Kiss Me If You Dare (7 page)

I eased close to the edge for a peek at the drop-off. A narrow trail, hewn over time, clung to the face of the cliff. Should I or shouldn’t I?

Why not? There was no schedule to keep.

I dropped my tote behind a clump of brush, then stepped down onto the narrow outcropping, slippery with pebbles. I picked my way along the zigzagging route to the patch of sand at its base. Sunrays beamed hot onto my newfound hideaway. I slid off my tennies and scraped my feet through the burning earth as I made my way toward the water’s edge. The sand buzzed with each drag of my foot.

I stopped well back from the surf, watching the shoreline shift beneath the surging and subsiding waves. I’d take the pleasant pull of Lake Michigan over the powerful Pacific any day. I stared out over the endless expanse of water, feeling farther than ever from the places—and people—I loved.

The sand cushioned my head as I lay with eyes closed, trying to imagine what Brad was doing that very moment back home. He’d have rounded up the bad guys by now, with help from the local and state authorities that had already been investigating the case. So today, Brad would be focused on tying up the loose ends, making things safe for my return. I pictured him settling in at the lake house after a good day’s work, hanging out in the living room with Puppa—my pet name for my grandfather— and Great-grandma Olivia, having a good laugh over the whole escapade. My temporary boarder Melissa Belmont and her two kids would be back in their own home, safe from her abusive husband. And Brad’s sister Samantha would soon be heading to her Coney Island diner in downstate Michigan, having outrun the bad choices of her past once and for all. With my last guest gone, the log cabin would be sitting empty, anticipating my return.

I had only to wait for the convictions that meant jail time for Frank Majestic and his cronies. Then I could go back to Michigan. Back to Brad. Back to the time when it was just the two of us and one joyous, long-lasting future ahead.

A swirl of sand choked me. I sat up, eyes watering in the glare. I rubbed at the bandage on my arm, hoping to brush away the feeling that there was no future with

Brad to return to. Sure, this whole safe-house thing had stalled our wedding plans. But it was only temporary. Nothing would change between us. The next time I saw him, I’d run into his arms and we’d kiss, long and tender, just like we had that last morning in the woods.

Still, the feeling persisted that things were different now. Would Brad meet someone new while I twiddled away time in California? Would he decide that Denton was right and I wouldn’t be the best choice of brides? I pitched a shell toward the water. I didn’t care for Denton Braddock. Not one bit. And I couldn’t shake the notion that Denton knew more about what was going on back home than he was willing to tell. The professor must have been in contact with somebody—Brad, the authorities, or whoever—since the day he’d claimed me at the hospital in Minnesota. His vague answers to my status checks had become annoying.

I lingered in the sand awhile, soaking up more vitamin D and deadly solar rays than I got in a week in Michigan. I dusted the grit off my clothes, tied my sneakers, and began the climb to the top of the cliff. Halfway up, I panicked. The task had been so much easier going down. Now, my shoes couldn’t seem to find a hold in the sliding pebbles. The narrow shelf left me clinging to smooth rock, fighting the pull of gravity that threatened to keel me backward onto the sand so far below.

“Crazy flatlander,” I muttered to myself, frozen in place with sweat stinging my eyes.

“Okay, God,” I whispered to the rocks, “this is where we start bargaining. You get me up this cliff and I promise never to do anything this stupid again.”

Behind me came the scream of a gull. Or maybe a vulture. I was too petrified to turn around and look. The crushing din of the water, an occasional passing car on the road above, and the squeaking cries from my throat became the only sounds to register as the minutes passed. A stone bounced down from above, landing in my hair. A cramp crawled up my leg. It gradually occurred to me that God wasn’t going to send a host of angels to airlift me to safety. It seemed the most the winged beings would do was cheer me on while I figured my own way out of the conundrum.

Eyes closed, I spread my arms against the rock, feeling for the slightest indentation. There it was. A small bump to my left, providing my fingertips with just enough leverage to let me hoist myself another twelve inches along the path. Then I found another hold, and another, until my knees were on fragments of asphalt torn from the road next to me. I clung to the guardrail and let my strength return.

Cars honked as they passed, their blaring horns a substitute for the crazy-lady insults the drivers must have been hurling behind closed windows. I dropped to the ground and leaned against the hot metal.

Such a close call. My hands were still shaking. I took a deep breath and stood, reaching for my tote.

Gone.

I dropped to all fours, patting the ground in disbelief. It had been here. Right behind that shrub. I glanced over the drop-off. No black bag in sight. Had someone pulled over and stolen the thing?

I pondered the unlikely thought as I headed up the hill to Cliffhouse. Losing my tote was no big disaster. The project packet, my notebook, and the bus pass had been its only contents. I could always get a copy of the packet from Denton. Celia could probably help me get a new bus pass from Dean Lester. And notebooks weren’t hard to come by.

I entered Cliffhouse through the side porch. Voices came from the kitchen as I passed. I paused, lingering to identify the speakers. Two women. The one with the Irish accent was no doubt Ms. Rigg. But the other?

My stomach growled. I used it as an excuse to snoop. “Hello,” I said, passing through the swinging door into the room.

The visitor stood to attention, shoving her hands in her pockets and wiping a smile off her face. She looked in her late forties. Bright orange hair dye failed to hide the tell-tale gray. A pale blue shirt over jeans and sandals highlighted her tanned, freckled skin.

“It’s Miss Braddock, Jane dear.” Commandant Rigg nearly clicked her heels at the introduction. “Miss Braddock, this is my daughter. She’s visiting from Los Angeles.” Jane offered a hand. I shook it. Behind her on the countertop was my missing tote.

“Oh my goodness. I thought I’d lost that.” I stepped around the Rigg daughter and sifted through the contents. All accounted for. “Where did you find it?” I turned toward the women.

Jane shrugged, hands in her pockets. “I spotted something behind the guardrail when I pulled in. I investigated,” she pointed at the tote, “and that’s what I found.”

I thought about the pebble that dropped on my head and wondered if it hadn’t been Jane who set it loose.

With a sheepish tilt of my head, I explained. “The bottom didn’t look so far down when I was standing at the top, so I thought I’d check out the surf.” An embarrassed titter. “But coming back up was a different story.” I grinned at Jane. “Wasn’t sure I’d make it up alive to claim my tote. Thanks for keeping it safe.”

“No problem, dear.” Jane gave me a condescending city-slicker smile. “Try taking the stairs next time. They’re just down a half mile.”

“Oh. Thanks.” I nodded. “So, what do you do in LA?” She smiled like a baby boomer magazine cover model. “I’m an actress. I’ve worked with De Niro, Streep, and Barrymore.”

“You worked with Lionel Barrymore?” I loved him from my favorite film classics.

Her face turned red. “Please,” she gave a snort, “I’m not that old. I was speaking of Drew Barrymore.”

“Oh, she’s one of my favorites. Which movie were you in with her?”

“The classic Cinderella tale,
Ever After
.”

“I’ve watched it a million times.” I squinted at Jane’s face. “I don’t remember you offhand. Which character were you?”

“I had a bit part.”

Ms. Rigg could barely restrain her excitement. “She served the prince his supper.” The Irish accent was in high gear. “ ‘Would you care for more wine?’ Jane asked him. It was a beautiful moment. Lovely, she was.”

I shook my head in confusion. “I don’t remember that scene.”

Jane’s glowing smile had simmered to one of annoyance. “Ever hear of the cutting room floor?” She turned to Ms. Rigg. “Please. I can blow my own horn, Mother.” A renewed smile as Jane looked back at me, somehow still in front of the camera. “It won’t be long before I get my starring role. I’m auditioning for a part opposite Crandall this week.”

I hated to tell her I’d never heard of Crandall.

“In the meantime, it’s good that your uncle Denton is a generous provider.” Her voice became sharp. “Though he’s not nearly as generous as his father was.”

Ms. Rigg turned red and her eyes bugged out. “Be careful, Jane. The professor is under no obligation to support you.”

“I see no reason he should support me at all.” Jane’s lips toyed in false thought. “Why, it’s my own inheritance he doles out to me in such very stingy portions.”

I tried to follow along. “Oh? He’s the executor for your estate?” I had a hard time imagining Jane as Denton’s ward.

A twitch of Jane’s eyebrow. “We share the same father,” she said. “Dennie is legit, so he got the money, while I, the illegitimate daughter, was conveniently left out of the will.”

Ms. Rigg’s face spasmed. “Jane, dear. I’ve told you again and again the ambassador was not your father.”

A wave of her hand. “Honestly, Mother. I figured it out by five years old. I’m sure Lenore Braddock did too. That explains why she hated me so much.”

Ms. Rigg’s trembling fingers tapped across her lips. “No, no. She didn’t hate you. She let us stay. She had a million reasons to throw us out, but she never did.”

“My point, exactly. As long as she kept you in her snooty little sight, she knew you wouldn’t go blabbing that the ambassador slept with an Irish barmaid. Nothing but an unspoken form of bribery.” Jane gave a roll of her eyes. “The things the bored and wealthy will do to uphold their reputations.”

An uncomfortable silence descended.

I swung my arms, hoping to get myself moving. “Uhh,” I pointed toward the fridge, “I’m just going to grab a little snack. It was very nice to meet you, Jane.”

I dipped into some cottage cheese as Ms. Rigg and her daughter hightailed it out of the kitchen, Jane laughing like a mischievous seven-year-old as her mother dragged her by the elbow. I leaned against the counter as I ate, detoxing from my crazed climb up the cliff and the equally crazed conversation that followed. Jane dear didn’t strike me as a sugar-and-spice kind of girl. There seemed to be a little more naughty than nice to that woman. I set down my fork and peered through my tote again. The fact that everything was accounted for didn’t ease my suspicions.

Shrugging, I finished my snack. Under the circumstances, I probably couldn’t help but be a tiny bit suspicious of everybody. After a quick cleanup, I slung my tote over my shoulder and headed upstairs.

9

I met Team B at the worksite at 8:00 Wednesday morning. Portia had come up with a detailed schedule that would theoretically allow us to attend our other classes and still finish the project on time and in style.

Today was marked “Demolition Day” on the calendar. “Grab a hammer,” Portia said as I walked in. Koby and Celia apparently hadn’t arrived yet.

“Hello to you too.” I dug through a toolbox, picking out a mini-sledge. Bold orange letters on the handle marked it property of DGC. The Revamp Program supplied the tools and materials for the project. The students provided the labor and know-how. But when it came to imagining a timely completion, I just didn’t know how it was going to happen.

Overwhelmed, I sighed. We’d just have to take things one day at a time. A narrow staircase took me to the second story. Cracked and bowed plaster covered the walls. I snapped a dust mask over my face, slid on a pair of safety glasses, and whaled away with my sledge. My neck jarred with every blow. Muscles in my back flexed and stretched. My heart raced and my ears rang as I lost myself in the mindless battering. An hour or more passed with barely a letup. I’d be sore tomorrow, but nothing beat the feeling of accomplishment that would come when all the walls were bare.

One final swing and I stopped for a break. I sat on the top step and leaned against an exposed stud, listening to the easy chatter going on downstairs between Portia, Koby, and Celia. We’d agreed that I’d cover the second floor work with Portia’s help so Koby and Celia could stay on the main floor. But it sounded like Portia was having too great a time to help me out.

I clomped downstairs. “Hey. Anybody working down here?”

Portia flung me a look. “Back off. We’re allowed to have fun.”

I gave a snort and shake of my head. “Nobody said you weren’t. I was just playing around.”

“Yeah? Well, your jokes aren’t funny.” Portia planted her wrists on her hips.

I lowered my voice. “You’re supposed to be working upstairs with me. I’m not trying to pick a fight, just trying to keep things on schedule.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“Go ahead, Portia,” Celia said. “Me and Koby can handle things down here.”

“Fine.” The ice queen tromped up the steps ahead of me. Huffs of indignation melded with the squeaking treads. Backs to one another, we slung our sledges. After a while, my arms lost feeling.

“Ugh.” Portia dropped her sledge to the floor and leaned against a two-by-four. “It’s eleven. Let’s call it a morning.”

I trekked down the steps behind her, my body protesting as much as the old wood.

“Good work, guys,” Portia said, looking at the progress on the first floor. “Get to class, get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll see you back here in the morning.”

“I’m getting my stitches out tomorrow, so I’ll be running a little late,” I said as we put away the tools and grabbed our bags. Koby and Portia helped Celia through the door and down the steps. Portia checked the lock and hid the key under a stone, and we all headed up Rios Buena Suerta.

“There’s enough money in the budget for a wider front door and a ramp,” Portia said in her all-business voice. “Koby, you want to order the supplies so we can get those in right away? That way if Celia gets here ahead of the rest of us, she can start right in.”