“We hope you understand that this isn’t about Tim,” Calvin said. “It’s about what’s right for Kip.”
“And moving in with you is what’s right for Kip?” I said, my gaze going from Calvin to Tasha. My best friend had the good grace to blush.
“For now, yes,” Calvin said. He was so calm and sincere it was hard to get mad at him.
“Fine,” I said. “You’re a big girl. You know what’s best for your son.”
“I do,” Tasha said. “Thanks for understanding. There’s just one problem.” Tasha held Calvin’s hand and I noticed a reassuring squeeze.
“What?” I asked.
“We can’t take Aubrey.” The pup looked from Tasha to me. It was as if he knew we were talking about him. “Calvin’s apartment complex doesn’t allow pets over thirty pounds. Can Aubrey stay with you until I can save up enough to get our own home with a yard?”
Aubrey reached up and licked Calvin’s hand. The officer rubbed Aubrey’s head and the pup closed his eyes in joy.
I felt sad at the sight of the pup’s delight. Little did he know that Calvin was ditching him. “Of course Aubrey can stay,” I said. Maybe if I kept the dog, Tasha would come to her senses and move back home.
“Good,” Calvin said.
“Thank you,” Tasha said.
“What about Kip?” I asked, my arms still crossed in front of me. “He loves Aubrey. They’re best buddies, aren’t they?”
“I told Kip that Aubrey needed to stay where he was safe and had a yard to run in.”
“And the kid went for that?” Tim asked.
“It took some convincing, but we were finally able to get him to understand it was for the best,” Calvin said. “Part of good pet ownership is putting the pet’s needs first.”
“Plus, we told Kip he could come visit Aubrey any time he wanted, right?” Tasha winced a bit.
“Of course,” I said. “You and Kip are family. The homestead is always open to family.”
“When are you moving out?” Grandma asked.
“Tonight, if possible,” Calvin stated and tightened his fingers around Tasha’s.
“In the snow?” I asked. “Do you have power at your apartment? Can you get through the roads?”
“We have a backup generator,” Calvin said. “I’ve been patrolling all day. The drive won’t be a problem.”
“You seem to be in a bit of a hurry,” Tim said, his eyes at a lazy half-mast. I knew that look. My brother had figured out Calvin was using him to get Tasha to move out.
“It’s been a long time coming,” Tasha said. “I felt so bad imposing on you the last couple of months.”
“You weren’t imposing,” I said. “You paid rent and did chores. I like seeing you every day, and Kip, too.”
“We promised Kip that he could come over to feed and walk Aubrey every day,” Tasha reassured me. “Now is a good time to move. That way Kip and I and Calvin can have the Christmas holiday as a new family.” She looked up at Calvin with adoring eyes. “It’s really for the best.”
“At least let me make you a farewell dinner,” I said and stood to put on my apron and see what I had in the house to cook.
“No need,” Tasha said. “Calvin’s mom filled the kitchen for us before the storm. Plus I have lasagna in the Crock-Pot.”
“Oh.” I tried to keep the disappointment off my face. “So this is it? You’re packed already?”
“Yes,” Tasha said. “Kip’s on the stairs playing his video games.”
“I didn’t hear you pack,” I whined.
“You’ve been working very hard lately and when I saw you were sleeping I didn’t have the heart to wake you. You understand, right?”
I swallowed the emotion in my throat. “Sure.” I hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Remember, you always have a home here.”
She squeezed me tight. “I know, sweetie. This is really for the best.”
I walked them to the door. It was then that I noticed the suitcases waiting by the door. Calvin had pulled up in front of the house and the side doors to his crossover were open, along with the hatchback.
“Come on, Kip.” Tasha reached out and touched her son’s shoulder. Kip pulled away at her touch.
“I’m nearly to the next level.”
“You can finish the level in the car,” Calvin said. His tone was straightforward. “Plus you’ll win a sticker for following instructions immediately.”
“Cool.” Kip moved toward the door.
“Say good-bye to Auntie Toni and Uncle Tim and Grandma Ruth,” Tasha chided him.
Kip stopped and turned toward us, his gaze never leaving the screen of his game. “Bye.”
“See you soon,” I said. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Aubrey.” I held the big pup by his collar. He sat on his haunches as if he knew he was not going with Tasha. His loyalty to me warmed my heart. Here was a creature who was happy to stay with me through thick or thin . . . as long as I had treats, that was. I knew even dogs had limits to their devotion.
“Bye, Aubrey.” Kip stopped long enough to give the dog a hug around the neck then rushed out the door to the waiting car.
“Zip up your coat!” Tasha called after him. She smiled and hugged me again and then she and Calvin picked up the suitcases and left us to stand in the door and wave good-bye.
The car was packed, the doors closed, and Calvin drove off into the darkness of the quiet snow. I closed the door and saw the despair on my brother’s face and the disappointment on Grandma’s. We all knew that this was a last-minute decision. Calvin was a police officer and couldn’t afford to be seen with a suspected murderer.
“I still need a ride to work,” I muttered as I walked to the kitchen to give Aubrey a dog treat so that he wouldn’t feel the loss of his family as much as I did.
“Sam brought you home. Call him to take you back.” Grandma’s eyes sparkled as she sat down at the kitchen table. “Or better yet, call Officer Strickland. Then, while you’re in the car, try to find out what, if anything, they have on your brother. We can’t defend what we don’t know.”
“Like that won’t be weird,” I said. “I might as well call Officer Emry. He’s more likely to tell me things than Officer Strickland.”
“Officer Emry will do,” Grandma said. “If that’s who you want to ride to the bakery with. There’s no accounting for taste.”
I rolled my eyes. “So that’s it now?” I asked. “I’m supposed to call up the police department and get them to drive me to the bakery so that I can spy on the enemy?”
“Just bat your eyes and act helpless,” Grandma Ruth advised. “Either one of them might just let some important information slip.”
“If you can’t do it for me,” Tim said as I handed the dog a gluten-free doggie biscuit I’d been experimenting with, “do it for Baker’s Treat. Because if your own BFF can’t stand to be near me, imagine what your customers will feel.”
I scowled at my brother. “Sometimes you are so mean.”
He shrugged. “Guilty by association, Toni.”
The worst part is I knew he was right.
CHAPTER 22
“Thanks for picking me up and bringing me into work,” I said to Officer Strickland as we sat at the corner of Third Street and Central waiting for the light to turn green.
“Not a problem,” he said smoothly. “I’m glad you called. The power might be back, but the roads are still rough.”
I sat for a moment and tried to figure out how to ask a question. Deciding to try to be subtle, I asked. “So, what happens to all those people stranded on the highway?”
“We pick them up, mark the car, and call a tow truck.”
“But tow trucks aren’t running in the snow, are they?” I played with the handle of my purse and studied his profile.
“No, we advised them to stay
off the roads so that the plows could get their work done. The fewer people on the roads, the better for the plows to come through and move the snow and attack the ice with salt.”
“So what do you do with stranded people? Is there like a Red Cross shelter or something?”
He glanced at me then turned down Central Avenue. “We take them to a central location and have volunteer staff who match them with local hotels, or, if they have family in the area, we connect them. Once they have a place to go, we dedicate a van to take them to their various shelters.”
“Huh, so like hotels and such.”
“Yes.”
I sat silent for a moment. “Do you find that crime goes up when people are in unexpected places or does it go down because of the we’re all in this together feel?”
“Generally people are less likely to make trouble in times of crisis,” he said. “That said, it’s the department’s policy to at least drive by all the hotels and check on the residents. If a storm lasts too long, employees get tired and food becomes scarce and then trouble can brew.”
“What can the police department do about it?”
“We keep an eye on things and bring food donated by the local food pantries. Pretty much we walk through the hotel or motel and answer questions. A lot of times, just having a presence keeps people in line.”
“Wow.” I widened my gaze. “Do you only do that during a crisis?”
“Pretty much.” We stopped at a red light on Central and First Street.
“Do people like to see a police presence at hotels only when there’s a problem?”
“Most of the time we keep our presence to times of crisis. If a hotel is a known magnet for trouble, we usually schedule someone to check on the security once a night.”
“I had no idea,” I said as we sped up and headed toward Main and the back alley of the bakery. “What are some of the places you patrol the most?”
He glanced at me.
I kept my expression innocent. “I have a lot of family who come into town. They can’t all stay at the homestead. I don’t want to put them up in a known trouble spot.”
“Right.” He gave a short nod. “The Super 7 is one, Paulette’s Cabins, usually any one of the places right off the turnpike. People like to stop when they get tired and rest for a short time. So these places see people come and go pretty quickly. That leads to an unstable environment, and some criminal elements take advantage of that.”
“Huh, see, I would have never thought of that. Who pays for you all to patrol the hotels? Is that a taxpayer service or is there like a security package the hotel can pay for?”
Again he glanced at me, suspicious of my motives. My heart raced. I stilled my fingers and smiled at him. “Tasha and I are thinking of turning the homestead into a bed-and-breakfast. What’s a single gal like me going to do with all that space, anyway?”
“I doubt your house is in an area zoned for hotels,” he replied.
“Oh, no, it’s not. I need to get down to the zoning and planning department to see whether or not I can even do it. But I thought since I had you here, you might know.”
He pulled up to the back of the bakery. I wasn’t surprised to see that snow had drifted to a couple of feet high in front of the back door.
Parking, Officer Strickland put his arm over the top of his steering wheel and turned toward me. “Do you need me to check out the store before you enter?”
“Oh, no thanks.” I unbuckled my seat belt. “It looks like we’re the only ones downtown right now, anyway.” I smiled at him. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Not a problem. Call the department anytime,” he said.
I opened my door and climbed out into the sharp, cold night. The breath froze in my nose and the snow crunched under my feet as I turned to the warm interior of the car, my hand on the edge of the door. “Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.” He peered up at me. “As for the answer to your question, the hotels are responsible for their security. Marcus Blackmore runs a team of security guards.”
“Really?” I tilted my head and leaned toward the warm interior. “Are they trained security people or just random hourly workers?”
“A lot of the police force works for him on their off time,” he said. “A first responder’s salary is notoriously low. We pick up extra jobs when we can.”
I winced. “Wow, I’m sorry.”
He laughed and shrugged. “Just remember that the next time you’re voting on a budget increase for the county. We know that you don’t want to raise taxes, but those taxes pay for things like police and firefighters as well as other first responders.”
“I’ll remember,” I said. “Thanks again.” I closed the door and walked through the drifts to the back door of the bakery.
Inside was warm with a blaze of lights on. With the power off there had been no way to tell which lights were on and what were off. The hum of the freezer and refrigerator were music to my ears. I opened the freezer and was happy to see the temperature was still below freezing.
The refrigerator was another story. It was humming overtime in an attempt to cool itself again. I hung up my coat, stuffed my hat and gloves in a pocket, and put on a fresh apron. Then I grabbed a plastic bucket and made a vinegar-and–baking soda cleaning solution. Sliding on my pink rubber gloves, I turned to take a clean dishcloth off the linen pile on the baker’s rack that sat with its back against the fridge and faced the table and chairs.
I used dishcloths instead of sponges because they were easier to keep clean. I’d use the cloth once, then rinse and toss into the laundry. On warm summer days I would hang the linens out in the sunshine. Sunlight was the best way to kill bacteria. In the winter I added bleach to the wash. They didn’t smell as sweet, but they were virus-free.
It took me about an hour to properly clean the refrigerator, but it was completely worth it. It would be months before I’d have an empty icebox again.
I stood back and eyed my appliance with pride. The glass shelves sparkled and the sides gleamed. Suddenly the back door to the bakery opened. Startled, I clutched the bucket in my hands, ready to throw the dirty water—my only defense—in the face of an intruder.
“Wait! Wait!” Meghan held her hands up. “Don’t douse me. I swear I took a shower before I came in.”
I put the bucket down and slumped my shoulders. My heart still raced and my mouth was dry. “Holy goodness, you scared the p out of me.”
“Sorry.” Meghan grimaced. She was dressed in a navy ice-skater coat. Her legs were encased in black leggings and she wore knee-high lace-up steel-toed boots. She had on white knit gloves, a white knit scarf, and a white knit beret with a red-and-green stripe in the front slanted on her pitch-black hair.
Her lovely winged eyebrows had red and green jewels in the piercing. Her cute nose had a nose ring and her ears had studs all the way up and around the outside.
“What are you doing here?” I asked and glanced at the clock as it read midnight.
“If figured you might need some help, since the power was out for almost ten hours.” She took off her gloves, unbuttoned her coat, and revealed a Betty Boop pop art tee shirt and black pleated miniskirt underneath.
Every time I saw her in a new outfit I wished I were nineteen years old again and could wear cool clothes. The sad truth was that I was in my forties. I worked so much that three-quarters of my closet was filled with standards like black slacks and white button-down shirts.
Even if I was young and could afford the cute clothes Meghan wore, I simply didn’t have her dramatic flair. Today she wore thick black eyeliner, mascara, and nude lipstick.
“Wow, you cleaned the fridge?” Meghan peered into the empty appliance. “Cool! What did you do with everything inside?” She glanced around. “You didn’t bake it, did you?”
“No, Sam Greenbaum stopped by and brought me a cool
er. With that, plus the Styrofoam cooler in my office, and a few empty supply boxes, we were able to dig out everything of merit.”
Meghan looked around. “Where are the coolers?”
“We took them to the house. I did a lot of baking there. Which means we’re only a day behind, not days.
“That said, why don’t you start the coffee? I think it’s going to be a long night of baking.”
“Cool,” she said and moved toward the coffeepot.
“How’d you get here?” I asked as I put eggs and milk and butter out to reach room temperature. “Don’t tell me you walked. It’s like minus twenty outside.”
Meghan laughed. “You’re such a mom. And the answer is no. No, I didn’t walk or ride my bike here. My boyfriend, Andre, brought me. He works the snowplows in between classes, so he knew all the roads that were safe to travel.”
“Oh, huh.” I set up for the next two batches of baked goods. “Who exactly is this Andre and why haven’t you mentioned him before?” I asked and put a hand over my heart in a silent apology at the scolding way the words came out. “What I meant was where did you meet? A bar? The roller rink? The bowling alley?”
Meghan laughed and the sound was like tiny bells in the air. “No, nothing so cool as the roller rink or bowling alley. We met in church, actually.”
“In church?” I drew my eyebrows down in confusion. Meghan never talked about her religion, and I realized that I didn’t know that much about her. I mean, I knew that she was young and on her own. I knew that her parents believed that their job was done when the kid turned eighteen and graduated high school. I knew that she was struggling to pay her rent and go to school.
But one look at the piercings and kooky vintage wardrobe along with the pitch-black hair and the wild-colored streaks and the last thing you thought of was small-town churchgoer.
“Yes, I sing in the choir. Andre plays guitar.” She went right to work making coffee.
Now I felt horrible for being so self-involved that I could work with her every day and not know this simple fact. “That’s really awesome,” I said.
“I know, isn’t it?” Meghan said with a dreamy look on her face. I remembered that look. I’d had it once. “Wait, how’d you get here?” she asked, her dark brows pulling together. “It looks like the van hasn’t been driven since the storm started.”
Flourless to Stop Him Page 19
