Within This Frame Read Free

next door.” He jerked his head in the direction of their pretend house. “He says you have the key.”
    Her mouth pursed. “No. I don’t have a key.”
    Lance rubbed the back of his neck. “Are your parents home?”
    Looking confused, she answered, “Yes. But I won’t have the key whether they’re home or not.”
    A few chuckles rang out at how well Maggie played the clueless girl.
    Exasperation interlaced his words as he said, “Look, we have a U-Haul out back full of stuff and my dad’s waiting for me to bring him the key. The landlord said someone at this house is supposed to know where it is. Can you see if either of your parents have it?”
    “Sure.” Maggie turned and walked up to the door.
    Once there, she whirled around to face him, the bottom of her dress slowly following the motion of her hips. The look on her face grabbed Lance’s throat and squeezed. Hope was etched into her raised eyebrows, shyness reddened her cheeks, and the way her eyes sparkled with friendliness made it hard for him to swallow.
    It’s not real. It’s just an act. This girl is a character. Cecilia Monroe does not exist.
    “Would you like to come in? I made cookies and lemonade this morning. There’s nothing better than cookies and lemonade on a day like today.”
    Lance’s eyes dropped. In his interpretation of Derek, his mom used to make cookies every Sunday and he’d have a tall glass of milk with the treat. His dad would steal a few and go back to work on his novel in the den. It was also a frequent scene Lance imagined in his version of a perfect world. The unnecessary kindness a stranger showed a jaded boy unraveled something tight inside Derek.
    He looked up and offered a small smile. “I’d like that.”
    “Acceptable!” was the immediate shout from Herman. He hurried to Lance and clapped his shoulder, bringing the scent of onions and garlic with him. “Not bad, Denton. Maggie, you were brilliant.” He divided his gaze between the teenagers. “Think you can do it again, but better, and with the camera rolling? Of course you can! Let’s go!”
    Maggie caught his eye roll and smiled. “He’s ferocious, isn’t he?”
    “Like a pit bull,” Lance agreed.

MAGGIE—2010
    T HE DOORBELL RANG in three quick successions.
    Maggie sprang into a sitting position and wildly eyed her surroundings before she realized what was going on: she had been asleep, in her bed, until some jerk decided to wake her up. She put a hand to her matted hair, brushing wayward strands from her eyes, and heaved herself from the bed. Grabbing the robe from the settee, she slid her arms through the sleeves and knotted the tie at her waist.
    A glance at the clock on the wall told her it was seven in the morning. With a groan, she clomped down the stairs to the foyer. A normal day got her out of bed around eight, sometimes nine. Seven in the morning was a number she rarely saw on the clock.
    “This better be important,” Maggie mumbled to herself as she swung open the door.
    She met dark blue eyes and a taunting smile, felt her heart explode in her chest, and immediately slammed the door shut. Maggie then spun around to rest her back against it so she didn’t crumple to the floor. She knew those eyes, that mouth. She’d been intimately acquainted with the man to whom they belonged. It had been years since she’d seen him in person, but he hadn’t changed that much. If anything, he looked better, which was unfair.
    Maggie splayed her palms against the cool wood of the door and counted to thirty as she told herself to not freak out. She hallucinated him. He wasn’t really there. Too much late night sugar was getting to not only her body, but her head as well.
    It was time to stop that shit.
    The doorbell rang again. Maggie covered her face and groaned. He was really there. Her chest was tight and each lungful of air she sucked in was painful. Lifting a hand, Maggie stared at the way it trembled. She had on no makeup, her hair was a nest.