Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
G eorgette hadn’t been to Brody’s office for a long, long time. When he first became chief of police for their small town, she’d visited practically every day, ostensibly to bring him food, but really because she was so proud she couldn’t contain her joy for him. And then one day she realized how stilted and awkward he seemed when she was around, and she realized he didn’t actually want her there. He would never say that, of course. If asked, he would tell her that of course he wanted her there, she was his sister. She was always welcome. But Georgie knew, even if he didn’t say, that having her there invaded his space, the one little space in this town that was only for him, not for her. It remained part of the unacknowledged truth that hovered awkwardly between them: Brody’s resentment and Georgie’s guilt.
“What’s the matter? You got all squirmy when I mentioned your brother,” Burke said.
“What? No I didn’t. I’m not squirmy; you’re squirmy.”
He didn’t reply, just gave her a look like, Why are you so weird?
She let out a protracted breath. “It’s just this thing.”
“What thing?” He reached over the console and poked her arm, urging her to continue.
She withdrew her arm, pressing away from him into the door. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that Mainers don’t like to talk about things?”
“That’s why I love Maine,” he said, nodding. “But this seems like something I need to know and understand.”
She couldn’t fathom why, but she could also feel the words pressing against her lips, ready to be blurted. “Brody resents me because he had to give up his career in the military.” As soon as the words were out, she wished she could take them back in again. She tried, pressing both palms over her mouth, but too late.
“He said that?” Burke’s hands tensed on the wheel.
“No, of course not, he would never say that. He’s a good brother, the best brother. He’s very dutiful. He would never give voice to that resentment, but I always knew it was there. How could I not? One day his walls were littered with marine recruitment posters and then, almost immediately after our parents died, his walls were bare and he was permanent guardian of his helpless little sister.”
“You think you’re helpless?” Burke surveyed her critically, trying to see if she was serious.
She shrugged. “In some ways.”
He snorted, a derisive sound. “In no ways. Anyway, back to the brother. He made you feel bad?”
“No.” She shook her head, vehement now. “He did everything right, always. He always showed up, always supported me, paid every bill on time, made supper, took care of the house, mowed the lawn. He was the best surrogate mother and father I could have had. But he would get this look sometimes…” She trailed off, her gaze turning out the window, remembering how it had been. She had sensed Brody’s sadness and longing, had felt the weight of it like a physical thing. But what could she do? Outside of trying to be the easiest, best kid she could possibly be, there was nothing. She’d had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. “The worst part, for me at least, is the guilt. It has eaten at me every day since our parents died. Knowing I was a dream squasher, whether I intended to be or not, you have no idea what that feels like.”
He was quiet a few beats, thoughtful. At last he said, “Maybe not, but I do know what the weight of family responsibility feels like, and at some point you have to let it go. To consciously throw off the mantle of what you can’t control. It wasn’t your fault your parents died, wasn’t your fault Brody had to be your guardian.”
“Whose fault was it, though?”
“No one’s. Sometimes things happen, it is what it is.” He tossed her an assessing glance. “Why didn’t he join up after you left for culinary school?”
That gave her pause. She stared into space with her mouth open a few beats, shocked speechless. In her entire life, she had never asked herself (or Brody) that question. It was a good one, though, a really good one. She had been a few states away. Why hadn’t he pursued his dream then, once she was safely out of the nest? “Huh,” she said.
She wanted to think about it more, but too late; they had arrived.
Burke sat for a minute, regarding the building. Georgie wondered what he saw when he looked at the small structure that housed not only the police department, but also the water department, mayor’s office, and library. If he thought anything, he didn’t say it, however, so when he exited the car, she followed close behind him.
Brody and Cotton sat close together in Brody’s office, talking. From the outside, it looked like they were merely shooting the breeze, but Georgie knew better. Her brother was nothing if not conscientious; he wouldn’t waste work time talking about personal matters, a fact confirmed when they caught the tail end of their conversation.
“…prescription, but couldn’t provide one,” Cotton said, shaking his head with either annoyance or dismay. “I told him that would be the easy way. Now we’re going to have to get a warrant.”
Brody nodded. “Let me know if you need me to have a word with someone.” Her brother could be very persuasive. While some men, men like Cotton, could use charm and cajoling to get what they wanted, Brody had a way of shaming people into it, as if they were doing something bad or letting him down and needed to make amends.
“I think I can sway him, but we’ll see how it goes,” Cotton said. He stood and caught sight of Georgie and Burke, beaming a friendly smile. “Hey, Georgie. Did you bring food?”
Cotton had been her brother’s best friend since middle school, so Georgie had a level of comfort with him she didn’t feel with most people. Since he and Elyse got together, she had never seen him so settled or happy, and she felt vicarious delight for both of them. Now she gave his shoulder a light shove. “No, mooch. Burke needs to talk to Brody.”
“Really,” Cotton said. His glance fell curiously on Burke. Georgie knew he was dying of curiosity about him, as most people probably were but, being Maine, no one would pry. Burke’s placid expression gave no clues. With a “hmm,” Cotton stood and moved aside so Georgie and Burke could have the chairs.
“You wanted to talk to me?” Brody said, darting Georgie a worried look. She wondered what he thought this was about and had a sudden flush, thinking maybe he thought it was some kind of marriage proposal scenario. Did he think Burke was going to ask for her hand in marriage? My lands.
Both men watched her as she used her hand to fan her face, trying to force the color out of it. “Hot in here,” she croaked.
Thankfully neither of them made comment on her sudden discomfort. They once again faced each other and seemed to be waiting the other out in a game of who-will-crack-first. Since Burke was the one who wanted to know information, he finally spoke.
“If I say maple, does that mean anything to you?”
Brody blinked at Burke a few times and then fixed his eyes on his sister, awaiting an explanation. Georgie wasn’t certain she should be the one to give it, because she had no idea what was going on.
“There’s been chatter,” she helpfully volunteered.
“Like chipmunks? Do you have squirrels in the inn? Because they love the stuff,” Brody said. He was being serious, she could tell by the set of his eyebrows, but that only made it funnier and she gave a nervous giggle snort she tried and failed to swallow. The brows of doom dipped toward annoyance and she pressed her lips together, tossing the conversational ball back to Burke.
“Someone broke into Georgie’s inn,” he blurted.
Okay, that was not the way. Brody jetted halfway out of his chair, startled. “What?” He looked around the office. For guns? Ammo? Other people to form a posse? Whatever he was looking for he didn’t seem to find because he eventually sank back into the chair and repeated in a more reasoned tone, “What? Did they take something? Are you okay? Who was it? Why? Did you catch them?”
“Those were a lot of questions,” Georgie said, not knowing where to begin.
Brody tuned her out and focused instead on Burke. Men, Georgie thought, feeling summarily dismissed. On the other hand, she was thankful for men because she certainly didn’t want to deal with the man in black on her own.
“I was away on business. Last night when I got home,” Burke swallowed hard and faced Georgie, “Georgie was petrified. She said she saw someone dressed in black in the inn. He took a step toward her. I checked the security feed.” Brody interrupted with a little noise, but Georgie couldn’t discern if it was dismay or approval without seeing his face and instead her eyes were on Burke. He looked shaken, if such a thing were possible. She didn’t know why she got that sense, but she did. Was Burke worried? About her? “He wasn’t on it. So I did some poking in some surveillance stuff and found some Bulgarian chatter about maple.”
“What does Bulgarian chatter sound like?” Georgie asked. It was a genuine question. Would she be able to understand someone who spoke with a Bulgarian accent? But Burke touched a finger to her lips, one side of his mouth quirking with amusement.
Brody cleared his throat. “What?”
Georgie laughed again, nervously, and the movement of her lips against Burke’s finger became a kiss. He withdrew his finger and stared at it, frowning as if trying to figure out how the gesture got away from him.
In her peripheral she saw Brody put his hands to the hair at his temples and give it a hard yank. “I’m sorry, but what is going on? Bulgarian chatter? Maple syrup? Chipmunks? Is one of us high? Is it me?” He sounded genuinely concerned and Georgie felt bad. Brody didn’t do well with confusion. He liked being in the know as much as he liked being in charge. Not a lot of room for surprises in Brody’s world.
“Apparently Burke thinks some kind of spy thing is going on and it involves my inn and Bulgarians and maple syrup,” Georgie said and frowned. In retrospect, that hadn’t added a lot of clarity.
Burke held up a hand to get their attention. “To be fair, I never said maple syrup , that was your assumption. And there’s been no mention of chipmunks.”
“What if the chipmunks are Bulgarian?” Georgie inserted. Burke’s cheek ticked again and he flicked her knuckle.
Brody’s eyes bounced between them. “What I’m getting so far is that some Bulgarian rodents have a maple syrup addiction, and I so do not have time for this.” He made as if he were going to stand and Georgie panicked.
“Brody, no, wait. We’re serious. Burke is a…well, he’s, you know…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Spy stuff. He took me to see The Oracle, and The Oracle told him the Bulgarians were here. And maple.”
Brody stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “Who is maple?”
“Not necessarily a who, but probably a what,” she said.
“Georgette,” Brody snapped.
She jumped and Burke intervened once again. “I came here to ask a few questions. Maybe we should start there. Is anything unusual happening?”
Brody gaped at him. “You mean besides the fact that my sister has a stranger in her attic who takes her to a gypsy and bangs on about maple syrup? No, everything is status quo.” He rubbed his first two fingers in the middle of his forehead.
“The Oracle is,” Georgette began, but Burke cut her off by gently squeezing her knee. He gave a little shake of his head and mouthed, Classified.
“I can read lips,” Brody said dryly. “A side effect of having a hearing impaired sister.”
Burke faced him. “Has anything unusual in town happened lately? Any out of the ordinary people or crime?”
Brody took a deep breath and actually seemed to be thinking about it. “No,” he said on a sharp exhale.
“Does the word maple mean anything to you?”
Brody spread his hands wide. “It’s Maine. We’re the third largest maple syrup producer in the country. Practically everyone you meet has a tap.”
Georgie blinked at him, thinking. “But only one person has a large and profitable maple business.”
Brody looked at her. “Georgie, no.”
“Who?” Burke asked.
“Jenna Archer,” Georgie replied.
Burke’s brows rose. The same Jenna Archer who made Georgie feel so unwelcome at the town hall meeting? She gave a little nod, yes, the same Jenna Archer.
“Interesting,” Burke said, sitting back.
“What is interesting about that? Tons of people dabble in maple around here, and the fact that Jenna does doesn’t mean anything. You’re being biased because you don’t like her.” He pointed at Georgie who studied him with a quizzical expression, head tipped.
“Why did you two break up in high school?” she asked.
Brody dropped his eyes to his desk. He became uncomfortable whenever the topic turned personal or toward feelings. “We were young and stupid. Kids break up, it happens.”
“But she desperately wanted you, practically salivated at the thought of a post-school engagement. You seemed really into her, in the beginning. So what happened?”
“She was mean,” he blurted. “Okay? You were right about her, I couldn’t stand the way she treated people, and I couldn’t picture bringing her into your life on a permanent basis, let alone any future children.” He shuddered, imagining Jenna Archer as a mom. “I wanted someone kind, soft, and settled.”
Someone like Carol, one of Georgie’s best friends from culinary school. She was everything Brody had just described and then some. “Why didn’t you marry Carol?” Burke’s presence made her brave and Georgie dared to ask the question she’d never asked before.
Brody’s eyes flashed. “You may remember she dumped me for another man, the man she’s now married to.”
Georgie nodded. “Yes, I know, and I’m sorry. I know that was painful, and I hate it. But you and Carol were together for five years. Why didn’t you ever press for more? She would have moved here, if you’d asked.”
“I didn’t know that. She seemed so into her job.” Brody shook his head, looking distraught, but Georgie wondered. He and Carol had spent approximately five days a year together for all the years they dated. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Georgie thought so, but she couldn’t say what. She thought of Burke’s earlier question, Why didn’t he pursue his dream after you were in culinary school? Brody’s lack of pursuit, both of his dreams and people, seemed connected somehow, but Georgie couldn’t figure out how. Suddenly it seemed like she was seeing her brother anew, and she didn’t like it. He wasn’t the perfect big brother of her dreams, the way she’d always portrayed him to herself. He was flawed, perhaps scared, and she kind of hated it. Because the truth was that even with his flaws he was an amazing brother and a wonderful man and he deserved happiness, both in his career and in his relationships.
He caught sight of Georgie’s expression and frowned harder. “What?” he demanded.
“I just really love you,” she murmured, today’s ready tears springing once again to the surface and lingering in the corners of her eyes without being shed. The sight of them, along with her words, made Brody soften.
“I love you, too, you know that. And I’m worried about you, about this,” he motioned between her and Burke.
“I’m fine. Burke is…” she faced Burke, unable to finish the sentence. What exactly was Burke? Safe? Not exactly. There was too much unknown and untamed about him to be considered safe. But still she trusted him, with her life, if necessary. “He’s, you know, he’s The Burke .”
“Is that even his real name?” Brody demanded.
Burke said nothing in reply or defense except, “If you hear anything unusual, send it my way.”
“Okay,” Brody said, but his tone and face told them he was still baffled and more than a little concerned.
Burke held the door for Georgette as they stepped out into the daylight. “Now what?” she asked.
Burke put on the sunglasses he’d slipped into his pocket. “How do you feel about a field trip?”
Georgette smiled. “Are we going to get some maple syrup?”
“Maple is always a good idea,” Burke agreed.
Georgette tucked her arm through his. “I think you’re fitting into Maine just fine.”
“I knew I would,” Burke said and opened the door to the car for her.