her on call as a babysitter.”
They walked in silence—a deafening silence. Josie watched the wind create red-and-gold whirlwinds of leaves. Ted pulled Josie down on a blue park bench near two flame-red bushes and said, “Josie, it’s none of my business, but your mom pretty much blackmailed you into investigating Tillie’s case.”
“So?” Josie felt uneasy. She didn’t like Ted criticizing her mother.
“So, it’s dangerous to meddle in a murder investigation. I know you’ve had some luck in the past, but poking around in a murder can get you killed.”
“You’re right,” Josie said.
Ted smiled. His eyes crinkled. Josie wished they hadn’t. She loved his eye crinkles. “It is none of your business.”
Ted’s smile disappeared.
“I love you,” Josie said, “but Mom needs my help.”
Ted tried to put his arm around her, but she shook it off.
“But that’s why Tillie has a lawyer,” Ted said. “Renzo will have a case investigator, a professional private eye. You shouldn’t be doing this on your own.”
“I didn’t ask for your advice, Ted. I appreciate your concern, but I want to go now. It’s time to pick up Amelia.”
Angry clouds scudded overhead. The wind had a cold, slicing edge to it.
“Josie!”
“I really need to go home,” Josie said. “I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”
Ted looked contrite. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. I had no business meddling. It’s just that I love you so much. You’re so beautiful and funny. Of course you can handle your own life. You’re doing a terrific job. Amelia is proof of that. Can we start over, please?”
Josie nodded.
“I want to help,” he said. “You’ve taken on a tough task, but I’ll be there for you. If you need dinner, if you want me to pick up Amelia, if you need a bodyguard, I’m there.”
“That’s better,” Josie said.
Ted kissed her. A long, lingering kiss.
“You taste like spicy tomato sauce,” she said. “I forgive you. If you really want to help, go with me on my next mystery-shopping assignment as penance for your sins.”
“Where?” Ted said.
“I have to eat brain sandwiches at Ferguson’s Pub in South City.”
“Are you kidding? That’s no penance. I love brains,” Ted said. “My dad used to take me there. When do we go?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Josie said.
“Perfect,” Ted said. “Do you want me to drive you to Amelia’s school now?”
“No. We need to have a private mother-daughter talk,” Josie said.
Dark clouds hid the sun now. The wind whipped the leaves into small fiery tornadoes. The weather was turning cold. A fat raindrop plopped on the bench as they ran toward Ted’s orange Mustang.
Chapter 13
Rain slashed Josie’s Honda. The wind battered its small body and nearly blew the car sideways. She clung to the steering wheel and dodged a downed tree limb. At a red light, she scrubbed her fogged windshield with a tissue, but it didn’t help. Josie could hardly see through the storm.
She could hardly see where she was going with Ted, either. After their tiff at the park, Josie and Ted had run to his car, dodging raindrops. They were laughing once they were inside his ’68 orange Mustang, cushioned by the leather bucket seats. Josie loved his warm man smell—coffee and cinnamon with a dash of wood smoke—in the closed car. Before he started the engine, Ted kissed her again, then licked the raindrops off her eyelids. The windows had fogged.
“No,” she said. “I really do have to get to my car and pick up Amelia.” It took all her strength—moral and maternal—to push him away. Josie remembered those stories of fear-maddened mothers who’d lifted whole cars to save their babies. That’s what it felt like to refuse Ted. She wanted to spend the afternoon making love in that car—hot, hasty, hormonal love.
You’re a mother with responsibilities, she told herself. You’re too old to be lovesick.
“Josie, I really do love you,” Ted
They walked in silence—a deafening silence. Josie watched the wind create red-and-gold whirlwinds of leaves. Ted pulled Josie down on a blue park bench near two flame-red bushes and said, “Josie, it’s none of my business, but your mom pretty much blackmailed you into investigating Tillie’s case.”
“So?” Josie felt uneasy. She didn’t like Ted criticizing her mother.
“So, it’s dangerous to meddle in a murder investigation. I know you’ve had some luck in the past, but poking around in a murder can get you killed.”
“You’re right,” Josie said.
Ted smiled. His eyes crinkled. Josie wished they hadn’t. She loved his eye crinkles. “It is none of your business.”
Ted’s smile disappeared.
“I love you,” Josie said, “but Mom needs my help.”
Ted tried to put his arm around her, but she shook it off.
“But that’s why Tillie has a lawyer,” Ted said. “Renzo will have a case investigator, a professional private eye. You shouldn’t be doing this on your own.”
“I didn’t ask for your advice, Ted. I appreciate your concern, but I want to go now. It’s time to pick up Amelia.”
Angry clouds scudded overhead. The wind had a cold, slicing edge to it.
“Josie!”
“I really need to go home,” Josie said. “I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”
Ted looked contrite. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. I had no business meddling. It’s just that I love you so much. You’re so beautiful and funny. Of course you can handle your own life. You’re doing a terrific job. Amelia is proof of that. Can we start over, please?”
Josie nodded.
“I want to help,” he said. “You’ve taken on a tough task, but I’ll be there for you. If you need dinner, if you want me to pick up Amelia, if you need a bodyguard, I’m there.”
“That’s better,” Josie said.
Ted kissed her. A long, lingering kiss.
“You taste like spicy tomato sauce,” she said. “I forgive you. If you really want to help, go with me on my next mystery-shopping assignment as penance for your sins.”
“Where?” Ted said.
“I have to eat brain sandwiches at Ferguson’s Pub in South City.”
“Are you kidding? That’s no penance. I love brains,” Ted said. “My dad used to take me there. When do we go?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Josie said.
“Perfect,” Ted said. “Do you want me to drive you to Amelia’s school now?”
“No. We need to have a private mother-daughter talk,” Josie said.
Dark clouds hid the sun now. The wind whipped the leaves into small fiery tornadoes. The weather was turning cold. A fat raindrop plopped on the bench as they ran toward Ted’s orange Mustang.
Chapter 13
Rain slashed Josie’s Honda. The wind battered its small body and nearly blew the car sideways. She clung to the steering wheel and dodged a downed tree limb. At a red light, she scrubbed her fogged windshield with a tissue, but it didn’t help. Josie could hardly see through the storm.
She could hardly see where she was going with Ted, either. After their tiff at the park, Josie and Ted had run to his car, dodging raindrops. They were laughing once they were inside his ’68 orange Mustang, cushioned by the leather bucket seats. Josie loved his warm man smell—coffee and cinnamon with a dash of wood smoke—in the closed car. Before he started the engine, Ted kissed her again, then licked the raindrops off her eyelids. The windows had fogged.
“No,” she said. “I really do have to get to my car and pick up Amelia.” It took all her strength—moral and maternal—to push him away. Josie remembered those stories of fear-maddened mothers who’d lifted whole cars to save their babies. That’s what it felt like to refuse Ted. She wanted to spend the afternoon making love in that car—hot, hasty, hormonal love.
You’re a mother with responsibilities, she told herself. You’re too old to be lovesick.
“Josie, I really do love you,” Ted
Similar Books
