Nickeled and Dimed to Death

by Denise Swanson

  What with the two craft groups and the regular customers, the morning’s business was brisk. Predictably, it tapered off right about eleven forty-five. Fifteen minutes later, the store had completely emptied out and Hannah left to attend her afternoon classes.

  Once I was alone, I checked my messages. Poppy had texted that Boone was in a fairly good mood when he went to the PD, and Boone himself had left a voice mail saying that the cops had mostly repeated their questions about his relationship with Elise and her divorce, then let him go. That wasn’t the best scenario, but at least the police hadn’t rearrested him.

  I had just started working on the Stehliks’ bon voyage basket when the sleigh bells above the entrance jingled and a young man carrying a large thermal cooler bag strode inside. He was in his early twenties and dressed in city chic—skinny jeans, black leather jacket with the hood up, and canvas sneakers.

  He stopped just over the threshold and looked around; then, spotting me at my worktable, he jogged over and asked, “Are you Dev Sinclair?”

  “Yes, I am.” I ran the guy’s face through my mental Rolodex but came up blank. He wasn’t one of my regular customers and I didn’t recall seeing him around town, either. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I have a delivery for you.” He plopped the carrier on the counter.

  “But I didn’t order anything.” I peered suspiciously at the bag.

  He took a notebook from his back pants pocket and flipped through it. “Well, it says right here that this stuff goes to Dev Sinclair at Devereaux’s Dime Store on the main street in Shadow Bend.”

  “But—”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot that I picked this up on my way over here.” He cut off my protest, then said, “Here,” as he thrust an envelope into my hand.

  I removed the pale-blue cardboard rectangle, saw the familiar handwriting, and my heart skipped a beat. The note read:

  Dev,

  There’s been an emergency and the clinic is swamped with patients that need immediate treatment. I won’t be able to call you until early evening, or maybe later. I’m sorry, but we’ll have to postpone visiting Max Robinson until tomorrow.

  I remembered that you like sushi, so I ordered an assortment for your lunch.

  Noah

  P.S. The delivery guy’s been tipped already.

  Touched by Noah’s thoughtfulness, I stood unmoving for a few seconds until I noticed the delivery guy tapping his foot. Aware that there were no sushi restaurants within a thirty-mile radius of Shadow Bend, I gave him a ten-dollar bill, then sent him on his way. Once he was gone, I examined the three black plastic containers on the counter. Through the clear lids, I could see beautiful creations that were truly works of art.

  There were avocado, spicy tuna, salmon, and shrimp tempura rolls, as well as kappa maki, unagi, and maguro. It was considerably more food than I could eat in one sitting, and I found myself wishing that Noah were there to share it with me. I’d had my first taste of the exotic treat years ago when he’d taken me to a sushi restaurant in the city. It had opened my eyes to the world outside our small town, an event I’d never forgotten.

  Thinking about that date made me check to see where Noah had ordered the food. When I saw that it was the same place where we’d eaten as teenagers, I had to swallow the lump in my throat.

  Having this lunch delivered from Kansas City had been expensive, but money didn’t mean very much to Noah. What really moved me was that he had remembered what we had shared and that maybe the experience meant as much to him as it did to me.

  CHAPTER 16

  * * *

  For a split second I considered putting the sushi containers back in their bag and going over to the clinic to share the meal with Noah, but a couple of things stopped me. One, I would have to close the store, which I did only in an emergency. Two, and more important, what if I was reading too much into the gesture?

  Having been thwarted by my insecurities, I texted Poppy and asked her to join me for lunch. I knew she’d enjoy the treat. And since she was one of the few people I trusted completely, I decided it was time to tell her everything and get her opinion on the Noah situation.

  Ten minutes later, Poppy and I were sitting at my worktable, eating slices of kappa maki and drinking the pot of tea I’d brewed while I waited for her arrival. As we scarfed down the cucumber roll, I revealed all the stuff I’d been keeping from her—Jake working with his ex, Noah wanting to be back in my life as more than a friend, my ambivalence over the newly rekindled feelings I had for him, and my confusion about his feelings for me.

  Poppy nodded and chewed until I ran out of angst. When it was clear I had no more to add, she said, “Are you nuts? Of course Noah is still in love with you. He never stopped. You were the one mad at him, remember?”

  I shrugged. That wasn’t exactly how I recalled the situation, but I didn’t want to argue.

  “The real question is whether you’re in love with him.” Using her chopsticks to lift a piece of sushi from the plastic container, Poppy paused with the slice near her lips. “Or are you just pissed off at Jake?”

  “I—I’m not . . .” I stuttered to a halt. Trust Poppy to cut to the heart of the matter.

  “Of course you are,” she chided, then popped the morsel into her mouth.

  I was silent as she chewed. She was right. I was a tad upset over Jake’s behavior—if a tad equaled the amount of water in the Mississippi River.

  Swallowing, she asked, “But is it your heart or your pride that’s wounded because Jake stood you up and hasn’t called?”

  “I don’t know.” My shoulders slumped. “And I hate not knowing.”

  “Sure you do.” Poppy arched a brow. “You’re almost as much a control freak as I am.” She grinned. “I’m surprised you don’t bug the dime store like I do the bar. Especially the craft corner. It must kill you not to know what they’re all saying back there.”

  “Moi?” I teased, then sighed. “My real problem is that I vowed never to let my emotions get the best of me ever again.” I grimaced. “Love has not exactly worked out for me in the past.”

  “Yeah,” Poppy commiserated. “It’s always sucked for me, too.”

  “So why do we even try to find someone to be with?” I knew not to mention her ex. Poppy never talked about her divorce or the man she referred to as Sir Jerkalot. “We should just take a vow of chastity. I mean, clearly it’s hopeless.”

  “The drive is biological.” Poppy selected a slice of unagi but paused before eating it. “Look at Willow Macpherson. She risked a huge book deal in order to boink Colin Whitmore.”

  I picked up a piece of spicy tuna roll. “Talk about making bad choices.” I tsked. “Willow’s has to be right up there with the Stupid Idea Award winners from the past—like Arnold Schwarzenegger and his love child or that congressman who was caught posting pictures of his hot dog on Twitter.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So why are you hooking up with Tryg?” I asked. “You know that’s got to end badly.”

  “He whispered my favorite words when we were at the mall.”

  “And they were?” I had no idea what she meant, just that it wasn’t a marriage proposal.

  “He said, ‘I’ll buy it for you.’”

  I laughed and shook my head.

  “Hey, all men are animals.” Poppy snickered. “Some just make better pets. Which is exactly why I get what I want from a guy and then make sure I’m the first to say good-bye.” She frowned. “That way, at least they’re the ones who get hurt—not me.”

  “That means I should forget both Noah and Jake.” I pointed to the box of erotic-basket supplies stashed below the table. “These things can take care of any biological urges, and, unlike a man, they do it without the risk of a broken heart or various diseases.”

  “And I thought I was unromantic.” Poppy chugged the last of her tea.

  “Like so many things that get too much hype, romance is highly overrated.” I stood and started to clear away th
e debris from our meal.

  “Sort of like Steve Jobs being so wonderful.” Poppy snorted.

  “Right.” I nodded. “And the Prius being the best car that was ever invented.”

  “Did you hear about the survey that claims that the first thing a man notices about a woman is her eyes?”

  “No.” I made a face. “But I did hear that the first thing about a man that a woman notices is that he’s a liar.”

  “So true.” Poppy sighed. “If love were really blind, sexy lingerie wouldn’t be half as popular as it is.”

  Having agreed that true love was a fairy tale perpetuated by Hallmark, Harlequin, and sappy movies, we turned our conversation to Boone’s precarious situation. However, there wasn’t much new to add. The biggest lead we had was Elise trying to get Colin fired, and I promised to call Poppy as soon as Noah and I talked to the bank president.

  Poppy and I finished cleaning up our trash from lunch and I waved good-bye. Once she left, I assembled the items I would need for my next project. In addition to the Stehliks’ bon voyage order, I had two other gift baskets to complete before the afternoon rush started. Between the baskets, then, later, the customers, I worked steadily until closing time at six.

  After locking the door, I finally had a chance to check my cell, but Noah hadn’t called, so I headed home. During the short drive, my thoughts darted back and forth between the murder and my love life.

  While I was putting together a birthday-bash basket, I’d remembered the pies that Noah had brought to Boone’s the night before. One of them had been French silk, my favorite. Had he remembered that I liked it, or had his choice been a coincidence? Hell! For all I knew, French silk had been the pie shop’s flavor of the day.

  When I walked into the house, I could hear Birdie talking on the phone in the kitchen. “No. I don’t think he’s contacted Dev since he left.”

  Damn! She had to be referring to Jake. I tiptoed closer to the kitchen’s entrance, wanting to know who was on the other end of the line. The way my luck had been running, it was probably the local newspaper’s new gossip columnist. No one knew the identity of the writer, but “The Bend’s Buzz” was a huge hit. It undoubtedly sold more papers than all the other articles combined—including the high school football scores and grocery store coupons.

  Birdie had the telephone on speaker, so she could continue cooking as she spoke, and I was relieved to recognize Tony Del Vecchio’s voice when he said, “Jake’s boss let me know that she and Jake are undercover as boyfriend and girlfriend. She said they and the rest of their team probably wouldn’t be able to risk being discovered by calling again. They don’t even carry their private cell phones when they’re on a case like that.”

  Ah-ha! I’d been right. Jake’s boss was Meg, so that meant he was with his ex. And not just spending time with her, but spending time as a pretend couple.

  “Jake and Dev together are as cute as a speckled pup in a red wagon under a Christmas tree,” Tony said. “And that boy is plumb crazy about her, so I know he’d call her if he could.”

  My heart accelerated when Tony said that Jake was crazy about me. Then I realized it was probably wishful thinking on his part. He and Gran were on a mission to see Jake and me together, and they wouldn’t let a little thing like reality stand in their way.

  “Humph.” Birdie clearly didn’t care what Jake’s excuses were. She glanced around, and I eased back where she couldn’t see me. “When you do finally speak to Jake, you better let him know that he’s got some serious competition, so he needs to get on the ball. Dev isn’t sitting around waiting for him.”

  “Son of a biscuit!” Tony’s voice held a mixture of concern and disapproval. “It’s only been a few days and she’s already carrying on with someone else? What did she do, put an ad in the paper?”

  “Of course not.” Birdie sounded offended. “Besides, to be fair, Dev claims they’re not dating.” Gran heaved a sigh. “But she’s seen him every day since Saturday.” She took a pan of corn bread from the oven and set it on a wire rack. “And he’s a sneaky bugger, so he’s probably working on her each time they’re together.”

  “Hmm.” Tony paused. “I guarantee you that if Jake gets in touch with me, I’ll light the fuse on that rocket and let him know that there’s a rooster in his henhouse.”

  “You do that.” Birdie put the potholders in the drawer. “Tell him my daddy always said that your fences needed to be horse-high, pig-tight, and bull-strong. And Noah Underwood talks a lot of BS.”

  Birdie said good-bye, hung up the phone, and yelled, “I heard you come in the door, so you might as well show your face.”

  “Good for you.” I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge. “It didn’t stop you from practically offering a dowry for me.” I poured a glass of the zinfandel and admonished, “You and Tony need to back off. Jake and I are fine.”

  “Humph!” Birdie stirred a pot on the stove, and the heavenly aroma of homemade chili wafted through the air. Waving the wooden spoon in my direction, she demanded, “Did you see that man today?”

  “No.” Which was true. She hadn’t asked if he sent me a message or bought me lunch.

  “Do you plan on seeing him again?” She pushed me out of the way and started to set the table.

  “Yes, I do plan on seeing Noah.” I took the silverware out of the drawer and grabbed the napkin holder from on top of the fridge.

  “Why?” She transferred the chili from its pot to a serving bowl.

  “Well, for one thing, because he’s helping us prove that Boone is innocent.” I gave her the lone reason that she couldn’t debate. “He’s got a lot of connections that Poppy, Boone, and I don’t have.”

  Gran grunted, unable to argue with that; then a nanosecond later, she regrouped and demanded, “Did you at least do what I told you to about nipping the uh . . .”

  “Rumors,” I supplied

  “Right.” She nodded. “The rumors about you and him in the bud?”

  “No.” I fetched the butter dish and corn bread. “Did you really expect me to tell people that stuff about Jake?”

  “Yes, I did.” She grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the cabinet above the stove and poured a healthy slug into a tumbler.

  We both sat down, and Gran spooned chili into her bowl, then heaped chopped onions and shredded cheddar cheese on top. I followed suit, and we ate in silence.

  Finally Gran pushed away her empty dish and said with a phony quaver in her voice, “Lord knows that I don’t ask you for much.” She pretended to wipe away a teardrop, but I wasn’t fooled. “So I thought you’d be willing to do the one thing I begged you to do for me. Especially since you know how very much it means to me.”

  “Sorry,” I said. And I was sorry that I couldn’t do what she wanted, but she was asking for something she didn’t have the right to request. “Look, Gran. You’ve never tried to run my life before, and you can’t start now.”

  “I’m not,” she protested, her expression stubborn. “It’s just that I don’t want you to make the same mistake that I made with Tony.”

  Birdie and Tony had dated when they were teenagers. He was a couple years older than she was, and she had refused to marry him before she graduated. So when he finished high school, he enlisted in the Marines. It was near the end of the Korean War, and when Tony ended up missing in action, Birdie married someone else—my grandfather.

  “And what mistake was that?” I asked. Gran had never been willing to discuss the matter, but maybe now was the time to clear up the mystery.

  “Missing out on the love of my life.” She paused and patted my hand. “Not that I didn’t love your grandfather, but in a different way.”

  “So why did you marry Grandpa so soon after Tony went MIA?” When Jake had first told me Birdie and Tony’s history, there was a lot going on in my life—I’d been accused of murdering Noah’s fiancée—and afterward I’d been reluctant to question Gran.

  “That’s not impo
rtant.” Birdie took a gulp of Jack Daniel’s, then drained the rest of the whiskey and in a shaky voice whispered, “I don’t want to discuss it. Some things are best left unsaid.”

  I was still deciding whether to press her for an answer when Gran roused herself and jumped up from the table. She immediately started clearing away the remains of our supper and shook her head when I tried to talk, so I stopped. If she wanted to practice better living through denial, that was her right.

  Instead I got up to help, and while the sink was filling with hot, soapy water, she put the leftover chili and corn bread in Tupperware, and I returned the containers of onions, cheese, and butter to the fridge.

  Once she started washing dishes, Gran seemed to recover from her emotional upheaval. After a few minutes, she said, “Just promise me one thing.”

  “What?” I asked cautiously, wiping a bowl dry and returning it to the cupboard.

  “That you’ll wait to hear from Jake before doing something you might regret with Noah.” Gran put a handful of silverware into the basket and rinsed it.

  “Okay.” I could do that. I planned to take things extremely slowly with Noah, anyway. If we could be friends and if he had really changed, then maybe he and I could move forward, but I wasn’t counting on it. “I promise.”

  “That’s all I ask.” Gran dried her hands on the crochet-topped kitchen towel hanging from the drawer’s handle, then hugged me. “Now you can have dessert.”

  I was forking a bite of strawberry shortcake into my mouth when Banshee wandered into the kitchen. The cat rubbed against Gran’s leg, purring, and she fed him a bit of the whipped cream. As I watched the ancient Siamese pretending to be a sweet kitty, I remembered Elise’s Russian Blue.

  What with Noah’s sushi delivery, and my busy day at the store, I’d forgotten about the poor little creature. Tonight I would call Colin and see if he had the animal. That is, as soon as I figured out an excuse for my interest. And if he didn’t have the cat, tomorrow I would get up early and go look for it.