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Ethan changed his clothes as Lydia paced the master bedroom. Her exhaustion replaced with intrigue made her skittish. “Aren’t you going to change,” Ethan asked.
Lydia paused to glimpse herself in the mirror. “Oh goodness! I’d forgotten.” She tossed her apron at the dirty clothes basket, missing it. She pulled on her hippie skirt and refreshed her bang twist. Then she shot across the room and spritzed herself with perfume. “Okay, let’s go.”
Ethan shook his head and led his wife to their car. “Should we stop and get something to bring with us? After all, we weren’t exactly invited, and both of our hosts just returned from the hospital.”
Lydia’s mouth dropped. Ethan was right. “Miss Jacqui will want to know about the opening of the fair.”
“Do you, honestly, believe she doesn’t already know?”
“And she’ll want you to tell her about Rene. I want to see Hobo Joe. I can’t believe he’s been released.”
Ethan pulled into the diner parking lot. “He’s banged up but other than a broken leg, he’s okay. Bruises, mostly. But nothing else is broken. The doctor’s wanted him to stay for a few more days but he signed himself out against their advice. He’s going to be sore for a long time, but he’ll be fine. ”
Lydia delighted in the news. She was anxious to replace her last image of Hobo Joe. His blood. His twisted leg. His heartbroken face. His mangled amen. They all haunted her. She believed God had the situation in hand, but she still fretted over Hobo Joe’s fate. The market kept her busy, but between customers she saw his face.
“You stay here,” Ethan instructed Lydia. “I’ll snag a pie and an order of tomato soup. Maybe some rolls, too.” He didn’t expect his wife to respond. Her eyes glazed with thought. She didn’t flinch when he shut the door and didn’t react when he returned.
✽✽✽
Cordelia was perched on Jacqui’s couch when Ethan escorted his wife inside. He showed the elderly woman his offerings before taking them to the refrigerator. Miss Jacqui offered him a wide grin of gratitude. Lydia settled herself in an armchair across from the couch.
“Thanks for the diner pie and soup. I’m glad Kevin was able to sell them to you.” Kevin Brandes, the manager of the Honey Pot Diner and husband to Flora, made great grub. Jacqui was happy to have it. However, she burned Lydia with her disapproving furrow. As if to say that real friends baked their offerings of condolences. They did not buy them.
Lydia couldn’t understand how one lady’s scowl could slice her down to her guts. She shivered as if awakening from a humiliating dream. The public speaking in her undies type of dream. She struggled to avoid eye contact, but Jacqui’s gaze held her like a tractor beam. More than her substandard food gifts nagged at Miss Jacqui.
Hobo Joe rested in the room’s recliner. One crutch lounged against each doily covered arm. Three pillows propped his plaster wrapped leg, but the twinkle in his eyes mirrored no pain. Lydia marveled over the strength of his pain meds.
Ethan returned to the room, and Miss Jacqui’s eagle eye flickered toward her new prey. “Cordelia says those teens attacked her lawn, again. Ethan, I’ve known you since you were seven years old. You’ve always been a diligent and helpful boy. So, why haven’t you caught the drivers?”
Ethan offered a steady, boyish expression in answer to Miss Jacqui’s question. She didn’t soften, but she sat in silent expectancy. Ethan did not disappoint. “Now, Miss Jacqui, I’m doing my best. With the incident at Lavender Lane...”
“Yes, that was very sad. That was, also, over two weeks ago. This garbage can business has been going on long before that. Unless you’ve got another murder to deal with, you need to get busy finding these kids before someone gets hurt.” She lifted her wrapped wrist as a testimonial.
Ethan listened. Only his tilt forward and elbows on his knees gave away his agitation. Lydia wanted to put a solid hand of encouragement on his knee but didn’t dare. She was in deep yogurt herself. There was no telling what kind of medications Jacqui was on or how loose and vengeful they would make her words.
“Gus and I have run multiple stakeouts on all the streets hit,” Ethan said.
“Once they saw your cruiser, I’m sure they ran for the hills.”
Lydia knew Ethan and Gus used both the police cruiser and their personal vehicles on separate occasions. They even took on a new assistant to help them in their search and an extra hand to staff the offices while they were out. Ethan was also looking for another full-time secretary to help handle all the phone calls. Honey Pot was a small town, and current events equaled a devastating crime wave to its sheltered citizens.
“Cameras, why aren’t their cameras up to record the attacks?”
Cordelia shifted on her cushion. Hobo Joe spoke first. “Now, Jacqui we talked about that on the way home. This town loves its privacy and its humble down to earth brand of crazy. Neither you nor I want cameras everywhere watching everything.”
Cordelia nodded vigorously. Her hands crossed on her knees and then shot to her hips and back to her knees. Lydia watched her crane and stretch her neck.
“Okay, okay, but our safety is in question,” Jacqui said.
Ethan let the debate continue without his help. Instead, he winked at his wife while following along. Lydia wrinkled her nose in wonder. How does Ethan do it? How did he separate his job from his relationships? How could he sit so fresh and smooth next to the people he protected as they badgered him and criticized his efforts? It made Lydia steam.
Cordelia changed the subject to Lydia’s chagrin. “They’re doing their best, Jacqui. I trust them.” She nodded warmly at Ethan, who returned the gesture. “I was very encouraged by the first day of the Market. Even after its postponement, all the vendors did well above their expectations.”
Jacqui conceded the debate, for the time being. She inhaled deeply and exaggerated her exhale as she spun around to face Cordelia. Her countenance showed no inkling of distress over the camera conversation. She was now wholly absorbed in the new strand of thought. “I heard. I also heard news about Crafter’s Corner.” Before Jacqui could begin her next rant, Cordelia bounced to her feet.
“I almost forgot.” She hurried to the entryway and retrieved a brown paper bag bearing the Victor E. Garden logo. “Victor sent over his homemade cocoa mix, as a thank you for stepping up to run the Market. I can’t have chocolate. It makes me skittish. I thought you would like it. It was Mario’s favorite.” In game show host fashion, Cordelia displayed the new offering with flare.
“If anyone else would like some...” Jacqui offered.
“I’ll heat the milk.” Cordelia volunteered.
“I’ll help.” Lydia launched to her feet and followed Cordelia to the kitchen. She would not be as graceful a listener as Ethan, and she didn’t think she could handle a verbal spanking. Lydia decided that hiding in a vat of hot chocolate was the better option.
The drink had a bitter bite, not quite like coffee but close. Lydia finished two giant mugs while Ethan explained Miss Rene’s behavior to Jacqui.
“We’ve gone to Lawrence. He’s tried. I’ve also told the specialist in Ashton, over and over. She needs her medication adjusted.” Miss Jacqui’s eyebrows arched and she stood with emphasis. “It’s nearly three months and her anxiety is getting worse. That and her memory is failing. She’s a grump and a loon. Not a pleasant combination. That’s why I didn’t want her to stay here, all alone. I’ve alerted her nephew. Hopefully, he’ll take the initiative and take her to a new doctor during her visit.” She continued her loud disapproval of Miss Rene’s young Ashton doctor until her company retreated.
Hobo Joe slept. The noise and arguing didn’t disturb his rest. He mumbled to himself, but his sleeping words made no sense. Cordelia patted his hand when he got restless and eased him back to sleep. Lydia wondered at the strange stirring in Cordelia’s and Joe’s relationship.