SEAL the Deal(7)
Mick paused. “I just got back from six months in a war zone. How would I know what’s appropriate?”
“Poor excuse, Slick—I mean, Sir.” Jack shook his head, his smile fading. “Seriously, man. Stay away from my sisters.”
***
Maeve Fischer rustled the pages of the newspaper open. She took a lengthy sip from her wine glass and gazed out at the Chesapeake Bay.
Of all the rooms in her waterfront home, it was the screened-in back porch that stole her heart the most. She had big plans for rest of the house, but the porch would remain the same. Too many perfect memories of her grandparents were on this porch. She could see them right now, sipping their vodkas and holding hands as the sun set. They still had held hands after nearly sixty years of marriage.
They’re holding hands today, Maeve thought, a little comforted by the idea. Her eyes got teary—must have been allergies—and she raised her wine glass just a touch to the horizon.
“Here’s to love that lasts,” she said quietly, and watched two seagulls rise from the water and fly into the distance.
Still holding hands definitely. Indefinitely.
A gentle breeze blew off the water causing sections of the newspaper to scatter to the floor. She sighed and let them lie on the ground. She wasn’t moving a muscle for anything right now. She was just going to relax and enjoy the sun as it drifted lower in the sky.
This was the best Maeve had felt in months. She finally had both of the extra rooms of her house rented. She had a Baltimore client with a stunning property in Canton and a boatload of cash to decorate it.
She had even found a neighborhood kid to mow her lawn weekly for a song.
Life was good.
“A little early to be drinking, Maeve,” noted a voice over her shoulder.
Maeve didn’t even turn around. She just balled up a page of the Style section and tossed it over her shoulder at the voice.
Lacey caught the wad right before it hit her face. “Good aim. Sure you don’t have eyes in the back of your head?”
“I saw your reflection in the wine glass. Grab a glass and pull up a chair. I picked up a new Cab I’ve been aching to try. Cabernet-of-the-year according to Wine Connoisseur.”
Lacey went back into the kitchen and re-emerged, glass in hand. Kicking off the stilettos, she let out a sigh.
“From that sigh, I’m guessing they were pretty boring funerals.”
Lacey smiled slyly. “Then I guess your instincts aren’t as good as you think.” She pulled a section of newspaper toward her. “Are these the obituaries?”
“I circled a couple that you might find interesting,” Maeve answered and gave a careless wave to Lacey’s murmur of thanks. “So what happened?”
Lacey set the newspaper down and gazed dreamily out to the Bay. “Well, the first interesting thing that happened was falling and hitting my head.” She raised her eyebrows for emphasis. “Bad.”
“You okay?”
“Definitely. Think it only hurt my pride. I blame these stupid shoes you made me wear.”
“You just need more practice in them,” Maeve said, reverently touching one of the shoes as she bent over to retrieve her scattered newspaper. “Sexy little things. And with that dark suit, it’s just the perfect mix of sex kitten and real estate guru. I need them back for Saturday, you know.”
“Of course.”
“And the second thing that happened?” Maeve prodded.
“I met the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“At a funeral? You’re kidding.”
“Nope, not kidding.”
“Were you drinking?” Maeve narrowed her eyes at her friend.
“God, no! What’s the matter with you?”
“At a funeral.” Maeve repeated, a statement this time, not a question. “Wait a second. It’s not some old guy or something, right?”
“Oh, please. Of course not. He’s probably my age. So way too old for you,” she noted. It was a well-known fact Maeve preferred the younger set. “Total muffin, as you would say.”
“A muffin,” Maeve said appreciatively, the same way an art connoisseur might say “A Monet.”
Lacey gave herself a small shake as if to break a spell. “So anyway, that’s it. Bumped my head. Met a man. End of story.”
“What do you mean, ‘end of story’? Didn’t you get his number?”
“Of course not. I was there on business.”
“Oh. Family member of the dead guy?”
“No. But definitely too close for me to mess with, not that I’m looking for that right now anyway. The widow’s property would be worth a ton, and she’s already got my business card in hand.”