How was this news? “Why else?”
The woman’s dark eyes widened with innocence. “I assumed she thought I was after her because she fired me.”
If Tandy was being honest, that changed everything. Though it made no sense. “Then who didn’t you want to know you were related to Randon?”
“The media, of course.” Moria sniffed and walked past her into the changing room to hang up the dress bag. “Randon seemed like a cool brother, but then I caught him with the ransomware file. I’m so glad I stayed away from him after that. It’s probably why someone went after him. And when the media finds out about it, I don’t want my dress shop linked to their news reports. It would be bad for business.”
Tandy glanced at Greg. Should they believe her?
Even if Moria was telling the truth about her involvement, that didn’t mean the others weren’t guilty. Though with two men who looked alike both involved with the wedding planner, who’d really attacked Randon? The little revelation about Romero didn’t make him seem any less creepy.
“Well.” Moria motioned to the fitting room. “Size six, right?”
Six had been the right size until Tandy had opened a shop with Marissa where her standard breakfast was scones and clotted cream. Hopefully the dress fit.
She turned to pull the curtains closed and caught Greg watching her with a tinge of pink in his clean-shaven cheeks. This whole afternoon she’d been focusing on investigating and not really thinking about where she was and who she was with. If their relationship kept going the direction it was headed, she might be eventually trying on a wedding dress in this very room for him. That is, if Moria didn’t turn out to be a murderous wedding planner after all.
Her own cheeks heated as she pulled the curtains closed. She and Greg needed a real date soon. Not just a lunch date. And she’d even wear a dress for him.
She gripped the zipper of the garment bag.
Of course, she’d never wear a dress this fancy unless she had to. This dress was…
She pulled the zipper for the big reveal. Then she screamed.
Marissa was going to kill her.
Marissa checked her email for the 20th time. What was everybody doing? Connor had messaged earlier that morning that Greg had run background checks on the creepy deputy and the wedding planner but didn’t find much. Marissa had returned an email, asking if they knew Moria’s adopted name since there could be some other stuff on her there. No word.
As for Tandy, she hadn’t responded about the dress fitting at all. Of course, she had a business to run by herself. But that was worth shutting down for her best friend’s wedding. She could do the fitting during a slow time at the shop. Everybody would probably be at the park for the festival anyway, wouldn’t they?
Their booth opened that weekend. Marissa needed to know how her treats were turning out. Macaroons were delicate. Tandy not so much. Would Tandy avoid responding to Marissa’s messages if she ruined the macaroons?
She wrinkled her nose at the computer monitor and jabbed the mouse then poised her fingers over the keyboard to start a new message.
A ding interrupted Marissa’s mental tantrum.
Her heart lurched in anticipation. How sad was it that email was now the highlight of her day?
Who cared? She had mail.
Tandy’s email address appeared at the top of the screen. Should Marissa be happy that her friend wrote or sad that her fiancé hadn’t? She’d simply be happy because this was all she had to be happy about in her life right now.
She bit her lip and clicked.
Tried on bridesmaid dress. Looked good. Except for the fact that it was black. Moria won’t let me order another because you fired her. Sorry!!!
Marissa reread the short message. Was this a joke? Was she on Candid Camera? Was the whole thing a trick, including the attack on Randon? Were her friends trying to get her to relax about her wedding planning because she’d been so obnoxious? Because that was the only explanation for this.
Unless Tandy secretly hated her.
Or Moria…
Moria hated her. Moria did this. Sabotaged her wedding because Marissa had tried to get her arrested. That was bad business, and she’d be getting a very negative review.
Marissa jabbed at the computer mouse to find a review website, formulating the words in her mind. Wedding planner sabotages client who fired her for being an accomplice to murder. Nobody in their right mind would hire Moria after that.
She typed the words and poised her finger over the enter button.
Moria would know the post came from her. Could Moria have planned this? Did she have computer hacking skills like her twin brother? Could she track down Marissa by her IP address? Griffin had warned her not to interact with anyone online unless through her secure new email. But he hadn’t known the bad guys could lure her like this.
Ugh.
Erasing her message with angry jabs at the delete button, she determined to rise above revenge. She had to buy a new wedding dress. Why couldn’t Tandy buy a new bridesmaid dress? But where was she going to order those now? How was she going to try them on?
Tandy was her only hope.
She placed her fingers on the smooth keys, finding the only raised bump underneath her forefingers and wrote the kindest message to Tandy that she could manage.
Tandy, you have to get this under control, or I’m going to risk my life to come out of hiding and plan my own wedding. Have you found a DJ? Where are we with catering? Why haven’t I received pictures of cake options and a list of flavors? Am I going to have to bake my own? Because I could. I’ve got enough time on my hands. Which reminds me, I need to know how the macaroons came out. Please fill me in on every detail before I go mad. That shouldn’t be too much to ask. Sincerely, You Know Who
Then she waited. Tandy had been at her computer or on her phone a few minutes ago. She should be able to respond immediately.
Nothing.
Marissa shoved herself away from the desk. Maybe she should do another exercise video. She’d rather go on a walk in the setting sun. Even if the mosquitoes bit. It wasn’t like there was anybody around to see the red bumps on her skin.
She pulled back the curtain and peeked out the window into the blinding golden light. Griffin had said nobody followed them. And she hadn’t called anyone or contacted anyone outside her email network. Nobody in the world but Griffin should know her location.
Just to be safe, she put on her sunglasses then rifled through the old farmhouse for a hat. A ball cap hung from a four-poster bed in the guest bedroom. It advertised the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. A great disguise.
She pulled it on her head then turned to check her reflection in the mirror over the antique dresser, but before she even saw herself, her gaze locked onto an old felt fedora. What kind of person had worn that and hidden out here in the past? A gangster from the ‘40s? That would be an even better disguise.
Her eyes wandered to the closet. What other treasures would be hidden there? She moved to the solid wood door and twisted the brass knob. Inside, a long skinny closet led deeper into the house. She felt along the walls for a light switch. The worn wood paneling remained smooth underneath her touch. No switch.
She looked up to see if there was even a light above. Yes. A single bulb hung down with a string attached. She reached up and pulled, averting her eyes from the direct light. A rack of vintage styles turned from black and white to color before her eyes. A-lined dresses with puffed shoulders. Wide-leg, high waist pants. Knee-length skirts. Lots of colorful patterns with contrasting trim. Even cocktail dresses with spaghetti straps.
She ran her hands along the material. Excellent condition. When was the last time they’d been worn? Did anyone claim these now?
She dug deeper, sweeping a full polka dot skirt to the side to see if there was more. Champagne white lace caught her eye. A longer, sleek dress shone brightly in the back, like the bare bulb had been perfectly placed to spotlight the wedding gown.
It was nothing fanc
y. Not like the dresses she’d tried on at As You Wish Weddings with their layers of taffeta and intricate beadwork. This was simple and sophisticated, its only adornment the wide V-neck and floaty, lace sleeves that would brush a bride’s bicep.
Marissa stepped inside the closet and took a breath of musty hardwood then ran her hand over the fabric, its soft silk strands caressing her fingertips. Time had only aged the gown to perfection. She lifted the hanger from the rod to get a closer look, knocking into other hangers.
One banged against the far wall and the sound echoed as if the panel was hollow. Marissa gave it a second glance. A small knob stuck out from the paneling. Why would there be another door back here? Did they have safes when this house was built? Maybe it would be unlocked. She reached down for the handle and gave a curious twist.
A soft click then the door released, swinging away into darkness. She extended her arm into the opening. A thicker fabric blocked her reach. More clothing? She reached around to see if she could push it to one side and half expected the winter wonderland of Narnia to greet her. A shiver ran down her spine, but no fantasy world appeared. Only more hanging material.
She was in another closet. If she kept going, would there be another door, or was this second closet a secret? Would make sense for a safehouse, though this place had to have been built in the 1800s. What would a secret tunnel have been used for back then? The Underground Railroad?
Though Ohio had been a free state before the Civil War, slave owners could pursue from Kentucky and take them home unless they escaped into Canada. She was near a river that could have aided in such escape. Might this house have been one of their stops?
She lifted the wedding dress higher, so its train didn’t drag on the ground then pushed forward to a far wall. This one had molding around an actual door with a normal sized knob. She twisted and found herself in the front room. She’d found a secret passageway. And she never would have if not for this gown.
She lifted the dress to hang on a window casing. It wasn’t full, but it flared at the bottom. This would be perfect with cowboy boots. Not that she was going to wear cowboy boots to her wedding, but it could be pretty cute.
Should she try the gown on? Why not? There wasn’t anybody around to stop her or claim the clothing. Then her wedding dress shopping would be done.
Behind the dress and outside the window, the bottoms of fluffy clouds burned pink in a lavender sky. It had to be a sign. She may be alone out here, but God was still providing for her. Loving her. Chasing her fear away with his perfect love like Connor with his goodbye kiss.
Her heart swelled. She needed to get outside and appreciate the beauty. But where was her hat? She spun around to cross back through the closet, grabbing a trench coat on the way and the fedora on the dresser. Perfect.
Wasn’t there a scripture verse about how she shouldn’t worry about what she ate or drank or even what she wore because the flowers of the field didn’t worry, and God dressed them better than King Solomon? Well, now God was dressing her in splendor. It had to be a miracle that these vintage clothes didn’t have any holes in them.
She adjusted her sunglasses then rushed toward the front door, stopping to peek out a window and make sure she was alone.
All clear.
With determination, she strode onto the wrap-around porch then down toward the open field opposite the woods. The grass smelled fresh, the dirt somehow clean. She raised her arms and spun. This was so much better than an email.
She lifted her face to let the last drop of setting sun warm her skin. Stillness surrounded her. Tranquility. Could this have been how slaves felt in this very spot when preparing to float the river into freedom?
Overhead, the first star attempted to glimmer in a turquoise sky. Soon there would be a blanket of stars. She’d enjoy them tonight instead of dreading the darkness.
She’d spend time with God and in prayer. Maybe all this happened so He could get her alone long enough to show her how much he loved her. How he needed to be her first love if she was going to keep this peace with her wherever she went.
She’d go dig out her Bible. Hopefully she remembered to pack it. She’d packed everything else.
Marissa turned and started back toward the farmhouse. A shed tucked underneath the eaves caught her attention. She’d seen it last night during her pity party, but at the time she figured it housed a lawn mower and potting supplies. But now that she knew God had hidden surprises here for her, she was curious if there were more.
She tromped through overgrown weeds to reach the rickety door. A latch held it shut with a spot for a padlock, but no lock filled the hole. She pried away the latch and swung the panel open to the protest of squeaky hinges.
Now that it was starting to get dark out, it didn’t take long for her eyes to adjust. There in front of her sat an old four-wheeler. The kind Mom would never let her ride when Dad went out with the neighbors. This made her want to ride it more. One day she’d get to ride a four-wheeler and play a tuba.
But for now, she wouldn’t. She’d promised Griffin she’d stay here. Of course, it was nice to know she had options for escape if anything went wrong. Like if someone found her, or the river flooded, or Tandy forgot to put sugar in the berries when making tarts.
But until then, she’d stay put.
Chapter Fourteen
Tandy tossed Zam a mug the next morning. The tall, skinny kind of mug with no handle so he could roll it down his arm before filling.
He dumped in two shots of espresso, spun, and set it in front of Tandy so she could practice pouring in the syrup with his flashy method.
She held the bottle completely upside down then cut it off by angling the bottle to forty-five degrees and sweeping her arm over the mug with flair. And she didn’t even drip on herself this time. In celebration, she slid the mug down the counter for Zam to finish with his decorative foam pour—a puppy face. And it was only for her because she had to snap a lid on the top before their customer, Billie, picked it up.
She’d never been a morning person, but this was fun. Much better than reading Marissa’s email the night before.
A loud screeching sound exploded around them. She jumped. Her patrons froze and stared.
The screech repeated itself. Was that a fire alarm?
Zam continued his juggling routine, unaware of the noise.
Billie plugged her ears. “I think that’s the fire alarm,” she yelled to be heard.
Zam couldn’t hear but the flashing light on the smoke detector must have alerted him. He caught both cups and looked around. “What’s going in?”
Billie pointed towards the entryway to the kitchen. Smoke poured out. As soon as Tandy saw it, she could smell its charcoal scent. Oh no! It must be the cake pops she was supposed to decorate red and blue and display in the shape of a flag.
Well, they were ruined now. And if she didn’t act fast, the sprinklers would go off and ruin everything else.
Zam grabbed a fire extinguisher. “Get the customers out,” he called, not even looking back for her response. “Prop open the roof door open to get the smoke out too.”
Tandy watched him head toward the kitchen as she circled the counter. Billie still stood there with fingers in her ears, so Tandy grabbed the woman’s coffee with one hand and her elbow with the other. “Everyone out,” she called, though most people had already stood and were gathering their things.
Mayor Kensington beat her to the door and held it open for everyone to exit faster. “I called Troy down at the fire department.”
Oh man. It wasn’t like the fire department needed more to do during fire season. The Fourth of July was their Super Bowl, and here she was, distracting the players before their game like a sideline reporter wanting an interview.
“Thanks,” she said anyway. At least everyone was safe. She ran up to the loft to prop open the door to let smoke out before heading toward the kitchen to do what she could before the firemen arrived.
Zam messed with the oven
knobs to turn off the appliance, but orange flames continued to dance inside. She grabbed a tub of baking soda like her dad had used when putting out a stovetop fire when she was little and instinctively reached for the oven handle.
Zam held his hands up. “Don’t—”
Too late. She’d already pulled. Flames roared as they escaped their cage. Waves of heat clawed her skin. Tandy fought to keep her stinging eyes open to see through the growing haze even as the charcoal taste of smoke snaked down her throat.
She should have let the fire die out on its own, rather than feed it oxygen. That must have been what Zam had been trying to tell her. She covered her mouth with one arm and shook baking soda toward the burning cake pops with the other.
Zam aimed the nozzle of the fire extinguisher and sprayed. White foam blanketed the cake pop pan along with the rest of the oven. No more tongues of fire threatened to lick off Tandy’s skin, but black smoke scratched at her lungs.
“Thanks.” She coughed and attempted to wave the air clear. But maybe she shouldn’t have. Because now she could see the huge mess they’d made of Marissa’s oven.
Even if the oven still worked, they’d still lost business for the morning, if not the whole day.
“You’re welcome. But you should probably take the pans outside.”
A siren sounded from the alley. The fire fighters. How embarrassing.
Tandy grabbed Marissa’s striped pink oven mitts with the bows on the back and stuffed her hands inside. She’d just take the cake pop pans out and throw the burnt lumps of dessert and the charred black sticks in the dumpster. Baking was hard.
Zam caught her eye as she passed. “You’re not supposed to put the sticks in the pops until after they’re out of the oven.”
She looked back down at her charbroiled treats. What had she been thinking? Marissa never would have done this.
Marissa’s old boyfriend Troy strutted in, bright and authoritative in his yellow protective gear. He took one look at the pans in her hand and broke into a grin. “Marissa put cake pop sticks in the oven?”
A Latte Difficulty Page 12
