Page 23 of Lipstick Kiss

“There was nothing to worry about, babe. I was always with someone,” he said, trying to worry away the burning in his chest with the heel of his hand.

“Words don’t stop the worry, honey,” she muttered.

They entered Maggie’s kitchen, Freya first, and Luke followed her in. Maggie was at the stove like she lived and slept there. Bailey was at the far end in front of the half-wood, half-glass wall. The glass was split into small square sections that allowed you to see through, but it was mottled, so it was all distorted. He’d know if there was someone on the other side but not necessarily who.

“Hi Maggie, hi Bailey,” Freya said. “Can we impose for some breakfast? We’ve been on a scouting trip, and we’re famished. I didn’t have time for food before I hoofed it up here to see this one,” she said, thumbing over her shoulder.

“Take a seat Freya. It’s good to see you after so long. I hope we get to see you more often now that Luke is back,” Maggie said.

“Me too. I love coming in here. I love my parents and their home, but something about this kitchen makes me want to stay awhile.”

“That’s lovely to hear, Freya. You’re welcome anytime.Even if Luke isn’t around.”

Freya beamed at Maggie, and Maggie swung her eyes to him. She tilted her head and raised her eyes, sporting a terrific smirk. He had no idea what message she was conveying.

“Should I bring those boxes down from storage?” Maggie asked.

It was a loaded question, one that I didn’t want Freya asking about. She didn’t need to know what was in those boxes.

“Not now. I’ll come over in the week and get them.”

“As you wish. Take a seat, and I’ll make some coffee.” Then her eyes turned to Freya. “What do you want to eat?”

“Weetabix will be fine, or muesli.”

“Nothing warm, like scrambled eggs and sausage?” Maggie suggested.

“Maggie,” Freya said low. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll have some of that,” Luke said, joining Freya on her side of the table on the bench seat.

“I will too, Maggie, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble.”

Bailey cleared his throat and stalked forward, coming to the country kitchen table. The tips of his fingers of one hand touching the wood. He bounced them there for a few moments and then spoke.

“Miss Turner would like you to see her.”

“Can you tell her I politely decline?” Luke asked, knowing what the answer would be.

Bailey would do whatever Luke said, but there was always a word of caution if it wasn’t the best route.

“Yes, Sir, of course.”

His fingers bounced a few more beats.

“If you change your mind. Would you let me know, and then I can arrange a meeting?”

And there it was.

“I will, Bailey.”

“Very good.”

“Bailey,” Luke said. “Do you know who digs the graves for the Turner family?”

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