Chapter 4
Petula pulled into the long, tree-lined driveway which was more or less hidden away from public view; just how she liked it. Coming home to the safety of the remote property she owned with her brother always felt like she was removing a heavy weight she dragged around all day.
This was her safe place.
Not that she wasn’t safe working her job for UPS.
She’d been with them now for over a decade, and had eventually stopped seeing bogeymen around every corner after a few years in.
But still, there was something about home-territory that had her shedding the protective skin she donned for the public, becoming her true self for a few hours each day.
Which is why her interaction with Julian Sothard earlier had been such an anomaly. She’d let her guard down. She’d actually given him a glimpse of the real her. She’d joked with him. And… Petula cringed. She’d more or less told him he was cute and flirted with him regarding a nickname.
How screwed up was that?
Or was it?
Maybe she was finally doing something…normal.
Petula got out of her little silver compact, reaching for and hefting the bag of groceries she’d purchased on her way home before closing the door and walking toward her house.
She needed to get started on supper instead of perseverating on what had occurred at Diver Downeast. According to the text from her brother, Statler would be arriving within the hour, and she needed to focus on feeding them both.
Stat, of course, had told her time and time again that she didn’t have to provide meals for him, but on the occasions that he was home and not working a remote job, she loved spoiling him.
He’d done so much for her in the past, that she’d never be able to repay him.
Not that he was looking for repayment. Nuh, uh.
. Her brother was a rock. A solid, reliable rock, who took the world on his shoulders and cared for his own, be it her, or the people who worked for him. And they all appreciated it.
Thinking about her brother going away again soon, made Petula sigh.
She always missed him when he was gone. And from what Stat had said, he was close, this time, to getting a large, lucrative job he’d bid on up in northern Maine close to the Canadian border.
It would mean him being absent for any number of months.
It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. So, she’d have to deal, as usual.
Unlocking and heading in through the side door of their cape-style house, Petula hit the light switch, illuminating the mudroom and kitchen, then toed off her boots and continued forward.
She breathed deeply of the comforting smells still lingering from this morning.
Yup. She’d made scones at dawn, then put a load of clothes in the washer before she’d left, so the air was redolent with the scent of baked goods and laundry.
Which meant, before anything else, Petula needed to switch her wet stuff over to the dryer or end up suffering a mildewy mess.
Not going to happen.
Placing her bag on a butcherblock island, she passed through the tidy kitchen and entered a decent sized laundry room that doubled as a closet and a pantry.
Quickly, she moved her things from the washer to the dryer, then grabbed some clean sweats off the shelf, and changed into them before adding her uniform to the dirty bin.
Feeling much more comfortable, she headed back to the kitchen, and humming under her breath, she began removing groceries from the bag.
She’d purchased a nice piece of swordfish which she’d grill outside since the weather was no longer frigid. But first, she had potatoes to peel and boil before mashing.
Statler loved mashed potatoes, and she was determined to provide him with some great comfort food before he headed off for possible work in the boonies, where she knew he’d eat from boxes and bags for the duration.
Fresh green beans would round out their meal; the whole thing not taking much brain power, which was good.
Petula’s cerebrum was still caught up in the whole Julian thing, and she had yet to decide how much she wanted to share with Statler about the conflicted feelings she was having around the man.
She should probably spill it all, every paradox in her head, because once Stat was gone, she’d no longer have a sounding board, which she desperately needed for this.
Petula put the potatoes and beans on to boil, then went out the back door to clean and start the grill when she heard her brother’s truck pulling up the driveway.
There was no mistaking the throaty growl of his vehicle.
The Beast, as she liked to call it, was a workhorse of a truck; rusty-red, scratched and dented, never clean, and always on the verge of needing some kind of repair.
Stat used his vehicle hard, as an extension of both himself and his office, often driving it to the point of breaking down.
“Out here,” she called loudly, after she heard his door creak open, then slam shut.
Stat rounded the corner, and she couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face.
Her big brother was the one person on earth Petula loved with all her heart.
He was made of pure gold, inside and out, never demanding anything of her, which was why she was so willing and eager to do things like cook for him and keep the house spotless.
Someone needed to pamper him.
“Grilling tonight, huh?” he chuckled, putting his tools down on the picnic table alongside a brown paper bag.
He moved over next to her to have a look at the stainless appliance that hadn’t been used all winter, and gave her hair an affectionate ruffle.
“It looks a little rough. I can scrape it down if you want.”
It was just like him to try and take any burden, no matter how small, off her hands.
“Nah. I’ve got this.” She sent a gentle elbow into his ribs. “You worked hard all day, and…” Petula made an exaggeratedly nasty face, “…phew! You smell like it, too. Go take a shower, skunk-boy. Dinner will be ready in forty minutes.”
Stat lifted an arm and sniffed his pit, flashing her a grin. “You’re so full of shit. I smell like a freaking rose.”
“Right. More like week old rose-water left to fester in the vase, so get lost.” She brandished the cleaning brush in his direction.
He laughed. “Okay. Fine. I get it. Don’t interfere with my cooking experience, Stat,” he mimicked, then backed off, raising both hands while still full-on smiling.
“But you might want to see what I brought home for you.” He canted his head toward the brown bag, then picked up his tools, and whistling, went inside.
Curious, Petula went over to the offering and opened it up.
Damn, the man was good.
Chunky Monkey. Her favorite. It was almost as if he’d known she’d had a stressful day.
Petula practically pranced inside, putting the container in the freezer for later. She called up the stairs. “Thanks, Stat. You’re the best.”
“Back attcha, Sis,” he yelled down, then the bathroom door slammed and Petula went back to clean the grill. It didn’t take long to have it spic and span, lit, and the swordfish on and sizzling.
Forty minutes later, right on the nose, food was on the table and Petula poked her head into her brother’s office where he’d disappeared after his shower.
“Chow’s on,” she told him, then noted his scowl. Not good. He was normally so even keeled. “Problem?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he huffed and pushed himself up out of his chair.
“Wanna talk about it?” Fair was fair. She’d be chewing his ear in a few minutes.
“Sure. That factory owner who’s on the verge of accepting my bid up north?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s trying to slip a few additional things into the specs that didn’t figure in my original estimate.”
“Huh. You’re not going to let him get away with that, are you?” Petula queried with a raised brow.
“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe?” Stat shrugged.
“I’ll have to see if he messes with anything more.
It’s a decent sized job, and will keep the guys busy for most of this year, so I might let the man feel like he’s getting a few, small concessions.
We’ll see.” His face cleared, and he gave an appreciative sniff.
“On a better note, dinner smells great.”
“You always say that,” Petula chided, but she preened.
She was happy when Stat was happy, which…
Rats. She hoped she wouldn’t spoil his appetite by bringing up the personal conundrum she couldn’t shake, but she needed his advice.
And he’d immediately know how important this was to her, because it was a rare thing for Petula to deviate from her routine and discuss something other than her mundane day and the few quips she could spin about odd things that happened in the office.
She dished up the food then sat, ramping up her courage, waiting until after Statler had his first few bites and was moaning appreciably. She pushed some mashed potatoes around on her plate, and dove in.
“So… I was, umm, properly introduced to one more Sothard brother today.”
“Oh, yeah?” he said, not catching on to anything different, yet. “Which one?”
Age-wise, Stat was between the oldest sibling, Trask, and the next in line, Vincent.
Being from several towns over, he’d played football against Vince, and had at one point told Petula—when she’d mentioned the clan—that he remembered that one brother from way back, and had since done work for the rest of them after he and Petula had moved to the outskirts of Bangor thirteen years earlier.
“Julian.” Petula tried to say the man’s name casually.
“Let me think.” Stat chewed and swallowed, clearly going through some mental gymnastics. “It goes, Trask, Vincent, Kyle, Mason…then Julian?”
“That sounds about right. Julian just got out of the Air Force after twenty-five years in.”
“Wow.” Stat nodded appreciably. “Those Sothards sure know how to serve. If it’s not a branch of the armed forces, it’s police work or SWAT teams. I have to give them props.”