Spackled and Spooked by Jennie Bentley Read Free Book Online Page B

with in your twenties,” mother agreed diplomatically. “And then of course there was Philippe. . . .”
    “Don’t remind me.” Lying, cheating, philandering—and that was without counting how he’d made me totally subjugate my creativity to his in business. “Derek isn’t like that. He values my input. He may not agree with it all the time, but when I suggest something he doesn’t like, he tells me why it won’t work or why I shouldn’t do it, instead of just putting his foot down or trying to make me feel stupid.”
    There didn’t seem to be anyone on the front porch. It had probably just been one of the cats walking across the wooden boards. I had noticed before how Jemmy, with his roughly twenty pounds, could make himself sound remarkably like a human. Nevertheless, I unfolded myself from the sofa and padded toward the front door on bare feet, extolling Derek’s virtues as I went.
    “He’s talented, and intelligent, and has a great sense of humor, and he was confident enough to follow his dreams and walk away from a medical career to be a home renovator instead, even if it meant possibly upsetting his father and although it definitely meant that his wife would leave him, not that she was much of a loss; things were already pretty rocky. . . .”
    I had to stop to take a breath, having talked myself into a semantic corner anyway. The outside light next to the door was lit, and I peered out, seeing nothing that shouldn’t be there. Carrying on, I said, “And he’s really good-looking, although not in a flashy way; you know, the way Philippe was . . .” My ex-boyfriend favored skin-tight leather pants and flowing poet-shirts open halfway down his tanned chest, while his replacement spends most of his time in threadbare jeans and soft, faded T-shirts that make me want to snuggle closer. “And although he likes it when I dress up and look nice, he doesn’t expect me to be perfect all the time, either. It’s very relaxing, actually.”
    Away from the porch, down in the yard, a shadow moved. I leaned forward until my nose hit the glass in the carved front door. It was impossible to see who—or what—was there; the darkness distorted size and shape until all I was looking at was a slightly darker blackness, something sliding along the white pickets of the fence before slipping through the gate and out into the street. It might have been a cat or a dog, or maybe a raccoon or a fox. We see them occasionally. I let out a breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding.
    “Something wrong?” my mother asked.
    I straightened up. “Nothing.” She was on the West Coast, clear across the country; there was nothing she could do about someone or something in my yard. Nothing except worry, and there was no point in that. Whoever or whatever was gone anyway.
    “Oh,” mother said. “Well, I’m looking forward to meeting Derek. I don’t suppose you two have any plans to come out to California anytime soon?”
    “None, I’m afraid. What about you? Any plans to come back east? There’s still a lot of Aunt Inga’s stuff sitting around for you to look through, just in case there’s something you’d like to have.”
    I fully expected her to say she had no plans whatsoever of coming back to Waterfield, so I was surprised when she hesitated. “Between you and me, Avery, I’m trying to convince Noel to go to Maine for Christmas. I miss the snow, and being a native Californian, he’s never experienced a true New England winter. But it isn’t a done deal yet. I’ll let you know how it turns out.”
    “I’ll put Derek on alert,” I said. Mother giggled, and we finished the conversation by making plans. It wasn’t until I was in bed, listening to the yowling complaints of Jemmy and Inky, who didn’t want to be locked in the utility room instead of stalking prey in the night outside, that I once again remembered the shadow in the yard. But by then I was so tired that all I had time to do was wonder who or what