by Jeff Shelby
I only knew one person who’d decorated their car with a Dorothy Days bumper sticker.
Savannah Springs.
Before I could stop myself, I steered the car into the driveway and turned off the engine. I reached for my purse and hurried toward the front door. The wind was brisk and biting, one of those breezes that stole through fabric, no matter the thickness. I tugged the sleeves of my sweatshirt down to my wrist and made a mental note that jackets were probably going to be a staple of my wardrobe soon.
I stood on the doorstep, preparing my reason for coming over. I’d tell her I saw her at Toby’s the other day, and mention the pumpkin fiasco. And then I could subtly ask if she’d heard any news about the checking account and the missing money.
I raised my hand to knock on the door when a loud voice boomed from inside. It was a female voice: strong, determined, angry.
I recognized that voice.
Savannah Springs.
I knocked once, and then again, my knuckles stinging from both the cold and the hard wood.
The voice was silenced and I heard the sound of footsteps pattering toward the door.
Vivian appeared, her features arranged into a carefully composed smile. She was dressed in cream-colored slacks and a dark purple sweater. Amethyst earrings, teardrop-shaped and encrusted with diamonds, adorned her ears. “Rainy,” she said, looking me over. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Oh, I was in town and I just wanted to stop by,” I said. It was a half-truth. I had been in town…the other day. And I did want to stop by…to question her.
She closed the door a little, shielding the living room from view. “Now really isn’t a good time,” she half-whispered, glancing meaningfully at the now hidden foyer.
“Is everything okay?” I lowered my voice. “Is this about the money?”
Vivian nodded. “Savannah and Elena are here. They came by for the check—the one they needed the other day—and I…I had to tell them.”
“I take it the news didn’t go over well.”
She shook her head, her auburn hair swinging from side to side.
The door pushed open and Savannah appeared. She looked at me, then back to Vivian. “We need to continue our conversation,” she said after giving me a brief smile of recognition. “Sorry, Rainy, but we’re sort of dealing with an emergency here.”
“An emergency?” I repeated. I smiled at her. “I don’t think a banking error should be classified as an emergency, do you?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You know about the account?” Her expression morphed into one of confusion. “How does she know?” she asked Vivian. “She’s not a member of the Ladies Society.”
Vivian wrung her hands. “I know,” she said quickly. “But she has a background in investigating, and I…I thought it might be a good idea to tell her what happened to see if she has any ideas…” Her voice trailed off.
Savannah glared at Vivian. “So it’s fine to tell a regular citizen that thousands of dollars are missing from our organization but we can’t fill the sheriff in? That makes no sense, none at all!”
I watched the back and forth between the two women, absorbing the information. Savannah had clearly found out about the money and was advocating for calling in the authorities. I wondered if that was what she had been yelling about when I first arrived. And Vivian, it appeared, was against the idea.
“Maybe we could talk about this inside?” I rubbed my arms. “It’s a little chilly out here.”
Both women must have forgotten we were standing at the front door because they backed away, nodding. Vivian held the door open and ushered me inside.
There were candles burning in the front room, spicy scented jar candles that flanked the grouping of knit pumpkins on the coffee table. Classical music piped out of from invisible speakers, a piano and harp arrangement that sounded vaguely familiar.
Elena Klersy was sitting on the couch, her head hung low, her shoulders drooping. She looked as though this was the last place on earth she wanted to be. Her eyes met mine and I smiled. She glanced away, refocusing her eyes on the carpet.
Vivian perched on the arm of the couch, barely resting on it. Savannah paced back and forth, clearly agitated. I pressed up against one of the walls, trying to ensure I wouldn’t get in her way.
“We have to make a decision here,” Savannah said. She folded her arms as she walked, her elbows tucked tightly against her sides. “Sophia is obviously responsible for this.”
Vivian looked up, her mouth open, as if she was about to say something.
“I mean, what else could have happened?” Savannah said, frowning. “She wrote out a check to herself, for crying out loud. And then cashed it. How much more obvious can you get?” There was a hint of disgust in her voice.
Vivian swallowed and looked away. Elena just stared at the carpet.
I spoke up. “You don’t know for sure that Sophia did it.”
Savannah stopped pacing and leveled her eyes on me. “Excuse me?”
“Just because something looks obvious doesn’t mean it is,” I said.
Savannah rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.” She turned her attention to Elena. “You agree with me, right? You think Sophia did it?”
Elena’s cheeks turned pink. She coughed. “Um, I don’t really know. I don’t really know her…”
“What else is there to know?” Savannah practically growled. “We know what she did and we know how she did it. The way I see it, we need to bring the sheriff in so that he can investigate.”
I might have snorted at that statement, because Savannah shot me a piercing look. She continued. “And I think we should call up the paper. Talk to one of their reporters and let them know what happened. Because if we are going to be impacted by this and our reputation is going to suffer—and it certainly is, seeing as how the festival is coming up and we have no way to pay for any of the expenses—then Sophia Rey’s reputation should suffer, too!”
I stared at Savannah. I’d seen her passionate about a lot of things in the short time I’d known her: about volunteering, about Dorothy Days; even about the décor she and Elena had come up with for the festival. But this was different. She seemed almost rabid.
“I think you might be jumping the gun a little,” I offered, trying to keep my tone gentle.
She spun to look at me, and her expression was so vicious that I involuntarily pressed into the wall.
“Have you talked to Sophia about it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible. “I mean, before you bring in the sheriff or the newspaper, maybe a simple conversation with her might be the logical first step. Allow her the opportunity to explain what she knows, and perhaps try to work together to find out what happened to the money.”
Savannah practically snarled her response. “No. It’s too late for that. The festival is days away. Days! We need the money yesterday. Do you hear me?” Her voice shook, she was so angry. “We have families—children!—who look forward to this festival all year long. What are we going to tell them when we don’t have the treats and refreshments they expect? When we cancel the Money in the Hay event because there is no money? What do we tell Pastor Murphy when we can’t offer our usual donation as a thank you for using the church? There are real life consequences here!”
I stared at her. As much as I thought she might be blowing out of proportion how important this festival was to the town, it didn’t seem like the best time to point that out.
I did know one thing, though.
Savannah Springs was upset.
Really upset.
“This is my second year with the society,” Savannah said. She turned on her heel and I thought she might be leaving but instead she simply began pacing again. “I joined because I want to be part of what makes Latney a great place to live. Having the treasurer steal thousands of dollars—and then not do anything about it—is unconscionable. Sophia Rey must be held accountable for her actions.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over V
ivian’s living room. The music that had been playing earlier had stopped, and the only sound was the low hiss of candlewicks burning.
I thought about the reason I’d come by Vivian’s, the fact that I’d discovered she might have a motive for stealing the money. And I thought about the forged signature at the grocery store, and what Declan had told me about the holiday cards Vivian helped Sophia write each year.
I stole a quick glance at Vivian. She was still sitting on the arm of the couch, her legs crossed, her hands folded in her lap. Her face was pale, her mouth drawn tight, her eyebrows arched into a frown. She looked uncomfortable; worried. I zeroed in on her hands. Her knuckles were white, and the leg they were resting on bounced a little, her foot tapping the carpet in a steady staccato.
Were those nerves because the conversation about Sophia made her uncomfortable? Or was she nervous because she had something to do with the missing money?
I didn’t know, but I also knew I couldn’t at that moment ask her questions that might help me discover what truly happened. Because if I gave Savannah any inkling that Vivian might in fact be a suspect, I was pretty sure she’d pull a pitchfork out of her blouse and pin Vivian to the wall.
“Well,” Savannah said, huffing out a breath. “I can see this is going nowhere. I can’t believe I’m the only one who cares, the only one willing to do something about this mess.”
“What do you want us to do?” Elena asked, meekly. Her eyes were still glued to the carpet.
“I already told you,” Savannah said. “We need to call the sheriff so we can figure out what happened to the money. We’re already screwed as far as the festival goes, but at least we can salvage our reputation and make the person responsible pay.”
An idea hit me. A stupid, reckless idea.
“How much money do you need to cover the expenses?” I asked.
Savannah froze; not from shock, but from confusion—at least that’s what it looked like, if I was reading her expression correctly. “What?”
“How much do you need?” I repeated.
She frowned. “I…I don’t know. I’m not the treasurer.” Her expression darkened at that statement.
Vivian cleared her throat. “The budget for the festival was two thousand dollars.”
“Would you accept donations to cover the cost?” I asked.
Savannah frowned. “We aren’t going to ask participants to cover the cost of an event we sponsor.”
“I wasn’t talking about asking them,” I said, smiling. “I was talking about me.”
Three sets of eyes turned to look at me.
“You?” Savannah asked, her mouth agape.
Vivian’s eyes were wide, and Elena was staring at me with a mixture of fascination and consternation, as if I’d suddenly morphed into a unicorn. A unicorn with money.
I nodded. “Sure. I’d be happy to make a conditional donation to the Latney Ladies Society so the festival can go on.”
Savannah’s eyes narrowed. “Conditional?”
“Just meaning that if the funds are recovered, then I’m repaid,” I told her. “My concern is that the festival happens and, as you mentioned, that no families or children are left disappointed. If the money is returned, then I can be reimbursed. If not…” I shrugged. “Well, then I guess I write it off.”
Savannah glanced at Vivian and then Elena. They were silent.
“You…you would do that?” Savannah asked. Her arms were still folded, but her posture had relaxed a bit. “For the society?”
No, I wanted to say. Not for the society. I was doing it for the kids, and I was doing it because I didn’t want to jump to conclusions about what had happened to the money. Savannah was convinced Sophia was behind it.
And I still wasn’t so sure.
I wasn’t a gambler. I hated Las Vegas, and I never bought lottery tickets. But loaning out two thousand dollars that I might never see again?
I was surprisingly okay with that.
Because I wasn’t focused on simply recovering the money.
I wanted to know who had taken it in the first place.
SEVENTEEN
“You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
I was sitting in Vivian’s living room, a cup of coffee in my hands. After getting my purse from the car and writing out a check to reimburse their craft supplies, Savannah and Elena had left. I’d written a second, larger check and handed it to Vivian.
Which meant I was alone with Vivian—which was exactly why I’d come over in the first place.
I tried to ignore the gnawing in my stomach as I thought about the checks I’d just written. Yes, I had a nest egg that was letting me live comfortably. It had afforded me the opportunity to leave Arlington and move to Latney to buy the farm. I was fortunate. I wasn’t short on cash, but writing a large check—and for a sum of money I might not ever see again—had left me feeling a little uneasy. Perhaps I’d made a rash decision.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
I took a sip of my coffee and forced a smile. I needed to focus.
And, right now, that meant getting some answers out of Vivian.
“Seriously, Rainy,” Vivian said, picking up her own cup. Her hand shook slightly as she brought it to her lips and took a drink. “We don’t have to cash it. We can cancel the festival, or even see if Walter might be willing to offer us a loan. We do have an inside track to him,” she said, trying to keep her tone light but failing.
“I’m happy to help,” I told her, and I was. Sort of. I swallowed some more coffee. It was a flavored blend, something with hazelnut, and Vivian had poured in so much creamer that the liquid was a milky tan color. “And I’m sorry that you have been the one who has to deal with all of this.”
Vivian’s eyebrows quirked. “Me? I’m not the one people are accusing.”
“I know,” I said, nodding. “I just meant you having to deal with the other ladies. I saw you at Toby’s, too, placing the order. I know you do a lot for the festival, and I’m sure all of this is weighing on you.”
Her features softened and she looked away, but not before I saw her eyes well with tears. “It has been hard,” she admitted.
I hid my frown by bringing the cup back to my lips. She truly looked distraught by what was happening. She was either a good actress, or she really didn’t have anything to do with the missing money.
I pressed on. “I bet you’re really looking forward to your trip once this is all said and done.”
Vivian set her cup down on the table, but not before she splashed a drop of coffee on her pristine pants. “Excuse me?”
“Your trip,” I said. I gave her an innocent look. “In November.” When she continued to stare, I added, “To Paris?”
She folded her hands in her lap, trying to cover the stain. “How did you hear about that?”
“Oh,” I said, covering my hand with my mouth. “Is it a secret? Gunnar and I were talking about traveling and he mentioned you have a trip to Paris coming up. I hope he didn’t let the cat out of the bag.”
She tried hard not to frown, but it wasn’t working. “It’s not a secret,” she said slowly. “I just…I haven’t talked much about it lately.”
I nodded. “Gunnar just mentioned it in passing and I just thought…well, I’m sure you’re looking forward to it even more now, especially with everything that’s going on.”
Vivian smiled, but it was a thin, almost frosty one. “Yes, I’m very much looking forward to it.”
I bit back a sigh. She wasn’t giving me much. “Gunnar said you’ve been planning this for a while now?” I said, phrasing it more as a question. “Something about having to reschedule?”
Vivian picked up her coffee and another drop splashed out as she maneuvered it to her mouth. She took a long sip. “Some of the details were…a little hard to pull together.”
I wasn’t sure she could be any more vague than that. I wanted more: I wanted details. I wanted her to admit that money was tight. Because that would open a slew of
potential questions.
“You and Gunnar are pretty close, are you?” she asked.
I froze. It was my turn to say, “Excuse me?”
“You and Gunnar,” Vivian repeated. “Your neighbor?” she prompted, when I remained silent.
Heat instantly rushed to my cheeks. It was my turn to feel put on the spot. “Well, we are neighbors…” I said, lamely.
“Must be nice to have someone so…handy nearby,” she commented. “You two are spending a lot of time together?” It felt more like a statement than a question.
She didn’t give me a chance to respond.
“I imagine that you have a lot of free time on your hands,” she continued. She fingered her necklace, her thumb rubbing over the purple gemstone. “I mean, you don’t work, and Gunnar does odd jobs here and there, but it’s not like he works a forty-hour week or anything. And I’m sure that those projects around your farm are the perfect opportunity for him to come over and…help.”
My desire to ask her more questions had pretty much been doused. Somehow, she’d turned the tables on me and I was the one squirming in my seat as she tried to corner me into answering questions I didn’t want to answer.
I set my coffee cup down harder than I intended. It clanked against the table, and I startled.
A fake smile stretched my lips to the point of hurting. “Gunnar is a very nice neighbor to have.”
“I’ll bet he is,” she murmured. “He’s a good-looking man. So strong. So…virile.” She practically purred. and my hackles went up.
A surge of possessiveness washed over me. Gunnar was mine.
Mine.
But, still, I said nothing. Because I didn’t want to share anything about him, and I certainly didn’t want to share the fact that we were dating. I didn’t want to invite anyone into my life who would ask questions or demand answers, or feel entitled to receiving that kind of information…especially a woman who seemed to want to sink her own claws into him.
I set my coffee down and stood up.
“I should go.”
