“It’s not lace, it’s white on white embroidery. Here!” She grabbed the hanger tops and handed them to him, then picked up the shaving gear. “Let’s go!” She started to go through the house, meaning that they’d see Chet and Sara, but Jack said no.
He led her through the garage to the little courtyard at the side. The fountain of the girl dancing in the rain was encased in golden light.
They went through the door to Kate’s bedroom, past her first closet, past the bath, to the second walk-in, which was empty.
“A whole closet to myself?” Jack said. “This is great!”
“It’s temporary, so don’t get used to it.”
They hung up his clothes, put his toiletries in the bath, then looked at each other. Now what did they do?
“I don’t know about you,” Jack said, “but I am sick of murder and suicide and hearing that college girls get sent to prison. How about if you and I go to the Brigade and have beer and beef?”
Kate hesitated. “I...”
“They have a live band. Want to sing with me?”
She smiled but said nothing. She was still deciding.
“They have chocolate things. From the bakery.”
“I’ll be ready in three minutes.”
Jack didn’t complain when he had to wait thirty minutes for Kate to get ready. She had a closet full of clothes from the designer Elaine Cross and she had put on a dark green, fitted dress.
She was standing in front of the tall shoe rack, trying to make up her mind, when Jack stepped behind her. He reached over her head and pulled down her tallest high heels. “These.”
“What is it with you and heels?”
“Give me an hour and I’ll tell you. Come on or that loquacious ex-cop will be in here asking more questions.”
“Loquacious, huh?”
“I’ve been around Sara too long. It’s like living with a dictionary. Are you ready yet?”
“I just need to—” She smiled. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
They went out the back to Jack’s truck. “Think they’ll miss us?” she asked.
“Not at all. Not one little bit.”
Thirteen
KATE HAD HEARD of the Brigade, which was next door to the fire station, but she hadn’t been to it. That was probably caused by a lifetime of her mother’s three older brothers telling her that if she stepped inside a “beer joint” the floor would open up and drag her straight down into hell. She knew it was nonsense but still...one developed doubts.
Jack opened the door for her and the place made her smile. It was like looking at a fire station of about 1904. On the right was a long antique oak bar with a fireman’s boot at the end. A calligraphy sign said it was for donations for domestic abuse victims.
A mirrored wall behind the bar held shelves full of sparkling clean bottles. At the end of the long room was a raised platform with musical instruments, a dance floor in front. To the left were booths and tables.
Jack bent and said in her ear, “Like it? My sister designed it.” There was such pride in his voice that she smiled broadly at him. Seconds later, they were greeted with what seemed to be dozens of people calling hello to Jack.
“Where’ve you been? Haven’t seen you for weeks.” From the bartender.
“Why didn’t you call me?” From a pretty blonde woman.
“Jack! When are we goin’ out again?” Another pretty young woman.
“Are you planning to run a booth at the fair this year?” A fireman.