by Ellen Riggs
“Of course I said no.” I zipped up my parka again to leave in a huff. “It would be horrible having a camera crew documenting my every move. I’m an introvert.”
“I get that,” Teri said. “You couldn’t even blow your nose in peace.”
“Exactly. The nation does not need to see that.”
Keats sat between us, head swiveling to catch each of us with his sharp blue eye.
“Except I’m sure Evie Springdale would edit out the nose blowing. She sounds like a good person. Hannah Pemberton trusted her, and she didn’t trust just anyone. I could hardly get a word out of Hannah when she was in here and I found her intimidating. But one time she brought in the camera crew and I can’t even tell you how many calls I got after the show aired. It was the best PR ever.”
“Ah. So that’s why you’re thinking I should take my chances with the nationwide nose blowing.”
“Global, more like.” Teri grinned. “The Internet knows no limits.”
I looked around the empty shop. This time of year was typically slow for anyone in town who didn’t sell essential supplies. “So a show would be good for business.”
“Yeah. Your business.” She smoothed her purple speckled caftan, which looked brand new. “The rest of us might see an uptick, too.”
“Sorry, Teri. I can’t slice open my life for the public. I attract too much attention around here as it is.” I didn’t try to hide my shudder. “I spent my whole life trying to escape notice and succeeded till lately. Returning to anonymity is my greatest ambition.”
“I understand. Totally.” Teri went around the counter and started rearranging a display of bracelets with rainbows of handmade beads. Most of her work was tailored to the average client who wanted average things, despite the fact that she had quirky taste herself.
“But you think I made the wrong decision,” I said.
Keats started to pant, and not a happy ha-ha-ha. More like an anxious uh-uh-oh.
Twirling a bracelet on her index finger, Teri shook her head. “I wouldn’t want cameras following me around. And it’s not my place to tell you what to do.”
“But…?”
The bracelet spun off her finger and soared toward me. I caught it in one hand and slipped it over my wrist.
“You see those beads?” she asked. “Look closer.”
Scattered among transparent green and blue beads were a few ugly little heads with painted faces. “Are those… zombies?”
Her face lit up. “You’re the only one who’s noticed. I’ve sold quite a few of them to nice ladies from Dorset Hills who see what they want to see.”
“Well, I consider myself something of a zombie connoisseur,” I said. “Jilly and I have seen every zombie flick ever made.” I put the bracelet on the counter and pulled out my wallet. “I assume you’re trying to make a point and the sale is just a bonus.”
Now she laughed. “Definitely a bonus. What I’m trying to say is that sometimes we need to cater to the masses to make a living. Other times we can have a little subversive fun. If you trust this Evie, you could deliver the message you want and save a whole lot of animals while you’re doing it.”
“I’m not buying her whole ‘educational not sensational’ pitch. You should have seen her smile when the pig was standing over me.”
“Come on, who wouldn’t want to see that?” Teri poured coins into my hand. “Did you take that moment to give a sound bite about pig handling? And make a plug for rescue? From what I recall, Wilma has a sad backstory of being exploited and overbred. What a great opportunity to inform people about things like that.”
“That’s my zombie among the jewels?” I asked. “Not buying it, Teri.”
Escorting me to the door, she handed me a little brown bag. “You already did, my friend. And you’ll smile every time you see it.”
“You said no?” Edna Evans’ expression was inscrutable.
I’d bumped into her about half a block from the grocery store and we fell into step. My octogenarian neighbor usually wore her judgments with as much pride as the rabbit pelt cape draped over her shoulders. Since she became Clover Grove’s official choirmaster at Christmas, however, she’d softened some of her many edges. At least on the surface. It was possible that her coat concealed the practical bulletproof vest of the apocalyptic prepper she really was. Either that or she was packing more than her usual pepper spray in her purse.
“Of course I said no. Can you imagine having a camera crew crawling all over and exposing my every move?” I shook my head. “I’m surprised you had to ask.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t call a team meeting to discuss the pros and cons. We might have had valuable input. I mean the full team, including everyone who’s saved your life at least once.” She held out her gloved hands and started counting. “Some of us don’t have enough fingers.”
I held up two fingers. “Twice, in your case.”
“Directly, maybe. I’ve put my life on the line for you plenty more fingers than that.”
It was true that Edna was always willing to put herself on the line when there was trouble of the murderous kind. Whether she was courageous or crazy was still up for debate. Probably both. Many would say the same of me.
“Okay, but why would you care?” I asked. “You already sit by your window with binoculars guarding your privacy. Like you said only recently, my problems become your problems.”
She shrugged her rabbit pelts. “That was before. Now I’m prepared for anything, as you know. Besides, Evie Springdale has a good head on her shoulders. I trust her judgment.”
“Evie Springdale brought her cat over to the farm when she came to make her pitch. That was good judgment?”
Another shrug of rabbits. “I’m sure she had her reasons. Roberto is a fine cat.”
“She wanted to create conflict, which creates good TV. But her plan backfired. She got the footage and also a hard no.”
“A hard no never helps negotiations,” she said. “You know that. After providing such good fodder, which I enjoyed by the way, you were in the driver’s seat.” Finally she smirked. “That said, your performance in the driver’s seat leaves much to be desired. And that’s why you call on your team to represent you.”
I leaned against a stop sign and crossed my arms. “How exactly did you see what happened? The pig pen isn’t in your sight line.”
“I had a few trees trimmed.”
“You mean a forest. I kept hearing a chainsaw and now I know why.”
“To get a little exercise and keep my friends safe. Win-win.”
Pushing myself off the pole, I continued to the store. “What’s the win for you in my doing a reality show?”
“If it’s educational and not sensational—”
“Oh my goodness! Evie put you up to this, didn’t she?”
“No one manipulates Edna Evans anymore, Ivy. All that changed when—”
“I saved your life,” I interrupted.
She grinned. “I’m still up by a handful of fingers.”
“I repeat… What’s in it for you?”
“I can’t believe I have to explain this to you, the only smart Galloway Girl.”
“That is not true. My sisters are all smart. I’m just the most educated.”
“Dahlia saved her best for last. Like fireworks.” Edna sighed. “I suppose your brother was such a disappointment she had to try one last time.”
“Asher’s a respected cop and Mom’s golden boy,” I said. “Anyway, that’s a red herring. Just cut to the chase, Edna. I’ve got somewhere to be after I pick up Jilly’s bay leaves.”
“Stew?” Edna asked. No matter how many times Jilly made it for her, she never tired of it. “It could use some oregano.”
“Red herring. Spew before stew.”
She sighed. “I shouldn’t have to spell this out for you, Ivy. But if cameras were crawling all over your place, it seems like your animals, your business and your friends would be safer. Then maybe I could get a good night�
�s sleep instead of standing watch.”
Her answer stopped me in my tracks. “Edna. I hope you’re not exhausting yourself. You can’t compromise your own health for mine.”
“That’s what friends do,” she said. “At least that’s what I observe from my role model, Keats.”
Finally I smiled—at her, and then at my amazing dog. “You could do far worse, Edna. Still, there’s got to be a better way. A TV show goes against everything we’re trying to build with the Clover Grove Culture Revival Project. We’re aiming for quaint, not crass.”
She signaled for me to open the door for her and said, “My show choir could use all the press it can get.”
“Aha! There is something in it for you.”
She adjusted her pelts with a flourish so that fur whacked me as she passed. “I’ll pick up the bay leaves and stop by to put in a good word with the chef.”
“Do not turn Jilly against me,” I called after her. “Or Percy either.”
“Enjoy your last lunch without cameras, Ivy,” she called over her shoulder. “You’ll be the most popular gal in town.”
“You said no.” Kellan was the first person to make it a statement, not a question. He was also the first person to sound relieved. At least I’d called one shot right.
He took my coat and hung it on the pegs just inside the door of the Berry Good Café. Then he offered his arm and led me to our favorite booth. We’d only met there twice but our dates were so few and far between that two visits qualified the spot as “our place.”
“Of course I said no. I didn’t consider it for a second.” He waited for me to slide into the booth before taking the seat opposite. When I was with Kellan, the most handsome man in town, either fluttering butterflies or thundering goats filled my chest, depending on how much trouble I was in over intruding on his police investigations. There had been some kind of internal disruption with Kellan in the vicinity since we were teens, except for an unfortunate 10-year hiatus. “But some of my nearest and dearest think I should be inviting cameras into my life.”
“Your mother?” he said. “I could see that would be up her alley.”
“I haven’t spoken to Mom. I keep letting her go to voicemail.” I picked up my napkin and unfolded it. “Word got around with its usual speed. You heard about it from Asher?”
He shook his head. His thick dark hair was adorably unruly from his hat. Mine just got staticky and flat.
“Betty. At the front desk.”
“Bunhead Betty?” My face started to heat up remembering how Bunhead thought I was lying about being Kellan’s girlfriend when I arrived at the police station with two pets and someone’s femur under my arm. She thought I wasn’t good enough for him and I’m sure she wasn’t alone. There were many women in town who’d like to be in my place right now and they didn’t make a secret of it. “How did she find out?” I held up my hand. “Scratch that. How does anyone find out anything in this town?”
He offered me the menu with a smile. “The usual?”
“The usual.” I loved that we had a usual. In fact, we had burgers on most dates. Jilly fed me so well at home that I liked to stick to the slow lane when I was out. “Double fries, please.”
“You can have mine,” he said.
“Oh, I will. I’m a hardworking farmer who needs her carbs.”
His smile lit up the room and my heart. “I like to see a gal with an appetite.”
We both leaned forward and there was a high risk of a public display of affection. Instead, Kellan gave a sharp gasp.
“What?” I worried for a second that my breath was sour.
“Someone nipped my calf, that’s what. Stuck his cold nose up my pant leg and caught just enough skin to— Ow!”
“Keats!” I pushed back the tablecloth and glared at my dog, who was all impish grins. “Stop that.”
He didn’t like being relegated to the basement of our date, but he was lucky to be in here at all. I carried paperwork to prove Keats was a service dog trained to help me through post-traumatic stress disorder. It was all legit. I still suffered from flashbacks from a violent attack when I rescued the pup from the criminal who owned him. No one in town really bought that, unfortunately. Service dogs and anxiety were for city girls. To be fair, I didn’t help my own cause by taking on killers—and winning. These things didn’t add up for people. They didn’t always add up for me, either. But after Keats came into my life, things didn’t need to add up anymore. They were what they were.
Kellan shifted again in his seat. “Honestly. Can’t a man just enjoy a burger with his gal now and then?”
“Keats wants to keep an eye on everything. He’s bored under there.”
“How about a nap, like a normal dog? Wouldn’t that be a nice change for him?”
“Keats doesn’t nap. Sometimes he closes his eyes but I think it’s just to hear better. His ears are always twitching, picking up sounds from the barn. Or another dimension.” I grinned at Kellan. “Helping you keep tabs on this wonderful town of ours.”
“Well, I appreciate that. I need all the help I can get.”
Normally he would dismiss the very idea of needing help from a dog. He must be in a very good mood indeed over my having turned down the opportunity to televise my life.
A young blonde waitress came over and Kellan ordered for us. It was old-fashioned and courtly and I loved it. I had ordered my own meals in some of the finest restaurants in the world and now I was thrilled to have this handsome man order our burgers without even flinching over my double order of fries.
When she was gone, he reached across the table and took my left hand. My right hand was now under the table scratching a pair of ears. Keats loved that so much he might stop the siege below deck.
“It’s been great, hasn’t it?” Kellan asked. “How quiet it’s been lately?”
“So great,” I said. The furry ears jerked out of reach. The dog in the cheap seats disagreed. “We needed a rest from all that excitement.”
“It’s always slower in winter. Too cold for criminals.”
I laughed. “Crime takes winters off in Clover Grove?”
“It pretty much does. I cleaned up a lot of cold cases last year. Hoping to do the same now. Beats going to Florida.”
“Meanwhile I’m planning ahead,” I said. “Charlie and I want to build a second barn and fence off more pastures.”
His smile faded. “Isn’t the ark already full?”
“Overflowing. Crowded livestock are testy livestock. Luckily most like being rotated outside.”
“Business must be a lot better if you’re expanding.”
“Not barn-raising better. Yet. That’s why some people think I should have said yes to Evie. They say it would bring more guests to the inn. But if it means waiting till next year to build, that’s okay with me.”
The waitress came back with our sodas. “Did you hear? Isn’t it exciting?”
“Isn’t what exciting?” Kellan asked.
She was young, barely 20, and didn’t hear the concern in his voice. Keats did. His posture improved immediately under the table and his ears came forward under my fingers. Things were sounding more interesting.
“The TV show,” she said. “We’re all going to get a chance to be on it.”
Kellan released my hand. “What TV show is that”—he checked her name tag—“Jasmine?”
The young woman looked from him to me and back, and then her cheeks flushed. “I thought everyone knew. No one can stop talking about it.”
Kellan’s dark blue eyes shifted to me and I shook my head. “I missed the memo, Jasmine,” he said. “Can you fill me in?”
She was already backing away as she realized that she was not only breaking news to the chief of police, but also bad news. At least to him.
“Some TV people came in here yesterday,” she said. “With cameras.”
By now Jasmine was halfway back to the counter and her hands fluttered as she called, “They asked about Ivy. And her dog. How
often she came in. What she wore. What she ate. What Keats did when she was here.”
The dog poked his head out from under the table and gave an indignant mumble. Maybe he wanted an agent.
“I don’t understand,” Kellan said, as Jasmine disappeared into the kitchen. “I thought you said no to this.”
“I most certainly did.” I pulled out my phone. “If Evie is going ahead without my permission, someone’s going to be in deep manure… and for once it isn’t me.”
I left a voicemail for her just as the burgers arrived in the hands of the manager.
“On the house,” he said. “Just remember us when you’re famous.” Staring down at Keats, who hadn’t retreated yet, he added, “We should get the dog’s photo for the wall.”
Kellan pulled out his credit card. “That would send the wrong message about pets in dining establishments. And I can’t accept your kind offer.”
“Should we take these to go?” I asked, wondering if Kellan was too upset now to enjoy our date.
He shook his head as the manager left. “Not at all. You’re going to need your fries piping hot to get to the bottom of this situation.”
“I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. There’s no way news this big could have missed us.”
“Good point,” he said, trying to smile.
It was so forced that I knew we were now in the market for a new place to call ours.
Chapter Three
I was slip-sliding along Main Street when Evie finally called me back. My boots had terrific treads but staying upright was challenging without full-on cleats these days. Yet if I wore cleats, I slid around inside stores. There was no winning in this town.
“First, not guilty,” Evie said. “I might have been guilty in sleezier political times, but now I’m one of the good guys, remember?”
“I know you are, and I told Kellan that, too. But there’s a TV crew hanging around Clover Grove asking questions about me.” Keats mumbled something at my side. “And about Keats, too. He’s a celebridog.”
