Angel Lane (9 page)

“We're done,” said her father. “Anyway, it's after seven. The Goblin Walk is over.”

After seven already? Wow. Time flew when you were . . . stressed.

“Your poor old gramps can't take any more adventure tonight, Lissa girl,” said the older man.

“Would you like to take a truffle with you?” Jamie offered. That pulled the princess immediately out of her pout. “Okay.”

“Come on over and look and see what you'd like,” Jamie said, and stepped behind the counter.

Lissa the princess stood in front of the case, studying everything.

“Do you like coconut?” asked Jamie.

Lissa nodded, her eyes sparkling. “I love coconut.”

“And white chocolate?”

Lissa's brows furrowed as she thought about it. “I don't know. But it sounds good,” she added.

“Well,” Jamie said, cutting off a piece of white chocolate coconut fudge laced with lemon. “Let's see if it's as good as it sounds.” She handed it over to Lissa, who took a delicate bite. She smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “It's good.”

Jamie smiled back. “I'm glad.”

“What's your name?” asked Lissa.

“Jamie.”

“I'm Lissa. I'm nine. My sister's only six. She's a baby.”

“Am not,” shot Mandy from her father's arms.

“Are, too,” said Lissa. “You got lost.”

That started Mandy crying again. “I think we'd better go,” said Josh. “Thanks again for finding my daughter.”

“No problem,” said Jamie.

They filed out the door just as Emma arrived. Jamie saw the undisguised lust in her friend's eyes as she and Josh exchanged polite hellos. There had been no mention of a mommy. Josh the cop was single. Talk about perfect for Emma.

A moment later Emma was shutting the shop door behind her. “Who was that? He's gorgeous.”

“Josh Armstrong. His kid was lost.”

“And you found her?” Emma was lighting up like a theater marquee. “Oh, my gosh, that's such a movie moment.”

Jamie made a face. “How did I know you'd say that?”

“And talk about a good deed. Wow! Is he single?”

“I'm not sure, but I think so. I'll introduce you to him.”

“Like I could compete with you and all that gorgeous blondness,” Emma said. “Anyway, you saw him first.”

“That doesn't mean I want him,” said Jamie, going to fetch her purse.

“You'd be crazy not to.”

“Well, then, call me crazy. I don't need another cop in my life. Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. Took it back.”

 

Emma shook her head as she followed Jamie out of the Chocolate Bar. She couldn't blame Jamie for being scarred for life. Married to any man who smacked her around would be enough to scar any woman. At least Jamie had had the sense to get out
quickly. This policeman sure didn't seem like the smacking type, not from the way those little girls were climbing all over him. He looked like the catch of the day. He also looked like the kind of man who went for women like Jamie. And Tess L'amour.

Emma sighed inwardly. Oh, well. She had Jimmy Stewart waiting at home.
Rear Window,
candy corn, and a Vampire's Kiss—now, that was living.

But back at Emma's place Jamie didn't seem to think so. She only drank half of her Vampire's Kiss, even though she was sleeping in the guest room. (Also the office and fabric room, but Emma had managed to uncover the day bed.) And she thought
Rear Window
was boring.

“How can you say that?” Emma protested. “That movie is a classic.”

Jamie pulled a DVD out of her purse. “Now, here's a classic. Let's watch this next.”

Emma took it. “
Friday the 13th
. Oh, gross.”

“We each got to pick one,” Jamie reminded her.

Emma made a face. “Ick.”

“My turn, my pick.”

“We could make some more gift jars,” Emma suggested.

“While we watch the movie,” said Jamie with a wicked smile.

“You're sick,” Emma muttered, but she put the movie on.

It was totally disgusting and creepy. Emma sat at the card table with her back to the TV while they did their craft projects, but just the screams were enough to make her want to run and hide under her bed. “I'll never be able to sleep tonight,” she complained when it was done.

“Good thing it's Saturday. The shop's closed tomorrow and you can sleep in,” Jamie said heartlessly.

“You have rotten taste.”

“Thank you.” Jamie dumped the last of her Vampire's Kiss in the kitchen sink, then started down the hall to the guest room, calling over her shoulder, “Pleasant dreams.”

“Oh, fine. Scare the liver out of me and then leave me to turn off the lights by myself.”

Emma had lived on her own ever since she graduated from college, and being alone never bothered her. It certainly didn't now, she told herself, especially when she had another person in the house with her. Like Jamie would be any help against a crazed killer. Or Mrs. Nitz, who lived on the other side of the duplex and was eighty and deaf as a stone. Emma thought of that big, gorgeous policeman. Was he still on duty?

The wind had picked up outside. She could hear her wind chime tinkling like crazy. It was a dark and stormy night, just the kind of night that movie murderers picked to wreak mayhem.

Oh, stop.

The sound of a familiar pitiful yowl drifted in from outside: the scared kitty from the other night. She'd once heard black cats were an endangered species on Halloween, that devil worshippers kidnapped them and cut them up. It probably wasn't true, but she hated to take a risk on that poor lost cat. Who knew which of its nine lives it was on?

She went to the door, opened it a crack, and peered into the darkness. She could see shadows of trees swaying in the breeze like giant monsters. “Kitty?”

A forlorn meow answered her.

She turned on the porch light and stepped onto the porch. “Are you there?”

A head peeped out.

“Oh, you poor thing.”

The cat took a tentative step out into the open. And then another, sizing her up. Maybe wondering where the tuna was.

“Come here, kitty,” she cooed, leaning over.

It took one more step, a poor little animal craving affection, a good deed in need of doing.

She reached out a hand to pet it. And got a nasty Halloween present.

 

 

 

 

Y
ow!” Emma howled, grabbing her hand.

The black cat dove back into the bushes, and Emma went inside and slammed her door. “Fine. No tuna fish for you.”

“Who are you yelling at?” Jamie was coming down the hallway in an Old Navy black ribbed top and plaid jammie bottoms, her slender feet stuffed into fuzzy pink slippers. She looked like Cameron Diaz. Only better.

If Emma stopped eating things like candy corn and went to the gym three times a week, she, too, would look like . . . Wait a minute. Who was she kidding? No she wouldn't. “Do you ever look bad?” she said in disgust.

Jamie rolled her eyes. “Never. You're bleeding.” She pointed to Emma's hand. “Very Halloween of you.”

“My good deed scratched me,” Emma said, and moved to the
kitchen. “I think I've got a homeless cat camping in my flower bed.”

“You've got a pissy cat camping in your flower bed,” Jamie corrected.

“You'd be pissy, too, if you were scared and cold,” Emma said, already forgiving the cat for its bad manners. She turned on the faucet and ran her bleeding hand under the water. “It's hungry. I gave it a can of tuna last night. Maybe that was its last meal. I know I get grumpy when I don't eat.”

Jamie walked over and inspected the long scratch. “Grumpy is one thing. That animal needs to be in a horror movie.”

“It just needs more food.” Emma blotted her hand dry with a paper towel and went to forage in the cupboard where she kept her canned goods. The cat was in luck. She had one can of tuna left. “Well, there goes the tuna casserole I was going to make for dinner tomorrow, but what the heck. It will be my good deed for the day, although feeding a cat's not exactly up there with rescuing a lost child.”

“Saving an animal from starvation hits my top ten,” said Jamie.

And so another can of tuna fish went out on the porch. And come morning it was empty and there was no sign of the cat.

“It'll be back,” Jamie predicted. “It's found a sucker.”

“I think I'd better buy some cat food,” Emma decided.

“I think you'd better wear work gloves next time you feed the thing,” said Jamie. “Scratches won't exactly make a shining testimonial when we're launching our good deed campaign.”

“I'll be fine by then,” said Emma. “Gosh, I hope we get a good turnout.”

The ghost of her last failed event rose from where she'd buried it at the back of her mind and whispered,
Failure.

What a terrible thought.

Jamie shrugged. “If not, we can at least say we tried.”

Obviously, Jamie wasn't holding out much hope for the success of this campaign.

Maybe it had been a stupid idea, like so many of Emma's ideas. Things always played out in her head like a happy ending on the big screen. It was so frustrating that in real life those great endings tended to fizzle.

But not this time, Emma told herself firmly as she began the countdown to the big meeting. They were getting free publicity, thanks to the
Heart Lake Herald,
and she had other people on board, people like Sarah who was a pillar of the community. This was a great idea. Others would catch the vision.

She tried to talk up the meeting to her customers when they came in.

“I'll be with you in spirit,” her friend Kerrie promised. “But the in-laws are coming to town and we'll be in Seattle that night. We've got reservations at the Space Needle. Do you know how long it's been since I've been to the city, not to mention a nice restaurant? And I've actually never eaten at the Space Needle.”

“Say no more,” said Emma.

It seemed everyone had an excuse. Shirley Schultz thought she was coming down with something. Ruth Weisman had her book club meeting at her house that night. The teller at the bank had to take her beagle to dog obedience classes.

No one was coming.

“Well, I am,” her mother had promised when they talked on the phone. “And I'll bring Grandma.”

At least there'd be three of them. No, five. Sarah and Jamie would be present, too. Five people was better than no people, she told herself. But hardly.

“Don't worry,” Sarah said when Emma called her. “We'll have some bodies. Sam's coming, so the fire department will be represented, and I think Pastor Ed will be there. Everyone likes Pastor Ed, so if he gets on board this thing will really get off the ground.”

“That would be awesome,” said Emma. A vision of the Grange Hall packed with people sprouted in her mind. “If you build it, they will come,” she murmured. It would be her new mantra.

“Something like that,” said Sarah. “But if you're worried we can always make some flyers and pass them around.”

“Oh, great idea,” said Emma. Mantras were good. Flyers were better. “I'll print some out when I get home tonight.”

She did. With her pretty, red script and the red heart in the corner, the flyers looked like a graphic artist had designed them. “You've got the eye,” she told herself with a smile. She'd drop some off to Sarah and Jamie, and the day before the meeting she'd close the shop early and walk around the neighborhood and pass some out.

“These are great,” said Jamie. “I'll give out one with every purchase.”

“With all the customers you get, that should take care of your pile,” Emma said. “Me, I'm going to walk the streets.”

“Business is that bad?” Jamie teased.

Actually, it was. “Maybe someone will get inspired and decide to make me their good deed and come in and buy a truck-load of fabric.”

“Or you could put an ad up on Craigslist: ‘Sugar daddy wanted. Must love quilts.' ”

“Good idea. I'll post your picture,” Emma retorted as she sailed out the door.

Sarah was equally impressed by the flyers and promised to distribute a bunch to her neighbors and put some out on the counter at the bakery. “There's nothing like a personal invitation for getting people to attend something they'd otherwise be too lazy to come to,” she said.

 

Although the last thing Sarah wanted to do after being on her feet all day was to wander around her neighborhood passing out flyers. But she'd promised Emma. It won't take that long, she told herself.

Of course, she'd forgotten about Betty Bateman. “Oh, Sarah, I haven't seen you in ages. How have you been?” Betty was a vision in faded green sweats and pink bedroom slippers. She put a hand to her rumpled red hair in an unconscious attempt to comb it.

Sarah barely had time to answer before Betty started talking. “What is this, a meeting at the Grange? Oh, good deeds! I love the idea. But wouldn't you know, I have to babysit for the kids that night. Oh, speaking of, you've got to come in and see the latest pictures of the grandchildren.” She threw her front door open wide, urging Sarah into her overstuffed living room. “We just went to Ocean Shores last weekend with them. Little Beanie
is nine now. Can you believe that? And such a cutie. Now, what did I do with those pictures?” She scuffed over to a TV table set up in front of an easy chair, which was overflowing with envelopes and bills.

It could take Betty hours to search, not only the TV tray but the various piles of papers and magazines stacked on the coffee table, end tables, and kitchen counter. And if she ever found the pictures, it would take her hours to tell Sarah about each one. “Gosh, Betty, you know I'd love to see them,” Sarah lied, “but I've got a lot of houses to hit today. How about a rain check?”