by Patti Larsen
I nodded. “I meant what I said, Alicia. Anything either of you need. Name it.”
Her smile wavered but it was there. “He’ll be okay. He just needs a break. This park was supposed to be fun, you know? A chance to reconnect with friends, a simple side project.” She exhaled, sagged against me. “It just seems like he can’t catch a break on anything.”
Damn it. We’d just see about that. And while it was nice of her to consider me one of the popular locals—something I personally doubted considering my track record as a murder magnet—if she thought I could make a difference, then so be it. “I’m there.”
Alicia bit her full lower lip while Jared hung up, staring down at his phone a moment while we watched. “Just be prepared,” she whispered. “I think it’s going to be a big protest tomorrow. So we’re not asking a small favor here.”
Jared turned and joined us again, crossing the threshold, eyes dark and lips thinned. He tried to smile but it seemed like the sunlight did nothing to illuminate his once happy face. “We should go,” he said. “Sorry to run, Fee.”
“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” I said, giving him my best smile even if he couldn’t answer in kind, because what were friends for? “10AM sharp. Can’t wait.”
His kind patience shone through, softening the edges of darkness that shadowed his face. “Thanks, Fee. I really appreciate it.”
Seriously. This surge of protectiveness I was feeling all of a sudden? Those damned protesters had better look the hell out.
Aundrea and Pamela, Daisy firmly in tow, swept their way back into the foyer, Jared’s mother bubbling over, her happy voice echoing as her heels clattered on my floors and I inwardly winced over then again. She hurried to her son and hugged him with great enthusiasm while Jared kissed her cheek.
“Sweetheart,” she gushed, spinning to look back into the annex as if she owned the place. “You did a fantastic job. It’s gorgeous.” She lunged for me then, hugging me tight, a far cry from the grim and unhappy woman I’d met the day after her hated husband turned up dead in my koi pond. How far she and Pamela had come, the pair of long-lost lovers finally able to be together. “I can’t believe we’re getting married here this weekend.” When she beamed a smile at her partner, Pamela grinned indulgently back. While the newspaperwoman’s expression wasn’t quite as openly delighted as her fiancé’s, Pamela’s happiness was in no way diminished in my eyes.
I was surrounded by people in love, and that stirred up some things that reminded me I had my own chance at happiness lingering in the wings.
Thinking about kissing Sheriff Crew Turner? Enough to brighten any day.
***
Chapter Three
Still chattering, Aundrea grasped her son’s arm and dragged him with her, Alicia on her other side, while Pamela lingered, watching her love and the sweet young couple as they descended the steps to the walk on their way to the street. I inhaled the freshness of the spring afternoon, breeze from the open door soothing my worry, my heart, while Pamela met my eyes.
“Jared mentioned the park?” Leave it to her to bring that up at a time like this. Well, she was a reporter.
I wrinkled my nose at her. “I’ll be attending the opening,” I said. “Protestors or not.”
She nodded once, dark eyes pale in the sunlight. I caught Daisy joining us out of the corner of my eye as Pamela spoke. “I’m prepping a story for this week’s Gazette,” she said, sounding amused rather than worried, so I released some of my growling protectiveness for Jared and Alicia while she went on. “Caused quite the kerfuffle in council, let me tell you.” She winked slowly. “I guess you missed it?”
Whoops. “Not really paying close attention to local politics at the moment,” I said without apology.
Pamela shrugged, hands in the pockets of her suit pants, squinting into the sun while Aundrea waved at her to come along, dear. “Olivia’s hanging on, but I’m thinking there’s a shift in power coming sooner rather than later.”
While I didn’t agree with all of our mayor’s practices, I felt an odd affinity and loyalty to her. “She’s done a lot for Reading,” I said.
Pamela didn’t comment on that. “Aundrea’s been worried about Jared.” The shift in subject made me start. “But he refuses to slow down. I wonder how long he’ll punish himself for his father’s failings.” She sighed and her humanity showed, her own concern for the young man she surely adored if I read her endearing if fleeting expression correctly.
“I wish I could help,” I said, feeling at a loss.
Pamela’s quick, sharp smile as she leaned in, eyes narrowed in wicked focus, was all the warning I got. “You want to help, Fee? Write that damned column I’ve been asking you for.” She left without another word, casual stride carrying her down the steps to Aundrea who hooked her arm through her fiancé’s. All four waved and I caught myself waving back, Daisy joining me, the both of us in silence until they were gone, driving off in separate cars while I held my breath and let the afternoon sun warm my face, turning then to stare into the gorgeous interior of the annex. Clinging to the moment like it needed to last forever, blinking slowly into the quiet interior, letting myself truly enjoy what I’d made and now wanted to share with the woman standing next to me. I just had to convince my mother.
“Are you going to write it?” Daisy’s voice sounded soft, subdued, and when I turned to her she wasn’t looking at me, but staring with her own quiet joy at the entry. She was as much a part of this place as I was now, and while her question could have been intrusive it instead made me grin. Did she have any idea what I wanted to ask her? I doubted it. I just hoped when the time came she said yes instead of worrying she wasn’t good enough.
“Do you think I should write it?” I hooked arms with her, not wanting to move just yet, Daisy making no effort to leave, either.
“I do.” Daisy ducked her head, tucking a stray piece of dark blonde hair behind her ear, grinning. When her gray eyes met mine she giggled. “Don’t you?”
I inhaled, exhaled. Shrugged. “We’ll see.” Okay, I was beaming again. “Daisy, look. Look what we did.”
She laughed then, hugged me and I hugged her back. Before leaning away, wry smile sideways. “As much as I’d love to stand here and admire it forever,” she said, “someone has an appointment to keep.” She looked back toward the foyer again. “And I have guests to take care of.”
She had to remind me. “You could go see Vivian for me.” Weak, Fee. Really weak. Couldn’t I just stay here in the annex and hide out for a while?
Daisy squeezed my hand before exiting, heading down the walk toward Petunia’s. Her lovely voice reached me as she greeted a couple who’d exited a car parked in front of the door, luggage piling up on the sidewalk. The older woman’s unhappy expression eased while Daisy welcomed them, though the mid-sixties gent in the matching khaki vest and floppy hat his companion wore looked my bestie up and down in a way that made my skin crawl. Just ew.
It did break my moment of pausing to absorb the silence of expectation hanging over the annex. Whether that was a good thing or not, it didn’t matter. Okay then, back to work it was. And after the mixed bag of emotions I’d just been through, those same emotions still lingering and sifting through my mind, surely adding a short, business visit to the Queen of Wheat wasn’t the end of the world.
With a blown kiss for the newest addition to my world, I closed the front door behind me.
***
Chapter Four
Margaret Peadley escorted me into the kitchen office at French’s Handmade Bakery, ushering me into a chair as she sorted through a pile of paperwork on her desk. Vivian’s right-hand woman grinned jovially while I relaxed in her happy company, her round, red cheeks and bright hazel eyes a huge relief.
“Vivian’s out of state at another location,” Margaret said, “but we’re right on schedule with the cake and the catering support you asked for.” She patted the pages in front of her, the design of Aundrea and Pamela’s towering cake sketched
out the way the couple requested. While the initial ask was theirs, it was up to me to ensure the bakery delivered. While I wasn’t Vivian’s biggest fan and wished Mom was in charge of the confections and the food in general, at least I knew my old rival was a professional.
A short few painless minutes later and I stood, final details perfected and heart lighter. At least this part was handled, if not by the one person I wished I could count on to do so. I wasn’t sure if Margaret knew what I was thinking, but on the way out she paused at the door, hand on my arm.
“Please tell Lucy if she ever changes her mind…” she hesitated while I frowned a little. Right, Vivian made Mom an offer once, one that undermined her confidence further, as far as I was concerned. But wait, was it Margaret who made the untimely mistake? “I’d love to have her contract out for us. She’s a brilliant baker, Fee.”
That was a far cry from the supposed job offer of subordinate slavery Mom said Vivian suggested. And made me pause, rethink, while I hated doing so. Had my mother overreacted? No way, I would not let Vivian off the hook for making Mom feel inadequate. Still, I’d jumped on the Lucy Fleming bandwagon without actually hearing the full conversation between her and Vivian. Damn it, was I giving her the benefit of the doubt all of a sudden?
I left Margaret then, doing my best to hide my upset, hurrying up the street with long strides that carried me, not to Petunia’s as I’d intended, but instead to the front walk leading to my parent’s house. Traitor feet, I couldn’t rely on them, it seemed. Nor did I stop myself from knocking, though, suppressing the knowing sigh that clenched inside my chest when I entered without being invited—home was home, no matter how old I got—and slipped off my shoes in the entry before drifting toward the kitchen.
There was a time when I couldn’t wait to get out of this house and had for a long ten years. And then a time when I loved it, not so long ago, a time that I saw my parents in a different, happier light, when Mom and Dad’s practiced comfortableness was a light I gravitated to. That’s why every time I crossed the threshold the last few months frustration caught my breath and tugged at my feet, slowing me down. Not my job to heal them, but still. How could I give up on them when I finally found them again?
The moment I entered the kitchen I knew today wasn’t one of those days where Mom could at least pretend she wasn’t on the brink of a complete meltdown. From the tears on her cheeks and the way she glared at me while she wiped them away I clenched against onslaught and held on.
“He’s opening an office.” All of her disappointment and unhappiness and the struggles she’d been facing I could only guess at flooded her voice until I wanted to cry with her. “An office. Isn’t that just lovely?” Mom turned her back on me, shoulders stiff, bowed. “Now everyone will know I bullied him into retiring and I’ll look like a waspish old nag.”
Okay, this was getting so out of hand I was going to shake her. “Mom, what are you talking about?”
“John.” She snapped Dad’s name over one rounded shoulder like that answered everything.
Well, I guess it kind of did. “For his P.I. business?” Wince. Mom’s body shuddered like I’d hit her. “Mom, no one will think—”
“You have no idea how horrible people in this town are, Fiona Fleming.” Mom spun back at me, jabbing a finger toward me, her face pinched with so much hurt my need to shake her turned to a powerful desire to wrap her up in a hug and keep her safe. Not from the folk of Reading but from herself. “They’re already talking and now he’s making it worse.”
The most horrible part of all of this stupid, relentless situation that was taking my mother down a road I couldn’t bear to watch her travel? There was nothing I could do to help her. Nothing I could say to take that look of self-judgment and recrimination from her normally lovely face. As I stood there, mouth opening and closing while I fought for a single word of support to give her comfort, I finally understood how far outside what she was going through I really was. And that if anyone was going to rescue my mom it had to be my mom.
Damn it.
The front door opened behind me, fresh air wafting in, the sound of steady, heavy footfalls at the entry turning to the whisper of sock feet on hardwood. Dad joined us, head down, his quiet, steady presence no match for Mom’s unhappiness. She spun away again, arms hugging herself, refusing to look at him while he carefully kissed my cheek and met my eyes, his own full of the kind of buried sadness that hurt far worse than any overt show of pain.
“Hi, Fee,” he said, deep voice soft.
“Hi, Dad.” I hugged him, saw Mom twitch, watched her hurry away down the hall toward their bedroom, slamming the door behind her like me choosing to embrace him meant it was us against her. When I flinched he sighed, patting my shoulder after he released me, leaning one hip on the counter. My dad had always seemed invincible to me, an immobile rock of a man, sheriff in this town for as long as I could remember. Solid, dependable, honest. Even when I was a teenager and we fought over my future, even when I couldn’t bear to be here anymore because he didn’t understand me—so I thought, little did I know just how alike we really were—I always respected and admired him for the kind of steady power he emanated. My dad was eternal.
How I hated to see the shift in him, the way he seemed reduced by Mom’s struggle. As if her hurt was Delilah to his Sampson, her pain his Achilles’ heel. Understandable, yes. Still painful to see. And I’d been so busy I’d done little, really, to help either of them.
Way to add guilt to the mix, Fee. Sheesh.
“Mom says you’re opening an office,” I said, trying to sound bright. “That’s great, Dad.”
He frowned, craggy line between his heavy brows pulling them together before he sighed deeply, a long exhale of frustration. “I only broached the idea this morning,” he said. “She’s a bit ahead of me, I’m afraid.” He hesitated then, another glance at the hallway, a faint trace of longing on his face. “I’m actually thinking about giving up the whole thing, Fee. Your mother. Well.” He cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest, staring at the floor while my heart broke.
“Don’t you dare.” I kissed his stubbled cheek. “This isn’t about you or anything you’ve done or plan to do, Dad and we both know it. Mom needs to figure this out.” I squeezed his elbow before chewing my bottom lip in anxious worry. “I wish I could just…”
He nodded. “Me too.” Dad’s eyes flickered to the hall again. “Me too.”
The silence that stretched between us was just too much. “You’re taking some cases?” Too sparkly by far, Fee, and so transparent I could see through it. Was positive Dad did, too, but his faint smile was grateful.
“A few,” he said. “Just keeping busy.” More pain.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I said, saying it at last, the apology I’d meant to share since I forced his hand in January. My eyes stung with unshed tears, my throat catching, nothing of the overwhelming joy I’d been feeling able to shut down this swing into sadness. I’d done this. I’d made him tell Mom what he was up to when she was so vulnerable, at a time she felt betrayed by the joy of her new venture, as unpalatable as the sabotaged cupcakes she’d served to the judges on that idiotic show. “This is my fault.”
Dad hugged me again, familiar embrace steadying me, holding me like he used to when I was little and needed comfort. Maybe he took some of his own from me hugging him back. I hoped so. Regardless, when I stepped away again he cleared his throat twice before he brushed my bangs away from my eyes and kissed my forehead.
“No,” he said, real smile finally appearing, “it was my fault for keeping things from Lucy. And from you, clever girl.” Another kiss landed. The last of the lingering hurt I’d carried since the winter crumbled and disappeared as my father touched my cheek. I hadn’t even realized I’d been hanging onto it. “Let me handle your mother. You have a lot on your plate.” I tried to protest, hating he was right but he was already guiding me to the front door. I slipped on my sandals and embraced him one last time as Dad re
sted his cheek on the top of my head.
“Love you, kid,” he said. “Proud of you.”
Choke. “Love you too, Dad,” I said. Squeezed hard. “Rent a damned office already.”
He didn’t comment and I hurried away before I could cry into his broad chest, but when I glanced back he was smiling so maybe, maybe I’d a least brought a bit of happiness to one of my parents.
***
Chapter Five
I should have gone back to Petunia’s. I had a lot to do, prep for the wedding, guests to wrangle, emails to answer. And apparently tomorrow I was going to be busy, at least for the morning, supporting my friends the best I could. While Daisy wouldn’t complain when I filled her in and was amazing and I loved her for everything she did… yeah. Petunia’s was my responsibility (until I asked her otherwise) and I far too often left her holding the bag(s) without real benefit to her. Mind you, that would change when I convinced her and Mom to step into the roles I needed from them. But, despite that knowledge and the pressure it created, as I hit the street I found myself turning left instead of right, the mid-afternoon sunshine begging me to linger just a little longer.
Sammy’s Coffee bustled with tourists and locals, the barista winking and giving me an extra pump of vanilla, asking after Petunia. I accepted the donut for the chubby pug waiting for me at home, refusing to ruin the girl’s gift by telling her in no way, shape or form would the fawn beggar be getting a sniff of wheat and sugar if I had anything to say about it. I left with two cups and the brown bag in a cardboard tray, heading back up the street for my chosen destination. I’d managed to exercise and diet a few pounds from my inherited pet, hoping to keep Petunia the Fourth around for many years to come. Though the sweet-natured pug wasn’t happy about the present state of her dietary restrictions (or the giant DO NOT FEED THE DOG ANYTHING sign I’d had to place at the front entry to prevent guests from sneaking her food), her happy-go-lucky nature hadn’t faded with the reduction in horrific gas passing or the fact she didn’t snore quite so loudly anymore.
