She'd found the law office locked up. No one knew where Asher was, and he wasn't answering his cell. The thought that he was that angry, or that he was in enough trouble to take off made her sick to her stomach. He was one of the first to extend kindness to her, and she'd repaid him by running him out of town.
Auburn was all out of lawyers, but not realtors. If she didn't hear from Asher in the next couple of days she'd list the house with one of them before going back to her mother's place in Montana. It was a step backward, but she needed somewhere to land while she got her bearings again. She'd get a job there, or go back to school, and hopefully get an apartment of her own.
The money Grandpa Isaac left her was almost gone, but if the house ever sold it could give her a very good start. The thought of giving up on her grandpa's treasured house and selling it to a stranger so she could go back to a lonely life in Montana made her feel guilty and hopeless, so she tried not to think about it. 'Things don't always turn out the way we want them to,' she told herself. Grandpa Isaac knew that as well as anybody, otherwise he never would have gone to Wyoming.
Lila parked The Beast in Ada's driveway, cursing it as it jolted to a stop, causing half her things to fall onto the floor. She scooped up an armful and scooted out of the truck. Her eyes didn't clear the top of the pile, so she craned her neck to get a peek at where she was going.
Struggling to balance her load toward one hip, she pulled open the kitchen door. Lila screamed, dropping everything when she found herself face to face with a leering, round-faced figure in overalls standing inside the kitchen door.
A laugh burst from her throat as she realized it was only a scarecrow. She covered her mouth, staring at the painted pumpkin face and sightless eyes.
“What is that?” She tried not to look repulsed.
Ada popped her head around the door frame. Her eyes crinkled. “It's my gourd scarecrow, Gourdon. Isn't he cute? I made him for the gourd competition at the Fall Festival tomorrow.
Lila took a moment to inspect the creation before her. Its face was a painted pumpkin. Straw stuck out from a floppy hat. His strangest feature was his arms, which seemed to be made out of bluish-tinged gourds roughly the shape of corkscrews.
She forced a smile. “That is really something, Ada. I'm sure he'll get a lot of attention at the festival.”
Her stomach sunk at the thought of the festival. Couldn't she just stay holed up at Ada's until the situation with the house was under control, and then leave town? There were goodbyes she wanted to say, but saying goodbye to Max would be complicated, especially since she was too humiliated to speak to him. She didn't know what she'd said to him after he carried her out of the woods, but it couldn't have been good. He and Juniper may well have saved her life that night, though. It would be nice to make peace.
After gathering her possessions off the steps and dumping them in the living room, Lila made another trip to the truck. When everything was brought in, sorted, and put away, she joined Ada for lunch. Ada made cucumber sandwiches and sliced a large beefsteak tomato from the garden. She sprinkled sugar over it before offering it to Lila. It was hearty and dark red, and surprisingly good with sugar. Some foods, like peaches and tomatoes, Lila had only ever bought from a grocery store. Eating them fresh was like trying a completely new food.
Lila spent the next couple of hours packing and cleaning in her room. When the scent of baking pie shells wafted upstairs she came down to help Ada cook. The kitchen counter was covered with scraps of pale dough and a thick dusting of flour. Ada finished filling the last pie tin with dough.
“I should have watched you make them,” Lila said. “I'm terrible with pie crust.”
“We'll do it again some time, dear.” Ada's face fell as she said it.
Lila wanted to put her arms around Ada, but then they'd both be blubbering in the kitchen, and Ada would probably rather not let Lila see her cry. “Of course. I'll be back to visit.” She forced a smile. “What kind of pie are you baking now?”
“Those are just shells, for the caramel pies.”
“That sounds delicious.”
“It is. I'll show you how to make them. It's an old and very tricky recipe. It requires patience and perfect timing. Oops, I'd better get those crusts out of the oven. This new one gets hotter than my old oven. I have to pay attention or I burn things.”
“I'll get them.” Lila grabbed a knitted potholder and pulled the golden crusts out of the oven. “Do you want me to put more in to bake?”
“No, these others are for apple pies.” Ada brought a basket of apples to the table. “Would you help me peel and cut these?”
“Of course.”
Ada showed Lila how to use what looked like a torture device to peel the apples. It clamped to the edge of the table and she spun the handle, cutting a long, curling strip of bright green peel.
“Lou Wilson called,” Ada said as she deftly sliced through an apple. “He wants that old truck for some reason.”
“Are you going to sell it to him?” Lila had mixed feelings about the truck. In a way, it was a thing of beauty. But considering the lengths to which both Ada and herself went to avoid driving it, it didn't do anyone much good here.
“My father loved that truck, so I held on to it for sentimental reasons. A couple of times, near the end, I found him sitting in it. 'It's the only safe place,' he said to me.” She looked up from her work. “He got paranoid sometimes.”
Lila handed her a peeled apple and Ada continued. “After my Thunderbird died a year or so ago, I thought it might be useful. But I can't drive that old thing. Might as well let it go and find something I can drive. I guess I'd rather forget those dark days anyway.”
There was a knock on the front door.
“I'll get it.” Lila wiped her hands on a towel and went to open it.
Sheriff Larson stood on the porch. He smiled stiffly, which concerned her more than the troubled look in his eyes. “Lila. I was hoping you'd be here. Could I speak with you for a minute?”
“Sure.” Lila said, closing the door and joining him on the porch. She didn't know if this was something Ada should hear. She gestured to two white wicker chairs on Ada's porch and they sat down.
“Lila,” he started, and paused as if he didn't know how to continue. “Have you seen Asher Whiting lately?”
She frowned. “No. Why? What's happened?”
“Nothing's happened to him, that we know of. Actually, no one's seen him since the . . . uh . . . incident at his office.”
Guilt washed through her again. She looked away, holding her breath as she waited for the sheriff to continue.
“I wanted to talk to you about the book you found. I suppose you realized it wasn't actually a book.”
She bowed her head, resting her palm against her forehead. “Yes.”
“When I mentioned an illegal substance in my office you looked surprised. But I'm guessing you put the pieces together?”
Lila nodded. She chose not to mention that Gladys had done it for her.
“You know there were drugs inside.” He waited for her affirmation. “But when we had it analyzed it wasn't quite what we expected.”
She guessed there was no cause to be relieved, otherwise the sheriff wouldn't be here. “What was it?”
“The substance was not cocaine. It's called,” he pulled out his pad and peeked at his notes, “Diphenhydramine. Basically like Benadryl, but concentrated.”
Why was the sheriff concerned about Asher having Benadryl in his office? Lila squinted, picturing the hollow book. “I don't understand. Why would he hide Benadryl?”
“I'm told a large enough dosage of a drug like that would cause some serious hallucinations. Didn't you suffer from something like that shortly after having dinner with Mr. Whiting?”
Lila's blinked to keep back stinging tears as his implication set in. “You think Asher did that to me? Why?”
“I hoped you could help me figure that out.”
She shook her head, dumb
founded. There had to be another explanation. Who's to say Carl Snyder hadn't been biding his time, just waiting for an opportunity to make Asher pay once he found out it was him rather than Clint who had given his wife legal counsel? Maybe Lila had given him that chance when she'd sneaked into Asher's office and found the book. If he was prepared he could have slipped the drugs inside. It would be an elaborate frame, and not one that would even guarantee jail time. She wondered if the sheriff was right, and she was giving Carl too much credit. He looked mean but he didn't come across as particularly smart.
Then she remembered how she'd always felt there was a dark side beneath Asher's perfect veneer; a quick flash of anger quickly covered by the contrived smile. She had a tendency to be naive about people, but she had to admit she'd noticed it. She just didn't want to believe it. She'd even brushed aside Gladys's intuition, which she usually trusted.
Asher had encouraged her suspicions about the pond and the house. Maybe he had slipped her the drugs, hoping her fears would take form as they did. Or maybe he hoped something worse would happen. She could have killed herself falling down those stairs, or drowned in the pond.
And of course there were the multiple offers to manage the repairs and sale of the house. Was it possible that he'd wanted her out of there all along? There was one reason she could think of that might explain why Asher Whiting wanted that derelict house.
She stiffened, remembering how the ladies had told her they suspected someone may have killed Clint to keep him from meeting with Lila. Asher wouldn't have wanted Clint to tell her he believed there was something of value in the house.
Sheriff Larson interrupted her thoughts. “You don't have any idea why Mr. Whiting would do something like that?” he pressed. “The two of you have a fight?”
“No.” Lila glanced at the sheriff, but found she couldn't look him in the eye. “Well, nothing serious.” She didn't want to share her suspicions with the sheriff yet. She needed to think about it awhile. And while she wanted to trust Sheriff Larson, her instincts hadn't been dependable lately.
“Well, let me know if you think of anything.” His furrowed brow and kind expression made her eyes water. She looked away and nodded.
“In the meantime be careful, and don't confront Mr. Whiting if he shows up. Just call me immediately.”
She thanked him, and he left her alone on the porch. She sat for several minutes, staring off into the wheat field across the street. It reminded her of the evening she sat with Asher watching the sunset colors melt over the ripening stalks. She remembered how angry he was when she'd turned him down, and wondered if that might have had anything to do with what he did.
Lila took a big breath and straightened. She was looking at things the wrong way. Maybe she wasn't meant to come here to find a sense of belonging or direction for her life. It was time for her to learn that people who looked like friends couldn't always be trusted, and people didn't always mean the things they said or did. She was on her own.
Perhaps she should have listened to what she'd been told ever since she came here —leave the past alone. It was time to focus on the present and future. All Lila wanted was to leave this town behind her, and as soon as that house was out of her hands, she would.
She knew one thing: nothing could be left for Ada to manage. Asher was crazy enough to believe that there was something valuable hidden in that house. He wanted it so badly he was willing to let Lila die to get it if necessary. He wanted it so badly he might have killed Clint.
Chapter 24
Deep Fried Chocolate Milk
The next morning Ada pulled the pillow off Lila's head and golden light flooded across her face. She moaned and rolled to her side to shut it out.
“Lila, you slept in. You've been acting strange ever since the sheriff stopped by. After the pies were done you came up here and I haven't heard a peep out of you. You even missed dinner. You must be starving.” Ada sat on the edge of Lila's bed. “Is there something you haven't told me? Are you sick?” She pressed a soft palm against Lila's forehead.
“I told you. The sheriff just wanted to know if we'd seen Asher. And he said if we saw him to call immediately.”
Ada frowned. “That's strange isn't it? What do they want with Asher? Do they think something's happened to him?”
“I think he's gotten into some kind of trouble.” Lila wanted to make sure Ada was aware that Asher might be dangerous, but she didn't want the Society ladies on the job. If they found out he was responsible for her concussion, who knows what they would do. Besides, it was kind of nice having a bit of information that the Society ladies didn't have . . . yet.
She felt a twinge of shame for having been angry at Ada the other night, and for the self-pity she'd been wallowing in. She'd been acting as if the whole town was out to get her. Regardless of the mess they'd gotten her into, or what they were hiding, Ada and her friends had been loyal. She smiled as she thought of them whacking Carl with their purses, and sat up to face Ada.
“I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling so good last night. But I'm fine now.”
“Good.” Ada patted her hand and stood. “I was hoping you'd help me with a few things. It might freeze tonight, and we should gather the rest of the tomatoes or at least throw a sheet over them. The Harvest Festival starts at two. ”
Lila bit her lip to keep a groan from escaping. She'd forgotten about the festival, and wasn't sure her improved attitude was enough to cover her attendance. She could fake sickness, but the urgent look on Ada's face made it clear it was important to her. It was the last event they would attend together before Lila left.
“Okay, just let me get dressed.”
Ada bustled out of the room and Lila shuffled to her closet. She cast a sorry look at the summer dresses in her closet and pulled on her jeans. She hadn't anticipated being here when fall came, but Leona had given her one of her hand-painted sweaters. It wasn't really Lila's style, but there was something graceful and unreserved about the painting, and it was so soft on the inside. As for shoes, she only had the ragged tennis shoes. Flip-flops were what she resented giving up most at the summer's end.
Lila joined Ada downstairs for scrambled eggs and toast, then Ada went to the living room and produced Gourdon. “I have to put the finishing touches on him. There's heavy whipping cream in the fridge. Would you whip it up for the caramel pie?”
Lila looked quickly away from the disturbing gourd-man. “Sure.”
She poured the cream into the bowl and beat it, just as she'd seen Ada and Max do it. Then she slowly added the powdered sugar and beat it again, until soft peaks formed when she raised the beaters.
She spent the rest of the morning taking orders from Ada. They crunched through the remains of the garden to the tomato plants, and spread sheets down to protect them from the coming frost. She plunged into every task, hoping it would keep her mind away from Asher. When she thought back to the fear and pain of that night, she was horrified to think that someone pretending to care about her could have been responsible. Knowing he was out there somewhere frightened her, but she told herself to put it behind her so she could focus on getting through the next few days.
When Gourdon had passed inspection and Ada's hair was fixed and sprayed they had a light lunch. Then they laid the pies out on the kitchen counter.
The golden lattice-top crust on the apple pies had a subtle shine. Ada had shown her how to cut and lay out the strips. As she looked at the filling in the caramel pies she remembered Ada's instructions to brown the sugar almost to the verge of burning it before thickening it, taking care not to create lumps. It seemed to Lila that this kind of perfection would require not only instruction but a magic touch.
The next challenge was to load them safely in the truck. Lila had pleaded with her to call Gladys and ask for a ride, but Ada said she'd promised Lou she'd bring the truck so he could take a look at it. She wasn't sure there would be room in Gladys's car anyway, with the four of them plus Gourdon and all the carefully packed baked goods.<
br />
They placed the pies in the bottom of two fruit boxes, which they put in the back of the truck along with the scarecrow.
“Where is this party? The city park?” Lila asked, sliding into the driver's seat.
“No, it's at Rob Carter's farm.”
Lila turned the key and put The Beast in reverse, then pressed the stiff gas pedal too firmly.
“Whoa, dear!” Ada stretched her arms out to keep from hitting the dash. “Take it easy or the pies will be a mess by the time we get there.”
Lila winced. “Sorry.”
Ada guided her to the farm and they parked in a big dirt lot.
Lila stared, wide-eyed. “Is that a ferris wheel?”
“Oh, yes. They started doing that a couple of years back. Eddie Barker's cousin rents them out in Omaha, for parties and used car lots and such. It's costly to get it here, but the festival is a big deal for us. We do our own competitions and everything. Some people go to the county fair, but it's a long drive, and it's crowded. So we do our own thing. People get really excited about the gourd competition, and the pies.”
As they got out of the truck, Lila tried to ignore the tightness in her chest, and the unsettled feeling in her stomach. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was a face hiding among the crowd, with his eyes fixed on her.
She helped bring the pies to a long table, where Matilda and Leona stood admiring the refreshments. There were pumpkin pies, cinnamon rolls with thick icing, candied apples that glistened deep red, and apple cider.
“Those pies look delicious, Ada,” Leona said. “Are you entering them?”
“I'm going to enter the apple this year,” she answered. “What about you?”
The Obituary Society Page 16
