“A little shorter this time,” Ma told her after she got settled in the styling chair. “Summer is right around the corner, and a shorter cut will be cooler if the air conditioner at my shop goes on the blink again.”
“Oh, let’s hope not,” Crystal said, trying to sound normal. It was difficult to make her mind focus. “How much shorter? I’m thinking about an inch. I can always take off more if it doesn’t suit you, but I can’t glue it back on.”
“Smart thinking.” Ma smiled as Crystal began cutting. Then her expression became pensive. “What’s wrong, honey? You’re as pale as milk.”
“I’m fine, Ma. Just feeling a little off this morning.”
“Have you and Tuck patched things up yet?”
The question slammed into Crystal’s stomach, which already ached. She couldn’t believe how quickly gossip traveled in this town. Only her techs knew firsthand about the spat she’d had with Tuck, but somehow word had spread.
Ma was one of the few individuals Crystal didn’t mind knowing her personal business. She was a delightful lady, one of the community’s beloved matriarchs. Back when Crystal had lived in the flat above the salon, she had eaten frequently at the Cauldron and gotten to know Ma there. Despite their age difference, they’d become friends.
“No, I’m afraid not,” she confessed. “I saw him this morning, and he’s still very angry with me.” She stepped over to draw the privacy curtain, which she seldom used. In a lower voice, she said, “I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me.” Her voice went thin and squeaky on those last words. “And he’s all I have left.”
Following Crystal’s lead, Ma spoke softly, too. “Oh, honey, he hasn’t stopped loving you. He’s just mad. He’ll come around soon.” A tiny frown pleated her forehead. “I have a possibly difficult question for you. Do you feel you were within your rights to side against your grandfather with the administrator of the living center?”
“I didn’t side against him. Patricia forced me to file the complaint. If I didn’t, she said she’d evict him. And she lied, but that’s a long story. He’s in no condition to stay alone at my place. I doubt he could even cook or make a sandwich without getting the lining of his cast wet.” She paused with the scissors hovering above strands of Ma’s blond hair. “That isn’t all Tuck’s mad at me about, though. I grabbed his cell phone and looked at all his calls, messages, and emails to find out who brought him the contraband. And then I found the Courier Express box. The rest was pretty simple detective work.”
“You searched his phone?”
Ma’s tone held a note of censure, and Crystal met her gaze in the mirror. “Normally I’d never do that,” she explained. “It just sort of happened. I didn’t mean to invade his privacy. He led me to think he ordered the stuff, and I hoped to find a copy of the invoice so I could derail Patricia. I couldn’t just let him be kicked out on the street when I had no other place to take him.”
“No wonder Tuck is in a snit. He realizes you still don’t understand his side of it.”
“Oh, I understand. He skinned me alive with words this morning, so I totally understand now. I invaded his privacy. I used my youth and agility to outmaneuver him when I grabbed his phone and he tried to take it back. He reminded me of when he was the strong one and I was only a little girl. He never once used his physical advantage against me. He never once invaded my privacy.” Tears burned like acid in her eyes. “When I grabbed his phone, I did invade his. I had no right to do that. Then, using the information I found, I ratted out his friend and caused trouble for him at work. I was wrong, Ma, so very wrong. But no matter what I say, Tuck refuses to forgive me. I love him so much. I want to make things right between us again. Only, saying I’m sorry doesn’t seem to be enough.”
“Did you say all that to him?”
“No, not all of it. Hardly any of it. I didn’t get a chance. He’s been so angry that he doesn’t let me say a whole lot, and I get tongue-tied. If I say something, it’s usually the wrong thing. I wish I could go back and do everything differently. I wouldn’t touch his phone. And I would defy Patricia Flintlock and tell her to shove all her rules where they’d never again see sunlight. I’d just pack up some of Tuck’s clothes and take him home. Give him my bed. Reschedule appointments to take time off from work to care for him. I would. I swear. He’s the most important thing in the world to me.”
Ma reached back to pat Crystal’s arm. “I think he knows that, but maybe, in order to get over his anger, he needs to hear you say all this to him.”
“He won’t listen.”
“Don’t give him a choice.” Ma stared at her half-shorn locks. “Finish my hair. Your hands are shaking, so if it’s not right, I’ll come back for a redo, no charge. While you’re working, let me tell you my story. I didn’t stand up to Patricia Flintlock, either, until it was almost too late. So I probably understand what went on better than anyone else can.”
“You’ve dealt with her?”
She grimaced. “No, I failed to deal with her. And to this day, I still feel guilty about that.”
Crystal nodded. “She’s impossible, isn’t she?”
“She’s puredee old mean. That’s what she is.”
Trying to keep her hands steady, Crystal resumed her work with the scissors while her friend talked.
“My husband, Bob, died of cancer,” she began. “He passed away before you opened the salon here, so you never met him. But he was a kind and wonderful man. About six months before he died, he grew very weak. He could no longer move from his wheelchair to the commode, or to his recliner, or into bed. He also became incontinent. Even reduced to little more than skin and bones, he was too big a man for me to lift, and I decided I had no choice but to put him in assisted living. They have a patient hoist there, and the attendants work together to transfer residents. I thought it would be a good place for him. Only it wasn’t. Before I made the decision to take him there, I didn’t know Patricia or how vicious she can be.
“Bob loved his whiskey. It was his preferred painkiller and tranquilizer, and at home I always kept his glass full. The doctor authorized it. He said my husband should be allowed to escape the pain and anxiety in whatever way worked best for him. There was no concern about Bob developing health problems if he overindulged. He was already dying, so depriving him of anything that made his final days more bearable would have been ridiculous.”
Crystal ran her hands through her friend’s hair, checking for evenness. “Oh, Ma, that must have been so horrible for you.” She couldn’t imagine watching Tuck, sick and in pain, losing ground. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was far more horrible for Bob. When I got him into the assisted living center, my job became so much easier, and I knew he was kept cleaner and more comfortable. Soiled bedding was quickly changed. He got sponge baths right away if he had an accident. But when Patricia found out his medication of choice was alcohol, she went ballistic and threatened to evict him. My only alternative was to get his liquor out of there, or I would have had only twenty-four hours to take him somewhere else.”
Crystal cringed. “Did you do it? Take his liquor away, I mean.”
“Yes. The situation seemed impossible to me. I couldn’t afford to hire in-home attendants. A simple patient lift cost a fortune and our insurance wouldn’t cover it. There was no other assisted living facility here in town, and I liked spending days and evenings with him. I knew that if I transferred him to another place in Crystal Falls, the driving distance would shorten the time I could be with him. It’s a long, icy drive in the winter, and I knew storms might sometimes prevent me from making the trip at all.”
“So you caved, just like I did, or sort of, anyway.”
“Yes, I caved. I took the liquor home. Bob was miserable. The doctor prescribed pain medication and tranquilizers for him, but they made him sick to his stomach. I toughed it out for a month—or maybe I should say I made Bob tough i
t out. At some point during that time he started refusing to take the medication. In the end I decided to take him home. We had some savings, not much, but some. I bought a lift, and I hired help, and he could have all the whiskey he wanted during the last month of his life. He was at peace. He died with a glass of booze on the bedside table.”
“You did the right thing,” Crystal said softly.
“Yes. I was not only broke, but in debt by the time it was over. The cost of in-home care was astronomical. All my credit cards were maxed, and I’d gotten new ones so I could max them out, too. But none of that mattered, not really. My only regret was that I didn’t get him out of there sooner. Why didn’t I try to hide his whiskey? Why didn’t I hire a lawyer and battle it out with Patricia? I don’t think she can legally evict people without more notice. And technically, Bob rented his apartment, so what he did inside those walls should have been nobody’s business as long as his doctor was on board. By the time I found the courage to do what needed doing, Bob had been miserable for a whole month, and he didn’t have that much time left.”
Tuck was eighty. He didn’t have that much time left, either. The thought made Crystal’s legs go weak. “I hear what you’re saying, but how can I win a battle against Patricia Flintlock?”
“At least the situation is temporary, Crystal. It won’t be that long before your grandfather can go home. Until then, do your best to outsmart the witch. Show your grandfather that you’re on his side.”
“By breaking her stupid rules? She’ll retaliate.”
“Not if she doesn’t know.” Ma grinned. “You’re a bright young woman. You can find ways to work around her.”
“She may evict him if we get caught.”
“Possibly. Get a lawyer. I highly recommend Ramsey or Sullivan in town. Both of them are good advocates for the elderly. Get one of them on retainer so he’ll be ready to go to bat for your grandfather at the drop of a hat. And remember something. The concept of assisted living came into being so that oldsters can have a home away from home where they can live much as they always have. Do you think Patricia is allowing Tuck to do that? Do you think his habits would bother other residents? It isn’t cheap to stay there. Do you feel that he’s happy or getting his money’s worth?”
Crystal’s answer to all of Ma’s questions was a resounding no, and the older woman had given her a lot to think about. Just then her phone rang. When she grabbed it off her station cabinet, she saw that it was Tuck calling her. She dropped the phone as if it burned her. If he yelled at her again, she’d totally lose it. And she was in a public place. Her brain froze when he raised his voice to her in anger, probably because he’d never done it while she was growing up. The next time they spoke, she needed to have rehearsed her lines so many times she wouldn’t flounder. Only, what if he’s calling about something urgent? She nixed that thought. Someone at the facility would call if Tuck needed her.
* * *
Tanner had forgotten what it was like to memorize a new delivery route. Mystic Creek was particularly challenging because it was surrounded by curvy, unpaved roads. It was also difficult to read the addresses of houses that sat way back on parcels of land. Some homeowners had house numbers on reflective green signs at the end of the driveway. Others didn’t. Is that the right house? He’d asked himself that question at least a hundred times already, and his workday wasn’t even half over. He was behind schedule and had a headache. His little girl was performing in the school play that night. He couldn’t miss seeing that. His mom planned to go early so she could paint black circles around Tori’s eyes, a dot on the end of her nose, and whiskers on her cheeks. She was even taking the glue gun in case the costume they had created last night needed repairs.
Tanner finally found the house he’d been looking for and pulled up in front of a hurricane fence. In a hurry, he didn’t bother to read the name of the recipient as he lugged the large parcel to a chain-link gate that bore a long note in a sheet protector. Dog instructions. People always seemed to think their dogs had special quirks that no other canine possessed. Well, Tanner knew the drill and carried three biscuits in his uniform pocket, one to bribe his way in, another to afford him safe passage to the porch, and a final offering to exit the yard safely. He’d only ever met one dog that demanded four biscuits. That had been Rip, Tuck’s blue heeler, who went ballistic over Tanner’s uniform and calmed down only after Tanner mollified him with treats.
Tanner saw no dog and hurried through the gate, latching it behind him. No hassle with this delivery, he thought. But when he was halfway to the porch, he heard a low growl. He turned to see a familiar-looking blue heeler. Nah, he assured himself. It can’t be Rip. God forbid, because I’m carrying only three biscuits, and that damned dog can count. He shrugged the suspicion off. Most blue heelers looked alike.
Tanner doled out the first biscuit. Then he gave the dog a second one to gain the porch. He knew he was in trouble when he tried to descend the steps. The dog lunged at him, snarled, and bared its teeth.
“Rip?” Tanner stared at the dog. “Please tell me it’s not you.”
But the dog was telling him just the opposite. Tanner glanced at the last biscuit in his hand. If this was Rip, Tanner would need another one to get safely out the gate. With Rip, it was either four biscuits or bloodletting. Well, Tuck swore the dog didn’t really bite. He only pinched with his front teeth. Tanner didn’t find that difference very comforting.
He stood on the bottom stair and slowly eased one foot toward the ground. The cattle dog lunged at his leg. Tanner jerked his boot back onto the step. “Damn it. Just my luck. You are Rip. That means I’m in deep shit.” He couldn’t believe this was Tuck’s place. Correction. He knew Tuck had purchased a mini farm somewhere outside the Mystic Creek city limits and that his granddaughter was living there with Tuck’s dog. But how likely was it that this was the house and that Crystal had ordered something to be delivered the second day of his new assignment? Pretty damned likely, he decided. It was a small town.
Tanner clenched the one remaining biscuit in his fist and tried to think of a plan, until his sweaty palm started to soften the crusty bone-shaped treat. He studied the dog. The trick would be to outsmart Rip. That shouldn’t be hard to do, Tanner decided. Man against dog. His IQ had to be much higher.
“Okay,” he said in a friendly voice. “I know you remember me, and somewhere along the way, we became pals. Remember that, Rip?” He paused as if he expected a response, and felt like an idiot. “Right. You don’t talk. So, do you see the biscuit?” Tanner waggled it in the air well above the dog’s leaping reach. “Yum. It’ll be so good. And I’m going to give it to you with one little catch. Are you ready?” He did a figure eight with the biscuit. Rip bounced around with a greedy expression on his face. “I’m going to throw it. And when you run to get it, I’m going to haul ass for that gate. It’s only about five feet tall. I’m a lot taller than you, and I can vault over it. So, here you go!”
Tanner threw the biscuit, and while Rip tore after it, Tanner burst into a run, covering four feet with his starting leap. The gate. It was only ten yards away. He could make it. He took long strides and pumped his arms for speed. No worries. He’d been a champion runner in track. Only, something collided with his knee. He felt sharp teeth graze his calf. The next second he was jumping around the yard with Rip attached to his pant leg. He tried to shake the dog loose, but within an instant, he wasn’t sure who was shaking whom.
“Son of a bitch! You little bastard.” Tanner headed back for the porch, dragging the dog along with him, his right leg weighted down behind him. As he gained the steps, he felt his pant leg rip just above the knee, and then in a frenzy, Rip shook it ferociously to pull it off over Tanner’s boot. Score for man, zero. Score for canine, one. Huffing for breath, Tanner sank onto the porch steps. As long as he didn’t leave this spot, he knew he was safe. Rip knew the rules of the game. He should, Tanner thought. He created it.
>
Tanner stared at his van. His cell phone was inside, perched on the sticky pad he kept on the dash. Oh, how Tanner wished he had carried the communication device with him. He could call for help. The county sheriff’s office would work. Or to keep Rip off the cop radar, he could call Tuck, who would notify Crystal. But as it stood, Tanner was stuck.
Rip kept guard at the bottom of the steps. A look of sheer canine delight shone on his face. Tanner had gotten to know the dog while visiting Tuck. He knew Rip wasn’t inherently vicious. He just had quirks, one of which was a hatred of uniforms. This was a game to the heeler, nothing more. A stranger in civilian clothes could enter the yard without a challenge.
“Okay,” Tanner said. “Here’s the deal. My little girl, Tori, has a play tonight. I’m running late, and I don’t want to miss her performance. I know you like to charge a toll for safe passage, but I’m out of biscuits. So what else would you accept as payment?”
The blue heeler ducked his head, grabbed the torn-off part of Tanner’s uniform pants, and gave it a vicious shake. An idea began to germinate in Tanner’s brain and he smiled.
“You want to tear apart every uniform you see. Don’t you? I don’t think it’s so much the people wearing them that you detest. What if I gave you my shirt to destroy? Would that entertain you long enough for me to make a run for it?”
Rip knew when he was being spoken to, and he barked. The dog’s intelligence unnerved Tanner a bit. He decided to think through his tactical maneuvers before he settled on a plan. It was expensive to replace a uniform shirt. Maybe he’d be smarter to sacrifice the already-destroyed pants. On the other hand, the front door was only a few feet behind where he sat. Could he reach it, let himself in, slam it closed, and then find a phone?
Only, what if there was no phone? Tanner knew Tuck would insist on having a landline when and if he got to come home, but Crystal was far younger and a member of the cellular-communication age. Tanner paid for a landline because he had kids, but she was single. She probably hadn’t coughed up the bucks for a wired phone. Most people her age—and his—figured it was a waste of money. Still, since it was Tuck’s house, she might have sprung for a landline.
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