A Lasting Proposal

The detecting kit was actually pretty cool, even though it was meant for little kids. It had a tape recorder that really worked, a flashlight and a camera small enough to fit in her palm. She checked all the batteries to make sure they hadn’t gone dead, then returned them to her pack.

She tossed the magnifying glass—it had nothing on a decent microscope—and opened the spiral-bound notebook to the first page. To begin, she jotted down the date—she’d seen her aunt Kelly do the same in the book she kept on her job. Then she started listing all the facts she knew about the night Jilly had been murdered.

Soon she had pages of information. When her mind was finally as empty as the drawers in the bureau where she’d been asked to unpack her clothes, she gave up.

“We have a lot of research to do, Stanley.”

She tucked the bear under her chin and rolled over onto her back. The ceiling was white. Just like at home. If she tried real hard, she could almost pretend…

No. The ceiling was the same, but the smells here were different. For starters, no one ever baked at her house. And the sounds—rather, the lack of them—were strange, too. No cars, or sirens, or rumbling old buses.

Close your eyes and pretend.

It was her favorite game. Pretend Daddy was still alive. That he’d been away on a long vacation and now he was back. He’d pull open her bedroom door and say, “How’s my little angel?” He always called her that, as if she was something wonderful, almost magical….

How’s my little angel? Kind of babyish for a twelve-year-old, maybe. But she hadn’t minded. Now no one would ever say those words to her again.

Holly could feel the sadness flowing. It always started this way. The aching would pour into all the empty spaces in her like water, until she was certain she would drown.

But she never did. All she did was cry. Sob and sob, until her head ached and she was tired enough to sleep.

She held up her bear so she could see his eyes. “Maybe you can cry with me sometimes, Stanley. You have a cute little face, but it’s sad, too.” She hugged him to her.

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Come back, Daddy.

MONDAY MORNING, AFTER Maureen had dropped Holly off at her new school, she went with Cathleen to see the town house for sale. The complex was in a cul de sac, backing onto Policeman’s Creek, a small branch of the Bow River.

“It’s nice here,” Maureen commented, turning in a full circle. Tall pines screened the development from the rest of town, and the sound of rushing water was audible from the street. The morning was sunny, and while the air was still cool, the day held the promise of the summer to come. The town homes were stained cedar, with generous windows, and each had its own driveway and attached garage, a welcome luxury in the long, cold winters.

Cathleen stood in front of the unit with the For Sale sign pounded into the small, square lawn. “Beth Gibson said she could get us inside later this afternoon. I suggested just after three-thirty so that Holly could come, too.”

“Perfect.” Maureen shoved her hands into the pockets of her fleece jacket. She’d slept better than she had in months in the down-duvet-covered bed at the B and B, and her sister and Dylan had done nothing but make her feel welcome. Still, she was used to her independence and longed to get set up in her own home as soon as possible. Plus, she wanted to free up the bedrooms of the B and B for the hordes of summer guests who would soon flock to the mountain town.

Three doors down, someone came out the front door. Maureen and Cathleen turned together, in time to catch Jake Hartman’s startled expression.

“Well, hello. Did you come to see me? If so, you went to the wrong number.” He had on a thick wool sweater and carried a leather portfolio in one hand. After locking his door, he strolled toward them.

“We were checking out this place that’s for sale,” Cathleen said. She flashed innocent round eyes to her sister. “Didn’t I mention that Jake lives in this complex, too?”

“What a coincidence. No, I don’t believe you did.” Maureen placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder and dug her nails in, even as she smiled at her new business partner. “I would’ve pictured you in an isolated rustic cabin up in the mountains.”

“You’ve just given a perfect description of the lodge at Grizzly Peaks. Because I sometimes spend weeks away from home, I need a place that doesn’t require much in the way of upkeep.”

Of course. She’d forgotten she was dealing with someone who played for a living. At least he deserved credit for recognizing his limitations. When she’d become pregnant, Rod had been eager for them to buy a house. But when it came time to mow the lawn or paint the fence, he’d never been around.

“I was just on my way to get new brochures printed,” Jake explained. “But if you’d like a quick tour of my place, I believe its floor plan mirrors the town house you’re interested in.”

“How nice of you to offer.” Cathleen sidestepped away from Maureen’s grip.

“Brochures?” Maureen asked. “Could I look them over?”

Jake’s pleasant expression stiffened slightly. “Sure. If you’d like.”

“Definitely. I have a good eye for graphics. I helped Cathleen with the promotional materials for her B and B. Didn’t I, sis?”

“I’ll show you the brochures after we go through the house,” Jake said. He led the two women up the walk and unlocked the front door.

Maureen wasn’t so sure she was still interested in the property for sale, now that she knew Jake would be her neighbor. Sneaky Cathleen, not mentioning a word… But there was no way to turn down his offer without sounding churlish.

All three of them removed their shoes in the foyer. Maureen noted the generous front closet, then followed Jake to the main sitting area. Of course there would have to be a gorgeous slate fireplace.

“Is this an upgrade?” she asked, running a hand down the rough, gray-speckled stones.

“No. All the units have them.”

Damn.

“Come see the kitchen.”

The cabinets were light maple, the countertops large blue tiles. Maureen traced the white grout with her index finger. “I guess this must be hard to keep clean.”

“Not really.” Jake smiled. “A little soapy water and a dishcloth do the trick. Want to have a look at the bedrooms?”

Just as Maureen had her foot on the first tread, she heard her sister say, “You two go ahead. I need to make a phone call, if that’s okay, Jake?”

“No problem,” Jake called back, already halfway up the stairs.

Gritting her teeth at her sister’s latest—obvious—maneuver, Maureen followed him. All the way she admonished herself not to notice the snug fit of his jeans, the narrow line of his hips and legs, the tiny red label that identified the make of his pants, the way the denim was fading at the stitching points of both pockets….

Good job not noticing, she congratulated herself at the landing. The hall was small, but the town house had three bedrooms, and the master was extremely generous.

“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess.” Jake gestured for her to enter his room first.

The king-size bed drew her glance. The comforter had been pulled up in an attempt at neatness, but the lumps and bumps suggested his pillows and sheets were not exactly where they were supposed to be. Maureen had a flash of two naked bodies, dim lights, soft music in the background….

Lord, what was she doing? Focus on the rest of the room, woman! Look at those clothes strewn on the floor. Doesn’t that remind you of Rod? You were always picking up after him….

“There’s a view of the creek,” Jake pointed out. “At night you can hear it.”

Maureen crossed to the window, unable to believe how perfect everything was. “The sound of the water must be very soothing….”

“Have trouble sleeping, too, do you?”

She ignored his all-too-accurate deduction and checked out the closet. It was spacious. Then the ensuite. Luxurious. Finally, when they reached the extra bedrooms, she identified a problem. “These rooms are way smaller than Holly’s back home. I don’t think she’d be very happy.”

Jake tapped the dividing wall. “You know, this isn’t weight-bearing. Dylan and I could probably tear it down for you and make one big room with two closets. What girl wouldn’t love that?”

“Holly’s not into clothes,” Maureen said, although it was beside the point. Chances were most town houses would have small secondary bedrooms. And Jake was right; combining the two rooms would be easy enough. To suggest he would help was generous of him, although of course she could never let him.