Worth The Wait



  WORTH THE WAIT

  A Merchant Street Mystery, Prequel

  Cindy A. Christiansen

  Sweet Romantic Suspense Novella

  Dragonfly Spirit Books

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  A Dragonfly Spirit Books

  Sweet Romantic Suspense

  Worth the Wait: A Merchant Street Mystery, Prequel

  Copyright © 2015 Cindy A. Christiansen

  First E-book Publication: January 9, 2014

  COVER ART Composed from: www.123rf.com

  COVER DESIGN: Dragonfly Spirit Books

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2015 by Dragonfly Spirit Books

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission of the author.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Newsletter: The best way to stay in touch is to subscribe to her newsletter. Go to https://www.dragonflyromance.com and subscribe in the box on the right-hand side of the screen that asks for your name and email.

  Trademarks: The author acknowledges the trademark status and the following trademark owners mentioned in this work of fiction: Jeep, Dodge, Apple Jacks, Cap 'n Crunch, Frosted Flakes, Corn Pops, Crispy Critters, Corn Flakes, Double Dip Crunch, Froot Loops, Frosty O’s, Quaker Oats

  Books by Cindy A. Christiansen

  Stand-Alone Novels

  Caskets and Corruption

  Love on Laird Avenue

  Braving the Blaze

  Hazardous Hideaway

  Not Quite Zen

  Legacy of Lies

  Merchant Street Mystery Series

  Worth the Wait, Prequel

  Time Will Tell, Book 1

  Hunting for Happenstance, Book 2

  Fortune for Fools, Book 3

  Novellas and Short Stories

  Stolen Horses, Stolen Hearts

  Risky Seeds, Risky Hearts

  A Clean Romance

  Dedication

  To my son, Clark. You may struggle. You may falter. But I will always love you.

  Chapter One

  Fifteen years ago…

  Adele Abberley’s heart raced. She hung up the phone and placed a shaky hand to her mouth, taking a slow deep breath. Her Bull Terrier shoved her nose under her hand, trying to get a pat.

  “Okay, Fresca. I didn’t forget about you,” she said, smiling. She kissed that big sloped head of hers. “We both might have Roman noses, but I still say we’re beautiful, especially you.” She kissed Fresca again and then sighed.

  She’d done it. She’d finally registered. Late in the year, but she had still done it. She’d finalized registration for her first semester to get her Bachelor of Science in Nursing, something she should have done right out of high school. She’d certainly wanted to. But for the past eleven years, life kept getting in the way. Not really her life but everyone else’s she knew.

  She leaned back on her bed and flung her arm across her forehead. Fresca whined and licked her cheek.

  Dad will have a fit, a complete come apart.

  “Yes, he will,” she cooed at Fresca. “Yes, he will.”

  And why wouldn’t he? She’d been taking care of him, the antique shop, her nephews, and just about everything else that needed handling. What would he do when he found out she planned to move out and get an apartment closer to the University of Utah? Not that they lived far away. In fact, she lived near downtown Salt Lake City. But, she wanted to be on her own and at twenty-nine she deserved the right. She’d taken care of everyone else for long enough.

  She hopped off the bed and grabbed a suitcase from the closet. Fresca looked at her and whined.

  “Might as well do a little advance packing, don’t you think?”

  Fresca rushed to the closet and brought back one of her slippers. She hopped back up on the bed and dropped it in the suitcase, going for the mate.

  Adele’s stomach cringed. Despite having made all the arrangements for college, her gut instinct told her something would stop her again from fulfilling her dreams. It always did. But she just had to start telling people no. This was her life after all.

  She brushed the feeling aside and continued adding items to her suitcase. Fresca added more shoes.

  “Adele? Are you in there?” her father said from the hall.

  She gasped, closed the suitcase, and quickly stuffed it in the closet. “What is it?”

  He pushed open the door, coughing. “Sorry about that. Got a tickle in my throat. Just got a call from Rhonda.”

  She frowned. He’d been coughing for weeks and kept telling her it was just a lingering cough from a cold. I wonder. His olive skin had a yellowish cast to it and he looked thinner, making his dark eyes appear sunken. Although he still had a thick head of graying black hair, it looked finer and less shiny. Fresca ran over, jumped on his thigh, and did a back flip. Dad looked like he might topple over but steadied himself.

  “Down, Fresca,” she said. “Sorry, Dad.”

  “Silly dog. Anyway, it’s not good news,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  Adele flopped onto her bed. “Is it ever?”

  “Rhonda just telephoned the boys, and Zymon isn’t home with them.”

  She slapped her cheek. “They’re alone?” Her gaze tore around the room in search of her purse and keys. “Where’s Rhonda this time? And where’s Zymon? This is getting ridiculous.”

  “I didn’t think to ask what city she’s in this week. Some buyer’s convention in some city—New York, Maine? Don’t ask me. As for your brother, I haven’t the foggiest idea.”

  Probably off on another drunk somewhere. She would never say anything to Dad about Zymon’s drinking, but it seemed to be escalating.

  “What about the antique shop?” She pulled open her nightstand drawer, still looking for her keys.

  “No answer. Could you…” He waved his hand.

  “Sure I’ll go, if I can just find my car keys.”

  She had no intention of telling him her college plans right now. She still had a few weeks to gently break the news to him, the time she needed to gain the courage to tell him.

  Fresca jumped back on the bed and used her nose to push Adele’s planner aside on the nightstand, revealing the keys.

  “Good girl.” She gave Fresca’s neck a rub.

  “That dog is smarter than most humans I know,” Dad said, grinning.

  “Well, she didn’t get it from me.” She picked up her purse, kissed h
im, and headed for her car.

  Fresca bounced in front of her all the way.

  Adele made a mental note to talk to Dad about another doctor’s appointment then turned her attention to other problems. Like what to do about Zeke and Zach. Zeke had just turned thirteen and Zach was eleven. Not exactly babies, but they had been left unsupervised way too often, so much so that their unruly antics had gotten them into trouble with the police on several occasions. Besides that, Zeke had said just enough to her to let her know he had abandonment issues because of his parents’ continued absence from his life.

  Adele knew Rhonda loved them, but she couldn’t keep taking advantage of Adele, expecting her to fill in as babysitter all the time. Kids needed their mother. And as for Zymon, he needed to get his act together. He couldn’t keep disappearing on his boys all the time, or the shop. Customers expected the place to be open during normal business hours. They would stop coming in if Zymon didn’t keep it open.

  And, since the whole family depended on the income from the antique shop, they couldn’t lose the business. Thus, her not having a life of her own. This had to end. She let Fresca into the car, slipped behind the wheel, turned the key, pulled out onto the street, and drove the couple of miles to Zymon’s house.

  Rushing up to the door, she could hear the television blaring and screams and giggles from the boys. Zeke and Zach were running wild. She reached for the doorknob to insert the key, and the door swung open wide. Not even locked. Fresca bounded inside.

  “Zeke? Zach? It’s your Aunt Adele,” she called.

  Wrestling on the ground next to a toppled over armchair, the boys didn’t notice her until Fresca jumped into the act. Then they jumped up and charged Adele, whooping and laughing, Fresca nipping at their pant legs.

  “Whoa, boys,” she said, looking around the disaster of a living room. “Slow down.” She gave them each a big hug and kiss.

  Toys upon toys decorated the floor, the couches, the coffee table. Pogs littered the floor and hallway like an explosion had been set off. Multiple super soakers lay on the couch, and she could see streaks of watermarks adorning the walls and drapes. Zeke’s Furby hung from the living room ceiling fan, spinning around and around and chattering away. Her shoulders sagged.

  “We’re having a party,” Zach said, swatting at his brother.

  “I can see that. Can you tell me where your dad is?”

  The two boys, still in their pajamas with their unruly dark hair, stared at her with big almond eyes and shrugged.

  “Did he leave a note?” she asked.

  They looked at each other and shrugged again.

  “When was the last time you ate?” she asked, trying not to notice the spilled grape juice on the carpet.

  “We had cereal this morning, but the milk tasted funny,” Zeke answered.

  She rushed to the kitchen to find cereal and milk spilled all over the table and floor and the sink full of dirty dishes. She checked the fridge—a few takeout containers, orange juice, and a couple of outdated yogurts. She sighed. How could Zymon be so irresponsible?

  Fresca crunched down a few Cheerios off the floor.

  “Okay, boys. Go get dressed and we’ll pick up something to eat on the way to the shop.”

  The boys whooped it up, and Fresca turned circles.

  Rhonda and Zymon were in for a good talking to when they returned. Things had to change. She had enrolled at college and had every intention of going. That was final.

  * * * *

  Kipp Waterbury pulled up to the Abberley Antiques shop on Merchant Street, parked, and placed a few coins in the parking meter. The shop was his last hope of finding any vintage machinist tools. From the looks of it, he doubted he’d find a single item he wanted. Looked like a furniture store to him.

  He hiked up his jeans and tucked in his shirttail. Might as well check. He stepped inside, his ears assaulted by screaming kids and a barking dog running through the store. What is this all about? A dark-headed boy dashed past him. Another smaller version of the first followed, squirt gun in hand and a tan and white Bull Terrier jumping at the back of his legs.

  “Boys, settle down,” a woman called from the back.

  The most beautiful woman he had ever seen came through the doorway, her dark eyes flashing, her ruby lips glistening. His heart plummeted and then zinged back into his chest.

  “Boys, I said…” She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him. “Can…can I help you?” She blinked several times and bit her bottom lip.

  The boys raced past, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the gorgeous woman in front of him.

  “Umm, can I help you find something?” she asked again. Her crimson, floral-print dress accentuated her slim waist and showed off her shapely legs.

  “Machinist parts, I am looking for,” he said, still staring at her.

  “What?” She closed the distance between them.

  He sounded like an idiot. He had been working on the unusual speech pattern he’d learned from his father. He wanted to fit in here in the U.S. After all, they’d moved here twelve years ago when Kipp had turned twenty, and his family was all citizens. He’d already put in three years at college. Usually he spoke English fluently.

  “I am looking for machinist parts,” he said.

  “Oh, well, I don’t think we have anything like that.” Her dress swirled as she turned around to address her boys. “Zeke? Zach?” She scooped up the terrier as he tried to dart by. “I’m sorry about all the confusion,” she said, turning back.

  He still couldn’t think. Her goddess-like beauty overwhelmed him. Her long dark hair swept back from her regal features, her Roman nose lending to her statuesque magnificence. She was an artist’s dream.

  “About these tools,” she said. “I could call my father. He might know. My brother is MIA at the moment.”

  “MIA?” he questioned.

  “Oh, missing in action. We don’t know where he is.” She dropped the dog gently on her feet and reached out and threw her arms around the oldest boy, trapping him. “These monsters are his kids.”

  His heart did another luge run. “Your children, they are not?” He’d done it again.

  “No,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “Are you from around here?”

  “Budapest originally,” he said with a big smile. They aren’t her children. “I am an American, really.”

  She smiled, a beautiful enticing smile. “I see. I’ll just go call my Dad.”

  “Let me go,” the boy yelled, struggling from her grasp.

  “You boys come in the back,” she said, dragging him all the way.

  The terrier and younger boy followed. Kipp finally took a full breath and looked around the shop. Antique furniture filled the building to the rafters. He wandered around, trying to take it all in. Just because the two rowdy boys weren’t hers didn’t mean she wasn’t married. But how could he find out? Just ask her? Not on his life.

  He hadn’t had much experience with women. He’d been so focused on working to earn money to attend college and then on his classes that he had neglected any social life. But the feelings his heart experienced right at the moment told him his emotions couldn’t be ignored any longer.

  The dog padded up and sniffed his leg.

  He knelt down, roughing up the dog’s long face. “Hello there. Are you tending children today?”

  The dog flipped her head up and down several times. Could she understand English? He smiled. Probably better than most humans, better than him. He noticed a small wooden box sitting on a coffee table, an upside down chair stacked on top of it.

  He stood, picking up the chair and righting it on the floor. What a beautiful chair—adorned in intricate gold leafing with plush blood red material. Too bad it was dirty, ripped and damaged. He retrieved the box and quickly opened it, revealing a complete set of Bay City taps. What luck. They had to be worth around two hundred dollars.

  “I spoke with my father,” the woman said, joining him. “He didn’t
think we… Oh, did you find something?”

  His gaze couldn’t leave her again. He held out the box to her. “Taps.”

  She took the box and searched for a price. “Is this something you were looking for?”

  He nodded, feeling tongue-tied and stupid.

  She touched a finger to her pretty red lips. “Oh, dear.”

  “What is wrong?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have any idea what the price should be. I’ll have to do some digging to find out our cost. Do you have to know today? Sorry, but things are a little chaotic.”

  He heard another customer enter the shop, but he still couldn’t take his eyes from her. The boys raced out from the back, fighting over something.

  “Boys” she yelled. “Put down that gun!”

  He pulled his gaze from her long enough to see they were struggling over a black powder rifle. “I’ll handle them. You tend to your customers.”

  She sighed. “Thank you so much.”

  He watched her as she elegantly floated across the shop to two women customers. He only headed for the boys once her scent had dissipated.

  “Okay, you ruffians. Turn over your weapons. You’re surrounded,” he said.

  “Aw, gee. Can’t a kid have any fun?” the youngest asked.

  The boys turned over the long gun, heads bowed.

  “Know anything about black powder rifles, boys?” he asked.

  They suddenly stood at attention, shaking their heads.

  “Then let’s teach you a little about the ballistics of muzzle loading firearms. Which one of you is Zeke?”

  “Me,” the older of the two blurted out.

  “Your assignment is to find a bag with small round balls in it.”

  “Like marbles?”

  “Smaller than marbles and made of lead.”

  Zeke saluted and scurried off.

  “And you must be Zach,” he said.

  “Right. What’s my assignment?” Zach wiped at his nose, sniffing.

  “First tell me. What is your aunt’s name?”

  “That’s easy. Aunt Adele.”