She continued. “Mom had her sights set on Mr. Childs. He runs the bakery down town. Mom’s sweet on him.” She smiled broadly at her own pun.
“I’ve never met your mother.” I thought if I focused on her mom, Sara would change the subject.
We moved up.
“I’ll have to introduce you sometime. She’s already left or I would today. After she won her date with Mr. Childs, she rushed off to spruce up and left me to pay.”
Our turn came up. I motioned for Sara to step forward, which thankfully she did. After Sara paid for her mother’s items, Mr. Childs came forward, and Sara moved off to the side to make arrangements with him to meet her mother. I breathed a sigh of relief.
I wrote out my check as fast as I could and then waited semi-patiently for my receipt and items. My main goal was to get out of there without further embarrassing myself.
“Thank you for being so supportive.” The woman said, with a knowing twinkle in her eye, as she handed me the much-awaited receipt.
I muttered the words, “You’re welcome.”
I’d almost made it to the exit door when I heard a voice calling. “Hey, don’t forget me.”
Teenagers lobbying the entrance laughed and pointed behind me.
I turned and groaned.
Brandon raced down the hallway, his jacket flying open behind him. I remembered he’d mentioned that he enjoyed jogging and wondered how he’d feel to have to jog all the way to my car? Before I could turn again to leave, he’d stopped several feet away from me. A gleam flickered in his shinning eyes. “What time should I pick you up?”
“You don’t. It was an accident that I bid on you.”
“Ohhhhh,” came the calls of the teenagers.
What did they think this was? A sporting event? The way they had ohhhhed, you would think I just sucker punched the good professor. To escape the kids, I pushed the door open and became promptly blinded by sunshine.
He followed close on my heels. “Accident or not, we have a date.”
I stopped so fast he ran into me. The box of auction items and my purse flew from my arms and I lunged forward to catch them. They hit the sidewalk with a loud bang. His arms encircled my waist, and he pulled me to him fast and hard. The air left my lungs. How he’d managed to spin me around in the process of catching me, I’ll never know. I found myself looking up into his concerned eyes.
The students had followed after us and were now whistling and making some grunting noises that sounded much like a dog’s bark. Heat hit my cheeks and neck. I attempted to pull out of his grasp.
He refused to release me but asked in a low voice. “Are you okay?”
Again I pushed against his chest. “No, I’m not okay. Let me go. Haven’t you embarrassed me enough for one day?”
His arms slid to his side. For a brief moment, his eyes looked sadly into mine. Had I hurt his feelings? The laughs from the growing crowd pushed all those thoughts from my mind.
“Here, Mrs. Parker.” One of the cheerleaders held my things out to me.
I offered a quick thanks and then hurried to my car. Tears filled my eyes. How had I let this happen? With the box of things in my hands, I couldn’t get the door to the car open. Frustration built in me. I wanted to scream and cry at the same time.
“Let me help.”
His warm voice washed over me like honey on hot bread. How come he had that effect on me? I hated and loved it at the same time.
He took the box from my arms and watched while I dug in my purse for the keys. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
As I opened the car, I asked myself, what had he really done? The answer was clear. Nothing. I sighed, the weight of the world seemed to be on my shoulders. “I know, and I’m sorry, too.”
I unlatched the back door where he deposited the box. Then he turned and left before I could thank him. I watched him jog back across the parking lot and dash inside the school.
Feeling like a heel, I drove straight home. This day had been a disaster. I never should have gone to the auction. Correction, I never should have answered the phone.
It wasn’t a total loss, I told myself when I got home and pulled out the box of won items. Megan was going to love her antique chest.
Sprocket barked at me.
“I’ll be right back.” I told him.
Ten minutes later, I had changed clothes and put away Megan’s chest. I made my way outside—with his new teddy bear under my arm. I gave him the stuffed animal, which he sniffed at, and then quickly took to his dog house. A few seconds later, he returned, and I clipped Sprocket’s leash on him. We headed in the opposite direction this time.
I like to shake things up. They say when you go a different way on your walk you notice more. Don’t ask me who “they” are; I read it in a magazine.
I wondered what Mitzi would have said if I’d been able to tell her about today’s events. She probably would have laughed so hard she’d have wet her pants. When we turned forty, she started doing that a lot when she’d get tickled.
So far, all I’d managed to do while retracing Mitzi’s steps was find a handsome man and embarrass myself with him. I had to ask myself if I should continue with this quest. So far, I’d gotten nowhere finding Mitzi’s killer.
I’d planned on attending her church tomorrow morning. Doubts rose as to whether that was such a good idea or not. Then I remembered the first cheerleader at the auction. What is her name? Carrie? Maybe. She attends my church. I groaned. By the time services let out, everyone would know that I had bought one very handsome college professor.
I refused to believe I was going to Mitzi’s church to avoid my own church family. Really, I’m not. I’m going to see if I can get a lead on who killed my best friend.
Sure you are. It’s comments like that, that make me wish I could shut off that inner voice.
Okay that was part of it, but I still want to know who killed Mitzi and why.
Sprocket pulled me along as my thoughts moved in the direction of planning to attend Mitzi’s church. I’d need to look in the phone book and see if the times were listed for the services. Then, I’d lay something out to wear before making meatloaf for dinner.
Happy to have those plans in place, I looked about the neighborhood. Summer was slowly turning to fall. The late afternoon sun didn’t feel as hot as it had in the last few days. My gaze moved to the trees. Oak and Cedar lined the streets. The oaks were showing slight signs of color change. This lifted my spirits as autumn is my favorite time of the year.
Back at the house, I turned Sprocket loose in the front yard. He sat at my feet and looked up at me with those big brown eyes. I was sure it was his way of telling me I hadn’t paid any attention to him on our walk.
I knelt and rubbed him behind his shaggy ears. His head moved into the palm of my hand, and his tongue snaked out for a kiss on the arm. Dogs are wonderful for those of us living alone. They give us love and affection even after they’ve been ignored.
“How about a game of ball?” I asked, giving his head a final pat and pushing myself upwards. My knees creaked.
Sprocket took off like a shot. He ran the fence line looking for the old yellow tennis ball that he loved to fetch for me. His tail went up into the air, and he gave a happy yelp as he scooped up the toy and returned to my side.
I took the ball and gave it a toss. He returned it with much wagging of the tail. Dropping it at my feet, Sprocket turned to see where I would throw it next.
The sound of a pickup pulling into my driveway drew our attention. Sprocket gave a sharp bark.
Brandon Harvest waved and got out.
I thought I’d escaped him for the day. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy his company. It’s just that having him around causes me to behave, strangely, badly, and embarrassingly.
He came around the vehicle and stood beside the fence, gazing over it at us. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping by, but I wanted to give this back to you. In my defense, I did try to call.”
I recognized the check he held out. It was the one I’d written to the school. What was he doing with it?
As if he could read my thoughts, Brandon leaned against the rails. “I paid the school the money you bid for me. In all good conscience I wouldn’t let you pay for a date with me, that you didn’t want to take.”
I folded the check. “I see. You were willing earlier today to let me bid and win you for a date. What changed?”
“Nothing. I had full plans of paying for the price of a date with me. So in a way it worked out. Only now, you’ve made it very plain you don’t want to date me. Good day, Claire.” He pushed away from the fence and walked slowly back to the pickup.
I wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say. If I said, oh I do want to date you...would he think I was a desperate woman? Probably.
Brandon rolled down the window on the passenger’s side. “We’re still friends. Right?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“Good, I’ll see you Monday then.” He backed out of the drive.
Sprocket nudged me with his wet nose. I looked down into the big brown eyes. If only dogs could talk, I was sure he’d ask me what was wrong. I rubbed his ears and headed into the house.
****
Sunday morning dawned overcast and stormy. I dressed, in my best navy blue dress with matching shoes, had two cups of coffee, and Crunch cereal. Now all I had to do was get in my car and go to Mitzi’s church. Not mine. Mitzi’s.
I felt guilty. We didn’t attend services together, and now that she was gone, I was going to her place of worship. I opened the trunk of my car and pulled out an umbrella–the one Mitzi gave me a few years ago. It features kittens dancing in the rain. I love it.
Rain splashed against the windshield. I pulled into the parking lot of the church and sat for several minutes praying the downpour would lighten up so I could dash inside.
The church wasn’t very big. It reminded me of the country churches you see in paintings. This one sits on the outskirts of town and is very soothing to the senses. Even in the rain, it looked inviting.
At this rate, I would spend the whole service in my car. I opened the door and got the umbrella up and over my head but not without getting wet. I yanked my bible from the passenger seat, thankful I’d invested in a nice cover, and tucked it against my chest. I hitched my purse over my shoulder, and then I ran for the entrance.
The wind caught my umbrella, the mud grabbed my shoes, and suddenly I was looking up at raindrops as they fell from the sky. I should have stayed home.
“Here let me help you up.” The door greeter must have seen me go down because now he stood over me holding out a hand. I could only pray my dress wasn’t up over my thighs. That just isn’t ladylike.
Heat filled my cheeks as he pulled me up. The umbrella lay at my feet, and I still clutched the Bible to my chest. I picked up my once beautiful umbrella.
“Come on in. We’ll have one of the ladies assist you.”
He was already pulling me inside. By the time I got my bearings, I was standing in the entryway, dripping on beautiful hardwood floors. A woman stood watching me with concern in her eyes. “I think I’d like to go home.” I turned to go back out the door.
“Nonsense, you’re already here. I’ll help you dry off, and you’ll be as good as new. I’m Lori Haywood.”
I looked into the kindest grey eyes I’d ever seen. Lori smiled and gently took my arm and led me into a small room off the sanctuary.
What could I do? I was already inside, and to go back out in sopping wet clothes wasn’t something I looked forward to. I sighed. “I’m Claire Parker.”
“Ms. Parker, this is the room right off the baptistery. I think we’ll be able to find you some fresh clothes in here.” She was already digging in a closet.
The thought of wearing borrowed clothes bothered me, but so did the thought of driving home and sitting in mud and water as I did so. “I really don’t mean to be so much bother.”
“You’re no trouble at all. See those?” She pointed at two dresses hanging on a clothes bar. They were nice dresses but they were also dripping on the floor.
I nodded.
“Those belong to Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Franks. The church bus splashed both of them as it arrived this morning. That’s why we have extra clothes here.” She handed me a sweater and a skirt.
They have people getting splashed by the church bus every Sunday? I shook the thought from my head as I prayed the clothes would fit.
“That, and we also have a clothes ministry. Come over here, and you can change in private. I’ll wait outside the door.” She smiled at me and left.
I quickly changed out of my soiled outfit and slipped into the blouse and skirt. With my own ruined clothes I wiped the water and mud from my legs, wishing I hadn’t worn hose this morning. A full-length mirror hung on the closet door. There I stood in a black sweater with a red skirt.
“Ready?” Mrs. Haywood’s soft call carried through the wood.
“Just a sec.” I added my dress to the other two hanging to dry, grabbed my Bible, and then hurried to open the door. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Thank you.”
“No problem. How about you and I go on into the Sunday school class? The others will be here in a few minutes.”
I hate going into Sunday school late, so I was happy to follow Mrs. Haywood. We entered a room with a board nailed over the entryway with the word Adult painted upon it. “This is a nice church,” I offered, looking around at the small classroom. Unlike my Sunday school room, this one had plaques with Bible verses and pictures of nice flower arrangements on the walls. Several lace-covered round tables were clustered about the room. A bookshelf holding Bibles and what I assumed were Sunday school books sat beside the door.
“We try to make it feel like a home instead of a place to visit once a week.” She offered as she took a chair at the table.
I sat down, too. It really did feel comfortable. I noticed a small table off to one side of the room. A coffee pot with several cups sat on its surface. The aroma of fresh brew began to fill the air.
“Would you like a cup while we wait?” Mrs. Haywood offered. “It should be ready in a couple of minutes.”
“Thanks. That would be nice.”
I watched her get up and separate two Styrofoam cups from a tall stack. She opened a cabinet under the table and pulled out a tray with an assortment of condiments on it.
“Cream or sugar?”
The sound of southern gospel music filtered into the room. “No thanks. I prefer mine black.” I felt as if I were visiting the home of Mrs. Haywood instead of a new church.
She carried my cup over and offered it to me. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you find our church?”
I took a tentative sip of the hot brew. “Thank you. My friend, Mitzi Douglas, used to go here.”
“Oh yes. We miss Mitzi. She was a wonderful woman and a very loving soul.”
Well, that was one way to describe her, I suppose. I studied Mrs. Haywood over the top of my drink. When Luke and I were planning her funeral, it never entered our minds to use her church and pastor for the services. We’d simply had a graveside service with my pastor residing. Now I felt a twinge of guilt at having neglected her church family. I shook off the feeling and told myself the announcement had been in the newspaper and anyone could have attended.
“Yes, she was.” I finally answered. The music stopped.
Mrs. Haywood set down her cup and tilted her head to the side. After a couple of seconds, she smiled at me. “The rest of the class will be here in a moment. Before they arrive I want to welcome you into our church. I hope you will like it here.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. She seemed so sincere in her invitation. “Thank you, I’m sure I will.”
Couples began to arrive, some young, some old, some at an age I couldn’t define. I watched each one with the question, Could that person know who killed Mitzi? running through my head.
; Several came over and introduced themselves, and then went and found a seat at one of the round tables. They were all very warm and friendly, but I was glad to see the instructor finally stand at the front of the room to begin the lesson.
Only she didn’t. She asked the age-old question. “Do we have any visitors today?” Why do they do that? She knew she’d never seen me before, at least I didn’t think she had and yet, she asked the question.
Mrs. Haywood raised her hand. “I’d like to introduce Claire Parker. She’s a friend of Mitzi’s.”
The instructor brought a lesson book to me. “We’re glad you could make it, Mrs. Parker.”
All eyes were upon me.
Lethal Lasagna Page 5
