Page 10 of Threat of Danger
I can do this.
“Are you goin’ to take your old room?” Zelda steered around the nineteenth-century Dutch blanket chest that sat in her way.
The living room was like an obstacle course—difficult to believe that Rose Taylor had tripped outside and not in here.
“Is my room available?” Jess had a sudden vision of old furniture piled to the ceiling.
“Exactly as you left it.”
Jess wasn’t ready to see that just yet. She looked around again. “Where can I move what I take out of here?”
Zelda pondered the question with a squint. “The garage has room. Rose gifted your father’s truck to Chuck.”
“Did she? Good.”
The garage had potential. Rose’s car was probably in there, but half of the large garage would be enough for furniture storage. If needed, Jess could stack pieces on top of each other.
She was buzzing with nervous energy, too wired to sit and chat with Zelda. Jess had always been an active person, had trouble sitting in the first place. She’d already sat too much on the plane, then at the hospital, then in the car on the way to the farm. She needed to move.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll get started. Maybe we can have another cup of tea afterward and you could catch me up on everybody?”
“You sure you don’t want to rest first?” Zelda fussed. “Eat something? I have beef stew in the fridge. Made it yesterday in the slow cooker. I don’t do much these days, but I can still do that.”
“I want to get some work done. But I’d love some stew later. Thanks.” Jess’s stomach woke up at the thought of Zelda’s famous beef stew. “I missed your cooking.”
Zelda’s expression turned openly doubtful as she looked Jess over. “Don’t look like you eat much.”
“You have no idea how skinny actresses are these days. I have to keep my weight down if I’m to play their stunt double.” Jess raised a warning eyebrow. “So lay off the butter while I’m here.”
“What butter?” Zelda’s face held nothing but pure innocence.
“Says the patron saint of the Vermont dairy industry.”
Zelda grinned, not the least displeased with the title. Then she said, “No matter what, you need to be testin’ the syrup.”
Right. Sugar rush, here we come.But Jess was a Taylor. This was Taylor’s Sugar House. She was home. If she didn’t go and test the syrup a dozen times a day and discuss the sugar content endlessly with every person she ran into, they’d probably run her out of town on a rail.
Goodbye, careful diet.By the time she flew back to LA, the only thing she’d be good for was as a counterweight for the pulley that made a skinnier stuntwoman soar into action. All the more reason to start moving and keep moving. And, as an added bonus, while she was thinking about how to rearrange furniture, she wouldn’t be thinking about the past. “I’d better get started.”
Understanding glinted in Zelda’s warm eyes. “Wish I could help, but I don’t think my back could handle the weight.”
“You put your feet up and think about all the juicy town gossip. That’s what I want to hear first.” Jess eyed the heavy oak secretaire next to her, too wide for the hallway. “Actually, let’s start with, where’s the dolly?”
“In the back of the garage. Right where your father always kept it.”
Jess picked up the rickety caned chair right in front of her. No sense in wasting a trip. She looked back from the front door. “Is the garage open?”
“This ain’t the city, child. Things might have changed since you left, but they ain’t so bad that we’d have to start lockin’ up.”
Jess didn’t point out that the worst thing that had ever happened to her had happened right here, in innocent, safe little Taylorville. She just headed outside with the chair.
I can do this.
She was crossing the driveway to the garage on the other side when a white pickup pulled up. The porch light reflected off the windshield, so she couldn’t see who sat behind the wheel.
As Jess watched, the pickup’s door opened, and the driver jumped to the ground. The man stared at her, his jaw, his entire body, tight, his expression dark and harsh. He was a head taller than she was and wider than she remembered. He had a fighter’s body. The dark glint in his eyes also said that he was ready to charge into battle.
The stupid caned chair fell at Jess’s feet with a clatter. The air left her lungs in a painfulwhoosh. Her stomach rolled. Black dots danced in her vision. She smelled blood, even as she knew it wasn’t real, just a memory. Her stomach rolled harder.
