Free It Had to Be You by Jill Shalvis Page B

“Gotta go.” Luke clicked off and walked through the house, looking out the window at the white Dial-A-Ride van in his driveway. Ah, Christ. He opened the front door and faced the entire gang of Lucky Harbor’s biggest troublemakers: Lyle Lyons, Cecil Elroy, Joseph Wykowski.
    And their ringleader, Edward Gregory.
    Edward and Luke’s grandma had divorced in the ’70s, when Fay had founded the local historical society to preserve the buildings that made up Commercial Row, and then insisted on running it herself. Back in the day, Edward hadn’t gotten the memo about women’s rights, not to mention exactly how strong willed and stubborn a Hanover could be. He’d stood firm, and Fay had dumped him.
    Edward had moved out, eventually buying the house next door, saying he’d done so to spite Fay. But everyone knew it was because he hadn’t gotten over her.
    Or her death.
    Or Luke, seeing as he’d caused it…
    Luke leaned against the doorjamb and waited, because whatever this was, it was going to be good.
    Or really, really bad.
    “Took you long enough to answer the door,” Mr. Lyons said, leaning heavily on his cane to peer inside, and then let out a low whistle at the mess. “Holy smokes, boy. You haven’t outgrown that party animal stage yet?”
    “He didn’t do that, you idiot, the cops did,” Mr. Wykowski said. “They tossed the joint looking for the dough.”
    Edward didn’t speak. They hadn’t been face to face in years, hadn’t seen each other since Fay’s funeral. “What’s up?” Luke asked.
    “We called Edward to drive us over here to see you,” Mr. Wykowski said. “On account of I lost my license last year and these yahoos are blinder than bats.”
    “Hey,” Mr. Elroy said, glaring at him. “You’re the one who tried to drive down the pier and ended up nose first inside the deli. You smelled like pickles for a month.”
    “I turned at the wrong place. Big deal, we all make mistakes.” Mr. Wykowski waved this off as he turned to Luke. “Ali’s still at the police station.”
    “I know.”
    “Thing is, Ted Marshall’s sort of the golden boy around here. Hell, he had the senior center redone last year so we could open up more rooms, and he single-handedly raised the money for the Dial-A-Ride van. He makes sure there’s money in the budget for Edward’s pay. People love him and trust him. If he says Ali stole the money, everyone believes him. You know what I’m saying?”
    “No,” Luke said. “Just because someone’s a good guy doesn’t mean what he says is gold. There’s a justice system.”
    Which he knew better than anyone didn’t always work.
    “Listen,” Mr. Lyons said, “we watch Law and Order . We know shit happens. And shit’s happening.”
    “Ali’s our ceramics teacher,” Mr. Elroy said. “She also gets library books and reads to us. We need to help her. We’re all she has.”
    “And you want me to do what exactly?” Luke asked.
    “We figure since she’s been staying here, that makes her yours too.”
    “It’s not like that,” Luke said.
    “What is it like?” Mr. Elroy asked, and every one of them looked at Luke through rheumy, but sharp-as-hell, eyes.
    Yeah, Luke, what was it like? She’d come along when he’d wanted to be alone, and she’d gotten his entire house torn up in the search for the fifty large. But the landline hadn’t rung in a full twenty-four hours. Ali, whose damn life was circling the drain, had amazingly managed to scare everyone off and give him a chance at his peace and quiet.
    In spite of himself, he wanted to help her in return. Not that she wanted his help. The envelope of cash she’d tried to give him was still on the table. Broke as shit, she’d still given it to him, because that was the right thing to do.
    It’d been the pride flaring in her eyes that had slain him. She needed to pay her way. He was an ass, but not that big an ass to squelch the life that she projected with every single breath. He might be standing