Chapter 16: Disappointment
The drugstore did contain a miracle- a miracle, not in the form of imported cookies, but in that of two very elusive human beings. Nancy rounded an aisle and came face-to-face with Diarmid Connolly himself. She would have come face-to-face with him, anyway, had he been paying attention. But he was wholly engrossed in staring at a shelf of cold remedies and sniffing loudly every few seconds. Nancy hastily retreated to the adjoining aisle to contemplate her next move. Should she confront him? Stay out of sight? Either way, she should alert Joe. She could send a text while she made up her mind.
The bell above the shop door jangled and suddenly Allie was there, too, approaching her boyfriend with her usual languid hip-swaying gait. Her phone forgotten in her hand, Nancy peered at them through a gap between boxes of hair dye and bottles of shampoo.
"Not that one. It'll make you drowsy." Allie grabbed a box out of Diarmid's hand and stuck it back on the shelf.
"What's the big deal? I can sleep on the plane," Diarmid grumbled, following up his words with an exceptionally repugnant sniff.
"And deprive me of the pleasure of your company?" Allie sneered. She selected another box and held it up. "This one should work."
"That kind tastes like shit," Diarmid said, refusing to take it from her.
"We don't have time to be choosy, princess."
"I want a different kind."
Allie turned away to continue browsing. Nancy's skin was crawling. What she was seeing now was so different from the vacant persona Allie had used with her and Joe.
It was an act, Nancy realized. And she really fooled us.
In the background, the bell chimed again, but Nancy paid no attention to it; so a few seconds later, when Joe came up beside her, he had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep her from yelping in surprise.
"I'm not even going to ask how you got here before me," he said in a low tone. "What's the situation?"
"How did you know they were here?"
"I've been on their trail all morning. You?"
Nancy shook her head. "Coincidence. I was about to text you." She directed his attention toward the couple, who were arguing again about the first brand of medication Diarmid had picked.
"They mentioned a flight. Sounds like they're going somewhere later today," Nancy murmured.
"Leaving town? That's not suspicious at all." Joe peered intently through the shelves for a moment. Then he straightened up.
"I'm going to talk to them."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Let's stir the pot a little." He strode off, eyes gleaming with mischief. Nancy turned back to her vantage point and watched him enter the scene. He walked up casually, thumbs hooked in his front pockets, a wide, relaxed smile on his face.
"Well, well. If it isn't my favorite murder suspects!" he said happily. Diarmid jerked as though he had been stung by a bee; but his reaction was not nearly as interesting as Allie's. Because Nancy knew where to look, now, she clearly saw Allie's face go blank. A heartbeat later the woman's shrewd, capable manner had been replaced by a vacuous expression and flirtatious body language.
"Hi, handsome," she said, angling herself and her generous cleavage toward Joe.
Diarmid sneezed. "Shove off, asshole."
"You don't sound so good, man," Joe said breezily.
"That's not what your mom said last night," Diarmid said crudely.
Joe lifted one eyebrow, unfazed. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I'd been transported back to middle school."
"Diarmid, don't," Allie whined, twirling a lock of her hair, and Diarmid closed his mouth on whatever fresh insult he was about to volley at Joe. He contented himself with cracking his knuckles and glaring. Joe did not pay any attention to this.
"What rock have you guys been hiding under? We've been trying to contact you."
"It's not my fault you're bad at your job," Diarmid jeered.
"Baby, go pay for this," Allie said, handing him a box of the medicine he didn't like. He hesitated.
"I'll be right there. Get me a new pack of gum, too," Allie urged.
"I'll be right back. Don't talk to this asshole." With one final glare in Joe's direction, he left.
Allie smiled a very self-satisfied smile, like a cat who has killed the mouse it has been toying with all afternoon. She glided closer to Joe and rested a hand on his arm, her red-painted fingernails gleaming aganst the dark material of his coat.
"I wish I'd known you wanted to talk," she said, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "I'm always available, for you. How can I help you?" She somehow managed to make those few words sound unspeakably dirty. In her hiding place, Nancy's nails bit into her palms. She had never wanted so badly to hit someone.
"I have contacts at the airport," Joe lied. "I know all about your little trip. It doesn't look good for you, leaving town so soon."
Allie's eyes were full of innocence. "Faith told us they caught Brendan's killer," she said. "We're so exhausted from the whole thing, I begged Diarmid to take me on vacation. We're spending Thanksgiving week at the most romantic little cabin..." She looked Joe up and down and licked her lips slowly. "You could always join us. Diarmid likes to watch me with other guys. And I know a few tricks that would make you forget he's even in the room."
Joe broke away from her unwanted touch, brushing his sleeve as though she had dirtied it. "I'll pass," he told her.
"You won't even give me a chance?" Allie pouted.
"Oh, cut the crap," Joe told her. "I know this whole thing is an act. Even if it were genuine, I'm not attracted to you. I have this weird thing where I just don't want to be with criminals."
"What are you talking about?" Allie asked.
"I saw Diarmid's hands. I know what he did."
A jolt of adrenaline rushed through Nancy. Diarmid's hands! Diarmid was my attacker?
"You don't know anything." Allie's mask was slipping now. She was doing her best to look nonchalant, but her eyes gave her away: cold and full of anger. "You don't have any proof. Nothing."
The grin Joe flashed at her was just as coldly frightening as her dagger glare. "Don't worry your pretty little head. We'll get some."
"Good luck." Allie stepped in very close to him suddenly, grabbing his wrist to hold him in place. She put her face very close to his. "And just so you know, I really would have slept with you, and I would have been the best you ever had. We could have made a great team." She brushed her lips against his, making her offer one final time. Joe twisted away from her, eyes blazing.
"Your loss!" Allie snapped.
"I think I can live with that!" Joe snapped back.
Allie's only answer was a crude gesture. She strode away, pausing at the end of the aisle to grit out a final warning. "I have a guy keeping tabs on your girlfriend's house. If I even think I've caught sight of you again today all I have to do is make one call, and Ms. Detective won't be so pretty anymore." And then she was gone.
As soon as she was sure she wouldn't be spotted, Nancy caught up with Joe. "Nice bluff," she commented. "Hope her guy watching my house isn't too bored."
Joe was not in the mood to joke. He was moving fast, anger practically humming off his body like electricity. "They did it," he told her. "I saw bruises on that bastard's hands. He's the one who hurt you."
"I concur. You smell like Allie's perfume, and it matches what I remember from Thursday."
They were outside now and still moving fast. Across the parking lot, Diarmid and Allie were getting into a car.
"Come on," Joe said, flinging his truck door open for Nancy. He paused to close it for her, but she waved him away.
"No time for manners. Drive."
Joe leapt into the driver's seat and pulled out into traffic. Diarmid's car was just a block or two ahead but gaining fast.
"He even drives like a douche," Joe growled, speeding up to make it through a yellow light.
Keeping the suspects' vehicle in sight while remaining undetected was always hardest in town. When Diarmid merged onto the highway both detectives breathed a sigh of relief. Joe fell into position several cars behind Diarmid and relaxed a little.
"They're headed for the airport," Nancy said, voicing their growing suspicion.
"Yeah."
"We can't stop them from getting on the plane."
"We have to do something."
"What can we do? We have no way of planting anything in their luggage to get them detained. We can't follow them into the airport without causing a scene. And we have to grounds to arrest them aside from a few bruises and our instincts. I hate to say this, Joe, but Allie was right. We have no evidence."
"Dammit, Nan, that guy tried to kill you!"
"We'll get him. We just need more time."
"I don't want to arrest him. I want to give him a nice massage with a baseball bat."
"Joe."
He sighed. "Let's at least verify that they're both getting on that plane. Then I'll take you back to your car and we can plan out where to go from here."
Ahead of them, Diarmid's car peeled off down the airport exit. Joe followed suit. Under the detectives' watchful eyes, Diarmid parked in the long-term parking lot and manhandled two suitcases out of the back seat. He and Allie both headed for the departures terminal. Their fears confirmed, Nancy and Joe left. They drove back to Nancy's car in silence broken only by the radio.
"So much for our trap," Joe muttered as he pulled up beside Nancy's roadster in the pharmacy parking lot.
Nancy looked at him. "Let's make the post anyway. It's worth the gamble."
"Nan, they're gone."
"She came here after the inheritance once. She could be lured back." Nancy reached over and squeezed his hand. "We'll get them, Joe. We always do."
"Thanks, Nan. Maybe you're right." He still looked pretty disgusted with himself.
Nancy opened her door. "See you back at the apartment?"
"Yeah. Drive safe, Nan."
"Same to you."
Nancy's phone rang before she had driven more than a few miles. She answered, putting the call on speaker.
"Bess! Isn't it still really early there?"
"I couldn't get back to sleep. First I had to pee, then I got distracted by the sunrise. I've been sitting out on our balcony, watching the sun rise over the ocean while drinking orange juice freshly squeezed by my incredibly hot husband. And I am telling you all of that mainly to make you feel cold and jealous, because you woke me up and I'm petty like that."
"I'm really sorry," Nancy said. "But that sounds incredible. You should be thanking me for giving you an extra few hours of quality time with Tom."
"Listen, cherie, last time I spent an extra few hours of quality time with Tom I ended up pregnant," Bess said flippantly. Nancy could hear Tom laughing in the background.
"Seriously, though, it's okay," Bess assured her. "I'll just take an extra nap later."
"Okay, that does make me feel a little jealous. It's not even noon here, and I'm exhausted."
"You're probably anemic, babe. Make Joe buy you a really nice steak."
"We'll see," Nancy said noncommittally. She would never issue orders to Joe the way Bess did to Tom. It was true that Bess and Tom seemed to thrive on that dynamic, and it was never carried to an unhealthy degree; but Nancy was not like Bess, was not the kind of girl who owned her sensuality and expected men to drop everything to respond to it. Nancy liked that her relationship with Joe was a partnership.
"So, what's up?" Bess asked.
"I just wanted to talk to you about the Connolly case," Nancy said. "Have you noticed anything else interesting since that package came?"
"No more interesting mail," Bess said. "The big news around here is that the owners' daughter is coming home for Thanksgiving. They're super excited."
"Is her name Allie?" Nancy asked.
"How did you know that?"
"Bess, she's our top suspect right now. We just tailed her to the airport half an hour ago."
"Shit," Bess said. She sounded a little stunned. "Okay. Well, we're here. If you need us to do anything, Nan...anything within reason...just ask."
"I'm not going to ask you to do anything dangerous," Nancy said. Her mind was spinning, a nebulous idea forming. "I'm going to email you a link in a bit. We're going to make a fake news article about an art find in River Heights. Do you think you can manage to gossip about it, a lot?"
"That, I can do," Bess said with satisfaction.
"You're the best," Nancy told her friend.
"To tell you the truth, a vacation without a mystery was starting to feel a little bland. You ruined me, Nancy Drew," Bess teased.
Joe was sitting on the kitchen counter, shirtless and eating a slice of cold pizza, when Nancy finally arrived. Without stopping to take off her coat or shoes she went to him and gently tugged his face down for a kiss. He slid down to the floor and wrapped his arms around her, letting his touch steady her while she reclaimed his lips.
"Yours, Nan," he murmured.
"I wanted to hit her," Nancy confessed, kissing him again.
"Put yourself in my shoes. I wanted to dip my face in bleach," Joe teased, trying to make her smile. It worked. Nancy released him and backtracked to the front door to take off her shoes.
"Took you long enough to get here," Joe called, hopping back up to his favorite place on the counter and picking up his pizza.
"Bess called," Nancy told him, shrugging off her coat with careful movements. "I should have pulled over, but I was too impatient, so I just drove really carefully and kept an eye out for police cars."
"Good. The last thing you need is to get pulled over by Frank again," Joe said. He seemed to be in a better mood than he had been when he dropped her off. When Nancy returned to the kitchen he flipped the box open, offering her a slice.
"There's plenty here. We ordered an extra pizza last night."
"Thanks." Nancy leaned against the counter beside him and took a bite. "How's the bike coming along?" she asked idly.
"Stubborn as hell but gorgeous. Like you," Joe said, smiling down at her.
"A lot of girlfriends wouldn't like being compared to a motorcycle," Nancy told him. "It tends to make a girl feel jealous in really peculiar ways."
Joe winked at her. "I'm sorry, Nan. I promise tonight I'll clean out your carburetor."
"Would it be weird if I said that turned me on a little?" Nancy asked, laughing.
"I'd be disappointed if it didn't." Joe looked smug.
"You're such a peacock," Nancy said affectionately. "Come on. I want to sit down for a bit."
"As you wish, milady," Joe said, jumping down off the counter and bowing sweepingly to her. When he straightened he snagged the pizza box and brought it along to the living room.
"Frank isn't going to like this," Nancy said, stopping to survey the clutter. Joe's hat and coat were draped over the chair, his shirt was crumpled on the floor in the general direction of his bedroom, and case paperwork was spread out over the coffee table.
"I'm going to clean it up," Joe said, shrugging. He dropped into his usual seat and Nancy curled up beside him, leaning her head on his Beowulf tattoo to listen to his heartbeat.
"I'm thinking of getting another one," Joe said, his voice rumbling in her ear.
"Another motorcycle?"
"No, another tattoo."
Nancy sat up and looked at him, her eyes skimming from the Old English on his chest to the engine schematic and the old-fashioned compass rose on his arm. "What do you want to get? And where?"
"Pink unicorn tramp stamp?" he said, trying to keep a straight face.
"Very sexy," Nancy said drily.
"I'm still thinking it over. I don't know, though. Dad and Frank already hate the ones I have."
"They don't have to look at them." Nancy reconsidered. "Well, they wouldn't have to see them if you would put on a shirt once in a while."
"Gotta let the skin breathe," Joe said. "Why don't you try taking yours off a little more?"
"I don't have any artwork to display," Nancy told him.
"You don't need any. You're perfect. You are the artwork." He leaned over and kissed her.
"You're just trying to get in my carburetor," Nancy murmured.
"That's a job I don't mind getting my hands dirty for," Joe murmured back.
They kissed again, lingering a little. When they broke apart Nancy sighed happily. "You don't smell like her perfume anymore."
"Why do you think I ditched the shirt?"
"You always ditch your shirt."
"True." His lips were still tantalizingly close to hers. He brushed them along her jawline and nibbled lightly at her earlobe, making her gasp.
"Joe."
"What?" He pulled back to look at her. His eyes were dark, filled with desire and something darker. Need, perhaps.
"Nothing," Nancy said, abandoning herself to his kisses once more. But after a few minutes Joe pulled away.
"That post. We need to get it up, now."
Nancy sighed carefully, so as not to send a twinge through her bruised rib. "Okay."
He smoothed her hair, a gesture both tender and apologetic. "I'm sorry, Nan. If we'd kept going another minute I wouldn't have been able to stop."
"Who says you have to stop?"
"Nurse Janet," Joe told her.
Nancy sighed again, less carefully this time. "Okay." She reached for Joe's laptop. "Let's get some work done, then. How do you think 'Kate' wants to break the news?"
Joe jumped up, suddenly. "Callie started painting last night. Come see it before we start."
"Please don't think I'm unappreciative of her work, but not now," Nancy said, typing away. After a few minutes, she looked up. "I talked to Bess on the way over."
"Yeah, you mentioned that."
"Her bed and breakfast owners are Allie's parents."
Joe whistled. "And you think Allie is heading home?"
"Bess says she is." Nancy handed him the computer. "You're better at this stuff than I am. We need to make a fake news article about the second treasure for Bess to gossip about."
"So Allie will be sure to hear about our bait, even if she doesn't check the forum. Nancy Drew, you're a genius." Joe sat again, kissed her, and started typing. "You get the forum post up?"
"It's done," Nancy confirmed, still smiling broadly from his compliment. She let him work for awhile while she half-dozed beside him, her head on his shoulder.
"Right here," she murmured finally, stroking his bicep.
"Right there what?" Joe asked distractedly, correcting a spelling mistake in the fake article's headline.
"Your new tattoo."
"Okay," he said, kissing her forehead. "Did you dream up a design for it, too?"
"I wasn't sleeping!"
"Uh-huh. Okay. You were wide awake."
Nancy sat up, combing her fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry, Joe. I'm tired today."
"With good reason. Why don't you go lie down in my bed for awhile?"
"I think I will. Wake me in an hour, okay?"
"I will," he promised.
Nancy had never been one to waste time sleeping when there was work to be done. But Joe's bed was warm and comforting, and the rain which had begun lashing against the windowpane lulled her to sleep before she had time to start thinking about the case. The next time she opened her eyes the room had grown darker, and Joe had just sat down on the bed beside her.
Nancy sat up. "Hi," she said softly.
"Hi." He scooted back to sit against the headboard and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her gently back against his chest. He had put a clean shirt on while she slept.
"Good nap?" he asked.
"Very good. I'm sorry, Joe. I shouldn't have left you with all the work like that."
"Hey. We're partners. We're supposed to pick up the slack for each other."
"Still," Nancy said, "I appreciate it. How are things going?"
"I finished up the article and sent the link to Bess about 45 minutes ago. It wasn't hard." He stroked her hair. "Mom called."
"Oh?" She could tell from his tone that it had been more than just a quick-hello type of phone call.
"She finally got Aunt Gertrude to make a doctor appointment." He half-smiled. "Aunt Gert's been complaining day and night that she doesn't trust her doctor because he is younger than she is, and he wears a flashy watch, stupid stuff like that. But she's been having some pretty bad headaches and Mom thinks she's a little scared."
"Oh, Joe. I'm sorry. But I'm really glad she's going to get checked out."
Joe sighed. "As hard as she can be to live with, she's my aunt, and we really do love her."
"I know," Nancy told him.
"I forgot to tell you about that blocked account," Joe said after a moment. Nancy turned to give him a blank look. "The account Brendan had blocked."
"Oh, right."
"Deactivated," he said succinctly. "Gone without a trace."
"Well, that's not useful."
"It had to have been Allie, though. And now that she thinks the whole thing is over, she's covering her tracks. How long can they hold Keith?"
"Until he makes bail," Nancy said, "and that does not seem likely. He's pretty broke, and he doesn't want to bring his parents into this. Have you heard from Chet?"
"He called me last night. He gave me a short list of usernames which seemed more than casually interested in Brendan's treasure hunt, including one guy who offered to buy whatever he found. None of them are local, though. I think the closest one lives in Pennsylvania."
"That's all right. We just need to focus on getting dirt on Diarmid and Allie." Nancy slid carefully out of bed. "I'd better get going. I'm babysitting Myra tonight."
"Okay. I have it set so both our phones will alert us to any replies on the forum. And I'm going to go down to the Bayport police station and see if I can get one of the guys to show me traffic cam footage from the day you were attacked. Maybe we can catch him with his mask off."
"Good thought. I hope whoever is riding the desk down there is bored enough to help you out," Nancy said, padding out to the living room in her sock feet.
"That's what I'm counting on. Want any more pizza before you go?"
"No, thanks. I'll take a sip of your water though."
"Here you are, milady." Joe handed her the glass which had been sitting on the coffee table.
"Thank you, kind sir."
"And may I fetch madame's coat? If I may venture an opinion, madame would look ravishing in the silver mink."
"Madame will stick with the blue wool," Nancy said, laughing. Joe helped her slip into her coat and boots and walked her to the door for a last kiss.
"Will you have Myra all night?"
"I don't think so. That depends on how well George's date goes. What are your plans?"
"I don't know yet. I may stop by later, if that's okay."
"You know I'm always happy to see you. Myra goes to bed around 7:30."
"Okay. I promise I won't wake her up."
Nancy made one stop on her way home: the local bookstore, where she acquired a book and a little stuffed sheep to go with it. She knew George would probably drop off some toys along with Myra, but it couldn't hurt to be extra prepared.
Hannah was in the kitchen when Nancy arrived. "Any word from your father?" she called, hearing Nancy come in.
"Not a peep," Nancy called back. "I'm starting to get impatient."
"Starting to?" Hannah asked, smiling, and pausing in her work to hug the younger woman. Nancy laughed.
"Okay, so I've been impatient since yesterday. Something smells delicious, Hannah."
"I made chicken and dumplings for supper," Hannah said. "Are you hungry?"
"I am now!" Nancy told her.
"We can go ahead and eat now, if you're ready. I'd like to get on the road before this weather takes a turn for the worse."
"That sounds good to me," Nancy said. She went to the cabinet and took out plates for the two of them. "Where are you going?"
"Oh, I thought I told you. I'm going to visit my friend Elaine. I'm going to her book club with her this evening, staying overnight, and coming home after church and a potluck luncheon tomorrow." Hannah, who had just set the food on the table, peered worriedly out the kitchen window. "At least, that was the plan before it started raining again."
"The roads were fine when I came home," Nancy assured her.
"I'm a little afraid that the temperature will dip enough to turn it to ice tonight," Hannah said.
"Just take it slow. You should make it to Elaine's well before it gets that cold."
Hannah shook her head. "I suppose. I'm sorry to leave you on your own with Myra."
"Myra is no problem," Nancy said. She paused, suddenly, and laughed. "I keep saying that. I've probably jinxed myself."
Hannah chuckled. "I certainly hope not."
"We'll be fine," Nancy said. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve, and I even took a nap this afternoon while poor Joe finished up our work. I feel much better than I did this morning."
"Maybe you should see if Callie can come back you up," Hannah said.
Nancy shook her head. "I'll call her if I need her. And Joe said he might stop by later. I'll be fine, Hannah. I think you had more confidence in me when I was 14 and taking my first babysitting job!"
"Things were a little simpler back then," Hannah said, getting up to look out the window again.
"My weather app says it won't get down to freezing until midnight," Nancy said, checking her phone.
"And I'm supposed to believe your phone?" Hannah said absently.
"It's pretty accurate," Nancy began; but just then a small blonde dashed into the kitchen, waving a little yellow umbrella, and the discussion was forgotten.
"Hi, Myra!" Nancy said.
"Hi!" Myra exclaimed. "My duckbrella is all wet!"
"Duckbrella?" Nancy repeated, trying not to laugh, while Hannah took the little girl by the hand and showed her where she could set her wet boots and coat and umbrella to dry.
"I'm sorry," George said, entering the room at a more moderate pace than her young charge. She slung Myra's diaper bag down on a vacant chair with a heavy thump. "I didn't mean for her to track water all through the house. She got away from me. Where do you hide your mop?"
"Don't worry about it, sweetie," Hannah said. "Little feet don't make too much of a mess."
Nancy peered into the bag. "Preparing for a siege, George?"
"Don't laugh. Remember which side of this siege you're on," George said darkly. She unzipped the bag and tilted it toward Nancy. "Okay, Drew. You've got snacks. You've got toys. You've got spare clothes and underwear. Full disclosure, she'll probably need them. You've got a spill-proof cup, which isn't really spill-proof, so watch it. And you've got the lid to Bess's blender, because Myra cried until I let her pack it. And the overnight stuff is in that pocket."
"And Ugly Duckling?" Nancy asked, referring to the dilapidated stuffed duck without which Myra would not sleep.
"What am I, an amateur? He's in there with her pajamas."
"Look at you!" Nancy said. "You are killing this parenting thing!"
"You shut your mouth," George growled. "This is not a side of me I'm proud of."
"There's nothing wrong with being a really great aunt," Nancy said seriously; and then, shifting gears so that her friend wouldn't feel uncomfortable, she asked "Is Regan picking you up here?"
"No, I'm meeting him at Rafferty's."
"Ooh, order the onion rings for me," Nancy said wistfully. "On second thought, don't. Are you guys at a place where you can make out after eating onion rings?"
George shrugged. "Not really. To tell you the truth, I think things are starting to fizzle."
"What? George, I thought you said things were going well."
"When was that?"
"During our stakeout the other night."
George blew out a long breath. "We've talked a few times since then. We just never have time to see each other, you know? Plus, he wants..." She trailed off, looking around for Myra.
"She's in the living room with Hannah," Nancy said.
"He wants me to put out. I'm not really feeling it." She shrugged again.
"He's not pressuring you, right?"
"Oh, hell, no," George said hastily. "You know I don't put up with that shit."
"You've been dating him a few months now," Nancy said slowly. "If you're not interested in him on that level by now, do you think it'll ever happen?"
"I don't know. Probably not. Don't look at me like that, Nan! It's not going to be a big tragedy if we break up. We're not in love or anything."
Nancy sighed. "I like him, though, and you seemed to be having fun together."
"We'll see," George said.
Myra wandered back into the kitchen and made a beeline for her bag. "I want bear crackers now," she announced.
"You'll have to talk to Nancy about that, short stuff. I'm off the clock." George knelt and gave Myra a hug. "Be a good girl, okay? You're going to play with Nancy for a little while and probably go to sleep here. But I'll be back before morning."
"Okay," Myra said, wriggling free. George stood up, offering Nancy a wry smile.
"I was expecting a little more resistance," she said.
"This is Bess's daughter we're talking about. She's anything but shy," Nancy reminded her friend. She stood, too, and pulled George in for a quick hug. "Go, before she changes her mind. Have fun."
"Thanks. I'll try."
"I'm heading out, too, dear," Hannah said. "Do you need anything before I go?"
"I think we're fine." Nancy hugged Hannah. "Be safe. I hope you have a nice visit with Elaine."
Left on their own, Nancy and Myra looked at one another for a moment. Then Myra returned to poking through her bag.
"I want crackers," she said again. "Please."
"These crackers?" Nancy asked, locating a package of Teddy Grahams in a side pocket. Myra's eyes lit up.
"Bear crackers!"
"Come sit on the couch with me," Nancy told her. "I have a brand new story we can read together while you eat your snack."
"Did you go to the liberry?" Myra asked, following Nancy obediently back to the living room.
"No, I went to the bookstore," Nancy said. "I love the library, though."
"I see my friends at the liberry," Myra said. "I have more friends at yoga though."
"Your mommy brings you to a lot of fun places!" Nancy said. She sat the little stuffed sheep in the lap of a delighted Myra, opened the book, and began to read.
Storytime segued into playtime, Myra's snack having boosted her energy; and by 7 o'clock Nancy was aching all over and very relieved to help Myra into her pajamas, brush her teeth, and tuck her into Hannah's bed for some rest. The little girl fell asleep within minutes, happily clutching Ugly Duckling and her new sheep.
That wasn't bad at all, Nancy thought as she tiptoed out of the room. She headed for a kitchen to pour herself a drink before tackling the chaos in the living room. Just as she rounded the corner, she caught an unexpected motion in her peripheral vision. She whirled and struck out instinctively, her fist connecting with a very muscular torso.
"Truce! Truce!" the intruder said urgently, locking his hands around her wrists to prevent her from landing a second blow.
Nancy blinked. "Joe?"
"It's me."
"Why the hell are you lurking in my dark kitchen?" Nancy hissed.
"I just got here. I was being quiet so I wouldn't disturb Myra." He released her wrists and rubbed the sore spot on his abs. "I've always wondered exactly how hard you can hit."
"Well, now you know," Nancy said, trying to remain cross with him. Her hand hurt.
"I'm sorry, Nan."
Nancy relented. "You were just trying to be considerate. I appreciate that." She smiled ruefully. "I probably would have hit you harder if you'd woken her up."
"Did she give you a hard time tonight?" Joe asked sympathetically.
"No, actually. She was a little angel. But she wore me out!" Nancy said. She flipped on the kitchen light, finally, and resumed course toward the refrigerator. "I was just grabbing a drink before cleaning up. We made a pretty spectacular blanket fort in the living room."
"Don't clean that up! I didn't get a chance to play in it, yet," Joe said, only half-joking.
"Go on, then," Nancy said. She paused, looking at the counter, where a brown paper grocery bag sat. "I'm positive this wasn't here earlier."
"That's mine," Joe said.
"Oh, good. I was about to call the bomb squad."
"Just baking supplies," Joe said, starting to unpack the bag onto the counter. "No need to call anybody. I'm not the world's best baker, but nothing I've made has ever exploded yet."
"Yet?" Nancy echoed, smiling up at him. "That's reassuring."
"Don't you start sassing me. I'm trying to help!" Joe said. "I found a knockoff recipe for Cherry Bakewells online. I know you're worried about not finding them, so I thought we could give it a try."
Nancy popped up on tiptoe to give him a gentle kiss. "Joe, I don't know what to say. This is so thoughtful."
"I'm not promising they'll turn out great," Joe said, cupping her cheek and returning her kiss.
"You still get credit for effort," Nancy told him. "Although, if we keep this up, nothing is going to get baked at all." Joe's hands were at her hips, now, one cradling her closer and the other gently rucking up the hem of her sweater to slide up the warm curve of her waist.
"Would that be so bad?"
Nancy moaned, softly. "Only in all the right ways," she said, kissing his neck. "But Myra's still here, and I don't want her walking in on anything explicit."
"That is a good point," Joe said, easing her sweater back into place. Nancy pulled away, planting one final kiss on his collarbone.
"Okay, Hardy. Let's see the recipe."
He pulled it up on his phone while Nancy tied Hannah's apron on over her jeans and sweater. This accomplished, she pressed up next to him, perhaps closer than was strictly necessary, to look over the instructions.
"This doesn't look too complicated," she said innocently, pressing her breast against his arm.
Joe gave her a look that said he knew exactly what she was doing. Two can play that game, his eyes told her. Without skipping a beat he stepped back, encircling her lightly with his arms so he could hold the recipe in front of them both.
"Speak for yourself. Last time I baked something Frank chipped a tooth," he said. His tone matched hers for innocence, but he was very deliberately pressing his groin into her back.
Nancy's breath hitched a little. "Practice makes perfect," she said inanely, hoping her voice was not too breathy. She stepped away from him and turned, meeting a pair of sparkling blue eyes.
"You look a bit flustered, Miss Drew."
"Just go grab the butter!" she ordered, smoothing her apron.
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Joe said, handing her the butter and a mixing bowl.
"You are incorrigible."
"So I've been told," he said amiably. "Flour?"
"Yes, please. And stand over there."
"Don't you trust me?"
"I'm not sure I trust myself right now!" she confessed.
Joe leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Truce," he said, for the second time that evening. "No more teasing. Let's bake."
They mixed and measured together happily, combining real focus with flirtatious banter. When the confection was finally in the oven, Joe brewed a pot of coffee and they sat down at the kitchen table to rest.
"Poker?" Joe asked, pulling a deck of cards from his pocket.
"Not st-"
"No, no, not strip poker. This time." He winked and began to deal. "Five card stud. Playing for...got any matches?"
"How about Teddy Grahams?" Nancy suggested, dividing what remained of Myra's snack.
"This one is wet," Joe complained.
"Sorry. Sometimes she licks them and puts them back in the bowl."
"I used to do that to Frank's cookies," he said, grinning.
"See? Karma," Nancy told him. "I see your slimy bear and raise you two dry ones."
The time passed quickly. When the oven timer beeped, Joe jumped up to retrieve the pan.
"Are they done?" Nancy asked.
"I think so. Do they need to cool before I cut them?"
"They really do. Get over here and let me finish losing."
He returned to the table. "I think you're bluffing."
"Bluffing about losing?" Laughing, Nancy threw down her cards. "Read 'em and rejoice, Hardy."
The cookies, when Nancy got up to slice them, looked a bit sad and deflated. Nancy stood for a moment, regarding them.
"What's wrong?" Joe asked, refilling his coffee cup.
"They're not going to win any beauty contests," Nancy said, cutting off two sample pieces.
"Didn't Hannah ever teach you it's what's on the inside that counts?" Joe reached over and snagged one, blowing on it lightly before taking a bite. Nancy shrugged and followed suit. She only needed one taste. Nancy set her cookie down, rubbing crumbs from her fingertips. It wasn't awful...but it wasn't good, either. I wish Bess were here to help me tinker with the recipe, she thought. It was silly to get upset about a dessert, but she felt disappointed and discouraged.
"They're not the worst thing I've ever had," Joe said thoughtfully, taking another bite of his. "What's wrong, Nan?"
Nancy tried to force a cheerful look onto her face. "Nothing, Joe. Thanks for giving it a try."
"Nancy. Come on."
"Oh..." She breathed out, a sort of huffy half-sigh. "I hate to let Hannah down, that's all."
"Hannah will understand, babe." He looked at her. "This isn't really about Hannah, is it?"
"Dating a detective is not all it's cracked up to be," Nancy joked, swiping away a tear before it could fall. "Okay. You know how little I was when my mom died, right? So the way I miss her, it's...complicated, because I never really got to know her. I just have a vague sense of a very loving and warm person. But I hate that. I hate that she hasn't been here to see all the things I've done with my life. Anything that connects me to her is so important to me."
"Like this?" Joe said softly, touching the claddagh ring on her right hand.
Nancy nodded. "Tangible things, like wearing her jewelry, and intangible things, like listening to the music we both like, and keeping up these silly little rituals. I know they're just cookies, but I can't help feeling really sad that we won't have them this year."
Joe wrapped his arms around her. "I get it," he said softly. "I don't think you're being silly at all."
"Thanks." Nancy leaned into him, appreciating his strong, comforting presence. In the background, her phone chimed, but they ignored it.
It chimed again.
"Here," Joe said, disentangling himself from her and reaching across the table to grab it for her. "Is it a response to our forum post?"
Nancy's face lit up. "It's Dad!" she said. "And Camille. She said yes!" She turned the screen so Joe could see Camille's text, a photo of her hand with the ring firmly in place.
"I can't get over how beautiful that ring is," Nancy said, staring at it. "Dad's taste has changed a lot since he bought Mom's ring."
"You don't like your mom's ring?" Joe asked curiously.
"I do like it. It's just a regular ring, though."
"They were pretty young, weren't they?"
"They were older than your parents were. I think they were both 20 when they got married."
Joe turned her phone again to study Camille's ring. "It's nice, but it isn't you," he said.
"Oh, really?"
"Really."
"What kind of ring is 'me?' " Nancy asked, tucking her phone into her pocket. "And why didn't you tell me I'm still wearing this apron?"
"Because you look really cute, and I'm not sure yet," Joe answered.
"What kind of ring did your mother give you?" Nancy asked from beneath the apron she was tugging over her head.
"She gave me my great-grandmother's engagement ring. I'll show it to you next time you're over at my place." Joe got up and went to the sink to rinse out their coffee cups and mixing bowls before setting them in the dishwasher. "Is this full enough to run?"
"Yeah, go ahead. Thanks."
Joe retrieved the dishwasher soap from beneath the sink and measured it out. "Are you keeping Myra overnight, Nan?"
"I think George is going to come pick her up soon," Nancy said, transferring the remaining cookies to a container.
"Are things not going well with Regan?"
"They're not going badly," Nancy said. "I get the sense they're just not going, period."
"I get it." He reached for her and kissed her. It was gentle, this time; loving, but without any urgency.
"I had fun tonight," he said. "I'm sorry the cookies didn't turn out better."
"Don't worry about that. I had fun, too," Nancy told him. "Are you heading home?"
"It's getting late."
She walked him out to his truck, shivering in the gusty wind that had picked up, and as they were kissing goodnight George's headlights swung into the drive.
"I'm not paying you to fool around with your boyfriend, young lady!" George called, shutting her car door.
"You're not paying me at all!" Nancy retorted.
"That's for sure," George said. "Hi, Hardy."
"Hey, Fayne."
"How's the little gremlin?"
"Sleeping peacefully," Nancy said. "She's in Hannah's room. I'll get her for you."
"No," George and Joe both said, and broke off to look at each other.
"She's pretty heavy. I'll get the kid if you get the bag," George said.
"That's better." Joe kissed Nancy's cheek and hopped up into his truck. "See you tomorrow, Nan?"
She nodded. "Drive safe."
"Yes, ma'am."
George steered Nancy toward the house. "Come on. It's freaking freezing out here."
Myra stirred a little and mumbled something incoherent when George gently transferred her to her car seat, but she stayed asleep. George high-fived Nancy silently, tossed the diaper bag into the passenger seat, and drove off.
Nancy headed back inside, feeling suddenly very alone. She carefully locked the door and armed the alarm system before moving deeper into the big house.
Despite her small family, Nancy had rarely spent time alone in the house. There had always been friends around, and her father working in his office, and Hannah's motherly presence somewhere about the place. Tonight the house was dark and almost oppressively silent. Nancy wandered a little, looking at all the familiar rooms and wondering what it would be like after Camille had moved in and Hannah had moved out.
Things are changing. Home is changing. The thought made her feel a bit lonely. But her next thought, though it surprised her a little, made her feel better.
I want to move out, too. I'm going to start looking for my own place. Making a decision always bolstered Nancy's spirits. The silence around her began to feel peaceful, now, rather than oppressive. It was with great contentment that Nancy went upstairs to shower and get ready for bed and scroll the forum on her phone until sleep claimed her again.