“You’re such a liar—like your mom ever nags you. And you love living at home with your parents again.” Mrs. King came in with her granddaughter on a regular basis and it was clear how much she loved having Sadie live with her.
He shrugged. “It’s nice to see them so much, and Sadie loves her grandparents, but if I had a normal nine-to-five job, I’d rather have a place of my own.”
“I get that. How is Sadie? I haven’t seen her for a few days.” I moved to the display case and pulled out one of our triple-chocolate eight-inch cakes and boxed it up while we made small talk. I marveled when I remembered that I used to think he was rude and obnoxious. I was wary of guys—I’d been hurt too many times not to be—but he was growing on me.
If I could have a casual, fun relationship with Jack with no strings or expectations, and if I could be sure my heart wouldn’t get wound up in him, I’d totally ask him out for dinner and country dancing. But I wasn’t in that position and didn’t dare take the risk.
Besides, who knew if he was even interested?
I turned back to him, set the box on the counter and moved to ring up the purchase.
“So how’s the investigation going?” he asked.
“It’s coming. Slowly. Did the last one really wrap itself up in a week? At the rate things are progressing, I wonder if we’ll figure it out before the month ends.” It was discouraging, how slowly things were moving, but I knew it would come, eventually. If Detective Tingey didn’t beat us to the answer.
“Don’t be silly—it’ll be fine.” He handed me a twenty and I made change.
Our fingers brushed as I put the cash back in his hands and I couldn’t help but lift my eyes to his, swallowing hard when our gazes meshed. We hovered for the briefest second, and the pressure in the air seemed to raise around us. I pulled back, leaving the change in his palm.
My heart raced and my mouth was dry and all we had done was touch in the most casual of ways. I picked up a receipt from earlier and glanced down at it, needing a moment to regroup before I did or said something I would regret.
“I guess I should go,” he said after a long moment. Had he felt the pressure too?
“Yeah. Have a good day.” I swallowed hard, finding it strangely difficult.
He grabbed the box, exiting the store with a quick goodbye.
I slumped against the counter, wondering why I couldn’t just be happy living alone and being successful without messing up my life with men.
I returned to the kitchen to bake the cakes for tomorrow’s wedding.
“What’s going on here?” I asked as I walked into Honey’s yard. No one had answered the bell when I rang at the front door, but I could hear noises out back.
Chance, Honey’s eight-year-old son, looked up from the pieces of wood sitting in front of him. “I’m making a bird house!”
Jerry came around the corner, entering my view. Both he and Chance wore safety glasses and long sleeves, even in the July heat. An air compressor grumbled near the makeshift table where Chance held a wicked-looking mechanism.
“What have you got there?” I asked. The smell of barbecuing meat wafted to me while George stood at the grill and the girls played in a sandbox, though Madison, at five, who sat daintily on the edge, appeared to be playing only for the sake of her younger sister—she wasn’t a fan of getting dirty.
“It’s a staple gun, and Jerry’s going to let me use it.” Chance’s eyes glowed, his smile grew even wider—if such a thing were possible—and he held it aloft like a weapon.
“Should he be pointing that thing everywhere?” I asked Jerry. It looked dangerous to me.
“It’s no big deal. You can’t shoot anyone unless the latch at the front is depressed.” He pointed to a piece of metal that stuck out beyond the front of the staple gun. “Just like a nail gun, the nose has to be pushed against the wood or the staple won’t release.”
“Want me to show you?” Chance asked.
“Sure.” I set down the bag of cookies I’d brought from work and walked over, sticking my hands in my back pockets.
Chase put a couple pieces of wood together, and Jerry helped him adjust them so they matched up right. He held them while Chance pressed the tool against the wood and pulled the handle. There was a loud bang, and he lifted it away to expose the wood and the staple, which was buried all the way. “See how good I am?”
“Very good. How long do you think it’ll take you to finish that bird house?” I asked.
“We’ll finish this part of it before the burgers are ready,” Jerry said. “Then we have to sand a couple more spots and we’ll be ready to paint tonight.”
“What color are you going to use?” I asked Chance, who had returned to work setting in the staples.
“Orange, so the birds will be able to find it. If I used green, it might get lost in the leaves, don’t you think?” He pushed the safety glasses back on his nose and peered up at me, looking like a myopic puppy, always in desperate need of reassurance.
“That makes perfect sense.” I nodded and moved farther into the yard to see how things were coming with the rest of the food. “Where’s Honey?” I asked George when I drew closer. The sound of the staple gun made a staccato beat in the background.
“She ran to the store for some salads. She got sucked into the web design she’s working on and lost track of time.” He grinned, not bothered by it.
I understood that kind of focus well enough myself.
The back door opened and Honey appeared, two plastic grocery bags in hand. “Hey, I saw your car outside,” she greeted me. “How are things at the shop?”
“Great. Today’s receipts were good, and I’ll get tomorrow’s wedding cake finished up tonight. How’s your web project coming along? George said you’ve been buried in it all day.”
“So much fun! I’ve been playing with new features I’ve never done before. I have some new ideas for your site now and I can’t wait to show them to you.” She glanced around the yard. “Where’s Lenny?”
“Hopefully finding a place of his own.” We made small talk while we waited for the food to finish and Lenny to appear from his apartment search. He’d been gone all afternoon and I knew there weren’t that many places to rent, so I hoped it meant he’d found somewhere and was signing documents. My couch was starting to smell like cigarette smoke where he stretched out to watch TV. I really had to incentivize him to quit.
When he showed up, he walked with a jaunty step and was smiling. “You’re in luck, Tess, I’ll be out of your hair on Monday. I found a great place just a few blocks from the shop.”
That was music to my ears. Seeing him so excited about his place was nice too—it was the most enthusiastic I’d seen him since he arrived. “Yeah? One bedroom or two?”
“Two, and it has southern exposure coming in from the second bedroom with huge windows—the light is going to be awesome—and... ” He stopped, as if realizing that he’d just picked out a place with a room for Kat to paint in, even though he’d been insisting he didn’t want to get married. He stood there with disappointment sliding onto his face.
I kept my thoughts to myself as I asked him about the kitchen and other rooms. I wondered if he thought Kat would move here on his terms after all, or if he was planning to pop the question so she’d move to Arizona. I wondered if she would eventually give in and move to the area without a ring. She might, if she would give anything to be with him, even if she couldn’t have things the way she wanted. As it stood, it would be mighty hard for the two of them to reconcile if she was living halfway across the country.
I was torn by the thought—I wanted her to get what she wanted. She and Lenny were cute together, finishing each other’s sentences, opposites in so many ways, but oddly complimenting each other rather than working in different directions. Was it really best for them to get married? If Lenny gave in and proposed, would he regret it and back out as my two former fiancés had done, breaking her heart? Or would they be better off, luckier than I
had been? I didn’t know.
Since I wanted to see him happy again, I was willing to interfere, but I vowed not to let myself unduly influence either of them. There were limits to what a friend did, right?
Nearly two-year-old Zoey ran over to me and I swung her up in my arms. The youngest of Honey’s children, she was a breath of joy. And she loved me—how could I fault her good taste?
“Auntie Tess. Cookie!” Yes, she knew exactly what Auntie Tess was good for. Cookies. And cupcakes, and other yummy things. I made sure she always got at least a taste when Honey brought her into the shop, even if it was a small one. Since I wasn’t going to have a family of my own anytime soon, I’d live vicariously through Honey.
“Auntie Tess,” Madison said, coming up beside me. “Your sandals are so cool.”
I looked down at them, turning my ankle slightly so I could enjoy the flash of sunlight off the gold, strappy darlings. It was nice to wear something cute for a change. “Thank you. Aren’t they pretty? I wish I could wear them more often, but I can’t at work. Yours are great too.” Hers were covered in purple glitter.
She beamed at me and latched onto my free hand. “Come sit by me. I’m so hungry, aren’t you? Guess what? Today I went to Tanya’s house and we played Barbies.” She spoke triple-time, making sure I knew all of the details, pertinent or not.
I held in the chuckle bubbling inside me. I loved these kids; they were a bundle of fun.
When George’s parents arrived a few minutes later, the sound of the staple gun ceased, the air compressor turned off and the burgers and dogs came off the grill. Happy, I soaked in the warmth of spending time with family. Even if it wasn’t my own.
The school Marty Grizzle’s construction company was building had progressed to the raising of the walls. It had been a few weeks since I last drove past the school, so I hadn’t known how far they’d progressed. It amazed me that the empty cement hole in the ground had become so much more, so fast.
I pulled into a lot that was marked for visitor parking and got out of my car. I knew I couldn’t go onto the site itself without a hard hat, and I didn’t know if Marty was here, but maybe I could wheedle some information from one of his crew.
“Hey there, cake lady, how are things going?”
I turned and found a squat man walking over to me, his ball cap pulled low over his dirty face, his clothes full of dirt and his boots looking like they had seen better days—at least two years previous. I recognized him. “Hey, Mr. Frosted Oatmeal Cookies. I didn’t realize you worked for Grizzle’s company.”
“I’m a subcontractor, not his employee,” the man clarified. “The name’s Jared Turner.”
“I’m Tess, but I’m good with cake lady.” I paused to look around me. “So what do you do here as a subcontractor? It sure is going up fast.”
“I’m a framer. We’ve been putting up the walls.” He tugged at his ball cap. “Care to have a look?”
“Sure.” Who was I to argue if the man wanted to take me on a tour—which was what I was hoping for, anyway?
We walked around the outside of the building where I could see several groups of guys putting up sections of wall. One man cut two-by-fours while another used a nail gun to stick them in place. A third guy consulted a paper and shouted out dimensions.
“What is he doing?” I asked.
“We’re putting a window in that spot, so he’s telling them how big to cut the wood so the window will frame up right.” The man tipped his ball cap back further and spit some chewing tobacco juice on the ground.
I managed not to grimace. That habit was every bit as disgusting as smoking. “There’s a lot more to all of this than I thought,” I said, deciding to massage his ego. “I don’t know how you keep track of it all. How long have you all been working out here?”
“A few days. It don’t take long to get the job done. Not long enough, anyway. But I’ve got some other jobs lined up when this is finished. My crew’s in big demand.” His grin was full of self-satisfaction.
“Were you here the day of the fitness center opening? If you worked on that it must have been sad to miss it.” I tucked my fingers in my back pocket, wishing I’d brought a hat of my own. At least I wasn’t living in Phoenix, which was forecast to be ten degrees warmer than here. In comparison, Silver Springs was practically cool. Not that it was much of an improvement when we were hovering at triple digits.
“Wish I coulda gone, but I was here. That was our first day on the site. Way too many things went wrong.” He spit again. “Hate it when the crew before us screws things up and doesn’t leave it ready.”
“Oh, did you have to have Marty come back and take care of stuff? Does he supervise that closely?” I tried to act nonchalant, as if it barely even mattered to me and I was just trying to make small talk. “I bet there’s a lot of juggle in a job like this.”
“Yeah, he came back round about three, swore up a blue streak, nearly fired a couple of guys and then spent half an hour or so putting things back to rights before taking off again.” He shrugged. “Some guys are like that. He’s does okay at keeping it all together, I guess. I’ve worked with better, nicer.”
“Ah, and how long have you worked in construction?” In my head I was thinking that if Marty was only here half an hour, he had time to return to the fitness center (maybe) and kill Eric. I’d have to clock the drive on my way back home.
“’Bout twenty years. I was still in high school.” He paused to yell at one of the guys, asking where the other bundle of two-by-fours went. He turned back to me as if there hadn’t been an interruption. “I worked alongside Marty for years. Can hardly stand the man, but he gives me regular work, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. I sure wish I could get outta this area, though. Try something new.”
I smiled. I wasn’t particularly impressed with him as a person, but he’d given me useful information. “Well, good luck with that. You going to be here much longer?”
“A while yet, lots more classrooms to put in the walls for. It’s a big job.” He started walking me around the site, pointing out the different parts of the school from the cafeteria. To the gym, classrooms, where the playground equipment was supposed to go, and the preschool which would be part of the school, though it had a separate entrance. We passed the single-wide trailer that was the construction office, and he mentioned Marty was usually there in the mornings. I made a mental note in case I needed to come back to talk to Marty later.
I thanked Jared when we got back to my car and waved as I drove off. There was so much to think about still. I checked my clock and drove back at the speed limit, taking the shortest possible route to the fitness center.
The timing might have worked, I realized when I reached the spot. Of course, if Marty was at the site longer than Jared thought, then I could be wrong. He still might not have made it. I wondered where else Marty might have gone after he left the site and wished the framer had told me where Marty said he was going, but when I asked he said he didn’t know. Or maybe he just wasn’t the type to gossip.
I turned my Outlander back to the shop, planning what I needed to do next. I still had to speak with Anise at Nova Cosmetics, but I wasn’t sure how to get my foot in the door. Maybe I should stop by Marge’s store to find out what was going on. She always had terrific advice.
The next day I sat at the computer and pulled up my email. I smiled when I saw a message indicating there was a new cake order, loving this new form Honey had set up for me. However, when I opened the email, my eyes bugged as the name at the top of the form read Eric Hogan.
Below it was his address—at least it could have been his address. It looked like it went to the right part of town. I scrolled down and saw the request was for a double-tier cake all in black with red lettering. In the box where the client could request a specific message, I was struck by the lines, “Back off, or you’ll be next.”
My stomach dropped and rolled with nausea.
“What’s wrong?” Lenny asked. I looked up an
d saw him watching from the doorway to the next room, concern etched on his face. “You’re really pale.”
My breath came out in short gasps. The image was horrible, but it was the memory of my brush with death the previous spring that revved up my anxiety. I waved him over, unable to speak.
Lenny came around the corner, picking up a towel to dry his hands, since he had been dripping water from washing pans at the sink. He leaned over my shoulder to look at the screen and took a moment to read it. Making a worried hum, he reached for the phone. A moment later, he said something about needing Detective Tingey to call him right away, and that it was connected to the murder case.
Coldness seeped into my bones the longer I stared at the monitor, but I didn’t have the strength to stand and move away on my own. Thankfully Lenny helped me to the stool in the kitchen. “Come on, let’s get away from here.” His voice soothed as I followed his directions on trembling legs. “Calm down. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. One of the cops will be here soon and he’ll find out where this came from.”
“Remind me why I’m searching for another killer.” I sat at a bistro table on the other side of the counter.
“Because you can’t keep your nose out of other people’s business.” When I glared at him, his lips curved a little. “No, it’s because you care about whether that kid goes to prison. It’s because you’re one of those good people who worry about others. Come on, have a drink.” He poured me a glass of water and put it in my hands. When I didn’t lift it to my mouth right away, he helped me and I drank automatically. Just having him near calmed me.
“Feeling better?” he asked when a few minutes had passed. He was looming over me, periodically pacing to the window, peering out, then returning. I wished he’d sit.
My lungs didn’t feel so tight anymore, making it easier to breathe and the blood was circulating again. “Yeah, thanks. I’m going to be okay, really. It just surprised me.” I thought I had dealt with the trauma of the previous spring, but apparently I had a way to go yet. I took a steadying breath and focused on the fact that I must be learning something important if I was making someone nervous. Unfortunately, I had no clue what that was.
Pistols & Pies (Sweet Bites Book 2) (Sweet Bites Mysteries) Page 9
