by Ellen Riggs
What I hadn’t expected was to see Mandy McCain setting out refreshments. Her face was drawn and pale, but she was stoic as she arranged sandwiches. No one noticed she was setting them up in undulating coils like a python, because they were consumed almost before she set them down.
“Mandy, what a lovely tribute to Lloyd,” I said.
Her eyes cleared a little as she recognized me. “Nadine hired me to cater. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
I led her to the quiet end of the table—the one with the trays of vegetables. “I mean the snake pattern. It shows you really cared about Lloyd and his interests.”
A flush burned instantly in Mandy’s cheeks. “You know about the snakes?”
I nodded. “Terrifying collection, at least to me.” I smiled at her. “I guess you two were a little more serious than you let on.”
“We weren’t serious,” Mandy hissed. “I couldn’t get serious about a man who keeps dangerous snakes in a secret room, Ivy.”
“But you liked him,” I said. “That’s obvious.”
She moved celery sticks around on trays that hadn’t been touched. “I admit it was nice to have someone care about me. You know how I am. I’ve had social anxiety since I was a kid and I’ve never dated anyone seriously. Lloyd courted me in the old-fashioned way, and he never pressured me. For half a second I got my hopes up that there was a happy ending for me.” She gave a bitter laugh. “But there were snakes in paradise.”
“Did you tell him how you felt about them?”
“He loved them. I couldn’t ask him to give them up.” She looked around the room. “In the end I was grateful for them. Being with him would have caused trouble and I don’t handle stress very well.”
“I’m sorry. Today must be hard.”
“I’ll be fine when this is done.” She sighed. “It’s just hard to imagine I’ll ever meet anyone else in Clover Grove. You’re always under the microscope here. You’ll see.”
“Oh, I already know that. And I’m single too, remember. But the game’s far from over for either of us.”
Mandy peered over my shoulder. “For you, the game’s just beginning I think.”
I turned and saw Kellan Harper standing in the doorway. My heart started racing, and not in a good way.
“Kellan and I haven’t been a thing since high school. We had a terrible breakup. The kind you don’t get over easily.”
“Lloyd and I ended on a bad note, too,” she admitted. She started moving the vegetables into the shape of snake coils, too. “Can you believe he gave me exactly the same pendant as he gave Nadine? I thought it was one of a kind. I felt special.”
“You are special. A man like Lloyd doesn’t define that. Where’s the pendant now?”
“I gave it back to him. After I saw it on Nadine I hated it.” She looked down and shook her head. “I feel bad now. I was so mad I snapped the chain and threw it at him.”
“We all lose it sometimes,” I said. “I certainly have.”
Her eyes lit on Lloyd’s widow. “She has no idea, of course.”
“Don’t feel guilty about liking Lloyd,” I said. “Nadine had moved on, too, from what I heard. Who knows… maybe giving you the same necklace was his way of saying you meant as much to him as she once did.”
“If that were true, he’d have finalized his divorce. How could I take him seriously when he just dragged things out?”
“When did you tell him all this?” I asked.
She picked up a tray. “Just hours before he died. When you told me about what he’d said that day about selling the store, I realized it would never work between us. Obviously I couldn’t do that to my family legacy. So that was the last straw.”
“How’d he handle it?” I spoke quickly, because Kellan was pushing through the sandwich crowd to join us.
“He didn’t take me seriously at all. Like most people.” She shook her head. “I expected more of a fight.”
“I’m sure he would have fought for you later. If he’d had more time.”
“It doesn’t matter. Like I say, we weren’t right for each other. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to circulate. Some of the seniors can’t make it to the table and need to be served.”
She dropped a stack of napkins on the floor and I bent over to retrieve them. That’s when I noticed her boots. They were a solid size nine, just a little bigger than mine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Keats and I had tried a lot of activities in the two months I was recovering from my concussion. At first we focused on obedience classes, but they turned out to be a waste of time. Keats was naturally obedient and all I had to do was use a word once or twice and the command was locked into his brain. One trainer suggested we try activities to strengthen our bond, so we experimented with agility, flyball and even bite work. Most were entertaining enough, but our bond didn’t really need to be strengthened. It had formed instantly the second his wet nose touched my hand for the first time and stayed 11 out of 10.
Keats was neutral about most of the activities, but herding he definitely liked. I guess it spoke to him on a primal level. In addition to sheep I tried him on cows and goats, but his secret passion was ducks. That’s probably why he’d taken such a shine to Edna Evans’ hens when they were loose. Even as a novice herder, he liked a challenge.
We’d been to several herding events outside the city before moving to Clover Grove. Now there was plenty of opportunity within an easy drive, but I didn’t have time. Besides, Keats had plenty to distract him as my constant companion on the farm and in town. Even with his boundless supply of energy, he was tired at the end of the day, which was more than could be said of many young border collies.
Still, his ears pricked up and his nose worked overtime when we arrived at the Clover Grove sheepdog trial the day after Lloyd’s celebration of life. Inside a huge fenced area were many smaller pens containing sheep, cows and goats. The crowd was larger than I had expected, but if there was one thing I’d learned since coming home it was that people liked an event—any event, it seemed. They might not be interested in herding but they were definitely interested in other people.
Jilly had forced herself to dress down for the occasion in capris, a T-shirt and sneakers. I wanted us to blend into the crowd, which was a little easier with so many herding dogs in attendance, many of them similar to Keats. We’d come in mid-afternoon when the throngs were at their thickest and the competition was heating up.
“Why do border collies have tails and Australian shepherds and corgis have none?” Jilly asked.
“It depends on their special expertise,” I said. “Aussies tend to work in close confines, where their tails could be injured, so they get docked. Border collies work best in wide open meadows, so they get to keep their tails.”
“I’m glad Keats has his tail,” she said, smiling down at him. “It’s his finest feature, other than the eerie blue eye that sees right through me.”
Keats wagged his plumy white tip at her, proving he liked what he saw, inside and out. He hadn’t warmed overly to anyone in Clover Grove, but Jilly got a free pass from our early adventures.
“I think I’ve lost my taste for herding as a sport,” I said. “At one event a cow jumped a couple of fences when a novice was working with her. That made the cow unfit for herding and the farm shipped her to greener pastures. Of the heavenly variety. The woman whose dog caused the cow to run sat down in the paddock and cried. I worry about making the same mistake, so I’ll probably only use Keats for real farm work, now.”
“Okay. Wow. Then why am I here, in sneakers no less?”
I grinned at her. “Looking for clues. What else? Although I haven’t ruled out Nadine, Kellan has. So now my forerunners are Gwen Quinn and Mandy McCain.”
“Gwen I can believe,” Jilly said. “But Mandy? No way. She’s barely aggressive enough to beat egg whites.”
We stopped to watch a woman running hard with her collie as the dog guided sheep around obstacles quite elegantly. I
t was like the two shared one mind. She barely needed the hook in her hand, but the sight of it sent a shiver up my spine.
“Is Keats going to show us his stuff?” someone asked.
We turned to find Gwen standing in the middle of a group of gray-haired women, all wearing Clover Grove Herding Club caps with the black sheep on the crest. I recognized a few of them, including Myrtle McCain, who gave me a warm smile, and Edna Evans, who didn’t. Gwen had a sullen air, no doubt because I’d officially laid her off with three weeks’ pay, which was fairly generous, especially by Clover Grove standards.
“Not today, I’m afraid,” I said. “We can’t stay long.”
“But you’ve said he’s a natural, and we’re all curious.”
She crossed her arms and adjusted the brim of her cap. I was tempted to take up her challenge. Very tempted. But something felt off and I didn’t trust Gwen not to set me up. Or worse, set Keats up. Dogs frequently got kicked, squished and stomped by angry horns and hooves at herding trials. I wasn’t willing to take that risk just for fun anymore. Keats would have to settle for escorting his own critters around. When the animals all knew each other, it grew into a partnership.
“He is a natural,” I said, looking down at my dog. His enthusiasm from earlier had disappeared and his tail was down. “With ducks, anyway. And I don’t hear any quacking today.”
“I guess that’s why you didn’t bring your hook,” Gwen said.
My eyes darted up to meet hers. It was such a blatant taunt that it shocked me. She had no reason to know the missing hook had been found, let alone associated with Lloyd’s death. Was she trying to make me look guilty again?
I started to speak but a sharp elbow in the ribs stopped me. “We need to mingle,” Jilly told them with a bright smile. “With the inn opening soon, it’s all business all the time.”
“True,” I said. “Is Mandy here, Myrtle?”
She shook her head. “Left her holding the fort. She’s got so much business these days I can barely get her to cover for me. But today I insisted.”
“Grandma needs a break, too,” Edna said. “To hang out with her oldest friends.”
“Agreed,” Myrtle said, herding her friends away with a few swishes of her hook. “Let’s catch Hazel and Beans with the goats in the next pasture. I can’t believe how fast that girl can run at seventy-three.”
“Closer to eighty,” Edna said. “And she’ll probably take the win again today.”
After they left, Jilly turned. “That was odd. Gwen was a little aggressive. Do you think she guessed that the hook’s been found?”
“Maybe she went back in the fields and saw we’d been working on the well. I guess we’ll see if the shoe fits. Kellan is sending someone over to take a cast. I could see her foot was about right but it’s clearly a common size.” We walked back to the parking area, and I continued. “I feel like we may be getting closer to finding the killer, but I’m still leaning toward postponing the opening, Jilly.”
“I know. I was just putting on a good front for the Herding Harpies.” She patted my back. “When all this is over, guests are going to flock to Runaway Farm like ducks to a pond.”
I managed a smile. “I haven’t told the Flordale team yet, and I feel terrible. They have no place to go for their teambuilding retreat.”
“Oh please. They were just being nosy and wanted to check out what you’re doing. With their budget any hotel on the outskirts will take them at a second’s notice.”
I let Keats into the truck and climbed in after him. “It’s probably for the best. I was desperate to show I was doing just fine after what happened. But I don’t need to prove anything to them.”
“You most certainly don’t. They are so far in your rear view now, my friend.”
That made me glance in my rear view, where I found the Herding Harpies standing like a row of gray-haired crows, watching me go.
Don’t stall, don’t stall, don’t stall… I chanted silently.
I stalled the truck immediately, throwing Jilly into the dash once again.
“Sorry, you guys. The Herding Harpies psyched me out.”
We both turned and saw the ladies leaning on their sheep hooks, or each other, laughing so hard I thought they might keel over.
“I guess that’s exactly the reaction they’re after,” Jilly said. “Psyching you out.”
“But why? Do they want me to fail here?” I gritted my teeth as I focussed on my driving. “I don’t get it.”
“Who knows? The small towns in Hallmark movies are sweet as can be.”
“Clover Grove has always had a darker side.” Once we were on the highway, the truck decided to cooperate. “People talked smack about us even when we were kids. My mom’s a character and we were always struggling to get by.”
Jilly pushed off the dashboard and sat back. “Which is why they’re even more jealous that you walked into this arrangement with Hannah Pemberton, I suppose.”
“Well, she’d met them all and chose me instead,” I said, as we headed for town. “Is that my fault?”
“It’s not your fault, it’s your fate. But that doesn’t mean people are going to be happy about it. The sooner you accept that, the more successful you’ll be.”
“Sometimes I wish I had my old grim reaper persona back. No one would mess with me then.”
“That’s not who you wanted to be anymore, remember? It’s not who you ever were, and look at the toll that role took on you.”
Jilly’s head swivelled as we entered Clover Grove, and I sensed her credit card was looking for action.
“Starting the inn is taking a toll, too,” I said. “What happens if the whole thing goes bust?”
She gestured for me to pull over. “It won’t.”
“It might.”
“It won’t.” Her voice was insistent. “But if it did… you know I’d find you a new job in five seconds. You could make some coin, lick your wounds, and build from there.”
“You make it sound so doable.”
“Because I believe in you.” She opened the passenger door and jumped out. “And I believe in Kellan Harper, too.” She shut the door before I could answer and called through the glass, “I’ll cab it back to the farm.”
Her step was light as she headed for the only decent décor shop in town. Daisy had basically stepped down from her role since Jilly arrived, but that had more to do with keeping a low profile than disinterest. I had worried my two design queens would come to blows. But Jilly had embraced the country kitsch style Daisy had started and now they could both feel good about their contributions.
“I’m lucky, Keats,” I said, as he rested his muzzle on my shoulder. “I know that sounds strange, given what’s going on, but I thank whatever gods there be every day for you and Jilly and my family.” He added his two cents worth with a low mumble. “Okay, and Kellan, too, I suppose. He is just trying to keep us safe. But it’ll be a long time before I forgive him for threatening to seize you.”
Keats gave an odd little peep that made me turn my head. There, on a side street just off the main drag, sat the world’s smallest library. I hadn’t been inside it, or even thought about it, since high school. On a whim, I turned the corner and then did a U-turn to pull up out front.
An elderly woman shook her cane at us from the front desk as we walked in. “You can’t bring that mutt in here, Ivy Galloway. This is a library, not a dog park.”
“Mrs. Bridges, how nice to see you.” I walked right over to the desk. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
She shook her cane again. “Do not try to sweet-talk me. Not after that terrifying turn you made outside. Someone should report you to the township, and it might just be me.”
“You’re right, it was a bit reckless,” I said, giving her my best down-home smile. Dottie Bridges had always been a tough nut to crack. “I just got a sudden urge to take a walk down memory lane. You know how many hours I spent in here as a kid. I borrowed piles of books.”
“Unlik
e your siblings,” she said. “You’re the only one who had any hope of—” She caught herself. “And yet here you are back, and with a hairy beast in tow. People have allergies, you know.”
I made a show of looking around. “For the moment, we’re the only two here. How about I agree to leave with Keats the second someone so much as sniffles?”
“Keats?” Her eyes narrowed. “What a terrible insult to one of the great poets.”
Pointing to the stacks, I said, “I discovered the original Keats right there. You’re the one who introduced me to the classics, and that’s how I got a scholarship to college.” I perched on the edge of the desk. “I guess I owe it all to you.”
It looked like the pill would go down in the jam but then she collected herself. “You gave up your successful career to run a silly hobby farm. I won’t take credit for that.” She poked me hard in the hip with her cane. “Now get off my desk and take that mutt out of here.”
I moved out of reach. “He’s my therapy dog, Mrs. Bridges.”
I rarely said that aloud but it was true nonetheless.
Mrs. Bridges finally settled her wings and lowered her cane. “Well, I was sorry to hear about what happened to you, Ivy, but I’m not sure I buy the therapy dog story. A border collie is more likely to cause stress than take it away. I’ve owned a few in my time.”
“Not Keats,” I said, stroking his soft ears. “He has the soul of a poet.”
Pushing her glasses in place, she looked down at the index cards on her desk. “Fine. Go do what you need to do while the place is empty. We close in just over an hour.”
“I’d like to look at back copies of the Clover Grove Tattler,” I said. “I’m writing up some promotional material about the farm for my guests. I’m sure it was mentioned now and then.”
“Whatever you like,” she said, shuffling her cards.
