Boo (17 page)

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Authors: Rene Gutteridge

BOOK: Boo
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Marlee’s jaw dropped, and she covered her mouth and squealed as if they were sixteen again. “Get outta town!”

Ainsley rolled her eyes a little, glancing up to make sure the customers were all engaged in their food and
not
in her conversation with Marlee. “I can’t believe I’m saying it, to tell you the truth.”

“Well, he’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

Ainsley smiled. “You think so?”

“Well, yeah! I mean truthfully, I’d never really noticed before, and that’s saying a lot because as you know I’m quite fond of men.”

“I was kind of mean to him, though. I was so shocked that he asked me out, I just sort of cut him to the quick.”

“But you said you had a nice time over at his house.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I made him burn his dinner. It was the least I could do.”

“He obviously still likes you.”

Ainsley smiled a little. “Yeah. I’m just not sure how to go about asking him.”

“Asking him out?”


No
. Asking him to ask me out again.”

“Why don’t you just ask him out?”

“Marlee, women aren’t supposed to ask men out.”

“Why?”

“Because … well, they’re just not.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s not proper.”

“Well, it works great for me.”


Anyway
, I don’t know what to do.”

“Just go over there. Talk to him.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It
is
easy.” Marlee looked Ainsley in the eye. “Swallow your pride.”

“I’ll go visit him tonight. Just to say hello. It can’t hurt.”

Marlee leaned on the counter. “
Maybe
you could be a little more forthright about your intentions in being there. After all, it took a lot of guts for this guy to ask you out. The least you could do is help him out.”

Ainsley hugged her friend. “You’re right. Thank you.”

She sensed someone behind her and turned. “Oh, hello, Miss Peeple. I didn’t see you standing there.”

The old woman grinned at her. Her beady, cataract-ridden eyes, a misty and melting blue, seemed bright with mischief. “That’s okay, dear. I just need change for a dollar.”

“Sure.” Ainsley fumbled in her pockets for four quarters. “What brings you by The Haunted Mansion? Don’t see you here often.”

Missy held out her hand for the quarters. “Well, honey, sometimes even when you’re my age you have to venture out and do some things you’re not comfortable doing.” She gave Ainsley a little wink and hobbled out of the restaurant.

Marlee turned to her and grinned. “Good advice.”

She had sat in the car for forty minutes trying to get enough nerve to go up to his house. He was home. She could see him through the windows. Eating dinner. Playing with his dogs. Starting a fire. He seemed comfortable being by himself. Being alone gave her a complex. But he was graceful at it, absurd as that sounded.

By the time she finally decided to get out of her car, night had fallen.

She walked up the hill and knocked. She could hear the dogs scurry to the door, but they didn’t bark. The door opened, and he smiled as soon as he saw her.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she replied.

“Come in.”

“I can’t.”

He seemed a little amused and crossed his arms. “Oh? Well, if I’m lucky maybe my food will catch on fire, and you’ll have to come in and cook me dinner again.”

“You’ve already eaten.” He raised his eyebrows and she cleared her throat. “I mean, haven’t you?”

“Ainsley, it’s freezing. Either come in, or tell me to get my coat and let’s go somewhere.”

Ainsley smiled. “First of all, I wanted to apologize for what happened to your dinner the other night. If I hadn’t shown up on your doorstep unannounced, you wouldn’t have burned those pork chops.”

“True. It’s all your fault. But once again you’ve shown up unannounced, and I still don’t know why.” He smiled warmly at her.

“Okay, I wanted to … I just needed to tell you that … or ask you … I mean say that …” She shook her head. “I seem to lose my vocabulary when I’m around you. Maybe because you’re a writer.”

“It’s okay. I seem to speak the same language of incoherence when I’m around you.”

She laughed at that. “Wolfe …”

“Yes?”

“The other day, when you came to my doorstep and you asked, well, you asked me … you asked me that question. You know the one.” He shook his head. “Okay, I guess I deserve to have to say it out loud.” She sighed heavily. “What I’m trying to say, and doing a poor job at it, is that maybe I was too hasty in declining your offer. Your offer to … to … do the date thing.”

“Do the date thing?” He chuckled.

“Yes, and maybe I was a little harsh in my decline as well. It’s hard enough to get rejected, but to get rejected with a good, old-fashioned scorning is twice as bad. I apologize.”

He smiled. “Apology accepted.”

“Thank you. And I would also like to say that, well, I’d like to … to … go … on a date with you.” A few yards away, the bushes rattled. Ainsley startled. “Raccoons?”

“Probably.”

“Yes, well, anyway, I don’t think it’s right for me to have you ask again. But I’m a lady, and I refuse to ask a man out. So you see, I have a dilemma.”

She imagined in the dark that his face was bright with amusement. “I see that you do.”

“And I don’t exactly know how to rectify it.”

Wolfe scratched his forehead. “Well, maybe we should just meet for lunch. Just as friends. Then your problem would be solved, wouldn’t it?”

Indeed, it would. “That would be wonderful.”

“How is Saturday? I’ll pick you up … just to save gas, of course.”

“Of course. Sounds nice.”

“All right.”

“All right.” Ainsley held out her hand, and he shook it gently.

“You’re freezing. Young woman, you need to warm up.” She caught a gleeful twinkle in his eye. “I must insist you come in and sit by the fire, just for a little bit. Let me fix you some hot cocoa.”

She gazed into his eyes. They were approachable and sensitive. She looked away but agreed, and he guided her into his house.

In spite of the three scarves, two coats, and two pairs of mittens she wore, Missy Peeple shivered, causing the bushes she sat by to rustle. Thankfully, only a couple of squirrels had noticed. She put the binoculars up to her face again. From her vantage point she could see Miss Parker in the kitchen watching him do something at the stove. They were chatting like old friends.

She’d learned to read lips years ago when she thought she was going deaf (only to find out it was a buildup of wax in her ears), but the distance was too great for her to pick up on any of this conversation. She guessed from the body language, though, that there was more chemistry in that kitchen than in a tenth-grade science lab. The thought irritated her so much she ground her teeth together. At least that stopped the chattering. Her instincts were right. Miss Parker was officially the very first kink in her plan.

A couple small pine trees stood twenty or so yards nearer to the house, and she wondered if she could make it to them without being seen. It was a risky move, but there was, after all, a lot at stake.

She seethed at the thought of how Mr. Tennison had failed to do anything more than make Boo more resolute. She could tell by the way the gentleman left with his coat buttoned tighter than a straitjacket, his head hung lower than his stooping shoulders, that the meeting had been a disaster. What would anybody do without her? At least she’d put Tennison on the right track, but now Wolfe was falling in love with the town saint. This was not good.

Missy knew there was dirty work to be done, and she was going to have to be the one to do it … with the help of a few unsuspecting friends. She rubbed her mitten-clad hands together in the chilly air.

Hunkering down in the bushes, she held her breath and tried to anticipate how much time it would take her to cane her way up the small hill to those two pine trees. Enough loose gravel covered the hill to lead to her everlasting demise. Still, if she could only read those
lips … maybe she could rest assured. Maybe Boo was having doubts about the faith. Maybe that’s why he’d asked her inside.

She stood up as straight as an old woman with a hunched back could stand, steadied herself with her cane, and let the binoculars rest around her neck. Drawing in a deep breath, she took one step forward.

She froze at the cracking of a limb, and then heard a voice say, “What are you doing?”

Garth Twyne swatted at the sharp twig that was poking the side of his head and kept his eye on Miss Missy Peeple, whose own eyes were wide as a raccoon’s. A warm sensation of satisfaction flowed through his body at the thought of what he’d just witnessed.

Her face was powder white, and her mouth was hanging open. Garth finally broke the twig off the tree, threw it to the ground, and crossed his arms authoritatively.

“I asked you a question,” he said.

Suddenly he heard Miss Peeple gasp for breath. Her mouth widened, and she clutched her heart. Her eyes were wide with terror and she looked straight at Garth. “No. Don’t. Please. Please don’t do this to me!”

Garth tried to back up, but there was no place to go. The brush was too thick. “Do what to you?”

“No. No! Stop! Please. Please, have mercy! Don’t hurt me!”

Garth shook his head, hushing her with his fingers. “I’m not hurting you. What are you talking about! Hush! Be quiet!”

“Oh! The agony! Oh, please. Please don’t kill me! Please!” She lunged forward and grabbed the side of his head. He shoved her backwards.

Garth felt himself grow angry and despondent all at once. Was he dreaming this? What was going on? “I’m not hurting you! What’s happening here? Are you having a heart attack or something?”

Suddenly, with one big gasp of air, Missy Peeple tumbled to the ground and rolled on her side. She coughed twice and twitched a little
before becoming perfectly still. Garth was paralyzed with fear. What had just happened? Was she dead? Had she just died in front of him?

He glanced around and then leaned over her, trying to feel for a pulse. The old woman was so bundled up he couldn’t even find her neck. And what in the world was he supposed to do if he didn’t find a pulse?
Revive her?
He knew CPR but had never actually used it, on a human anyway. He’d given mouth-to-mouth to a horse and a dog once, but he gagged at the thought of putting his lips on her old and crusty ones.

Carefully rolling her over onto her back, he tried to see if her chest was moving up and down. He could tell nothing. He knew as time passed, his chances of reviving her dimmed. With an unsteady stomach, he swallowed back the threatening bile and decided he’d better at least give it a try.

He started to bring his mouth to hers when suddenly her eyes flew open and she said, “What? You’re going to kiss me now?”

Garth stumbled backward and yelped in fright, shivering next to the small tree. Missy Peeple managed, with great effort, to sit up and dust herself off. Garth felt as if he’d just seen someone rise from the dead.

“Are you crazy?”

She smiled deviously. “A little, dear. Does that scare you?”

“What was that stunt? Faking a heart attack?”

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