Just don’t ask her to sew anything. You might not like the results.”
Matt shrugged, not about to let a possible gem slip through his fingers over a few stitches. “That’s what the tailor shop is for. Lead me to this wonder,” he all but begged. This was for the girls, and Elizabeth Neal sounded like the missing piece of a puzzle—a perfect fit.
Chapter Five
By lunchtime the next day, Matt was so psyched he couldn’t wait to tell the girls. He glanced at his watch when he heard Justine’s voice as she made her way down the hall.
“So, how did it go?” she asked as she entered the room.
“Thanks for letting me borrow your office. It’s a lot friendlier than asking her to stop by the station house for a talk after she finished choir practice.”
Justine let out a bark of laughter, then quickly covered her mouth, her soft brown eyes widening in surprise. “Oh. I’m sorry. That just sounded so funny.”
Matt smiled. “Another one of my questionable jokes. You’re the only one who gets them.” He wondered what her reaction would be if he told her he thought she was sweet and kind and almost irresistibly adorable when she deviated from her ministerial persona.
“How did it go with Elizabeth?” she asked again.
“She’s thrilled with the offer and will be glad to do a little light work around the house and take care of the girls, as long as she can fit it in around her normal activities. We’re going to give it a shot and see how it works out. She’s willing to give me between twelve and twenty hours a week. She also knows someone who’d be willing to do the heavy cleaning, like floors and bathrooms. If she charges what Elizabeth says, I can easily budget for both.”
“That’s wonderful. I hope it helps Leslie,” Justine said, and shot him a wide smile that he felt to his toes.
“Even if it doesn’t settle her down at all, it’ll sure help me. Sometimes I just get so tired of having to be on 24/7.” He glanced at his watch. “Say. It’s just about time for lunch. How about I thank you for your help with a quick meal at Harry’s Kitchen?”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking unsure and glancing at her desk.
“You have to eat, anyway, and Harry’s Kitchen is always a nice change of pace. Of course, there’s no telling what he’ll have on the menu.”
She chuckled. “Menu? You mean what he bought this morning at the grocery store to serve today. Eating there is always an experience. Okay. Let’s go.” She plucked her purse off the coat tree in the corner and tossed it over her shoulder.
Matt followed her out the door. “I notice you didn’t say what kind of experience.”
Justine’s laughter floated after her.
Harry’s was crowded when Justine and Matt got there, but Harry waved them to the last booth. It was the “Reserved” booth Harry kept for the use of select customers. Since she wasn’t one of that august group, Justine assumed Matt was.
“You want coffee?” Matt asked when she sat. At her nod, Matt went behind the counter, scooted by Harry who was at the register and filled two mismatched mugs. Customers were usually expected to pour their own coffee and juice, get their own silverware and clear their own tables—all because that’s the way Harry ran the place. There were clever signs tacked all over, telling everyone that’s the only way they were going to get fed quickly. There weren’t menus, either. You asked for it, and if Harry had it, he made it.
The place was a Safe Harbor landmark, as was Harry Connell, a retired merchant marine who didn’t stand on ceremony. The little diner’s walls were paneled halfway up with gray weathered barn wood and painted a cheerful yellow the rest of the way to the ceiling. At some point he must have acquired endless bolts of green vinyl to upholster the booths and counter stools, because if one was damaged, the next day it was repaired with more of the same material. The tables and the counter behind which Harry held court as he cooked were fifties-era gray marble-patterned Formica. Everything behind the counter was stainless steel and gleaming.
“You certainly get royal treatment. Harry’s reserved booth, no less,” she teased, as Matt put down her coffee and dumped a handful of creamers on the table.
He chuckled. “One of the perks of the job. They didn’t bother to list it, but it might have made my decision easier.”
“In that case, I’ll have to eat with you more often.” Justine could have bitten her tongue right off. Her face heated and she began studying the contents of her purse.
“Now, there’s a possibility to make a man look forward to Harry’s every day. It’s a deal.” Matt checked his watch. “I’ll see you here at twelve-thirty tomorrow, then.”
“I was only kidding,” she said, more flustered than ever.
He looked crestfallen. “Oh. And here I thought I’d discovered the cure to afternoon indigestion.”
“First off, Harry only serves sandwiches at lunch, and, appearances to the contrary, he’s a wonderful cook.”
Matt gave a dramatic sigh and leaned back. “Found out. Truth is, it’s a little lonely eating by myself every day. I could eat in my office, but I come in here to stay visible and accessible. People will often stop to lodge a minor complaint that I doubt they’d ever call or stop at the station to talk over. I’ve always thought irritations were more easily solved than altercations.”
“That’s a very wise policy.”
“But it’s still lonely. Lately my conversations either revolve around schoolwork with the girls or who bought the Harbor Quay apartment buildings. Everyone has an opinion on what’s going on with all the renovations at the complex, and they all want me to investigate. One person swears it’s the mafia come to destroy our town.” He grinned appealingly and took a sip of his coffee. “So, are you going to take pity on me?”
What could she say? More importantly, what did she want to say? Matt wanted a friend, he’d said. He’d made no romantic gestures, so she doubted he shared her attraction for him. That made friendship with him safe because she had no intention of ever becoming romantically involved with a man, no matter how trustworthy he seemed. Her father had been a war hero and had still destroyed her mother’s life with his desertion. So what harm could a few lunches and a little companionship cause?
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