As Morgan fussed over him, she felt a tiny pang of jealousy. Soon she would have a grandbaby to coddle with none of the accompanying duties.
“Where are the rest of the kids?” Morgan asked.
“At a homeschool enrichment program at Golden Springs Homestead Park. Who’s that?”
Ned carried another bin out of the garage.
“That’s Ned Alafare,” Morgan said, keeping her voice low. “He’s been helping around the shop the past few days.”
Cindy feigned horror. “You mean I’ve been replaced by a teenager?”
“You could never be replaced,” Morgan assured Cindy. “Although Ned is doing his best to try. He’s self-motivated, punctual, and doesn’t shirk from any dirty job.”
“I hear a ‘but’ in your voice,” Cindy said.
“I think Ned’s parents are living at Mineral Springs Park in a van.”
“Part of that invasion of pot heads?” Cindy nodded, an I-told-you-so expression on her pale, freckle-dusted face. “I tried to warn people this was what would happen if Colorado legalized marijuana.”
“Ned seems reluctant to share any information about his family.”
“Well, yeah, if they’re dope-smoking hippies.” Cindy studied Ned, who was showing her two toddlers some of the treasures he’d found in the bins. “I haven’t seen him before. I don’t know that name, Alafare. What’s he doing?”
“Kendall and Allie are watching the shop, so Ned and I are preparing tubs to take to the Denver mineral show.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Cindy said. “To let you know I can go with you for one weekend, if you’re okay with me bringing the baby and a couple of the older kids. My mom will watch three or four at a time, but she can’t handle all six at once. Not for a whole weekend. This being summer and all, Herb can’t take off work to watch them.”
“I’ll pay you the usual hourly rate,” Morgan said, “if that works for you. I can’t pay for the kids, of course.”
“I didn’t know whether I’d be going to the show with you when I made motel reservations, but I went ahead and booked two adjoining rooms just in case, so we’re all set.”
“You already reserved motel rooms?”
Morgan had registered for the show weeks ago, but she hadn’t thought about lodging. Denver surely had a surplus of hotel rooms.
“Oh, yeah,” Cindy said. “You have to book way in advance, or else you’d end up at some pricey hotel a long ways from the coliseum. There were only two rooms left, even back when I made reservations.” She walked toward the bins. “Hey, Ned. I got an easier system.”
Cindy found a stack of old Golden Springs Gazetteer papers in the garage, and spread thick layers of newspaper in the driveway. She emptied the contents of the bins piece by piece. Cindy’s method involved more work, but Morgan could see the sense in it. She sorted like items together, packing each bin with plenty of newspaper, then labeling them with a marker.
Ned worked well with Cindy’s kids, keeping one-and-a-half year-old Jacob distracted while enlisting the help of three-year-old Isaac in a way that made the children feel important.
Was there anything Ned couldn’t handle?
“I haven’t seen you around town,” Cindy said to Ned. “Do you live here?”
“My parents just moved back,” Ned said. “They’d been gone for quite a while.”
“Have you been to Golden Springs before?”
“I used to stay with my grandparents during school breaks, but I haven’t done that for a couple years.”
Morgan knew the next question. Who are your grandparents? But before Cindy could utter the words, Ned jumped to his feet. He studied his wristwatch.
“I’m late. I’ve got to go.”
Ned trotted across the parking lot and out the perpetually open gate.
“That boy’s a little evasive with his answers,” Cindy said.
“I don’t like that he seems to have secrets,” Morgan said.
She told Cindy about the shop door being open, and how the lock on the Triceratops brow horn case had been tampered with, shortly after Ned made his first appearance.
“So that business up the hill hasn’t been the only excitement around here,” Cindy said. “Eustace Day blown to bits, and now attempted burglary.”
“I’m nervous about Ned hanging out at the shop while we’re at the mineral show. What if he’s the one who broke in?”
“Easy solution,” Cindy said. “Take the brow horn with you to the show. It’ll draw people to your booth. Even if it doesn’t sell, the looky loos will maybe buy something else.”
“I hope Kendall and Allie keep an eye on it while I’m in Sioux Falls,” Morgan said. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry,” Cindy said. “I’ll pop in a couple times while you’re gone. Everything will be fine. The only thing you need to think about is that grandbaby.”
* * *
After two hours of sorting and packing bins, Cindy stood and stretched.
“I’ve got to pick up my kids. Their class is almost over.”
Not long after Cindy loaded up her kids and left, the veterinarian drove into the parking lot. Dr. Alvin McCormick had outfitted his van as a mobile animal hospital.
“I’m so glad you could come by,” Morgan said, “Adelaide isn’t herself today.”
When Morgan called her name and shook a can of oats, Adelaide trudged into her stall. Dr. McCormick took the donkey’s vital signs and examined her from nose to tail. The youngest son of World War II bride Teruko, Alvin had his hearty Irish-American father’s red hair and freckles layered over refined Japanese features.
“There’s nothing wrong with Adelaide,” the doctor said. “I think she’s getting close.”
“That’s bad timing. I’m leaving for Sioux Falls in the morning, and I’ll be gone a week.” She patted Adelaide’s head. “I wanted to be here when she has her foal.”
“I wouldn’t stick around waiting for the big event,” Dr. McCormick said. “Donkeys have a knack for dropping their foals when no one’s looking. It could easily be another week, maybe more.”
CHAPTER TEN
Morgan needed to pack for her Sioux Falls trip. Instead, she continued working on the bins. She would not have much time between her return from South Dakota and her trip to the Denver mineral show. Morgan dragged another bin backwards into the carriage house garage, her back and arms aching. She grasped the bin’s molded handles and struggled to lift it. A shadow fell across Morgan, long in the light of the sun lowering behind the mountains. Morgan turned.
“Let me help,” Kendall said.
He lifted the heavy bin with ease, setting it on top of two others. Morgan didn’t remember her brother being strong. He had been a chubby kid, and as an adult, his lifestyle had seemed sedentary. Kendall had lost weight during his jungle adventure. The wiry whiskers of his full beard and his tie-dyed T-shirt made him seem like the same old Kendall, but the mission trip had changed him. Morgan hadn’t even attempted to learn what had happened in Central America. A little pang of guilt stabbed at her.
“You’re leaving tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes.” Morgan dusted her hands off on her jeans. “Kurt is giving me a ride to DIA.”
Kendall started to speak, then stopped. He seemed to compose himself.
“Kurt Willard has been a good friend to you.”
The words seemed reluctant.
“Kurt isn’t the same person you knew,” Morgan said. “Seriously, six months ago he might have campaigned for Piers Townsend instead of running against him.”
“True.” Kendall shrugged. “I suppose I should have the grace to accept that an old adversary has changed.”
Kendall followed Morgan as she stepped outside to retrieve another bin. He grabbed one and added it to the stack along the garage wall.
“I used to enjoy the big mineral shows,” Kendall said. “I’m glad you’re going for us.”
“I’ll do my best.” Morgan began to add that she hoped he would at least open the shop once or twice while she was gone. Her brother was being civil, so she held back critical words.
“Say, it’s getting late,” Kendall said. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”
“Is Allie okay with that?” Morgan asked. “She’s had her hands full lately.”
“It was her idea.”
* * *
It was a strange feeling to be a guest in the home she had occupied for six months. Morgan took a seat at the kitchen table. She already had memories of first introductions, of dinners and teas and calamities, over that table.
At four months, Marissa was adorable, gurgling, and full of promise. Dark hair sprung from her scalp in unruly curlicues, looking a lot like Kendall’s. Whenever her adoptive mother or father came into view, her cheeks dimpled with an ecstatic smile.
Dinner over, Morgan made a move to leave, but Kendall and Allie insisted she stay. They directed Morgan to the reclining chair closest to the wood burning stove. There was no need for a fire on a warm summer evening, but Morgan was still too warm in her jeans and T-shirt. She envied Allie’s sunflower print sundress.
“We’ll be right back,” Allie said.
The soft words of a lullaby filled the home as they both put Marissa to bed. When her brother and sister-in-law returned, they looked like they had serious business in mind.
“We need to apologize for running off the way we did,” Kendall said.
That was not what Morgan expected.
“Then coming back and pushing you out of the living quarters.” Allie shook her head, her blond hair brushing her shoulders. “It was a horrible inconvenience for you.”
And still was. The polite part of Morgan wanted to object, and to insist it had been no trouble at all. The realistic part of her acknowledged that her brother and sister-in-law had turned her life upside down. Not once, but twice. She waited for them to continue.
“Part of the reason we’ve been taking off has been to take Marissa to the pediatrician,” Allie said. “But we’ve also had appointments with a lawyer.”
“Allie,” Kendall cautioned.
“Your sister is entitled to know.” Allie pulled a kitchen chair across the worn linoleum. She sat facing Morgan, but instead of meeting Morgan’s gaze, she smoothed the skirt of the sundress across her lap with exaggerated care. “We had to be sure the adoption was legal.”
Morgan remembered the frantic phone calls from the Central American jungle.
“Is that why you were in a rush to come home?” she asked.
“Yes.” Kendall sank onto the cushioned chair next to Morgan’s recliner. “We were afraid the adoption would fall through. Maybe it was wrong, but we decided to get Marissa out of the country as quickly as possible. God bless the church ladies and their bake sales.”
Beatrice and the church kitchen ladies had raised money for Kendall and Allie’s plane tickets home, not knowing the couple had adopted a daughter.
“Did her parents want her back?” Morgan asked.
“No one ever tried to claim her,” Allie said. “She was abandoned on the steps of the Catholic church. The parish priest knew how much we wanted a family, so he approached us even though we aren’t Catholic.”
“Of course we wanted her,” Kendall said. “We also didn’t want to risk having our hearts broken if the mother or father came forward. The priest put us in contact with a lawyer to draw up adoption papers.”
“When we needed money to finalize the adoption,” Allie began, “well, it seemed strange.”
“The process went really fast once we gave the lawyer the cash,” Kendall said.
Morgan nodded. “I thought that was a lot of money for two plane tickets. For three, even.”
“The lawyer’s fees felt like a bribe,” Kendall said. “We didn’t want to steal Marissa from her rightful family.”
“Until we found a bilingual lawyer in Granite Junction to go over the papers,” Allie said, “we weren’t comfortable about the adoption.”
“My Spanish isn’t good enough to translate legalese,” Kendall explained.
“We’ve seen other families go through international adoptions,” Allie said, “and they can take months. Years.”
“And now?” Morgan asked. “You found out its legal?”
“We should be able to relax,” Kendall said, “but I still feel nervous about it.”
Allie grasped his hand. “In time, we’ll be more confident that she’s really ours.”
Their parenting experience was dramatically different from Morgan’s, when she and Sam had children.
“I don’t have any doubts that Marissa was meant for you,” Morgan said. “I’m so happy for you.”
Her brother was just starting his family. Morgan’s nest had recently emptied, while her daughter was filling her own. The situation brought to mind melancholy old songs about the swift passage of the years. Kendall pushed himself out of the depths of the cushioned chair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together.
“As long as we’re sharing,” he said, “I need to tell you that I’ve been job hunting.”
“Oh?” Morgan tried not to sound excited.
“It’s a tough field,” Allie said. “There aren’t a lot of positions available for lay pastors.”
“I’ve been called back for second interviews,” Kendall said, “but I haven’t received any offers yet. Not having a divinity degree is really hurting me. I might have to go back to college.”
Morgan’s dream of returning to the rock shop living quarters evaporated. College was a multi-year commitment.
“We could have to pick up and move before the end of the summer,” Allie said, “or we could be here semi-permanently.”
Kendall shook his head. “There’s no way of knowing.”
“You’ll at least stick around for the next three weeks?” Morgan asked.
“Yes,” Allie said. “You can count on us.”
“Del and Ned will be helping,” Kendall said.
Ned, the possible spy and thief. Morgan chose her words carefully.
“I have some concerns about Ned.”
“He seems like a good kid,” Kendall said.
“But he’s hiding something,” Morgan said. “His parents are hippies. I think they’re homeless, and living in the park.”
“All the more reason to give Ned encouragement,” Allie said.
“He started working here the day you came home and the shop door was open. Ned practically salivated over the three thousand dollar price tag on the Triceratops brow horn. You saw the scratch marks on the lock. Whoever broke into the shop was trying to steal that fossil.”
“Circumstantial evidence,” Kendall said.
“We’ll keep an eye on Ned,” Allie said. “But I think we need to give him a chance.”
Kendall leaned back in the chair. “I expected you to be more concerned about what happened to Eustace Day than the matter of a door left open. Should we be worried about more drama coming our way from up the hill?”
“Chief Sharp thinks Mr. Day stumbled into his own booby trap,” Morgan said.
“An accident, then.” Allie studied Morgan for a moment. “But I can tell you don’t agree.”
“Kurt, Del, Lorina and I all heard shouting. Voices. And gunshots that sounded like a shoot out, not ammo triggered randomly by a fire or explosion.”
“I heard you and Kurt are investigating,” Kendall said.
“You can count on the Golden Springs gossip grapevine,” Morgan said with a smile. “I’m afraid they got it wrong this time, though. We’re not investigating.”
“What did Miss Day have to say?
” Allie asked.
“Who is that?” Morgan asked.
Allie’s brow furrowed with a frown as she turned to Kendall.
“I gave you the sticky note to give to Morgan. What happened to it?”
“Sticky note?” Kendall slapped a hand to his forehead. “The message.” He pushed himself out of his chair to rummage through a stack of papers by the telephone.
“A customer told me he left a message,” Morgan said.
“This was Eustace Day’s granddaughter,” Allie said. “She wanted to ask you what happened, since you were an eyewitness. Or ear witness, I suppose.”
Morgan shook her head. “I didn’t get the message.”
Kendall raised an arm, waving a small square of blue paper. “Here it is.”
“Roxy Day,” Morgan read. Kendall had scrawled a phone number on the paper, too. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to call her. I know I’d want to talk to someone, if it had been my grandfather.” She tucked the note in her jeans pocket. “I’d better get going. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
Allie hopped up and gave Morgan a hug.
“Give our love to Sarah and Russ, and the new baby.”
“I’m just hoping I get to see the baby this trip,” Morgan said. “Sarah is overdue.”
Kendall opened the door to the shop. They walked through the rock shop to the front door. The cowbell clanged as they went outside. Kendall followed Morgan to her car.
“This was really nice,” Morgan said.
“Hey, it’s about time we stop squabbling like five year-olds,” Kendall said, “and start having an adult relationship.”
“Yes, much better.” Movement in the pasture caught Morgan’s attention. “What was that?”
Houdini grazed in the middle of the pasture. Beyond the donkey, a flash of white darted between rocks and clumps of tall grass.
“Do you see that?” Morgan asked.
“Huh. I thought Allie was seeing things.”
“She’s seen it, too?”
“I accused her of an overly vivid imagination,” Kendall said. “Allie is fond of ghosties and fairies. Her Irish blood, I suppose. She tried to tell me we have a leprechaun on the premises. But that doesn’t look like a leprechaun to me. Where’s its hat? Not to mention its pants.”
Stone Cold Blooded (A Rock Shop Mystery) Page 8
