by Jeff Shelby
Aidan took one look at Kelly’s retreating back and broke into a run.
“Stop, thief!” Billie’s voice rang out loud and clear.
I could barely see her through the pain I was feeling and the tiny river of blood spilling down my forehead. I squinted, trying to bring her into focus. What was she doing?
Billie was on her feet, her hands gripping tight to her walker. She moved toward the front door and I shook my head. “No,” I mouthed. I didn’t want her to get mowed over.
But she stopped a few feet away from the door. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and then shoved hard on the walker, pushing it away from herself. She swayed on her feet, watching as the walker sailed toward the front doors—and directly into the fleeing woman’s path.
Kelly plowed right into the walker, her foot getting tangled in its legs. She crashed to the ground with the walker landing on top of her.
I somehow managed to get myself upright and staggered over to Kelly. She’d been slowed but there was nothing preventing her from scrambling to her feet and once again bolting toward the door. Just me.
Aidan beat me to it. He put his foot on the walker, pinning it to her midsection. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said grimly.
She squirmed, trying to get herself free, but Aidan held firm.
With Kelly subdued, I reached for Billie instead. She was still unsteady, swaying from side to side, and I put my arm around her.
“That was a brave thing you just did,” I said to her, wincing through the pain throbbing in my forehead.
She shrugged. “Figured that walker might come in handy someday. Looks like today was the day.” She looked at me critically. “You need a doctor.”
Tentatively, I touched my forehead. My fingers came away drenched. No wonder I was feeling a little lightheaded.
“I’ll be fine,” I murmured. “I just need to sit down.”
I walked to the couch with my arm still around Billie, intent on making sure I didn’t abandon her in the middle of the room without something sturdy to hold on to.
Not that I probably qualified as sturdy in that moment.
I got her to the couch and then dropped down beside her.
I closed my eyes but not before I saw Denise rushing toward me, a wet washcloth in her hand. “What in the world happened to you?” she asked.
I didn’t answer and I didn’t open my eyes; at least not until June spoke.
“You were right,” she said.
I forced my eyes open.
She held a small amber bottle in her hand with the label facing toward me. “This was in Kelly’s drawer. And it belongs to me.”
THIRTY TWO
Less than twenty-four hours later, I was sitting in Anne’s office, going over last-minute details for the big corporate visit. She was having a minor heart attack over the details, and I was doing my best to pay attention and jot down notes, even though my head felt like it was caught in a vise.
Anne looked up at me from the pad of paper where she was furiously scribbling notes. “Can you wear your hair a different way tomorrow?”
My hand flew to my hair. “What?”
“Maybe get bangs or something?” she suggested.
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
She pointed a finger at the stitches on my forehead. “Those. They are hideous.”
“I’m sorry?” I said. “It’s not like I intended to have a stapler thrown at my head.”
Her expression suggested that, despite this point, she still thought I was partly to blame. “The last thing we need is for you to have to explain what happened when corporate comes tomorrow.” She sighed. “Are you sure you don’t have time to go get a quick haircut? Maybe tonight after work?”
“I am not cutting my hair,” I said firmly.
She scowled.
“I’m sure it won’t even come up,” I said, trying to offer her assurances. “And if it does, I’ll…I’ll lie.”
She stared at me for a minute, then nodded, apparently satisfied that I was willing to tell a fib for her.
“I have Connie filling in at the reception desk tomorrow,” she continued. Connie was one of the health aides. “And she is under strict orders to not discuss any of yesterday’s events with our visitors tomorrow.”
I nodded, wincing as my head pounded in disapproval at the sudden movement.
“You know they’re going to find out eventually, right?” I asked. “I mean, you’ll need to file termination paperwork for Kelly. And there’s going to be a police report if there isn’t one already.”
“Of course I know that,” she snapped. “But they don’t need to know it tomorrow. All I want them to see during the visit is what a wonderful place Oasis Ridge is. They need to see spotless facilities, full apartments, and happy residents and employees. I’ll deal with everything else later.”
I tried to nod again, then thought better of it. “Okay,” I said instead.
“Now,” she said, glancing back down at her notes. “I presume June hasn’t restarted her business, correct? I’d like to keep that quiet through tomorrow.”
“She hasn’t had time to purchase all of her replacement supplies, no.”
A genuine smile crossed Anne’s lips. “Good.” But then her expression clouded. “It better not take too long, though. She’s going to need to be up and running again soon, especially with rent coming up.”
“You said you’d cut her rent in half, though, remember? Because of the vandalism and theft. So she should be good to go for this coming month.”
Anne shook her head. “That was before we knew who was responsible.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked. “Her stuff is still missing and still got destroyed.”
“I can’t control any of that,” she told me primly. “Perhaps she can sue Kelly. Take her to civil court or something.”
“But you promised,” I reminded her.
“I did no such thing.”
“Yes, you did.” I felt my blood pressure begin to rise. “Maybe she should file a complaint with the corporate office. Let them know what happened and that you are now reneging on your promises. And maybe she’ll also tell them how no police report was filed and no internal investigation was done…”
Anne looked like she wanted to throw a stapler at the other side of my forehead. “Fine,” she finally grumbled.
I pressed my lips together, mostly so she wouldn’t see the smile forming on my lips. “Is there anything else you wanted to go over?” I asked, trying to shift the conversation back to what felt like more neutral territory. “I have the modified schedule for tomorrow, and I think all of the common areas are ready for the visit.”
She shook her head, her expression still sour.
I stood up. I didn’t want to spend one more second in her company if she had nothing else to discuss. “Let me know if you need me for anything else.”
I hurried out of her office before she could stop me, even though my heavy steps shook my head so much that it felt like I was jarring my brain loose.
Once I closed the door to her office, I took a few steps and then leaned up against the wall. I shut my eyes.
“Looks like you could use a ride.”
My eyes flew open.
Aidan was standing in front of me, pushing an empty wheelchair.
“I’m good,” I told him.
“You sure?” His forehead furrowed. “You don’t look so great.”
“Thanks.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly. His eyes searched mine before they settled on the angry red scar on my forehead. He reached out a hand, his fingers almost touching the skin above my wound, before he stopped himself. He yanked his hand away, his cheeks flushing red in the process.
My heart fluttered in response.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
I swallowed. “As well as can be expected, I guess.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.” His Adam�
�s apple bobbed up and down a couple of times. “And I’m glad you figured out who damaged June’s stuff.”
“It wasn’t just me,” I reminded him. “It was us. Both of us.”
“Not really.”
“Sure it was,” I said. “You provided information, and you went with me to follow up on leads and stuff. I couldn’t have done it on my own.”
“Sure you could have.”
Maybe this was true. But I hadn’t wanted to do it on my own. I’d liked having Aidan around, having his help.
The words were on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t force them out of my mouth.
“I also heard what you’re doing for her with the money,” he said. “The loan. That’s a really awesome thing to do.”
“You helped her, too,” I reminded him. “By bringing in your extra oils. That was a nice gesture, too.”
“Well, yeah, but it’s not exactly on the same level as offering her a massive loan.”
I shrugged. “We all do what we can do, right? Everything, big and small, makes a difference.”
“Absolutely,” he said with a grin.
I smiled back, thinking about the number June had given me earlier that morning as the total amount she’d need to get her business up and running again. It wasn’t nearly as much as I’d initially thought, which meant I had a huge chunk of money left over. I’d have to get my dad’s blessing, but I was hoping to at least gift a small amount to Denise’s great-aunt. Regardless of how much or how little I could pass on to her, I knew it would help.
All things big and small could make a difference.
Aidan cleared his throat and I brought my attention back to him.
He was staring at the floor, his hands gripping the wheelchair handles so hard his knuckles were turning white.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, a little alarmed.
“Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, I was wondering…” His voice trailed off.
“Wondering what?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was clearly uncomfortable about something. “I know we met up a couple of times last week while we were trying to figure out what happened to June.”
I waited.
His neck flushed red and he licked his lips a couple of times, almost as if he was trying to work up the courage to say something.
“Do you think…?” He let go of the wheelchair and raked a hand through his hair. “Do you think we could do it again sometime?”
“Meet up and work on the case?” I asked. “But it’s solved…”
He shook his head, and a tentative smile appeared. “No. I mean meet up just because…”
A thousand butterflies took flight in my stomach. “Are you asking me out on…a date?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I am.”
A smile blossomed on my lips. Denise and Jackie—heck, even Rudy and Megan—had all been right.
I gazed directly into his eyes. “I’d like that very much.”
THE END
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Sunny's character was originally “born” in the Rainy Day series. Not familiar with it?
Well, keep reading for the first chapter of the first book in that series, BOUGHT THE FARM.
ONE
“Tell me you hate it.”
My hand tightened around my phone.
“Mom?” A pause. “Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” I said, a little guiltily.
Marcia McAdams, my real estate agent, stood next to me, the expectant smile on her face unable to mask the puzzlement in her expression. She held a thin manila folder in one manicured hand, a black leather briefcase in the other.
“Well?” Laura said.
I was standing in the middle of a one-hundred-year-old farmhouse. In the middle of five acres consisting of pasture, forest, and even a small pond. In the middle of Latney, a small, picturesque town tucked in the rolling hills of Central Virginia.
It was as far as I could be from my row house in Arlington. Far from the cramped and crowded streets of my old neighborhood, far from the clogged arteries of the Beltway, far from the hustle and bustle of DC.
And far from my adult daughter, who was currently quizzing me about my whereabouts.
And my intentions.
“Rainy?” Marcia stage whispered to me. She waved the manila folder that held the printouts of the properties she’d scheduled us to see.
I nodded and held up my finger, trying to buy a few minutes.
“Mother?”
“I’m here,” I repeated. My voice was laced with irritation this time, and Laura knew it.
“I just want an update,” she said. “Since you’re planning on moving hundreds of miles away from me.”
“It’s a hundred miles, not hundreds,” I told her. “And I haven’t made any decisions yet.” I glanced at Marcia, who was trying her hardest to not look like she was eavesdropping. “I’m just looking.”
Marcia’s shoulders stiffened a little.
“Where are you now?” Laura asked. “What property?”
I glanced around as if for confirmation.
Marcia and I were in the middle of the living room of the old farmhouse. Honeyed wood plank floors, weathered and scratched with age. White plastered walls, a beautiful brick fireplace. The windows were thick planes of glass, with old-fashioned cranks to open them, and the doors were still outfitted with skeleton keyholes. We’d walked through the rest of the house—the large, airy bedrooms upstairs, the bathroom with its claw-footed tub and ancient pedestal sink, the kitchen with surprisingly modern touches like a dishwasher and newer tile countertops—and had just decided to tour the other buildings on the property when Laura called.
“It’s one of the farmhouses,” I said.
“Well, duh.” I could almost see Laura roll her eyes. Brown eyes like her father’s that fired black when she was angry or upset. “All you’re touring are farmhouses. Hundreds of miles away from me.”
“One hundred,” I said again. And then I added, “The one with the barn. And five acres.”
“Well, that could be any of them,” she said.
“Laura.”
“I go by Lori,” she said icily. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“Well, I named you Laura, so that's what I'm going to call you.”
Laura had some...misgivings about her name. Especially since her brother's name was Luke. Being a latch-key kid who spent afternoons watching soap operas, in particular General Hospital, had sort of influenced me in the names department. Laura had taken issue with this as soon as she realized the connection. And her friends started asking her if she was in love with her brother.
Marcia cleared her throat and I glanced at her. She tapped at the face of the thin watch attached to her wrist. I nodded.
“Look, honey, I’m going to need to catch up with you later. We still have a couple more properties to see and it’s getting late.” I had no idea what time it was, but judging from Marcia’s expression and gesture, I could make an educated guess.
Laura sighed. “Fine.”
But I knew it wasn’t fine. Laura was lots of things—smart, successful, a great elementary school teacher, a dedicated girlfriend—but she was not good at hiding her emotions.
She might have gotten that from me.
“Call me when you’re done,” she ordered. “As soon as you’re done.”
“I will,” I told her.
“And call me if you make a decision. Like, first thing. Before you sign any papers.”
“Uh huh,” I mumbled, saying a quick goodbye before she could badger me any more.
I knew what my eldest child was doing: inserting herself into my lif
e. Making sure I didn’t make any rash decisions. Intervening in the hopes of saving me from myself.
Lucas had been fine when I told him I’d quit my job and sold the house. I’d expected that. Nothing ruffled his feathers; he was like his father that way. Of course, it probably helped that he lived three thousand miles away, surrounded by the Pacific Ocean and hip coffeehouses and music venues that he toured with his band. My life and the decisions I made were about as far removed from his daily life as if I’d been in a colony on the moon. Or in a different galaxy.
Laura was a different story. She’d only moved out two years ago, after she’d finished her student teaching and landed a job at Vickers Elementary in Falls Church, just a few miles up the road from the school where she’d graduated fifth grade. She was the one who called almost daily, who insisted on Sunday dinners together, who always had an opinion on every aspect of my life.
She might have gotten that last little bit from me.
So when I’d told her I was ditching the city and moving to the country, she had not been on board. At all.
What would I do for money, she wanted to know. (I was fine. I had an inheritance she conveniently liked to forget about).
What would I do with all my time if I quit my job? (Duh. Relax for the first time in twenty-plus years.)
What did I know about farm life? (Nothing. But I was going to learn.)
Why did I want to move away from her? (I had no answer for this.)
“Rainy?” Marcia said my name again.
I glanced up at her.
She smiled, her magenta lips the same color as the blazer she wore. “Did you want to see the rest of the property?” She glanced at her watch again. “We still have a couple more homes to see, and we’re running short on time.”
This was one hundred percent my fault. Marcia had suggested we only schedule three tours, but I was insistent on more. There had been at least a dozen that had caught my eye in the searches she’d sent me, and I wanted to see them all. Even I wasn’t naïve enough to think we could cram in a dozen, but I’d gotten her to reluctantly schedule six showings. Unfortunately, our pace was positively turtle-like and I knew we’d be hard-pressed to get to the other ones before I headed back to DC.
