Happily Ever After (16 page)

Brian’s green eyes were icy. “Or you saved yourself.”

Mona and Liza stared in horror at Brian.

“W-what are you talking about?” Mona stammered.

Brian’s gaze on Joe never faltered. “It just seems you’ve had a number of so-called accidents around here since he showed
up.”

Mona went ashen. She looked at Joe, and written in her beautiful eyes he could see the signature of doubt. He shook his head,
dumbfounded, heartsick.

Tears glistened in Liza’s eyes. “That’s not true, is it, Joe? You’re not trying to wreck us, are you? I mean, flooding the
basement was an accident, right?”

Joe winced. He glared at Brian, who returned a frosty smile.

Mona addressed Brian. “I’m sure Joe had nothing to do with this.” Her voice was thin, however, and when she again met Joe’s
gaze, all the trust he’d so painstakingly built had eroded from her eyes.

Joe gave her a desperate look. “I didn’t do this.”

“Then why are you here, Michaels?” Brian narrowed his eyes at him. “Where do you go at night? Where do you spend your days
off?”

Joe heard the silence of a thousand accusations, and fear rushed alongside anger to suffocate him. The last thing he needed
was Brian Whitney getting wind of his brother. Mona would demand to meet him, and from there things would unravel faster than
a cheap sweater in the washer. He shook his head, refusing to answer.

Mona looked as if she’d been slapped. White-faced, horrified. He could see the mishaps mounting like evidence in her eyes.
If he could force words out past his clenching chest, maybe he’d be able scrape up something. He managed a feeble, “Mona,
listen—”

“Please get back to work.”

Her words stabbed his heart. “It’s not what you think.”

“And what do I think, Joe? Are you trying to destroy me?” Her eyes filled. She didn’t wait for an answer.“Forget it. Please,
just finish what I hired you to do.”

“And you’d better hope nothing else happens around here,” Brian added.

Joe ignored him. Gritting his teeth, he climbed back up the stool. In an instant, he’d gone from local hero to hired help.
No, he’d gone back to pond scum.

“Show me what you’re working on, Mona.” Brian’s sugary tone soured Joe’s resolve not to practice an old football move on the
liar. Joe focused on the ceiling, listening to Brian weave the ladies around his little finger. “You’ve done a miraculous
job on this bar and also those darling coffee tables!”

“Do you think you’ll be ready by opening day?”

Joe caught Mona’s nod and saw the sparkle of hope in her eye. “I think so. If we can avoid any more ‘accidents.’”

The conversation came to a crisp halt. Joe felt eyes on him. He forced himself to hum quietly.

“I came by to give you permission to build a side lot for parking, Mona. But I see my real job here is to persuade you to
let me treat you girls to dinner. I know a new steak place about twenty miles down the lakeshore drive. It’s not fancy, but
the fare is tasty.”

Joe could tell by the texture of Brian’s chuckle that the ladies had agreed.

“I’ll wait on the porch while you change.”

Footsteps filed past Joe.

The next five minutes seemed like an eternity as Joe fought the urge to plaster all the open spaces on Brian Whitney’s face,
especially the gap that caused him the most grief. He breathed out in relief after the girls clambered down the stairs and
the Honda roared away.

Joe sat on the stool and hung his head in his hands. Now Mona thought he was a saboteur. And who knew what fertilizing descriptions
Brian was adding to their fledgling suspicions? Maybe he should leave. It would be simpler—and safer—than having to explain
his presence in their town, and in their lives. And certainly easier than letting Mona inside his privacy, his past, his pain.

Joe opened his eyes. The truth. Which truth and how much? And he wasn’t trapped. He had nothing to tie him down. No home,
no responsibilities. He was the most free of them all.

If he didn’t count the fact that he had a debt hovering over his head . . . a debt he hadn’t figured out a way to pay. But
over the past few days he’d all but abandoned the idea of escape. Yes, he’d pay the price, but weren’t investing in Mona’s
dream and enjoying Gabe’s friendship worth it? Plotting his redemption would sacrifice precious hours with both of them, stir
up feelings of regret, even guilt. He was already going to leave the taste of deceit in his wake. That was painful enough.

But then again, he couldn’t very well redraw Gabe, could he? Maybe his hobo lifestyle was the best for everyone. And as long
as he kept his eyes peeled for trouble, no one would get hurt. Dreaming of a different life now was about as helpful as holding
out a sieve in a rainstorm.

Joe found the lid to the plaster bucket and pounded it into place. Carrying the bucket outside, he put it next to the other
construction items—paint, stain, varnish, and tools that he had piled near the side of the garage. Then he returned to the
dining room, rolled up the plastic, and folded the step stool. After setting it in the hall, Joe retrieved the broom from
the kitchen and began to sweep up the remnants of plaster that had fallen as he repaired the ceiling.

It would be much easier to rationalize the urge to ditch town if Mona didn’t have a saboteur lurking in the shadows. Was the
offender after Mona? Or did the so-called accidents have to do with the house? Was Liza the intended victim? Joe mulled over
the horrific possibilities as he swept plaster into a dustpan.

He dumped the debris into a trash can, then wandered to Liza’s side of the Victorian. Liza was certainly a breed apart from
Mona. She’d painted her walls sky blue, and instead of polishing the floor, she’d stenciled an elaborate seascape on it. Her
decorating finesse equaled Mona’s, however. She made good use of the resources at hand. She’d constructed a tall wall shelf
from five long, blue-painted boards and red bricks, and painted an old caned chair a creamy pumpkin color. The room felt like
Liza—carefree, airy, and cheerful, even if it was a bit whimsical.

Mona’s side had a more serious tone, yet the warm feeling of home and a pine forest drew him like a cozy fire. If only he
could get the proprietor to warm up and trust him again. But after Brian’s Oscar-winning performance, he’d be lucky to have
a roof to sleep under when they returned home. Joe continued to sweep in wide strokes, and as the image of Brian’s smile rankled
him, he slid the broom roughly under Liza’s shelf. A piece of paper floated into the air and settled in the dust. Joe picked
it up and turned it over. It was a boarding-pass stub, dated a week ago, for a Northwest flight to Chicago from Duluth. Frowning,
he stuck it in his pocket.

Joe swept the remaining dirt into the dustpan and flicked it into the garbage. Setting the broom aside, he strolled out onto
the porch. The salmon-colored sun hung low beneath wispy clouds. He inhaled the wet, fragrant scent of the lawn, and relief
drew through him. The acrid smell had been obliterated. He hummed as the image of Mona’s relief, accentuated by her beautiful
smile, swept through his mind. Yes, four hours standing barefoot in icy water had been a small price to pay for that smile.
He hoped it wasn’t too late to get back into her good graces.

Joe whistled. Rip bounded from the side of the house, appearing with an old rag hanging in his mouth. Joe met him at the bottom
of the steps and reached for the rag. Rip growled playfully but surrendered his toy.

“Where’d you get this, buddy?” Joe’s nose wrinkled against the dense odor of gas seeping from the stained rag.

Rip sat, his thick brown eyebrows wrinkling. Joe patted him on the head. “No more stalking other people’s garbage.” He wadded
the rag in his hand. “C’mon, boy.I’ll rustle us up some macaroni and cheese. That’ll beat steak any day.”

Joe tossed the rag in the trash pile beside the garage and climbed the stairs to his apartment, determined not to listen for
the purr of Brian’s slick Honda.

Mona saw his lips move and knew he was speaking, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t comprehend Brian Whitney’s
words. His voice simply couldn’t breach the scream of horror in her heart.

Liza’s laughter snapped Mona back to reality and informed her she had missed a quip from their host. She offered a smile,
but from Brian’s disappointed face, she knew he wasn’t fooled.

He considered her for a moment with an enigmatic expression. It soon melted into pity. “Now, Mona, don’t worry. I’m sure everything
will turn out all right.” He cupped his hand over hers. It was oddly sweaty and added to her unease.

“Thanks, Brian,” she said, pulling away her hand. She grabbed her napkin and dabbed it at the corners of her mouth, then tucked
it beside her plate. There was no point in trying to finish the medium-rare steak, waffle fries, and spinach salad. It might
have been the best meal she’d eaten all year, but it still turned to coal the minute it hit her tightening stomach. The urge
to run back to the Footstep, not only to assure herself it still stood but also to confront the man who said he wasn’t leaving
her with that mess, was swelling to unruly proportions.

Or maybe, instead of running back to the Footstep, it would behoove her to run to the Deep Haven police station. She wondered
what she’d have to do to get the local law to poke around in Joe’s history . . . if Joe was even his real name. Tears pricked
her eyes.

She leaned toward Liza, who was absorbed in Brian’s witty assessment of the local politics, and whispered, “Can we go?”

Liza angled her a frown. Mona must have looked pitiful, because Liza suddenly smiled gently. “I think we’re ready to head
home, Brian,” Liza said sweetly, touching his arm.

Brian sat back in his chair, frowning. “Are you sure?”

Mona nodded stiffly. Brian was visibly disappointed.Guilt stabbed at Mona. He’d been so kind to them this evening, trying
to distract her from the nightmarish truth that her handyman was trying to ruin her. She gave him a grateful smile. “Brian,
thank you so much for this wonderful evening. We really appreciate your kindness.”

Brian perked up. “My pleasure. Anything for my new neighbors. I just hope you stick around for a good long time.”

Mona stood, gathering her purse. “That’s my goal. Unless the Footstep crumbles around me, I plan on staying.”

She couldn’t help but notice the odd expression that crossed Brian’s face at her bold words.

Joe’s truck sat out front, but no light glowed from the round attic window over the garage. Mona didn’t know whether to be
relieved or terrified, but she couldn’t escape the sense that the Footstep appeared gloomy and almost menacing in the gray
tones of early evening. Brian helped Mona pry herself from his backseat while Liza lounged in the front bucket seat. She didn’t
seem to be budging.

“Thanks for a nice dinner, Brian.” Mona eyed Liza suspiciously as Brian leaned on his car door.

“Anytime, Mona. I want to help you feel comfortable in Deep Haven.”

Tears edged Mona’s eyes. To think she’d thought ill of this man only two weeks earlier. She felt properly chastised. “Thanks,
Brian,” she repeated hoarsely. Glancing past him, she waved at Liza, who beamed back. Obviously Brian was doing all he could
to make her feel as comfortable in Deep Haven as well.

Mona turned and studied the dark house, feeling her throat burn. Brian’s car door slammed; then the Honda roared away from
the curb, driving at NASCAR speed. Evidently, Brian wasn’t wasting any of the lingering twilight he had with Liza.

The front door squealed, raising gooseflesh as she entered the dark corridor. What if Joe or some other saboteur was lurking
in the shadows, just waiting to put the finishing touches on his handiwork? Mona shoved the thought away and fumbled for the
hall light. The sudden brightness drove the shadows into oblivion, and Mona laughed nervously at her silly fears. Still, tension
hovered as she crept through the house.

She flicked on the dining-room light and stared at the creamy white ceiling Joe had plastered. Tears pushed at her eyes again
and this time slipped over the edge. She didn’t know what to think about her faithful handyman. Was he a saboteur or a savior?
Should she fire him or beg him for forgiveness? The look on his face when she’d ordered him back to work replayed vividly
in her mind. Disbelief and not just a little hurt. She’d shamed him by putting him in a place he didn’t deserve. He was a
handy man, but he’d done so much more than simply plug up geysers and dark holes around her house. He’d believed in her dream;
he’d promised to stick beside her. He’d dove into a rapids to save her. That didn’t sound like the average convict. It sounded
more like a gift from heaven.

Yet Brian was right. Problems did surface when Joe was around. The paradox tightened her jaw. Despite Joe’s embracing smile
and entrancing eyes, she’d have to hawk his every move. Or fire him.

But she had only three weeks left until opening day. She needed help. She needed Joe. If she wanted to see her dream come
true, she’d have to trust that he was more than what he appeared at the moment. And she’d have to trust God to protect her
from mishap.

Mona wiped the tears from her stained cheeks and jutted her chin. A blaze of determination ignited inside her. She would stay.
There was no other choice. She’d invested her life into the bookstore. She couldn’t consider failure. No, regardless of what
Joe or an unknown saboteur did to her, she wasn’t going to leave her Footstep of Heaven.

Mona headed to her room. Her bedside lamp pushed back the twilight, illuminating her stack of Jonah books and her leather
Bible on the very bottom. How long had it been since she preferred time with God to moments with Jonah?

She returned to the table, pushed aside the books, and tugged out her Bible. She ran her hand over the cover and felt her
eyes burn. She’d been hoping for God’s blessings, but had she truly enjoyed knowing Him? She’d been so focused on her goals
for so long, the whisper of God in her heart seemed but an ancient echo.

As Mona flipped through the thin pages, her gaze fell on a verse in Psalm 37: “Take delight in the Lord, and He will give
you your heart’s desires.”

Determined to conquer fear, Mona flicked off the hall light on the way to the kitchen. She deftly assembled the coffee in
the pot, then leaned against the counter, reading to the dim blue light from the gas burner. Although she owned a coffeemaker,
she preferred the enticing nip of freshly perked coffee to calm her ragged nerves.

Jonah’s story ate the time, and only a heady coffee aroma successfully yanked her from a tiny village in northern Siberia.
She could almost feel the arctic wind swirl in and curl around her bare feet.

Pouring herself a cup, she tucked the book under her arm and balanced a leftover donut on the rim of the mug. Then she padded
up the stairs, ready for an evening of peace. She would tackle Joe and her problems with renewed vigor in the morning.

The iron grip held her until her body turned to lead and her mind drowned in darkness.