Trouble Under the Tree (A Nina Quinn Mystery) Page 8

  There was a reason I didn’t have a dog of my own.

  “Well,” Maria said, “I made this scarf for you.” She shook it out, and it unfurled like a roll of toilet paper on the loose. It kept going and going. The scarf had to be six feet long, and was full of quarter-sized holes—slipped stitches. “Isn’t it beautiful? You always look so pretty in purple. Not that you wear much of it.”

  My sister looked a lot like a young Grace Kelly and often behaved like a spoiled socialite. Despite our (very many) differences, she was my baby sister, and I (obviously) had a high level of tolerance.

  But as much as I wanted to crack a joke at the state of that pitiful scarf, I couldn’t. The pride in her eyes had me saying, “It’s very nice.”

  She beamed, a magnificent smile.

  Riley jumped up and headed for the door. “I’m going to shovel the front walk.”

  Which was probably pointless with the way the snow was coming down, but I recognized the opportunity to escape when I saw it. “Put on a hat!” He wore no coat, no gloves, nothing. Just his hoodie.

  He threw me a withering look. Riley and I also had a bit of a War of the Roses history, but God, I loved that kid. And though he would rather cut out his tongue than admit it, I knew he felt the same.

  I held back a smile as he reluctantly pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. The front door slammed behind him.

  “I also brought a scarf for Mr. Cabrera,” Maria said, digging again into her bag.

  I sat on the edge of the couch, still holding my arm straight out like some sort of pee-drenched deranged toy solider. “When did you start knitting? And baking? And grocery shopping?”

  Shrugging, she said, “Just trying some new hobbies.”

  Only Maria would think of grocery shopping as a hobby. “No, really,” I pressed.

  “What? I can be domestic.”

  “Is Nate pressuring you? Trying to change you?” I was ready to kick his ass if that was the case, despite the fact that I adored my brother-in-law. It took a special man to handle Maria long-term.

  “Nina, no. I just thought I’d try some new things.”

  I peered at her carefully. “Are your roots showing?”

  Her hand flew to the crown of her head, and she blushed. “I haven’t been to the stylist this week.”

  “What is going on, Maria? ’Fess up.”

  She picked up her knitting, calm as could be. “Nothing is going on. I’m just maturing.”

  Aha! Now I knew something was up. Maria never used words like “maturing.” At least not in reference to herself. But I knew by the set of her delicate lips that she wasn’t going to give me any more information. I was going to have to do some snooping, maybe talk to Nate.

  Gracie snortled again, and I glanced at her in time to see her squat on my Christmas tree skirt. More piddle.

  I looked at Maria, who only knit faster.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” I said. “While I’m up there, I suggest you throw that tree skirt it in the washer, Ms. Maturity.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me.

  That was more like it.

  Through the window, I saw Riley pushing a shovel around. It was then that I noticed Maria’s car wasn’t parked out front. I started to get a funny feeling in my stomach. “Where’s your car?”

  “At home. Nate didn’t want me driving in this storm, so he dropped me off on a way to a meeting downtown. He’s going to pick me up later.”

  I watched the snow fall in a steady sheet. “How much later?”

  “Tonight.”

  I held in a groan and prayed that Nate had four-wheel drive in his Mercedes so Maria wouldn’t be stranded here overnight.

  Sure, I had an abundance of tolerance, but a girl could take only so much.

  ***

  Upstairs, I took a gratuitously long hot shower, blow-dried my hair so I wouldn’t freeze to death, and cuddled in the warmth of my bathrobe. I sat on the edge of my bed, picked up my home line and dialed Bobby’s cell phone number. I thought I would have heard from him by now with an update on his mom. Surgery had been early this morning.

  I worried my lip as the phone rang and rang. I was about to hang up when I finally heard him say, “Nina? I’m here.”

  He sounded tired. So tired. “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  In the background, I could hear hushed voices. He sighed. “Not really. Sorry I haven’t called, but I was waiting for more news.”

  I pulled on a pair of fuzzy socks. “What happened?”

  “My mom had a stroke during the operation. She’s in ICU now. It doesn’t look good, Nina.”

  A lump wedged in my throat. As much as my mother drove me crazy—and she did—I couldn’t imagine losing her. Ever. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me, too,” he said quietly.

  I mentally went over my work list for the next few days. Could I skip out? Of course I could. What was the point of being boss if I couldn’t play hooky once in a while? Kit was more than capable of handling the jobsite at Christmastowne, and Tam and Brickhouse were the best office managers around. “I can take the next flight out.”

  “Isn’t it the storm of the century up there?”

  Damn! The snow. I’d forgotten. “I can drive down. My truck has four-wheel drive. I can be there by tomorrow morning. I’ll drive all night.”

  “Nina.” I heard a smile in his voice. “I don’t want to have to worry about Mom and you. Stay put for now, okay?”

  “But—”

  “No buts. All you’ll be doing down here is sitting around, watching the news, drinking stale coffee, getting groped by Mac.”

  “I could do without that last one,” —been there, done that— “but those other things...I’d be doing all that with you. Holding your hand. Shoulder to lean on. You know, all that sappy stuff.”

  I looked at my bare ring finger. Bobby hadn’t yet gotten around to buying me a ring for our engagement. I had a sneaking feeling he was waiting for the romantic Christmas trip we had planned at a little country inn.

  There was a long pause before he said, “Stay put. I’ll call when I have more news.”

  I didn’t like that pause. “Bobby?”

  “Yeah?”

  I plucked at a piece of fuzz on my robe. “Nothing.” I’d been about to ask if he’d make it back in time our trip, but it seemed so trivial, so inconsequential, in the face of what he—and his mom—were going through. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  We hung up, and as I dressed in sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee, I realized I still had a lump in my throat.

  But this one had nothing to do with Bobby’s mother.

  And everything to do with feeling like our relationship was about to undergo a drastic change.

  Chapter Ten

  I needed chocolate.

  Gracie started barking as soon as my feet hit the stairs. I looked at her, waiting for me at the bottom of the steps, and said sternly, “Don’t even think about peeing on my floor.”

  She must have sensed my mood and stopped yapping immediately. Looking up at me with her blank black eyes, her ears flickered. Then she turned and sniffed her way into the kitchen. I followed her and found Riley sitting at the kitchen island, chewing on a handful of mini marshmallows. His nose was red, his cheeks chafed.

  “You dressed up for us, I see,” Maria said as she set mugs on the counter.

  She returned more and more to her normal self with each passing minute. I borrowed a phrase I’d heard a lot lately. “Don’t judge me.”

  I motioned for Riley to give me his soaked hoodie as a smile played at the corners of Maria’s mouth. I’ve always amused and irritated her. It was a package deal.

  Riley didn’t argue as he pulled the garment over his head. Thankfully, he had a T-shirt on underneath.

  The washing machine was running as I stepped into the laundry room and threw Riley’s sweatshirt into the dryer and set it for twenty minutes. I peeked out the side door and saw that the walkway Riley
had just shoveled was already covered in two inches of snow.

  Snowmaggedon didn’t seem so dramatic anymore.

  I clung to the hope that the meteorologists were right, and that the sun would come out tomorrow and melt all this white stuff away.

  A girl could dream.

  Back in the kitchen, Maria had her arms braced on the counter as she stared disdainfully at the container of Swiss Miss. “Please tell me that you have something other than packaged hot chocolate. Where’s the good stuff?”

  “That is the good stuff.” Swiss Miss was my favorite.

  She pouted. “You’re kidding.”

  A nap sounded like a good idea right about now. “You could always go home and make your own fancy kind. Oh, wait, that’s right. You’re at my house. Uninvited.”

  “Snappy,” Maria accused.

  I sighed.

  She pouted.

  Riley bee-lined for the fridge, rooted around, and came out with a package of cookie dough. He handed it to me.

  Did I mention how much I loved that kid?

  Maria lifted one perfectly-plucked eyebrow. “Raw cookie dough? Don’t you know how bad that is for you? Never mind the calories. The fat. The fat on your thighs. Even worse, your hips. What have your hips ever done to you, Nina?”

  “Bite me.”

  She harrumphed and set the kettle on to boil. “Snappy,” she murmured.

  I slid a gaze to Riley. “Hold me back.”

  Sticking his hand into the marshmallow bag, he smiled and shook his head. “I missed it the last time you two got into it.”

  He was referring to a knock-down drag-out mud fight Maria and I had in her backyard a few months ago. Trust me, right now she should be glad that there was no mud around.

  “I won that fight,” Maria boasted.

  I rolled my eyes and broke off a hunk of the cookie dough. I was trying my best not to worry about Bobby...and his tone. It was stress, was all. Nothing more. Nothing more. Perhaps if I kept telling myself that, I would believe it soon.

  Riley said, “I wish I had a sibling to fight with. When are you going to have a baby, Nina?”

  A chocolate chip wedged in the back of my throat. I grabbed my chest as I coughed, choking. Riley slapped my back. Maria ran around the counter, pushed Riley aside and wrapped her arms around me. She fisted her hands over my diaphragm and was just about to thrust when I gasped, “I’m okay.” The chip had worked itself loose.

  She thrust anyway.

  “Uhhhn!” I cried, losing air.

  “Is she breathing?” Maria asked Riley.

  “She won’t be if you keep doing that.”

  I elbowed her aside and sucked in a lungful of air. “Jeez, Maria!”

  “Oh, that’s the thanks I get for saving your life.” She pouted.

  “Next time let me die,” I said.

  “I will!”

  I filled a glass of water and chugged it down.

  Maria eyed me. “I told you that cookie dough was bad for you.”

  Lord help me. She was close to being kicked out in the storm. Only the thought of my mother’s chastisement stopped me from booting Maria out.

  The tea kettle was starting to whistle when I heard two raps on the side door before it squeaked open. “Ho, ho, ho!”

  Gracie started yapping and as soon as Mr. Cabrera popped his head into the kitchen, she peed on the floor.

  I shook my head. How much did that dog drink, anyway?

  Mr. Cabrera looked from face to face, then said, “Bad time?”

  “Nina’s in a mood.” Maria poured steaming water into the mugs.

  I ate more cookie dough.

  “That stuff ain’t good for you, Miz Quinn,” he said, pulling up a stool. “Think of the salmonella.”

  There was going to be bloodshed at my house tonight, I was sure of it.

  “What’re you doing here?” I asked, gripping my roll of cookie dough as though I might start swinging it like a bat. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

  “Working?” Riley asked, taking care of the newest puddle.

  “Meet the new Santa at Christmastowne,” I said, still amused at the thought.

  “Ho, ho, ho!” Mr. Cabrera bellowed, shaking the windows.

  Maria winced as she grabbed a mug for Mr. Cabrera. “You might want to tone that down a smidge. The kids might get scared.”

  His wrinkles deepened as he frowned. “Really?”

  We nodded.

  “You scared?” he asked Riley.

  “A little,” he said.

  “It needs to sound merrier,” Maria said, coaching him. “Like you’re a jolly old fellow, not the scary Wizard of Oz.”

  Riley smirked. “Dude. Santa?”

  Mr. Cabrera nodded. “Starting tomorrow. Jenny Christmas closed the place down today due to the weather. The best news is Fairlane McCorkle was hired back as Mrs. Claus, so maybe I can talk her into a date after all.”

  Ah. The real reason Mr. Cabrera took the job. “She does have a thing for Santas,” I said, stuffing more cookie dough into my mouth and storing it in my cheeks like a little hamster.

  “Your hips, Nina, your hips.” Maria tsked.

  There wasn’t much of the cookie dough left to use as a weapon. Besides, I didn’t want to waste it on her. “It’s a long walk home, Maria.”

  Mr. Cabrera didn’t like discontented females, so it was no surprise when he said, “I should get going. I was wondering if I could borrow the kid.”

  Riley jumped up. “I’m game.”

  “To do what?” I asked.

  “Fairlane asked me to stop by,” Mr. Cabrera said. “She needs some help getting a few things out of the storage space above her garage.”

  I imagined the conversation of her asking him to come over “some time” and he deemed that to be “right away.” There was no lacking of optimism on his part.

  Riley grabbed his sweatshirt from the dryer and pulled it over his head, ahhing at the heat. I understood. There were some winter days I fantasized about crawling into the dryer myself. But my big hips and I would never fit.

  “Wait! Before you go,” Maria said. She ran into the living room and came back with her carpetbag. She pulled out a blue scarf and rolled it out.

  It had to be eight feet long, and pockmarked just like mine.

  “I made you a scarf, Mr. Cabrera!” she proclaimed.

  His eyes widened and his mouth formed a wide o. “It’s beautiful,” he gasped, picking it up and wrapping it around his neck, four, five times. He separated the fabric so his mouth was clear and said, “Thank you, Miss Maria.” He kissed both her cheeks.

  My heart fluttered. That Mr. Cabrera was a good guy. You know, if you took away all the dead girlfriends and everything.

  “Don’t worry, Riley,” Maria said. “I’m still working on yours.”

  Riley’s eyes widened in terror. “You don’t have t—”

  Mr. Cabrera elbowed him.

  “Uhn. I mean, thank you,” Riley said.

  I saw them off through the side door and came back into the kitchen to find Maria sneaking a chunk of cookie dough. “Aha!”

  She blinked innocently. “I’m only thinking of your hips.”

  The phone started ringing, and I snatched up my cookie dough before she polished it off. Then I glanced at the Caller ID and picked up the phone. “Nina Quinn’s halfway house.”

  Maria flipped me off.

  I smiled.

  “I just have to stop at home, then I’ll be over,” Kevin said. “And have I got news for you. You’re not going to believe what was on that video tape.”

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time Kevin knocked on the door, ten minutes later, it looked like the snow was lightening up a little.

  Or maybe that was wishful thinking on my part.

  Gracie barked, peed.

  Maria sighed and went for paper towels.

  As soon as I pulled open the door, Kevin thrust a package at me. “This was jammed in your mailbox.”r />
  I took the manila bubble envelope from him, and my heart squeezed a little at the sight of Bobby’s name on the return address. Then I frowned when I realized the address was in Texas, and that nagging lump in my throat was back.

  Kevin stomped his way inside, wiping his boots on the mat by the door. Gracie took one look at him and went running. She bumped into the edge of the couch before diving under the coffee table.

  Sometimes when I saw Kevin, I felt that way, too.

  Maria came in carrying a roll of paper towels. “Pee patrol,” she said at Kevin’s quizzical glance.

  “The rat?” Kevin asked, referring to Gracie.

  “No, Mr. Cabrera,” I teased. “You just missed him.”

  Kevin smiled and shrugged out of his jacket. He hung it on a hook by the door.

  “You got here fast,” I said, trying to resist the lure of Bobby’s envelope.

  “The entrance to my street is closed. The accident earlier knocked out power and broke a water main.”

  A steady pulse of panic threaded its way through my veins. “When’s it supposed to open up again?”

  He wouldn’t look at me. “Tomorrow.”

  I groaned.

  “You don’t mind if Ry and I stay here tonight, do you?”

  Was that a trace of humor in his voice? I glanced at him, at his sparkly green eyes. Damn it. It was. “I’m sure Mr. Cabrera will be happy to put you up. Ry can stay with me.”

  “Party pooper.”

  I grunted. That was twice today I’d been called that.

  Kevin nodded to the envelope in my hand. “You gonna open that?”

  “Later,” I said, tucking it under my arm. The last thing I wanted was an audience. “What was on that video tape?” My curiosity was killing me.

  “Do you have a laptop? I’d rather show you.”

  Nodding, I said, “I’ll get it.”

  As I ran up the stairs, I heard Kevin ask Maria, “Are you staying over, too?”

  “I think so,” she said.

  Ugh. There wasn’t enough cookie dough in the world.

  Even though I was dying to see what Bobby had sent, I wanted to see that tape more. I dropped his package on my bed and grabbed my laptop from my nightstand. Back downstairs, Kevin slipped in the tiny disk. “I watched this at the station. My unofficial investigation into those toy thefts just got very official. And this tape might just break open Lele’s murder case as well.”