by Ann Charles
“What is it?”
“My momma’s famous apricot sauce.”
I licked my lips. “It smells delicious. I just want a taste.”
“It’s for the pork chops, not yer finger.” He hip-bumped me away from the stove. “Go wash up for supper.”
Okay, but first I wanted to change into something that had no waistband. At the top of the stairs, I slipped off my right shoe, kicking it through my open bedroom door. It almost hit Aunt Zoe, who was sitting on my bed with her luggage at her feet. I limped into my room wondering what was going on.
She looked beautiful in the soft lamp light radiating from my nightstand with her long, silver-streaked hair tied back. Her sapphire sweater and a scarlet bohemian skirt matched her personality—vibrant and a little wild.
“What are you still doing home?” I asked, leaning against my dresser. “I thought you were leaving this afternoon.”
“My co-traveler had an emergency and needed to hold off leaving for a few hours. He should be here soon.”
“If you leave now, you won’t make it into Denver until the middle of the night.”
“That’s fine. We’d planned on spending the first night at his condo anyway. We’ll check into the hotel tomorrow.”
“You’re staying at his condo?” I put my hands on my hips. “Is this the guy you went on a couple of dates with last month?”
“One and the same.”
“The guy who looks a little like George Clooney.”
She nodded.
“The one who you didn’t want to get involved with because he’s in the process of getting a divorce?”
“Yes, dear. That’s him. Would you like me to draw you a picture?”
If he looked like Clooney, I’d rather she took a photo of him. But I hadn’t made my point yet. “And now you’re going down to Denver with him AND spending the night at his condo.”
“It’s a two-bedroom.”
“Are you sharing a hotel room with him, too?”
She shrugged. “It’s cheaper that way. Those rooms are a couple hundred a night, and we’ll be staying there through Saturday.”
“Is there one bed or two?”
Aunt Zoe chuckled. “You’re my niece, not my mother.”
“This is a bad idea. You could get hurt again.”
That wiped the smile from her lips. “Not possible. I have my heart all tucked away safe and sound. I’m done with letting it rule me.”
I didn’t completely believe that. I’d seen how fiery she got when a certain fire captain came knocking. There were no old flames being doused when the two of them circled and growled, and a lot of smoldering going on when they were apart.
“If it makes you feel better, the room has two queen beds. Besides, it’s strictly platonic and he knows it.”
“I still don’t like it.” I knew Aunt Zoe was a big girl, but I was really partial to that certain fire captain, and I sort of had this ‘happily-ever-after’ fantasy for Aunt Zoe and him that I didn’t want some glass maker with a condo in Denver to screw up.
“You’re one to talk about risky heart ventures, Violet Lynn Parker.”
Boy, oh boy. She had me there.
Aunt Zoe patted the bed next to her. “Now quit lecturing me and sit.” After I joined her on the bed, she squeezed my hand. “Your eyes are bloodshot and your makeup is smudged in some spots and completely wiped off in others. What happened at work today?”
My aunt knew me way too well. I flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “The television people are coming a week earlier than planned.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re anxious to get rolling and Jerry has them all primed for Ben and me to take them around to some of the local haunted houses.”
Aunt Zoe snorted. “Your boss is a horse’s patooty.”
She’d had her dander up about Jerry since that first week when he’d walked into the office and declared that I needed a makeover. Her bra-burning feelers had gotten bent out of shape about the gobs of makeup, fake eyelashes, and new clothes he’d invested in on my account. The huge billboard out on Interstate 90 showcasing me as a floozy version of June Cleaver had stirred up the bees in her bonnet only more.
“But that’s not the worst of it,” I continued. “Jerry has decided that Ray has to go along with whoever the camera crew is working with each day to supervise and make sure Calamity Jane isn’t shown in a bad light.”
She scoffed. “What part of being on one of those reality television shows is putting Jerry’s business in a good light? They’re going to want some drama, and drama equals negative publicity.”
“Jerry is a firm believer that there’s no such thing as negative publicity.”
Coming from the world of professional basketball had skewed his view of publicity in my opinion. He had a THINK BIGGER sign on his desk. At six foot eight with shoulders that barely fit through doorways, he’d really taken that saying to heart. What he didn’t understand was that some of us liked being smaller, wanted to make a decent living and that was it, not reach world-wide fame.
“Yeah, well he’s an idiot when it comes to you.” Aunt Zoe leaned over and tucked some of my curls behind my ear like she had when I’d come to her crying as a kid. “I don’t appreciate one iota how he’s using my darling niece in his over-the-top marketing schemes.”
“Thank you.” I caught her hand, holding it against my cheek. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”
Her smile made her look even prettier. “Have you tried that apricot sauce Harvey’s got on the stove? That should make you feel absolutely wonderful.”
“Not yet.” I sat upright. “He sent me away to get cleaned up for supper first.”
She looked me over. “You look pretty clean to me, kiddo.” Then she leaned over and dropped a quick kiss on my temple. “When I get home from Denver, you and I need to talk about you know what.”
I groaned. “Can’t we just put it in a capsule and bury it in the backyard to dig up some time far off in the future?”
“You can’t skirt your responsibilities, Violet.” Her voice was soft but firm. “You know that’s true deep down in here.” She poked my chest above my heart.
“I have plenty of responsibilities already wrapped up in those two kids who are yelling at each other as we speak.”
Apparently Addy was hogging the bathroom again and Layne needed to pee. As I listened, the hollering and pounding grew louder. “Crap. I need to go play referee before they break down your bathroom door.”
“There’s a saying, ‘You cannot find peace by avoiding life.’”
“Yeah, well here’s an old Polish proverb that Nat likes to quote, ‘Not my circus. Not my monkeys.’ Coming from a long line of killers is not my circus.”
“I’M TELLING MOM YOU’RE USING HER PERFUME TO MAKE ELVIS SMELL BETTER, YOU BIG BUTTHOLE!” Layne screamed at the top of his lungs.
Dammit, that perfume was not cheap.
I pushed to my feet, frowning down at Aunt Zoe. “However, those two primates out there screeching at each other are my monkeys.”
“You better go before they start flinging poo at each other.” She pushed my butt, shoving me toward the door.
“Layne,” I hollered down to where he stood pounding non-stop on the bathroom door, “use the one downstairs, for heaven’s sake.”
He hit the door one last time before stomping toward the stairs behind me. He glowered up at me as he neared. “But my science experiment is in there.”
Oh, hell. What was the mad scientist up to now? I shook my head. I didn’t really want to know.
As he passed by me, I noticed a red mark on his cheek. “Hold up, buster.” I caught his arm and swung him around, taking hold of his chin. “What’s this?” I gently touched the angry looking scratch that appeared to be bruising around the edges. “Did your sister do this to you?”
My kids sometimes played rough with each other. Other times they just hauled off and started hi
tting, especially when I wasn’t there to string them up by their tennis shoes.
“No.” He pulled out of my grip, looking down. “I fell.”
“Did you scrape up your hands, too?”
He stepped back. “I’m fine, Mom. Don’t cry about it. I fell down, that’s all.” He turned his back on me and raced down the stairs.
I stood grimacing after him. Ever since I’d announced that Doc was my official boyfriend, my kids had been giving me the cold shoulder. Addy had wanted me to marry and have babies with her best friend’s almost-divorced father, Jeff Wymonds. Layne had liked being the only man of the house and now was certain I was going to kick him out onto the street. No matter how much I tried to explain to both kids the illogical directions of their thinking, neither were budging.
The doorbell rang.
“Layne, get the door,” I called down the stairs.
“I’m in the bathroom,” he yelled back and slammed the bathroom door.
“My what wonderful, loving children I have,” I grumbled, heading downstairs to get the door myself. “The Von Trapps would be so envious.”
“That’s probably my ride,” Aunt Zoe said from behind me at the top of the stairs. “I’ll go grab my purse.”
When I opened the door, it wasn’t a Clooney look alike. Instead he looked more like Sam Elliott.
“Reid!” I stepped back in surprise.
“Hey, Sparky.” Reid Martin, Deadwood’s fire captain and Aunt Zoe’s red-hot ex, stood on the front porch. He’d started using the ‘Sparky’ nickname for me after my Bronco had been lit on fire and died a hot and smoky death. “Can I come in? I need to talk to your aunt.”
I nodded, opening the screen door for him.
“Her shotgun isn’t within reach, is it?” he asked, shutting out the cold behind him.
Before I could answer, I heard Aunt Zoe’s footfalls clomping down the stairs behind me. I turned with a wince. “Look, Aunt Zoe. Reid stopped by to see you off.”
Her cheeks darkened with each step down, her glare searing our visitor. It was a good thing Reid was used to working around heat. He should’ve brought his firefighter suit to be safe.
“What are you doing here?” she bit out when she joined us in front of the door, dropping her luggage and purse at her feet.
“It’s like Sparky said,” he eyed Aunt Zoe from top to bottom. “I came to say goodbye. I like that color on you.”
“Who told you I was going anywhere?” She shot a squint in my direction.
“Not me.” I held up my hands. “I swear.”
“Sparky’s innocent. Although Coop would probably disagree.” The wink he sent me made me wonder if Detective Cooper had told him about the body in the safe. “Zo, it’s no secret that you’ve been attending this conference in late October for years.”
“True, but how did you know that I was leaving for it tonight?”
That was a good question considering she was supposed to have been out the door hours ago.
“That’s not important.” He jammed his hands into his tan coat pockets, shuffling his boot heels on the wooden floor. “I hear you’re not going down alone this year.”
She crossed her arms in response.
“You should have told me. I’d have taken time off work and driven you down.”
“Humph!” She lifted her chin. “I’d sooner hitchhike.”
“Liar.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and then looked toward the kitchen.
That was my hint to give them a moment alone.
Aunt Zoe must have caught his signal, too, because she latched onto my arm. “You stay right here.”
Not this again. I’d had to witness Reid’s heart getting stomped on by her a few weeks ago when he had set up a romantic evening for them out in the forest, and she had dragged me along. This time I didn’t have a glass of wine to hide behind.
“So who’s riding down with you?” Reid asked.
“It’s not your business.”
“Humor me, Zo.”
Aunt Zoe shrugged. “A good friend. He owns a couple of local art galleries.”
“Are you only riding down with him or is there more?”
“We’re rooming together.”
Reid’s jaw tightened. He looked toward the door, nodding. I doubted that he agreed with her choice, though.
“I don’t like it,” he said, confirming my suspicion.
“It’s not up to you to like.”
His focus snapped back to her face, his gaze piercing. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling it.”
The doorbell rang.
Uh oh. Was that her ride? How would Reid react to him face-to-face? Would there be some kind of brawl? I took a step back, pulling free of Aunt Zoe’s grip.
She bumped Reid aside and opened the door.
“Hey, Zoe,” Doc’s voice came through the screen. “I thought you were on your way to Denver.”
“I will be shortly. Come on in.”
I barely gave Doc time to make it over the threshold. Grabbing him by the hand, I towed him up the stairs. “Come with me, I need to show you something in my bedroom.”
“Your bedroom?”
At the top of the stairs, I nudged him toward my room.
He pulled me inside with him and stole a kiss. Well, considering how easily I gave it to him, there wasn’t much thievery involved.
When Doc pulled back, his dark gaze searched my face, a frown building on his brow. “You seemed off when I called you earlier, and now that I’ve gotten a good look at you, I’d guess you had a bad day. What happened?”
“I’ll fill you in later,” I whispered and then held my index finger to my lips. Slipping out of his arms, I tiptoed back into the hallway.
As I approached the top of the stairs, I heard Aunt Zoe say, “You need to leave. My ride will be here soon.”
Then I heard the front door open and peeked around the corner. Aunt Zoe was holding the door wide.
Reid took a step toward her. “If you get into a bind, call me. I’ll drive straight down and get you.”
“You don’t need to rescue me. I can handle men.”
“Really, Zo?” he grabbed Aunt Zoe by the shoulders. “Then handle this.” He kissed her, slow and cautious, like he was stepping into a flame-filled building. I could feel the heat from it clear up at the top of the steps. When she grabbed onto the lapels of his coat and pressed against him, my jaw unhinged.
A scuffling sound made me step back from the peep show. I looked around. Doc was leaning against my door jamb, watching me with one raised eyebrow.
“Now I see why Coop has such a problem with your nose,” he said quietly, grinning.
I wrinkled said facial feature at him.
I heard the screen door creak and then slam down below. When I peeked around the wall again, Aunt Zoe stood alone, staring out into the twilight.
No sooner had the rumble of Reid’s diesel truck faded when I heard the crunch of gravel in the drive.
Aunt Zoe lifted her purse and luggage. “Violet.” She turned, looking up at where I stood on the top step.
I searched her face for any sadness or anger, but her straight face left me clueless. “Are you leaving now?”
“Yes. I’ll call you when I get up tomorrow morning.”
“You doing okay?” I probed, which could be translated as: Did Reid’s kiss spark some old flames back to life?
“I’m fine. But in case anyone is wondering if anything has changed, it hasn’t.”
Hmmm. That lip lock a few moments ago hinted at a different ending.
After blowing me a kiss, she shouldered her way out through the screen door and left.
Harvey came from the kitchen and closed the door behind her. He smiled up at me. “Methinks the shrew doth protest too much,” he said, jumbling his Shakespeare.
“Reid is certainly not giving up without a fight,” Doc said, joining me on the stairs.
“You think he still believes he has a chance?
”
“I know so. He told me as much the other night during poker at Cooper’s place.”
A series of strangled-sounding clucks followed by a loud squawk came from behind us.
“What in the hell was that?” I asked Doc.
He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “It came from your bedroom.”
I followed him back into the room. We stood there next to my bed, listening. A thump came from my closet.
“It’s in there,” I whispered.
Doc eased across the room. I followed on his heels, leaning into him as he reached for the door and slid it open.
An even louder squawk made me jump back.
Elvis, my daughter’s chicken, flapped around in the bottom of my closet, working herself into a feather-flying frenzy. Then she half-flew out of my closet and ran out the door and down the hallway.
I watched her go, struck silent by it all.
“That was unexpected,” Doc said, plucking a feather from my hair.
I looked in my closet, taking in all of the feathers—covering my shoes, sticking to my clothes, floating around us. “Criminy! How long had she been in there?”
Doc bent down and withdrew something from the inside of one of my suede ankle boots. “Apparently, long enough to leave you a little present.” He dropped his find in my palm.
I glared down at the warm egg. “I’m gonna kill that damned chicken.”
I heard the bathroom door open down the hall. Addy!
“Adelynn Renee, freeze!” Shoving the egg back at Doc, I stormed into the hall. “That’s it! Elvis is leaving the building … for good!”
Chapter Four
Tuesday, October 23rd
Meanwhile, back in Elvis’s Graceland …
The next morning dawned silent and rippling with tension. The verdict was in—I was officially the worst mother of the year. Neither of my darling children would speak to me at the breakfast table, directing all of their answers to my questions through Natalie, who’d crashed overnight in Aunt Zoe’s room. She couldn’t quite shake her skittishness from finding the dead guy out at Harvey’s place.
I pointed my coffee cup at my stone-faced daughter. “Did you put Elvis in the basement like I told you to after she took her morning constitution outside?”
