Lucky Break (Lucky 3)

He didn’t think she’d be deliberately dense, yet he also knew she was too smart not to have covered all possibilities.

He struggled to control his growing frustration. “The new wing is right next to the psychiatric hospital where your sister is.” Instead of connecting the dots, he highlighted the important points, hoping she’d draw the correct conclusion.

“So? My sister isn’t responsive. Brody couldn’t have run into her. And even if he did, what motivation could that possibly give him for tampering with the electrical system in this house?” she asked.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he admitted. But not for lack of trying. The connection was clear. Just not the motive.

“I thought so,” she said, her voice all too satisfied. “So all you’ve got is distrust of my sister because her last name is Perkins. Isn’t that perfect?” She turned her back, staring out the window.

He set his jaw. “Lauren?”

“Yes?” Her hands were clenched tight.

“I’m not having this argument again.” He refused to give her the satisfaction. “I have work to do. You know where to find me if you decide to be rational. Not just about the obvious, but about us.” With that, he rose and walked out of the room, leaving her to stew in silence.

He hoped.

SO MUCH FOR POSITIVE thinking and keeping an open mind. Lauren blew out an exasperated breath. How had she lost control of her life so quickly?

When she’d sold her designs to Galliano, she’d known she’d be taking a break from work until after the Paris shows. The timing had been perfect, since she’d needed to fix and sell this house. She just hadn’t counted on Jason Corwin blowing into her life and digging at old wounds. Some he’d caused when they were young and others her parents and sister had inflicted. When she’d approached him at the festival, she’d been thinking about fun, not feelings. Who knew he could still affect her so deeply?

She admitted to herself that she’d baited him into saying those things about her sister the other day, grasping at any excuse to throw him out before he could abandon her. She’d acted in anger, forgetting that his leaving meant she’d be living with the mice infestation without Jason’s comforting body beside her at night.

Somehow she’d managed to get some sleep and walk around the house, proving to herself she was braver than she’d realized. But her insides still churned at the thought of the little visitors and Trouble didn’t do nearly enough to catch them. Still, she’d proved she could manage, if not conquer, that particular fear.

Then Clara had c

hallenged her to think positively. To put her deepest wishes into the universe and hope they came back to her. So she’d greeted Jason without harboring anger from their visit to her sister. And what had she received in return?

He basically accused her of lying about her motives for working in this room and then he dropped the bomb about Brody Pittman being at the prison. How could that be anything but a coincidence? Day after day, her sister sat in bed or a chair and stared into space. How could she have any interaction with the man? And even if by some bizarre fluke they had met, what could that have to do with this house and the fire in the electrical system?

Lauren pressed her palms against her pounding head. She wasn’t looking for a fight with Jason, nor was she trying to be blind to her sister’s faults. She just looked at the facts, and for the life of her, Lauren couldn’t reach the same conclusions as Jason. He insisted on thinking the worst without proof.

They made love in such perfect unison, but when it came to the important things in life, they couldn’t even agree to disagree.

THOMAS SAT ACROSS from his brother Hank in a booth at the far end of a restaurant two towns over from Stewart-far enough away that there were no familiar faces. Thomas faced the back wall and slunk down in his seat, embarrassed he’d let Hank talk him into spying on Clara and Edward’s date.

“Here they come now.” Hank, who faced out, pulled his Red Sox baseball cap lower on his head and slipped on a pair of sunglasses.

“Like that’s going to help,” Thomas muttered. “It’s nighttime and you look like an ass.”

Hank snorted. “I’ll take another beer,” he said to a waitress passing by.

“Would you like anything?” she asked Thomas.

He shook his head. “Unless you can make him disappear, I’m good.” He lifted his still full glass of club soda.

Hank leaned forward, elbows on the table, staring toward the center of the restaurant. “What do you know! Edward held the chair for Clara,” he said in a hushed yet still loud whisper. “I’m surprised he remembered that’s the right thing to do on a date.”

“Maybe he read Emily Post.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Listen, we can still go out the back door and they’ll never know we were here.”

Thomas didn’t want to get caught. Though Edward wasn’t speaking to him, his brother had taken his advice and started to move forward in his relationship with Clara. Thomas believed his brother would forgive him next. At the very least he still held out hope. But if Edward discovered Thomas and Hank lurking here, he would probably pile another wrong onto the list of grudges he already held against him.

Hank shook his head. “If you’re going to be such a downer you should’ve stayed home.”

“You’ve got a point, but someone had to make sure you behaved.” Thomas had had visions of Hank crawling on his hands and knees, ending up beneath Clara and Edward’s table in order to hear their conversation.

“I don’t buy that excuse. You wanted to see how things worked out between them for yourself.” As Hank spoke, he leaned around the booth once more. “They’re talking like civilized people!”