by Hillary Avis
“What?!”
Ruth loosened her grasp. “She has a concealed-carry permit. Keeps a little pink handgun in her purse at all times. I have one, too.” Ruth patted her purple tapestry bag. “Mine’s not pink, though.”
“Why in the world?” I gaped at her. How did I not know that the two women I spent the most time with were always packing heat?
“For protection! We’re single women. We live alone. What if someone breaks into my house at night?”
“Um, you should call the police, obviously. Not shoot somebody.”
“We don’t have a police force, remember? We’ve got one sheriff’s deputy, and even then, nobody’s on duty from two to six a.m. I have to be ready to defend myself. And Tambra’s got two little ones to worry about, too.” Ruth nodded toward Dylan and Ollie.
I rolled my eyes. “I live alone and I don’t feel the need to carry a deadly weapon around all the time. You should feel safe in your own home, for cluck’s sake.”
“Well, we don’t all have Eli living next door, do we?” Ruth grinned at me. “Speak of the devil.”
I looked where she was pointing and saw Eli’s black SUV turn off the highway onto my driveway. The vehicle slowed to a crawl as it passed the orchard; he must have spotted Dylan and Ollie playing there. He was observant like that. His job required him to have sharp eyes, I supposed.
“I get two for the price of one!” Eli said when he stepped out of the car, grinning broadly at us up on the porch. Ruth giggled, apparently forgetting that just a couple minutes ago she was telling me to burn stolen evidence rather than turn it over to him. His humor and charm won everyone over. Sometimes I thought maybe he should have gone off to LA instead of me. That kind of charisma could take you far in Hollywood.
I held Tambra’s report behind my back. “You know, you live next door. You could just walk over. You don’t have to camp out in my driveway anymore.”
This time, Ruth’s giggle was for my joke. When I’d first moved back to Honeytree, Eli had spent more than a couple nights sleeping in his car in front of my house to make sure I was safe—or that was his excuse, anyway. Ruth and I never let him live it down.
“The joke’s on you.” Eli winked at me. “I drove over to bring you this.” He went around to the back of the SUV and produced a large blue canvas bag.
I groaned. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yep—I heard a rumor you were planning a camping trip?”
I pursed my lips at Ruth, and she held up her hands in protest. “What? I didn’t say anything, I swear!”
Eli brought the tent up to the porch and set it down beside me. “Tambra told me, actually. She felt terrible that you might not be able to go without her tent, so I promised I’d loan you one.”
I nudged the canvas bag with my foot. “Great,” I said flatly. Why would I want to go out in the woods and pretend to be homeless when I had a perfectly good house in the middle of a perfectly good piece of nature?
“We can’t go anyway,” Ruth explained to Eli. “I have to watch the boys now. At least until their dad can come get them.”
“How long will that take?”
“Not sure. A week, maybe? But that’s only a guess. He hasn’t returned my call.”
Eli leaned against the porch post, looking unimpressed. “If they were my kids, I’d be here in a flash.”
“I doubt he even got my message yet.” Ruth shrugged helplessly. “He’s probably out on the boat. I’ll know more when he calls back. Until then, we just have to wait.”
“Why wait? You should just take the boys camping!” Eli said. “The tent is big enough. They’ll get a kick out of it.”
“I won’t,” I muttered.
Ruth turned to me, her eyes pleading. “Are you sure, Leona? I really need this, and if we don’t go now, I don’t know if I’ll have the time off to go later. I’m totally booked through August.”
“What about my flock?” I asked, gesturing to the dozens of birds milling around the orchard. Not to mention all the chicks I had brooding in the barn.
Eli’s face lit up. “I can watch them for you.”
I eyed him skeptically. Blueberry season had just begun, and already he was running into challenges with his honor-system U-pick stand. At least a half-dozen times already, pickers had come over to my house to make change. How was he going to manage his place plus my chickens plus his day job? “It’s a lot of work. You don’t even have time for your blueberries.”
“I’ll make time,” he said. “I have some PTO in the bank. I figure I’ll kick back on the porch, drink a couple beers, and play full-time farmer for a few days.”
Panic rose in my chest. This was a situation I didn’t need him to fix. Why couldn’t he just mind his own business and solve crimes instead of my problems? “What about Tambra? She’s just supposed to rot in jail while you take a staycation and we relax in nature?”
He rolled his eyes at me, and said to Ruth, “I don’t know why she puts us through this.”
“Every time.” Ruth shook her head, mock disappointment on her face. I glared at both of them. It was really unfair of them to gang up on me like this.
“The state police took over Tambra’s case,” Eli said. “And the county has plenty of deputies who can take over my patrols.”
“What about Boots? She sleeps next to me every night. I can’t leave her alone.” I swooped up the little red hen from where she was pecking hopefully at Eli’s boot laces and stroked her gently. She cooed and snuggled into my chest. At least somebody was loyal around here.
“I’ll sleep at your place to keep her company. You know I’ve always wanted to stay over.” Eli winked at me mischievously.
“Not gonna happen, buddy.” I tried to glare at him, but I couldn’t help cracking a grin. He really was irresistibly cute sometimes.
“Bring her!” Ruth said suddenly. “I mean, why not? People take their dogs camping. We’ll take a darn chicken.”
I looked down at Boots in my arms. She cocked her head to the side and stared at me with one beady eye, as if to say you’re out of excuses. I sighed.
“Fine. You got me. But only for one night.”
Chapter 10
July 6, Day 3, Wednesday
I spent the evening writing out a detailed list of instructions for Eli. Two lists, actually, one for the barn brooders and one for the main coop. I didn’t expect him to wash and sort eggs, but I did expect him to keep up the other routines, mostly so the laying hens wouldn’t have any further disruptions that could interfere with their egg production. Chickens hate change almost as much as I hate camping.
In the morning, Ruth brought the kids by and they disappeared into the barn to play with the chicks while we loaded all the camping gear into the back of the Suburban.
“I washed their clothes after they went to bed last night. So they’ve got the clean set they’re wearing, plus their swim trunks,” Ruth said as she moved a cooler from the front seat of her little car to the back of mine. “But they need clean undies and maybe sweatshirts or something warm. We’ll have to swing by Tambra’s house on our way out of town.”
“I doubt the cops will let us inside. Might be better to stop at Bi-Mart on the way to the lake and pick up a pack of new Underoos.”
“Since when are you Miss Moneybags?” Ruth smirked at me. “Eli’ll get us in, no problem.”
I sighed. I tried not to call him for every little thing, especially now that he lived next door. One, I liked my independence and two, he always said yes, even if what I needed was a pain in the—
“You ask him.” Ruth shoved her phone to my ear, and I heard Eli’s voice on the other end.
“Um—” I stammered.
“Leona?” Eli asked, sounding a little groggy. “Is that you?”
“Did we wake you?”
He chuckled. “Thought I might sleep in on my day off. Guess not.”
I winced. “Sorry...it’s just that we need to get into Tambra’s house to pick up clean clot
hes for the boys, and we were worried the state police might not let us in. Can you—”
“Escort you?”
“Or call and tell them we’re coming, at least?” I asked meekly.
“Will do. And I’ll be over to let your birds out shortly, I promise. I know you’re thinking that farmers shouldn’t sleep in, and you’re right about that. It was a one-time thing.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” I said, even though I was, sort of. I never slept in, but then again, I had the world’s most reliable alarm clock, Alarm Clock. Even if I wanted to sleep in, I couldn’t. I hung up and handed Ruth’s phone back to her. “It’s a go.”
“We got everything?” Ruth checked around us for any stray bags or camping gear.
“Almost.” I held up a finger and darted back inside for the grocery bag of chicken feed. I loaded them into the car and then called Boots to the porch by shaking a bag of mealworms. Tossing a few of them into the old cat carrier, I waited for her to hop in and make herself at home in the straw nest.
Boots chirruped and trilled delightedly as she scratched and pecked inside the carrier. She didn’t even seem to notice when I closed the door and locked her inside. I stowed her between the middle seats so that Ollie and Dylan would keep her company while Ruth went to fetch the boys so we could leave.
My phone buzzed in my purse. It was Eli.
“You’re good to go. State police released her house. They released your Porsche, too, by the way.”
Great, they were releasing my car right when I was headed out of town. I knew this camping trip was a bad idea. “My poor baby. She’ll have to sit in the high school parking lot until we get back.”
“I can pick it up for you and park it in the barn, if you want.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said automatically.
“What’s the matter? You don’t trust me to get her home safely? I promise, I drive slower than you do.” I could almost hear his grin through the phone.
“Everyone drives slower than I do. I just don’t want to put you out any more than I already have.” Between his farm, mine, and his day job, he was juggling enough things without playing valet, too.
“I see. So you’re afraid if I do you another favor, my chicken game might slip?”
I giggled. “Exactly!”
“You can trust me, Leona.” Eli’s voice was suddenly soft and serious. “Really—I won’t let you down.”
And somehow, in that moment, I believed him. I even felt good about camping for a hot minute, as Ruth and I were sailing into town with the car loaded up, the boys gleefully chattering to Boots in the back seat. That is, until we hit the Curves and my Suburban hit the skids.
It coughed every time I braked.
It sputtered every time I gave it a little gas.
About seven warning lights flared orange as we rolled into town.
“Well, that doesn’t seem good,” Ruth ventured. Understatement of the year.
“So much for camping,” I said. Behind me, the boys groaned with disappointment. I started looking around for where I could flip a U-Turn, but Ruth put her hand on my arm.
“We can take my car. Let’s pick up stuff for the boys and then we can move all the gear over.”
“It won’t fit!” I protested as I pulled into the sawmill parking lot. Ruth’s car had the tiniest cargo space ever. I don’t even know why they bothered putting a trunk on the thing. It was laughable. Even my Porsche’s “frunk” had more room than her car.
“Come on, all those Tetris skills you sharpened in college have to be good for something. We’ll squeeze everything in even if we have to leave Boots with Eli.”
I frowned at her. “I’d rather not.”
“Boots can ride on my lap!” Ollie piped up from the back seat.
“No, on my lap!” Dylan said indignantly and socked Ollie in the shoulder.
“Don’t hit,” I said, only half paying attention as I started to turn the car around.
“See? Boots can ride on their laps. We’ll make it work,” Ruth said smugly. “Camping is still on. Plus, we can drop your car off at the shop for Gary to fix while we’re at the lake, so it’s like killing two birds with one stone.”
“Why do you have to make so much sense?” I pulled out of the lot, willing the car to make it to Tambra’s duplex. Thankfully it limped the few blocks necessary before shuddering to a stop in the driveway. I was relieved to see that all the official vehicles that had swarmed the street yesterday were gone. Only a shred of police tape stuck to the mailbox gave an indication that any law enforcement activity had happened here.
I swiped it at the same time that I grabbed the mail and shoved it in my pocket before the boys could see it and start asking questions. But of course, they had questions anyway.
“Is Mom here?” Ollie squinted at me, shading his eyes from the morning sun with one hand.
“No, honey, she’s still on her trip.” Ruth answered from behind him, where she was extracting a front door key from the fake dog poop on the lawn. She brushed past me and unlocked the door, shooting me a meaningful look over her shoulder as she shepherded the boys to their room. “Come on, now. Show me where you keep your clean clothes.”
I waited until all three of them were in the bedroom and I heard the sounds of dresser drawers opening before I put down the mail and pulled out the piece of paper I’d swiped before. It was time to put it back.
The pageant rule book was still on the counter, right next to a copy of a search warrant. Underneath it, I could just see the title printed on the next page: Inventory of Evidence. I scanned it: they’d confiscated all kinds of stuff, including Tambra’s pink pistol and all her pageant files. Lucky for me, the state police didn’t think the rule book was relevant evidence. I carefully replaced Tambra’s report exactly where it’d been, between the pages explaining the comportment clause. Then, remembering both Ruth and I had handled the paper, I took it out again, wiped it off with a paper towel as thoroughly as I could, and put it back.
Did paper towels remove fingerprints? I used the edge of my nails to scoot the list of things taken into evidence out from underneath the search warrant.
Ruth emerged triumphant from the boys’ room with a stack of clean underwear in hand. I eyed it suspiciously. “Do you really think they need, what, eight pairs for one night?”
“You never know,” she said, pursing her lips primly. “There’s the lake, mud, spills...extra undies never hurt anyone. I always have a pair or two in my purse.”
I bit my tongue. Who was I to argue with purse panties? I held open the front door. “Let’s go, then.”
I picked up the newspaper from the porch on my way out, figuring it’d be good tinder for starting the campfire. Unfortunately, it didn’t help at all with starting the car. The Suburban refused to even turn over. I smacked the steering wheel in frustration.
“Dead battery?” Ruth asked.
“Shouldn’t be! I just had it checked.”
“Hm.” She sat there in the passenger seat a minute, staring at the dash while the boys squabbled in the back seat over which one of them Boots liked better.
“She likes you both equally,” I said to Ollie, who’d just played the “she looks at me more” card and made Dylan cry. “You’ll both have plenty of time to play with her at the lake.”
“If we even make it there. Maybe this trip really is a bust. By the time the tow truck comes all the way from Roseburg”—Ruth sighed heavily—“we’ll spend hours waiting around to camp for five minutes.”
“Maybe we don’t have to wait. At least, not for that long. I’ll be right back.” I jumped out of the Suburban and started jogging toward the high school.
Ruth rolled down her window. “Where are you going?” she called down the street after me.
“I’m getting us a ride!” I yelled back over my shoulder.
Chapter 11
A few short minutes later, I pulled my Porsche up behind the Suburban and popped the hood. Like I’d s
aid, my frunk had more cargo room than Ruth’s little car, anyway. Ollie’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he tumbled out of the Suburban’s back seat and saw me loading the camping gear into the front of my car.
“Where’s the engine?” he asked wonderingly.
“In the back. That’s why it’s so fast.” I wedged the tent into the deepest part of the cargo well. Ruth came around and started helping me, and in just a few minutes, we had all of the gear stored in the car. It was so tightly packed, I wasn’t sure we could replicate it on the way home, but that was a problem for tomorrow. For now, it fit. Dylan seemed unphased by riding with his knees pushed up to his chin by the cooler full of food under his feet. Boots rode in her carrier under Ollie’s feet, and neither of them seemed to mind, either.
“Convertible camping! I love it.” Ruth shook her head and closed her eyes as she leaned her head back, soaking up the summer sun as we hit the freeway and buzzed toward the lake.
I slipped on my sunglasses and settled back into the comfortable hug of the Porsche’s leather upholstery. A fiftieth-birthday present to myself, this car always felt like home. It was no wonder I hadn’t been able to give her up when I left the rest of my life behind in Beverly Hills and moved back to Honeytree. Of course, I never imagined I’d be taking her camping, either!
Ruth sat up sharply next to me. “Do you think the Suburban will be OK just sitting there in Tambra’s driveway?” She lowered her voice so I could barely hear it over the rushing wind and freeway sounds. “What if the police notice and have it towed?”
I shook my head and kept my eyes on the road. “I called Gary Edison. He said he’d have Terry drop by and take a look at it. Hopefully it’s just a loose connection again. If it’s something worse, they’ll take it to the shop.”
“Oh, phew.” Ruth leaned back in her seat again and turned up the radio. “I just want twenty-four hours to pretend this week didn’t happen.”
