CHAPTER 21
I slept fitfully that afternoon as the storm worked itself out. All the things I’d brought to the house had been baked. Brad and Tim had moved from the den to the front parlor with the pale blue–and-white settee and sateen curtains. It was such a feminine place for two men to work.
Somewhere along the way Mindy had given up flirting with Brad and gone up to her room. I think it was the quiet that woke me from a dream where my bakery failed and everyone in town laughed and told me they knew I could not be successful with such a silly bakery. I mean, who didn’t eat wheat?
Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes and shook off the terrible dream. I hated to nap, and even worse, I hated the way I felt after a nap—you know, as if taking a nap only made you feel worse.
There was a scraping noise coming from outside. I went to my window, lifted the sheer white curtain, and saw that Tim was outside, shoveling snow and ice off the driveway.
A quick glance at the time told me it was nearly 6:00 P.M. The winter night sky was clear and black. Without a clock it could have been 4:00 A.M.
I stretched and went to the bathroom to wash my face and run a brush through my unruly red hair. Tim was in deep trouble and, while I trusted Brad would do his best, I had come to the conclusion that if I saved Baker’s Treat only to lose my brother I would never be able to live with myself.
Putting on my heavy coat, hat, gloves, and boots, I went out to give Tim a hand. The snow was about eight inches deep and had drifted to about a foot or two in places. The worst part was the layer of ice that crusted everything like the crumb-coat on a cake.
“Hey,” I said and grabbed a shovel from the open garage. “How long have you been out here?”
“What time is it?” he asked and scooped up a block of snow and tossed it to the growing mounds on the side of the driveway.
“Six,” I replied as I dug my shovel halfway into the drift and lifted the snow up and over the side of the drive. It was what some people termed “heart attack snow”—heavy, wet, and difficult to clear. “What time did Brad leave?”
“He left around four,” Tim said, effortlessly lifting and tossing twice as much snow as I could. “I came out shortly after that.”
I looked around and saw that in two hours he’d gotten two-thirds of the way down the driveway. The streetlights were coated in ice and sparkled more than they actually lit the road. The pavement in front of our house was still paved in brick. It was a quaint reminder of the oil boom days, when people built grand Victorian homes and proudly filled them with china and silver and fine linen.
The street was as filled with snow as the drive. Clearly the side streets were not a priority for the snowplows. “How did Brad get out?” I asked, noticing that there weren’t even any tire tracks in the snow.
“He has a Jeep four-by-four,” Tim said. “The snow filled in his tracks.” Tim shoveled up more snow and tossed it. I noticed that he worked up a sweat. His heavy jacket was unzipped and the tee shirt underneath dripped with sweat.
“How are you doing?” I asked and continued to shovel snow until my arms shook with the effort.
Tim shrugged and kept working. “Until we know for sure what evidence the prosecutor has against me, there’s little we can do.”
I stopped with a half-lifted shovel. “So, what, you simply wait?”
“Brad says they have to schedule a hearing in the next week or so. Then we’ll know more about the case.” He stopped and leaned on his shovel, the picture of a man in despair. “When you live alone and work the night shift, there aren’t a lot of ways you can prove you were where you say you were.”
“Isn’t it on the prosecution to have to prove you were where they say you were?”
Tim shook his head. “It’s a small town, sis. People tend to make up their own minds without regard to facts.”
“Is Brad going to ask for your trial to be moved to Sedgwick County? I mean, it seems only fair to try you in an unprejudiced area.”
“Brad said he thought maybe Oiltop wasn’t a bad place for the trial. I’d be close to home and he’d paint me as a local boy, a high school quarterback who led the school to two state championships, blah, blah, blah.”
I tilted my head. “Do you think that will work?”
“Who knows?” He shrugged and went back to shoveling. “High school was a long time ago.”
I left it alone and worked side by side with him until my shoulders ached and my hands were numb. We got the driveway cleared, and the front and back walk. The night sky twinkled with starlight and the Christmas lights I’d had Tim hang around the wraparound porch twinkled and illuminated the white snow. It was as if someone had painted the homestead in white icing. Postcard pretty. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my cell phone, and snapped a couple of pictures.
“You know, I never asked how you are with Harold’s death. I know you two were pretty close growing up.”
“Yeah,” Tim said, his expression grim. “I hadn’t seen him in over a year. Still, it hit me hard. First Dad, then Mom, and now Harold.” He shoveled snow as if his life depended on it. “I went to his funeral.”
“You did?” I asked. I was so busy with the bakery that I hadn’t even paid attention to Harold’s funeral. I felt pretty low right now.
“Yeah,” Tim said quietly. “His cousin Jeff asked me to leave.”
I stopped short. “He did not.”
“Yes, he did.” Tim nodded his head. “So much for losing an old friend.”
“You said you hadn’t seen him in a year,” I said. “What happened?”
“We had a fight,” Tim said as he shoveled. “It was over something stupid. He was all hot over this new business he started. Harold had this surefire investment program he’d bought into. He was looking for a partner.” Tim grimaced. “There was no way I was buying into one of those business schemes you see on late-night TV. Harold got pissed. He said it would look bad to people if his own best friend didn’t invest. I told him I didn’t have the capital, and if I did I wasn’t going to spend it on a ‘surefire’ scheme. Dad taught me better than that. He got pissed and stormed out. We hadn’t talked since.”
I reached out and put my hand on Tim’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
He looked up at the night sky and studied the stars. “Thanks.”
I gave him time to think about his loss before I went back to shoveling. The twinkle lights from the house across the street had me thinking. “It’s so strange to think it’s the holidays,” I said. “I’ve been so busy baking and you’ve been arrested—and now this storm. I’d nearly forgotten that this season is about peace on Earth and goodwill to men.”
“How can you forget when you have 1972-era decorations in the basement year-round?” Tim grinned at me. It seemed he’d gotten most of his frustrations out shoveling the snow and ice. We were both physically and emotionally exhausted. Just as we turned to put the shovels away and go in for warm drinks, the street plow came through and filled the bottom of the driveway with a knee-high drift of snow.
“Oh, now, that was simply mean,” I said as he drove out of sight.
“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night,” Tim muttered. We both turned back, got our shovels, and attacked the drift. It’s funny how at one point of exhaustion you feel warm and relaxed and almost happy. And yet if you have to continue past that point your muscles scream and you are filled with frustration and anger, wanting to rail at the unfairness of it all. The newly plowed drift, my loss of power and work time, and Tim’s terrible arrest was almost too much to bear.
As Tim scooped up the last shovelful and tossed it on the head-high mound of snow I heard a faint whirr of wheels. I noticed an orange triangle waving in the air around the drifts. Grandma Ruth came tearing around the icy road on her Scootaround. She had strapped a flashlight between her handlebars, giving anyone coming at her just enough light to
notice her in the middle of the road.
“Grandma! Get off the road. You are going to get killed. At the bare minimum the snowplows will run you over.”
Grandma zipped around the corner into the driveway and stopped by the back door. She wore goggles and an old-fashioned leather pilot’s flight hat strapped under her chin. Her torso was wrapped in a thick leather coat with lamb’s wool inside. She had on a butterfly patterned skirt, thick striped over-the-knee socks, and heavy combat boots.
“I’m going to have to rig a headlight for her scooter, aren’t I?” Tim muttered as we walked in tandem to the garage to put away the shovels.
“And reflectors,” I added. “The triangle doesn’t work so well in the dark.”
“Hi, kids. Nice work on the driveway.” Grandma slowly swung her hefty body off the seat of the scooter. “No worries, Toni, I won’t drive my scooter into the house . . . just yet. I know how fussy you are about a little snow and salt on your wood floors.”
“Grandma, what are you doing? It must be at best twenty degrees out. You’re going to catch your death of cold.”
“Honey, by now I’ve figured out that death is more worried that I will catch it than I am of it catching me.” She used the rails on either side of the steps to hang on and lurch up them. Grandma had had both knees replaced in the last ten years. She also had a new hip. They worked well enough, considering Grandma had refused to go to physical therapy afterward.
When I’d mention PT, she’d shake her head and tell me she didn’t have time for such silliness. Besides, she got around just fine with her scooter.
Grandma stopped at the top landing and pulled a half-smoked cigarette out of her skirt pocket. Her lighter clicked as she created a flame and lit the remaining bit of tobacco.
“Grandma.” I coughed and waved my hand through her smoke. “It’s a law that you have to be fifteen feet from an entrance to smoke.”
“That’s a public entrance. This is a private residence.” Grandma drew in a deep breath, held it a second then blew a long cloud of smoke straight up. “Bring out a can, will ya? The butt collector is buried under the snow somewhere and I don’t want to pollute.”
“You’re always so thoughtful.” Tim gave Grandma a kiss on her cheek. “Go on, Toni, get the poor woman a butt can.”
I narrowed my eyes at my brother and he laughed. Lucky for me, the mudroom shelves held a wide variety of cans and vases and miscellaneous containers—some empty and some full. I picked the least valuable one and handed it to Grandma.
Tim took his boots off in the mudroom and hung up his coat and hat. I did the same and moved in stocking feet to make a fresh pot of coffee.
“I heard on the police scanner that the power has been restored to Main Street.” Grandma waddled into the kitchen and sat down with a huff and a cloud of smoke.
I grabbed three mugs of coffee and brought them to the table, where Tim and Grandma sat. In my family some of the most important conversations happened over cookies and hot beverages. I put a variety of cookies on a plate along with the fudge and set it on the table.
“You’ve been busy,” Grandma said as she snagged three cookies.
“I’m a day behind on my order list.” I sat down. “I managed to get some of the orders filled here. I need to get back into the bakery and see what survived the power outage.”
“Didn’t that nice boy Sam Greenbaum drive you home this morning?” Grandma asked.
“How do you—never mind.” I sighed. My neighbor Mrs. Dorsky was number one on Grandma Ruth’s senior watch call tree. “Yes, the van was too unstable in the wind.”
“How do you intend to get back to the bakery?” Tim asked as he stretched his long legs out in front of him and absently played with his cup of coffee.
“I suppose you could drive me,” I said. “Or I could take Grandma’s scooter.”
“Hey, keep your mitts off my scooter.” Grandma talked as she chewed the cookie, spitting crumbs all the while giving me the stink eye for even suggesting such a thing.
“The only way I’d drive you there is if I stayed,” Tim said. “Brad advised me to never be alone night or day. I need solid alibis in case the identity thief strikes again.”
“I have a cot in my office,” I said with a shrug.
“Why can’t Brad take her?” Grandma asked.
“Brad has a date,” Tim said. “Our cousin is on the hunt for a new man, and I think she’s set her eyes on Brad.”
Grandma eyed me. “You okay with that?”
“I have to be.” I shrugged. “Brad’s free to date whoever he wants.”
“You don’t sound happy about it,” Grandma pointed out.
“No, I am,” I said truthfully. “If he and Sam find other women to date before I’m ready, then I have to be okay with that. Besides, I have a business to concentrate on.”
“So, Grandma, you can tell me,” Tim said. “What’s up with Mindy? Why is she suddenly back in Oiltop and picking up men?”
Grandma Ruth concentrated on picking up crumbs off her ample breast. “She’s going through a bit of a rough spot. The last thing I need is for you two to reject her.”
“We’re not rejecting her,” I stated.
“We’re curious.” Tim put his arm around my shoulders. “Aren’t we, sis?”
“Curiosity did nothing for the cat,” Grandma said and bit into another cookie. “I can tell you she’ll be here through Christmas, so you’d better have something for her under the tree.”
“Ugh, Christmas.” My shoulders fell along with my mood. “There are only a few days until Christmas and I don’t have half the cookie orders ready.” At this rate I would have to work night and day and perhaps split myself in two so that I could sleep and still get things done.
“Never fear, I got you the coolest present.”
“That’s great,” I muttered. “I haven’t even started shopping for Christmas.”
“So, Grandma, you’re telling us that Mindy came all the way to Kansas for Christmas presents?”
“I hope not, because I don’t have the budget to buy her one,” I said.
“As far as I can tell, Ridgeway is her present.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m glad she’s here. She can decorate the parlor Christmas tree. A tree someone hasn’t purchased yet.” I eyed Grandma. She usually insisted that she get to go and pick out the perfect tree. This time she was quiet on the subject.
“I’ll take her with me to find the perfect tree. Bill’s going to bring his little hatchet and make everything go smoothly. I know Mindy won’t mind letting us cut down the tree. This year we’ll cut down the tree she picks.” Grandma yawned and stretched her arms. “Besides, Tim, you should be happy to have Mindy around. She can be your shadow alibi until we figure out who’s trying to frame you.”
“Yeah, well, I won’t be going anywhere for a while,” Tim stated. “I got a call this afternoon. I’m fired.”
“What?”
“Can they do that?”
“I missed a shift last night. That gave them the excuse they needed to fire me. They don’t want a killer employed with them.”
“Wait,” I said and held out my hand in a stop sign. “This is America. You’re innocent until proven guilty.”
Tim ran a hand through his light brown hair. “I was fired for missing a shift without calling in.”
“How could you call in if you were in jail?” I put my hands on my hips. Tim had been working hard at his job and had finally gotten some seniority. It made me so mad that all his hard work was worthless. A single suspicion and they’d dropped him like a hot potato.
“That’s terrible,” Grandma said and patted Tim on the shoulder. “Too bad your sister didn’t investigate sooner and clear up this entire misunderstanding.”
“Grandma, I am not responsible for Tim losing his job.” I tossed my
hands up in the air. “I’ve been busting my hump trying to keep from losing my job.”
“Oh, pish.” Grandma waved her hand, dismissing my concerns. “I love you, kiddo, but your brother’s life is far more important than a bunch of Christmas cookies.”
“To begin with, my gluten-free cookies might be the only thing that makes a newly diagnosed person feel as if they’re normal. Second, the bakery is my life. Third, I thought it was time to allow the professionals to do their jobs.”
“I get it, Toni.” Tim shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “You’re busy. I’m a screwup.”
I rolled my eyes. Those two could really lay on a guilt trip.
“What’s going on?” Tasha walked into the kitchen with Calvin Bright right behind her. Aubrey followed along at their heels. The puppy loved Calvin and never let him out of sight when Tasha’s date was at the house.
“Tim lost his job,” Grandma said and gave Calvin the evil eye.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Calvin said evenly. “Are you moving back in for good?”
Tim winced. “I’ve been advised to never be alone until the murderer is caught.”
Calvin and Tasha exchanged a look. “I think that’s smart,” Calvin said. “Look, Tasha and I are here to let you know she and Kip are moving into my place.”
“What?” I stood. “Are you sure?”
“It’s sort of sudden, isn’t it?” Grandma asked, her expression one of concern.
“We feel it’s best for Kip,” Tasha said. She looked at my brother. “No offense, Tim, but I can’t have Kip living with a man out on bail.” She then looked at me. “I also can’t have him staying in a place where someone is hiding drugs. I hope you understand.”
“You know we didn’t hide drugs on my mother’s property,” I said, oddly hurt by Tasha’s words.
“I’m not blaming anyone,” Tasha said with her hands up. “I’m thinking about Kip. You know how he takes everything so literally. It’s been hard to explain what’s going on here.”
“That someone is framing Tim?” I asked and crossed my arms in front of me.
Flourless to Stop Him Page 18
