Brazen Virtue (22 page)

“This is going to be a great room.” Grace rubbed at an itch on her chin with the back of her hand. “I really like the way you’re shaping it like a little L. Every civilized bedroom should have a sitting room.”

He’d wanted her to like it. In his mind he could already see it finished, down to the curtains on the window. Priscillas in blue, tied back so the sun would stream in. It was easy for him to see it, just as it was easy for him to see her there.

“I’m thinking about putting in a couple of skylights.”

“Really?” Grace walked over to the bed, sat down, and craned her neck. “You could lie here and watch the stars.
Or on a night like this, the rain.” That would be nice, she thought as she looked up at the unfinished ceiling. It would be lovely to sleep, or make love, or just daydream under the glass. “If you ever decided to take your trade to New York, you could make a fortune remodeling lofts.”

“Do you miss it?” Rather than look at her, Ed busied himself taping a seam.

“New York? Sometimes.” Less, she realized, than she’d expected to. “You know what you need over there? A window seat.” From her perch on the bed, she pointed to the west window. “When I was a little girl I always thought how wonderful it would be to have a window seat where you could curl up and dream.” She rose and flexed her arms. It was funny how quickly unused muscles got sore. “I spent most of my time hiding out in the attic and dreaming.”

“Did you always want to write?”

Grace dipped into the bucket of compound again. “I liked to lie.” She laughed and smeared the mudlike mixture over a nailhead. “Not big ones, just clever ones. I could get out of trouble by making up stories, and adults were usually amused enough to let me off lightly. It always infuriated Kathleen.” She was silent for a minute. She didn’t want to remember the bad times. “What’s that song?”

“It’s Patsy Cline.”

Grace listened a moment. It wasn’t the kind of music she would have chosen, but it had an edge she liked. “Didn’t they make a movie about her? Sure they did. She was killed in a plane crash in the sixties.” She listened again. The song sounded so alive, so vital. Grace wasn’t sure if it made her want to smile or weep. “I guess that’s another reason I wanted to write. To leave something behind. A story’s like a song. It lasts. I guess I’ve been thinking more about that lately. Do you ever think about that, about leaving something behind?”

“Sure.” More lately as well, he thought, but for different reasons. “Great-grandchildren.”

That made her laugh. Compound slopped onto the cuff of her sweater, but she didn’t bother to wipe it off. “That’s nice. I guess you’d think that way, coming from a big family.”

“How do you know I have a big family?”

“Your mother mentioned it. Two brothers and a sister. Both your brothers are married, even though Tom and …”—she had to think back a moment—“Scott are younger than you. You have, let’s see, I think it’s three nephews. Made me think of Huey, Dewey, and Louie—no offense.”

He could only shake his head. “Don’t you ever forget anything?”

“Nope. Your mother’s holding out for a granddaughter, but no one’s cooperating. She’s still hoping you’ll give up crime and join your uncle’s construction firm.”

Uncomfortable, he picked up a piece of corner bead and began hammering it in. “Apparently you two had quite a conversation.”

“She was auditioning me, remember?” He was blushing, just a little, but enough to make her want to hug him. “Anyway, people are always telling me intimate details of their lives. I’ve never known why.”

“Because you listen.”

She smiled, considering that one of the greatest compliments. “So why aren’t you building condos with your uncle? You like to build.”

“It relaxes me.” Just as the Merle Haggard number playing on the radio now relaxed him. “If I did it all day every day, I’d be bored.”

She caught her tongue between her teeth as she slopped compound down a seam. “You’re talking to someone who knows just how boring police work can be.”

“It’s a puzzle. You ever do jigsaws when you were a kid? The big twenty-five-thousand-piece jobs?”

“Sure. After a couple of hours, I’d cheat. It would drive everyone crazy when they found out I’d torn off the end of a piece to make it fit.”

“I could spend days on one and never lose interest. Always working from the outside to the core. The more pieces you put in, the more detail; the more detail, the closer you are to the whole picture.”

She stopped a moment, because she understood. “Didn’t you ever want to go right for the heart of it and the hell with the details?”

“No. If you do that, you’re always searching for the loose ends, that one elusive piece that ties it all up and makes it right.” After tacking in the last nail, he stepped back to be sure he’d done the job right. “There’s a tremendous satisfaction when you put in the last piece and see the full picture. This guy we’re after now—we just don’t have all the pieces yet. But we will. Once we do, we’ll shuffle them around until everything fits.”

“Do they always?”

He looked down at her then. She had the damn compound smeared on her face, and her expression was so earnest. Ed rubbed his thumb over her cheek to remove the worst of it. “Sooner or later.” Setting down his tool, he framed her face in his hands. “Trust me.”

“I do.” Kind eyes, strong hands. She leaned closer. She wanted more than comfort, needed more. “Ed—” The banging on the door downstairs made her shut her eyes in frustration. “Sounds like we’ve got company.”

“Yeah. With luck I can get rid of them in five minutes.”

Her brows arched. There was an edge to his voice that pleased and flattered her. “Detective, this could be your lucky day.” She took his hand so that they walked downstairs
together. The minute Ed opened the door, Ben pulled Tess inside.

“Christ, Ed, don’t you know people could drown out here? What were you—” He caught sight of Grace. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi. Relax. We were playing with drywall. Hello, Tess. I’m glad to see you. I never had a chance to thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Tess rose on her toes and pulled Ed down for a kiss. “I’m sorry, Ed. I told Ben we should call first.”

“No problem. Sit down.”

“Sure, pull up a crate.” Ben eased his wife down on a packing box, then held up a bottle of wine. “You’ve got glasses, don’t you?”

Ed took the bottle, then lifted both brows. “What’s the occasion? You usually bring over a six-pack of Moosehead or sponge off me.”

“That’s gratitude for you, especially now when we’re making you a godfather.” Ben took Tess’s hand and held it in both of his. “In seven months, one week, and three days. More or less.”

“A baby? You guys are having a baby?” Ed swung an arm around Ben and squeezed. “Nice going, partner.” He took Tess’s free hand almost as if he were going to monitor her pulse. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Ben nearly collapsed, but I’m fine.”

“I didn’t nearly collapse. Maybe I babbled for a couple of minutes, but I didn’t collapse. I’ll get glasses. Make sure she stays sitting down, will you?” he said to Ed.

“I’ll give you a hand.” Grace took the wine from Ed and followed Ben to the kitchen. “You must be on top of the world.”

“I don’t think I’ve taken it in yet. A family.” He started to rummage through cupboards while Grace found a
corkscrew. “I never thought about having a family. Then all of a sudden there was Tess. Everything changed.”

Grace stared at the bottle as she began to draw out the cork. “It’s funny how family can keep everything focused.”

“Yeah.” After setting out glasses, Ben laid a hand on her shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

“Better, most of the time better. The hardest thing is believing she’s gone and that I won’t ever see her again.”

“I know how you feel. I do,” he said when he felt her instant withdrawal. “I lost my brother.”

After drawing the cork out, she made herself look at him. There was kindness there too, in the eyes. He was more intense than Ed, more restless and wired, but the kindness was there. “How did you handle it?”

“Badly. He had everything going for him, and I was crazy about him. We didn’t see eye to eye on everything, but we were tight. He got shipped to Nam right out of high school.”

“I’m sorry. It must be horrible to lose someone you love in a war.”

“He didn’t die in Nam, only the best parts of him did.” Ben picked up the bottle and began to pour. It was funny; even after all the years, he remembered too well. “He came back a different person, withdrawn, bitter, lost. He turned to drugs to wipe it out, fog it up, but it didn’t help.” He saw she was thinking of her sister, and the bottles that had been stashed throughout the house. “It’s tough not to blame them for choosing an easy way.”

“Yes, yes, it is. What happened to him?”

“In the end, he couldn’t take it anymore. So he opted out.”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” The tears started again, the ones she’d been able to hold off for days. “I don’t want to do this.”

“No.” He understood that as well. “But sometimes it’s better after you do.”

“Everyone says they understand, but they don’t.” When he put his arms around her, she held on. “You don’t know what it is to lose a part of yourself until it happens. There’s nothing you can do to prepare for it, you know? And nothing you can do afterward, after you’ve handled all the details. That’s the worst part, not being able to do anything. How long—how long did it take you to put it behind you?”

“I’ll let you know when it happens.”

She nodded, letting her head rest against his shoulder for another minute. “All you can do is go on?”

“That’s right. After a while you don’t think about it every day. Then something happens in your life like Tess did to mine. You can go on. You don’t forget, but you can go on.”

She drew back to wipe the tears from her cheeks with both hands. “Thanks.”

“You going to be okay?”

“Sooner or later.” She sniffled once, then managed a smile. “Sooner, I think. Let’s take this back in. We’re going to celebrate life tonight.”

M
ARY BETH MORRISON HUNCHED
over her monthly budget and listened to her two oldest squabble over a board game. The natives were restless, she thought, and tried to figure out where she’d overextended in the grocery department.

“Jonas, if you’re going to get that upset when Lori takes over your country, you shouldn’t play the game.”

“She cheats,” Jonas complained. “She always cheats.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

If Mary Beth hadn’t been trying to find how to cut back an extra hundred a month, she might have let the argument run its course. “Maybe you’d be better off if you put the game away and went to your rooms.” The mild comment had the desired effect. Both children calmed down enough to make their accusations in whispers.

The baby of the family, Prissy Pat as the other children liked to call her, wandered over to demand that her mother fix the bow in her hair. At five, Patricia was all girl. Mary Beth set aside her accounts long enough to fuss with the
lace ribbon. Her six-year-old son was doing his best to instigate another battle between his older brother and sister as they vied to take over the world. After a time, both Jonas and Lori turned on him. The television blared and the newest kitten was busy hissing at Binky, their middle-aged cocker spaniel. All in all, it was a typical Friday night at the Morrisons’.

“I think I fixed the Chevy. Needed timing, that’s all.” Harry came into the family room wiping his hands on a dish towel. Mary Beth thought briefly of how often she’d told him not to spread the kitchen linens around the house, then lifted her face for his kiss. The scent of the aftershave she’d given him for his birthday lingered on his cheeks.

“My hero. I hated the idea of breaking down on the way to the bake sale on Sunday.”

“It’s humming right along now. Pipe down, Jonas.” Without breaking rhythm, he lifted Pat into his arms for a snuggle. “Why don’t we take her for a test drive?”

Mary Beth pushed back from the desk. It was tempting, just the idea of getting out of the house for an hour, maybe stopping off for ice cream or indulging the kids in a round of miniature golf. Then she looked back down at her accounts.

“I’ve got to get this straightened out so I can make a deposit in the automatic teller tomorrow morning.”

“You look tired.” Harry planted a kiss on Pat’s cheek, then set her down again.

“Just a little.”

He eyed the bills and numbers. “I could give you a hand.”

Mary Beth tallied figures without looking up. “Thanks, but the last time you helped me, it took me six months to get us back on track.”

“Insults.” He ruffled her hair. “I’d take offense if it wasn’t true. Jonas, you’re pressing your luck.”

“He takes his games too seriously,” Mary Beth murmured. “Just like his father.”

“Games are serious.” He bent down again to whisper in her ear. “Wanna play?”

She laughed. This was a man she’d known for over twenty years, and he still made her pulse flutter. “At this rate I should be done by midnight.”

“Would it help if I cleared the kids out for a while?”

She smiled up at him. “You read my mind. If I had an hour of uninterrupted silence, I might figure out how to squeeze out the money for those new tires.”

“Say no more.” He leaned over and kissed her. From his position on the floor, Jonas rolled his eyes. His parents were always kissing each other. “Do yourself a favor and take those contacts out. You’ve had them in too long again.”

“You’re probably right. Thanks, Harry, you may be saving my sanity.”

“I like you crazy.” He kissed her again, then held up his hands. “Anyone in the mood for a drive and hot fudge sundaes meet in the garage in two minutes.”

The scrambling started instantly. Game pieces scattered, shoes were hunted up. Binky went off on a tangent of barking until the kitten chased him out of the room. Mary Beth unearthed Pat’s little pink sweater with the rhinestones and reminded Jonas to comb his hair. He didn’t, but it was the thought that counted.

Inside of ten minutes, the house was empty. Hugging the silence to her for a moment, Mary Beth sat at the desk again. There would be a family cleanup the next day, but right now she wasn’t even going to look at the mess the kids had left behind.