“I know the sheriff. I can have him over here in five minutes. It’s pretty boring crime-wise here. He’d love to get his hands on a good, old-fashioned kidnapping case.”
“She’s my ex-stepmother,” he said by way of an explanation. “And she’s not here.”
“Well, I’ll stop by some other time and make sure she’s not making you scrub floors or live in the closet under the stairs.”
It was almost a smile this time.
“Later, kid.”
“Later, landlord.”
2
Cheerful from caffeine and a good night’s sleep, Beckett breezed through the doorway into the section of his house that was dedicated to his law practice. Originally a parlor, the high-ceilinged room opened onto a glassed-in sun porch, making the entire space bright and comfortable.
Here he’d stripped the dark plaid wallpaper from the walls, but left the waist-high wainscoting. Built-ins flanked the double doors that opened into the library that he used as a conference room. On the back wall was a large stone fireplace.
His office was through a set of ornately carved pocket doors toward the front of the house, overlooking the porch and driveway.
Ellery’s desk faced the sun porch’s entrance. From there, she did her best to edit the never-ending stream of visitors. It was here that his worlds of politics and business intersected. Clients of his practice shared the sunny waiting space with town council members and residents with beefs or wildly inappropriate suggestions … sometimes both.
Beckett put Ellery’s pink kitten mug down on her desk. His paralegal swiveled in her chair, her desk phone cradled between ear and shoulder.
“Uh-huh. Sure Mrs. Parker. I’ll let him know as soon as he’s back in the office,” she said into the phone. “You, too. Bye now.”
Her painted black lips stretched into a grin. Her ebony hair hung in lazy, loose curls pinned back from her face. Tiny skull earrings danced at her lobes.
“Mrs. Parker is very interested in talking to you about redoing her will, which is code for talking you into dating her daughter.”
“Moon Beam?” Beckett winced. He had gone to school with Moon Beam Parker and had spent a very memorable portion of junior year with her, during which he lost his virginity to her in the backseat of his mother’s SUV. The relationship had fizzled — as so many high school romances in Blue Moon — when Moon Beam left for a yearlong stay on a commune in Vermont after her parents’ divorce.
“It seems Mrs. Parker became aware of the attention you’re getting since that article and wants to lock you down for Moon Beam.”
“Husband number three, am I?” Beckett said, dropping into one of the chairs in front of Ellery’s desk. He sipped his coffee. “What else is on the agenda, besides marrying me off?”
“First things first,” Ellery said. “Welcome back. You look tan and mostly happy.”
“I am tan and mostly happy.” He thought of his mother’s news and suppressed a frown.
“Good.” Ellery nodded briskly. “Here’s a copy of your calendar for this week. I tried to keep the appointments a little light so you don’t lose your post-island buzz.” She ran through some of the highlights of the coming week, pointing with black tipped nails. “You also have a Chamber event at noon today. Ribbon-cutting at the yoga studio.”
Beckett perked up. So he’d get to meet the beautiful and flexible yoga teacher today. That was a plus. The memory of her laughing in candlelight behind the glass of her studio tugged at him. All those red curls and that pale skin. There was something bewitching about her.
“Beckett?” Ellery was looking at him.
“What?”
“I asked if you met her yet?” Ellery asked, breaking through his thoughts.
He frowned. “No. I just got back last night,” he reminded her.
“She great. She’s amazing actually,” Ellery gushed. “She started teaching classes last week and I signed up for a monthly package after my first class. I think you’ll really like her. She’s a good fit.”
Before he could ask her what the limber, young yoga instructor would be a good fit for, they were interrupted by his nine o’clock, who was thirty-five minutes early.
And so it began.
Beckett worked his way through appointments, research, and paperwork right up until he had to leave for the ribbon cutting. He grabbed the ceremonial gold shears that Ellery held up for him and headed out the door.
“Don’t run with those,” she called after him.
There was already a crowd gathered around the front door of the studio. They were all familiar faces. Elvira Eustace, with her more salt than pepper ringlets, was chatting animatedly with Anthony Berkowicz, the skinny editor of The Monthly Moon, who was holding a digital camera bigger than he was.
Anthony’s mother, Rainbow, was impatiently staring at her watch while Mrs. McCafferty of the catchall general store McCaffertys talked her ear off.
The door to the yoga studio opened, and Rob from OJs by Julia stepped out carrying empty trays.
“Hey, Beckett,” Rob greeted him.