Flamingo Diner (5 page)

“What are you thinking?” she asked, her voice vaguely breathless, as if she had a very good idea where his thoughts had wandered.

“You don’t want to know,” he said grimly, deciding to make that coffee after all. If he was going to sit here discussing Emma’s past escapades with the hundred greatest kissers in her life, he was going to need something a whole lot stronger than tea. Liquor was out of the question, given his exhaustion and the fact that he’d have to drive home soon.

“Matt?”

“What?”

“Did I say something to upset you?”

“Of course not. You can say anything you want to me.”

“I always thought I could,” she said, sounding suddenly uncertain.

“You still can,” he insisted, even if listening killed him. He would go through the tortures of hell, if it would distract her for a while from the reality of her father’s death.

“You’re a good guy,” she said.

She said it the way she might say it to an older brother. It grated on Matt’s nerves. He’d worked damn hard to become a good guy, and now he didn’t want to hear it. How ironic was that?

“That’s me, all right.” He poured himself a cup of strong coffee, then sat back down. “Tell me about your life in Washington. You work in an antiques store?”

“Fashionable Memories,” she said at once, her eyes brightening. “It’s a great place.”

As she began to talk, the years fell away and Matt could remember sitting in the backyard by the pool, listening to her spin her dreams for the future. He was pretty sure that back then there had been more talk of Hollywood or piloting a jetliner than selling antiques.

“When did you develop this fondness for old things?” he asked. “I thought you wanted to be an actress or maybe a pilot.”

She laughed. “How on earth did you remember that? I’d almost forgotten. I guess by my senior year in high school I’d figured out I wasn’t cut out for the silver screen, since I never once got chosen for the
school play. As for being a pilot, once I understood how much technology was involved, I realized I was more interested in seeing the world than in actually flying a plane.”

“It’s still a big leap from either of those careers to selling antiques,” Matt said.

“While I was in college, I used to wander around Georgetown when I had some free time. There was this great thrift shop next door to a coffee shop I liked. I started poking around in there, looking for things to decorate my dorm room. One day I found a piece of porcelain. Even under all the grime, something about it made me think it might be valuable. I paid a few bucks for it, cleaned it up, then took it up the street to Fashionable Memories. Marcel bought it from me for a hundred dollars, then sold it for twice that. He told me he’d buy any other treasures I stumbled across. Next thing I knew, I was haunting thrift stores and going to flea markets and garage sales all over town. He suggested I start taking some appraisal courses. When I graduated, he offered me a job.”

She grinned at him. “Believe it or not, that’s the short version.”

“And the long version?”

“You don’t want to hear it. I go on and on about the thrill of the hunt, about trying to discover the history behind a particular piece, about feeling connected to the past. It’s pretty boring stuff.”

Matt gazed into her shining eyes and felt that familiar spark of desire, that tug of longing to know everything that went on in her head. She had the kind of enthusiasm that was contagious. “I can’t imagine anything you have to say ever being boring,” he said honestly.

“Then one of these days before I go back to Washington, I’ll take you with me to explore a few thrift shops around this area. I guarantee I’ll have you pleading for mercy by lunchtime,” she promised, barely stifling a yawn.

Matt laughed. “I’ll hold you to that.” He stood up. “I really do need to get out of here and let you get some sleep.” He searched her face. “Think you can now?”

She nodded slowly, looking vaguely surprised. “Actually, yes. Thank you.”

“For what? Making you sleepy?”

She stood up and touched his cheek. “No, for distracting me for a little while.”

“My pleasure. I’ll be back in the morning. If you need anything in the meantime, my home number’s on the back of this card.” He handed it to her, noting the beginnings of a smile tugging on her lips. “What?”

“Matt Atkins, Chief of Police,” she said with a shake of her head. “I guess we really are all grown-up now.”

He shrugged. “So they say.” For the last few hours, he’d felt like a teenager again, awkward and uncertain in the presence of a girl on which he’d had a secret crush forever.

When she reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek, he turned so that her lips brushed his. It was just a fleeting, unexpected caress, but it was enough to send fire shooting through his veins.

When he looked into Emma’s eyes, he saw by her startled reaction that the kiss had done something to her, too. Then her gaze turned shuttered, as if she’d suddenly remembered that her father had just died,
and Matt cursed himself for being a jerk. The woman was in mourning and he was sneaking kisses just to prove something to himself.

And what had he proved? That he could coax a reaction from her? That he still felt a powerful pull where Emma Killian was concerned? Or simply that he was about as sensitive as a sledgehammer?

He considered apologizing, then decided that would make way too much of what had been little more than a friendly peck on the lips.

“Get some sleep,” he ordered brusquely instead.

“You, too. You must be exhausted.”

He had been, but then he’d met Emma at the airport and he’d caught a second wind. “I’m used to long hours.”

“But not to finding a friend drowned in the lake, I imagine,” she said quietly, a quaver in her voice as if the haunting image had lodged in her head.

“No, not to that,” he agreed. “Don’t focus on that, Emma. It doesn’t do any good.”

“How can I not?” she asked wistfully. “I’m afraid when I close my eyes that’s what I’ll see. It’s just been words up till now, but I’m afraid if I try to sleep, I’ll see what you saw.”

To be honest, Matt shared the same fear. The scene was indelibly inscribed in his head. Even without having been the one to pull Don from that car, he’d seen him in the murky water, still and lifeless. If it had been horrifying for him, how much worse would it be for Emma? Thank God he’d been the one to discover Don, and not someone in the family who would be haunted by the image forever.

“Come on, then,” he said, making a decision.

Swearing to himself that this was not a totally self-
serving act, he led the way into the living room and pulled Emma down on the sofa beside him.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, but she didn’t resist. “Matt, you don’t need to stay. You need to go home and get some sleep.”

“I can pretty much sleep in any position, especially after being up more than twenty-four hours straight,” he said, gently tugging her until her head was resting against his shoulder. “Now, go to sleep. I’ll be right here, if you start to have nightmares.”

“I can’t let you do this,” she protested sleepily, but her eyes were already drifting closed.

Eventually he felt her relax against him, heard her breathing ease. Then, and only then, did he turn off the light and let himself fall asleep.

“W
ell, if this isn’t just fucking terrific!”

Emma was awakened by the sound of Jeff’s disgusted voice. “What’s going on?” she mumbled sleepily. She squinted and caught a glimpse of her brother’s outraged expression. “Jeff? Is everything okay?”

She felt something shift beneath her and realized that she was resting not against a pillow in her own bed, but against Matt’s chest. At her sudden movement, he groaned and stirred.

“Dad’s dead, and the two of you are making it in the living room,” Jeff accused. “Yeah, looks to me like life’s just peachy, at least for you.”

“We are not making it,” Emma said calmly, straightening her blouse as she stood up. Jeff was clearly looking for someone on whom to take out his anger. She refused to let him goad her into such a ridiculous fight.

“You could have fooled me,” Jeff said. “Dad thought you were such a saint. I guess now that he’s gone, the truth’s out.”

Emma fought against the tide of hurt that crashed over her at the reminder that her father was dead. Somehow during the night, wrapped in Matt’s arms, that reality had slipped away. She opened her mouth,
but nothing came out. It was Matt who filled the silence.

“Don’t speak to your sister that way,” he ordered curtly, scowling at Jeff. “You owe her an apology.”

“For what? Telling her the truth?”

“Nothing happened here, Jeff,” Matt said quietly, “and you know it. We’re both fully clothed. And don’t you think if we were making it, as you put it, we’d have gone someplace a little more private and comfortable? Your sister was upset. I stayed. End of story.”

Emma saw the anger and confusion in Jeff’s eyes and knew that what he was really upset about had nothing to do with finding her in Matt’s arms on the living room sofa. He might be twenty, but he was still a scared kid who’d just lost his dad. She could certainly relate to that. Her father’s death had shaken her world to its very foundation, and she was six years older and had been on her own for some time now.

Determined to fix things between them, she crossed the room and hugged Jeff tightly. At first he simply stood there, rigid and unresponsive.

“Have you shed even one tear?” she asked him, rubbing his back as she’d seen her mother do when Jeff was little and came home fighting tears after some schoolyard incident.

“I’m not crying over him!” he retorted furiously, every muscle still tense. “I’m not. He was on my case all the time. Why should I be sorry he’s dead.”

“Jeff, he was our dad. Sure you fought. All kids fight with their parents, but there’s no denying that you’ve lost someone very important to you. It’s natural to feel some anger, because this is the last thing
any of us were expecting to happen, but you also have a right to be sad.”

His lip quivered then, but he fought it. When tears welled up in his eyes, he turned away. “I am not crying,” he said staunchly.

She bit back a grin at the brave words. “Okay, then, how about going into the kitchen and starting breakfast while I take a shower?”

“Alone?” he asked, the bitterness back in his voice as he scowled in Matt’s direction.

“Yes, alone,” she said, giving him a smack on his arm. “Stop acting like such a jerk. You know perfectly well nothing’s going on between Matt and me. Matt’s been like a big brother to all of us. Now, go.”

She turned to find Matt staring after Jeff, his expression worried. Or was that some other emotion in his eyes? Sorrow, possibly?

“You’re going to have to keep an eye on him,” he warned, turning back to her at last, his expression composed. “He’s furious and he hasn’t figured out what to do with all that rage yet.”

“I don’t think any of us have,” Emma responded, admitting for the first time aloud that she, too, was furious. This should never have happened, and if her father was gone because he’d chosen to die, it would be a thousand times worse.

“Yes, but you’re not a twenty-year-old boy who’s still finding himself. I’ve been there,” Matt reminded her. “I know what the choices are and exactly how easy it is to make the wrong one.”

“You never made any bad choices,” Emma said.

Matt regarded her with a rueful grin. “Oh, yes, I did, but your dad was around to steer me back onto the right path. Jeff won’t have that kind of guidance.”

Emma deliberately met his gaze. “He’ll have you, won’t he?”

Matt looked momentarily taken aback that she was placing her faith in him, but then he nodded slowly. “I’ll do what I can, but it won’t be the same. And based on the way things have gone here this morning, I’m not sure he’ll listen to me.”

Emma sighed. “No, it won’t be the same, but it will be more than good enough. Jeff idolized you once. When he calms down, he’ll turn to you. I’m counting on that.”

Their gazes remained locked for what seemed an eternity before Matt finally looked away. When he looked back, there was a once familiar spark of mischief in his eyes.

“You know, Jeff did have an interesting idea a minute ago,” he said mildly.

“Oh?” she said, instantly suspicious.

“You know that shower you’re about to take? We could cut expenses and save on water, if I were to join you.”

Emma laughed at the outrageous suggestion, though the sound of her voice seemed a little unsteady, even to her. More than once since she’d returned there had been this little shock of awareness with Matt, something that proved he no longer fit neatly into that surrogate big brother slot she’d always kept him in.

“In your dreams, Atkins,” she said tartly, trying to mentally push him back where he belonged.

He murmured something as she left the room, something that sounded a little like, “You’ve got that right.”

Matt spent the day at the Killians’ fielding calls from the medical examiner, who still had precious little information to offer about Don’s death beyond ruling out a heart attack or stoke, from his colleagues and from concerned residents of Winter Cove who wanted to express their condolences to the Killians. None of the family, though, were up to taking the calls themselves. Matt made note of everyone who called, so Rosa and the family would know how many people in Winter Cove truly cared.

Emma was clearly overwhelmed. Andy had once again retreated to his tree house and Jeff had taken off for parts unknown right after breakfast, mumbling something about a girl named Marisol expecting him. As for Rosa, she had refused breakfast, then sent Emma away, insisting that she had no intention of taking part in the planning of her husband’s funeral.

“Do whatever you want,” she had told Emma.

That had been her final word. Nothing Emma or even Matt had said could persuade her to reconsider. Nor would she see any of the steady stream of visitors who appeared at the front door bearing casseroles, fruit baskets or homemade cakes and pies. The dining room table was beginning to sag under the weight of all that food and Emma was starting to sag under the weight of her burden.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said, regarding Matt helplessly. “Should I just go ahead and make the arrangements? Obviously they’d never made any plans for something like this.”

“You tell me what day and time you want the service and I’ll do that,” Matt told her. “Why don’t you call a couple of your mother’s friends and ask them to come over here and talk to her? Maybe it would
be easier for her to talk to one of them than it is for her to face you.”

“Why on earth would she feel that way?” Emma asked.

“Think about it,” Matt said. “She must have the same questions that have occurred to you and me. If she suspects Don’s death wasn’t an accident, she must feel as if she let down not only Don, but all of you.”

Emma nodded at once. “I’ll call Helen. Mama turned her away this morning, but I’ll plead with Helen not to give up this time. Helen’s been through this kind of thing herself.” She sighed. “I take that back. Her husband died after a long illness. It’s not the same thing at all, is it?”

“She was still left to cope with her grief,” Matt said. “And make no mistake, your mother is grieving.”

“Matt, are we ever going to know what really happened at the lake?” Emma asked. “Or are we going to live with this uncertainty?”

“Will a ruling from the medical examiner that it was an accident satisfy you?”

Emma’s expression went from thoughtful to sad. “That’s what I want more than anything, but to be honest, it won’t erase the doubts. I need to know what really happened. If there’s any chance at all it was a suicide, I need to know why he did it.”

“Then you intend to pursue this?” he said wearily. “I figured as much.”

“Will you help?”

“I’ll do what I can. But Emma, until we know something more, I don’t think you should share your doubts with your family.”

She nodded. “I agree.”

He studied her intently. “You going to be okay here? If so, I’ll run on over to the funeral home.”

Emma looked torn. “I should go with you.”

“Please, let me spare you this part. I’ll go over everything with you afterward, and if something’s not the way you want it, we’ll change it.”

“Thank you,” she said finally, her relief obvious.

He tucked a finger under her chin. “You’ll get through this. You all will,” he said emphatically. “It’ll just take a little time.”

Emma gazed down the hallway toward her mother’s closed door and sighed again. “I hope so. I really do.”

Matt intended to do everything he could to see that she had all the support she needed to get through the tough days ahead.

Rosa would not go to the funeral of a man who’d betrayed her, betrayed all of them, by taking his own life.

There, she thought with a touch of defiance, she’d admitted it. She knew in her heart that Don’s death hadn’t been an accident. The police could say whatever they wanted, but he wasn’t a careless driver. Besides, there had been too many signs that he was unhappy. She hadn’t wanted to see them, but now they were impossible to ignore.

Not that she was about to say a word to a living soul. How could she? What he’d done was a sin. It was horrible enough that she believed it, without admitting it to the whole world and destroying his reputation.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to go to his funeral. She’d been telling Emma that from the moment the
arrangements were made, but Emma hadn’t listened. Now it was less than two hours until the service, and she still hadn’t budged from her bed. She knew she was upsetting her daughter, but this was the way she felt.

Suddenly the door to her room burst open and Helen came striding in, trailed by Emma. They were both dressed in black. Emma’s complexion was so pale, her eyes so haunted that for an instant Rosa felt guilty for causing her more anguish.

“Rosa Killian, I am ashamed of you,” Helen said, scowling down at her. “I never thought of you as a coward.”

Rosa didn’t have the strength to counter the charge. Maybe that’s exactly what she was, a coward. Maybe she didn’t want to face all those stares, all that conjecture. Maybe she didn’t want to face the fact that her husband was really dead. So what? She had a right to hide out if she wanted to. When it came to being a coward, her husband had just set her a fine example.

“No argument?” Helen demanded. She got a firm grip on the covers and ripped them out of Rosa’s grasp. “Get up at once. This day is going to be difficult enough on your children without them having to go through it without their mother. Stop being so damned selfish!”

Rosa stared at her. Helen never cursed. That she had done it now spoke volumes about just how upset she was with her friend.

“I can’t do it,” Rosa said simply, huddling where she was, wishing she’d taken another of those sleeping pills.

“I didn’t think I could do it when Harrison died,
either, but I managed. You were there. All my friends were there. And my children needed me. I concentrated on that and somehow I got through the day.”

“Maybe you’re just braver than I am.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Emma, tell her how strong she is.”

“You are, Mama. You’re the strongest woman I know,” Emma said quietly.

“Perhaps I was, once,” Rosa conceded. “Not anymore.”

“Inner strength doesn’t disappear,” Helen chided. “It just gets buried for a while. It’s there when we need it.”

Rosa looked into her friend’s eyes, then into her daughter’s. They were both expecting more than she had to give. “I honestly don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can and you must,” Helen insisted. “You take a shower and fix your hair. I’ll find you something to wear.” She turned to give Emma a reassuring smile. “It will be okay now. Just give us a half hour.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me?” Emma asked, her gaze on Rosa.

Rosa thought of the burden she’d left on her daughter’s shoulders for days now and forced herself to shake her head. “Helen’s right. It’ll be okay. Could you make me a cup of strong tea with some sugar?”

Looking relieved, Emma nodded and left the room.

“You should be proud of your daughter,” Helen said. “She’s heartbroken, but she’s doing what needs to be done. And Matt’s been a godsend. He’s been right by her side. Do you suppose that after all this time…?”

“I can’t even think about that now,” Rosa said, cutting her off.

“Maybe it would do you good to think about something besides yourself,” Helen retorted.

Guilt rushed through Rosa. “I have been selfish. I know that. I just can’t face this. I can’t face any of it.”

“You can,” Helen repeated. “We’ll be right beside you. All of your friends are just waiting for you to reach out to us. Jolie and Sylvia are heartsick that you haven’t let them in. After today, we’ll be right here as you start to pick up the pieces of your life. I can tell you from experience, you do it one day at a time. You’ll have good days and bad ones, but you will go on. And eventually life returns to what passes for normal.”

There was only one thing wrong with Helen’s promise, Rosa thought as she went to get ready. Without her beloved Don, she had no life.

Matt remained by Emma’s side throughout the funeral, but he kept his eye on Jeff. During the service Jeff stayed dutifully beside Andy, but the instant it was over, he began drifting away from the crowd. Matt made his way toward him and clamped a firm hand around the back of his neck.