Frankie's Back in Town, page 7
She couldn’t help but laugh, although she wanted to resist this man. With every ounce of reason, she wanted to resist. But she sat so close, lulled by the breaking dawn and the stillness broken only by the steady hum of the powerful engine. She was glimpsing sides of him that she’d never met before, and that only deepened the intimacy of the moment. He was Jack Sloan, after all, she reminded herself. And she was only human.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AFTER WATCHING FRANKIE disappear inside the dark house, Jack had to remind himself to put the car into gear and reverse out of the driveway. What was it with this woman? She continually caught him off guard. If he wasn’t noticing how beautiful she was, he was noticing how easily she laughed.
Frankie wasn’t what he expected, which made him question when he’d formulated those expectations. Truth was he didn’t know much about her. Except that she was attracted to him.
As attracted to him as he was to her?
Jack could only hope. And he did.
That surprised him.
So as he drove to his parents’ place, he considered what he actually knew about Frankie, not what he’d heard.
A few obvious things stood out. She took her job and her responsibility to Greywacke Lodge’s residents seriously. She had a sense of humor about life and herself. She hadn’t gone to pieces or made excuses about her appearance today. And though she was obviously post-workout, she’d made windblown and breathless a striking combination. Exercise had brightened her gray eyes and flushed her cheeks. And her mouth…the cold had made her mouth look like it might after she’d been kissed.
Jack hadn’t thought about kissing anyone in a while.
So, as he pulled into the driveway at the home he’d grown up in, he evaluated whether or not he needed this investigation to continue indefinitely so he had access to Frankie or conclude quickly so he could ask her on a date.
He wouldn’t break any real rules by asking her out. She was a contact person on this investigation, not a suspect, but Jack knew how things worked in Bluestone. With the rumor mill already grinding, any personal interest he expressed in Frankie would only fuel the talk even more. And undermine the very reason he worked with Randy on this case.
Damned place was a fishbowl.
He no sooner shoved open the door when he heard a familiar voice ask, “Are you okay? Did someone die?”
Jack had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed his mother walking up behind the car. He glanced up at her, looking fresh and ready to take on the day even though the sun wasn’t officially up yet.
She’d always been an early riser, so he wasn’t surprised to see she was casually dressed beneath the wool coat that hung open despite the cold.
“What are you doing out here?”
She motioned a slender hand toward the street. “Just getting the recycling bin out before the collection. Your father forgot when he left this morning.”
“Dad only forgets because he knows you’ll do it for him.”
She eyed him curiously. “We made a mistake by not trying harder to give you a sibling, didn’t we? I figured if we were meant to have a bigger family, we would. When I didn’t get pregnant, I just assumed it wasn’t meant to be. Your father and I discussed the situation with the doctor a number of times, but we didn’t have too many options back then. Not like now with fertility specialists and in vitro and surrogate—”
“Mom,” Jack interrupted. He had to stop her. She was making his head spin and he hadn’t gotten out of the car yet. “What are you talking about?”
She folded her arms across her chest and stared down at him with a look he knew intimately. Disapproval.
“Aren’t you listening?”
“I’m listening, but you’re not making any sense.”
“I’m talking about the disservice your father and I did you when we left you an only child. We even discussed adoption.”
“You’re still not making any sense.”
She took in a deep breath, part exasperation, part sigh, all disapproval that she had to explain herself. “If you’d have had a sibling, at least one, you might not think the sun spins around your little world. You might have some comprehension of what’s involved in making a relationship work.”
He motioned her back then got out of the car, so he could stare down at her and level the playing field. “This is about canceling on Jessica, isn’t it?”
“No. This is about you and the fact that I don’t want to see you wind up a lonely old man after I’m dead and buried. Look at your grandfather. Does he look like he’s having much fun holed up in that house of his day in and day out?” She scowled. “You don’t seem to have a clue that it takes two people working together to make a relationship work. Probably because you don’t have many relationships that last long enough for you to figure that out.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but she held up a hand to stop him. “And don’t tell me that you’re looking for the quote perfect woman. Your father already tried that.”
“But I—”
“I did not raise an idiot, Jack. You know there is no such thing as perfect.”
He wasn’t going to touch that one. Not when she was tearing into him. His father had warned him, after all. Normally Jack would have kissed her, handed over the dog bones, claimed his meeting was earlier than it was, and made his getaway.
But today he actually had something to offer that might appease his mother. The truth was that he’d invited this rant. Not because he’d canceled on Jessica Mathis—that was his business and not subject to her approval no matter what his mother thought—but because he hadn’t been making time for his family. His mother wouldn’t come out and say that.
“How about perfect for me, then?” he asked. “I’m not interested in Jessica. But I met someone I am interested in.”
Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened for the interrogation of who, what and when to start planning the wedding.
“Don’t get too excited,” he cautioned. “I haven’t asked her on a date yet.”
“But you’re interested?”
He gave a decided nod. “I’m interested.”
“And she’s interested, too?”
“I think so. But the situation is a little complicated because of work, so I can’t just ask her out.”
His mother’s expression positively lit up. And Jack couldn’t help but smile with that pride he’d known his whole life to have such a beautiful mom, inside and out. Even when she was launching into him. Because she cared so much. And when Jack remembered his father’s recent admonitions about making time to work out together, Jack decided that maybe, just maybe, he might have to give their concerns some thought.
He’d never made a choice to eliminate everything from his life in favor of work. Not consciously, anyway. But when he considered the past few years, he could see a trend. His job had always claimed the top slot in his priorities, but since becoming police chief, the job took more time.
Suddenly, her hand was on his sleeve and she was lifting up to kiss his cheek. “Come on in. Michaela’s baking up a storm in there, and the coffee’s fresh. I want to hear everything.”
“Sure I’m not catching you at an inconvenient time? I should have called.” Then Jack went for the kill. “But I heard Gus-Gus wasn’t doing well, so I wanted to drop by.”
His mother’s expression collapsed. “My poor baby. I honestly don’t know what life will be like without him.”
Jack didn’t ask how she’d notice one dog missing from that herd of hers. He just reached into the car for the bones and presented them as a peace offering.
“Oh, Jack. That’s so sweet.” A hug this time.
Jack couldn’t help smiling as he followed her inside to pay his respects to the sick and clue his mother in on Frankie.
All was well.
But his feeling of well-being lasted only until he returned to the station.
“You always miss the fun around here,” Randy informed him after Jack had walked the gauntlet through Communications to various greetings and updates about open investigations.
“What have you got?” he asked.
Randy motioned to a stack of computer printouts. “Someone’s been having a field day with the Hickmans’ good credit. Their daughter faxed me permission to access her parents’ credit reports, and I hit the mother lode. Four new credit card accounts with high limits were opened between five and six months ago.”
Not good. “Status on the accounts?”
“All delinquent. No surprise there.” Randy gave a snort of disgust. “I’m sorry, but there’s something seriously wrong with an industry that issues this much credit without oversight.”
“No argument there.” Credit card companies were in the business of making money, and the only way they could do that was by issuing credit and taking some risk. But Randy was dead-on about the oversight.
“These companies just sent the cards, which were maxed out almost immediately, and they’re still sending late payment notices. I suppose eventually they’ll turn the Hickmans over to a credit collection agency.”
“Basically we’re only investigating because Hickman filed the report about his missing wallet.”
“Score one for Dateline.” Randy frowned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m pulling my credit reports from the Big Three pronto. Just to make sure someone isn’t scamming on my dime.”
Jack cocked a hip on the desk and thumbed through the reports. “Purchases in Texas and New Mexico?”
“And Arizona and Nevada,” Randy added. “Four states—one for each card. How’s that for systematic?”
Arizona. Damn it. That would feed the talk about Frankie even more.
“Says something about our perp. But how is this possible?” Jack asked, annoyed. “I can’t even use credit at a gas pump out of state without my bank leaving twenty messages asking why my purchasing habits have changed.”
“That’s because you have purchasing habits. These were brand-new credit cards. The purchases were made in the same cities and states as the billing addresses on the accounts. No reason for red flags to start flying. Not yet, anyway. They like it when people max out their cards and have to pay all that interest.”
Jack knew what this meant. “We’re talking about identity theft.”
He also knew of at least one person who would be happy with the news. Gary Trant, Bluestone’s mayor. Now the BMPD wouldn’t have to turn the investigation over to the U.S. Secret Service.
But Jack’s precinct had just stumbled into a hornet’s nest. “Our perp is methodical and organized. Shouldn’t be too hard to nail him. How did you want to proceed?”
“We’ll start with whoever has access to the Hickmans’ personal information. That’ll be family members—”
“And the Greywacke Lodge employees who found the wallet when Hickman lost it.”
Randy nodded. “The most obvious suspects. We’ve got to look at every staff person who can walk inside the Hickmans’ apartment and those who bill for services and insurance.”
This brought this investigation around to the exact place Jack didn’t want to be.
Greywacke Lodge administration.
And the woman he was interested in.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I’LL TAKE IT FROM HERE, Otis,” Francesca said. “Appreciate the help.”
“Any time, Ms. Raffa.”
She smiled at the lodge’s maintenance supervisor and all-around handyman while hurrying past to open the apartment door. Otis wheeled the luggage carrier into the hallway and headed toward the service elevator.
Francesca shut the door. “There you go, Nonna. You and the china are reunited. Sorry it took so long.”
“Not to worry.” Nonna shuffled out of the kitchen, where she’d been keeping out of Otis’s way. “Everything in its time. I know how busy you’ve been.”
Concetta Cesarini might have come over from Italy as an excited young bride, but sixty some-odd years later, she’d matured into a little Italian granny. Barely brushing five feet, she was all soft edges and knowing smiles beneath a head of white curls. She didn’t miss a trick, though, a quality Francesca couldn’t believe she’d missed all those years ago.
The oblivion of youth.
Nonna had always been a laid-back, understanding sort, thankfully. Anyone less laid-back and understanding might have smothered her problematic granddaughter with a pillow during the turbulent teen years. A quality Francesca was trying hard to emulate with Gabrielle.
With a quick step, she reached out, wrapped her arms around Nonna’s slight shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“If memory serves, and it doesn’t always, you’ve been telling me at least once a day since you came home.”
Came home. Surprisingly, Francesca wouldn’t argue that sentiment. She did feel as if she’d come home. Once she’d hated Bluestone Mountain so much she couldn’t have left fast enough. But maybe that urgency had more to do with her feelings of not belonging than anything else. Certainly not with the love her grandmother had shown her while growing up.
“Your memory seems to be working fine. I’m trying to make up for all the days when I wasn’t around to tell you.”
“Think I’ll live that long?”
“Nonna!”
“Don’t Nonna me, Francesca Celeste Marie. You were gone a long time.” Her expression brightened with humor. “But I’ll hang on as long as I can. I like having you around. You’ve grown up to be a wonderful mother. I did my job.”
And with that she headed toward the storage containers now propped in the middle of her living room. Swallowing a lump of emotion, Francesca watched Nonna take each small, careful step in embroidered silk slippers, her contentment obvious as she ran bony fingers along the edge of a container.
“Nothing chipped?” she asked.
“Not a thing,” Francesca promised. “I can vouch for that personally, since I washed and wrapped each and every piece myself. Gabrielle helped with the bubble wrap. Hence the size of the storage containers. Will they still fit in your closet?”
“We’ll make room.”
No doubt. Nonna would get that china in the closet if she had to donate half her wardrobe to charity.
Nonna’s one-bedroom apartment might be the smallest of the floor plans Greywacke Lodge offered, but it proved to have ample storage space. The containers easily fit in beside Nonna’s shoe tree beneath the neatly stacked boxes of beads and sequins she hadn’t been able to part with after leaving her workshop.
“How’s this look?” Francesca asked as she backed out of the closet and straightened her jacket. “You’ll still be able to move around them to get to your coats?”
“No worries.” Nonna gave a sigh. “They’ll be safe and sound until you find a nice man. I’ll give the set to you for your wedding gift. The way I did your mama.”
That was a loaded statement in so many different ways. “That’s so sweet, Nonna. But I already told you. No men for me right now. I’m too busy being a mom and a director and a granddaughter. I’m quite content. And busy.” Francesca eased shut the closet door then sat at the table to enjoy the coffee Nonna had brewed. “How about you? Is it feeling like home yet?”
“Still like a holiday.”
“I’m really not surprised. You eat every meal with your friends and play bingo three times a week. It’s a party around here.” She grinned. “Don’t you think you deserve some fun?”
“I do.” Nonna smiled. “But you know what the best part is?”
Francesca shook her head.
“Spending time with you and Gabrielle. I’m glad you’re back. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss my chance to know my great-granddaughter. She’s such a delight.”
Nonna’s big brown eyes grew misty, her smile moist around the edges. Every word was so heartfelt that Francesca grabbed Nonna’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. There weren’t really any words. Or if there were, she didn’t have them.
Lifting Nonna’s hand, Francesca pressed a kiss to her warm skin, to fingers that had seen so many years of hard work.
“You know.” Her voice was a whisper that lingered between them even as she released Nonna’s hand. “If you’re having second thoughts about this move, you can change your mind. At the rate I’m packing…My offer stands. Live with me and Gab. We can sell the house if you’re worried about all the work it needs and can find a place comfortable for all of us to live in.”
Nonna met Francesca’s gaze and said, “I know.”
“Nothing’s written in stone with the lodge. You know as well as I do there’s a waiting list to get an apartment here, and we keep adding names. If you’re not happy—”
“I’m not unhappy, dear.” Nonna reached for her coffee cup and brought it to her lips, a slow-motion effort of coordination and strength.
“Does not unhappy translate into more happy and less unhappy or the other way around?”
Nonna shrugged. “Both, and neither.”
“Is this some Italian dialect I never learned? Would you mind translating?”
“It means that at my age, I need to be practical.”
Francesca braced herself, sensing the oncoming reality check and knowing she wasn’t going to like it one bit. “You can be practical living with your family.”
“I am. That’s why I’m here. I came up with this brilliant idea, if you recall.”
“The idea is only brilliant if you’re happy,” she pointed out. “I considered your idea, so I think you should return the favor. I didn’t suggest moving in together because I knew you wouldn’t take me up on the offer. I offered because I think it’s a practical alternative to your brilliant idea.”
Nonna raised her cup, whispered, “Salute,” before taking another sip. After a moment, she said, “I can’t keep up with things the way I did. There’s cooking, cleaning, laundry. The lodge takes care of all that now.”
“I know, but Gabrielle and I take care of those things at home. You’re one extra person. Hardly a lot more work.”
