From Bags to Riches. Sandra D. Bricker
do you mean?” Danny asked.
She gripped the edge of the table with both hands and leaned forward, both sides of her mouth lifted into a comical grin. Drawing the words out for dramatic effect, she teased, “Is this a special song for the two of you?”
Jessie felt crimson heat spill over her entire face and neck, averting her eyes to the salmon before her. “It sort of is, yes.”
“Do tell,” Vince said past the mouthful of potatoes.
“It’s just always . . . reminded me of Jessie.”
Vince and Steph looked at each other, back at Jessie and Danny, then back again at each other.
“Danny and Jessie have a song,” Steph said.
“Isn’t that precious?” Vince replied.
“Okay, okay,” Danny exclaimed. “Enough of your nonsense or we may have to start recounting stupid grins of another sort.”
Steph cackled. “He’s right. Let’s quit while we’re ahead.”
“Agreed. Just after I say this—” Vince joked. “I can go grab a pad of paper if anyone has the inclination to doodle anyone else’s name.”
Chapter 4
4
Danny had intended to shower first, but the call of coffee trumped his plan. Instead, he pulled on the jeans still crumpled at the foot of his bed and slipped into a denim shirt he’d left hanging over the top of the bathroom door. He dropped his cell phone into his front pocket, leaving the front unbuttoned and hanging open as he padded in bare feet across the cool floor, kitchen bound.
While the coffee brewed, he rinsed Frank’s empty bowl—more like a trough, really—and ran a clear stream of fresh water into it. The food dish stood vacant as well, and the instant the announcement of kibbles sounded as they tumbled out of the bag to refill it, Frank shoved his way through the king-sized dog door and raced across the floor, leaving two rugs in a heap in the process.
“Morning, buddy. Where you been?”
Frank didn’t waver before diving in to devour his breakfast. When he paused to give his body a thorough shake, the dog doused Danny with a spray of water. “Hey,” Danny exclaimed. “You hit the waves without me?”
Carrying a large mug of coffee with him, Danny headed into the sunroom and pushed open the oak louvered shutters before settling in behind the desk constructed of two colorful surfboards. He opened his laptop to power it up while he enjoyed the day’s first few gulps of hot coffee, and when his phone rang, he fished it out of his pocket to answer. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Callahan.”
“Mr. Callahan,” the very feminine caller greeted him. “Rosemary Stiles from Hollywood Daily.”
Danny sighed, suddenly tasting the bitterness of his morning brew at the back of his throat. “Miss Stiles. I think I made myself clear the last time we—”
“You did, you did,” she interrupted, and the glow of her widening grin could almost be spotted overhead as it pinged off the nearest cell tower. “And I want you to know I heard you. However, there is still so much interest among our readers about you that my editor has asked me to appeal to you one more time. Surely there’s something we can do for you in return for one simple interview?”
He leaned back and propped his feet on the desk, crossing them at the ankles. “Are you familiar with the job of private investigator, Miss Stiles?”
“Please call me Rosemary. And yes, I’ve been acquainted with one or two PIs in my job.”
“Then you’re also aware of the importance of some degree of anonymity. I could hardly go about investigating things if my subjects immediately recognized me as the guy with his mug on the front of the Hollywood Daily. Now could I?”
“I suppose not. But, how about if we—”
“You know, I’ve tried to be as polite about this as possible,” he cut in. He dropped both bare feet to the floor and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “But I don’t know how much clearer I can be. I appreciate your interest—or whatever this is—but I really do not want the publicity you’re offering. Is that coming across?”
“It is.”
“Good. Then thank you for your call, and I hope you have a really nice day. Life.”
“You, too, Danny.”
He disconnected the call and shoved the phone back into its denim hiding place. Shaking his head, he swiveled the chair and concentrated on his e-mail inbox.
A message from Steph: It was so much fun getting together with you and Jessie. Thought you’d like to have the attached.
When he clicked on it, an image of Danny and Jessie came up, leaning close and both of them beaming. He made quick work of transferring it to his desktop before moving to the next message in the box.
Delete, delete, delete to the spam e-mails offering coupons and discounts and unnecessary services before opening the next one from his mother.
Are you going to keep us in suspense? What did Jessie say about the ring?
Instead of admitting he wished he knew, Danny typed a quick reply. She’s thinking it over. Stay tuned.
A few more client e-mails to be answered, a file attachment from a contact providing information on a case, and something from Francesca Dutton. He clicked it open.
Danny, I just wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart for following that nudge you had to connect me with Rochelle Silverstein. Our nonprofit idea has blossomed in magnificent ways, and we’d very much like to take you and Jessie to dinner so that we can update you on our plans and thank you both properly. Name the day and time, as well as your favorite restaurant.
Danny quirked an eyebrow, considering the invitation for a moment before he retrieved his phone again and dialed Jessie.
“Good morning,” she answered with an eager lilt to her pretty voice. “How are you?”
“I’m good. What about you?”
“Excited. I just had the most amazing series of phone calls already this morning. I can’t wait to tell you all about it.”
“Do you have time to meet for lunch?” he asked, and she nearly cut him off to reply.
“Can you come to me? We could walk down to Nosh.”
“See you around one o’clock?”
“I can’t wait.” With a gasp, she added, “Oh! Did you call for a reason?”
“Francesca Dutton sent me an e-mail to—”
“Yeah, I saw that. She copied me. It sounds like fun, right?”
“I don’t know if I’d go as far as fun, but it might be nice to hear what they have planned.”
“How about I set something up with them,” Jessie suggested. “Later in the week at Tuscan Son?”
“Works for me. Just tell me when to be there.”
“Okay. And I’ll see you in a little while.”
As he ended the call, Frank moseyed into the sunroom and pressed his chin on Danny’s knee. A beam of sunlight seemed to point the way straight through the window to the tip of the dog’s nose, spilling out over the bridge with enough glare to cause him to squint sweetly.
The instant the front door blew open, Frank reeled and barked before setting one paw forward in a gallop toward the sound.
“Yo, Frankenstein,” Riggs greeted him from the next room. “What’s shakin’? Where’s your pops?”
“In here,” Danny called out.