Chapter 8
8
THERE HAD BEEN A MURDER in the courtyard. The following Monday, Sir Neville Hooter lay on the ground, ripped and deflated. It was just after lunch, and I’d ducked upstairs to grab some Advil. My muscles still ached for relief from working that tree trimmer on Saturday. I’d secured the bottle as Sir Neville had snagged my attention through the kitchen window.
Like a homicide investigator, I now hovered over the deceased’s body, scanning for clues. Dozens of small nicks covered Sir Neville’s face. One of his eyes was completely missing. Larger slashes marred his torso. It must’ve been a cat. Didn’t cats play with toys? And didn’t cats loathe birds? Sir Neville checked both of those feline perp profiles. I straightened and surveyed the perimeter’s brick wall. A cat could’ve easily gotten in and out of the courtyard and climbed the tree.
As my gaze scanned to where I’d fastened Sir Neville to the lowest branch near the trunk, I caught the slightest movement on an overhead limb. My eyes slowly tipped up-up-up, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.
There sat a parrot. A huge parrot. I scrambled backward. The lime-green creature had to be the length of a ruler. It watched me from the branch above Sir Neville’s lifeless body. Watched me with its big creepy bird eyes. A line of bright teal marked its right cheek. It raised one of its feet, and within its claws lay Sir Neville’s eye. I gasped. “Murderer.” I flapped my arms, the pills in the bottle rattling. “Shoo! Shoo!”
The beast remained unmoved.
The café’s back door opened, and Mrs. Adélaide ambled out. “Everything okay, cher ? I was on my way to de bathroom and saw you flailing.”
“That parrot”—I pointed—“killed our owl.”
Mrs. Adélaide shuffled to the edge of the porch, squinting and scanning the great oak. “Oh.” Her eyes widened and then tightened to slits. “I know dis bird. Cést fou .”
“He’s crazy?”
“ Oui . He took up in my magnolia tree. Made such a mess.” She raised her fist to the animal and muttered a long sentence in pure Cajun French, her throat emphasizing the curse words with a vengeful rasp. She turned to me. “You have a gun?”
I blinked. “Um...”
“Tomorrow, I’ll bring mine.”
Images of the movie Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot flashed before me. Especially with her helmet of powder-white curls and thick glasses swallowing her lean face. She gave major Sophia Petrillo vibes from The Golden Girls .
“That won’t be necessary.” I took the steps up to the porch. “But thank you. Let’s get you inside.”
I shot one last evil eye at the butcher, and ushered Mrs. Adélaide into the café. She made her way to the bathroom, muttering “ Cést fou ” several times. I cast a quick glance over the main dining room and found Ryan waiting at the hostess stand.
Sarah McLachlan.
Suspicion surged in my gut, looping and knotting.
He removed one of the café’s business cards from the stand, sliding it into the pocket of his black slacks. His eyes met mine. He smiled.
My grip on the Advil tightened.
Behind Ryan, the front door opened, and Micah entered.
Mangy mutts. Who else would show up that would make this moment any more awkward? My gynecologist?
Micah, whose shirt featured pineapples donning sunglasses, noticed Ryan first. Open displeasure coated Micah’s features, as though he’d stepped in dog poop. Interesting .
Ryan followed my line of vision, turning. His countenance hardened. Doubly interesting. Had they not liked each other in high school, and I’d missed it? They shook hands and exchanged a few words, Ryan giving Micah a once-over with an air of snootiness. The hostess interrupted them, leading Ryan to an empty table. Maybe I’d arrange for a plate of beignets with extra powdered sugar to be dropped on the lap of his black pants.
Micah made his way to me, a slight frown darkening his handsome face. “I’d like to talk to you about something, but if you’ve got plans right now”—he nodded in Ryan’s direction—“I can come back another time.”
“No, I don’t have plans with anyone. Especially not him.” I tossed a sneer in Ryan’s general vicinity and motioned Micah toward my office. “I’m hoping this is a good something you want to talk about.”
He followed, his expression shifting to a partial smile. “It falls somewhere in the middle.”
We entered my office, and I shut the door, then rounded my desk to my chair. My forgotten extra foam latte waited. At least it would be cold enough to down the Advil with.
Micah took one of the guest chairs, his attention absorbed by the bookcase behind me. Instead of books, pictures of Claire, Hayley, and a hodgepodge of Hayley’s arts and crafts from elementary school filled the shelves.
Between the possibility of Mrs. Adélaide packing heat on her next visit and Ryan’s appearance, my temples pounded like they held an angry drummer captive. Well, I could obliterate that one problem. I shook out two pills and downed them with a long sip of tepid caffeinated goodness. A foam mustache clung to my upper lip. With zero napkins and Micah enthralled with Hayley’s kindergarten rendering of a streetcar, I licked it away.
Only Micah wasn’t staring at my décor anymore. No, his gaze tracked the movement of my mouth.
My breaths slowed, sharp energy charging the air.
He quickly averted his stare, a muscle flexing in his jaw, as though he were frustrated with himself.
Had my office shrunk? And who had stolen all the oxygen? I needed clarity. Stat. Something to squash the electrical current thrumming under my skin that he kept evoking. Clearly his ugly clothes weren’t a strong enough deterrent. If anything, the pineapples on his shirt only thrust memories of our junior-high kiss into the forefront of my mind. Oh, that kiss.
“ My ex-wife and I weren’t a good fit ... because I’m a cat hoarder, and she was allergic.”
Though I didn’t spy a single cat hair on him. But at least I’d returned to rational thinking. Not a single man since Ryan had sparked this strong of a reaction. I’d had little flickers here or there. But nothing powerful enough to jump-start my long-dormant heart when it came to romantic feelings.
“Do you have that sweater set in every color?”
I snapped from my thoughts and ran a hand down the long sleeve of my navy cardigan. “Do you raid Magnum P.I.’s closet every morning?”
His green eyes twinkled. “I’m on my lunch break. And I’ve found kids are more open to me when I dress like this.”
“Oh.” My posture wilted. “That makes sense.” And it was ... endearing. Nope . Don’t fall for it. Other than the gigantic red flag flying above his head, he drove a flip-prone vehicle. “So what did you need to talk about? I’m guessing it’s not my wardrobe.”
One side of his mouth hitched. “No, it’s not about your clothes. Over the weekend the special events room at the library had a pipe break in the ceiling. The water damage is enough to where they’re renovating the entire space, which means it’s off-limits for now. Which leads to canceling the spring events.”
My heart sank a little, and several special events Hayley had attended passed through my mind. For one, she’d created her own picture book about alpacas that had been added to the library’s shelves for others to check out. Though that had been years ago, the book remained on a shelf to this day. I’d even spied Hayley looking through it last month. For another event, she’d dressed as a favorite fictional character (Susan from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe ). And then there’d been a scavenger hunt that had taken place on the library’s property. She’d animatedly talked about it for days after.
“They’re reallocating the funds for the spring events to offset the renovation fees. But if I can find another location to hold the gatherings at no cost to the library, I have approval to promote them as official events. I was hoping we could move them here, to your courtyard.”
The proverbial needle scratched across the vinyl record. “Here?”
He held up his hands. “Just until the renovations are complete. The goal for now would be one event a month, for the next three months. My concern is if they die off altogether, they’ll never start again. I’ve got snacks and basic supplies covered. But I don’t have enough funds for a location.”
Suspicion once again crept in, winding through my stomach. Maybe it was Ryan’s reappearance bringing my old insecurities of being used more easily to the surface. And if so, good! I needed the reminder. “What’s in it for you?”
He flinched.
Okay. Perhaps he wasn’t like Ryan.
“Nothing’s in it for me. I’d just hate for these kids to lose the events they love. Events that give them something positive to be a part of.”
Unmistakable conviction percolated, and then swelled from within my core. Oh, God, I don’t have time to host library functions. Or have the courtyard looking like a daycare when potential clients dropped by to consider it as a venue. Regardless of my hesitations, the sensation to say yes to Micah persisted. My attention drifted over my desk to the treasured catawampus pencil holder Hayley had crafted out of popsicle sticks when she was five. At a beloved library function no less. I pulled in a breath and released it. “I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you.” He rose to leave, an easy smile forming.
I stood to escort him out.
“You won’t have to do a thing, if that’s what you’re worried about. My girlfriend’s great with parties and kids, and she’s volunteered to help.”
Shock rippled through me, leaving me unable to move. Landry Mask. Landry Mask. All I could manage was to nod like a bobblehead doll.
He opened the door and paused on the threshold, his hand on the knob. “Would you like this closed?”
Another bobble-head nod.
“Thanks again.” He shut the door.
I sank into my chair, mentally chastising myself for being so pitifully taken by surprise. Of course he had a girlfriend. He was a gorgeous man who’d chosen a profession that helped others. A profession that put him in the line of single moms who could see how great he was with children. Or grandmas with eligible daughters who could see how great he was with children. Even beyond the library, he was out there in the world with his athletic physique and laid-back personality. And his pineapple kisses.
Apparently, the big red warning flag I’d imagined rippling in the wind when it came to Micah and his divorce hadn’t mattered to someone else.
For the next twenty-four hours I engaged in a tug-of-war with God. I now sat in the back corner of the courtyard on a small bench tucked into my favorite prayer spot. A vine of pink jasmine ran up the brick wall behind me, reaching for the waning sun, its plump blooms on the verge of bursting free.
I’d dropped Hayley and her friend Emma at the library after school, along with some snacks. Emma’s mom had offered to bring Hayley home when she picked up Emma, but I’d declined, knowing I had to talk to Micah. To either grant his request or reject it.
I inhaled a hint of sweetness from the jasmine and relaxed my tense shoulders. Ignoring that pressing from God always proved futile. Because in the end, I knew the only peace I’d feel would be giving in to what I should have done. And I never regretted surrendering to His promptings.
“God, you know this timing isn’t good. I can’t have a million kids swarming the courtyard. There’s bound to be casualties.” I gazed at the tiered fountain, the lush landscaping that had finally filled in every nook and cranny. “And Micah seems kind of free-spirited. What if he reads them a medieval story, and they build catapults?” I could almost hear Mawmaw’s vintage French doors shattering. See the newly sprouting tulips getting squashed.
“And if I’m being honest, despite the fact that I’m not looking for a relationship, it would’ve been a smidge easier to say yes to a single Micah Guidry.” I glanced down at my beige heels. An ant carrying a leaf from the vine crawled along the pavers. Closing my eyes (and my running mouth), I sought God. The persistent conviction I’d been feeling swelled. I sighed, tipping my face skyward, catching sight of the murdering parrot in the oak tree. “Cést Fou,” I growled, shaking my fist at it like Mrs. Adélaide had. “God, since I’m giving in with the library events, do You think You could do something about that bird?”
Ten minutes later, I exited my car at the library. Traffic whizzed by, but all I heard was Micah’s voice from yesterday. “Do you have that sweater set in every color?” My outfit today was purely out of spite. Slim-legged trousers and a feminine pinstriped blue shirt that hit at my elbows. “My girlfriend’s great with parties and kids.” Well, there was nothing I could do about that remark. I knew he hadn’t meant it as a dig. That it had only been to ease my concerns and help his cause. But man oh man, I wished I hadn’t confided in him on my past feelings about children and my fear of lacking parental skills.
I hauled open the historic wood door, and my gaze instantly latched onto Micah. A jolt of awareness shot through my belly. He sat behind the reception desk, his brows furrowed at a computer screen. His Hawaiian shirt featured volcanos. Appropriate for the heat erupting within me that hopefully wouldn’t tattle through my cheeks.
His attention shifted to me, and his olive-colored eyes transformed from pensive to ... pleased.
My internal lava chamber bubbled. He has a girlfriend. And a red flag.
“You just missed Emma’s mom.”
I nodded. He’s pretending to be happy to see you because he needs your help.
That lava in my stomach quelched.
Movement at the far end of the reception desk garnered my attention. Nellie, Mrs. Gail’s assistant—or, really, I guessed Micah’s assistant for now—stood there, silently working. Donning disposable gloves and a slight grimace, she made her way through a stack of hardbacks, transferring them to a book cart. Years ago, Nellie had taken on the job in an effort to help with her germaphobia. Nellie cleaned the now-clear counter with a disinfectant wipe and then pushed the cart toward the back, disappearing into the area that had once been a grand dining room. It now housed the nonfiction section.
Micah rounded the desk, stopping a few feet before me. Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “Has she always been like that?” The scent of pineapples wafted with his nearness.
Whimpering whippets. Was I having a delusion? Was this some sort of cruel trick because I now knew he was forbidden fruit? I hushed my tone to match his. “Nellie hasn’t talked to you?”
He shook his head. “I’m guessing she has a problem with germs?”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I readjusted my purse strap on my shoulder. It wasn’t my place to disclose Nellie’s phobia.
Realization dawned on his face, and he rubbed his forehead. “That’s why Mrs. Gail left instructions that it was my responsibility to go through all returned books. And the drop box.”
I quirked a brow. “I can see Nellie wanting to avoid children’s books for obvious reasons.” I mimed picking my nose. “But the others?”
His hand slid from his temple to the back of his neck. “Unfortunately, boogers aren’t only found in children’s books.”
I recoiled, clutching my throat. “I didn’t think it possible, but you’re making books even less appealing for me.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you have a café full of books the public has access to.”
“Uh-uh.” I held up my hand like a school crossing guard halting traffic. “The majority of people ignore them. Plus, they don’t leave the premises.”
He folded his arms with a smirk.
“Moving on.” I widened my eyes, emphasizing the end of that subject. “We’re getting off topic.”
“We have a topic?”
“We do.”
“Does it involve you crushing the hearts of the library’s patrons? Most notably the hearts of kids and teens?”
Most notably, one teen in particular. “If it were only your heart that would be crushed, then my decision would’ve been easier.”
He chuckled. “Which means you’re letting us use the café?”
“I am.”
His smile skyrocketed.
My heart twinged.
“Thank you. So much. I have just about everything pulled together for the first event. It’s an Alice in Wonderland theme.” He leaned across the desk, grabbing a copy of the book. “There’ll be a Mad Hatter tea party in the courtyard with these crazy decorations hanging from the tree above the tables, then croquet in the yard in front of the café—”
“What?”
“I even found some lawn flamingos at my dad’s place we can set around the course.”
Talk about a confirmation of my fears. Children with mallets? Smacking wooden balls? Not adhering to proper croquet rules? I could just hear a window—or four—shattering, and see the café sign on the front lawn being treated like a pinata. A shudder rolled through me. “You never said anything about using the front of the café.”
“Well, I was hoping...” His brows slowly rose, no doubt in an attempt to be charming.
“No. Absolutely not. And this is exactly why I’m only agreeing to this if I’m in charge of everything.” I crossed my arms. “And I do mean everything.”
His mouth pulled to one side, contemplating.
“Take it or leave it.”
“You still like total control.” Faint lines fanned at his eyes. “Reminds me of that group science project in tenth grade.”
“The project where you questioned and pushed at each of my suggestions?”
His head tilted, highlighting the strong angles of his jaw. “The project where you acted as a dictator instead of an equal?”
“This isn’t a high school assignment, Micah. It’s my place of business. The sole income for Hayley and me. I have to ensure nothing jeopardizes that. My customers expect a certain atmosphere, and I can’t risk losing them to another restaurant. Or missing out on potential business.”
“I understand. It’s just ... these library events are supposed to be fun.”
I scoffed. “I can be fun.”
“Kate, even your exercise is exact and controlled.”
“Excuse me?”
“Three times a week.” He marched in place, pumping his arms, miming my speed-walking motions. “Same pace, same route.”
“Stalker!”
“It’s not stalking when you’re going right past my home like clockwork.”
Interesting . So last Saturday he’d known I’d be walking by. Had he timed his appearance to run into me, or was it coincidence? “According to the American Heart Association, speed walking is the most practical way to achieve the recommended thirty minutes of low-impact cardio three times a week.”
He held my gaze, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.
I sighed. “You’ve brought us off topic again. Are you agreeing to let me be in complete charge of the events at my café?”
“Will you at least wear an Alice costume?”
I nailed him with a glare.
“The Mad Hatter?”
My glare narrowed to a pure scowl.
His lips twitched. “With the way you’re looking at me, I think the Queen of Hearts would be better suited for you.”
I snatched the book from him and set off to find Hayley.