She sat on her heels and handed him a box. Shopping for him had been challenge. Not only was there the issue of her budget, but what exactly was she supposed to get for a man who didn’t seem to need or want anything?
Mark opened the box and pulled out a sweater. It was hand-knit, thick and in multiple shades of green blended with black. It had cost her a chunk of change plus two gingerbread houses.
“It’s perfect,” he said, holding it up to himself. “Am I stylish?”
“Always.” She touched the wool. “Do you like it? I had it made because I’m hopeless with knitting and sewing. I know it’s clothes, which isn’t a guy thing, but I thought…”
Now it was his turn to hug her. “I’m not kidding, Darcy. I really do like it. I’ll wear it tomorrow when we go see your brother.”
“I’d like that.”
Darcy’s expression was so hopeful, Mark found himself willing to walk through fire rather than disappoint her. At least she hadn’t thought his present was stupid. He’d been worried that she wouldn’t understand that he was trying to help. But even as they sat together, she kept glancing at the pans as if he’d given her an unexpected treasure. Based on what she’d told him about her life, he would bet that it had been a long time since someone had bothered to pay attention to her needs.
He found himself wanting to step into the role. Being around her made him feel as if he belonged—possibly for the first time in years. Funny how he’d been so sure he was in love with Sylvia, yet he’d never relaxed around her. With Darcy he could be himself.
“I have something else for you,” she said, handing him a flat box that felt exactly like a book.
He opened the package. It was a book. One on dealing with and preventing sports injuries. He chuckled. “Gee, thanks. Is this a statement on my physical prowess?”
“Uh-huh.” She laughed.
He handed her a small box. She opened in. Inside were a dozen lottery tickets, all from different states.
“A buffet of possibilities,” he teased. “One of those might be worth millions. Or at least thousands.”
She fingered the tickets. “At this point in time I would be excited by fifty dollars. Want to open them now?”
“If you’d like. Or we could have pie.”
She tucked the lottery tickets back in the box and put them under the tree. “Far be it from me to stand between a man and his pumpkin pie. This way, sir.”
He followed her into the kitchen. This had been the best Christmas he’d had in recent memory. There was a message in that information. Perhaps it was time for him to pay attention to it.
* * *
Two days after Christmas, Melissa North held open the front door to her house. “Thanks for coming out on such short notice,” she said as Mark stepped into the foyer.
“Not a problem.”
He followed her into her western-style living room and settled on the sofa. Melissa sat opposite in a club chair. She wore her dark hair pulled away from her face. Her fingers were restless on her lap and there was an edge of worry in her expression.
“I was speaking with the sheriff yesterday. He says you haven’t found any evidence of money laundering at my café.”
Melissa owned the Hip Hop. Mark flipped through his notes. “We’ve come up with exactly zero. I’m meeting with Rafe later today. We’re going to pool information and figure what, if anything, we know. As far as I can tell, all your employees are clean.”
She sighed. “That’s good to know. I’d been worried because I consider myself a good judge of character. It would be disconcerting to suddenly be proved wrong.”
She stopped talking and stared at him. Mark didn’t say anything. There was something about her body language that told him she’d had another reason for asking him to stop by. Experience had taught him that silence was a persuasive tool for getting people to speak.
“I don’t even know if I should mention this,” she said after a couple of minutes. “It sounds so stupid.”
“I live for stupid,” he said easily. “I promise not to laugh.”
She shook her head. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but it’s weird and kind of creepy.”
Mark didn’t like the sound of that. “What is weird and creepy?”
“I’ve been getting hang-up calls. At first I thought it was someone with a wrong number, but it doesn’t feel like that. I know that doesn’t make sense.”
