by Jeannie Watt
Alex pulled in another deep breath as she fought with the obvious, and fear-inducing, solution to the problem.
She’d be less noticeable if she acted like any other person new to the area. If she didn’t lock her gate and shut everyone out.
But it wasn’t like she could allow every person who had reason to drive to the Callahan ranch to cross her property. She might have dropped her last name and her aunt may still be the official owner of the house on paper, but Alex couldn’t help but believe that she still needed to take precautions. Jason had stolen a lot of money, and it was a given that the people who’d lost money would continue the search. She’d been officially cleared of suspicion due to lack of evidence, but that didn’t mean the parties involved were convinced she was innocent. And she had no idea if the guy who’d knocked her around in her apartment was one of those who believed she had a line on the money. The thought of confronting him again...
This was her fault for being so stupid. For trusting Jason even when she’d had a sense that things weren’t right. What kind of guy dated a woman for four months and never pushed beyond kissing her good-night? She’d thought he’d been being respectful, because they worked together and too much too soon could affect their working relationship, when, in truth, he’d been setting her up.
What a pigeon she’d been.
Alex’s fingers once again tightened on the steering wheel as she fought to tamp down the anger that threatened to swamp her. She wasn’t by nature a violent person, but the wrongness of what had happened to her stirred feelings that were hard to control. She, the queen of finding a peaceful solution, would love to do the man bodily harm.
Meanwhile, Jason was soaking up sun somewhere, sipping top-shelf bourbon and feeling smug about the flawless execution of his scheme.
You will not act the victim.
No, she would not. She’d lock her gate, keep to herself when she could but do it without drawing attention to the fact that she wanted to be left alone until she felt more secure. No more knee-jerk reactions that she had to explain away later.
In other words, she’d be friendlier—and hope the people of Gavin had short memories.
* * *
“MY GUESS IS that he’s lonely,” Gloria said when Rosalie casually mentioned that Will never missed a county commission meeting. Gloria had grown up with Will and taught his children in the local high school, while Rosalie had come to Gavin as a new bride who was totally unprepared for the reality of ranch life.
“Maybe so. I just don’t want him intervening again on our behalf.”
“Our?” Gloria murmured, giving Rosalie an opportunity to pretend she didn’t hear.
Rosalie took that opportunity because she didn’t want to discuss the matter further...even though she’d been the one to bring it up.
“I heard that Nick was given what for in the parking lot of Hardwick’s by a good-looking blonde.”
Rosalie’s head snapped up from the bouquet she was arranging. “What?”
“I heard it from Mary Watkins when I went to the drugstore this morning. Mary had no idea who it was, but the woman appeared to know Nick.”
“Who would Nick know that Mary doesn’t? That doesn’t make sense.” Nick had been gone for almost a decade, so anyone he knew in town, Mary would probably know better.
“Maybe you should ask him?”
“Or maybe I’ll mind my own business.”
“Suit yourself,” Gloria said with a careless shrug.
Rosalie didn’t bother answering, but the truth was that she was curious. Even if Nick wasn’t still grieving his lost wife, he simply wasn’t the kind of man who got yelled at in parking lots.
Oh, yes. She was curious.
“How are you going to find out?” Gloria inquired, perfectly following her thoughts.
“I’ll ask Katie.”
“Good idea.” Gloria unpacked the last porcelain teacup and set it in place on the shelf. She glanced at her watch, then went to the window and turned around the ornate Welcome sign.
The Daisy Petal had a decent number of customers, but in a few weeks, after they officially announced their opening while participating in the popular June in Bloom vendor show and picnic, they were hoping to draw in people and tourists from the surrounding areas.
Rosalie placed the bouquet in the cooler with the others, then took off her apron and hung it on the iron hook near the counter. The faint sounds of laughter filtered in through the half-open windows. Vince Taylor’s guests enjoying his late-afternoon wine and cheese parties. He’d opened his doors for business less than two weeks ago, but it didn’t appear that the guests were pouring in, despite the time and effort he’d put into the renovation of his properties.
Rosalie had to acknowledge that he’d done an amazing job, and in the spirit of cooperation, she and Gloria had painted their house a coordinating color. But their Grand Lady didn’t look nearly as grand as Vince’s. Instead, she still looked slightly timeworn due to the details they were not yet able to address—wavy-glassed windows and gingerbread trim, to name two. Vince’s houses, on the other hand, were pristine re-creations of the mansions in their glory years. Considering what he charged for a stay, those houses could be nothing less than pristine.
“Oh. My.” Gloria turned away from the window.
“What?” Rosalie asked, her heart beating a little faster.
“Will.”
Sure enough, a second later the door opened and Will McGuire walked in, stopping just inside the door, looking both strikingly handsome and openly uncomfortable. “Ladies,” he said before giving the place a quick once-over.
“Can we help you with something?” Gloria asked in her professional voice.
“My grandniece is having a birthday, and I’d like to send flowers. She’s thirteen, so I thought it would be a nice way to celebrate her becoming an official teen.”
“How very thoughtful.” Gloria gave him a teasing smile. “Not everyone welcomes the onset of the teen years.”
“She’s a good kid,” Will said, relaxing an iota. “I thought maybe roses and daisies?”
He glanced at Rosalie, who nodded because she didn’t seem able to find her tongue. Funny, but she’d been able to find it just fine when she’d given him what for a few months ago.
But, true to his word, Will had not intervened on her behalf again.
Gloria pulled out the catalog she’d created of the various bouquets she made and helped Will choose one while Rosalie busied herself rearranging items that were perfectly placed to begin with.
Really.
She rolled her eyes at herself, then gave a start when Will said, “I heard that Nick had a bit of a go-to with the new neighbor in Hardwick’s parking lot.”
“The new neighbor?” Rosalie and Gloria said in unison.
“So I gather from what Lester said at the co-op. He’d seen her at the real-estate office when she’d picked up the keys Juliet had left there, and he swore that was who was shaking her finger at Nick.”
“I don’t know anything about it,” Rosalie said. She moved a few steps closer, folding her arms over her pale pink tunic, the ridiculous self-consciousness she’d felt a few minutes ago melting away now that she had a topic of conversation to latch on to. It was good to feel like herself again. “I wonder what was going on.”
“No idea. You know if Lester knew that, everyone would know.”
Gloria laughed and then bustled back into the kitchen area to see what vases she had available, leaving Rosalie and Will alone. Very much alone.
“How are things on the ranch?” she asked, determined to act normally. There was no reason she shouldn’t.
“Travis and his crew have everything under control. I don’t have that much to do anymore other than to fill in as needed.”
“Does that bother you?”
“There’s good
and bad.” He glanced down at the antique counter, then back up at Rosalie. “I never really apologized for overstepping my boundaries a while back. I’d like to do that now.”
Rosalie’s eyebrows rose. “Apology accepted, Will.”
He looked as if he was about to say something else when Gloria came back with three delicate porcelain vases.
“The butterflies,” Will said before she had a chance to set them down.
“Excellent choice.” Gloria marked a box on the order pad.
Will gave the delivery details and paid for the flowers, then with a nod at both women headed to the door, leaving Rosalie to wonder what he’d been about to say before Gloria had unknowingly interrupted.
* * *
“DADDY, IF WE TIE kite strings around our bellies, could we fly?” Kendra spread her arms as far as she could stretch them. “I mean a really big kite. Like this.” She wiggled the ends of her fingers.
“How would you steer?”
Kendra gave him a look as the stiffening breeze blew her hair across her face, as if wondering why anyone would want to steer. Why not just let the wind take you wherever?
Nick smiled at his daughter, glad that she was embarking on a flight of fancy. Unlike Bailey, rules and norms were Kendra’s security. He knew it was tied into her mom’s death and maybe her age, but even before the accident had taken Kayla from them, Kendra had loved a good rule. She took after her Aunt Cassie, who loved rules and overachieving, which made her a perfect fit for her job as a school district administrator.
“Those kite men on the TV didn’t steer.”
Ah. The hang-glider show they’d watched the night before. Nick hated the thought of his kid sailing through the air on one of those things. “I think they did steer, kiddo. It was hard to see, but they were using their arms and legs. I don’t think you can steer with a string.”
“I don’t think I could hang on to the kite like they did. I’d get tired and let go, so I’m tying the string on.”
“They’re strapped into a harness that holds them to the hang glider.”
“Really?” Kendra sounded delighted by the prospect of being strapped to a pair of wings. “That would be a lot safer, huh?”
“Yes. Although the safest thing would be to keep both feet on the ground.”
The wind gusted again, this time knocking Kendra back a few steps. Nick reached out to swing her up onto his shoulders.
“Hey. It’s windy up here.”
“Get used to it if you’re going to hang glide.”
Kendra knotted her hands in his hair and laughed. “I hope Bailey doesn’t have bad dreams tonight.”
Sobering thought, but yes, sometimes crazy weather did seem to spark the night terrors.
“You can sleep with Aunt Katie.”
“No. Bailey wants me there.”
End of discussion. Nick started jogging toward the house, and Kendra giggled as she held on tightly. The wind was swaying the trees and creaking limbs, and it was time to take cover and see what Katie and Bailey had been up to while he and Kendra had walked to the pasture to check the feed. The last Nick had seen, they were arranging herbs on a drying rack. His sister’s fresh herb business, which she’d started shortly after moving home last year, was starting to take off, and she was now experimenting with drying and packaging.
The house smelled of sage and thyme when he and Kendra almost literally blew inside. He fought to keep the door from banging into the counter, then pushed it shut against the gale.
“You guys are crazy to be out there,” Katie muttered.
Bailey was wearing a wreath of braided curly parsley on her head, and Kendra immediately went to inspect it.
“Aunt Katie made you one, too.” She jumped off her stool and headed for the fridge. “They won’t last long,” she announced as she pulled the parsley wreath out and handed it to her sister, who carefully set it on her head.
Indeed the greenery was starting to wilt, but nothing his girls liked better than a nice crown of any sort.
“The wind wasn’t so bad when we left, but I’m lucky it didn’t blow Kendra away by the time we started back.” Nick headed for the coffeepot. There was just enough there to fill half a cup. “How’s it going?”
Katie’s face lit up. “It’s going well. Obviously, production will slow down in the winter when I can only grow in the greenhouses, but drying herbs will help bring in some bucks.” She smiled at him. “I have a wedding to pay for.”
Indeed, she did.
“Are you okay?”
Nick looked up from where he’d been studying the floor while sipping coffee. Both girls were staring at him, waiting for his answer.
“Yeah. I’m great.” The girls looked down again, carefully arranging sage leaves on the small, flat pans that Katie had given them. Katie raised her eyebrows, silently saying she wasn’t buying it, and he gave up.
“I ran into our new neighbor in town,” he said as if starting a new conversation. He hadn’t had time to talk to Katie after he’d returned home.
“Oh?” his sister responded in an overly casual tone. Neither of his daughters were paying any attention, so he continued.
“Emmie took it upon herself to chasten her when she tried to buy a hinge. Our neighbor had some views on the matter.”
“Did she think you were the mastermind?” Katie asked as she continued to spread herbs.
“Yep. But we worked it out.”
Katie paused, looking up from beneath her lashes. “For real?”
Nick gave his head a shake. “Probably as well as we’re going to.”
“Okay.” Katie picked up her tray. “This one’s ready. How’re you guys doing?”
“We’re ready, too,” Bailey said. She’d arranged her leaves into a wobbly heart.
“Looks good, ladies.”
A gust of wind tore over the house, and Kendra gave an exaggerated shudder. “Sure glad I’m not on a kite.”
Katie gave her an odd look, and Nick laughed. “Me, too, kiddo. I don’t think there’d be any steering in this wind.”
* * *
ALEX SETTLED ON the sofa with a cup of tea spiked with a splash of bourbon—the same concoction she used when she was suffering from a cold—but in this case there were no sniffles. Only a desire to feel cozy. Safe. Warm.
Both gates were locked; her doors were locked. She had no reason to believe that anyone cared that she’d disappeared after getting the official “we can’t pin anything on you even though you’re the most convenient suspect” from the authorities. Yet she couldn’t relax.
It was the lack of closure. The fact that she hadn’t been cleared, but rather released because of lack of evidence, which in turn meant that someone might still think she was the key to everything. The end result was that she was turning into a paranoid basket case who jumped at every small noise.
The question she wrestled with in the aftermath of her confrontation with Nick Callahan was could she become friendlier? Unlock that gate and allow traffic through? Believe that she wasn’t being sought after in connection with Jason’s crime?
The answer might have been yes if it hadn’t been for the apartment break-in. Was the timing a coincidence, or had the intruder been searching for something connected to Jason’s crime? Was the reason he hadn’t taken anything that he’d heard her coming? Or was it that he hadn’t found what he was looking for?
She went to bed early but had a difficult time sleeping due to the wind, which had picked up and was rattling limbs against the house. She needed a tree trimmer in addition to everything else. Another drain on the bank account.
But maybe someone would catch up with Jason and wring the truth out of him. Then the cloud of suspicion surrounding her would dissipate and she could sell this property to Nick Callahan and return home. Where she would do what? It wasn’t as if she could slide back
into her old life. That was gone.
Would people forget? Or would she always be side-eyed as a possible embezzler? Would every major purchase she made make people wonder if she was using stolen money?
Alex punched her pillow a few times and then curled up on her side.
She wouldn’t go home when this nightmare ended. She’d find a new place to live, probably on the West Coast. A brand-new life, a brand-new her.
And the brand-new her would not be overly trusting. Jason had cured her of that.
You got this, girl.
Alex smiled into her pillow. Maybe if she continued the pep talks, she’d believe herself eventually.
She was just drifting off when a high-pitched squeal brought her upright, heart thudding against her ribs as she fought to identify the horrifying sound. A split second later a house-rattling crash had her rocketing out of bed. She tripped over the slippers she’d left on the rug and went down hard, hitting her chin. She scrambled back to her feet, then froze, breathing hard as she listened, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Wind buffeted the house, which creaked like an old wooden ship, making it difficult to hear, and the blood pounding in her ears wasn’t helping matters.
Finally, she knelt and felt under her bed for the Louisville Slugger—her only form of protection—then crept forward toward the door. When she opened it, air swirled inside, making her shiver. A door or window was open. Her heart hammered to the point that she felt light-headed while silently moving into the hallway, her breath coming quick and hard as she stepped over the loose board that invariably squeaked.
A low screeching from somewhere below her gave her a small heart attack, and she flattened herself closer to the wall, as if she could disappear inside of it.
