Taking on Twins (17 page)

Alex knew he wasn't supposed to say the word stupid, but obviously felt this situation called for strong language.

Not to be outdone, Noah tossed out another forbidden term. “He'd be an idiot, Mom.”

“Boys…” She raised a censorious brow.

Wyatt patted his chest. “My treat.”

“It's not the money, Wyatt.”

“Then what?”

“I just don't know about…”

“About what?”

“You know. Meredith.”

“Who's Meredith?”

“Meredith is my mom,” Wyatt explained to Noah and then glanced back at Annie. “Well, considering her henchman is here in Keyhole, we'd probably be safer in Prosperino. Besides, there will be a ton of kids there. And a ton of security.”

“What about Emily?”

“Your mom and sister and Roy and Geraldine and Helen and Toby and the entire Keyhole police force will all be looking out for her.”

“But what about the store?”

“Ask Brynn or MaryPat to sub for you on Saturday. If they can't, close it.”

“But what about Chopper?”

At the sound of his name, Chopper's tail thumped on the floor.

“He stays here. In a kennel. Also, my treat.”

“But—”

“C'mon, Annie, quit grasping for excuses. When was the last time you got out of town and had some fun? When was the last time you took the boys anywhere?” He could sense that she was weakening. “You know it's already warm there. Last weekend the temperature hit the high seventies. We could take the boys to see the ocean.”

“The ocean?” Noah bobbed excitedly.

“We never been to the ocean,” Alex told him.

Wyatt thrust out his lower lip. “Annie, they've never been to the ocean.”

“Yeah, Mom.”

She sighed, opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it. “Everyone would be really happy to see you again.” Wyatt played his trump card. “And it would really mean a lot to me and the boys if you would say yes.”

The boys turned in his arms and the three of them looked up at her with pleading eyes.

“O
h, all right.” Annie moved to her desk and dropped into her seat. “I know when I've been outvoted.”

The boys gaped at her for a moment before the facts registered.

“We get to go?”

Annie nodded.

The celebration was deafening. The boys jumped and shouted and hugged Wyatt, and then their mom, and then each other.

“I'm gonna go pack!” Alex ran to the play area and began to gather an armload of toys. Noah joined him and soon they had enough stuff to fill all of the luggage their mother owned.

Annie couldn't help but smile. Wyatt was right. She hadn't taken time to go on a vacation in far too long. In fact, the only place she'd ever taken them was on a car trip
to visit Judith and her family in Iowa for Christmas when they were three. She doubted they even remembered.

A tiny thrill began to burn in her belly and spread up her spine, sending gooseflesh in all directions. She was going back to Prosperino with Wyatt. She hadn't been there since before her father died. The idea of walking barefoot along the surf with Wyatt and watching her children frolic in the waves of the Pacific Ocean was a dream come true. A dream that she hadn't dared, until this very minute, to admit that she'd even harbored.

The boys' wild excitement was contagious.

Annie looked up into Wyatt's broad smile and began to tingle with excitement all over again. “How are we going to get plane tickets at this late date?”

“I'll call my travel agent in the morning. If you can't get on my flight, we'll take another route or something. Don't worry, it'll all work out.” He took her hand and drew her to stand against his body, then locked her there with his arms. “Before we can go there's something you have to do for me.”

“What?”

“I need you to add five hundred dollars to my earnings today.”

Annie reared back and stared up at him. “Five hundred dollars? Why?”

“Because I'm buying the painting you did of that basket of grapes.” He gestured to a lovely sepia tone and dark eggplant-colored painting Annie had done years ago, to remind her of her life in Prosperino. And of Wyatt.

“You're buying that picture? Why?”

“Liza and Nick need something very special to commemorate the beginning of their marriage and this painting is just the thing. It's part Prosperino and part Wyoming, and part you.”

Annie could see the tears rise in her eyes, sparkling, refracting light. Feeling foolish, she blinked them away. Wyatt never ceased to amaze her with his thoughtful ways. Arms circled securely around his waist, she stood on tiptoe and he lowered his mouth to hers in a tender, gentle kiss that had her suddenly weak in the knees.

Then and there, she made up her mind to worry about the future later. For now, she—like her excitedly thrashing sons were doing at the moment—was going to enjoy whatever came her way and deal with separation anxiety when it eventually happened.

And it would happen.

She could see no happy way around that.

 

Bracelets jangling, Patsy tippity-tapped away on her laptop computer. Her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth as she pursed her ruby lips in concentration. Occasionally she stopped to sip on her latte and listen to the hum of activity beyond her bedroom door.

Dullsville, baby. Yet another wretchedly tedious pre-wedding party to endure. All those trying conversations with the banal Colton family. All those phony sentiments, all those tiring smiles. She got exhausted just thinking about it. Didn't these people have anything better to do with their time than gush on about forever and happy-ever-after, and loving, honoring, obeying, worshiping each other? It was sickening.

Downstairs, in the elegant courtyard, the preparations were in full swing for Saturday's wedding. Florists bustled about, delicious smells wafted from the kitchen, and trucks arrived by the dozens with tables and chairs and linens and large white lawn tents.

Knowing that she was neither wanted nor needed, which was more than fine with her, Patsy decided the time was
right to do a little office work. To get the proverbial ball rolling on Jackson's murder rap. Ahh. The thought of Jackson laboring over license plates in the state pen spurred her to heretofore unrealized cerebral heights and as she typed, she was summarily impressed with her own brilliance.

Patsy reread her missive several times before deciding it was deliciously perfect. After the cops checked out this lead, they'd have to turn a suspicious eye to Jackson. Poor baby. Never should have messed with Auntie Meredith. She tapped the print button on her computer, and as she sat back to wait, the cell phone rang.

She snatched it up and jerked an earring off her ear. “What now?”

It was clear from the background noises that Snake Eyes had been biding his time in a bar.

“I'm just callin' to tell ya that I didn't do it yet. She got more people watchin' her than a circus act. She moved in with some ugly old goat, and the cops are crawlin' around there like termites, I tell ya.”

Patsy rolled her eyes. “Silas, Silas, Silas.” She took pleasure in using the name she knew he hated. Leaning back in her chair, she studied her flawless manicure and
toyed with him. “You were supposed to have been done with this job by now. Isn't that what we agreed upon when I sent you more money?”

Snake Eyes was silent for so long, Patsy feared he may have dropped off to sleep.

“Silas!” she shouted.

“Yes,” he growled back.

“Okay then. When do you plan on doing your job?”

“Her brother's been stickin' to her like glue.”

“Her brother?” Patsy froze. She'd thought everyone was here for the wedding. What brother? She racked her brain. There were a jillion damned Colton foster kids running around the countryside and they were multiplying like rabbits.

“What's his name?”

“Wally or Whippet, or something.”

“Wyatt?” She tried to swallow, but couldn't. That's right. Wyatt had left a few days ago on some kind of a secretive business trip. Now, she knew the “business” had been in Keyhole, with Emily. Her heart stopped beating for an alarming moment.

Could this mean that Wyatt was onto her?

Her mind raced. How would he have known that Emily was holed up in Keyhole? Unless… Her blood ran cold. Had someone overheard one of her phone conversations with Snake Eyes? Had Emily kept in contact with the family, unbeknownst to her? Had she, Patsy, somehow messed up and left a clue behind?

Tiny beads of sweat formed on her upper lip and she felt simultaneously hot and cold and quite suddenly nauseated. How many people suspected that she might be behind Emily's murder attempt? Or Joe's, for that matter?

Patsy fumbled for her cigarettes and, after breaking a
record number of matches, finally got one lit and took a deep calming drag. She had to stay cool.

She'd always been the cool one. She could be cool now.

Cool, cool, cool.

She carried the phone with her over to her private liquor stash. Using silver tongs, she loaded a crystal tumbler with ice and splashed in a generous amount of vodka. She held the glass first to her molten cheeks, then, to her lips. The fiery liquid burned a wicked trail down her throat and set her empty stomach aflame. As she listened to Snake Eyes blather on incoherently, her brain began to fuzz, and some of her jangled nerves began to gel once again.

She cradled the rim of her glass against her lower lip.

No, no, no.

She was fine. Once she set the wheels in motion, nobody would be able to pin this whole mess on her. But she'd have to hurry. She'd mail the message she'd just typed to Thad-odious Law this very afternoon. That, coupled with the other plans she had for Jackson… Well, it wouldn't matter that Silas A. Pike was a blithering idiot. She would be in the clear, and Emily would be dead. Maybe Joe, too.

The burning sensation in her stomach settled down to a teensy pile of glowing embers. Umm, yeah. She'd be okay. If she just kept her wits about her. She was always okay, as long as she stayed steely calm.

She tapped her ash into a heavy crystal ashtray. “So Wyatt has been visiting with our Emily.”

“Yeah. Anyway, he's leavin' for some weddin' tomorrow and he's taking his friends with him, so I'll take care of business then.”

“Wyatt is coming back here to Prosperino, and bringing friends?”

“Uh-g huh.” He snorted and spat. “Should be there by now. And the brat will be stayin' behind with that old
broad, but that should be no problem-o. If the old lady gets in the way, I'll just get ridda her, too.”

“Ah, lucky me. A two-for-one sale. Listen, you dolt, just do the job we agreed upon. I don't pay by the pound!” Molars grinding, Patsy plunged a hand through her hair. “At this rate, just taking care of the one problem should take the rest of your life.”

“Saturday night. It'll all be over by tomorrow night.”

“It had better be. If you ever want to see the rest of your paycheck.”

“Hey. Speakin' of my paycheck—”

“No! Not another cent until the girl is history.” She slapped her phone off and marched back to her computer.

After she slipped on a pair of latex gloves, she folded the letter and stuffed it into an envelope. She used her left hand to scrawl the address to Thad Law's office. Then she affixed a stamp and slipped the letter into her purse.

Now off to town to post this little gem.

This was the beginning of the arrogant Jackson Colton's demise. A tiny smile clung to the edges of her mouth.

Only the beginning.

 

Early that Friday afternoon, Wyatt and Annie and the boys landed in San Francisco. They rented a car and took the scenic route up the coast and over to Prosperino. On the way, of course, they had to stop and buy kites, run on the surf, dig deep, pointless holes in the beach, search for seashells, and eat blackened hot dogs and marshmallows with a healthy dash of sand sprinkled in.

Smelling like campfire smoke and covered from head to toe with sand and ocean water and heaven only knew what, they loaded their impromptu picnic back into the trunk of the car and enjoyed the back roads that wound through the
beautiful California wine country to the Hacienda de Alegria.

The day was warm and cloudless and, while the boys slept in the backseat, Annie got a chance to spend uninterrupted time talking with Wyatt.

“I'm nervous.” She smoothed the wisps that escaped from her thickly corded French braid.

“Why?”

“What if it's supposed to be a private, intimate, family-only gathering?”

“So?”

Annie huffed. “You don't understand.”

“I do more than you think. But, Annie, if I love you, they'll love you.”

She stilled at his use of the word
love.
He couldn't mean that he
loved
her, loved her. He probably only loved her euphemistically speaking. In the loosest, most old-girlfriend sense of the word. Certainly not the undying variety of love she'd harbored for him all these years.

As if sensing her anxiety, he took her hand in his and pulled her to sit next to him in the seat. Just like the old days.

Slowly, her eyes traveled to his and they held for an intense moment before he had to turn back to the road.

Her heart turned over. He was such a wonderful man. How had she ever had the strength to go on without him and marry Carl? She'd been a different person back then. So young. Headstrong. Like Brynn. Life had been so black and white. Now life wasn't so simple. There were infinitesimal shades of gray everywhere. In everything. Nothing was clear to her anymore.

Except the unfortunate fact that she still loved Wyatt. Maybe more than ever. He was older, wiser, more mature.
A real man. Someone she could count on. The way she used to count on her father.

As the car traversed the miles, her mind traveled back to her own wedding day. When she'd married Carl, she'd been dead inside, with the exception of the place in her heart that still bled for Wyatt. But Carl hadn't seemed to notice. Since grade school he'd been eager to claim Annie for his own, and their eventual marriage had seemed inevitable to everyone in Keyhole, except Annie.

For Annie, it signified a way to forget about Wyatt.

She figured if she stuffed her feelings way down inside, perhaps she could forget about Wyatt, and maybe, in the process, fall in love with her husband. Unfortunately, Carl's myriad problems—many of which had not become evident until after the wedding—had made it easy to withdraw even further. So, forcing herself not to feel was the only way she'd been able to survive until the boys' birth had coaxed her to life once more.

Knowing that she'd been staring at Wyatt's face for a long while, Annie turned her focus to the road and worried her lower lip with her teeth.

When he went back to his life in Washington, D.C. again, how would she cope with this new emptiness she was sure to feel in her heart? It had been easy to retreat inside herself back when she was responsible for only herself. But now she had two little boys who wouldn't let her die to the pain. She couldn't even bear to think about their pain at Wyatt's departure. Surely their anguish would only compound hers.

Like a divining rod to water, her gaze steered back to Wyatt. She studied the sensitive curve of Wyatt's mouth, the smile lines at his eyes, the dent that she'd kissed so many times as a girl, the muscle that would sometimes
work in his jaw when he was worried. Or feeling possessive.