Prince Charming Wears a Badge (16 page)

When they finished their coffee, they left for the diner. Tyler had mentioned his impression of what Norma would look like based on talking to her on the phone, so when they saw a woman matching that description sitting in a booth, they approached her.

“Norma?” Tyler asked.

The older woman dunking a tea bag into her cup of hot water shook her head. “Nope.”

“I'm sorry to disturb you, ma'am.” Tyler turned to Callie. “Everyone else in here is male or with a man. It's seat yourself, so let's get a table and Norma will find us. She'll know me by my uniform.”

“And you're looking pretty darn sexy in it, too,” Callie said just loud enough for him to hear.

He chuckled and put a hand on her lower back. Callie pointed to a table where they'd be seen by anyone coming in through the door.

They ordered coffee, which arrived just as a tall woman, probably close to six feet, with dark gray hair and a prominent limp, came directly to their table. “Chief Garrett?” She put her hand out to him. “I'm Norma Wilson.” She was nothing like Tyler had guessed.

Tyler rose as they shook hands. “Have a seat.” He gestured to Callie. “This is Callie James.” Norma shook Callie's hand and sat.

The woman got right down to business. “So tell me what you'd like to teach my girls.”

Callie swallowed. “Well, I don't have any experience teaching, but I'm very successful in the financial world. I'm good at what I do.”

“Yes, I did a search on you last night. You're very respected in your field.”

Callie nodded. “Thank you.” She took a breath. “I'll teach whatever the women need. From the basics of a checking account to saving for retirement. Whatever they'd like to learn about.”

Norma's head bobbed in agreement. “Good, good. I was hoping you'd be open and not stuck on teaching what you thought they
should
learn. We have women from all different backgrounds at the shelter. From high school dropouts to women with post-graduate degrees.”

They spoke for a few more minutes, Norma wanting to know specifics about times.

Tyler piped up. “I would expect that the classes would take prep time that Callie could do either at home or at your shelter.” He looked at Callie. “That time would certainly be counted against your service hours.”

“Oh! I nearly forgot.” Norma looked at Callie. “That's what I wanted to know. What is it that you did to be given the service hours? I couldn't find anything online about it, and I can't have you coming into contact with these women if you've done something to hurt someone or anything of that nature.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Callie told her as calmly as she could. “My ex-boyfriend accused me of breaking an expensive vase of his. I assure you I didn't do it on purpose, and I'm almost certain I didn't accidentally knock it over, either. But I took a plea deal rather than go to trial because he has a so-called witness, and I had no way to prove my innocence.”

“I see.” Norma paused. “And you have no other incidences of violence? No one who might follow you to the shelter for any reason?”

Callie shook her head. “None.”

Norma put out her hand. “Then I'll see you tomorrow morning at ten? The women are assigned chores like laundry but by ten they should be able to attend your class if they choose.” She put a finger to her lips and furrowed her brow. “Do you think it would be possible to have an evening class, too?”

Callie looked to Tyler and they both shrugged. “I don't see why not.”

“That would be spectacular. Several of the women have day jobs so an evening class would benefit them.”

After Norma left the diner, Tyler said, “You didn't mention what you just went through with your dad and stepmother when Norma asked about incidences of violence. Or about Wendy. She's shown up twice now unexpectedly.”

“I didn't think they counted. I thought she meant things I'd initiated.”

Tyler shrugged one shoulder and changed the subject slightly, filling her in on the search of shelters for her stepsister's whereabouts. “I know you told me you didn't tell your therapist about what happened when you had dinner with your dad.” He paused. “But I really do think it would be good to talk it through with him.”

“There's really nothing to talk through. It's over. I don't want to relive it.”

“I get that. But why don't you tell him about it, anyway, so he can decide if there's more to discuss?”

She sighed. “Maybe. I don't know.” She took a sip of her now-cold coffee. “I'm not sure what good it would do to divulge it.”

Judging from Tyler's near silence for several minutes and on the drive back to Poppy's, Callie was pretty sure he wasn't thrilled with her answer.

But she did what had worked for her entire life—kept quiet and avoided an argument.

* * *

T
HINGS
WERE
PRETTY
uncomfortable between Tyler and Callie on their drive to Aunt Poppy's. Unlike most women he knew, she tended to shut down when faced with a conflict. Not that he'd helped the situation by remaining silent himself, but he didn't know what to say. She obviously didn't want to talk to anyone about what had happened with her stepmother. And that included both him and her therapist, who could probably be a huge help to her if she let him.

Tyler drove to the police station after dropping off Callie at his aunt's, anxious to see what information Donna had for him about Wendy. “Whatcha' got for me?” he asked as he stopped in front of her desk.

She smiled at him. “Hopefully all the information you wanted.” She pulled a legal tablet from her top desk drawer and began reciting what she'd learned. “Wendy was an employee of the town of Whittler's Creek for just under a year. She resigned abruptly about two weeks ago.”

“Resigned? She wasn't fired?”

Donna shook her head. “Not from what I found, but I didn't speak to her superior. She might have a different story.”

Tyler nodded. “Right. Maybe she was given the choice of resigning or being fired. Resigning looks better when you're applying for your next job. What else did you find out? What was her exact job?”

“Turns out that she did
not
have check-writing authority. Her job was an entry-level position. Filing, copying, whatever needed to be done.”

“Damn. I was counting on her being the one who wrote the checks that her husband allegedly cashed.” Tyler had provided Donna with just enough details so she had a better understanding of what information was important.

“I know. There were two people in her office with check-writing authority. One was Wendy's boss, Michelle Bloom, and the other was James Brack, the town's financial officer. It takes both of them to authorize checks, so I'm not sure how this could have happened unless they're both in on it.”

“I doubt it. I don't know anything about Michelle, but Jim Brack is a respected businessman. He's got a thriving insurance office besides being the town's financial officer.”

“And I doubt Michelle has anything to do with it, either. We sing in the church choir together and I can't imagine her being involved in embezzlement.”

Tyler shrugged. “Sometimes the people who look most innocent are the most guilty.”

“That's true, but depressing.” The phone on Donna's desk rang and she answered it.

Meanwhile, Tyler went into his office to figure out his next move. He picked up the phone and called Jim Brack first.

“Good morning, Mr. Brack. This is Chief Tyler Garrett. I was hoping to ask you a few questions about some checks that you authorized as Whittler's Creek's financial officer.”

“Sure, Chief. Is there a problem?”

Tyler didn't want to divulge too much at this point. “Just checking up on something.”

“Okay. What do you need from me?”

“Do you remember authorizing checks to be written to a Pullman Corporation?”

“That's hard to say off the top of my head. I can't remember every check exactly.”

“I understand. These checks were issued once a week for about six months. The last one was authorized approximately two weeks ago.”

“Pullman Corporation? Like the sleeping cars? It only sounds familiar because of the name. I think I would have remembered it because of that but I don't.” Jim Brack paused. “If you pull the authorizations, I can tell you if it's my signature or not.”

“I'll do that.” The two men disconnected and Tyler gave Donna another job to do.

While she took care of retrieving the authorizations, Tyler debated another problem. After mulling it over for quite a while, he searched his email and came up with the phone number he needed.

“Hello, Dr. Hammond. This is Police Chief Tyler Garrett from Whittler's Creek. You turned Callie James's community service hours over to me.”

“Yes, yes, how's it going?”

Tyler filled the therapist in on what Callie had been doing and what was planned for what would probably be her final service hours.

“That's great,” Dr. Hammond said. “It sounds like things are going well there.”

“Well, yes and no.” Tyler took a deep breath and began relating the events of the other night involving Callie and her dad and stepmother.

“I had no idea.” Dr. Hammond sounded stunned. “She never mentioned a word.”

“That's why I'm calling. She doesn't think telling you is important and I doubt she'll say a word unless you bring it up.”

“You do realize that now I'll have to let her know that I'm aware of what happened?”

“I understand. I should also tell you about her reaction when we went back to her dad's house for her car. In her mind, she was back in the house as a child, remembering how she was treated.”

“And how was that?”

Tyler hesitated. He'd only meant to tell Dr. Hammond enough so he'd ask Callie questions. “I think that's up to her to tell you.”

“I understand. She's told me some of what went on, but I thought there was more.” Dr. Hammond cleared his throat. “You seem very concerned about Callie.”

“I am. She's been through a lot.”

“It sounds like the two of you have developed a personal relationship. I hope it won't interfere in your duty to the court.”

“Not at all. Callie and I went to high school together, so we already knew each other.” He wouldn't divulge anything more that might hurt Callie's situation.

She was already upset with him and she wouldn't feel any better when she discovered what he'd just told her therapist.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“A
UNT
P
OPPY
!
A
UNT
P
OPPY
!
”

She spun around in front of the stove. Madison and Alexis had run into the kitchen. Their faces were flushed and they were dancing around.

“What is it, girls?”

“There's a man at the door with something really special for you.” Madison was breathless.

Poppy furrowed her brow. “For me?” She wasn't expecting anything. Maybe she'd ordered something online and didn't recall. She turned down the burner on the stove and wiped her hands on a towel before heading to the front door.

There stood a man with a bouquet of flowers. A
huge
bouquet. “Mrs. Poppy Thompson?” he asked.

“Ye-yes.” She'd never seen so many red roses at once.

The delivery man put the flowers in her arms and left before she could even form the words
thank you
.

“They're beautiful, aren't they, Aunt Poppy?” The girls had followed her to the door and were now jumping up to smell the flowers, one on each side of her.

“Yes, they're beautiful.” She was in a fog, possibly because of the overpowering fragrance coming from the roses—and from the surprise of their arrival. “We should get these into water.” She wasn't even sure she had anything large enough to hold them all. “We might have to divide them into two vases.”

By the time she and the girls got the flowers—three dozen by Poppy's count—into vases, the girls were off to their room. Poppy had given them each a single rose and a narrow vase to keep next to their beds.

She was cleaning up the counter when she spied an envelope near the kitchen door. It must have fallen and she hadn't noticed it.

She picked it up, sure it would say the flowers were from Gino. Who else could it be? Though the note would be in someone else's handwriting because he'd probably called in the order.

Instead she recognized Gino's handwriting immediately. His nearly illegible scrawl was difficult to read, but she could tell he'd tried his best.

My Dearest Poppy,

These roses have nothing on your beauty, my love. Please accept this small token as an apology for hurting you. You mean the world to me and I can't go on without you in my life.

All my love,

Gino

By the end of the note, Poppy could barely see through the tears in her eyes.

“I'm glad you got the flowers.”

She whirled around to see Gino standing in the kitchen doorway.

She swallowed her emotions, but her words came out choppy. “They're beautiful. Thank you.”

He nodded and began speaking in a serious tone. “I know calla lilies are your favorite, but red roses signify love. And showing you how much I love you was my goal. That's why there were three dozen roses. One for our past, one for our present, one for the wonderful future I anticipate we'll have together.” He cleared his throat. “I was hoping the flowers would be the beginning of my apology and that you'd agree to spend the evening with me.”

“Gino—”

He held up a hand to stop her. “I know you're still mad at me. I've had a lot of time to think about how to make things right between us. I might have an idea that could work.” He paused. “If you're willing to listen.”

She loved this man with all her heart. The past few days had been torture. She owed it to herself—and to him—to hear him out. “I'm willing to listen.”

Gino let out a huge sigh. “Thank you. I wasn't sure what I'd do next if you said no.”

“I'm only agreeing to hear you out. This doesn't mean everything is okay between us.”

Gino nodded. “I understand.” He reached for her hand and she allowed it. “I appreciate the opportunity to make things right.”

“So now what?” she asked.

Gino smiled. “Now you finish making that dinner so everyone else can eat. And as soon as Tyler gets home to be with the girls, you and I are going to dinner.”

“You're in luck. I'm free tonight.” Poppy touched her hair and realized she had no makeup on. “I need time to get ready. I must look a fright.”

Gino took a step closer. “You look beautiful.” He touched her cheek. “But if you insist, go get ready and I'll finish dinner.”

Poppy laughed. “You cook? That's a good one.”

“Yes, I know how to cook.” He shrugged. “Okay, a little. I'm not great, but I can get by.” He looked at what she'd been preparing. “So what do I do with this?”

She chuckled and nudged him aside before explaining how to finish the meal in the oven. “I shouldn't be too long. Just let me know if you need help.”

“Go! I can handle this.”

Poppy hurried upstairs. She wasn't sure what to wear to dinner. She should have asked Gino. Pretty sure he wouldn't be changing out of his gray slacks, white dress shirt sans tie and black sport coat, she dressed accordingly.

“You are stunning,” Gino told her a short time later when she met him at the bottom of the stairs.

Her face heated at his compliment. She'd chosen black pants and a teal blouse that she knew nicely accented her coloring. “Thank you.”

Tyler's voice, as well as his daughters' giggles, could be heard in the kitchen. “Sounds like the girls are taken care of.”

Gino nodded and offered his bent arm. “Are you ready to go?”

She took his arm and they left the house. All the while she wondered what his solution might be.

“I thought we were going to dinner,” Poppy said when Gino pulled into the parking lot behind the Lincoln Hotel. She tensed at the mere sight of the building.

Gino pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. “We are. Just wait and you'll see what I have planned.”

She did as he requested, hoping it was the right decision. They walked into the hotel through the unlocked front door.

“Don't you keep the building locked?” she asked. “What if someone found out and decided to come in here and cause damage? You know there are people out there who do things like that.”

Gino laughed. “I know, I know. Don't worry. I keep the building locked when no one's here.” He winked. “But the building isn't empty.”

He guided her to the elevator and pressed the up button. Poppy was more confused than ever. Was he going to give her a tour of a construction zone? Should they be wearing hard hats?

She remained silent on the elevator ride while Gino hummed to himself and then smiled at her when the slow-moving elevator finally came to a grinding halt. They had arrived on the fourth level, which was the top floor of the hotel.

Gino exited first, putting his arm out to keep the elevator doors from shutting while Poppy disembarked. They walked down a hallway that looked like a typical hotel corridor until they reached a steel door with a sign that read Stairway on it. Gino opened the door and invited her through.

“I'm afraid there's no elevator to where we're headed,” he told Poppy. “But it's just one flight up.”

Poppy was hesitant, knowing the building only had four floors. “Are we going to the roof?”

Gino grinned. “You'll see.” Again, he offered her his bent elbow and the two of them ascended one more flight.

What she saw when she stepped onto the roof made her gasp. There were white lights strung from everywhere, barely visible even though the sun had already set behind the large trees on the west side of the building. In the middle of the area was a round table, set for two with fine china and crystal on top of a floor-length, white-linen tablecloth. On either side, two chairs were covered in matching white linen. Soft music played, nearly drowning out the noise of the cars going by on the street below.

“What is all this?” she asked.

“This is all for you,” he replied. “Come, have a seat.” He stepped quickly to the table and pulled out a chair for her.

She walked hesitantly to where he waited, in awe of the trouble he'd gone to. She sat and he took the seat across from her.

“Champagne?” He lifted a chilled bottle from a standing silver wine cooler beside him.

“Okay.” She felt tongue-tied and off balance. As if this was a movie set or maybe she was dreaming.

Gino poured them each a glass of the pale fizzy liquid and he lifted his glass in a toast. “To us.”

Poppy froze. “I thought you brought me here to tell me about some compromise.” She gestured to their surroundings. “A romantic interlude like this isn't a compromise. I can't drink a toast to us. Not with the way things are right now.” She put her glass down on the table and was about to push her chair back to leave.

“Wait, wait!” Gino cried. “Let me explain.”

She stayed where she was, waiting for him to do just that.

“I got ahead of myself,” he said. “I'll save that toast for later.” He seemed jittery, not quite himself. He was usually so calm, so in charge. He held up his glass again and looked her in the eye. “Cheers!”

She smiled slightly. She couldn't help it. She held up her glass and repeated his toast, “Cheers!” They lightly touched their glasses together and each took a sip.

“Would you like to begin with appetizers?” Gino had his phone out. “I only need to send a text and they'll be delivered.”

“You've gone to a lot of trouble,” she said. “And a little food sounds wonderful.” She didn't want the champagne to go straight to her head.

“Good.” He sent a text and then put his phone down. He reached for her hand. “Any effort it took to put this all together was worth it.
You're
worth it.” He squeezed her hand and she squeezed his back.

“Thank you.” She took a sip of her champagne. “Now, can we talk about this compromise?” She wasn't about to let him suck her in with a little wine and ambience.

Gino sighed. “If you insist.”

Just then the door opened and two men in black pants and crisp white shirts stepped onto the roof. They carried trays and a folding stand that they placed next to the table.

One server pointed to a platter. “These are coconut shrimp.” He pointed to another platter. “These are crab-stuffed mushrooms, and the ones on this plate are bacon-wrapped dates with a chutney and honey dipping sauce.” He gave them each a small plate.

“Thank you,” Gino told them. “Everything looks delicious.”

The men gave a slight bow and left the rooftop.

They served themselves, tasting everything, and Gino spent an inordinate amount of time talking about the appetizers until she finally stopped him. “You're avoiding the real subject,” she reminded him.

“You're right,” he admitted freely. “I am.” He was quiet for several seconds. “I just want to do this right.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do what right?”

As soon as he got up from his seat and reached into his pocket, she knew what he intended. Her blood pressure rose and her pulse pounded in her temples. “Stop right now.”

He halted midstride.

She continued to speak. “If you're about to do what I think you are, then don't.”

“But, Poppy—” He'd pulled a small black box from his pocket.

She shook her head. “Asking me to marry you isn't the solution to our problem.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “I can't believe you'd even think that's the answer.”

“I think it can be a good start.”

“If that's all you have, then I need you to take me home.” She turned to go.

“But, Poppy—”

“Do you have a compromise or not?” When he didn't respond, she repeated her request. “Take me home.”

He must have finally realized his mistake because he stopped trying to talk her into staying.

They were both silent all the way back to her house. He pulled to the curb and she unbuckled her seat belt.

“Don't go,” Gino said.

She turned to him, giving him one more chance.

“I love you, Poppy.” The well of emotion in his voice was nearly her undoing.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I love you, too, Gino. But I need you to respect me.”

“I
do
respect you. I wouldn't want to marry you if I didn't respect you.”

“Then why are you still planning to compete with my business? Why aren't you taking that seriously?”

He stared at her. He obviously had no answer.

Sadly, she opened the car door and went into her house, straight to her bedroom, and flung herself onto her bed for a good long cry.

* * *

T
YLER
COULDN
'
T
IGNORE
the fact that Callie was going out of her way to avoid him. She hadn't liked his opinion about telling her therapist everything that had happened the other night. She'd spent the evening in her bedroom with the door closed, even taking her dinner upstairs rather than eating with him and his daughters.

Allowing her time to cool down—even though she had been freezing him out rather than getting angry—he took the girls to visit their new house. They hadn't seen the progress being made for several weeks.

He didn't question why it was so important to him, but he'd also really wanted to invite Callie to see how much work had been done since she'd first been there. He craved her approval.

“This is magical,” Madison said as she stepped inside the front door to see the new chandelier, as well as the newly refurbished hardwood floors and intricate stairway with wrought iron balusters and handrails. “Our own castle,” she said on a sigh.

Tyler chuckled. The girls and their princess fantasies.

“I love this house, Daddy.” That came from Alexis, sounding like she was in awe. “When can we move in?”

He was pleased that they were as excited about moving into the house as he was. “Not long now. I'm thinking we can paint your bedrooms this weekend and move your furniture out of storage.”