‘I have no doubt she will,’ Scarlett said dryly. ‘That woman is old, not dead. She has an appreciation for the male form. She paints, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up on one of her canvases.’
He grinned at Scarlett’s sideways compliment. ‘Really? That wouldn’t be so bad.’
‘She only paints nudes.’
Marcus coughed. ‘Well. I’m . . . Thank you, Scarlett. Now I have that image in my mind.’
‘Hey, you’re the one who tangled with her.’
‘I only got out to check the license plates on the Land Cruiser. They were covered in mud.’
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. ‘When was this?’
‘Late March.’
‘Ah, we’d just had some snow.’ She motioned with her hand. ‘So, keep going.’
She was enjoying this, he realized. Which was fine with him. ‘Well, your neighbor takes her watch responsibilities seriously. She saw me checking out the Land Cruiser and came out to your driveway. “Young man,”’ he mimicked in a falsetto, ‘“do you mind telling me why you’re on Detective Bishop’s property? The woman owns guns, boy. Lots of guns.”’
Scarlett laughed. ‘She didn’t really say that.’
Marcus thought he could watch her laugh all day. And all night. ‘She totally did, I swear it. I told her that I was interested in buying the Land Cruiser and asked if she knew the name of the owner. She told me that you owned it and always had. I was very relieved.’
‘You could have just run my plates,’ Scarlett said tartly. ‘I’m sure you have the resources to do that.’
‘I do, and I did,’ he said. ‘The search confirmed what she said. Anyway, I did it mainly because I needed to know if I had a chance or if you were already taken. I’m sorry. I should have just asked Deacon. I thought you should know in case your neighbor remembers me.’
‘She will. She’s almost ninety, but she’s still sharp as a tack.’
‘I got that. I like your house, by the way,’ he said as they pulled into the driveway next to the Land Cruiser. The old Victorian was a charming cacophony of colors. ‘It has character.’
Staring up at it, she sighed. ‘It looks like a patchwork quilt right now. The old owners painted it willy-nilly with whatever was on sale. Purple, pink, green. Chartreuse, even. Don’t get me wrong, I like bright colors, but I want it to be authentic. I’ve been sanding it, getting it ready to paint it again.’
‘What color did you pick?’
‘Blue,’ she said with a smile. ‘A bright robin’s-egg blue with butterscotch trim. It was the original color when it was built in 1880. I found an old photo in the historical society’s archives with the colors listed on the back. It’s slow going, though. I’m nervous about using a power sander, so I’ve been doing it all by hand.’
‘You’re sanding it yourself? By hand? I thought you had six brothers.’
‘I do. Two of them are married with kids, so they have no free time. Two others are cops and work weird hours, so they’re never off when I am. One is a musician. He plays the cello with the Cincinnati Pops.’ She wiggled her fingers. ‘He can’t risk his hands.’
Marcus rolled his eyes, getting out of the car when she did and following her up to the garage door. ‘I play an instrument and I do plenty of sanding with my hands.’ He wiggled his fingers and she gave him a smile that was half shy and half seduction – and he wasn’t even sure she knew she did so.
‘I know you play the guitar. I heard it on the videos. I . . . I liked it very much.’
He wanted to grab her and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. ‘It’s just a hobby. I guess if it were my living, I’d be more careful with my hands.’
‘No, you’re right. There are plenty of things Nathaniel could do to help me around here, but he’s the baby of the family and Mama won’t let us put a tool belt on him.’ She leaned in a fraction and whispered, ‘But he sneaks over here sometimes to help me in my workshop. Don’t tell my mother.’
‘Your secret is safe with me,’ he said, and watched for her reaction.
Her blue eyes flickered with memory, her smile fading. ‘I think it just might be,’ she murmured, making his heart do a slow roll inside his chest.
They’d had this conversation before, back when he’d been in the hospital. Except their lines had been reversed. She’d remembered – not only the exact words, but she’d heard the nuance in his voice that day and now she reproduced it.
Trust, he thought. They were building trust. It was a damn good start.
Abruptly she bent over and yanked up one of the two garage doors before he could even offer to help. He waited until she’d straightened to say, ‘That was only five.’
She blinked. ‘What?’
‘You said you have six brothers but only mentioned five.’
She moved her shoulders uncomfortably. ‘Phin went to Iraq and came back somebody different. He moved down South a while back, but we don’t know where. We don’t hear from him that often.’
‘Oh.’ Marcus sighed. ‘That happened to a lot of men I knew over there. I’m sorry.’
‘Thanks. We’re twins, so he was always there until I went to college and he joined up. Now he’s gone and I miss him.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I figured you’d want the nickel tour, so we’ll start here.’
‘Scar-lett!’ They turned to find her elderly neighbor standing on the front porch next door, waving to them. ‘You forgot to introduce me to your young man.’
‘I didn’t want to bother you, Mrs Pepper.’
The old woman gave her a stern look. ‘Stuff and nonsense. Come here, young man. Closer.’ She crooked a finger, and Marcus obeyed, walking across the grass to the old woman’s front lawn. ‘Closer. My eyes aren’t so good anymore.’
‘Pfff,’ Scarlett said, but followed him as he obeyed, getting right up against her porch railing and looking up to meet a pair of sharp, intelligent eyes. He cocked a brow, wondering if she remembered him. The woman’s eyes twinkled, giving him his answer. ‘I like this one,’ she told Scarlett. ‘Much better than that other one. This one’s got a pure aura. The other one . . .’ She made a face. ‘I’m glad you gave him his walking papers.’
Marcus glanced over at Scarlett, his brows nearly leaping off his forehead he raised them so high in question. ‘Other one?’
Scarlett’s cheeks were flushed. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, Mrs Pepper, but we’re pressed for time. I just came home to walk Zat.’
‘Of course.’ She sobered abruptly. ‘Be careful, Scarlett. I have a bad feeling in my knees. You’re overdue for trouble.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Scarlett said dutifully. ‘I’ll be very careful.’
‘You never did tell me your name, young man,’ Mrs Pepper said briskly.
‘O’Bannion, ma’am. Marcus O’Bannion.’
‘It’s nice to formally meet you. You come back if you need anything, y’hear?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said. He gave the old woman a courteous nod, then turned to follow Scarlett into her garage. Once inside, he stood for a moment, looking around, then turned in a circle to see it all. ‘Wow.’
Half of the garage was empty, a telltale oil spot on the floor marking it as where she parked her little Audi. But the other half was filled with wood in various stages of production, and with tools – power saws and routers and lathes . . . He sucked in a breath. And with glass.
Stained glass in all colors and shapes sat propped up on shelves. About ten shards in the colors of the rainbow hung from the ceiling, twisting and spinning in the breeze created by the ceiling fan.
‘You should have a window,’ he said quietly. ‘They’d sparkle.’
‘They do, when I open both garage doors and let the sunshine in.’ She pulled the second door up and stood back, a small smile playing on her lips.
‘Did you make them?’
‘Yes. These hanging here were the rejects because the glass is all bubbly, but I like them. Sometimes I’ll make them bubbly on purpose now.’