Read Online Teacup Novellas 02 - Strike the Match by Diane Moody - Free Book Online
Authors: Diane Moody
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. . . I don’t know.”
Their eyes met. Shep blinked and looked away.
“Never know.”
“Never know what?”
“When you might need some.”
“Ah,” Grant followed. “True.”
“And tea.”
“Well, now. One can never have enough tea in the house.”
Shep nodded.
“Oh, that reminds me . . .” Grant stopped himself before saying anything more. He jotted himself a note on a orange Post-it: Teacup.
“What’s that?” his father asked.
“Nothing. Just something I’ve been intending to look up online. Some research.”
“On tea?”
He smiled. “Something like that.”
His dad moseyed down the hall, his boots scraping on the hardwood floors. “Something else you need, Pop?”
“No.”
“Okay if I get back to work?”
Shep passed back by his door going the other direction. “Yep.”
“I’ll stop by tonight. My turn to win at chess.”
“We’ll see.”
Grant heard the door close with a click. He loved living near his father again after all these years. Shep Dawson never failed to bring a smile to his lips.
“Cornstarch?” He threw his head back laughing. Yesterday it was pistachio nuts. The day before, vanilla wafers.
He wasn’t sure, but something was going on behind his father’s mysterious gray eyes. He’d bet his life on it.
Then another thought drifted through his mind. It came unbeckoned. Unwelcome. Was it possible his father was drifting into the netherlands of dementia? He shook off the thought, refusing to give it a landing strip in his mind or on his heart.
Keri put her Jeep in park at the rear of the burnt cabin. She needed some fresh air, time to think. She looked through the windshield at the skeletal structure, still in disbelief.
By now, she should have been helping her father finalize the paper work preparing for the transfer of ownership to the Blankenships. They should be tying up loose ends, putting the final touches on the cabin. She should be ordering a huge “welcome home” poinsettia to greet the new homeowners to their oceanside cabin.
Instead, she was staring at what was left of it. Next to nothing.
She noticed a pickup parked to the side of the lot, almost out of sight. Curious, she got out of her car and stepped under the yellow crime scene tape. Keri spotted a young man standing in what should have been the family room.
“Hello?”
He turned suddenly. “Oh—hi. You’re . . . Keri, right?”
“And you’re Matt Blankenship. It’s been a long time.”
He started toward her, stepping carefully through the ash. “Oh. Yeah, right.” He waved his arm toward the skeleton of the house behind him. “I just got in town. Came to see what’s left of our house.”
She reached out, briefly placing her hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry, Matt. I’ve been so consumed with worry for my father, for his business . . . I never stopped and thought about you and your parents. Have they returned from Europe yet? They must be heartbroken.”
He looked back at the ruins. “Yeah, they’re pretty upset. Last I heard, they were trying to get home as fast as they could, but the flights . . . I don’t know. Could be a few more days yet.”
She hurt for him. She remembered something about him losing his twin brother a long time ago, but since the family only vacationed here, she didn’t know anything more than that. And now this.
She tried to make small talk. “So what have you been doing all these years? I’ve been off at school, but it’s been, what? —five? Six years? Where have you been keeping yourself?”
“School. Work. Y’know, around.”
“Where did you go to school?”
He turned back to face her. “You sure ask a lot of questions. What are you, a reporter or something?” He smiled, but she noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She laughed. “Well, yeah, actually I am. Just started working for the Waterford Weekly . I took a year off from school. Anyway, I’m just looking around. Trying to put together a
Their eyes met. Shep blinked and looked away.
“Never know.”
“Never know what?”
“When you might need some.”
“Ah,” Grant followed. “True.”
“And tea.”
“Well, now. One can never have enough tea in the house.”
Shep nodded.
“Oh, that reminds me . . .” Grant stopped himself before saying anything more. He jotted himself a note on a orange Post-it: Teacup.
“What’s that?” his father asked.
“Nothing. Just something I’ve been intending to look up online. Some research.”
“On tea?”
He smiled. “Something like that.”
His dad moseyed down the hall, his boots scraping on the hardwood floors. “Something else you need, Pop?”
“No.”
“Okay if I get back to work?”
Shep passed back by his door going the other direction. “Yep.”
“I’ll stop by tonight. My turn to win at chess.”
“We’ll see.”
Grant heard the door close with a click. He loved living near his father again after all these years. Shep Dawson never failed to bring a smile to his lips.
“Cornstarch?” He threw his head back laughing. Yesterday it was pistachio nuts. The day before, vanilla wafers.
He wasn’t sure, but something was going on behind his father’s mysterious gray eyes. He’d bet his life on it.
Then another thought drifted through his mind. It came unbeckoned. Unwelcome. Was it possible his father was drifting into the netherlands of dementia? He shook off the thought, refusing to give it a landing strip in his mind or on his heart.
Keri put her Jeep in park at the rear of the burnt cabin. She needed some fresh air, time to think. She looked through the windshield at the skeletal structure, still in disbelief.
By now, she should have been helping her father finalize the paper work preparing for the transfer of ownership to the Blankenships. They should be tying up loose ends, putting the final touches on the cabin. She should be ordering a huge “welcome home” poinsettia to greet the new homeowners to their oceanside cabin.
Instead, she was staring at what was left of it. Next to nothing.
She noticed a pickup parked to the side of the lot, almost out of sight. Curious, she got out of her car and stepped under the yellow crime scene tape. Keri spotted a young man standing in what should have been the family room.
“Hello?”
He turned suddenly. “Oh—hi. You’re . . . Keri, right?”
“And you’re Matt Blankenship. It’s been a long time.”
He started toward her, stepping carefully through the ash. “Oh. Yeah, right.” He waved his arm toward the skeleton of the house behind him. “I just got in town. Came to see what’s left of our house.”
She reached out, briefly placing her hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry, Matt. I’ve been so consumed with worry for my father, for his business . . . I never stopped and thought about you and your parents. Have they returned from Europe yet? They must be heartbroken.”
He looked back at the ruins. “Yeah, they’re pretty upset. Last I heard, they were trying to get home as fast as they could, but the flights . . . I don’t know. Could be a few more days yet.”
She hurt for him. She remembered something about him losing his twin brother a long time ago, but since the family only vacationed here, she didn’t know anything more than that. And now this.
She tried to make small talk. “So what have you been doing all these years? I’ve been off at school, but it’s been, what? —five? Six years? Where have you been keeping yourself?”
“School. Work. Y’know, around.”
“Where did you go to school?”
He turned back to face her. “You sure ask a lot of questions. What are you, a reporter or something?” He smiled, but she noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She laughed. “Well, yeah, actually I am. Just started working for the Waterford Weekly . I took a year off from school. Anyway, I’m just looking around. Trying to put together a
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