Once Upon a Marriage

But he’d agreed with Barbara on her initial assessment of the situation three months before. The coincidence was too suspicious.

He just no longer suspected Liam Connelly of any subterfuge or wrongdoing. The man had been framed.

“Eva’s...” The front door of the shop opened behind him and he swung to see Marie’s newest employee, a somewhat ditzy college sophomore, come in.

“Back,” Marie finished. “You go ahead to the office,” she said to Elliott. “I’ve got something to finish up here and then I’ll join you.”

Elliott thought the better idea was to wait for her out front. So he stood as inconspicuously as a six-foot-seven-inch, broad-shouldered man could stand, and waited while she helped an old man put some things in an envelope, watched Eva put candles on one of Marie’s amazing double-fudge cakes and then watched the front while the two women escorted the man down the back hall and to the elevator.

Liam and Gabi got off the old car as Dale, Marie called him, got on. Trading places with Eva, Elliott made his way back to Marie’s office.

“What’s up?” Liam, who was standing behind his wife’s chair, arms crossed, faced Elliott as he shut the door. The Connellys, in dark dress pants and shirts, looked as though they’d just stepped out of a boardroom—on a Sunday evening. Marie, in the armed office chair behind her desk, on the other hand, was far too attractive in her stained blue-and-yellow Arapahoe Coffee Shop apron with tendrils of long blond hair falling out of the pony tail she always wore.

“I’m upping your security alert level.” He got right to the point. This was business. And he had no business finding any pleasure while he was there. “It’s just a precaution,” he added, raising a hand when all three mouths facing him opened at once. “But to be on the safe side, we’re back to no one in the coffee shop alone, even during the day, and you call me every time you have to go out.” The latter was directed at Liam.

“I’m available to see Gabrielle to work every morning and home again in the evening if you so desire.” The protocol Liam had insisted upon when he first took Elliott on.

Gabrielle looked at Marie. “Did you get another letter? We should have been here. I’m so sorry...”

Marie shook her head. “No,” she said, glancing toward Elliott with concern written all over her face. And then, with her expression softening, turned back to Gabrielle. “And you have no reason to be sorry. It isn’t every day that Liam’s father invites you two to accompany him, and brunch at the governor’s mansion is an honor. A sign of his growing acceptance and respect.”

Elliott had known Walter was in town for the weekend to take care of some business. He hadn’t been told exactly what the business was.

“I’m assuming your father’s on his way back to Florida?” he asked Liam, just to make certain that there hadn’t been a change of plans.

“Yes. Tamara’s got a softball game tomorrow night. They’re in the play-offs.”

Tamara Bolin, the fourteen-year-old half sister Liam had just found out about during the initial investigation of his father’s company. She lived with her mother, Missy, in a beach cottage Walter Connelly had purchased for them years before. Walter and Missy were married now and Walter, having given Liam a lot more control in the business he’d almost lost, was spending a good bit of his time in Florida. Working from his home office. With trips up to Denver to meet face-to-face with the powerful and moneyed clientele he’d taken on over the years.

Most of whom were still with them.

“So what’s going on?” Gabrielle sat forward, her expression stoic but focused. She reminded Elliott most of himself.

A woman who kept her heart under lock and key.

Except when it came to Marie and Liam.

He envied her them. Or would, if he allowed himself foolish luxuries.

“I’ve noticed a car parked down the street on several occasions lately. The driver is always inside, slumped down wearing a baseball cap. Today, when I approached, he—or she—pretended not to see me motion him to roll down the window and drove off. I ran the plate on the car. It was stolen.”

Marie sat up straight on the edge of her seat. “Someone in a stolen car’s been watching us?”

“I’m not saying that.” He enunciated this carefully. “And no, I’m not saying the car is stolen. The plate was stolen. It came back as belonging to an ’82 Ford Granada belonging to a woman who died six months ago. The Granada has been parked in an alley behind a garage at her grandson’s house while they waited for the estate to settle. No one noticed the plate missing.”

“You’re sure they were watching this place?” Liam asked. Elliott had labeled him the Pollyanna of the group.

“No, I’m not.” He had to be honest. “But with everything else that’s gone on, we’d be remiss not to treat it like it was.”

Marie looked at Gabrielle and the two women exchanged glances with Liam, who slid his hands into his pockets.

“Fine,” Gabrielle said. Marie nodded.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d see my wife to work every morning,” Liam said. “I can have the company car pick me up.”

“Not a good idea,” Elliott said. “A stretch limo parked out back would be salt

in a wound around here.”