On some days, it was that last one that garnered the most additions. It didn’t feel right to throw away family pictures, but she didn’t know what to do with the ones in which she didn’t recognize the people at all. For now, she just left them piled in boxes. It was tempting to sit and read a few more of the letters she’d unearthed yesterday, but she limited herself to skimming just a handful, which had dates spanning more than the past century. The entire collection went into the pile of things she planned to save.
Her primary goal was to pare down the sheer amount of stuff in the house, but she also needed to make room for her own things. For the most part, her belongings still sat in boxes piled in a small room in the back of the house. There wasn’t much she’d salvaged from her marriage, but using all of Aunt Sybil’s things made it feel as if she were a guest in this house, not its new owner.
Sorting also gave her something to do with her time, while she figured out what came next in her life. At this point, she’d expected to still be half of the couple, Chad and Abby Ohler, who maybe had two kids and a dog. Instead, she was back to being Abby McCree, alone and starting over on her own.
Enough of that. She wasn’t going to sit there and wallow in what-ifs and where-did-I-go-wrongs. She’d done enough of that, starting immediately after she’d confronted Chad with her growing suspicion that he was having an affair. Unfortunately, her instincts had turned out to be right on target. Water under the bridge and all that. His loss.
The burn of tears trickled down her cheeks, no doubt the result of all the dust she was stirring up. Ignoring them, she got busy. Never sure what she’d find, sometimes it felt like she was on a treasure hunt. From what she could see, today’s boxes contained old Christmas decorations, some hand-embroidered table linens, and a set of canisters decorated with pictures of mushrooms done in shades of yellow, orange, and green.
She held up the smallest one and grinned. “You’re all going in the donate pile for the quilting guild’s garage sale. I’m betting someone will want to revisit the seventies.”
The Christmas ornaments went in the same pile, but she set the linens aside to take downstairs to be laundered. Unlike the family photos, someone had taken the time to pin a note to each piece, indicating who’d done the embroidery and the approximate date it had been done. Even if Abby never had kids of her own, she did have some distant cousins who might like to have a piece of the family history to keep.
There was one thing she’d yet to find. Years ago, she’d come to spend most of a summer vacation with Sybil. The two of them had made a quilt top from clothing belonging to at least three generations of their family. Unfortunately, they’d run out of time before they could finish it. Sybil had promised to pick up where they’d left off the next time Abby came for a long visit. But upon returning home, Abby had learned that her parents had filed for divorce. After that, thanks to the custody agreement, Abby had spent all of her summers with her father’s new family in Oregon.
Any further visits with her aunt had been rare and too short to work on a major project like the quilt. Eventually, Sybil had promised to finish the quilt by herself, but it would still be Abby’s someday. There were other quilts in the house that were nice, but she wanted this particular one because of the good memories that it represented.
Having completed her self-assigned number of boxes for the day, she dusted off her hands and stood up. Judging by the angle of the sun in the sky, she’d been up there for several hours. If that hadn’t been enough of a clue about how much time had passed, the way her back and legs protested from all the bending and lifting would’ve also told her.
It took a few stretches to get everything loosened up and moving again. She turned off the lights and headed back downstairs with the box of linens. At least she and Zeke had taken their daily walk early that morning, so she could, in good conscience, zone out on the sofa with a book after dinner.
“Zeke, I’ll get you fed and then see what I can scrounge for my own dinner.”
He hustled ahead of her to assume a position near the container that held his kibble. The phone rang just as she finished filling his bowl. She considered ignoring the call, knowing her friends and parents wouldn’t use the landline. No doubt it was a wrong number or someone wanting to sell her something. On the other hand, most of Sybil’s friends still used her home number, even though they wanted to talk to Abby.
She reluctantly picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
As soon as she recognized the voice on the other end of the line, she wished she’d ignored the call. “Abby, this is Glenda. I meant to remind you about tonight when I was there earlier today. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty sharp. We don’t want to be late.”
Late for what? Rather than admit that she had no idea what the other woman was talking about, Abby hustled across the kitchen to check the big calendar on the wall. Well, drat. How had she missed seeing the note about a meeting at city hall? Especially when Sybil had underlined it three times for emphasis.
“I can see that Aunt Sybil had intended to attend, Glenda, but I don’t think I need to go to a city council meeting. I’ve spent the afternoon clearing out stuff upstairs, and I’m covered in dust. Besides, I haven’t lived in Snowberry Creek long enough to be up on current events, so I probably wouldn’t even know what they’re talking about.”
There was a heavy silence coming from the other end of the line.
“But you have to go, Abby. Everyone’s expecting you.”
A feeling of impending doom washed over her. She knew—just knew—she was going to regret this, but Glenda had left her no wiggle room.
“Okay, I’ll bite, Glenda.” She drew one deep breath and then another before she could gather up the courage to ask the one question she already knew she didn’t want to have answered. “Why?”
And just as Abby feared, Glenda shared the bad news.
Chapter Two
“I’m sorry, but I thought we’d already told you about the meeting. Last spring, the mayor herself asked Sybil to take over as chair of the town’s Committee on Senior Affairs, which reports directly to the city council. They even did an article in the paper about her appointment, with Sybil’s picture and everything. It was quite an honor for her. We all thought so.”
“I’m sure it was.” But what did that have to do with Abby? On second thought, she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know.
Unfortunately, Glenda wasn’t done talking. “The mayor heard that you had stepped up to take your aunt’s place in the quilting guild. She asked us if we thought you’d be willing to fill in on this committee as well. You know, just until she can find someone else to take over. Considering Sybil’s term of office would last for only another four months, we were sure you wouldn’t mind. We were right, weren’t we?”
Who was this “we” Glenda kept talking about? Not that it mattered. No one had the right to volunteer Abby for anything without consulting her first. Fighting back the urge to rip in to the older woman but good, she forced herself to count to ten before responding.
“I’m sorry—” no, she really wasn’t “—but I don’t have time to take on any more commitments right now. I only agreed to help with the quilting guild because I at least have some experience in that area.” If picking out fabrics for one quilt nearly twenty years ago actually counted as experience. “However, I have no expertise in assessing the needs of senior citizens. I’m sure there are any number of people in town who are far more qualified to do that.”
Glenda laughed. “You’re right. There are a lot of us who have experience in being old. What we don’t have is the organizational skills and business experience that you have. Sybil was always going on about how successful you were in the company you and your husband built from the ground up. How you coordinated everything and kept it all running so smoothly.”
Abby pinched the bridge of her nose to ease the first hint of an oncoming headache. Yeah, maybe she did have skills, but what had they gotten her in the long run? Sh
e did take some small pleasure in knowing that Chad, her ex, was struggling to keep the business afloat all on his own. He’d bought out her half of the company as part of the divorce settlement. While he’d been the public face of the business, she’d worked just as hard as he had.
Evidently, he’d learned the hard way how much she’d actually done. When he started calling her for advice, she reminded him what he’d said in court regarding her role in the company. Something about him being the real force behind all of their success. In fact, he’d told the judge that Abby had been little more than a glorified file clerk and didn’t deserve fifty percent of the fair value of the company. Luckily for her, the judge hadn’t believed him.
But back to the matter at hand.
“I’m sorry, Glenda, but—”
Before she could finish, the other woman interrupted. “It’s okay. I understand, but here’s the thing. I hate to ruin the surprise, but the mayor is going to present you with a plaque honoring Sybil’s service to our town. I suppose I can accept it on your behalf.”
Great. Now Abby felt like she’d been kicking puppies. “No, in that case, I should go. Don’t worry, I’ll be ready.”
“That’s great. Like I said, six-thirty sharp.”
“Got it.”
“And don’t forget to act surprised.”
“I’ll do my best.”
She hung up the phone and glanced at Zeke. “Dog, do you think I just agreed to do more than smile and say a few words about the plaque?”
Her furry friend woofed softly and leaned against her leg while she patted his wrinkly forehead. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
* * *
The next morning, Abby was convinced there wasn’t enough coffee in the world to clear the cobwebs out of her head. She’d come home from city hall last night too agitated to fall asleep easily. After tossing and turning for two hours, she’d given up and gone back downstairs to read until the wee hours of the morning. All told, she’d managed about four hours of sleep. It was a good thing she didn’t have anything on her schedule today other than to go through more boxes. However, that could wait until after lunch. For now, she was going to soak up some sunshine while she took her frustrations out on the blackberries in the backyard.
All in all, last night’s meeting had played out pretty much as Abby had expected. The only positive thing she could say about it was that Rosalyn McKay ran her meetings efficiently. The usual call to order was followed by the presentation of various committee reports. Next, a handful of local citizens expressed their displeasure on various issues in town. The mayor had politely thanked them for their input and then referred each of them to the correct department in the city government to see what could be done. Finally, she ended the meeting with a brief ceremony honoring Aunt Sybil, ending it with the bombshell, “And we want to thank her niece, Abby McCree, for agreeing to serve out the rest of her aunt’s term.”
Abby had almost bolted for the door. Instead, she’d accepted the small plaque. She could only hope that she’d sounded more gracious than she’d felt. The situation was hardly the mayor’s fault, and she figured there would be plenty of time after the official part of the meeting to clear up the misunderstanding about the vacancy on the committee.
Not so much. While Mayor McKay was apologetic, none of the remaining members of the committee were really in a position to take over the helm for the final months of their tenure. One gentleman was definitely on board for taking over when the new committee started up in September, but he was scheduled for a hip replacement that would limit his mobility for the next few months.
In the end, Abby had given in. On the way home, she’d told Glenda in no uncertain terms that this was the last one of Aunt Sybil’s commitments she was willing to assume. Her aunt had always relished being involved in a large variety of groups in town, but that wasn’t Abby’s style. Not at all.
Glenda had the good grace to look guilty and promised not to volunteer her for anything else without talking to her first. That was great, but she still had a garage sale to organize and a committee to run. Mayor McKay had suggested that Abby make an appointment with her office in the coming weeks. Her assistant would be happy to bring her up to speed on what the Senior Affairs group was currently working on.
Rather than think about it anymore, Abby stuffed a few of Zeke’s favorite treats into her pocket and headed out to the toolshed to grab a pair of heavy duty gardening gloves, the pruning shears, and a shovel. Zeke trailed along in her wake and flopped down beside her feet while she considered the best plan of attack for clearing out the heavy growth of blackberries and other weeds. But that wasn’t the only problem.
“Well, dog, I’d have to guess that Aunt Sybil used this part of the lawn as a dumping ground for anything that wouldn’t fit in a trashcan.”
Zeke studied the offending bushes and junk with grave concern. Abby understood how he felt. From where they stood, she could see some half-rotted plywood, a bunch of old pipes, and a rusted-out wheelbarrow, all buried under a thick layer of vines and thorns. No doubt she’d have to pay someone to haul it all away once the plants were cut back to a manageable level.
“I guess I’d better get started. Those blackberries aren’t going to prune themselves.”
Zeke gave a soft woof and stretched out in the grass to supervise.
Two hours later, Abby was ready to concede defeat. Between their thorns and stubborn roots, the blackberries were clearly winning the battle. Despite her best efforts, she’d only managed to reclaim about a foot of the lawn. She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the sleeve of her shirt and wondered what to try next. Heck, it wasn’t as if she’d ever had a yard of her own to care for. She and Chad had lived in an upscale condo on the east side of Lake Washington. The only plants she’d ever owned were a couple of orchids she’d kept at work. Come to think of it, they hadn’t fared all that well, either.
“I hear people around here rent goats to take out blackberries when they’re out of control like this.”
Abby jumped and nearly lost her balance, which would’ve sent her stumbling forward into the blackberries. Two strong hands caught her shoulders and held on just long enough to make sure she was steady on her feet before dropping away. As soon as she was free, Abby whirled around, her heart pounding in her chest as she punched Tripp on the arm. Wow, those muscles were every bit as hard as they looked. It felt like she’d hit a brick wall, the blow no doubt hurting her fist far more than its intended target.
“Darn it, Tripp, don’t sneak up on a person like that. You scared ten years off my life.”
To her surprise, he grinned at her. It was amazing how much a smile softened all the hard edges of his face, making him look younger and more approachable. Tripp jerked his head in the direction of a large pile of brush not more than thirty feet from where she stood. “I didn’t sneak anywhere. I’ve been pruning those rhododendrons for the past hour. Zeke’s been dividing his time between the two of us. I figured you would’ve noticed I was there.”
“Obviously, I didn’t.” She was also willing to bet that hitting a tenant ranked right up there with ogling on the list of things a landlady wasn’t supposed to do. Meaning an apology was in order. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
His smile only widened. “That’s okay. I barely felt it.”
Even though she’d already figured that much out for herself, it still made her mad. She’d put a lot of oomph behind that punch. Stuffing a lid down on her temper, she aimed for a more reasonable tone of voice. “Did you say something about goats?”
Tripp nodded. “I had to pick up some more fertilizer and weed killer yesterday. While I was at the lawn and garden center, I asked the lady what the best way was to get rid of blackberries, especially in an area this large. She suggested renting some goats. Evidently, they love to chow down on the bushes, thorns and all.”
When she tried to picture it, the image didn’t quite come into focus. But what did she know? “Huh, I’ve never heard of
such a thing.”
“Me neither. I asked her for the names of people in the area who do that sort of thing. You know, in case you were interested.”
“Did she say how it works?”
He shrugged. “Evidently, the goat owner puts up a temporary fence around the area and turns the goats loose inside. They charge by the day. The owner, that is, not the goats. I’m pretty sure they’ll consider this a free all-you-can-eat buffet.”
“Very funny.”
Actually, it was. Even if Abby couldn’t quite picture how it all worked, she was game. It paid to hire experts to get a job done right. If she had a problem with the pipes or the wiring, she wouldn’t hesitate to call a plumber or an electrician. This wasn’t any different, even if these experts had four legs and strange eyes.
“Give me the numbers, and I’ll call them right away. It’s worth a shot.”
Tripp pulled a couple of business cards out of his wallet and handed them to her. “Let me know if there’s anything I need to do before they come. I’ve got classes this afternoon and one in the morning. Otherwise, I’ll be around if you need me.”
“Sounds good.” She picked up her yard tools. “Guess I’ll go see a man about a goat.”
Tripp laughed again as he pulled on his work gloves. “I bet that’s something you never thought you’d find yourself saying.”
“True enough.”
* * *
Two days later, she found herself once again standing shoulder to shoulder with Tripp as they watched the goats start chowing down. She normally didn’t hover while a contractor was working, but the goats didn’t seem to mind having an audience. Even Zeke seemed to find the whole affair riveting.
Death by Committee Page 2
