“Partly, yes,” Melissa answered. “And partly because both of you are young.”
“Right,” Andrea said, her tone turning crisp as she turned on one heel to leave Melissa’s office. “I’ll get your messages.”
Bemused, and still aching all over from the tumble she’d taken into the gravel that morning, Melissa put her purse away, sat down in her chair and booted up her computer.
A tap at the framework of her open door alerted her to Tom’s presence. Melissa smiled, and even that hurt a little.
Tom glanced in Andrea’s direction and then came inside Melissa’s office and closed the door.
“We’ve got trouble,” he said. His tone was solemn.
Melissa looked up at him, her smile a thing of the past. “Sit down, Tom,” she said.
But he shook his head. “I’ve had a complaint from Ashley and Jack’s neighbors,” he told her. “About the guests. Since it’s sort of a—delicate matter, I wanted to run the report by you before I go over there.”
Melissa closed her eyes for a moment. Dammit, that bunch of geriatric outlaws were running around naked again, and this time, someone had seen them.
She did not need this.
The B&B should have been Ashley’s problem, not hers.
Tom cleared his throat, and his expression was diplomatic. His eyes twinkled, though, and he wasn’t in any rush to state his business, it seemed to Melissa. “They’re disturbing the peace,” he said.
Melissa rolled her eyes. “Disturbing the peace?”
“Apparently, they’re playing the stereo at top volume. Practicing the tango on the back patio.” Tom drew in a breath, his eyes still dancing with amusement. “The Crockett sisters are worried that the noise will scare their fish.”
“Their fish?”
“You know. Those fancy goldfish they have.”
“And this is my problem because—?”
“Well,” Tom said, “because Ashley and Jack left you in charge of the B&B, for all intents and purposes. I thought you’d want to know what was going on.”
“Good heavens,” Melissa said.
Tom chuckled. “I’m fixing to go on over there and have a word with those good folks, of course,” he went on. “I’m sure they don’t mean any harm. You can come along or stay here—your choice.”
Melissa groaned as the weight of twin responsibility settled on her shoulders. “I’d better go with you.”
Tom nodded. “That would probably be a good idea,” he allowed, his mouth twitching at one corner, “but maybe I should go in first, just in case.”
“Just in case what?” Melissa asked, feeling testy. The over-the-counter pain pills she’d taken with her morning smoothie, before leaving home, were taking the edge off, but that was about it. “Last I heard, the tango wasn’t dangerous. Not for spectators, at least.”
Tom gave her a wry look as he opened the office door and waited for her to step through before following.
Andrea was just rising from her chair, the usual handful of pink phone messages clutched in one hand. She looked pale, and there were faint shadows under her eyes.
“Anything important?” Melissa asked, with a glance at the messages.
“I’m not sure,” Andrea admitted. “There was a call from a woman complaining that one of her neighbors is buying too much toilet paper—way more than anybody needs, especially when they live alone.”
Melissa frowned, puzzled.
But Tom gave a chuckle and a low whistle that brought the faithful Elvis click-click-clicking down the hallway from his master’s office on canine toenails and said, “Sounds like the same old controversy Aunt Ona has to deal with every year when rodeo time rolls around.”
“Mr. Creed called, too,” Andrea added, while Melissa was still pondering Tom’s cryptic remark. “I guess he didn’t have your home number. Anyway, he said he and Matt really enjoyed supper last night and they’d like to reciprocate as soon as possible.”
Melissa blushed slightly. “Okay,” she said, avoiding Andrea’s gaze. She could actually feel Tom’s grin, though she didn’t look at him, either.
“We’ll be back in a while,” Tom explained to Andrea.
Out of the corner of her eye, Melissa saw Andrea nod before turning and going back to her own desk.
Moments later, Tom, Melissa and Elvis were in the squad car.
Melissa flipped through the messages to make sure there was nothing urgent, then shoved them into her purse. All except for the toilet paper concern, of course.
The caller, not surprisingly, had been Bea Brady, one of the more vocal members of the Parade Committee. She’d spoken up during the meeting out at Creekside Academy, Melissa remembered.
“Some people,” she said, with a long sigh, “have way too much free time.”
Tom’s mouth quirked at one corner. Elvis, meanwhile, sat in the middle of the backseat, behind the metal grill. “I suppose you realize,” he said dryly, “that there are a few people around Stone Creek who’d say that about us. The big joke down at the barbershop is that I don’t even need to load my service revolver—I can just carry a single bullet around in my shirt pocket, like Barney Fife.”
A giggle escaped Melissa, in spite of everything, but when she spoke, she was utterly serious. “Sometimes I think I’m in the wrong line of work,” she admitted, surprising herself as well as Tom.
Tom, already signaling to turn onto Ashley’s street, cast a quizzical glance in her direction. “Really?” he asked. “You worked pretty hard to earn that law degree and pass the bar exam and then build a resume. What would you do if you weren’t a lawyer?”
As the alley between the Crocketts’ and the B&B came into focus, toward the end of the block, cell memory must have kicked in, because Melissa felt the impact of her fall all over again, as if it had just happened.
“Interesting question,” she murmured in response. Before the breakup, she and Dan had agreed on a general plan: she would take a few years off from her career when she felt ready, help raise his two boys, have at least one baby, try out some of the domestic arts, like cooking and decorating, à la Ashley. “And I don’t think I know the answer.”
And that was probably the whole problem, she reflected. She not only didn’t know what she would do if she didn’t practice law, she didn’t know who she would be.
She’d been so sure that she loved Dan, wanted to make a life with him, but when it came time to set a date and to actually get married, Melissa had panicked. Dan, who’d been patient for a long time, had been coldly furious, and then he’d delivered an ultimatum; she had forty-eight hours to make a decision, one way or the other: marry him, or call it quits.
Melissa hadn’t needed forty-eight hours, or even forty-eight seconds.
She’d called it quits.
Of course, she’d expected Dan to come around in a day or two—a week at the longest—with flowers and sweet talk, the way he had every other time they’d ever disagreed about anything, large or small, but that time was different. There was no soft music, no steamy makeup sex, no anything. Within a week, in fact, Dan was dating a waitress, the woman he’d since married.
“Well,” Tom said, drawing the cruiser to a stop in front of the B&B. “We’re here.”
“Yes,” Melissa said, squinting her eyes and peering at the front of her sister and