Crowned and Moldering

Mac had a long talk with one of the landscapers and set up an appointment to meet at the mansion the following week. Then he bought a hardy outdoor plant for his balcony table and a few herbs for his kitchenette. “They’ll keep the place smelling nice,” he said.

We paid for our purchases and used a flatbed cart to carry them out to the truck.

“It’s always a good time with you, Irish,” Mac said, as I drove back to town.

I shook my head in frustration. “We didn’t get any information from her at all.”

“Yeah, but it was interesting to see her working that shovel blade.”

“I was mesmerized,” I admitted.

“I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that anger.”

“I know.” I stared thoughtfully at the road. “I’m not sure she realized what she was doing.”

“Maybe not. But if this guy Dain goes missing, you’ll know who to call.”

“I don’t blame her for hating him.” I confessed what Dismal Dain had advised me back in my freshman year. After Mac had a good laugh, I told him Dain’s horrible advice to Lily.

“No, that’s impossible,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “He sounds like the very opposite of a counselor.” He stared out the window for a few seconds, then back at me. “You’ve described a caricature. He doesn’t sound human. I know you’re not kidding, but I find it hard to believe someone like that is still employed.”

“You’re not the only one,” I muttered.

“No wonder Denise wanted to kill him,” he mused. “As if being in school and trying to figure out who you are, who you want to be, aren’t hard enough. I can understand why she was pounding that shovel so intensely now.”

I shivered at that image, and we spent the rest of the drive in silence.

Once we got home, Mac helped me carry the heavy bags back to my potting shed behind the garage.

“I promised you di

“That sounds great. Much better than going out.”

“Good. I’ll run up to the store and get everything we need.” He pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around me. “I had a good time at the nursery.”

“I did, too.”

He lifted my chin with his fingers and kissed me.

“There you are!”

We were both startled enough to jump away from each other. I turned to see who had spoken.

The girl standing at my open back gate was very beautiful and very young. And very blond, naturally. She wore a short black leather jacket, faded denim jeans, and boots. And she was gri

Mac looked completely flummoxed. “Callie?”

I exhaled slowly, feeling myself deflate. Another blonde? And could she be any younger? What was with this guy? And what was with me for buying into his act again?

“I guess di

“What? Wait. No. Sha

I didn’t stop; just kept climbing the steps. I had to get inside before I said something I would be sorry for later.

“Uncle Mac?” the blonde said. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

I blinked and turned to take a second look.

Uncle Mac?

Chapter Nine

“Callie is my sister’s daughter,” Mac whispered while his niece locked up her bicycle.

I had sort of figured that out in the nick of time. “Do you know what she’s doing here?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

I was almost afraid to ask, but I went ahead. “Does your sister know she’s here?”

His forehead creased with concern. “Callie, does your mother know you’re here?”

She averted her gaze. “Um, not exactly. I thought we could maybe call her together.”

“So she’ll yell at me, not you?”

She bit her lip. “She probably won’t yell at you, Uncle Mac.”

He gave her a cynical look. “Who are you trying to kid?”

“I guess you’re right.” Callie sighed. “She yells at anyone who’s got to tell her bad news.”

That doesn’t sound good, I thought. Had this happened before? Did the girl run away from home often? And where did she live? Close enough that she could ride her bike to Mac’s garage apartment, apparently. So why hadn’t I heard about Mac’s sister and her daughter before now?

“Okay.” Mac pulled out his cell phone. “No time like the present to get yelled at.”

“Wait,” Callie said, grabbing Mac’s arm. “Here’s the thing. She’s in Brussels.”

“Brussels.” Mac repeated the word and stared at his niece as if he hadn’t understood her. “As in Belgium? As in Europe?”

“Yeah. She’s working on a trial over there.” Callie checked her wristwatch and calculated. “And it’s, um, about midnight there.”

He glared at the teenager. “So if I call her, I’m going to wake her up.”

“Yeah. So are you sure you don’t want to wait until morning?”

“No,” Mac said brusquely. “Because when it’s tomorrow morning in Brussels, it’ll be the middle of the night here.”

She grimaced. “Oh yeah.”

“I’d rather wake her up than have her wake me up.” He winked at me, letting me know he wasn’t quite as frazzled by all this family drama as he seemed.

“Let’s go inside,” I said. “It’s warmer and you’ll be able to hear the phone call better.”

“Good idea,” Mac said.

Callie lifted her backpack, and once she was in my kitchen she set it against the far wall.

I pointed to the table. “Have a seat.”

“You have a dog,” Callie said when Robbie presented himself to her. “What a cutie.”

“His name is Robbie and he’s really friendly.”

“Can I hold him?”

“Sure. He loves the attention.”

“Okay.” She sat down and patted her knees. Robbie hopped up onto her lap and gazed adoringly at her. “Oh, he’s so sweet.”

“He sure is,” I said, smiling. Anyone who liked my pets was okay with me. “Would you like a glass of water?”

“Yes, please.”

I poured three glasses and handed one to Mac, who stood leaning against the counter. He gave me a ragged look that I interpreted to mean, Holy Pete. I wasn’t expecting this.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. All I could think was, The weirdness continues. I wouldn’t be surprised by anything at this point.

I gave Callie her water and sat down at the table. Tiger, not to be outdone by the dog, immediately leaped onto my lap and made herself at home.

“How long has your mom been gone?” I asked Callie as I sipped my water.

She calculated in her head. “It’s been about ten days.”

“And you’ve been home alone all this time?”

“Oh no,” she said, stroking Robbie’s back. “Karl and Mavis are there.”

Mac filled me in. “Karl and Mavis work for my sister.”

“Like housekeepers?”

“More like bodyguards,” Callie said offhandedly. “Mavis cooks, too. Karl’s in charge of the grounds and he drives my mom to work.”

I stared wide-eyed at Mac. Wow, more things I didn’t know. The man was a constant surprise. “Your sister lives on an estate with bodyguards?”

Mac shrugged. “It’s complicated. And it’s not exactly an estate; just a few acres, but big enough to need a small staff. And her job is sort of odd. So, bodyguards.”

“Where do you live?” I asked Callie.

“Bel Air. That’s sort of next to Beverly Hills.”

“Right. I’ve heard of it.” No wonder Callie carried that sense of entitlement with her. Children of wealthy parents sometimes had it ingrained within them. It didn’t make her a bad person, just . . . entitled. I realized I couldn’t even tell her age, and I wondered if she was still in school.

And how did she get from Bel Air to Lighthouse Cove on her bicycle?

“How old are you, Callie?”