A Creed in Stone Creek - Linda Lael Miller [32]
“Well—” she said, looking at the overgrown peony bushes.
The grass was so deep that small animals could get lost in it, and the branches of the venerable old maple tree were practically scraping the sidewalk in front of her picket fence. Which could use sanding down and painting.
“I can borrow a mower,” Byron said, and there was a catch in his voice. One that gave Melissa a twinge of sympathy.
Times were tough. There weren’t a lot of jobs in Stone Creek, especially for kids with a police record.
Andrea watched Melissa hopefully, chewing on her lower lip before blurting, “Miss Mamie and Miss Marge hired Byron to reline the koi pond in the backyard over at their place. You know, empty it out and put down new plastic and then fill it and put all the fish back in—”
Evidently, this was Andrea’s idea of a sales pitch, but it fell away in midstream when Byron gave the girl’s hand a squeeze.
“I thought I’d ask,” he said to Melissa. There was resignation in his tone, but his gaze was direct. If she’d stepped aside, he would have walked past her, toward the gate.
But Melissa didn’t step aside.
“It’s a big job,” she said, sizing him up again. “And probably temporary.” Mike Smith, the teenager who took care of Ashley and Jack’s grass and flowerbeds, usually did yardwork for Melissa, too. This year, though, Mike was attending summer school, and he was running short on spare time.
Byron’s eyes widened slightly, and a smile tugged at a corner of his mouth. “I’m not afraid of big jobs,” he said. “As for the temporary part, I can deal with that.”
Melissa wondered if Andrea had nagged him into asking her for work, or if he’d thought of it on his own. Either way, it took guts to come over here and make the request, considering past history.
“When could you start?” Melissa asked. She named an hourly wage that seemed to please him.
He shoved a hand through his sandy-brown hair. Considered his answer. “Well,” he said, “Miss Mamie and Miss Marge need to come first, since all their fish are swimming around in buckets waiting for me to clean out the pond.”
Melissa smiled at the colorful image that popped into her mind. “Tomorrow, then?” she asked.
“Sure,” Byron answered.
Melissa finally moved, so he could descend the steps. He paused, facing her, Andrea still clinging to his left hand.
He put his right out to Melissa. “Thanks,” he said.
She hesitated only a moment before taking the offered hand. “If you screw up,” she told him, frankly but in a friendly tone, “you are so out of here.”
He laughed. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
He started toward the gate, and Andrea double-stepped behind him, looking back at Melissa and mouthing, “Thank you!” as she went.
Hoping she’d done the right thing, Melissa went on into the house and walked straight through to the kitchen. There she popped her empty water bottle into the recycling bin and hesitated in front of her old-fashioned wall phone.
It was Saturday morning—early Saturday morning.
Surely no emergencies had taken place while she was out for her run—she hadn’t been gone more than an hour.
Even prosecutors had weekends off, didn’t they?
Melissa’s mind flashed on Steven Creed, standing in front of the Sunflower Café a little while before, when she stopped by for water, not that she expected him to call or anything.
But hot damn, the way he looked in those rancher’s clothes she’d fantasized about seeing him in the day before. It ought to require some kind of legal permit, being that handsome.
Melissa sighed—not being able to ignore voice mail was the curse of the competent, she reminded herself—and reached out for the receiver. If she didn’t check for messages, she wouldn’t relax and enjoy her time off.
There had been one caller.
Ona Frame’s recorded voice rang over the wire. “Melissa? I hope it isn’t too early to be calling you, dear, but I was just so excited when Tommy stopped by this morning and told me you were willing to fill in for me on the Parade Committee this