ExcerptFrom Chapter Two of Where Her Heart Is
Early the next morning Betsy was jolted awake by a terrible noise. It took a moment to realize where she was. Could someone have broken into the house? She quickly locked the bedroom door, dialed
A few minutes later she heard a car approaching. When she looked out the window, a police cruiser pulled to a stop in the drive and a blue-uniformed officer emerged and disappeared under the front porch roof as he ascended the steps. There was also a beat-up maroon pickup truck in the driveway. Where had that come from? Then she heard men laughing downstairs, and she stomped down to investigate.
At the front door were two handsome men. One was wearing a police uniform. The other, wearing ratty jeans and a brown pocket tee shirt, was none other than Mike McClain, LizBeth Ann’s father and Betsy’s almost ex-husband.
The two seemed to be enjoying their little joke, and didn’t notice Betsy until she stepped to within a foot of them.
“Oh! Mornin’, ma’am. Betsy? Huh! I didn’t know you were back in town,” the officer said with a quirky grin.
What’s his problem? She spared him merely a glance. “I’m just visiting, Matt.” She tried to pin his companion with a glare. “Michael.”
“Betsy.” He didn’t make eye contact, but looked at the top of her head.
“What in the world are you doing here?” she asked him.
He rubbed at the stubble on his face and sighed deeply.
“I’m working here. For Greg Andrews. You might also remember this is my home town.” Then he frowned and locked eyes with her. “A better question is, what are you doing here?”
Matt Branson held up one hand. “Uh. I’m guessing your intruder call is a wash, huh? Looks like I’m not needed here. That right?”
Betsy shot him another glance, then glared at Mike. “Well. I suppose. But thank you for coming.”
“It’s my job. ’Bye then. ’Bye, Mike.”
“Yeah. See you, Matt.”
The officer stole a last look behind him before closing the front door quietly as he left. Was he chuckling?
Great. Back home in Bubbaville. She took several deep breaths to calm her anger before setting the unexpected carpenter straight on just who was in charge here. But before she could form a word, he spoke.
“I guess you’re not an early riser, but that’s not a problem for me since I have a key. Hope you don’t mind the noise of this crowbar pulling nails. It puts some folks’ teeth on edge.” He walked to the library, and the screeching started again. He hadn’t seemed to notice—or care about—Betsy’s stunned silence.
She stalked to the library, picked her way over some refuse and stood near him, hands on her hips.
“You’re not going to ignore me, Michael McClain.”
He sighed, sat back on his heels and looked up at her. “I’m guessing you won’t let me do that.”
“Exactly. Why didn’t Dorothy tell me you were the carpenter?”
“Hell if I know, Betsy. She sure didn’t tell me you were coming to town. She just said a friend of theirs would be coming to Legend to house-sit while they’re gone. D’you think I’d be here if I’d known the friend was you?”
“How would I know what you’d do? How would I know anything about you? I never hear from you. LizBeth Ann never hears from you. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on in your mind, Michael. I guess I never did.” She turned on her heel and left, then spun around in the hall and looked at him again. “I suggest you call your employer and tell him to have someone else do this job. Heaven forbid you would have to spend a moment’s time with your daughter!” She pulled the second walnut pocket door with such force that it slammed into the first one.
“Hey! Easy with those!” she heard him yell as she headed up the stairs.
0 comments:
Post a Comment