The Drake House (4 page)

“Don’t forget the nice new deputy,” Nancy chirped, not even bothering to hide her smirk now.

“He’s not nice. His name is Nick, and he’s not coming.”

Chuck made gushy noises. “Oooh, Trish has a date.”

Nancy pulled off her oven mitts and rushed to answer the doorbell. Chuck took that opportunity when Trisha was distracted to throw her over his shoulder, hauling her around the corner and into the living room.

God, anything to embarrass me.
“I am not a sack of potatoes! Put me down!” She checked desperately to make sure her skirt hadn’t hiked up to her waist, relieved it hadn’t. “I can fire you, you know.”

Chuck gripped her harder as she squirmed so she wouldn’t fall. His collar-length dishwater hair fell over his round cheeks as she thrashed. “That threat stopped working a long time ago.”

****

Nick entered the front door to Trisha’s house and stopped short. And to think, he wasn’t going to come. Three men stood in her living room—one with her over his shoulder. Her chestnut hair cascaded over her face as she squirmed. Long, shapely legs wrapped in black tights kicked playfully to be set free. This was a far cry from the woman he met earlier in the week.

“Did I come at a bad time?” he questioned carefully, figuring he was out numbered.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” the lady who answered the door chimed hospitably, reaching for his coat. “Let me take that. I’m Nancy. It’s nice to meet you.”

He passed her his coat without taking his eyes from Trisha. She was too striking to stop gawking at. He was too stunned to notice he was doing it. The hot pressure in his gut spread, familiar and unwanted. It meant trouble. Worse, it meant he was feeling.

Wayne stepped inside, handing Nancy his coat, and surveyed the situation. “Got yourself in a pickle, did you?” He chuckled and patted Nick on the back. “Don’t worry, son. It’s always like this around here.”

Trisha blew her hair out of her face and attempted to look up. “Oh, thank God, law enforcement’s here. Wayne, tell this animal to put me down.”

The guy holding her, not letting her budge from his shoulder, held out his free hand to Nick. “I’m Chuck, nice to meet you.”

Nick shook his hand with raised eyebrows. “Nick Mackey.”

An older gentleman held out his hand. “Eduardo. Nancy’s my wife.”

“Now that we all know each other,” Trisha said impatiently, “Can I get down?”

Chuck finally obliged and carefully set her down. When she swayed a little from the blood rushing from her head, Brad grabbed her arms at the same time everyone else reached for her. “Easy,” he cooed.

“I’m fine, thanks,” she said, obviously embarrassed.

Nick observed the interaction, thinking this Brad guy must be her husband. Aggravated by the swift disappointment, he turned to nod at Brad. “Nice to see you again.”

“Yeah,” was all Brad barked in return, still eyeing Trisha.

She pushed her hair out of her face only to display bright red cheeks. “I’m fine.” Trying her best not to appear irritated by Nick’s presence, she smiled thinly at him. “I didn’t think you were coming, Nick. Welcome to the zoo we call home.”

He watched as the large fellow who called himself Chuck whispered something in her ear. The smile wiped from her face as she slapped him on the arm. It took her all of two seconds to grin again. “Go on! Get out, boys. Go have fun!” Trisha turned to Brad with a stoic expression. “You don’t drink tonight; you’re driving. Take the van.”

“Okay, boss,” Chuck replied and hooted. The others followed him out the front door.

“Why don’t the rest of you head into the dining room? I’ll get dinner,” Nancy suggested while stepping out and not waiting for a reply.

Trisha looked at Wayne. “Did you find out anything regarding the note?”

Wayne shook his head. “Sorry, apple. No one’s fessing up. Should it happen again, don’t touch anything. I might be able to send it out for prints.”

Nodding, she wrapped her arms around Wayne and kissed his cheek. “Come on, Nancy made pot roast.”

Nick trotted silently behind them through a massive living room and to the dining room. Throughout dinner, he learned Chuck and Eduardo worked for Trisha on the orchard, along with seven other men. Nancy was her cook and housekeeper. Though Trisha signed the paychecks, there was much more than that at Eaton’s Orchard. They were family.

Most intriguing of all, he learned Trisha was not, in fact, married, and Brad worked for her as well—though they must have a history of some kind. Brad was very territorial of her. His cop instincts told him to wave clear of that. The man in him saw it as a challenge. Nick supposed he was always up for a good challenge. At least he used to be.

Her home was cozy and inviting. The dining room was spacey enough to fit all the workmen at the table, and he assumed, by how secure they were, they did share meals together. The kitchen off of the dining room was roomy, and though all the appliances were modern, she made them fit in well with the country décor. He imagined Nancy and Trisha chatting over coffee late at night at the small table there.

He expected her living room would smell like cinnamon. Of course, he couldn’t smell a damn thing, but her house seemed like the type of place that would always smell like something comforting. The large red brick fireplace gave off a warm glow. She had mocha-colored wainscoting walls which he wondered if she antiqued herself. Deep plush chairs in burgundy, cream, and forest green were placed throughout the room and accented by dark walnut tables. The hardwood floors looked original and in good shape under the area rug. Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the wall where the stairs to the second floor began and were filled with a variety of materials ranging from fertilizing to mystery novels.

He sat on the blue and cream plaid print couch and reached out for the coffee Nancy held for him. “Thanks.”

“Dinner was delicious, Nancy,” Wayne chimed as he rubbed his jolly belly. “I must come more often.”

“Come any time you want, old man,” Trisha said with a fond and relaxed smile. She kicked off her black clog shoes and curled up in the burgundy chair with her coffee.

The firelight brought out all the glorious red highlights in her hair. Amazed that he could see colors more vividly with her around, Nick turned to Nancy sitting beside him. Miss Eaton was going to be nothing but a headache. “Dinner was delicious, thank you.”
Though I can’t taste anything, I’ll assume it was great.

She smiled warmly and patted his knee. “Anytime.” She nailed her gaze at Trisha. “That’s the last cup of coffee for you,
chica
.”

Trisha rolled her eyes in what Nick learned was a common gesture and replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

Wayne appeared concerned, but to Nick it radiated politeness. “Are you still not sleeping?”

Before she could open her mouth to respond, Nancy was piping up, her voice forced. “Oh, she sleeps all right. If she’s not waking up screaming, she’s walking around in a daze.” Nancy then whipped Nick an apologetic look as if just remembering he was there.

Trisha rubbed her forehead, completely embarrassed if her red cheeks were any indication.
So, she is a private person
, he thought. She didn’t want others seeing her flaws. He could relate to that.

“Nick, let’s go for a walk,” Trisha suggested. “I’ll show you the grounds while they discuss my not so interesting sleep patterns.”

Unsure why, as the last thing he wanted was to be alone with Trisha Eaton, he obliged and stood up. Setting his coffee down on the table, he grabbed their coats from near the front door and followed her out the back way through the kitchen.

Nick walked silently with Trisha behind the house. She had a maze of flower beds strategically placed throughout the yard. Some tulips and daffodils were poking up through the ground between soon-to-be flowering bushes, and he imagined in summer how beautiful her gardens must be. Wrought iron benches with ivy patterns lined the walkway with stepping stones and small solar-powered lanterns to show the way. The woman had impeccable taste.

Eaton’s Apple Orchard was nothing short of magnificent. To be polite, Nick had asked Steve about the orchard before coming tonight. Forty-year-old trees bloomed Redfree apples, medium-sized and bright red in color. They staked their reputation on being fresh and hand-picked, a family business for over thirty-five years. Their product was distributed all over parts of the Midwest.

She pointed straight ahead. “Those two buildings over there are the staff quarters. Nancy and Eduardo stay with me, but the rest live back there.”

Once through the garden, she veered them to the right. “That’s the shed where most of the equipment is. It’s a long way to walk back there so we’ll just head to the orchard.”

He continued to follow in her wake, impressed. “How many acres do you have?”

She peered over and smiled in his direction, causing his stomach to clench. He realized she hadn’t smiled at him unless out of sarcasm. He kinda liked it.

No, no, no
. And there it came. The swift rush of pain that always followed a moment of pleasure. There hadn’t been many things he took pleasure in since the accident, but the brutal sting like clockwork came, reminding him he didn’t have a right to happiness. He was here in this town to get well, to quiet his life down. Nothing more.

He swallowed and took a deep breath. Trisha hadn’t seemed to notice.

“A little over eighty acres, including the houses and orchard,” she answered his earlier question with evident pride. Her voice was inviting when she wasn’t mad at him. Like hot cocoa on a frigid day.

“You should smile more often,” he claimed quietly, glancing ahead at the orchard approaching.

She halted abruptly and tilted her head as if contemplating how to respond. “I smile all the time,” she said. No hint of irritation now.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I meant at me. You should smile like that more often at me.”

He couldn’t believe he said it. There was a very long awkward silence as she studied him, brown eyes widened. Talk about feeling like an idiot. Finally, she let out a laugh, smooth and rich from someone so small. She wove her arm through his affectionately like he’d seen her do with Wayne and kept walking. “Give me a reason to and I just might.”

“I’ll take it into consideration,” he mumbled. He already had. From the first moment he walked into her house tonight, he’d been considering her. Before really, but why argue semantics.

“The orchard covers the entire west area of the grounds. I don’t have walking shoes on or I’d show you more.”

“That’s all right,” he answered. “Where’s the Drake house?”

Once again, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes grew wide with amusement. “So, you know about the place we do not speak of.” She chuckled and pointed through the rows of apple trees. “See where my trees stop and the forest begins? It’s over there.”

“So, tell me, what’s the big secret?” he asked, testing how open she was willing to be. No one else was.

“Well, rumor has it Alexandra Drake was stood up at the altar by her true love. In response, she secluded herself in a great house, surrounded by trees, out of view from the outside world. She vowed to never come out and cursed all who entered her world. Some say she was a witch, others that she was a dangerous murderer.” Trisha began heading toward her house, leading Nick as she went. “I was very young when she died, but I remember people were not nice to her. I only saw her the one time, and she just looked sad to me. I don’t know how she died, probably of loneliness, but the county owns the property now. No one disturbs it. There’s lots of superstition in this town.”

“You don’t seem the superstitious type to me.”

She stepped onto her porch as he followed. “I’m not. But I do have to admit, I get strange feelings when I—”

The front door opened, cutting her off, and Brad poked his head out. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, eyeing the two of them.

He didn’t look sorry.

Trisha gestured for Nick to follow her into the house. “You’re back early,” she said to Brad, stripping off her coat. “Oh, my, what happened?” she exclaimed, examining Brad’s bloody knuckle.

Yeah, definitely a past between these two.

Before Brad could answer, she was tugging him through the entryway, living room, and into the kitchen to run his hand under water.

Nick sat at the table out of the way and watched as she cleaned Brad’s knuckle.

“Bar fight,” Brad uttered, his tone gruff.

Trisha clucked her tongue. “Idiot.”

“Eduardo’s upstairs with Nancy. He’s got a black eye,” Wayne informed, entering the room. “Can’t let you boys go anywhere.”

Brad winced as she dried his hand. “Nick, can you go in my bathroom over there?” Trish asked. “There’s gauze and tape above the sink.”

“It’s fine,” Brad claimed.

Nick did as asked, returning swiftly so she could finish bandaging.

“What was it this time?” she asked Brad softly.

If Nick didn’t know any better, he’d swear they were in love. There was trust, worry, and understanding between them. But, at dinner, she claimed they were best friends and he worked for her. Nick wasn’t buying it. And no way was he getting in the middle of it.

“Some moron made reference to you being up here alone with all these men and I started punching.” Brad answered.

“It wasn’t about…?”

Brad shook his head, barely a movement really, causing Trisha to sigh.

What’s that about
?

“Idiot,” Trisha clenched again and sighed harshly.

Wayne sat down across from Nick at the table and chuckled. “Be lucky I wasn’t there, son. I’d have put you in lock up for drunk and disorderly.”

“I wasn’t drinking.”

Trisha smacked him upside his head. “You don’t need to drink. You’re already an idiot without being intoxicated.”

Brad’s eyes flared. Nick stood to intervene out of instinct, knowing what a look like that meant, when Wayne put a hand on his arm. Leaning over he whispered, “Watch this.” Reluctantly, Nick sat back down.