Mindy took the tissues and let me take her wool dress coat off her. I shook the remaining snow off of it and hung it up in the coat closet near the front door. By the time I returned to the kitchen, Mindy sat at the kitchen table, her elbows on the surface and her head in her hands.
“Don’t say anything yet,” I advised when she looked up at me. Her face was red and splotchy, her nose ran and so did her mascara. She hiccupped again. “Let me fix that drink first.”
I pulled out two mugs and poured hot cocoa mix in each cup, then added hot water and a good thumb’s width of amaretto. I finished it off with whipped cream. The drink was far from calorie-free, but there were times when you needed chocolate and alcohol and whipped cream. From the look on Mindy’s face, this was one of those times.
“Here,” I said and placed the drink in front of her. “Be careful—it’s hot.”
“Okay,” she whispered and pushed the stack of used tissues aside to wrap her fingers around the warmth.
I sat down across from her and sipped my drink and waited. It never did any good to rush someone when they were as upset as Mindy was. I had to admit I was a little worried. This was the first time in my entire life I’d seen Mindy cry.
It couldn’t be Brad. She barely knew him. You don’t get this upset about someone you barely know. I quickly deduced it was not the date that had her so worked up. Maybe, just maybe, I’d finally find out why she was here in Oiltop and not back in New York City at her high-powered law firm.
She took a sip of my concoction and sighed. “Yes, this is good. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“I’m surprised you’re still up. Don’t you go into work at the bakery around three or four A.M.?”
“Yes, but I was busy with something and lost track of time.”
“Oh.” She hiccupped again and took a sip of the cocoa, leaving a white whipped cream mustache on her upper lip. What a tragic figure she looked, all red and splotchy with mascara running down her cheeks. I took careful note of this. It was the first and I suspect the only time I’d ever see Mindy look anything but perfect.
“Tell me what’s going on? Surely Brad didn’t hurt you.” I leaned in close and spoke softly, calmly.
“Oh, Toni, my whole life is a mess.” Mindy’s face grew red and her eyes watered. “I’m in deep trouble.”
“What happened?”
“I discovered one of the partners was embezzling from the firm.”
“That’s terrible.” I tilted my head and scrunched my eyebrows. “But how would that ruin your life?”
“You’re not going to like me anymore when I tell you.” She inhaled sharply and held it, then exhaled, and tears rushed down her cheeks in an elegant stream.
Poor Mindy—how could I tell her I didn’t much like her before whatever happened in New York? I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from speaking. We were family, and family loved family unconditionally. The truth was we loved but we didn’t have to like. I had a huge family—fifty-two cousins—I loved them all, but there were many I didn’t like much. It’s simply the way family works.
I kept my mouth shut and patted her hand.
“I did something awful. It was the reason I went out with Brad tonight. I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix things.”
“You couldn’t have done anything so bad that you can’t fix it,” I said.
“I don’t know.” She was resigned. “I broke the law and the trust of the partners.”
“What did you do?” I felt my eyes grow wide and worked hard to keep from pulling my hand away from hers.
“When I confronted the embezzler, he offered to pay for my silence.”
“You said no, right?”
She shook her head, tears welling up. “Well, I did at first, but then he offered me more money than I’d ever seen. I could pay off my student loans and buy a new car and stuff my retirement account and splurge on a couple of pairs of Manolo Blahniks.”
“How much money did he offer you?” I was curious.
“I guess every person has their price.” She hiccupped. “I didn’t think I did until it was offered to me.”
I wasn’t going to ask her again. She either would tell me or she wouldn’t. The amount was a moot point anyway. The real point was if she took the money or not. “Please tell me you didn’t take it.”
“I did,” she whispered and hung her head. “But the moment I did, I realized how dirty I felt, so I demanded that he take it back.”
“Did he?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “But then he laughed and said I could never go to the partners about his crimes because he had proof that I had taken money from him.”
“Wait.” I held her hand. “You gave it back.”
“Right.” She looked up, her gaze pleading with me. “But he said it didn’t matter. The cops would trace the money to my account and then I would be just as guilty as he is.”
“That can’t be right,” I said. “What you did was human. But you didn’t keep it.”
“It’s why I came home,” she said. “I told the big bosses that Grandma Ruth wanted me here for Christmas. But I came to talk to Grandma about it. She is the smartest person I know.”
“You told Grandma?” I took a sip of my cocoa. The amaretto warmed my throat and uncurled the pit in my stomach.
“Yes, she advised me to get a lawyer and then tell the truth.”
“Did Brad tell you to ask for amnesty?”
Mindy looked up. Her large eyes filled with tears. “No, he was not happy with the fact that I took the money.”
“I see.” My mouth was a firm line. I might not like her much, but Mindy was family. The fact that Brad wouldn’t help her brought him down a notch in my esteem.
“No, no.” Mindy took my hand and squeezed. “You misunderstand. Yes, he didn’t like the fact that I took the money, but he understood. He promised to help me. I dug out my bank records, which show the two transfers of funds. Tonight we went over everything I knew, what all I had proof of, and then the bribe. In the morning, Brad has a Skype meeting with me and the partners and the local authorities.”
“So you’re going to tell them everything?”
“Yes,” she said and pulled back. Her shoulders slouched and she hugged herself. “Brad thinks that—depending on New York State law—I may receive a hefty fine and possibly a year in jail but not much more.” She took a deep breath in and out. “I am going to plea bargain. If this were to go to a jury I may come out owing nothing, but then they could also convict me as a felon. The amount of money that went into my account was . . . um . . . quite large.”
“I don’t get it.” I scrunched up my face. “How could they transfer a large sum without the bank telling the IRS? I happen to know that transfers over ten thousand dollars get flagged.”
“My name was put on an overseas account,” she explained. “That account was set to transfer ten thousand dollars a month for the next five years into a charity fund that paid me directly in cash. It would all be under the table—so to speak.”
“Wait, I’m confused,” I said. “If it was supposed to be under the table, then how could he have record of cash transfers to hold over you?”
“I work for some highly educated men whose families have been twisting finances for centuries.”
“Did he show you his proof or simply threaten?” I frowned and sat back.
“Oh, he has proof.” Mindy wrapped her hands around the warm mug in front of her. “Even Brad said it was pretty solid evidence of my wrongdoing. That said, he thinks I have a good shot of having my weakness dismissed as long as I testify in the embezzlement trial.” She looked down at her mug. “Toni, I’m scared.” The last came out a whisper.
I got out of my chair and went over and hugged her. “Don’t worry. Brad is the best lawyer I know. He will help you.”
She leaned her head on my shoulder. “I’m going to lose my job over this. That means no more New York, no more cool apartments and great shopping and wonderful sophisticated parties.” Mindy closed her eyes. “Toni, my life is over.”
I got a chill down my spine at the tone of her voice. “Your life is not over,” I insisted and hugged her tight. “It’s just changing course, okay?”
“That’s what Brad said, too. Why, then, does it feel like it’s over?”
“It’s natural,” I said. “When I divorced Eric and moved back here I felt as if my life was over as well. It was so hard not to simply crawl into bed and throw the covers over my head.”
“You’re different from me,” she said. “You’re strong and resilient.”
“So are you,” I said. “Ask Grandma Ruth to tell you how she felt when her thirty-year marriage was over. It’s a great story.”
Mindy grabbed a tissue from the box I brought in and blew her nose. She took out a second and wiped her eyes. As soon as she did that she looked lovely again, while I look swollen and red for two days after a crying jag.
“Thanks, I feel better.” Mindy drank down the last of her cocoa. “I think, once I come clean with what I know, I’ll feel even better.” She put her elbow on the table and leaned her cheek into her palm. “Brad really is a doll. I’m surprised some smart Oiltop gal hasn’t snatched him up yet.”
“Any idea what you’ll do after this all goes down?” I changed the subject. “I know you have connections in New York. I can’t imagine you’d be happy here in Oiltop.”
Mindy straightened. “Oh, gosh, no. I would never move to this antiquated town. I have a friend with a walk-up in Brooklyn who wants to rent out a room. I’ll stay with her and look for something new. I know my life in the paralegal field is over. No one will hire a paralegal with a felony on her record.”
“You don’t know you’ll be charged with a felony.”
“Oh, I won’t have to be charged,” she said. “My firm is so well known when this goes down I’ll be a felon, and worse, a whistle-blower.”
“What will you do?”
She smiled. “I have a friend who’s a PI. I’m going to see if she’s hiring. I think being a whistle-blower might be an advantage in the private investigator business—that’s my hope, at least. But first I have to get through the scandal.” She stood up. “I’m exhausted. Tomorrow is a big day and I need to look my best. Good night, Toni, and thanks!” She dropped a kiss on my cheek and left the kitchen. Her perfume lingered. She didn’t even think to take her cup to the sink.
I shook my head. Some people can’t see the world past their nose. Mindy was one such person. I got up and took our mugs to the sink and studied my reflection in the window. I really had to wonder, was all the crying and sadness just a show? Mindy seemed to have her plan all worked out—what with Brooklyn and her PI friend. I tended to take people at their word. It had gotten me in trouble so many times that I second-guessed everyone now. I sighed. I didn’t want to be that person—the skeptic, especially when it came to my family.
I rinsed out the cups and put them in the dishwasher.
I picked my list up off the countertop where I’d laid it and went upstairs. Work started in five hours. Then once Meghan arrived, I would take my suspicions about the security company to the police department and Officer Bright. With only two days until Christmas, my sincerest wish was that there would be more than the two pairs of Goldtoe socks I’d bought Tim. With any luck, his freedom would be there are well.
CHAPTER 28
The next morning, the front door bells jangled, letting me know I had a late-morning customer at Baker’s Treat. I pushed through the kitchen door to the shop space to find Sam pouring coffee into his thermos. “Hi,” I said, my heart aflutter. He looked all male in his suede coat, blue jeans, and plaid button-down shirt. The man could make a feed sack look good.
“Hi, Toni,” he said, then took off his Stetson and laid it on the counter. “Thought I’d stop by and see how you are.”
“I’m good,” I said and tried hard not to mess with my hair. Really, a gorgeous male should give a girl notice before he barged into her bakery and took up all the air. “Are you ready for Christmas?”
“I certainly hope so.” He laughed. The happy sound echoed through the bakery. “We’re closing in on it.” He put his thermos on the counter. His gorgeous eyes were bright and filled with excitement. “Are you ready?”
“Oh, I’m never ready.” I laughed at myself. “This year is worse than ever. I’ve been so busy trying to keep the bakery afloat and help with Tim’s investigation that I haven’t had time to do more than pick up a few things online.”
He leaned in close and smelled of spicy cologne and clean man. “What’d you get me?”
It was my turn to laugh. “Oh, that’s easy. For you, a couple of gluten-free cherry tarts.” I raised my right eyebrow. “Those are what you like best in the bakery, right?”
“Almost,” he said and smiled that toothpaste-commercial grin.
“Almost? That’s all you buy unless you’re getting a platter for your grandmother.”
“There is one thing in the bakery I like better than cherry tarts.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“The baker,” Sam said and leaned in close and planted a sweet short kiss on my shocked mouth. “I’m going to this shindig at the country club on New Year’s Eve. I know you had other plans, but I’m still going to ask in case you change your mind. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me? We don’t have to call it a date, if you’re still stuck on the date thing.”
I looked into his sincere gaze and thought, Why not? “Okay,” I said, surprising us both. I shrugged. “I can cancel the other thing pretty easily, plus I think I’m over the no-date thing.”
“Cool.” His eyes deepened in color. “How about before then?”
“Well, okay. Christmas is only a few days away. How about after that?”
His entire face lit with pleasure. I don’t think I’d ever seen his smile turn into such a big, toothy grin. “How about Boxing Day?”
“Boxing Day?”
“It’s what they call the day after Christmas in England.” He leaned his elbow on the top of the glass counter, bringing him in closer. I could smell his cologne mixed with the scent of warm male skin and leather.
“I think I have to work,” I said as my mind went blank. “I mean, I usually have to work. I mean . . . okay.”
“Good,” he said. “Do you ice-skate?”
“What? No . . . Do people ice-skate in Kansas? I mean, people ice-skate in Chicago, but I don’t remember ever ice-skating in Kansas.”
His eyes twinkled. “There’s an indoor rink in Wichita. We’ll go, rent some skates. It’ll be fun.”
“As long as I don’t break anything.”
“No worries, I’ll be there to catch you when you fall.” He winked and the heat of embarrassment rushed up my cheeks.
I fanned myself. “I’ll bring extra padding.”
“What, you don’t trust me to catch you?” He leaned back, offended.
“Oh, I think you’ll catch me, but I’m not a small girl. If I go down you’ll go down. At least one of us should have extra padding on when that happens so they can drive the other home.”
He laughed. The rich tone of it echoed through the bakery. Then he grabbed his bag of treats and his thermos. “It’s a date and a date.” He winked again. “Can’t wait.”
“Me neither.” I watched him put on his hat and walk out into the soft gray of winter sunrise. He was a gorgeous man in a Stetson. My heart beat rapidly. I had a date. I hadn’t had an actual date in five, or was it ten years? I counted the years I’d dated Eric and added our marriage to the toll and realized it had been twelve years since I had last dated. Talk about rusty—I wasn’t sure what people did when dating th
ese days.
The door bells jangled and I looked up to see Lance Webb coming in with his hat in his hand. “Good morning, Toni. How are you?”
“I’m good,” I said with a nod. “What can I do for you?”
“I came for coffee and to see you.” His big hands played with the brim of his hat.
“Oh, okay. The coffee’s fresh; I just replaced it. Did you want it to go?”
“Yes,” he said. “Oh, I brought my thermos.” He pulled the silver thermos out of his coat pocket.
“Great, why don’t you pour the coffee. If you want, I can wrap up a bear claw.”
“Um, okay—do they taste real?”
“I’ve been told they are good by people who don’t eat exclusively gluten-free.”
“Okay, then yes, thanks.” He poured coffee as I grabbed a baking tissue and pulled two bear claws out of the counter and put them inside a pink-striped bag we used on the smaller orders.
I set the bag on the counter as he stepped up. “That’s five dollars,” I said.
“Great.” He pulled a bill out of his wallet.
“I’m also collecting money for the food bank.” I pointed to the small jar on the top of the counter next to the cash register. “I’m using it to purchase gluten-free essentials. It’s not something people think about, but people who are homeless or out of work can have celiac or a gluten sensitivity. What can they eat out of a food bank?”
“Not much, I’d guess.” He handed me the cash and then reached into his wallet and pulled out a second five-dollar bill and stuffed it in the jar.
“Thanks,” I said and sent him a warm smile. “It’s kind of a big deal to me. When one out of every one hundred people needs to eat gluten-free due to celiac, you have to remember special needs when you give to food banks.”
“One out of every one hundred?” He picked up his paper bag. “That seems inflated. I mean, you’re in the breadbasket of America.”
“I know, right? It’s a tough issue for farmers and families.”
Lance studied me.
“What?” I asked and wiped at my face in case I had frosting on it, or chocolate.
Flourless to Stop Him Page 24
