“I don’t like to lie,” Tasha said calmly, picked up a juice box, and sipped out of the corner of her mouth. Not that much went in because her mouth was as bad as mine. We were quite a sight.
“Can I ask one question?” I rested my head back on my pillow.
“Sure.”
“What did you hit him with? I mean, I slammed that pan into him and it barely made a difference.”
Tasha’s blue eyes twinkled in her black-and-blue face. “I remembered Kip’s baseball bat was still sitting in the living room from his last game. You know, sometimes it pays not to do too much housework.”
We both tried to chuckle but it hurt too much.
• • •
The next morning we were allowed to shower. I washed blood and guck out of my hair, but the sample bottles of shampoo and conditioner did little to save the frizz. My hair and I had an understanding. I’d let it do what it wanted and it wouldn’t go too ballistic. Tasha’s mom brought us fresh clothes. Getting dressed was a trick with sore ribs and so many bruises that I looked more black-and-blue than white. Why did redheads have to have such transparent skin? I decided against a bra and put on a button-up shirt and slipped on a skirt.
I knew it was chilly out so I took a cue from Grandma Ruth and added knee socks to the outfit and put my feet in slippers. My reflection in the mirror was not much better after the shower, but I shrugged it off. It wasn’t like I was trying to make a fashion statement.
We were released around noon with strict orders to rest, to which I rolled my eyes. It might be the weekend but Tasha and I had lives. Besides, my bed was gone, and I couldn’t imagine where I was going to be resting. Tim picked me up and drove me home. He helped me up the stairs when I refused to take the ramp. Someone had put carved pumpkins out on the porch.
“Did you decorate?” I asked Tim.
He shrugged and opened the door.
“Surprise!” My family crowded the foyer. My cousin Lucy was there with three of her girls. Grandma Ruth and Bill sat in the fancy wing chairs in the parlor as Tim settled me down on the pale blue settee, which someone had made up with sheets and blankets so that I could be near everyone.
My sister Joan had come down from Kansas City for the day with her five kids. Jennifer and Emma still had fresh scabs from chicken pox. “I promise the doctor told me they were no longer contagious,” she said as she leaned in to give me a kiss.
Rosa came in from Wichita with four of her little ones. “Sheila Thompson wants the entire scoop. Don’t leave anything out.”
“Leave her alone,” my brother Richard said. His wife, Phyllis, had come down with him to see if I needed anything.
“Eleanor called earlier,” Rosa informed me. “I told her you weren’t home yet. She wants to come down to see you as soon as she can figure out what to do with the kids for a few days.”
“She doesn’t have to come,” I protested.
“Of course she does,” Richard said. “She’s your sister.”
It made my head pound. But the house was full of talking and laughter and ribbing. I think the guys had a poker game going in the den. It was a regular Keene family palooza. The doctors would never have released me from the hospital if they had seen this gathering. Rest wasn’t possible when the Keene circus was in town.
Lucy had filled the dining room table with food and stacked plates and dishes like a buffet. The house smelled of spice and ham and pies. All kinds of things I couldn’t eat.
“I made you some GF pudding,” Lucy said as she brought me a cup of lukewarm tea and a straw. “There’s vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, and tapioca. I put in the raisins. I think you can eat them.”
“Ew, fisheyes and flies,” Joan’s son Nicholas commented as he ran through the room.
“You be nice, boy, or I’ll make you eat that for breakfast,” Lucy called after him.
“Stop making me smile,” I protested. “All I can do is drool.”
She handed me a soft linen handkerchief and patted me on my shoulder. I tried not to wince. She was being good to me. “You’ve got visitors coming. I’ll go get a wide-toothed comb and help you with your hair.”
“Thanks.”
Grandma Ruth hobbled over with her cane. She made a motion and Bill got up and pulled her winged-back chair over to the couch so Grandma could sit down. He placed his hand on her shoulder and she patted it. “See what a good man can do for you, kiddo?”
Bill beamed. I tried not to roll my eyes.
“She’s a businesswoman, Grandma Ruth,” Rosa piped up. “Leave her alone.”
“I had eight kids and twenty-four grandkids at her age,” Grandma shouted back. “Nothing better to leave to this world than your children and their children.”
“Grandma . . .” I managed to get out.
“Tell me how it went down.” Grandma Ruth leaned in close, her rectangular face intent. “How’d he get in? What did he do? How did you know he killed Ed?”
The whole room went still. I looked around as everyone leaned in to hear the story. I sipped the tea through the straw, dabbed my mouth, and set it aside. Then I told the tale of Craig Kennedy while Lucy tried to make some sort of sense out of my unruly hair.
I might have embellished a bit on the telling, but not much. Besides, my family likes a good story and embellishments were expected.
“So you see Grandma Ruth,” I said, “dating really is overrated.” I leaned back against the pillow and closed my eyes a moment.
“It’s too bad you feel that way.”
I opened my eyes to see Sam leaning against the door frame. With his Stetson in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in another, he looked like every woman’s cowboy dream. My heart might have fluttered a bit.
Grandma Ruth got up. “Don’t listen to her,” she boomed. “She’s on pain meds. She’ll come ’round once she heals. Come on, Bill,” Grandma said. “I need a smoke.”
“Are you writing the story for the paper?” I called after her.
She looked over her shoulder and grinned. “My family, my exclusive.”
And with those words, everything in my world felt right again. “Come on in, Sam.” I waved him over to the chair. “Everyone, this is Sam Greenbaum, rancher and owner of Handyman. He’s a friend. Sam, this is my family . . . part of it, anyway.”
I watched as my sisters introduced themselves. Sam shook their hands and took Grandma’s chair.
“These are for you.” He handed me the flowers.
“Thanks, they’re lovely.” I buried my nose in the fragrance. I love the smell of flower-shop flowers. “I hear there’s a ton of food in the dining room,” I said. “And the men are in the den playing poker. Feel free to go on in and take their money.”
He sent me a crooked grin and my blood tingled. “I came to see you.”
Rosa got up and took the flowers. “I’ll put these in water.”
“Thanks.” I waited a moment for her to leave. “This is not my finest look.” I hated the idea of how puffy and ugly I was at the moment. At least my Grandma Ruth outfit was covered with blankets. Still, I figured if a man could look me in the eye the way I looked at that moment and still come back, then he might be worth dating.
“You look fine,” he said. “I’d say you’re beautiful in my eyes, but that sounds corny.”
I could feel a blush rising and wondered what the heck color I was with a blush and bruises. “Yes, that was corny.”
“I’d like to say you should have let me watch over you, but I think that would piss you off.”
“Darn right it would.” I bristled and adjusted my shoulders, which hurt. I wanted to bite my tongue to keep from groaning. But my tongue was still a bit swollen.
“I won’t say it, then.” He kept staring at me until I looked down at his fingers caressing the edge of his hat.
“Good.” I looked back at his handsome face.
He studied his hat a moment. “What does the chief say?”
“He says it’s over. They got Craig on tape
saying he killed Ed for Tasha. They also found evidence it was Craig who trashed my home and ruined my bed.”
“What about George?”
I shrugged and winced. Darn it, when was I going to not hurt?
“Here.” Joan handed me a pain pill and a glass of water with a straw.
I downed it and the water as best I could and then wiped the drool from my rubbery chin. I guess since Sam didn’t make some lame excuse to leave the room, he must be serious about liking me. I rested my head back on the pillow. “The chief says Craig swears he didn’t kill George. The lab is still going through all the bank bags. If one was used to murder George, then they’ll have Craig for that as well.”
“You have another visitor,” Rosa said as she carried in Sam’s flowers, perfectly arranged and placed in one of my mother’s glass vases. She set it on the table as Meghan came into the room. Today she wore her black hair down. Her sixties-girl makeup framed her lovely eyes and bright red lipstick accented her pierced lip. Deftly groomed brows showed off her eyebrow piercing.
“Hi, Boss.” She smiled shyly. She wore a vest over a tee shirt, black jeans, and thick-soled black boots.
“Meghan, hi, thanks for stopping by. Everyone, this is my new assistant, Meghan. She’s been with me a week and has been great.”
“I wouldn’t say great.” Meghan stepped into the center of the room. “But I haven’t burned anything yet.”
“Meghan, this is my family and obviously you already know Sam.”
“Hey.” Meghan gave a short wave and then took the second chair near the settee. “I heard you got beat up pretty bad.” Her eyes widened and she put her hand to her mouth. “I mean . . . you look better than people were sayin’.” She shook her head and tried again. “I mean, you look good.” She clamped her mouth shut. Her piercings glittered in the afternoon light.
“Thanks. I would smile but my face won’t move.”
“I’ll get some ice for that,” Rosa said as she passed through, chasing after her son who had a plate full of food and was running through the house.
Having grown up in such a big family, the noise and bustle didn’t bother me. I watched Sam closely. He seemed relaxed and kicked his legs out in front of him. Meghan acted a bit uncomfortable, though.
“So—” we both said at the same time.
“Go ahead.” She waved at me.
“You owe me a Coke,” I teased her. “Listen, I plan on opening the bakery as usual Monday.”
“What?”
“Really?”
“No.”
Everyone talked at once. I raised my hand palm up and waited for the protests to stop. “Yes, really. Tim can take me in to work and can be my delivery boy for the next week. After that, the doctor assures me I will be fine and able to drive again.”
People opened their mouths to speak and I raised my hand again. “And, if Meghan wants to work some extra hours, she can work my schedule and see that if I get tired the shop is manned.” That seemed to shut most of them up. “Meghan, do you have time to work the extra hours this week?”
“Are you kidding?” Her eyes twinkled. “That would be awesome. If I want to learn the business, I always knew I needed to be there as long as you.”
“It’s only for a week, but it will give you a taste of what it’s like to run the place.”
“Thanks!” She got up. “I’d better go. I’ve got some things to take care of. What time will you be there?”
“I’ll be at the back of the shop at four A.M.”
“Cool.” She reached out and squeezed my hand. “I promise to be as big a help as I can.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Meghan pushed through the crowded parlor, then stopped for a second and turned to me. “I have to ask: Did you really think Uncle Sam was the killer and I was spying for him?”
Everyone looked at me; you could have heard a pin drop. “Maybe.” I shrugged. “For a moment.”
Meghan’s eyes lit up and her smile widened. “That’s so cool. Me, a spy. Ha!” She left the house.
“She really is a nice girl.” I rested my gaze on Sam and pretended not to be embarrassed by my earlier suspicions. “Thank you again for sending her my way.”
“It was my pleasure. Listen, I’ve got to go, but I can check in on you later.”
“I’m good,” I said as he leaned down and brushed a featherlight kiss on the one spot on my face that wasn’t swollen. My guess was he’d been sitting there the whole time trying to figure out where to plant one that wouldn’t hurt.
“I’ll be back. You take care now.” He said his good-byes to my family and left.
“Knock, knock.” Todd Woles stepped into the doorway. “Sam Greenbaum said I should just come on in. Oh my God, honey, your lovely face!” He rushed over and fluttered over me. “That bastard.”
I noticed he had roses in his hand. “Are those for me?”
“Oh, yes, I thought you would need something to cheer you.” He handed them to me. “Now that I see you, I know you need something.”
“I’m fine, really.” I enjoyed the fragrance of his orange and yellow roses. “You should see the other guy.”
Todd sat down in the wing chair and tugged his waistcoat into place. Yes, the man had dressed to the nines just to come see me. “I certainly hope you kicked his ass.”
“We did.” I put the roses on my lap. “You look dapper.”
“Do you think so?” He brushed imaginary lint off his slacks.
“You always dress better than anyone else I’ve ever known.”
“Well, I do run a men’s clothing store.” His eyes twinkled at me. “Phil wanted to come but he had a last-minute gig. He sings, you know.”
“Really? Professionally?”
“You should check out his website.”
“I will.”
He leaned over and took my hand and squeezed it. “I wanted you to know I appreciated your coffee invite. Even if it was because you thought I might have killed George.”
I felt the heat of a blush. “Yeah, about that . . .”
“No worries.” He patted. “You were simply trying to solve a mystery. I would have done the same.”
“If it makes any difference, I never really thought it was you.”
He straightened and his eyes smiled. “I know.”
“Can I ask?”
“What?”
“Is it hard being different and a successful business owner in Oiltop?” I tilted my head and studied him.
He smiled warmly. “Honey, we’ll talk when you feel better.” He patted my hand.
“Did you ever get threat letters?”
He frowned. “You’ve gotten threat letters?”
“Chief Blaylock says he’s pretty sure it was George sending them. But I wondered if you had ever gotten them.”
He paused, his dark eyes misty. “We’ll talk when you feel better. Okay?”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath, suddenly very tired. “Thanks for coming by. I hope we can be friends.”
“Oh, honey, we’re already friends.” He picked up the flowers. “I’ll make sure these get in water. You rest.”
My eyes were tired and my lids heavy. I decided it couldn’t hurt to rest them a moment.
When I woke up, the house was quiet. A single lamp was lit in the far corner. Brad sat in a wing-backed chair and was reading something that might have been legal briefs. I must have made a sound because he looked up. “Hello.” He tucked his reading glasses away. His handsome face held concern and the right touch of horror at my appearance so I knew he wasn’t faking it. “Can I get you something?”
“Water would be great.” I tried to sit up but felt like I’d been hit by a truck. I put my head back down on the pillow. He brought me a glass with a straw in it. I grabbed the napkin and sipped the water then dabbed at my mouth. There was pain there, too, which meant I was healing. “Where is everyone?”
“Tim is upstairs sleeping. I guess it’s his day off from work. Richard an
d your sisters left. Lucy put the food in the fridge and told me which puddings were good for you. Do you want something to eat?”
“How long have you been here?”
“About two hours.” He put his hand on my hand to stop my protest. “It’s all right, I’ve been working on some briefs.”
“Where did the day go?”
“I imagine it went down the pain pill rabbit hole.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you hungry? Do you want anything?”
“I’m good.”
“I brought you flowers.” His tone was sheepish and I opened my eyes to see that he pointed to another large, lovely bouquet. “Looks like I’m not the only one. Let me guess, Sam Greenbaum.”
“I’m—”
“I know, I know, not dating.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. “You’ll let me know when you’re ready, right?”
“After my run-in with Craig last night, I may never be ready,” I muttered. “He thought he owned Tasha simply because she’d dated him for two months. You should have seen the anger in his eyes.”
“Those were his eyes, Toni,” Brad said, his tone soft and sad. “Not mine, and I wager not Sam’s either.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I do.” Silence echoed through the room. It was awkward and I thought I’d fill it. “What do we do now, oh, lawyer of mine? Do we sue Craig for battery and mental abuse?”
Brad’s electric-blue eyes shone and his mouth curved up on one side. “Let’s let the prosecutor take his shot before we think about civil charges. Okay?”
“Darn, does this mean it’ll be years before I get my millions?” I asked tongue in cheek.
“Sorry to say it, but yes, it’ll be years.”
“Too bad.” I sighed in a long and dramatic fashion. “It would have been fun being a millionaire. I could go to Cabo and lounge about on the beach with cabana boys.”
“I like it better when you’re here.” He sat back. “And I don’t fancy being a cabana boy anytime soon.”
“What? If I were a millionaire I could get my face repaired and take us both to the beach.”
He leaned over and brushed my cheek. “I wouldn’t do a thing to your face.”
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