Until November

Chapter 17

Jocelyn

The next two nights call for major friend help. Leona stays with me. Andre and Dylan hang out and 'patrol' the property until midnight. I doubt someone brave enough to break into my house would be scared off by Andre's charming grin and Dylan's whew, I just completed puberty muscles. Their presence is comforting, even as I overhear Andre and Dylan discuss my busted front door lock. "You think it's supposed to go that way?" Andre says. 

"We should have rekeyed the lock." Dylan passes his phone to Andre. They put their heads together. Reading instructions. Absorbing. Sharing brain cells. "There's always Pebbles. I can go get her." 

They glance over their shoulder at me.

"Isn't Pebbles going on 10?" I ask about Dylan's beloved St. Bernard. Any intruder would walk right on over her, mistaking her for a big hairy pillow. "We might want to just board up the door. The contractor has me on a waitlist."  

"We're not leaving until the lock is installed." Dylan swipes his straight blond hair off his forehead.

"Or until lunchtime," Andre says. "I can't work without my midmorning snack." He looks at his watch. "I have to be at the golf course by 1:00."

"You guys don't have to stay. Put some wood across the front door. I can use the back door for getting in and out."

Andre puts his arm around my shoulder, his warmth comforting as a favorite sweatshirt. "You're good people, Madson. You've been my friend since my first week at the course. Remember? That guest tried to say I hit him with the golf club? You had been watching and when it came down to your word against his, you offered to quit if that guy made one cent off me for trying to stage a lawsuit."

"The only reason I saved you is because work would have been extremely boring without you."

He squeezes me hard. "That is true. Speaking of entertainment. I started a betting pool. You want to get some skin in the game?" 

"No."

"So far we have a $1500 cash prize which we think will double," he continues, trying to sell me on it.

Dylan's face perks up at the potential for someone to go in on whatever scheme they have going on. "It's $20 entry fee. You're either betting for or against Ben Ryan ranking first place in the Fielding Cup."

My face pales. Ben is the last person's name I want mentioned in this house, but as Andre and Dylan return to working on the door, I get the cash out of my wallet and put it next to Dylan. "I'm betting against him. He's not going to win. Here's forty dollars." 

Dylan takes the cash with a gleam in his eye. "Thought you'd be rooting for him. He asks about you." 

"Oh?" My interest is piqued. My guard goes straight up. "And what is he asking?" 

"Mostly little things. How long you've been teaching lessons. Do you hold grudges? How many glasses of wine does it take for you to lose the superior attitude?" 

My gaze flares. "I'm the one with the attitude?" 

Andre averts his gaze. "I mean, sometimes."

"Don't you dare finish that thought."

Dylan coughs like it's a cover up. "We told him after two glasses he's good to go. You start to thaw." 

A playful hit to his arm has him acting hurt. My fingers mimic zipping my mouth. "Next time he asks, the subject of my life is off-limits. Got it?" 

Noelle's cries bring me back to the nursery. The whirlwind starts up again, the endless feeding, changing, exhausting sprint on empty with my imagination sending my heartrate spiraling. The image of two big men entering my home in the middle of the night springs fear in my belly. The things that could have happened. What if they come back? What did they want? A photo op with Ben comes to mind and I dismiss it. Maybe they want to hurt me. Maybe there was nothing they wanted except to break in and steal a television. Ben's story about the woman breaking into his house resonates with me. Is someone following him?