Beauty in Hiding Page 6

  “Okay.” She touched Gramps on his elbow. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  He nodded and focused on the room. It was designed like a living room. It was warm in here. Six recliners faced a TV mounted on the wall. Two were occupied with gray-headed women. Behind the La-Z-Boys, a game table was surrounded by six padded chairs, and three old men were engrossed in a loud conversation and playing cards. Windows along one wall filled the room with natural light. A few lengths of molding leaned against the wall beside a step ladder. That must have been where Jack was working. Jack would take care of Gramps if he needed anything.

  Harper followed Vanessa back into the warehouse, pulled her cell from her purse, and sighed. Two bars here in town. Not great, but at least she had service. She’d had service at the house all day the day before and that morning, too. Maybe it had just been bad on Monday because of the storm. She hoped so. She couldn’t afford another phone.

  She focused on Vanessa. “If you have a piece of paper—”

  “Program my number in your phone. Then, if you need me, you can call.”

  “Uh… okay.” She typed in the phone number as Vanessa rattled it off, then she texted the number with her name. A phone dinged from Vanessa’s pocket.

  “Good,” Vanessa said. “We’re set then.”

  Harper knew it was time to go, but she couldn’t quite figure this woman out. “You give all the clients your phone number?”

  “Almost none. But you… I think I have been where you are, at least on some level. If not for the kindness of strangers, I do not know where I would be. So, I will be a kind stranger to you.”

  Oh. Harper had no idea what to say to that.

  Vanessa waved her toward the back door of the warehouse. “Go out that way and walk around. The front door is locked. I will take Red to get some food and have it ready when you return. Do either of you have food restrictions or allergies?”

  Food. She’d totally forgotten about food. She wanted to hug Vanessa for thinking of it. “He can’t eat anything too spicy. And don’t let him get all junk food.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve done this before.” She nodded toward the door. “Good luck with Bonnie.” Vanessa stepped into the rec center, where voices and laughter floated out.

  Harper headed toward the door. There were people between here and there, volunteers loading shopping bags into waiting cars, others stacking food or sorting produce. This was a big operation for such a small community. She weaved among the people, trading smiles and how-are-yous until she got outside.

  Five minutes later, she stepped into McNeal’s. The scents of coffee and bacon enticed her. The place had a hometown feel to it, with walls painted sage green and decorated with sports paraphernalia and posters. She grinned at all the Patriots, Red Sox, Celtics, and Bruins stuff and looked more closely at the few framed newspaper articles and banners bragging about the Nutfield Squirrels, apparently the local high school’s team, that hung from the wall behind the hostess station. There were TVs in every corner and a very large one on the back wall.

  The dark hardwood of the floor matched the long bar. The walls were lined with booths, and round tables filled the center of the space. Many of the tables were empty, but a few were occupied by folks drinking coffee and enjoying a late breakfast.

  A woman came through the door beside the bar that had to lead to the kitchen. She called, “Be right with ya, hon,” as she carried plates to the couple seated by the front window.

  Harper glanced at a menu. McNeal’s served a full breakfast until eleven, then switched to the lunch and dinner menu. Lots of Irish fare—corned beef and cabbage, Reuben sandwiches, shepherd’s pie. There were multiple hamburger options, a few steak dinners, chicken—grilled, baked, or fried. They served salads, though not for the health-conscious, if the toppings were any indication.

  Comfort food, comfortable surroundings. Harper could see herself working here. It wasn’t ideal, but it would keep her bills paid and food on the table.

  The waitress headed her way. She was maybe five-foot-two and certainly not in bathing-suit shape. She had short curly brown hair and wore a name tag that read Bonnie. “Table for one, hon?”

  “Actually, Vanessa sent me. She thought you might have a job for me.”

  The woman stopped at the hostess station and eyed Harper head to toe. Her lips pinched. The well-worn wrinkles told Harper she’d made that expression before. “You don’t look the waitress type.”

  Harper pushed her hair behind her ears. “What type would that be?”

  The woman shrugged. “No offense. It’s not like people are banging down the door to work here.”

  So far, this wasn’t going as Harper had imagined. “Is it that bad?”

  “Nah. People are just lazy. It’s a great job if you know how to work.” She gave Harper another once-over. “You look a little bit like a princess, tell you the truth.”

  “Then think of me as Cinderella before the prince.”

  The woman cracked a smile, and her whole face changed. “I like the wit. I’m Bonnie Wells.” She thrust out her hand, and Harper shook it.

  “Harper Cloud.”

  “Good to meet you. Come on in, and let’s have a chat.”

  Harper followed Bonnie to the back of the room, where Bonnie indicated a chair at the bar. “Sit. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the back, returned with an application and a pen. “Fill this out.” After Bonnie rushed away, Harper sat on the wooden barstool and filled out the application. She stopped when she got to the question that would keep her from getting hired.

  Have you ever been convicted of a felony?

  Her hand hovered over the honest answer, but she didn’t check the box.

  How could she? If she didn’t get a job, she and Gramps would be lost.

  She ignored her conscience, shot up a quick forgive me, and checked No.

  As Harper was completing her employment history, Bonnie returned. “You done?”

  Harper looked up and smiled. “Just a few more jobs to add.”

  “Any waitressing experience?”

  “Yeah. I worked a cocktail lounge in Vegas.” She hadn’t done a lot of waiting tables, but she’d done enough for it to qualify. She didn’t figure Bonnie would care about her kitchen duty in prison.

  “Other jobs you’re adding—are they waitressing?”

  “No. When I was in high school—”

  “We’re good then.” Bonnie snatched the application and looked it over. “You’re a nurse?”

  “Used to be.”

  “So why not get a job doing that?”

  “I really need something close by, and fast.”

  The woman eyed her a moment, and Harper braced for more questions. But all Bonnie said was, “What hours can you work?”

  “The lunch shift would be ideal. I care for my grandfather, and he’ll need more attention in the evenings and mornings.”

  “I can’t guarantee you’ll only get lunch shifts, but we can try. If I can’t, can you make arrangements for your grandfather?”

  Harper swallowed, smiled. “Sure. I’ll work something out.”

  Bonnie looked over the application, and her eyebrows lifted. “Dancer? What kind of dancer?”

  Of course she’d pick up on that one. “The kind you’re imagining.”

  Bonnie leaned back almost imperceptibly. But Harper noticed. Keep your distance from the stripper. She might be diseased.

  She imagined how Bonnie would react if she knew the whole truth.

  “I don’t do that anymore,” Harper said. “Believe me, I could make a lot more money if I did.”

  Bonnie’s lips pinched again as she regarded Harper. “I bet you could.” She tsked, paused, tsked again. “Lots of women would lie. I appreciate your honesty.”

  Harper couldn’t speak for the sawdust wedged in her throat. Honesty. If she were truly honest, nobody would ever hire her for anything.

  But Bonnie didn’t pick up on the guilt that felt as solid
as the seat beneath her. “Can you start tomorrow?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jack finished caulking around the crown molding and returned the ladder to the warehouse. The food bank’s clients were gone, and only a few volunteers remained, their keys jingling from fingertips as they finished up conversations.

  Vanessa was in her office. Just outside her door stood a shopping cart loaded with food. That must have been what they’d collected for Red and Harper.

  Jack returned to the rec center for his tools. Red was seated at the game table with Steve, the father of one of the board members. Ever since Steve had been coming here instead of rattling around his big house alone all day, his health and memory had improved. Amazing what a little companionship could do.

  As a member of the board, Jack had been happy to volunteer his services to build this room. His own folks were still going strong, but one day he hoped they’d have somewhere like this to spend time.

  “Jack, come over here,” Red called from the table. “I need you to prove me right.”

  “Fat chance, old man.” Steve’s eyes narrowed as Jack approached. “You know the movie with Marilyn Monroe and Jack Lemmon?”

  “Can’t say that I do,” Jack said.

  “Come on, boy.” Red shook his head as if he’d never heard anything so preposterous. “It’s called Some Like it Hot. ’Course you’ve seen it.”

  “That’s not the name of it,” Steve said. “That was that other movie with Marilyn and Jane Russell.”

  “No, that’s…” Red paused, seemed to be digging through very dusty file cabinets in his mind. “Don’t tell me. It’ll come to me.”

  Jack pulled out his cell. “I can figure it out.”

  The men continued to argue while Jack typed on his keyboard. He got the answer and looked up. “Sorry, Steve. Some Like it Hot has Marilyn, Jack Lemmon, and—”

  “Tony Curtis,” Steve said. “Just like I told you.”

  Red’s eyes bulged. “You said that was that other movie.” He snapped his fingers. “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.”

  Steve shook his head, though his eyes twinkled. “That’s the one with Jane Russell.”

  “That’s what I…!” Red looked at Jack for backup, but Jack just lifted his hands and stepped away. “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

  “You just call me a monkey, boy?” Steve said.

  “More like an elephant with those ears,” Red said.

  Steve cupped his dinner-plate sized ear. “What’d you say?”

  Red started to repeat himself, then laughed. He banged the table beside him with age-spotted hands. “Sit down, son. Want to join us for a game of cards?”

  Jack pulled out the chair and sat. “You guys play without me.”

  “In my day, a man wouldn’t turn down a game of cards.” Steve shuffled and shook his head.

  Red turned his sharp gaze on Jack. “So, you’re in real estate.”

  “Just dabbling right now, but—”

  “Why you dabbling?” Red asked. “Jump in. Real estate’s a great investment.”

  “I know, but there’s only so much time. And money.”

  Red waved off the words. “You don’t risk your own money. You gotta find investors, look for houses you can assign to come up with the cash.”

  Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Not sure what you mean by that.”

  Red shot a look at Steve, who was still shuffling cards. “You believe this guy?”

  Steve straightened the cards against the table. “You find a property that’s going for cheap, get a contract, then turn around and sell it for a little more, a couple thousand. You did the legwork finding the place, so your buyer’s happy for the deal. They know you’re making money, but if they do it right, they will too. Everybody wins.”

  Jack’s gaze went from one man to the other. “Were you both in real estate?”

  “Just a little,” Steve said. “I never got into assigning properties, but I always wanted to. Just too busy with the day job. I bought a few multi-families in Manchester back in the eighties. Held on to them, too. In my day, we didn’t do all that house flipping like you young people do.”

  “You said it,” Red said. “How’d those buildings work out?”

  “Had to weather some storms,” Steve said, “but I held onto them. Just sold them a few years back when I retired. The hassle, you know?”

  Red nodded. “I still own a few of my properties, but I have a management company taking care of them. It’s rough. I have to trust them.” He turned his gaze back to Jack. “That’s the biggest thing, son. Knowing who you can trust. It’s not like it was in my day. Back then, a handshake meant something. People kept their word. These days, most folks’ll sell you out for a couple bucks. And not just strangers, either.” The light in his eyes dimmed at that, and he focused on the table.

  After a beat, Jack said, “Maybe you guys could teach me some stuff. I can use all the help I can get.”

  Red’s gaze snapped up. “Happy to, son. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  Steve snorted. “Five minutes later, you can come find me.”

  The men were laughing when the door swung open and Harper stepped in.

  Steve whistled. “Who’s the looker?”

  Harper blushed and focused on her grandfather.

  “Did you get the job?” Red asked.

  Her smile lit the room as if someone had flipped a switch. “I start tomorrow.”

  “Well, then.” Red pounded the table. “I’m proud of you, girl. And that’ll be perfect, ’cause I can come back here and hang out while you’re at work.”

  Harper’s glance flicked to Jack.

  “Sounds like a good plan,” he said. “Let me grab those groceries for you. Did you park out back?”

  Ten minutes later, he’d loaded the groceries in Harper’s trunk and helped Red to the car. He promised to stop by soon and closed the door. Harper was standing beside the trunk, so he joined her there. “Congratulations on the new job.”

  “Thanks.” She swallowed, seemed to want to say more, so he kept quiet. “Jack, it’s been a long time since…” Her voice faded, and she forced a smile, though the tremble he saw on her lower lip told him there was a lot going on behind those beautiful blue eyes. “Your kindness has meant the world to me. I can’t even begin to…” She swallowed again.

  “All I did was—”

  “Bring us dinner, build a ramp, tell us about this place, get them to let Red hang out, help me find a job. Not to mention yesterday, when Gramps was…”

  When she didn’t finish, he reached out, rested his palm against her arm. Even through her thick jacket, the touch sent a zing all the way to his toes. He pulled his hand away. “It was my pleasure. Truly.”

  “It’s been a long time since anybody’s gone out of the way to help me.”

  He couldn’t imagine that. She was sweet and caring and, frankly, drop-dead gorgeous. He figured people would fall all over themselves to help her.

  The emotion behind her eyes told a very different story.

  “I was happy to do it. And your grandfather promised to teach me about real estate, so I might be hanging around more than you want.”

  Her eyes lit, and another zing coursed through. Yikes, this woman had an effect on him.

  “Gramps invested his savings from his government job and made himself a very wealthy man.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her face paled. “Of course, that was a long time ago. He doesn’t invest anymore.”

  Except Red had just told Jack he still owned properties—rentals and the big million-dollar home in Maryland.

  “Anyway,” Harper said, “thanks again. I’d better get home and feed him lunch. He doesn’t do well when he’s hungry.”

  Jack watched as Harper pulled away, taking the rest of her story with her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Knowing there was food in the fridge and a job to go to today had been good medicine for Harper. Answered prayers made for a restful
night. She felt safe here, safer than she’d felt in a long time. That icky paranoia that had followed her off and on since she’d been released from prison was gone. For now.

  While coffee brewed, she showered and tried not to worry about all the things that could go wrong today. Gramps would have to be lucid, willing to take his meds, and eager to go back to the rec center. She’d have to pack him a lunch so he’d have something to eat while she worked, and then he’d have to remember to eat it. Meanwhile, she’d have to learn a new job and get done before the rec center closed at three.

  It should work. She’d been told she’d be working ten-thirty to two. But if she had a table that didn’t want to leave or if her replacement didn’t show up or if Bonnie decided she needed her to stay longer…

  She squeezed her eyes shut and rinsed her hair. You’ll have to handle all those ifs, Lord.

  She waited for some reassurance that her day would be as smooth as Gramps’s bald head. None came, and she wasn’t surprised. It seemed God didn’t give a lot of details. She could use a few concrete answers right now. And not just about her day.

  Since the storm had passed, her phone had had decent reception at the house. The internet was slow, but it worked. She’d spent the previous afternoon trying to find out what the police knew about those two dead bodies she’d discovered in the living room back in Maryland. One had been Keith Williams, a Baltimore detective. She’d known that already. She’d called 911 from a pay phone right after she and Red had left the house Thursday night, but The Baltimore Sun had no information, nor did their little local paper. If the bodies had been discovered in the city, no news might make sense. But two murdered men—one a cop—found in the living room of a mansion near the bay? Surely somebody would pick up that story.

  Harper had even checked the TV stations’ websites for something, anything. She’d turned up no information whatsoever, no mention of bodies being found, and no mention of missing men.

  A week had passed, and there’d been no news.