She Loves Me Not (8 page)

“Don't let him fool you, Hitch,” Rose says now. “He still knows how to roar pretty loudly.”

“I'll bet. Where's her highness this morning?”

“Watching cartoons. Jenna! Come say hi to Uncle Hitch.”

“Hi, Uncle Hitch! I'll be right there,” comes the bellowed response.

“She'll be right here,” Rose echoes dryly. “She has to get her cartoon fix on weekends because I don't let her turn on the TV on school mornings.”

Hitch smiles. “No problem. I'm not in any hurry this morning. I've spent the last three hours under an old lady's sink. I need a nice long break.”

Hitch moved back to the island a few years ago to take over his family's plumbing business. Though he learned the trade right out of high school, he left after a few years to join the military. His father optimistically continued to call the business Hitchcock and Son.

“Mark my words
—
he'll be back someday,”
Sam always said.
“You can take the boy out of Long Island but you can't take the Long Island out of the boy.”

Rose doubted that. She couldn't imagine a man like Hitch finding a reason to settle down alone in a such small town after living all over the world. But Sam was right.

She'll never forget the day Hitch called from somewhere in Saudi Arabia to say he was coming home for good. Sam's “Whoo-hoo” was so ear-shattering it set the neighborhood dogs barking.

“You want coffee, Hitch?” Rose offers, trying to sound cheerful.

“Only if it's made.”

“I've been through one pot already, and I was just about to make another.”

“Uh-oh. Rough night?” He looks more closely at her, making her wish she has on makeup to hide the dark circles that must underscore her eyes. Not that she needs to look good for Hitch. He's as no-frills a guy as Sam was, and Rose certainly isn't trying to impress him. Nor does she want to discuss her sleepless night, or the reason behind it—which has nothing to do with Leo. Her son has slept soundly through yet another night, thanks to the sound machine.

Even the shrill ring of the telephone at three
A.M
. didn't wake Leo. Nor did it wake Jenna.

Only Rose, who had finally drifted off to sleep less than an hour earlier, was disturbed by the unexpected call. She woke with her heart pounding, certain that something was terribly wrong.

After all, it was a wee-hour phone call to her dorm room that informed her of her mother's death years ago.

She pushes the grim memory from her mind and busies herself measuring coffee grounds into a clean filter.

“Guess what, Uncle Hitch? We're going swedding!” Leo announces.

“On the grass?”

“No, in the snow. Mommy said it's going to snow.”

“Really, Mommy?” Hitch looks at her. “Do you have one of those snow-making machines stashed in the shed?”

“I wish. Leo, I said last night that the weatherman predicted snow, but this morning he changed the forecast. Now it's just going to be yucky and rainy. So we won't be able to go sledding after all.”

Leo opens his mouth to protest, but Hitch cuts him off. “Maybe you can come with me today, Leo.”

“I can? Mommy, Uncle Hitch said—”

“I heard him. Aren't you working?” Rose asks.

Hitch shrugs. “Nah. I'm done for the day.” He swings Leo up into his arms and says, “I can take you to the movies and then we'll go get pizza.”

“Can we go to the dye-no for choco-wat chip pancakes?”

Her back to them as she fills the coffee pot with cold water, Rose smiles.

“Whatever you want, Leo. Is that okay, Rose?”

Before she can reply, the puppy starts barking in the living room, the front door opens and a familiar voice calls, “Anyone home?”

“In here. That's Leslie,” Rose tells Hitch.

“I figured.” He looks uncomfortable.

A moment later, Leslie breezes into the kitchen. “Who's parked in the driveway? Peter needs to get the lumber out of the truck and he's going to—” She stops short, seeing her brother's old friend, whom she used to date. “Hey, Hitch. How's it going?”

“I've been pretty good,” Hitch says. “How're you, Leslie?”

“Fine. What happened to your panel truck? Don't tell me you gave up on Hitchcock and Son already?”

“Nah, I just don't like to bring the truck out on days when the roads might ice over. The tires are almost bald, and I don't have a death wish . . .” He trails off into awkward silence.

Rose is certain that all of them—at least, everyone but Leo—are thinking about Sam.

He didn't have a death wish, either. He was simply worried about the ice coating the wires, not wanting them to lose power in the night with two small children in the house.

Rose barely stirred when he leaned over her in bed and said he was going out to knock off the ice. She murmured “Be careful” and went back to sleep.

Realizing that the silence in the kitchen has stretched beyond a moment, Rose—perhaps because she's grown accustomed to such rough conversational spots—gets past it first. “So what are you driving instead, Hitch?”

“My father's car. He can't see to drive anyway these days.”

Leslie reaches down to give her nephew a hug. “Hey, I thought we'd go out and do something today, Leo. That way Mommy can have some time to herself for a change. What do you say?”

“I say I'm going to eat pancakes with Uncle Hitch.”

“Oh. That's great,” Leslie says brightly. She looks at Rose as Leo scampers into the next room. “Can I take Jenna?”

“Be my guest.” Rose knows she should feel giddy at the prospect of an entire afternoon to herself, but she isn't necessarily looking forward to being alone in the house. Not after last night.

The phone call was probably just a wrong number, she tells herself.

And the chocolates on her car seat were obviously intended as a gift.

A gift that might very well have been placed there by Leo, though he denied it when she asked—or perhaps by whoever sent her that heart on Valentine's Day.

She threw the chocolates in the Dumpster behind the bookstore when she got to work and tried to put the incident out of her mind. Bill asked her a few times if anything was wrong, though. She was tempted to tell him, but it seemed silly to be bothered by something so innocuous.

At least, it seemed innocuous in the broad light of day, in a public place. Lying in bed in a darkened house at midnight, she couldn't help being frightened at the thought of an anonymous somebody sneaking around, perhaps even following her to leave those chocolates on the seat.

“Hitch, would you mind moving your car out of the driveway so that Peter can unload some stuff?” Leslie is asking.

“Sure.” He jangles his keys. “Who's Peter?”

“My fiancé.”

“That's great, Leslie. I'm happy for you.”

“Thanks.” She smiles awkwardly.

“Be right back,” Hitch says.

As soon as he's gone, Leslie turns to Rose. “I didn't know he was going to be here.”

“He stops by sometimes. He likes to see the kids.”

“Are you sure it's not you he's coming to see?”

“What?”

Leslie shrugs. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“That's ridiculous. He just pops in to check on us because he was Sam's friend.”

“Really? He didn't come around very often when Sam was alive.”

“Leslie, he was in the military until a few years ago, remember? He was living halfway across the world. He couldn't exactly drop by for coffee.”

“Well, all I'm saying is that if he's doing that now, he might be coming to see you. But take it from me. If you do start dating him, don't trust him.”

“Leslie! Shhh! And anyway . . . I'm not going to date him.” Rose hesitates, then asks, “But why wouldn't I trust him if I did?”

“Because he cheats. We went out for a while, years ago. You knew that, right? Anyway, it turned out he was seeing someone else behind my back.”

Yes. Denise. Rose knows all about her. According to Sam, she was the love of Hitch's life. They got engaged on his twenty-first birthday, and she broke it off a few weeks later. That was when he abruptly joined the army and left Laurel Bay.

“You can't blame him for something that happened when you were kids, Leslie.” Even as she says it, Rose wonders why she's defending Hitch. After all, for as close as he was to Sam, and for as often as he pops in, it's not as though she knows him very well.

“I was sixteen. Didn't you have your heart broken when you were sixteen, Ro? It's not the kind of thing you get over easily. And anyway—I'm not still angry at him. I'm just saying you shouldn't trust him.”

Rose shrugs. She takes milk from the refrigerator and refills the sugar bowl from the canister. Hitch likes his coffee light and sweet.

Okay, so maybe she does know more about him than she even realized. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside, there's a part of her wishing that what Leslie said is true. That Hitch is coming here more to see her than the kids.

Now she can't help wondering whether Hitch could be the one who left the chocolates and sent her the unsigned Valentine.

Maybe she should be hoping that's the case. After all, having Sam's old friend as a secret admirer might be a little awkward, but it certainly isn't threatening.

What about the phone call last night?

It didn't seem like a routine wrong number.

Nobody spoke.

But whoever it was seemed to listen for a few moments before hanging up.

Hitch would never call her in the middle of the night. He'd know how that would frighten her, and that it might wake the kids.

Rose frowns, troubled once again.

And now Hitch is taking Leo, and Leslie is taking Jenna, and she's facing a day alone in the house.

Or is she?

“Leslie,” she says suddenly, remembering. “Is Peter planning to stay here to work on the bookshelves today?”

Her sister-in-law nods. “He was. Why? Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all.”

Of course it isn't. She'll feel safe with Peter around.

Not that you shouldn't feel safe anyway.

“Are you okay, Rose?” Leslie asks.

“I'm fine. It's just . . .” She finds herself spilling the whole story. About the heart, the chocolates—which she's still fairly certain were placed on the car seat by Leo—and the telephone hang-up.

“It sounds like you've got a secret admirer.” Leslie grins. “And I'd be willing to bet that it's—”

“Who has a secret admirer?”

Startled, Rose turns to see both Hitch and Peter standing in the kitchen doorway. She was so caught up in unburdening herself on Leslie that she didn't even hear them come in the front door.

Leslie answers her fiancé's question. “Rose has a secret admirer.” She shoots a meaningful glance at Hitch as she adds, “And it's scaring her.”

“What's scaring her?” Hitch promptly appears concerned. “What's going on, Rose?”

Before she can answer, Leslie tells him, “He's been leaving her presents, and calling and hanging up.”

“Maybe he thinks that's romantic.”

“Oh, come on, Peter, there's nothing romantic about a coward.”

“A coward?” Her fiancé frowns. “I don't think that's—”

“If a grown man is interested in somebody, he should speak right up and say so. Beating around the bush is just . . . well, it's so junior high.”

“I'll keep that in mind, Les,” Peter says dryly. “Listen, Rose, Hitch is going to help me unload the truck.”

“That would be great. I guess you introduced yourselves, then.”

Hitch nods, accepting the steaming cup of coffee Rose hands him. “We thought we'd stack the lumber around back and cover it with a tarp to keep it dry.”

“That's fine,” Rose murmurs, hoping Hitch didn't pick up on Leslie's implication that he's her secret admirer.

Maybe it isn't that far-fetched a theory. He
is
shy, and he might not feel comfortable having feelings for his best friend's widow. Maybe this is his way of approaching her, bizarre as it seems.

“Mommy! “Jenna hollers from the living room. “Leo's outside in his pajamas!”

“What?” Rose
hurries into the next room, just in time to see her son guiltily scurry back up the front steps.

She opens the door and pulls him back into the house. “Leo, what are you doing? You know you're not allowed to—”

“I just wanted to check and see if it was snowing yet.”

“Leo, I told you, it's not going to snow today.” She shakes her head. “Don't you ever go outside on your own again, do you understand? Somebody could drive by and see a little boy out there and . . .”

She trails off, not wanting to scare him.

“And kidnap you,” Jenna supplies, her eyes still on the television. “Right, Mommy?”

Rose sighs. “Just don't ever go outside without asking first. Either of you. Got it? Leo?”

He nods.

“Jenna?”

“What?” She's not even listening, focused on Scooby and Shaggy chasing a headless ghost through an old mansion.

Rose exhales through puffed cheeks. It's so damned hard, doing this alone.

She leaves both children, duly warned, in front of the TV and retreats to the kitchen, where her three guests are discussing the bookshelves.

“Hey, Rose, mind if I grab some of that coffee?” Peter breaks off to ask.

“Oh, Peter, I'm sorry. Of course. I didn't even offer you any.”

“That's okay. I'm family. I can help myself.” He takes a mug from the cupboard.

Family.

Funny. She doesn't think of him that way.

But Leslie is Sam's sister. Peter is going to be the kids' uncle—and yes, Rose's brother-in-law—in a matter of months.