delivery of books to sort through, a steady stream of customers, and a long lunch with Maura at the Dancing Lily tearoom on Main, Tuesday had flown by.

Beth glanced at her watch as they walked into her bookstore. “It’s already three o’clock, Mom. I can’t believe we stayed at the Lily so long!”

“It was those fabulous sour cream scones with lemon curd. I couldn’t bear to leave a single crumb on the plate.”

Maura slipped off her sparkly purple wool shawl and tossed it over the back of an oak rocker by the front desk. “Of course, catching up with the news around here was even better.”

At the wistful note in her mother’s voice, Beth felt a flash of concern. “Maybe it’s time for you to move here again. You always said this was one of your favorite places to live, and you still have friends here. I’d like it if you didn’t live so far away.”

Maura flipped a hand dismissively as she paused at the aisle filled with a long magazine rack. “They say you can’t really go home again. People change, you change. It wouldn’t ever be the same. And I’ve got a very good life in California.”

But did she? Despite her tendency to flamboyance, Beth had caught moments when her mother looked pensive and distracted, though she refused to discuss it. And she was getting older, even though that subject was strictly off-limits.

As time went on and her health failed, what then?

“Think about it, anyway. Are you still planning to go upstairs for a nap?”

“As soon as I find a new magazine to take with me.” Maura moved farther down the magazine aisle and out of sight. “Something on decorating, I think. While I’m here, I could help you spruce this place up. More vibrant colors would do it. Purples. Reds. A splash of canary. More pizzazz.”

From behind the front counter, Janet grinned at Beth as she handed over a stack of pink telephone notes.

“You had five messages as soon as you left for lunch,” she said as she handed them over.

“Three of those people called again during the last five minutes, hoping you’d returned. Olivia, the pastor, and Dev.”

Beth blinked. “Goodness.”

Maura reappeared. “It’s a shame you need to deal with him at all.”

There was certainly no problem with her mother’s hearing where Dev was concerned. “The pastor?”

Maura ignored Beth’s lame attempt at humor. “Your ex-husband, as you well know. But as disappointed as I am in that man, I still hope you’ve had that talk with him.”

Beth flinched, all too aware of Janet’s curious appraisal. “Mother.”

Glancing between them, Janet tactfully slipped from behind the counter and hurried toward the back of the store. “I’m going to the storeroom to unpack some books,” she called out over her shoulder. “Yell if you need anything.”

“Sorry,” Maura murmured, though she didn’t look particularly contrite. “So...have you had that talk?”

Beth lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “No.”

“The last thing you needed was for that Devlin to show up in town. After the way he treated you, I hope he never does again. But he should still share some of the pain you went through. He deserves to know, honey.”

“Does he? What possible good could that do? Nothing would change. I don’t want anything to change. He and I are finished. Forever.”

“But—”

“No, Mom. Think about it.” Her voice had risen, and she took a steadying breath.

“He could feel remorse, and then he’d have that burden to carry.

Or he might not care at all and just offer some empty platitudes—and I would feel worse.

Much, much worse, because I’d be so angry.

And I don’t know if I could ever let it go. ”

In her teens, she might have stormed away and slammed her bedroom door for a satisfying closure to the discussion. Now, she just sighed. “So please, just don’t bring this up again. Promise? None of my friends know either, and I want to keep it that way.”

Maura studied her sadly. “It’s your choice, so I’ll say no more.... except that you’re wrong about this, and I hope that someday you’ll see that I’m right.”

Always the last word. Beth bit back a reply and focused on the message slips in her hand. “Some of these are for you, Mom,” she said as she handed them over.

Maura stared out the front window for a moment before looking down to study her messages. “My gallery, every last one of them. Hollister should be able to handle everything just fine without calling every two hours.”

She lifted her shawl from the rocker and slipped it over her shoulders with a flourish as she headed for the door. “I’ll call her on my cell from upstairs.”

Beth waited until her mother left, then went to the storeroom and braced a hand on the door frame. At Janet’s bemused expression, she shook her head. “Thanks for the space.”

“She sure does hold a grudge—over whatever he did.” Janet fanned her face with one hand. “Whew.”

“My mom is a wonderful woman in many ways, but she doesn’t like Dev and has never hesitated to remind me.” Beth sighed. “During the years we were married, I never discussed any problems with her. She would have jumped on them like a dog on a bone.”

“And what’s with her assistant? This was her fourth call since your mother got here.”

“I’m beginning to wonder. Except for the topic of my ex-husband, she has seemed so...so vague about what’s troubling her. But I know something is—I can feel it.”

“Maybe she’s in the midst of some major art sales? Trouble with difficult artists?”

Beth bit her lower lip. “I doubt it. She carries very nice originals, but not major names. She enjoys giving newer artists exposure by giving them space for their shows, so the public has a chance to get in on the ground floor with some of their pieces. Everybody’s happy.”

Janet held up her hands, palm up. “So...what does that mean, exactly—ground floor?”

“The oils are usually less than five hundred, the pottery and art glass less than a hundred.”

“Which is about what you find in the galleries around town. So if she did move here, she could easily fit right in.”

“True. And coming back to town would be a good thing. I’m worried about her, really...I think something’s wrong and she just won’t admit it.” Beth reached for the cell phone in her purse. “My mother can be one very stubborn lady.”

Dev got out of his Jeep to study the building next to the bookstore. The lawyer had arranged to get him the keys so he could do a quick walk-through inspection.

As always, the bookstore caught his eye, and he found himself wondering if he might catch a glimpse of Beth through the big plate-glass front windows...though this time, he saw Maura coming out the door.

She stared at him. Hesitated. Then beckoned.

This couldn’t be good.

But when she beckoned again, he sighed and crossed the street. At the age of thirty-four, he felt like a schoolboy being brought into the principal’s office.

She moved a few yards down the sidewalk, out of sight of the store windows.

Her expression was troubled. “Look, you and I have had our differences over the years, even if they were mostly unspoken. Since I’ll only be here another week or so, I.

..well, I thought I’d better just come out and say it.

” Her voice was flat, without anger, but he had no doubt that she meant every last word.

“I’ve been worrying about you spending time with my daughter. ”

No one could say Maura didn’t speak her mind. The irony was that his own parents hadn’t approved of Beth any more than Maura had approved of him. “We only have a business relationship. Nothing more.”

“I saw the look in your eyes when you came into the store.”

What look in his eyes? Dev jammed his hands into his jacket pockets. “Your daughter has no interest in resurrecting a relationship with me. And that’s not what I’m after, either.”

“I don’t want her hurt again.”

“I never meant to let that happen. But she has already moved on. She has a good life—far better than she would’ve had with me.”

“A good life?” Maura’s gaze riveted on his, as if she were daring him to feel the pain he’d caused. “Someday, you two need to talk about this.”

Her quiet vehemence startled him. “We have.”

“No...not everything.” Maura bit her lip, as if she were debating saying more, then sighed. “Leave her alone, Devlin. Don’t have a little fling with the past and fly off to wherever it is you go these days. I trust you’re a better man than that.”

But the expression in her eyes showed that she didn’t trust him at all.

Beth’s phone messages on Tuesday had all been about the same topic—setting up a youth project for cleaning up the Walker Building.

Olivia and Pastor Jamison had been brimming with enthusiasm, while Dev apparently wanted to fend them off so he could continue down his solitary path—preferring silence and slow progress to a legion of teenagers eager to do a good deed.

When Beth finally convinced him this morning that gracious acceptance was the fastest way to satisfy everyone and then be left alone, he had grudgingly agreed.

Now, Beth stood with him in the center of the building on Wednesday evening, watching two dozen teens haul the final garbage bags of refuse down the open stairway to the second floor.

As industrious as a legion of ants, they’d already cleared the first level, leaving another youth squadron to scrub the filthy hardwood floors with brushes and buckets.

“I told you this was a great idea,” Beth said, slapping her dusty gloves against her jeans. “They’re just about done. What they have finished in four hours would have taken you a week . And you’re helping them raise funds, to boot.”

Dev snorted. “Not if they have anything to say about it. So far, Pastor Jamison and the kids have refused payment, other than the delivery of pizza and pop that’s on its way right now.”

She looked up at him and fought the urge to brush away a fragile cobweb drifting across the deep waves of his hair. A tender move entirely too intimate and wifely.

Past boundaries she had no intention of crossing.

“Did they say why?”