by Amy Boyles
“Oh great,” Willard said, exasperated. “Not only is she attempting to murder the birds, but she’s going to kill our trees, too.”
Malene cocked an eye at him and spat on the ground.
“Oh, very ladylike,” he said. “What are you going to do next, fart on me?”
Malene lifted her slippered foot and looked like she was going to kick Willard, which was ironic since the shotgun was still in her hands.
“Oh, gonna kick me now, I see,” he said spitefully.
“I would, but it’d hurt my bunions,” Malene snapped.
Willard raised his hands in surrender. “Well, we wouldn’t want to hurt your bunions, now would we?”
Malene pivoted the shotgun and moved to train it on Willard.
Okay, I’d had enough. Though these two entertained me, it wouldn’t do for anyone to get hurt.
“Whoa now,” I said. “Let’s calm down.”
“Mind your own business, Clementine. The less you know about this old coot, the better. Shut your eyes and pretend you didn’t see anything.”
Oh no, Malene was serious. She and Willard did not get along—that was an understatement, all right. Just about every day I came outside to find them quarreling about one thing or another. But this—a shotgun showdown first thing in the morning—was taking things to a whole new level.
Panic spread across my chest, and even Lady seemed to shake harder, afraid of what would happen next.
I raised my hand and started to get between them when a familiar voice splintered the air.
“Now, Malene, don’t you go shooting Willard on such a nice Thursday morning. Don’t you have better things to do, like make me a banana pudding, as you promised?”
A slow smile spread across Malene’s face and she turned, at the same time I did, to see Shane idling in his truck. I hadn’t even heard him drive up.
He smiled and the warmth reached eyes that he leveled on me. Me. Not Malene, the one who was about to become all murderous in town.
Malene’s voice softened, and she slowly lowered the shotgun. “Oh, Shane. I’ve got your banana pudding inside. I made it yesterday.”
“Mmm hmm,” he said dramatically. “I can’t wait to taste it, but I’ll be ticked if I have to hand it over to the church ladies so that folks’ll have something to snack on at Willard’s wake.”
He winked at Willard, who ran a hand over his mouth, hiding a laugh.
Malene’s eyes narrowed. “Willard’s been feeding those birds again.”
“Is there any harm in bird-watching?” Shane asked.
Malene’s hackles rose. “There is when the birds poop on my car.”
“Well,” Shane said casually, as if thinking about it, “how about if Willard promised to feed the birds at the nearby trees and not yours?”
“That would be okay,” Malene said thoughtfully. “But if they poop again, next time I won’t be shooting them. I’ll be heading straight to Willard’s house.”
Shane clucked. “If that happens, you should give me a call first.”
Malene’s cheeks crimsoned, and I swear the old lady was blushing. “Sure thing, Shane.”
“Now y’all two make up,” he commanded. “You’ve been neighbors for too long to let a few birds get in your way.”
“Enemies, more like it,” Willard murmured.
“Don’t you start anything,” Malene said. “Remember, I’m the one holding the shotgun.”
As they moved to make up, I walked over to Shane. “You arrived just in time,” I said, relieved. “I was trying to stop it, but things were getting out of hand.”
Shane tapped his steering wheel. “I heard the gunshots and figured it was Malene mad about something.”
“You were right.”
His gaze made my cheeks hot. Heck, I was no better than Malene, blushing in front of Shane.
I’d known him since I moved to Peachwood a few years ago. We’d always been friends, but there was no denying he was handsome, a real looker.
“About last night,” Shane started, “you sure you’re okay?”
I waved away his concern. “Oh yeah. I’m fine. I’m not the one who got punched or did the punching.”
“Yeah,” he replied, but I could tell Shane didn’t completely believe me. “Look, Clem, if there’s something you want to tell me…”
I grinned. “Nope. Nothing that I can say. I’ve told you everything.”
“When those guys woke up, they didn’t remember what had happened. I asked about the girl, but they were so woozy they could barely form a coherent sentence.”
A rare side effect of my power. Trust me, they might have been forgetful for a little while, but eventually they’d remember. It was a good thing for me that they were truck drivers. Hopefully they’d steer clear of Shane’s Place next time they were in town—no pun intended.
I shrugged my shoulders, playing dumb. “Oh well, I’m sure they’ll eventually remember her strong right hook.”
“Yeah…” We stared at each other for a moment, and then I realized that I wore fuzzy yellow slippers and a bathrobe.
“Oh, look at the time. I need to get going.”
Shane inhaled sharply, pinning his focus back on the road. “Yeah, me too. Maybe I’ll see you around later?”
“Sure,” I said.
Before he drove off, Malene handed Shane a pan of banana pudding. “It’s all for you,” she said.
He peeked under the foil. “Woo-wee and does it look like heaven. I’ll have some for lunch.”
“Don’t eat too much,” Malene said. “I’d hate for you to lose that figure of yours.”
Shane smiled before driving off. He was trim, I would give him that.
When I turned around, Malene shot me a knowing smile. “That Shane, huh?”
I did not want to discuss any business with Malene because she had a habit of telling her quilting bee, who then told everyone else.
“Listen, Malene, I’ve got your glass plate in my house. Thank you for the chocolate silk pie. Had the last piece for breakfast yesterday.”
“You didn’t share any with that no-good partner of yours, did you?”
“Sadie? Are you talking about her?”
Malene sniffed. “Yes, if you must mention her name, that is who I’m talking about.”
I scoffed. “What do you mean, no good? Sadie’s the best friend I ever had. She’s the best person I know.”
Malene’s lips pinched together. “You should be more careful about who you trust,” she murmured. She went inside, leaving me standing on the sidewalk, wondering what in the world she was talking about.
When a breeze ticked by, flipping up my robe, I decided it was time to go home and get ready for work.
Chapter 3
“Have you had breakfast yet?” Sadie asked when I arrived on the jobsite.
“I have not,” I admitted. Being out of chocolate silk pie really put a damper on my breakfast options at the house.
Sadie shot me a thousand-watt smile before pressing a warm paper cup into my hands. “Picked up a mocha for you—and an éclair.” She shook a baggy at me.
I graciously took both but sipped the drink first. It was from Bender’s, the local coffee shop. The place took its name from Julie Bender, the owner. She had been widowed a few years ago and, instead of hiding inside her house, decided to open a coffee shop with a bed-and-breakfast upstairs.
Julie made the best everything, and the drink did not disappoint. There was something absolutely divine about the combination of coffee and chocolate.
“Thank you,” I cooed at Sadie.
She winked. “What are best friends for? Besides, you’re going to need all the help you can get. Dooley is on his way here, and he’s steaming mad.”
I groaned. “He is? I’ve already dealt with my fair share of drama this morning. Do I have to deal with him, too?”
Sadie shot me a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.”
“What’s he mad about this time?”
She
nodded toward the skeletal barn sitting in the middle of a peach orchard. “Says we put it in the wrong place.”
I shook my head. “We did not put it in the wrong place. Dooley himself came out here and showed us where it was to go.”
Dooley Hutto had proven himself to be quite literally the most difficult client that we had ever worked with—and we’d only just started the renovation job. He first approached Sadie and me wanting us to find a barn for him to buy, which we did. Simple enough, right? It sounds simple, but Dooley would call me every hour on the hour asking about how we were going to reinforce the barn, and if it was really going to work, and was there a man on the job who would be supervising.
Apparently Dooley didn’t think that Sadie and I were capable of doing any kind of construction. So we introduced him to Liam. Once we got Dooley convinced that yes, we could renovate a barn exactly the way that he wanted, he then searched for a site. We showed him about ten different locations, and he found something wrong with each of them. One had too many big rocks on it, another had a natural spring that he worried would flood even though we gave him options on how to control it. Another was absolutely beautiful, with rolling hills and wild buttercups growing on it, but get this—Dooley said it was too pretty. After a while I got the sense that Dooley had commitment issues and would never decide on the perfect spot, and I told him that.
Y’all, my temper is short and so is my fuse. I flat out suggested that Dooley find another design and contracting firm because I was done being called at all hours of the night and sick of his lack of commitment.
Well, I don’t think anyone had ever told Dooley Hutto off in his entire life, because his face turned red as a beet and he practically begged Sadie and me not to leave the project, to give him one more chance.
I found a perfect spot to house the barn, one with a field of lavender behind it. Dooley took one look and proclaimed it the most beautiful place that his money could buy.
Sold. And piece by piece, we very carefully and successfully moved the barn onto the new land.
After that, Dooley had calmed down, but apparently he was back on the rampage, angry about something or other, and I was going to be the person to deal with it. Why? Because Dooley always came to me when he had a problem. Oh, he told Sadie about it, but I would be the one dealing with it.
Just then, the sound of a truck rumbling up the gravel path caught my attention.
I took one look at the faded green pickup trolling up the path and groaned. “Great. Here he is.”
Just then, Dooley’s hand shot out of the window and he waved. “Hey, Clem!”
I groaned again. Dooley was acting happy; that meant he really had a bone to pick. I’d noticed that the nicer that man was during the greeting process, the worse his complaint would be.
Sadie pulled blueprints from a tube and spread them across the bed of my old ’58 Ford pickup. “Let’s look busy,” she said. “Make him think we’re working hard.”
I pointed to the barn where Liam and his crew were working. “We are working hard,” I countered.
Dooley parked and hopped out of his truck. Sadie pointed to a spot on the blueprints. “That living room is going to turn out great. Hey, Architectural Scavengers has some new lighting fixtures,” she said about a store downtown. “Can you go check them out today? See which ones you think will work for the main room?”
“Sure. Right after I deal with this.”
“Clem, Sadie,” Dooley said in greeting, “we’ve got a problem.”
“And good morning to you,” I said. Dooley was a short, bald man with a red face and thin lips that were just about always pulled into a scowl.
“Yeah, yeah, good morning,” he said before pointing a finger at me. “Clem, we need to discuss this whole foundation thing. I came up here yesterday and looked at those poles. They aren’t gonna hold, Clem. Now, I thought you and your crew knew what you were doing when it came to this project, but now I’m not so sure.”
So his frustration wasn’t about the location, it was about the reinforcement. I shot Sadie a questioning look and she shrugged.
Conveniently her phone rang, and she bounced up from the truck bed, flinging her brown hair over one shoulder. She snatched her phone from her purse and glanced at the number, frowning.
Which reminded me. “How’d it go with that mantle last night? You get it?”
Sadie’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “What? Oh, no. Look, I’ve got to take this.”
She excused herself and stepped away, leaving me and Dooley alone.
Awesome-sauce.
I turned to him and held out my hand. “Did Dottie give you any peaches for me?” I asked, ignoring the frustration twisting on his face.
“Yeah,” he grudgingly confirmed. “I’ve got a bag in the front seat for you. But you’re not getting them yet—not until we get this settled.”
One of the reasons why I hadn’t outright fired Dooley was because of his gem of a wife, Dottie, and the peach farm they owned down the road. Dooley, close to retirement age, had promised the farm to his son. That meant that he and his wife would retire to the country barn we were converting into a livable space.
“Listen, Clem—”
Feeling like playing with fire, I snaked my arm through Dooley’s and tugged him toward the barn. He shot me a frightened look, as if he feared that I would up and steal him from Dottie.
“Don’t look so worried, Dooley. It wouldn’t kill to you to escort a lady to a barn, would it?”
Dooley, flustered, sputtered out his next sentence. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t, but don’t you go telling Dottie. I don’t want to deal with a jealous woman. It’s not good for my home life, if you know what I mean.”
I smiled warmly. “I do know what you mean. Now come on, let’s go talk to Liam.”
Liam was busy giving directions to his crew. The concrete truck had arrived, and he was preparing his men to smooth out the new foundation.
“Liam,” I called. “Dooley’s got some concerns.”
Before Liam Tully became Sadie’s boyfriend, he was the most eligible bachelor in all of Peachwood. With his blond hair and surfer good looks, Liam was definitely a looker, and his easygoing personality only added to his charm.
But I swear as soon as I said Dooley’s name, Liam just about rolled his eyes into the back of his head. But instead of appearing frustrated, he came over and shook Dooley’s hand.
“You got some concerns? Hit me with ’em.”
“Seems like those poles inside aren’t gonna be strong enough to support all this new work you’re doing,” Dooley said gruffly.
Liam nodded, appearing to be considering Dooley’s point, when in reality I swear we had gone over this with Dooley about a thousand times. I shot Liam a glance that conveyed how sorry I was to stick him with Dooley, and Liam gave me a slight nod and smile.
“We’re gonna reinforce the poles and beams,” Liam explained. He patted Dooley on the back and pulled him towards the barn. “You ever seen a foundation get poured?”
Dooley scratched his bald head. “Why, I don’t believe that I have.”
Liam pointed to the truck. “Come on and I’ll show you how it gets done. You’re gonna love this.”
I sighed and silently thanked the Lord that Liam was working with us. By the time Liam walked Dooley over to the truck, he looked at ease, the tension line in his shoulders having vanished.
Happy that we’d put Dooley’s fears to rest, at least for today, I headed on back down to Sadie. I grabbed my coffee cup from the truck bed and lifted it as if in toast.
“To Liam, for taking one for the team.”
Sadie stared at her phone. She didn’t react as if she’d heard me.
“Sadie? Earth to Sadie! Everything okay?”
Her gaze snapped to mine. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?” she said tensely.
I shrugged. “I don’t know; you’re the one who looks deep in thought. You sure you’re good?
Her gaze cut back to
her phone. She stared at it another moment, flashing the case in my direction. Our phone cases were custom-made, a gift from Sadie to both of us when we first started our company. They each had Magical Renovations printed on them with a peach blossom below the words. That’s our logo, one that I designed.
She slipped the phone into her pocket and closed her eyes. “Yes, everything’s fine. Just some stuff with my mom.”
I quirked a brow. “Your mom? You never talk to her.”
Sadie shivered and, for a second, looked vulnerable. “She’s been calling lately. Wants to make up for stuff that happened a long time ago.”
I hiked a shoulder to my ear. “Maybe you should talk to her.”
She shook out her ponytail. “You haven’t lived in town long enough to know what happened.”
I bristled at the comment. No, I hadn’t grown up in Peachwood like everybody else who lived here, but Sadie and I had been friends for years. I trusted her and thought she trusted me.
“I’m not trying to pry,” I said, “but if she’s offering an olive branch, maybe you should take it.”
She shook her head fiercely. “Just forget it, Clem. Forget it.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve gotta go. I’ve got an appointment with some bathroom tiles.”
I curled up the blueprints and handed them to her. “Let me come. After that we can head over to the antique store for furniture.”
Sadie stumbled over her words. “Oh, sorry, but I’ve got, um, it’s a new tile guy. He’s really weird. Only likes to talk to one person at a time.”
Okay, I was gonna try hard not to have my feelings hurt by that. True, Sadie and I worked independently and then came together near the end to shimmy up any design ideas, but her not wanting me to come along to meet a new contact was weird. It wasn’t like her.
As Sadie slipped into her Camry and headed off, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my best friend was lying to me. But why? What did Sadie have to hide?
