by Gail Sattler
Stan looked up, his eyes narrowed. “This is making more sense. One thing my mother said to Victoria was, ‘How should I know? I’m his mother. He would never tell me stuff like that.’ I know exactly what I would and wouldn’t tell my mother about when I go out with a lady.” When he stopped talking, it was almost like she could see the gears whirring in his head.
“Sarah was trying to get me to spill details, but I didn’t. She told me not to worry, that the pool didn’t happen because she refused to be the reliable source of information they needed to confirm the exact details. In not so many words.”
Stan stiffened, and she felt it all the way down to his hands that still held hers. “I can only think of one detail from Friday that those nosy busy-bodies would want to know.”
Memories of Winnie standing in the foyer on Sunday danced through her mind.
A movement of the curtains from Caroline’s house caught Amber’s eye. “Settle down. I think Caroline is watching us from inside the house.”
He stiffened even more. “Then let them put this in their betting pool,” he said between his teeth. He dropped her hands, cupped her face, bent toward her, planted a quick kiss right on her mouth, and backed up.
Amber didn’t have time to close her eyes. She didn’t even have time to blink, it was done and over so fast.
Stan didn’t drop his hands, but his expression softened as he continued to look at her. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have been like that. It should be like this.” His eyes drifted shut, he tilted his head, and bent slowly.
This time Amber closed her eyes.
He kissed her softly, lingering just a few seconds with a kiss that was very sweet, but chaste.
This time, when he pulled away, he released her face, grabbed one hand with one of his, grabbed the envelope with his other, and stood, pulling her up with him. “I don’t want an audience for this. Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Thirty
The closer they got to Amber’s house, the higher the wall he felt go up between them. By the time he pulled into her driveway, the wall was up to the ceiling of the truck. Since it was a big truck, it was a high wall.
As he turned off the ignition and reached to open his door, Amber snapped at him. “What was that all about? What were you thinking?”
The trouble was, he hadn’t been thinking. Or, he’d been thinking too much. All thought processes stalled when he learned that everyone was sticking their noses where they didn’t belong, with the end result being a betting pool. He’d noticed Caroline watching them, making him remember Winnie waiting like a turkey vulture outside the sanctuary on Sunday.
It was like all the thoughts got tumbled into a paper sack and shaken. His brain backfired, something snapped, and all he could think to do was kiss Amber. Of course, he’d been thinking of kissing Amber multiple times a day since last Friday, and that had been the spark that broke the camel’s back, or something like that. Because it was a spark. A spark that had ignited him into action.
Hayden was right, added to the fact that the garden club execs had made his love life, or lack thereof, their latest point of interest. It was time to make it clear to Amber that they needed to stop coasting through life, get serious, and get married.
He ran his fingers through his hair instead of opening the door. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Do I owe you an apology?”
While he waited for her to say something, anything, his stomach flopped like a fish on dry land, and he had to tell himself to breathe because, like that fish, he couldn’t find air.
First her stiff posture relaxed, just a little, then her brows unknotted, the tight glare in her eyes went to normal, and she sighed. “No. You don’t owe me an apology.”
If it wasn’t his imagination, the sunset just turned prettier.
He grinned, hoping he didn’t look like an eager puppy, then not caring if he did. “Then will you kiss me again? Nobody’s watching, this time.” Hoping she wouldn’t smack him in the head with the map that was scrunched between the seats, he closed his eyes, leaned toward her, puckered up, and waited for the best. Or worst.
Not opening his eyes, he heard her sigh like she was annoyed, so he waited for the smack.
Time lingered, but he didn’t move. He heard the rustle of the map getting pulled out from between the seats and tried not to cringe, but he remained motionless, eyes closed, puckered up, still waiting for the best.
He was as bad as a dumb dog about to be beaten, but unrealistically hoping for a pat.
At the same time, he felt a very light tap on the top of his head, and Amber’s warm lips pressed into his with a comical smacking sound, then it was over.
He grinned and opened his eyes.
She grinned back at him. “Gotcha,” she said at the same time as she tapped him on the head again.
His heart did a stupid little dance in his chest. There was hope.
They both straightened at the same time, and sat back in their seats.
This time, it was Amber who reached for the door handle. “I’m going in. Do not follow me. I mean it.”
His optimism faded. “But we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“I think I might have an idea, and talking is best done over coffee and donuts.”
“I don’t have any donuts.”
He reached behind the seat and pulled the box of donuts he’d bought at Dunkin’ Donuts on his way to pick her up. “I do,” he said, unable to hold back his grin. “Now you can’t say no.”
She sighed. He knew the way to Amber’s heart was through donuts. The ones with the multicolored candy sprinkles on top. Just in case, he popped the box open to show her that he had three of her favorite kind, and three of his. While holding the box with one hand, he reached behind the seat for the second box. “I bought Munchkins too. The chocolate ones.” He shook the box slightly, so she could hear them rolling.
She sighed again, but he knew he’d won.
Boxes in hand, he followed her to the door and waited for her to unlock it, even though he had his own key to her place, just in case she lost her own. Not that she had, and come to think of it, the only time he’d ever used it was last Friday, when he locked her door on his way out. She had a key to his house that she’d never used either.
She also had a key to his truck. He should have realized then, the day he bought the truck, his pride and joy, that when he gave her the spare key, he’d also given her the key to his heart.
That was two years ago. What a sap he was.
Fortunately she didn’t see him smiling as he followed her inside.
While she started making the coffee, he got out the cups, put out plates for the donuts, and pulled the new envelope out of his back pocket.
“I don’t know why we should even bother with the new note. It’s not going to tell us anything,” she said.
“No, but I know what might tell us something.”
He could see her interest perked. “What?”
“Not what. Who. My mother.”
“Do you think she knows who is doing this?”
“No, but I think she can help flush him or her out. You know how she loves to talk. I told you how I caught her talking to Victoria. We know the garden club is talking about us, so let’s also get them talking about how we’re trying to find who’s dressing up Gnorman and moving him around. If we tell my mother what we think, then she’ll tell someone else, and soon the whole garden club will talk about it. Whoever is doing this is bound to mess up, and then the whole garden club will be talking about that, it will come back to my mother, and she’ll tell me.”
“In a skewed way, that almost sounds like a good idea. Give me one of those donuts and I’ll think about it some more.”
“The coffee isn’t ready yet.”
She
sent him a dirty look cold enough to freeze steel. He caved and pushed the whole box to her. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”
She bit into the donut, closed her eyes, and chewed slowly. “It’s getting better. Pass me the Munchkins.”
He’d give her the whole box if that made her agree. Actually, he’d planned to give her the whole box anyway.
“Okay. Let’s tell your mother. She told everyone about the hidden camera, and the Gnapper obviously heard about it soon enough to cover the camera when he or she moved Gnorman out of your parents’ yard. Let’s see if it works. I suppose we don’t have anything to lose.”
While she enjoyed her second donut, Stan poured the coffee, added cream and sugar to his, double cream to hers, brought both cups to the table, and picked up the envelope. “Time to open it?”
“Sure. You can do it. My fingers are full of icing.”
He tore open the envelope and spread the new note on the table. Just like all previous ones, it was made of cutout letters and words from the Gazette.
I have come like a thief in the night
But I don’t mean to give you a fright
I may be sneaky
And even cheeky
Don’t you love the notes I write?
They both stared at the note, unable to come up with a single comment.
As far as Stan saw, this was the worst one yet. It didn’t mention the trophy, it didn’t give a hint or clue, nor did it use any identifiable wording or phrases. The only thing it did was match the costume, which was no help at all.
Amber turned her head and faced him, both cheeks bulging like a squirrel. She lost focus on him for a second as she glanced at something over his shoulder, then her eyes widened, the color faded in her face, and she stopped chewing.
He turned and looked to see what was behind him and saw her calendar on the wall, with the date a week from today circled in red.
He turned back to her. “What’s the matter?”
She swallowed hard, and her eyes went glassy. “I guess I pushed it out of my mind. We have exactly one week to find the trophy. That day I circled is the day that my membership comes up for renewal. What if telling your mother doesn’t work?”
“Then we’ll find another way. I wish you wouldn’t worry about this so much. They’re not going to kick you out of the garden club.”
“But they kicked a lady out last year whose garden was better than mine. Even if they don’t kick me out, I have to be in their good books. I need their loyalty so they’ll keep buying the First Bud ornaments from me, and so that all the members will come into my store first when they want something different for their gardens. I really need their business. I don’t want to give anyone any reason to check out that new lady’s store.”
“So what if they do? Your stuff is better. It’s got character. You also honor a guarantee, not like all that cheap stuff made overseas.” He closed the box to the donuts and stood. “I think there’s no time like the present. Since you’re so stressed about all this, and you’re worried that we’re getting short on time, let’s go visit my mother right now. I know she’ll help. Besides, she loves to talk to people, and this will give her more inside information to talk about.”
Amber stood. “Okay.”
The drive to his parents’ home was pretty much in silence, but that gave Stan time to think about what he was going to say to his mother. He didn’t want to call her a gossip; after all, he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Not that she really gossiped. She just found it hard not to share information. So he’d give her so much information she couldn’t not share.
Since it was so late and he didn’t want to scare his parents by barging in unexpected, Stan stood at the door with Amber and knocked. While he waited, because he thought Amber could use something to boost her sagging spirits, he slipped one arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be okay. This will work. You just see. You know my mother. She loves to talk.”
Just as he gave her another squeeze, his mother opened the door. Her gaze zoomed in on his arm around Amber’s shoulders. Her mouth nearly dropped open, she closed it, cleared her throat, and backed up. “Frank!” she called over her shoulder. “Stan’s here! With Amber!”
Stan stepped in with Amber and closed the door behind them.
“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here at this hour?”
Stan tried to smile, but Amber’s somberness seemed to be rubbing off on him. “We need to talk to you about something.”
His mother backed up even more. “Come in, come in.” She guided them into the living room and pointed to the couch, obvious about expecting them to sit together, which Stan didn’t mind at all.
His parents sat on the loveseat, kitty-corner from them, with his mother on the edge of her seat leaning forward, her hands clasped on her knees, smiling ear to ear, which Stan thought odd. “Yes?”
“We need your help.”
Her smile quivered a little. “With what?”
“Amber’s really worried about The Spring Fling trophy. We really thought that the Gnapper would have given up and returned it by now, but he or she hasn’t. We need your help trying to find out who it is.”
His mother’s smile faltered, and she leaned back in the seat. “Gnapper?”
“That’s what we’ve been calling the person who’s been moving Gnorman around. The Gnome Gnapper. We’d like your help catching him or her.”
“Oh.”
Beside him, he felt Amber stiffen. Since the conversation wasn’t quite as encouraging as he’d hoped, and she was feeling it, too, he reached out and grasped her hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, and didn’t let go. “This is really important to us.”
At his word us, his mother quirked one eyebrow. “I suppose I could, but what can I do?”
“It’s got to be someone in the garden club, and we’ve got a couple of good clues. The best one is that the Gnapper can’t spell clandestine. It was in one of the notes spelled with an I instead of an E in the middle. We were wondering if you could ask around the garden club and find out who spells it wrong. It’s not something either of us can bring up in a normal conversation.”
“Clandestine? What kind of word is that to use?”
“When Gnorman was moved to Pamela’s yard, he was dressed as a spy. Every note he comes with seems to reflect the newest costume.”
“Really? Where did he come from before that, and what was he wearing?”
Stan turned to Amber. “I’m not sure, do you remember?”
Amber nodded. “Yes. Before that, he came from Victoria and Barry’s place. That time he was dressed as a ghost. The poem for that one was probably the worst of all of them.” Amber made a weak smile, and turned to his mother. “All the notes have been pretty awful, so we know the Gnapper can’t be Lynn because she’s a teacher and would never write like that.”
“Let me get this straight. You want me to ask people in the garden club how to spell clandestine, and see who spells it wrong?”
“Pretty much.”
“I have no idea how to work that into a conversation, but I guess I’ll think of a way.”
Stan grinned. “If anyone can do it, I know you can. I think—” His sentence was cut off from the vibration of his cell phone in his pocket. He pulled it out to see that Hayden had texted him. Just as he hit the button to read it, the phone went dead.
He turned to Amber. “I have no idea what Hayden wants, but it must be important if he’s texting me now. Do you have your charger in your purse?”
Amber rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. You know that.”
He grinned wider. “It was a redundant question.”
He waited for her to dig through her purse. When she handed the charger to him, he plugged it in and connected his phone.
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His mother tilted her head and stared at him while he called up Hayden’s message. “Do you two have the same kind of cell phone?”
“Yeah. They had a sale if you bought two, so we took advantage of it. Hayden wants to know if he forgot his sunglasses at my house, but he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. It was dark by the time he got to my place.” He turned to Amber. “You didn’t see Hayden’s sunglasses at my house, did you?”
She shook her head.
Stan punched in a reply for Hayden to check behind the visor in his car, hit Send, and put the phone down on the coffee table to let it charge for a bit.
His mother stood. “Would you two like a cup of tea? I still have some left.”
He didn’t want to, but he would stay if Amber did. Although he doubted she would because there was still one of the donuts with sprinkles on top that she hadn’t eaten.
“I’d love a cup of tea. Thank you.”
So much for that. He released her hand, and she followed his mother into the kitchen.
When they were gone from the room and he couldn’t see them anymore, his father spoke. “How’s things going between you and Amber? A few people have been asking.”
Stan gritted his teeth. “Sorry, Dad, but I hate being fodder for the rumor mill in the garden club.”
His father leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “They’re not gossiping. They’re concerned. Those people in the garden club, they’re your friends. I know some are closer than others, but they only want to see you and Amber happy. Besides, this isn’t them asking, it’s me.”
Stan only saw sincerity in his father’s face. “Things are going better, but not where I want them to be. Let’s just say I have to work on a few more things.”
“That’s good. Your mother and I only want to see you happy.”
“Yeah. And have grandchildren.”
His father grinned. “That, too.”
Fortunately his mother and Amber returned, closing the door on that topic. The conversation drifted to easier and less personal subjects until the phone rang, giving Stan a cue to leave.
