He squirmed over the assortment of dead insects, but Jess was downright thrilled by them. She loved learning new things. She’d always had such a sense of wonder about her. Some people probably thought she was weird, but Drew liked her for it.
He moved in silence past her room, careful not to glance inside. What if it looked exactly the same? Or worse, what if the Pendergasts had changed everything—wiped away every shred of evidence she’d ever existed?
He wasn’t ready to find out.
Instead, he moved into the master bedroom and flipped on the light. It looked just as he’d remembered it. The only time he’d been in here was during a rainy-day game of hide-and-seek. He’d found Jess underneath the sleigh bed, which had felt so monstrous when he was little.
“Found you!” He’d tugged at her foot underneath the bed frame.
“Only because I didn’t hide in my best spot.” She scooted out from her hiding place and sat cross-legged in front of him.
“Where’s your best spot?”
“It’s a secret,” she whispered.
“Show me.”
She got up and checked the hallway, he assumed for their parents. When the coast was clear, she motioned for him to follow her.
He did as he was told, but when she led him to her parents’ walk-in closet, he let out a groan. “A closet isn’t a great hiding place.”
She pushed the clothes out of the way and revealed a small door hidden at the back of the closet.
“Whoa.”
“Told ya.” She slid the door open and led him inside. “It’s a secret room. Isn’t it cool? When I grow up and live here, I’m going to make this my dream room.”
“What would you do with a dream room?”
“I’d dream, you dork.” She had laughed then. “We should get out of here. My parents don’t like it when I play in here.”
He’d looked around and seen nothing important, only boxes, but he’d done as he was told. If Jess’s parents hadn’t wanted them in their secret storage room, he wouldn’t argue.
Now, standing just outside the closet, he wondered if the room was still full of boxes. He knew Harold had obsessed over Jess’s case. There was no sign of that obsession anywhere else in the house, but Drew had a strong suspicion he’d kept it all behind this door.
He switched on the closet light and pushed a hanging row of women’s clothes off to one side, searching for the door Jess had shown him all those years ago.
He found it and slid it open. Inside, a light bulb hung from the ceiling. He pulled the string, and the bulb cast dim yellow light on a wide-planked table built into the wall. Above it, newspaper clippings, articles and random notes were pinned up in haphazard fashion. He recognized so many of the headlines. He’d clipped most of them himself. Unlike Harold, though, he hadn’t put them on display. Instead, he’d shoved them inside a notebook, which he’d stuffed underneath his mattress, then tried to forget about.
He’d done a good job for the most part, especially once Harold’s notes had stopped coming.
But that notebook had found its way to Fairwind with him. He hid it underneath the seat in his truck, not ready to face the fact that maybe this case had the power to unravel him the way it had unraveled Harold.
What if the two of them weren’t all that different, both one newspaper clipping away from crazy?
On the wall, he saw his own name scribbled on a piece of paper, circled with a question mark beside it. Drew took the pin out of the paper, wadded it up and stuffed it in his pocket. Then, he surveyed the board, begging a God he hadn’t talked to in years to give him the miracle of a memory.
But nothing came.
He read familiar headlines on yellowed newsprint, reliving the dreadful days following Jess’s disappearance. He hadn’t been able to speak since he’d woken up on the ground in that barn, bleeding and disoriented. But he could hear the conversation in the next room.
When Drew hadn’t been able to provide them with a single clue, one of the officers coldly suggested, “Maybe the kid was in on it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” someone else said. “He’s a kid.”
“With a huge gash on the back of his head,” said another. “What do you think, he somehow sliced his own head open with a shovel?”
There was a pause before the first officer spoke again. “Maybe he agreed to lure the girl into the barn. Maybe he didn’t know it would get out of hand.”
“That’s insane,” his mother said. “Drew would never, ever do anything to hurt Jess or anyone else.”
Another pause.
“Sonya, you can’t believe this.” His mom sounded afraid. Drew remembered because he wasn’t used to hearing fear in his mother’s voice. “You know Drew.”
“Of course not,” Jess’s mom said. “Of course he wouldn’t.”
The next morning, his parents packed up their things and left Fairwind Farm.
He didn’t say a word the whole way home. So began his pattern of speaking only when he had something to say. And that wasn’t very often. Regret twisted its way into his belly. They had all been counting on him, and he’d let them down.
Harold and Sonya Pendergast had died without an ounce of closure—no closer to finding out what had happened to their daughter than the day she’d gone missing. What made Drew think he was entitled to something they’d never had? He’d been running from that day since he was ten years old; like a soldier gone AWOL, he’d abandoned his post.
And he hated himself for it.
He sat at the little table in the hidden room, poring over the clippings, rereading every article and Harold’s handwritten notes in the margins. He picked up a small photo of Jess, running his finger over the frozen image of her face. She’d tucked a flower behind her ear, and her smile was so full of life. What kind of dreams would she have whispered in the quiet of this room?
“I let you down, Jess,” he said quietly. “I won’t do that again.”
She hadn’t gotten to see a single one of her dreams come true, and someone should pay for that. He should make sure someone paid for that. If it meant spending every night in the little room and every day reliving her disappearance from the old barn, then so be it. Otherwise, it wasn’t right that he was here, playing house in the very place Jess should be living. He didn’t get to think about his future—it wasn’t fair to her.
It had to stop. He had to remember so he could move on with his life. And while he knew he’d never forgive himself, it was time to take action.
He wouldn’t be a coward anymore.
Chapter Twenty-One
At the beginning of their fourth week of working together, Beth arrived at the farm with coffee and pastries, but Drew was already out in the field, working.
She watched for chances to talk to him throughout the day, but he seemed to purposely make himself scarce. By the time she left that evening, she’d given up and left him a note with questions about the orchard and when they could meet with an expert, something that had been near the top of their list since they’d started.
The following morning, she arrived with Molly and Callie, who’d agreed to help with the Fairwind Farm Market. When she knocked on the side door of the farmhouse, there was no answer, and she could only assume Drew was already outside somewhere. Never mind that up until yesterday he’d always waited to get to work until they touched base in the mornings.
She’d grown to enjoy their little tradition. What had changed?
She pushed the door open. “Why don’t we get started in here?” she said to Molly and Callie, hoping her disappointment didn’t show on her face.
“As long as I get the apple fritter,” Callie said.
Beth set the bag of pastries down on the table and glanced out at the yard. No sign of Drew, only the crew who’d started to wander in from the parking lot.
“I’ve got some creamer in the fridge,” she said. “Let me get it.” She pulled it out and was closing the refrigerator door when something in the trash can caugh
t her eye.
The note she’d left the night before about the orchard.
It had been pulled off the fridge, crumpled up and discarded, like a nuisance. Not that she’d expected him to pin it up to his bulletin board like some keepsake, but seeing it in the trash like that put Beth right back in the conference room at Whitaker Mowers, desperately trying to sound like she knew what she was talking about, that she deserved respect.
She’d been striving to prove that she was more than just Jed Whitaker’s daughter since the day she’d graduated college. She’d known she’d never accomplish everything she was meant to if she wasn’t able to make these people take her seriously.
She brushed the thought away. This wasn’t that. Drew was hardly the staff at her dad’s company, and a crumpled-up note was hardly a brush-off. She knew a brush-off. Being asked to resign from your own father’s company—now that was a brush-off.
“Beth?” Callie’s hand on her shoulder pulled her back to reality.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Well, let’s get to work, then.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of research,” Beth said, sitting down at the table across from them. “There’s a whole community of artists, makers and vintage vendors with huge followings.”
“Duh.” Molly took a bite of one of Callie’s freshly baked apple fritters.
“You knew this?”
“You didn’t?”
Beth frowned.
“You’ve spent way too much time in your office.”
“How’s that going, by the way?” Callie broke a piece off an apple fritter and popped it in her mouth.
“Work?” Beth’s stomach dropped. Can we not talk about work?
“Yeah, how are they handling it with you out here every day?”
Beth met Callie’s eyes. She should’ve told her the truth. Should’ve told Molly. She’d made this whole thing worse. It was humiliating.
“She took a leave,” Molly said. “I’m sure they don’t mind. They’re probably just so happy you’re still on their staff.”
I. Was. Wrong.
The words echoed through Beth’s mind. Why was saying it aloud still so difficult?
“Well, that’s true.” Callie laughed.
Molly smacked her hand down on the table. “So, the Fairwind Farm Market.”
“Right.” Beth opened her laptop. “I didn’t realize these markets could be such a draw. But we have the perfect venue to make this a huge success.”
“I’m starting to realize what I’ve gotten myself into,” Callie said. “I forgot you don’t do anything small.”
That included making mistakes.
Ugh. What was wrong with her? Why did a crumpled-up note in a trash can have this kind of effect on her?
“I think we can really create an event that will put Fairwind back on the map,” she said, forcing the ugly thoughts out of her mind. “That means a whole lot more work than we anticipated.”
“Sounds good to me,” Molly said. “It’s not like we can do much else around here. There’s only so many times I can mow the lawn and you can water your vegetables.”
“I resent that,” Beth said. “If we had time, we could learn to do all this stuff.”
“Oh, I forgot. You’re all ‘I am woman, hear me roar.’” Molly rolled her eyes.
“You forgot that?” Callie asked. “She came out of the womb roaring.”
Molly laughed. “That’s true. Who needs a man? Not my sister! They’ll just get in her way.”
Beth straightened. “That’s not true.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “Beth. Please. Do you know yourself at all?”
She looked away. “We need to talk about this sale. We need to make it the event of the year. I was thinking of asking Dina Larson for some help.”
Both Callie and Molly stopped moving and stared at her, wide-eyed.
“I’m sorry, what?” Callie set her muffin down. “Dina Larson?”
“She was out here last week. Said she’d help with advertising for the farm. I’m sure she’d help with this too.”
“We can’t afford her,” Molly said.
“She said she’d give me the best-friend discount.”
“She’s not your best friend.” Callie sounded defensive.
“I know,” Beth said. “But she offered.”
Callie took a bite, chewed it slowly. “It would probably be good for her, I guess.”
Beth frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I hear things sometimes,” she said. “At work.”
Molly’s eyes darted to Beth, then back to Callie. “And?”
“I heard her husband is leaving her. Her grandma Ginny told my mom.”
Beth’s shoulders slumped at the news. What if Dina hadn’t come out to Fairwind to rub her success in Beth’s face at all? What if she’d simply needed a friend? Beth hadn’t been what she was looking for, she was sure. She’d been far too untrusting to see Dina’s actions as anything other than patronizing.
What if Dina Larson’s perfect life . . . wasn’t?
“I’ll reach out to her,” Beth said. “And I’ll work on a website. Molly, can you reach out to vendors, since you seem to understand the way this world works?”
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll start today.”
“Okay, but I need a list of everyone you contact.”
Molly shot her an exasperated look. “I can do this, Beth. I promise.”
“All right, let’s go outside and map out where we want everything,” Beth said, gathering her notes. “That way, if there’s something we need cleaned or repaired before the day of the event, we can let Drew and the other guys know.”
Saying his name aloud made her feel naked, like it was some sort of admission that she spent more time than she should thinking about him.
The three of them headed out toward the barn, Beth’s uneasiness bubbling inside of her. After their day planting the garden, she’d expected her friendship with Drew to settle into a nice rhythm, but the opposite had happened. She hadn’t thought it was possible, but he’d grown even more withdrawn than before. She didn’t like that he seemed to have any hold over the way she felt, but between the note in the trash and the obvious distance he’d put between them, she could tell something was wrong.
Why did she care? He was her employee, not her boyfriend.
Even the thought of that sent heat to her cheeks.
“How do you get anything done with all these hot guys around all day?” Callie watched as two of Drew’s guys walked out of the main barn.
“Oh, Beth only has eyes for one hot guy,” Molly said.
Beth stopped walking and stared at her sister. “What? No, I don’t.”
Molly waggled her eyebrows in typical kid-sister fashion. “She’s in denial.”
“I am not,” Beth said. A few more of the crew strolled around the property as if they had all the time in the world. “Don’t they know we’re on a really tight deadline?”
“Maybe they’re on break,” Molly said. “They get those.”
They came up to the main barn, and she saw more men sitting around. Laughing. Taking it easy. Perhaps she’d put too much faith in Drew’s ability to manage these men. All this time, she thought he’d insist on them working at his pace—not a snail’s.
Inside, another small group stood in a circle shooting the breeze. Not a single one of them seemed to notice she was there. Shouldn’t they at least pretend to be working, considering she’d be the one who signed their paychecks?
She scanned the barn for Drew, but he was nowhere to be found.
“Unbelievable.”
“Beth, let’s let Drew handle the staff,” Molly said.
“That’s what I thought we were doing,” she said.
She and Molly deserved their respect too, and they clearly didn’t have it. Beth had to prove herself competent, even if she felt anything but.
“Excuse me?” Her voice did nothing to end the c
hatter. If anything, the volume of their voices increased, swallowing hers up.
“Excuse me?” Louder and with more authority.
Acknowledgment rippled through the group at the same pace the men seemed intent on working. Slow and steady. Eyes finally turned on the three of them.
“Beth, this is a bad idea.”
“Relax, Molly,” she said quietly. “Someone has to show these guys who’s in charge.”
“Does it have to be you?”
“I assume you all know who I am,” Beth said, ignoring her sister. “But if not, let me refresh your memory.” She stood taller, remembering the importance of looking the part. She might be shorter and smaller than every man who now gave her his full attention, but she’d make sure her presence outweighed them by one hundred pounds. At least.
“I’m the one responsible for this farm. I pay the bills. I sign the checks. So when I come out here and find you all sitting around, chatting and laughing like a group of friends on a camping trip, you can imagine it doesn’t sit well with me. In case you missed the memo, guys, we’ve got a deadline. And it’ll be here before we know it. But none of you seem at all interested in working today, so what do you think I should do? Send you all home and find a crew who is actually interested in earning their money?”
Kent Tanner took a step away from the crowd. He still had the same cocky attitude he’d had back in high school; Beth could see it in the way he looked at her now. “Well, look at that, boys. Guess we’ve been told.”
Beth stiffened and reminded herself not to lose her nerve. She should’ve known there would be at least one.
“It’s true what everyone says about you, isn’t it?” Kent took a step in her direction, towering over her. He weighed at least twice as much as she did.
She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes, part of her wishing she’d stayed in the house. “Do you really think I care what anyone around here says about me?”
She did. Did it show?
He smirked, moving in on her. “I heard you’re even more uptight than you were in high school. But then, you always did think you were better than everyone else.”
Hometown Girl Page 21
