Becker will vouch for you.” He looked beyond her. “And there she is now.”
“Aunt Margaret?”
Kristen twisted around in her seat and saw her aunt at the front desk, talking to the woman named Janet. Still dressed in what Kristen thought of as satin lounging pajamas, Aunt Margaret had merely put on a pair of sandals and thrown a light wrap around her shoulders for modesty before leaving the house. Neither Janet nor the officers who greeted her before going out the door seemed to think her manner of dress unusual.
Suddenly, Aunt Margaret marched toward the police chief’s office, her face set in a frown. To Kristen’s great relief, she saw the purse she’d left in the store in her aunt’s hands. Also to her relief, her aunt looked fine, not sick, after all.
“Alex, what is going on?” Margaret shifted her attention to Kristen. “Hello, honey.” She handed over Kristen’s purse. “What a terrible thing to have happen on your first day working for me.”
“So, this is your niece?”
“Of course she is, Alex. Who else would she be? Can’t you see the resemblance?”
Kristen smothered a smile. If there ever had been a resemblance between them, her aunt’s spiked red hair and penchant for bright colors like the orange-and-teal print of the pajamas she was wearing kind of smothered it.
To her irritation, although he was wearing a straight face, Alex said, “Yes, of course, Margaret. Your niece looks just like you.”
Aunt Margaret beamed. “Well, we’re going to be off now. Time to get some sleep. Come on, Kristen, I’ll drive you back to your car.”
“Hey, wait a minute—”
Aunt Margaret stopped dead in her tracks, narrowed her gaze on the police chief and added a slight chill to her tone. “Wait for what, Alex? You don’t have a problem with my niece, do you?”
“Uh, no, of course not.”
“Good. Then we’ll see you later.”
If Kristen wasn’t so tired, she would have laughed at the frustration on Alex Novak’s face. Whatever he’d been maneuvering for, he was disappointed.
That thought made her feel just a little better after he’d added more stress to her already disastrous evening.
* * *
“YOU’LL FEEL BETTER after you have something to eat,” Aunt Margaret promised as they entered the house through the kitchen entrance.
Kristen wasn’t so sure of that. Trying to deal with the police chief on top of her awful first day at the store had stressed her out enough for a month. “Maybe I should just go to bed.”
Her aunt was already in the refrigerator. “Never go to bed hungry. Have a little something.” She pulled out a covered container. “Macaroni and cheese?”
“All right.” Kristen couldn’t resist an old favorite comfort food after all she’d been through that night. “But just a little.”
She fetched a small bowl from a cabinet. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had mac and cheese, maybe not since she’d been in school. It wasn’t the kind of dish she would have sought out in multi-ethnic Chicago, but in Wisconsin, it seemed perfect, Wisconsin being the cheese state and all.
“Just sit,” her aunt said, taking the bowl out of her hands and pulling a spoon from a drawer. “It’ll only take two minutes to heat up in the microwave.”
Kristen gladly sat on a stool at the marble-topped island and watched her aunt move around the huge designer kitchen she so rarely used.
From the outside, the classic French Normandy stone manor was entrenched in the landscape, as if it had overlooked the lake forever. The inside had been renovated by the previous owner—the kitchen and baths were only fifteen years old—but the style was still quite traditional. Too traditional for the artist in Aunt Margaret.
Kristen loved the house, but she didn’t feel at home here, not even in the huge guest suite. In addition to her bedroom and walk-in closet, she had a nice-sized sitting room and a spa-worthy bathroom. The guest suite was nearly as big as her own apartment had been, she thought morosely, remembering how the bank had foreclosed on her condo after she’d used up most of her savings.
“Here you go, honey.” Aunt Margaret set the bowl and a fork before her. “Eat up. Then you can get some sleep.”
“Thanks.”
Kristen’s mouth watered at the smell. Of course her aunt had overloaded the bowl with food, and she couldn’t possibly eat it all this late. She slid a forkful into her mouth and just let it melt there before swallowing. It tasted so good it nearly made her toes curl.
Her aunt slid onto a stool across from her. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. I have an early meeting at the university tomorrow.”
Kristin took another forkful. “A faculty meeting?” And another.
“Actually, it’s with my dean. I’m turning in my resignation.”
Surprised, Kristen asked, “Why? I thought you loved teaching.”
The bowl was half-empty. She ought to stop now.
“I do love teaching, but I’m tired, honey. Teaching full-time and running the store have worn me out. I haven’t had the energy or time to do the things I want.”
“But Heather is managing the store now.” Her aunt was still teaching quilting classes and stepping in to work the store if someone called in sick, but that was nothing compared to managing the place.
“Your sister is a hard worker. I’m very grateful that she stepped up. But teaching full time...” She shook her head. “Even though I will resign, I can still be an adjunct in the department and teach a sketching or painting class a semester. It’s the students I love. What I don’t love is committee work. Thank goodness that as an adjunct I won’t have to go to all those boring meetings anymore.”
Kristen couldn’t imagine being without something to do every moment. Then again, her aunt had decades of that behind her. Nearing seventy, she deserved to slow down if she wanted. She simply didn’t act like a senior citizen. Didn’t look it, either. She kept her hair the same bright red it had always been, and she must be using some incredible skin products, because the only wrinkles she had were the welcoming smile lines around her striking hazel eyes.
“What will you do with all that extra time you’ll have?” Kristen asked, deciding that maybe she could have one more bite of the luscious mac and cheese.
“For one, I would like to make some plans to travel. And I want do something with this house to make it more livable.”
“Aunt Margaret, this place is great as it is,” Kristen said, though it was starting to look a little shabby in places and needed quite a bit of maintenance.
“You know, I’ve been wanting to transform it with color.”
Ever since her husband, Donald, had died, Aunt Margaret had threatened to paint the walls
