Between a Book and a Hard Place

by Denise Swanson

  I also loved our little orchard. The fall apples wouldn’t be ready for another couple of weeks, but once they were, Gran would make her famous apple butter from the crisp and tart Jonathans.

  As I drove the final quarter mile through the white fir and blue spruce lining either side of the lane, instead of the usual feeling of peace that coming home typically brought to me, tension crawled across my shoulders. How would I break the news to Gran and Dad that Yvette was in Shadow Bend? Birdie would want to shoot her, but I wasn’t sure how my father would react.

  Would her being in town remind him of the bad times? When he was on trial, she’d refused to come to the courtroom to support him. Would he be upset that she was here with another man? If he still loved her, Jett’s presence would hurt like hell. Would Dad try to win her back?

  Yvette was no stranger to divorce. So already having a husband wouldn’t be much of an impediment. And if Dad and Mom did get back together, how would it be with her around all the time?

  • • •

  I found my father and grandmother in the living room. Before Dad’s return, I would have sworn that Birdie was more of a boilermaker type of gal, but having him home seemed to have calmed her, and they’d grown into the habit of having a bedtime milk shake together.

  Another change was Gran’s use of the Mondae Siren milk shake glasses she’d collected as a teenager. The horizontal ribs below the four optical bull’s-eyes were unique, and although I had begged to drink from them, they had always been for display only.

  Kissing Gran and Dad on the cheek, I took one of the goblets from the china cabinet, walked into the kitchen, picked up the blender jar, and poured the chocolate ice cream mixture into my glass.

  Returning to the living room, I sat beside Dad on the couch, put my feet on the coffee table, and asked, “Anything good on TV?”

  Without looking at me, his interest riveted to the television screen, Dad answered, “The Discovery Channel is playing a MythBusters marathon. Jessi, Tory, and Grant are attempting to test how long someone can hang by their fingers. Like they do in the movies.”

  Birdie sighed. She was more a fan of CSI and Justified. Turning my attention to her, I asked, “How are you doing, Gran?” She’d had a summer cold, and I was worried that it might turn into pneumonia.

  “Any day on this side of the flower bed, I consider a win.” She cackled, then said, “I thought Jake was coming over.”

  I explained that Meg’s crisis had terminated our evening plans. I didn’t mention that I’d originally agreed to meet Noah later. Birdie was not a fan of the good doctor. I might have forgiven him for how he’d treated me when we were teenagers, but she had not. And right now I was seriously ticked off at him and Boone for tricking me into attending the city council meeting, not to mention the fact that he’d texted me, canceling our date because of his mother.

  “Sweet Jesus!” Gran’s face folded up into an accordion of wrinkles. The deep summer tan she’d gotten working in the back garden made her look like a golden raisin. “Tony thinks Meg is faking.”

  Although Tony was our nearest neighbor, he had never socialized with us. But six months ago, when I was accused of murdering Noah’s fiancée, Gran had called him. She’d remembered that Tony’s great-nephew was a U.S. Marshal and that he was helping out his uncle on the ranch while recovering from an on-duty injury.

  When Jake had offered to look into the murder, he’d revealed that my grandmother and his great-uncle had dated when they were in high school. But Tony was a couple of years older, and while he was waiting for Gran to graduate, he’d enlisted in the marines. Then, near the end of the Korean War, he was reported MIA, and Birdie had married my grandfather. Which meant once Tony was rescued from the prisoner-of-war camp where he’d been held, things had been awkward between them.

  Now that Birdie and Tony had both lost their spouses and reconnected, they were courting again. And both of them were intent on me marrying Jake. Meg’s presence was throwing a monkey wrench into their plans, and neither senior citizen was happy about it.

  When I didn’t respond to her accusation about Meg, Gran said, “You need to do something about that woman and her shenanigans before she renews her title as Mrs. Jake Del Vecchio.”

  “Maybe Meg isn’t as emotionally disturbed as she seems, but there’s no way to prove something like that.” I chewed my thumbnail. “And I can’t really demand Jake abandon her without coming off like a total bitch.”

  “Hmm.” Gran reached down, swooped up her cat, Banshee, and plopped him on her lap.

  If I tried that trick with the ancient Siamese, I would have pulled back a bloody stump. Gran was the only one the feline allowed such liberties. He shot me a malevolent stare and settled across her knees.

  Dad was still engrossed in his television program, and I decided to wait for a commercial to announce that Mom was in town.

  Instead, I said to Gran, “I’m surprised you weren’t at the city council meeting.”

  “Kern didn’t want to go and so I decided to stay home, too.”

  Dad still wasn’t comfortable around large groups of Shadow Benders. He believed that not everyone was convinced he was innocent and that he had been set up for both the bank fraud and the accident.

  “Did you hear about the strange lights that have been sighted above our property?” I asked. “The mayor has brought in a UFO expert.”

  “That man makes an idiot look smart.” She snorted, flipping her long gray braid over one shoulder. “It’s not as if we’ve never had weird lights in the sky before. It usually turns out to be a kid shooting off illegal fireworks or a plane or something like that.”

  “True,” I agreed. “Somehow Hizzoner is going to make money from all this.”

  “Duh.” Gran rolled her pale blue eyes, then asked, “So what was Boone’s big mysterious . . . ah . . . mysterious . . .” She trailed off, her face getting red.

  “Philanthropic donation,” I supplied. Her doctor had said it was best to provide the word she couldn’t recall, rather than let her become stressed.

  “Right.” She shook her finger at me. “Get that worried look off your face. Lord a’ mercy. Just because I misplaced something or can’t come up with a word once in a while doesn’t mean I’m senile.”

  “I never said you were.” I held up my hands in mock surrender.

  Gran’s memory issues had improved dramatically with my father’s return, but she still occasionally had trouble recalling the exact word she wanted. And she wasn’t happy that I insisted she keep taking her medication and continue seeing the gerontologist. Thank goodness Dad was on my side and helped convince her.

  I glanced at the television. My father’s program had just gone to a commercial break. I had stalled long enough. This was my chance.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “Dad, can you turn off the TV for a minute?”

  “Sure.” Looking at me strangely, he clicked the remote. “What’s up?”

  “The big news from the city council meeting is that for the next three years, some rich guy has offered to fund the library.”

  Now came the tricky part. Dad and I were trying to adjust to our new relationship, and I wasn’t sure how to break the news about Mom and her husband to him. Half the time when I talked to him, I still felt like the sixteen-year-old I’d been when he went away. And the rest of the time, I felt like I was walking on eggshells because I hadn’t believed or supported my father during his trial and incarceration.

  “Holy crap on a cracker!” Gran asked. “Why would some stranger do that?”

  “He’s not actually a random visitor.” I hesitated, then took the plunge. “His name is Jett Benedict, and he’s Mom’s current husband.”

  “Sweet baby Jesus!” Gran leaped to her feet as if she were eight years old rather than nearly eighty. Banshee landed on the floor and ran screeching into the kitchen. Birdie smoot
hed the fabric of her purple sharkskin robe and tightened the sash. Her fashion sense was eclectic—one day she might dress like Doris Day in Tea for Two, the next like Ali MacGraw in Love Story.

  Dad ran his fingers through his short auburn hair. Strands of gray glinted in the lamplight. He smiled feebly at his mother, then at me, and said, “I guess I should have warned you that Yvette was coming to town.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Noah slammed through his front door and tossed his keys into the brass tray on the hall table. Lucky, the Chihuahua he’d inherited from his deceased fiancée, greeted him in the foyer. The look on Noah’s face must have scared the little dog, because instead of his usual barking and tail wagging, the Chihuahua dropped the loafer he’d been chomping on and retreated down the corridor.

  Feeling guilty for frightening Lucky, who normally would have never given up the shoe without a tug-of-war, Noah followed the pooch into the kitchen. After petting the Chihuahua and scratching behind his ears, Noah opened the back door so the little dog could relieve himself in the fenced-in yard.

  While Lucky did his business, Noah preheated the oven. As he waited for the Chihuahua to finish and come back inside, Noah closed his eyes and groaned. His mother was going to drive him over the edge.

  One day he wouldn’t show up for work, and when his clinic manager sent someone to check on him, they’d discover him building a castle from mashed potatoes. Or doing something else that was bat-shit crazy.

  Once Noah had removed Nadine from the city council meeting, he’d sent her home with her health aide, Beckham Janson. But just as Dev asked her question and Jett Benedict introduced his wife, Janson had texted Noah that his mother was trying to phone a Kansas City TV station to tell them about the UFOs.

  Which meant that instead of following Dev and explaining that he didn’t know St. Onge hadn’t told her that the library donor was her stepfather, Noah had been forced to deal with his own family crisis.

  After instructing Janson that under no circumstances was he to allow Nadine to contact the media, Noah had slipped out the conference room’s side entrance and hastily driven to his mother’s place. All he needed was the fourth estate getting wind of Nadine’s fixation on the threat of a close encounter of the third kind.

  It had taken Noah an hour to calm down his mother. She was convinced that an alien invasion was imminent and if they didn’t contact the government to shoot down the spaceships, everyone in Shadow Bend would either be abducted or assimilated.

  Finally, Noah had resorted to slipping an Ambien into his mother’s cup of hot chocolate. Her doctor had prescribed the mild sedative to treat Nadine’s insomnia, but she refused to take the medication. Knowing that zolpidem acts on the brain to produce a calming effect, Noah hoped that it would soothe his mother’s fears.

  Once she’d dozed off, Noah had made sure the security system was activated. Janson had assured Noah that he kept the receiver by his bed and was a light sleeper, so he would hear Nadine if she woke. Up until now the health aide’s main responsibilities had been to run errands and provide Nadine with company, but those duties seemed to be shifting. Noah just hoped the young man was able to handle the change.

  After letting Lucky back inside, Noah headed for the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and twisted off the cap. He chugged half the bottle of Coors Light, then set it on the counter and looked down. The Chihuahua sat patiently by his bowl, waiting for Noah to fill it with canned food and refresh his water dish.

  Once Noah had taken care of the dog’s needs, he got a pizza from the freezer and stuck it in the oven. He hadn’t had time to eat supper before the city council meeting and he was starving.

  He frowned. If Nadine hadn’t had her meltdown, he might be having a late dinner with Dev instead of a frozen pepperoni pie with only the Chihuahua for company.

  Just when Noah thought he’d gained an advantage on Del Vecchio in the contest for Dev’s affections, his mother pulled this new crap and he’d had to flake out on Dev. Deputy Dawg might be hindered by his ex-wife’s presence, but eventually she would recover and return to St. Louis. Nadine wasn’t going anywhere.

  When Noah had realized that he’d have to stay with Nadine until she fell asleep, he’d texted Dev that he’d had an emergency and couldn’t meet her. He hadn’t had a chance to check his phone since then. While he waited for his food to heat up, he pulled out his cell and looked at his messages.

  “Son of a bitch!” Noah’s roar startled Lucky, and the little dog growled before resuming his meal.

  Taking a calming breath, Noah reread Dev’s text. Shit! He’d been right. St. Onge hadn’t told Dev that her mother would be at the meeting, and she was blaming both Boone and Noah for the omission.

  Noah quickly tried phoning Dev, but she didn’t pick up, so he left a voice mail explaining that he’d thought St. Onge had informed her about Yvette’s presence. While he was at it, he sent her the same message via text.

  Glancing at his watch, Noah saw that it was after eleven. Dev was probably in bed, but just in case she wasn’t and she called back, he turned up the sound on his cell so he wouldn’t miss it.

  The timer dinged, and Noah grabbed a dish from the cabinet and a potholder from the drawer. He removed his dinner from the oven and slid it onto the waiting plate. After cutting it into wedges, he picked up a slice, blew on it, and took a big bite of cheesy goodness.

  When he was a child, his mother had never allowed processed foods in their house, and Noah’s craving for the forbidden fare hadn’t abated in the years he’d been on his own. As a doctor, he knew he should eat healthy, but this was his secret indulgence, and he wasn’t giving it up anytime soon.

  Savoring the rich tomato sauce and spicy pepperoni, Noah thought about how he would convince Dev that surprising her with her mother at the meeting had been St. Onge’s fault, not his. He had slowly been regaining her trust, and this could be a real setback.

  Had that been St. Onge’s plan all along? No. Dev’s BFF was too pissed about Del Vecchio’s ex-wife living with him to try to sabotage Noah’s relationship with her. So why hadn’t he told Dev about her mother?

  Noah finished his pizza, put the dishes in the sink, and then, too wound up to go to bed, he strolled into his den. Flopping down on the leather couch, he grabbed the remote. There was a commercial on, and as he waited for it to be over and The Late Late Show to return, he looked around the room.

  This was the only spot in his house that felt like home. When he’d bought the place two years ago, he’d allowed the decorator free rein. But after she’d finished and he’d written her a check for an obscene amount of money, he’d gradually added his own stuff to the den.

  He’d hired an interior designer because it had been simpler than fighting his mother. Noah had never liked conflict, and except in his role as a physician, when he was willing to fight for his patients, he prided himself on being an easygoing kind of guy. That was changing.

  Nadine’s reaction to his dating Dev had seen to that. There was no way he would allow his mother to get in his way. He loved Dev, and he would do everything in his power to convince her to marry him.

  Up until six months ago, he’d been drifting, doing what was expected of him. He hadn’t really been depressed, but neither had he been happy. He’d been numb. He’d settled into an engagement with a woman he didn’t love, but when her murder brought Dev back into his life, it was as if his heart had been jump-started.

  Dev was what he’d needed all along. And Noah wasn’t about to allow his mother, St. Onge, or Del Vecchio to snatch her away from him.

  Thinking about mothers made him wonder why Jett Benedict had made Dev’s presence at the city council meeting a condition for his funding the library. He could understand a man wanting to make his wife happy by reuniting her with her daughter. But from what Noah knew about her, Yvette Sinclair Benedict wasn’t the maternal type. So why did she want to see Dev so bad
ly?

  CHAPTER 6

  A couple of weeks had gone by since the big reveal at the city council. Boone and Noah were both still on my shit list for setting me up, and because of that I hadn’t spent more than a few minutes with either one of them. I was still debating Noah’s claim that he thought Boone had told me Yvette would be at the meeting. And Boone’s explanation that my presence had been Jett’s only additional stipulation to funding the library’s reopening, other than access to the archives, hadn’t mitigated my anger toward him or the feeling of betrayal.

  Adding to my discontent, Jake had been preoccupied with Meg’s recent setbacks, so I hadn’t seen much of him, either. Then, to top it all off, Mom had taken to popping into my store several times a day. I was having difficulty adjusting to her presence, and it was even more bizarre to see her and Dad together.

  When I confronted my father about his relationship with Yvette, he said he believed that if you harbored resentment, happiness had no place to dock. It had been all I could do not to roll my eyes at his hippie-dippie philosophy, but I’d kept my mouth shut and nodded without comment.

  Now I twisted the ends of my ponytail as I watched my mother and father cooing to each other near the Fall into Autumn display. The scarecrows guarding the pumpkins seemed to be smirking as Dad stared soulfully into Mom’s baby blues, all the while pretending to reposition the colorful paper leaves and bushel baskets.

  It would serve him right if he stepped on one of the rakes in the arrangement and it smacked him square in the face. Maybe that would wake him up to Mom’s manipulations and maneuverings.

  I was aware that when Dad had gotten out of prison a few months ago, my mother had written to him. But I was taken aback when he’d revealed that since then, she’d been calling and texting him regularly.

  I understood why he’d kept it a secret from Gran, but I was hurt that he hadn’t confided in me. Then again, who’s to say I would have been any more accepting of their renewed connection than Birdie?