You sit to my right.”
He held the indicated chair for Violet, then did the same for Bernice before he took his seat.
The savory smells made his mouth water. Bernice had cooked some of his favorites. Green beans, mashed potatoes and homemade rolls along with the roast and gravy.
Clay unfolded his napkin and laid it across his lap, waiting to dig in as soon as Bernice started to pass the various dishes.
Instead, she turned to him and gently touched his hand. “Such a pleasure having both of you at the dinner table this evening. We have so much for which to be thankful. I’d appreciate you offering the blessing, Clay.”
“The blessing?”
“Why yes, Clay. We need to give thanks to God for the food.” Bernice gave an inclusive glance at Violet. “And for the three of us being together.”
At least, he had an idea of where to start. He was thankful to be with Violet. Surely he could put some of his feelings into words.
He bowed his head, dropped his hands to his lap and fiddled with his napkin under the table.
“Father…God, thank You for this food.” He stole a glance at Violet. Her eyes were closed, hands clasped, head bowed. “And for allowing our paths to cross. We’re grateful for Bernice’s cooking and for our hungry appetites.”
Bernice chuckled under her breath.
“Please keep Violet safe,” Clay continued.
Her eyes popped open.
He winked. “Amen.”
“That was lovely.” Bernice’s smile of gratitude was genuine. “The Lord gave you the right words this evening.”
He looked across the table at Violet. Too bad he never seemed to have the right words to use with her. When he was around Violet, he felt as if he was out on a high ledge with nowhere to go but down.
She looked up again and her brown eyes locked on his.
The room shifted. She had a dangerous effect on his equilibrium as if he were standing on the edge of a mountain cliff and had just been struck with the random vertigo that sometimes flooded over him.
Step back or jump.
At this point, neither option made sense.
After dinner, Clay insisted on washing the dishes while Violet helped Bernice tidy the kitchen.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” she whispered to Violet.
Seeing the muscular cop up to his elbows in soap-suds did soften the ambivalent feelings Violet had harbored toward Clay since he’d first appeared uninvited on her doorstep. She was beginning to realize the man had charm.
Once the dishes were dried and put away, Bernice fixed a pot of coffee then excused herself, claiming she needed her beauty sleep. Clay poured coffee, carried two mugs into the living room and sat next to Violet on the end of the couch closest to the fireplace.
“Heavy cream and two sugars. Did I get it right?”
“Perfect.” She took a sip of the hot brew then leaned forward and placed her mug on the coffee table. Sitting back, she found Clay’s arm curving around her shoulders.
He flashed her a hope-you-don’t-mind smile that sent a jolt of electricity to her midsection. The scent of his aftershave brought back memories of a darkened alleyway in Chicago. Her head swam as if she were caught in a swift current, being carried downstream. For half a second, she thought he was going to kiss her.
Instead he said, “Why don’t you tell me what you know. How’d you find out about the two murdered Montana women?”
Once a cop, always a cop.
Surely if she shared information, he would do the same. Plus, he might be able to open a door that had remained closed to her.
Violet told him how she learned about Ruby Summers Maxwell and the picture of Ruby’s twin sister, Jade, standing with Marshal McGraw.
“His office handles Witness Protection,” she explained. “Fairly obvious that Ruby was in the program.”
“What about the other woman?”
“Carlie Donald entered Witness Protection after testifying against a member of organized crime who worked in Philly.”
“So the Martino family didn’t have anything to do with her
He held the indicated chair for Violet, then did the same for Bernice before he took his seat.
The savory smells made his mouth water. Bernice had cooked some of his favorites. Green beans, mashed potatoes and homemade rolls along with the roast and gravy.
Clay unfolded his napkin and laid it across his lap, waiting to dig in as soon as Bernice started to pass the various dishes.
Instead, she turned to him and gently touched his hand. “Such a pleasure having both of you at the dinner table this evening. We have so much for which to be thankful. I’d appreciate you offering the blessing, Clay.”
“The blessing?”
“Why yes, Clay. We need to give thanks to God for the food.” Bernice gave an inclusive glance at Violet. “And for the three of us being together.”
At least, he had an idea of where to start. He was thankful to be with Violet. Surely he could put some of his feelings into words.
He bowed his head, dropped his hands to his lap and fiddled with his napkin under the table.
“Father…God, thank You for this food.” He stole a glance at Violet. Her eyes were closed, hands clasped, head bowed. “And for allowing our paths to cross. We’re grateful for Bernice’s cooking and for our hungry appetites.”
Bernice chuckled under her breath.
“Please keep Violet safe,” Clay continued.
Her eyes popped open.
He winked. “Amen.”
“That was lovely.” Bernice’s smile of gratitude was genuine. “The Lord gave you the right words this evening.”
He looked across the table at Violet. Too bad he never seemed to have the right words to use with her. When he was around Violet, he felt as if he was out on a high ledge with nowhere to go but down.
She looked up again and her brown eyes locked on his.
The room shifted. She had a dangerous effect on his equilibrium as if he were standing on the edge of a mountain cliff and had just been struck with the random vertigo that sometimes flooded over him.
Step back or jump.
At this point, neither option made sense.
After dinner, Clay insisted on washing the dishes while Violet helped Bernice tidy the kitchen.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” she whispered to Violet.
Seeing the muscular cop up to his elbows in soap-suds did soften the ambivalent feelings Violet had harbored toward Clay since he’d first appeared uninvited on her doorstep. She was beginning to realize the man had charm.
Once the dishes were dried and put away, Bernice fixed a pot of coffee then excused herself, claiming she needed her beauty sleep. Clay poured coffee, carried two mugs into the living room and sat next to Violet on the end of the couch closest to the fireplace.
“Heavy cream and two sugars. Did I get it right?”
“Perfect.” She took a sip of the hot brew then leaned forward and placed her mug on the coffee table. Sitting back, she found Clay’s arm curving around her shoulders.
He flashed her a hope-you-don’t-mind smile that sent a jolt of electricity to her midsection. The scent of his aftershave brought back memories of a darkened alleyway in Chicago. Her head swam as if she were caught in a swift current, being carried downstream. For half a second, she thought he was going to kiss her.
Instead he said, “Why don’t you tell me what you know. How’d you find out about the two murdered Montana women?”
Once a cop, always a cop.
Surely if she shared information, he would do the same. Plus, he might be able to open a door that had remained closed to her.
Violet told him how she learned about Ruby Summers Maxwell and the picture of Ruby’s twin sister, Jade, standing with Marshal McGraw.
“His office handles Witness Protection,” she explained. “Fairly obvious that Ruby was in the program.”
“What about the other woman?”
“Carlie Donald entered Witness Protection after testifying against a member of organized crime who worked in Philly.”
“So the Martino family didn’t have anything to do with her
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