Home For Keeps. Lynn Patrick
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CHAPTER NINETEEN
JUST AS NELLIE MARTIN opened the kitchen door to empty her garbage, her glasses slipped down to the tip of her nose. Stopping to punch them in place, she jerked when a ball of fur streaked through her legs. Her fifteen-year-old cat had just gotten out! There she went, all twenty pounds of her tottering straight into the dark.
“Olive!” Trying not to panic, Nellie dropped the garbage bag and followed.
She’d moved from a two-story home to a first-floor apartment in Sparrow Lake’s new green community only a week ago, and her cat had never been outside here. Oh, dear, what if she got lost?
Her pulse pounding, Nellie yelled, “Olive, you naughty girl, you come back here!”
How could such a rotund cat move like that? With her arthritic knees complaining, Nellie couldn’t move fast enough to catch up to the old girl. And where did Olive think she was going anyway? The area outside the apartment building was woodsy. Wisps of fog rose from the ground, making it a little scary at night. Imagining a coyote darting from the dark and snatching her beloved pet for dinner, she forced her legs to go faster. Even so, the cat slinked around a tree and then simply disappeared.
“Olive, sweetheart, please!”
Where had she gone? Nellie’s heart was in her throat as she slowed to scan the area. Nothing! Then through the fog, she saw movement.
“There you are,” she muttered, heading in that direction.
But the shape ahead turned into something other than a cat. A pale, floaty figure shot from one tree to another.
Oh, dear, it looked like...like a...a...!
Starting, Nellie couldn’t take her eyes from the vision, not until her foot hooked on something hard and heavy. Then she went flying, arms waving, but unable to regain her balance.
“Ohhhhhh!”
Landing on both hands and knees, Nellie saw stars from the pain. She couldn’t see anything else because her glasses had flown off her face and everything was a big blur. She gasped for breath. Tried to move. Sobbed from the pain as she felt around for her glasses.
Sobbed some more for the loss of her cat.
“Oh, Olive, how am I ever going to find you now?”
“Meow...”
Nellie’s eyes widened. “Olive?” She found her glasses and put them on just as her cat strolled up to her and gave her a full-body rub.
Grabbing Olive, Nellie kissed her head and clung to her furry companion with all her strength. Now all she had to do was figure out how to get to her feet without letting go. If she put Olive down, the naughty girl might take off again.
Fog swirled around them both, reminding Nellie of the distraction, the cause for her fall. She knelt there, cradling a now-purring Olive, her gaze scanning the area. She saw nothing amiss...yet...
Could the rumors be true?
Did a ghost really haunt the new development?
RUMOR HAD IT that Walworth Builders was responsible for Nellie Martin’s fall while chasing down her cat the night before, and there was speculation that Nellie was going to sue.
Sue for what? Grace Huber wondered, zooming out of Sparrow Lake proper and heading for Green Meadows. She hadn’t heard the nature of Nellie’s injuries, but the woman was up in years and a little frail. Concerned that Nellie might be more hurt than she’d let on, Grace wanted to make sure she was all right in person. And she wanted to take care of Green Meadows, as well. She’d found a new passion in building with the environment in mind, having talked her father into developing the “green” community, which combined condos, rental apartments and semidetached homes, all constructed with sustainable materials and heated with solar energy.
So it was no wonder that she wanted to deal with the problem herself.
Green Meadows didn’t need bad publicity, and she didn’t want her perfect community ruined by a lawsuit. She needed to work this out so Nellie was properly taken care of without the development being in jeopardy.
Turning off the main road, she entered Green Meadows and headed straight for the community center, where Nellie had agreed to meet with her. She was almost there when she realized a crowd had gathered outside in the parking lot. Because Nellie had been badly hurt? Worried, she pulled into the lot, left her car and made her way through the throng, only to stop when she saw the reason for the commotion. Taking a good look at the previously blank side wall of the building, Grace started. The community center had been constructed using repurposed wood plus stone from the local quarry, and the stuccoed side wall now boasted a large mural. In it, a woman walked away from prison bars separating her from the girl who was reaching for her.
“You ruined our community center!” a man cried.
“You two ought to be arrested!” a woman added.
It took Grace a moment to realize residents had surrounded two teenage girls. One looked like a wild punk rocker with dyed black hair, black eye makeup and lipstick. The other appeared more subdued, naturally dark hair pulled back from a makeup-free face that hinted of a Native American heritage. She held a paintbrush in hand.
“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” the punk rocker said. “They don’t appreciate your talent, Summer Storm.”
The girl did seem stormy when Grace stepped closer for a better look.
“Talent?” a woman said. “She defaced our property! Someone call Police Chief Novak!”
“What’s so wrong?” the young artist protested. “The development will look better with a mural! And they don’t even have to pay me for it.”
The sound of a truck squealing to a stop made Grace turn away for a second. She watched as a man with a rugged profile and blue-black hair worn to his shoulders jumped out. He was probably six feet and appeared powerful, if not broad. His tan shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealed arms roped with the muscle of someone acquainted with hard work.
“Grab the girl,” a woman called out. “We can bring her to the police ourselves.”
That pulled Grace’s attention back to the situation. “Wait a minute, no one is grabbing anyone!”
Now that she was closer to the artwork, she was stunned by the ferocity of emotion in the mural and knew it had nothing to do with beautification. The teenager herself wore a defiant expression, but Grace couldn’t miss the haunted look in her eyes. What had happened to make her so angry?
Before she could do anything to find out, the man from the truck stepped in. When he took the girl’s arm, she protested, “Dad!”
She struggled, but he didn’t free her. His dark-eyed gaze aimed straight at Grace when he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back later to make sure this mess is taken care of.”
“Mess?” Summer Storm jerked her arm to no avail. “Taken care of? What do you mean, Dad? You’re going to ruin my mural, aren’t you?”
As he hauled his daughter off to his waiting truck, the man said, “I’m not