The Ugly Truth (11 page)

She gave me a hard narrow-eyed glaring stab. “He’s not a nice person.”

“I get it.”

She continued to scrutinize my face for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’m planning to do a bunch of stuff with the squad tomorrow anyway.” She narrowed her eyes and gave me a you’re-so-missing-out-but-whatever look. “I know you don’t want to spend time with a bunch of ex-cheerleaders.”

“Not so much.”

“Still interested in the craft fair Friday afternoon?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She smiled and went back to untangling her shiny golden mane. I grabbed my stuff and headed for a cold shower.

****

I sat on the back porch again that evening, but I didn’t see anything resembling a bear, Bigfoot, or Great Dane in a china shop. I did have an interesting conversation with a squirrel. Yeah, I said conversation, and no, squirrels in Ugly Creek don’t speak English. At least I don’t think they do.

This one came right up on the top step and stood there looking at me. I happened to be munching on some truly awesome peanut butter cookies á la Margaret, and I got the feeling that Mr. Squirrel thought I was being pretty selfish. I tried to ignore him, but he pulled out his arsenal of cute, and I finally gave in and scooted a bit of cookie his way. He picked it up, stood holding it while looking at me, and I knew as well as if he’d spoken that he was telling me, “Just how am I supposed to feed my wife and kids with this tiny little piece.”

I tried to explain cookies were fattening, but he only narrowed his cute little eyes. Finally I caved and slid a whole cookie across the porch. As soon as I did, I realized the creature wouldn’t be able to carry such a huge bounty. That cookie was enormous compared to his tiny little body. I wondered if he would let me break it up.

He was gone. And so was the cookie. I’d been looking at him the whole time, apparently he’d moved when I blinked. I shook my head and chuckled at the whole episode. It seemed even the squirrels in this town were weird.

I picked up my plate and turned to go into the house. I’d opened the door when I heard a rustling behind me. I turned and squinted into the darkness, but I didn’t see anything. Probably it was my buddy the cookie-mooching squirrel climbing a tree. Although it had sounded like a larger creature.

A bit spooked, I went into the house. I couldn’t resist one last, lingering look out into the dark yard. I thought I saw movement by a huge oak tree, but when I didn’t see anything else, I decided it had to be my imagination.

If there was a Bigfoot out there, he or she wasn’t going to let me know about it.

A big yawn reminded me I had to get up early in the morning, so I locked the door, rinsed my dishes, and headed up the stairs. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Jake. Really I wasn’t. I just wanted to be ready for anything.

Because there’s no telling what might happen in Ugly Creek.

Chapter 9

Madison was still in bed when Margaret and I headed to work. Margaret’s car, believe it or not, was a red Mustang convertible. She called it her “bad girl” car and was obviously very proud. We rode with the top down, cool air sweeping over us, my wild hair getting wilder by the mile. It was so much fun I actually forgot momentarily I was headed to town to work for a sexy...I mean, an obnoxious, pain-in-the-backside man.

To keep that thought in check, I decided the drive time could be useful for uncovering long buried, but still fascinating secrets. “I’ll bet Maddie was an interesting kid.”

That’s all it took to start the stories flowing. There were tales of stealth tree climbing and compulsory Barbie doll swapping, but the best was the one about the permanent marker tattoos Madison, Liza, and Jake gave each other on their faces and arms.

“It took weeks for the ink to wear off,” Margaret said, laughing.

“Sounds like they had a lot of fun growing up,” I said.

“It was almost like they were three parts of a whole,” Margaret said. “It’s a shame they’re not close anymore.”

That would have been the perfect opportunity to ask pertinent questions, but unfortunately we’d reached our destination and Margaret pulled her car behind the store into a lot I didn’t even know existed. Jake’s green truck was already there. Great.

Margaret used her key to unlock the back door, which led into a storeroom. A huge cappuccino-color dog that looked a bit like a retriever, but had definite German shepherd markings on his face, greeted us. “Good morning, Dingo,” Margaret said, giving the dog a good head scratch.
Dingo?

He came over to me, and I held out my hand so he could sniff it. Seemingly satisfied with what he smelled on me, Dingo flopped down at my feet.

I sat on my heels, and the dog rolled over onto his back. Laughing, I gave him the belly scratching he was so obviously asking for. One back leg thumped air, and the look on his face reminded me of Maddie when she ate Godiva chocolate.

“Oh great, somebody else to spoil the mutt.”

I bit my lip to hold the smile down to a minimum. “He needed a belly scratch.”

Jake sat on his heels on the other side of Dingo. “
Needed
, huh?”

“Yep.”

Jake ruffled the top of the dog’s head. “You’re a con artist, Dingo.”

“Maybe so,” I said, “but he’s a gorgeous one. Aren’t you, boy?”

The dog licked my arm.

Jake laughed. “I give up.”

I hate to admit it, but Jake’s closeness was causing tingles in interesting places, like between my legs. I was a horrible friend. “How long have you had him?” I asked, and hoped to give myself a moment to beat my traitorous body into submission.

“About two years. A friend of mine, Ace, the guy who usually does my photography, rescues dogs. Anyway, Ace had this fellow. It was love at first sight, wasn’t it, boy?”

Dingo licked his master’s hand, and the smile that crossed Jake’s face was pure affection. Okay, I’ll admit I was just a hair jealous. Why can’t I find a man who appreciates my touch?

I pulled myself to my feet. “Speaking of job, I guess I’d better get to mine.”

Jake stood too. “Just let me take Trouble, I mean Dingo, upstairs and I’ll show you what I need you to do. There’s coffee if you want some.”

I grabbed a Styrofoam cup of hot liquid, poured in a pack of sugar, and wandered out into the main area of the shop. Once again I was swept away by the displayed antiques. Beauty and history, what an amazing combination.

I set my cup down on the counter and went over to a nearby table where a beautiful china doll sat in a little, handmade wooden chair. With the very tips of my fingers I gently touched the doll’s face. “Gorgeous,” I breathed.

“She is, isn’t she?”

I smiled toward Margaret, who sat on a stool at the counter and sipped her own cup of coffee. “Yes,” I said. “She really is.”

I went back to where I’d left my cup and climbed onto the other stool. “This place is incredible.”

She smiled, and I saw pride in her eyes. “Jake has done quite well with his little store, in spite of everything.”

Well, that had my curiosity jumping up and down. “Everything?”

She glanced toward the back before she answered. “Not only was he burned severely in the fire, his leg was crushed also. It was weeks before they even attempted to repair the damage, because he wasn’t strong enough to withstand the surgery.”

“Wow. He doesn’t even have a limp.”

“He worked very hard at physical therapy.” She licked her lips. “Actually, he works hard at everything he does. Which of course, his father doesn’t see.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “His father is still upset Jake didn’t use his business degree in some big prestigious firm. But he wanted to stay here in Ugly Creek and open his own shop.”

There was a noise from the back, and we both turned to see Jake come into the shop carrying a big box. “Margaret, would you start inventory of the Barinski items while I show Stephie what I need her to do?”

“No problem, boss.”

He sat the box on the counter and gave Margaret a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a gem.”

“Nah, I’m just a good gofer.” She stuck her front teeth out in imitation of a gopher.

“You’re not a gopher, you’re a nut.”

She grinned over her shoulder as she dug into the contents of the box.

Jake motioned for me. “Come on and I’ll show you what I need photographed.”

First up was a gorgeous chair with intricately carved armrests and legs.

I gently ran a finger over the polished wood. “Incredible craftsmanship,” I whispered.

“You have a good eye. This chair was locally made in the late 1800s.”

I sucked in air. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, I don’t joke about things like that.” His fingers caressed the edge where fabric met polished wood. “It hasn’t even been recovered.”

My heart and lungs stalled for long enough to make me see black spots. “That’s the original fabric?”

He nodded. “This chair came from an estate sale. An old man passed away, and this chair was in the collection. From what his son told me, it had belonged to the old man’s grandfather. It’s certainly been well cared for.”

I stared at him, feeling my eyes widen in utter disbelief. “The son didn’t keep it?”

Anger passed over Jake’s face. “I asked him if he was sure he wanted to sell it. He said it wouldn’t work with his décor.”

Paralyzing shock held me for a long moment, before tears inexplicitly filled my eyes. I looked toward the chair to keep Jake from seeing. “If I had this gorgeous piece, I’d build my décor around
it
.”

A gentle hand touched my shoulder. “Me too. In fact, I’m considering not selling it.”

Gladness filled my heart at the thought. He would care for the chair, enjoy it, treasure it. My fingers moved across the gently rough fabric.

“Of course, I want to keep a lot of things. I have to be pretty selective, or I’d have a house I couldn’t walk through and an empty bank account.”

I glanced his way. He was looking at the chair with an expression of awe. I felt my heart connect with his. “If I owned a store like this, I’d have the same problem.”

He gave me an odd little look, almost as if he’d forgotten I was there. “Go ahead and take pictures of the chair, and I’ll make my mind up later.”

I nodded, and he walked me around the store to show me the other history-laden treasures he wanted me to photograph. We barely looked at each other and our speech was professional and bland. I knew we were both fighting another connection like the one over the chair. Maybe if we were simply two people who happened to meet and bond over antiques, perhaps then things would be different. But life was complicated, so we forced ourselves to be distant and cool.

Until we got to the cedar chest in the corner.

Inside were the most beautiful clothes I’ve ever seen. There were two 1920s’ flapper era dresses, one green and one black; a 1950s’ white poodle skirt, with an actual poodle appliqué, and a timeless party dress in soft, lacy violet. That one had me gasping. Actually, I think I drooled a little.

“Like it, huh?”

I surreptitiously wiped my mouth. I couldn’t resist holding the party dress up in front of me. “It’s amazing.” I glanced back at the other clothes. “All of this is.”

It was quiet, so I glanced Jake’s way. He was watching me; his head leaned slightly to one side, his expression soft, his lips turned up in a gentle smile. “You know, I don’t usually handle clothing. The chest and contents came from an estate sale. I took it all, sight unseen.”

I looked down at the soft fabric swirling around my legs. “What are you going to do with these?”

“I was going to find somebody to take them off my hands.” His shoulders moved in an almost shrug. “You know, I could pay in merchandise.”

It took a moment for the significance of his words to sink into my awe-soaked brain. “Pay? With
this
?” I held up the dress.

His smile widened. “Actually, I was thinking the chest and its contents.”

Air sucked into my lungs and refused to go back out. “All of it?” I gasped.

“You’d actually be doing me a favor taking it off my hands.”

Yeah, right, and the moon is mozzarella. But hey, if he was willing I wasn’t going to complain. “Well, if it would be helpful.”

The varmint actually chuckled. “Stephie, one of the best things about being an antiques dealer is seeing beautiful things find homes with people who will appreciate and enjoy them.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Thank you for helping me with the pictures.”

“You’re welcome.” As I stood looking at him, the warmth in his eyes radiated my body and sent feverish prickling up and down my arms. How could he have this effect on me? He wasn’t a nice man. Maddie didn’t like him.

Then again, her mother worked for him. And liked him. So, he couldn’t be that bad. Could he?

Confusion swirled in my head. For a moment I wasn’t even sure who I was. Where I was. What planet I was on?

What was that tinkling noise?

“Hello, Margaret.”

“Good morning, Aunt Octavia. How are you?”

Oh boy. Margaret. She’d been right there all this time, watching me stare cow-eyed at her daughter’s sworn enemy. And now Aunt Octavia was there too. What was I thinking? Actually, the answer was pretty simple. My brain was currently non-operational.

“I need to see Aunt Octavia,” I blurted, and hurried toward the front of the store. What I saw had me frozen in mid-step. The cute, tiny, salt and pepper haired woman had turned into a miniature biker babe complete with boots, black jeans, a tie-dyed T-shirt, and a black leather jacket.

She waved her hand to indicate her clothing. “Do you like my outfit? I decided to ride my Harley today.”

“You have a Harley?”

“Hell yes, there ain’t no other bike.”

My mouth worked like a fish gasping for water. “I mean…I…” Like I said, brain non-operational.

“Oh, my. Your auras are in tune.”

She was looking at me, and behind me. Oh great.

“So what does that mean, Aunt Octavia?” Jake asked.