by Ellery Adams
Cooper turned to Danny. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll live,” Danny answered. He glanced at McNamara, who held his notepad and pen at the ready. “Someone came in while I was sleeping. All of a sudden, I felt something over my face. I couldn’t breathe. I put my hands up and felt the pillow.”
“Looks like you put up one heck of a fight,” Quinton commented, looking around the room. “Good for you.”
“You learn a thing or two in the Marines. I wasn’t going down easy. Anyway, by the time I pushed him away and got the pillow off, he was out the door.”
“Did anyone else get a good look at him?” McNamara asked. He looked from Danny to the nurse and doctor. “Anyone?”
Both the doctor and nurse shook their heads.
“We only saw one person come down the hallway . . . before the man and woman over there arrived, that is,” the nurse said, pointing at Savannah and Jake. “And that was a flower delivery person carrying a vase.” She turned her attention to the shards and yellow roses on the floor. “That vase. Flowers are typically left at the nurses’ station, and I assumed that’s where the delivery person was headed.”
“Did you get a good look at the person with the flowers?” McNamara asked.
The nurse shook her head. “I was busy—on my way to see a patient. They maybe wore a hat. A uniform jacket.” She shrugged. “I’m really not sure.”
“Did you at least see if it was a man or a woman?”
“I didn’t notice. The face was hidden behind the flowers.”
“And no one found that suspicious.”
“We get flower deliveries all the time. Nobody pays attention. We see the uniform, and we assume it’s all . . . on the level.” The nurse stared at the broken vase. “Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
“That’s a relief,” Trish mumbled under her breath.
McNamara sighed impatiently. “Mr. Allister . . .”
“Call me Danny.” Danny pushed himself up taller in his bed. “Mister never suited me.”
“All right. Danny, can you tell me anything else about the attack or the attacker?”
Danny shook his head. “Told you all I know. It happened pretty quickly, and like I said, by the time I could see anything, he was out the door.”
“Do you have any enemies?”
“Other than whoever tried to run me over?” Danny thought for a moment. “Can’t think of anyone. I tend to leave others well enough alone, and they don’t bother me.” He turned a smile to Jake and Savannah and then to the rest of the Bible study group. “Present company excluded, of course.”
“No real witnesses. No enemies. Then let’s try to look at this from a different perspective.” McNamara tapped his pen against his bottom lip. “Who knew you were here, besides hospital personnel?” He looked to the nurse. “I’ll need a list of those names from you.”
Danny gestured toward the Bible study group. “They’re the only ones who knew . . . And I doubt you’ll find a would-be killer in their ranks.”
McNamara snorted a little laugh. “I’m inclined to agree with you. There has to be someone else.”
“Sorry, there isn’t. I have no family. No close friends. I didn’t call anyone to tell them I’m here. Maybe it was random.”
“Do you really think someone came into the hospital, disguised in a flower delivery uniform, and just randomly picked your room as the room to go into? That’s not how people operate, Mr. . . . er . . . Danny. Whoever did this came looking for you. He walked into this hospital for the sole purpose of taking your life.”
Danny shifted uncomfortably, and Cooper wondered whether he was more uncomfortable from his injuries or from the current topic of conversation.
McNamara continued. “Until we figure out who did it, I’ll post a policeman at your door. Anybody who wants to get in has to be on his list, or they get to have a nice long talk with me.”
• • •
By the time Cooper finally got home, she was a veritable storm of emotions. Waves of exhaustion mixed with a swelling confusion. She was glad because Christine was free. She was worried about Danny. Having no idea who might have done the deed perplexed her to no end. She still suffered pangs of curiosity about Grammy’s mystery man. And there was the nagging sorrow of leaving Richmond, tempered by a strong sense of duty toward the man she loved.
For nearly twenty minutes, Cooper sat parked in her parents’ driveway, trying to muster the energy to walk inside and up to her apartment over the garage. It was so quiet and peaceful in her truck she was tempted to recline her seat and go to sleep right there, but she knew that if her parents saw her like that they’d think something was horribly wrong with her.
She collected her things, as her phone buzzed. Nathan had texted to say that Christine’s party had been moved to Wednesday evening. At least that meant Cooper could rest after work tomorrow. Tonight, though, she had to get inside the house.
Cooper dragged herself out of her truck, finally, trudging toward the door. Just a little farther and she’d be inside. A little farther after that and she’d be up the stairs. Then it was just a few steps to her warm, comfortable bed.
As she raised her key to the front door lock, she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle and glanced over her shoulder to see who it was. A shot of adrenaline surged through her as her curiosity piqued.
Pulling up by the mailbox was the Caprice, and Grammy was stepping out of it. She leaned back in through the open window and said something to the driver before turning toward the house. The Caprice drove away, leaving Grammy to the mercy of her granddaughter.
Cooper waited on the front porch for Grammy to approach and greeted her with a grin. “Hey there, Grammy! What’s new?”
“Nothing worth mentioning,” Grammy replied, her face expressionless. “Are you gonna open that door or just stand out here all night?”
Cooper put her key in the lock. “Who’s your friend?”
“A friend.”
“What’s his name?”
“It’s what people call him.”
Cooper gave her grammy a look. “Are we really going to play this game?”
Grammy suddenly laughed. “You are a nosy one, aren’t you?”
“Come on, Grammy! Who’s your gentleman friend?”
“I’m not sure Frank would qualify as a gentleman, but he’d appreciate the benefit of the doubt, I’m sure.”
Frank. Finally, a name. She opened the door. “So how do you know Frank?”
“It’s my own business. I don’t get into your personal business, do I?”
“All the time!”
Grammy squeezed Cooper’s cheek between her bony fingers, as if admiring the youthful face of a baby. “That’s one of the many perks of living a long life. You get to be nosy. When you’re my age, you can be nosy too, but until then you’ll have to be content knowing his name is Frank.”
Grammy smoothly glided past her into the house, leaving Cooper more curious than before. She had a name, but why was Grammy so reluctant to talk about this Frank character? And what were they doing together? Why wouldn’t she tell Cooper?
Cooper hurried after Grammy, hoping to pester her for more information, but she was momentarily distracted by the smell of freshly baked cookies. In the second and a half it took Cooper to breathe in the aroma of tomorrow’s Magnolia’s Marvels orders, Grammy made a dash for her bedroom and shut the door behind her.
Temporarily thwarted, but not at all discouraged, Cooper decided the interrogation could wait. She went to the kitchen, where she found her mama in a colorful, well-worn apron, scooping raw dough onto cookies sheets.
Maggie looked up to greet her daughter with a smile. “Coop! I’m glad you’re here. Would you try one of these for me?” She gestured to one of the cookies on the nearby cooling rack. “It’s a new recipe. I need a second opinion.”
“I think I can help with that,” Cooper replied, admiring the uniformity of her mama’s treats. “What are they?”
/> “Chocolate pecan balls.”
Coated in crushed pecans, the dark cookies were rolled up into bite-sized morsels. Cooper popped one into her mouth without first checking the temperature and burned her tongue. Its decadence, however, almost made up for the injury. Cooper fanned her mouth.
“Hot?” Maggie asked.
“Mmhm.”
“Sorry. That batch just came out of the oven. What do you think? Are they acceptable?”
“Mmmhmm.” Cooper took another cookie, blowing on it this time before eating it. Just as luscious as the first one. Resisting the urge to take a third, she stepped away from the cooling rack. “How do you do it?”
“Do what, sweetie?”
“You’re always developing new recipes, and they always taste great. How do you do it?”
“First of all, you only taste the ones I think are all right. The ones I make and dislike you never see. And second, I’ve got years of experience under my belt. It takes time, you know. Learning what tastes good and what doesn’t. Discovering the best way to mix ingredients. Figuring out how each flavor in a cookie affects the other flavors. You just have to be willing to take a chance, and sometimes it all works out.”
In that moment, it was all Cooper could do to refrain from telling her mama about Nathan’s job opportunity. She went back for a third cookie. It was as if Maggie were giving her advice specifically for her current situation. You just have to be willing to take a chance, and sometimes it all works out. After everything that had happened—murder, arrests, attacks—that was still at the forefront of her mind, gnawing at her, and making her feel guilty, because she still didn’t want to leave. Of course, Mama’s counsel could either be interpreted to mean that Cooper should take a chance and express her concerns, or she should take a chance and go to L.A.
Cooper chewed slowly until the urge to share had passed. “That’s not bad advice,” she said.
Setting aside her bowl of dough, Maggie closed the distance between herself and Cooper. Her expression was soft, concerned. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
Cooper straightened. How did her mama know? “Why do you think something’s wrong?”
Maggie shook her head. “Don’t skirt the question. You always do that when you don’t want to answer. Got that from your grammy. However, the answer is that I know something’s wrong because I’m your mother, and I know you.”
It was as motherly a response as “because I said so,” and Cooper couldn’t argue with it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Maggie asked.
Cooper hesitated. Yes, she wanted to talk about it. More than anything she wanted to tell her mama what was happening and what might happen. She longed for the sage advice that had always guided her in the right direction. She wanted a warm hug and assurance that all would be all right.
But she’d already told Ashley, thereby violating Nathan’s gag order. If Cooper told her mama, her mama would tell her daddy. Grammy would find out, as she always did. And Grammy, not realizing how important secrecy was to Nathan, would likely tell everyone she knew.
Finally, Cooper shook her head. “I might want to talk about it . . . later. For now, I’ll just see what I can get done on my own. Maybe your cookie advice will come in handy. Take a chance, and it all works out.”
“I also say to put your best into your cookies, and that’ll make your cookies your best.”
“Also good advice.”
Maggie picked up the bowl of dough again and returned to spooning it out onto the cookie sheet. “And I always say that if Grammy’s in the house, make an extra batch.” She glanced over her shoulder at Cooper with a grin. “I’m guessing that doesn’t apply to your situation, whatever it may be.”
17
Tuesday, Bobby finally returned to Make It Work!, and Cooper, at last, had a day that didn’t involve doing repairs. She’d had a nostalgic time, driving around, working on machines, but at the end of the day, that wasn’t her job anymore. It was nice to do what she was actually being paid to do.
Wednesday was a big day for Make It Work!, because it was the day when Mr. Farmer and Angela were due to return. Cooper arrived early with fresh flowers and new coffeemaker pods, ready to greet her colleagues with open arms and more than happy to return the reigns to Mr. Farmer. It had been a long two weeks. A very long two weeks. Cooper was glad they were finally coming home.
She started the day by signing the last of the invoices and work orders and stacking them neatly on Mr. Farmer’s desk. Then she checked the inventory, leaving a note for Angela regarding supplies that needed to be ordered. She placed her weekly reports on the keyboard of Mr. Farmer’s computer, so he’d be sure to see them, and last but not least, she put the fresh flowers in a vase on Angela’s desk as a kind of welcome home present.
At exactly nine a.m., Mr. Farmer’s car rolled into the parking lot. The entire Make It Work! crew was there—at long last—watching through the front window as Mr. Farmer and Angela walked hand in hand to the door, both wearing smiles so broad they were nearly comical.
“Welcome back!” Cooper exclaimed when they walked in. “How was your trip?”
“Just fine,” Mr. Farmer replied, shooting a sidelong glance at Angela. “We touched base with most of our suppliers, and we made a few new business contacts while we were out. How did things go here? Nothing out of the ordinary, I hope.”
Cooper looked to Ben and Emilio, and the three broke out into laughter.
Mr. Farmer arched a curious brow. “Did I say something?”
“Not exactly,” Cooper said. “You can read all about it in my reports.”
“I look forward to it.” And with that, Mr. Farmer scurried off to his office. That was Mr. Farmer, little pomp and no circumstance. He was a simple man—good, but without the bells and whistles. A plain “welcome back” was more than enough of a party for him.
With Mr. Farmer back at work, Ben returned to his office too, and Emilio, Brandi, Bobby, and Josh hurried to the locker room to don their uniforms.
“They’re off in a hurry,” Angela said, sauntering to her chair and taking stock of her desk supplies. “Lots of work to do, I suppose.”
“We’re just a little behind on repairs,” Cooper replied. “Technically, Bobby and Josh should have been out already, but everyone wanted to be here when you arrived. We missed you guys.”
“Emilio practically ran out of here.”
“He didn’t say so, but I got the impression he didn’t take to a desk job very well.”
“Too much work for him, I’ll bet,” Angela said with a wink. She picked up a stack of file folders from her desk and played with them in her hands. She had the oddest look on her face, and Cooper couldn’t quite place it. “I’m awfully curious about what happened while we were gone,” Angela commented, still playing with the files. “What were you all laughing about?”
“Oh, that? Well, Bobby called in sick, and . . .” She stopped short as Angela continued to twirl the files around. Something was different. What was it? Angela said nothing when Cooper paused, but only grinned.
Cooper looked her over, head to toe. Angela’s hair was the same. She wore it up in a bun with a cute white lace adornment in it. Her clothing was similar to what she always wore: an off-white sweater with a matching pencil skirt. Her makeup was a bit too thick, as always, and her manicure, immaculate. Her ring . . .
Her ring? Cooper grabbed Angela’s hand, and Angela dropped the files. On her left ring finger were two platinum bands—one plain and the other sporting what had to be a three-carat diamond. “What? . . . How? . . .” Cooper pointed at the rings, stuttering and stammering, much to Angela’s obvious delight. “When did this happen?”
“While we were on the road,” Angela answered, taking a moment to admire her rings.
“I need more than that!” Cooper took Angela by the hand and dragged her back to her office, sitting her down and closing the door behind them. “Details, Angela! Give me details!”
&nbs
p; Angela leaned forward, eager to tell the tale. “It was our first night in Atlantic City,” she began. “Mr. Farmer said he wanted to take me out for a nice dinner to thank me for accompanying him on his boring trip. And believe you me, it was a very boring trip up to that point.”
“I’d have thought the two of you together would’ve made it more exciting.”
“There’s only so much excitement you can squeeze in between toner salesmen and printer drum suppliers. Anyway, he took me to this fancy seafood place, and we talked the whole time about spending so much time together and about what a good team we make. He was very sentimental.”
Cooper tried to picture Mr. Farmer being sentimental, but she failed. To her, he would always be the balding boss who looked so much like Danny DeVito. Sentiment and romance were simply not a part of that image.
Angela continued. “After a nice long dinner, we went back to the hotel and decided the night was too wonderful to end so soon. We decided to check out the little sports bar off the lobby. Well, Mr. Farmer treated me to champagne, and we stayed up until all hours, laughing and flirting.”
Again, Cooper tried to picture Mr. Farmer, this time flirting. Nope. No luck.
“We should have been plain exhausted,” Angela said. “But we both had so much energy! Atlantic City will do that to you, though. The lights, the people, the movement . . . You just want to stay awake and see what happens next.”
“What happened next?”
“Maybe it was the late hour, or maybe it was the champagne talking, but all of a sudden Mr. Farmer took my hands in his and said, ‘Let’s get married!’ I certainly wasn’t gonna argue with that!”
“That’s so romantic! Did you just jump right in and get married in the morning?”
“Oh, we didn’t want to wait until morning. We found a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel, and we said our vows then and there, before the sun came up! When I woke up the next day, I turned over to see these lovelies sitting on the pillow next to me.” She held out her hand and admired her rings once more. “Dear Mr. Farmer was up bright and early to find me the perfect rings. Isn’t he just too much?”
