The After House by Michael Phillip Cash Page B

amateurish, it was definitely arson. Can you think of anyone who would do this to you?”
    Remy shook her head. Hugh touched her back in a comforting way, and with surprise, Remy chose not to move away. His large hand felt good against the thin material of her shirt. He rested his hand comfortingly on her shoulder.
    “Well, keep an eye out for anything suspicious. We’ll send an extra patrol car to circle past your home later tonight.”
    “I can have my class at four?”
    Saunders nodded. “We’re done in there. Call Jacar’s Hardware. They’ll board up the window.”
    The detective nodded to Hugh grimly, then left the museum.
    Remy turned to Hugh and grinned. “Thanks for the tour.”
    “You didn’t get your nickel’s worth. Did I bore you terribly?” He smiled, moving closer to her. He brushed the hair from her face. Time stood still. The bell over the door tinkled in the silence, and the mood changed.
    “No, not at all,” she said, meaning it. “I’ll come back with my daughter, Olivia. She’ll enjoy looking at the whale teeth.”
    “Scrimshaw.” They both glanced back at the table filled with its collection of whale ivory painstakingly carved or etched with colorful scenes. “It really is fascinating. Did you inherit all of these?” Remy liked the way his face lit up.
    “Only a few. The really bad ones.” He picked up a beautifully carved tooth filled with images of brave whalers chasing a huge beast.
    “Why don’t you come for dinner at my house tomorrow,” Remy asked him impulsively. Hugh’s face brightened.
    They exchanged numbers, setting up a time for the next day.
    Remy left the church, feeling lighthearted, until she came upon the shattered glass on the walkway to her studio. Grabbing a broom, she swept it up, the bitter cold stinging her cheeks. She arranged for the window to be boarded and fought the feeling of uneasiness. It had to be kids, she convinced herself.

    Hugh sat at his antique desk, a satisfied smile on those sculpted lips. He liked her—really liked her. Remy was hurting. He remembered the feeling, a tightness in his chest blossoming into a protective anger as he watched her struggle with her emotions. She was sweet and adorable. He had met her mother, Judith, recently. She’d become involved in his museum and was just elected cochair his charity for children’s cancers. Judith had pressed for him to meet her daughter, but he avoided it, eventually going just to fulfill his obligation. What was wrong with Remy’s ex? He felt all wired up when he was next to her and had to fight the feeling of wanting to take her in his embrace and whisper that the first one, that loser, was just practice. He knew from his own broken heart that when it finally heals, like a cracked bone, it mends stronger than before.
    He never thought of Lauren anymore with anything but regret that it lasted as long as it did, and that they had continued to hurt each other so deeply. They weren’t right for each other, a mismatched set that never should have gotten past the first date. But somehow he felt deeply connected to Remy, as if he knew what was going to erupt from her mouth. Her hurt sizzled in his gut like a high-voltage wire. He wanted to help her but wondered how to start. The kiss was a good place to begin. He smiled. “It was interrupted,” he thought with chagrin.
    He abruptly set down the pen he was holding. The bell. He glanced at the tiny brass object over the front door. It had chimed, stopping his seduction, but no one had come in. He glanced around the empty room, puzzled.
    “Henry?” he asked quietly. No one answered.

urned out Molly loved yoga. She was slow moving, her thighs weak. She couldn’t stop talking, but she enjoyed the class. Since it was just the two of them, Remy allowed her to chatter away as she helped her with beginner’s poses. Molly knew everybody in town. She had lived here her entire life, never thinking she’d marry Sal Valenti, the owner of a little