Remember When (In Death #17.5)(53)

"Nice sale, boss. I love when they keep finding something else, adding it on."

"She was the one with the eye, he was the one with the wallet." It felt a little like floating, but Laine got back to the counter, lifted the dog. "Jenny, did you shelve this piece?"

"That? No." Lips pursed, Jenny walked over to study it. "Sort of cute, in a ridiculous way. A little flea market for us, isn't it? It's not Doulton or Minton or any of those types, is it?"

"No, it's not. I imagine it came in one of the auction shipments by mistake. I'll sort it out. Look, it's nearly five. Why don't you take off early? You covered for me for more than an hour this morning."

"Don't mind if I do. I've got a craving for a Quarter Pounder. I'll swing by the station and see if Vince is up to dining at Chez McDonald's. I'm as close as the phone, you know, if anything else pops to the surface and you want to vent."

"I know."

Laine shuffled papers until Jenny gathered her things and headed out the door. She waited another five full minutes, doing busywork in case her friend doubled back for any reason.

Then she walked to the front, put up the CLOSED sign, locked the door.

Retrieving the statue, she took it into the back room, checked those locks. Satisfied no one could walk in on her unexpectedly, she set the statue on her desk, studied it.

She could see the glue line now that she was looking for it, just a hint of it around the little cork shoved into the base. It was good work, but then Big Jack was never sloppy. Beside the cork was a faded stamp. MADE IN TAIWAN.

Yes, he'd have thought of little details like that. She shook it. Nothing rattled.

Clicking her tongue, she got out a sheet of newspaper, spread it on the desk. She centered the dog on it, then walked to the cabinet where she kept her tools. She selected a small ball-peen hammer, cocked her head, swung back her arm.

Then stopped.

And because she stopped, she realized, without a single doubt, she was in love with Max.

On a breath, she sat, staring at the dog as she set the hammer aside.

She couldn't do it on her own because she was in love with Max. That meant they would do it together. And so whatever came next together.

And that, she thought, is what her mother had found with Robert Tavish. What she'd never really had with Jack, for all the excitement and adventure. Her mother had been part of the team, and possibly the love of Jack's life. But at the core, they hadn't been a couple.

Her mother and Rob were a couple. And that's what she wanted for herself. If she was going to be in love with someone, she damn well wanted to be half of a couple.

"Okay then."

She rose, got bubble wrap from her shipping supplies. She wrapped the cheap ceramic dog as carefully, as meticulously as she would've wrapped antique crystal. Over layers of bubble wrap, she secured brown shipping paper, then nestled the package into a tissue-lined shopping bag, along with a second item she'd taken from her stock and wrapped.

When the job was complete, she arranged for the shipping for her final sale of the day, then filed paperwork. At precisely six o'clock, she was at the front door waiting for Max.

He was fifteen minutes late, but that only gave her time to calm completely.

He'd barely pulled to the curb when she was walking out, locking the door.

"You're always on time, right?" he asked her when she got into the car. "Probably more like always five minutes early."

"That's right."

"I hardly ever am, exactly on time, that is. Is this going to be a deal with us down the road?"

"Oh yes. You get this initial honeymoon period where I just flutter my lashes when you show up and don't say a word about your being late. After that, we'll fight about it."

"Just wanted to check on that. What's in the bag?"

"A couple of things. Did you have any luck with the key?"

"That depends on your point of view. I didn't find the lock it fits, but I eliminated several it didn't."

He drove up her lane, parked behind her car. "How come Henry doesn't zip out his dog door when he hears a car drive up?"

"How does he know who it is? It could be someone he doesn't want to talk to."

She got out, waited for him to pop the trunk. And beamed at the bucket of fried chicken.

"You bought me chicken."

"Not only, but the makings for hot fudge sundaes." He lifted the two bags. "I thought about shrimp cocktail and pizza, but figured we'd both be sick. So just the Colonel and ice cream for you tonight."

She set the shopping bag down, threw her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth to his.

"I can hit up the Colonel every night," he said when he could manage it.

"It's those secret herbs and spices. They get me every time. I decided I love you."

She watched the emotion swirl into his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Let's go tell Henry."

Henry seemed more interested in the chicken, but settled for a quick wrestle and a giant Milk-Bone biscuit while Laine set the table.

"You can eat that sort of thing on paper towels," Max told her.

"Not in this house."

She fancied it up in a way he found sweet and female. Her colorful plates turned the fast-food chicken and tubs of coleslaw into a tidy celebration.