PUMPKIN PIE AND POISON: A Ravenwood Cove Mystery (book 11)
By Carolyn L. Dean
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PUMPKIN PIE AND POISON: A Ravenwood Cove Mystery (book 11) is copyright 2018 by Carolyn L. Dean. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
Dedication
This book is written for all the people who wish they could walk into the Ravenwood Cove Inn, say hello to Amanda, and sit down with a hot raspberry scone and a cup of fresh coffee. Thank you for sharing my favorite place with me!
Excerpt
As they walked away from Mrs. Penn’s area, Amanda surveyed the full room. The joint was jumping. It seemed like half of Ravenwood had turned out for the one-day holiday bazaar at the Grange, and there was lots of happy laughter and friendly chitchat as people bought and sold gifts for their loved ones. A couple of dozen tables were lined up in tight rows, each stacked with goodies for sale. Everything seemed to be on display, whether it was trays of homemade baked goods, or hand-painted aprons, or kitsch and antiques. Representatives from companies that sold cosmetics and essential oils had several spots. They were placed strategically as far away from each other as possible so they wouldn’t compete with similar vendors, courtesy of Meg's excellent organizational and diplomatic skills.
Strolling by the cider booth, Amanda spotted a familiar figure, sitting on a folding metal chair in the corner of the room, wearing her favorite hot pink velour tracksuit. Mrs. Granger’s wheeled walker was parked next to her, and she had taped a paper sign to the front of it, with hand-scrawled words that read
SOUND ADVICE FROM SOMEONE WHO KNOWS A THING OR TWO
ONLY $1
MONEY-BACK GUARANTEE
Amanda didn’t have to look at Meg to know what her friend’s reaction was. The moment Meg spotted her grandmother’s impromptu booth, she gave a loud huff of disapproval and made a beeline toward the old lady.
“Gran! What are you doing here? And what on earth does that sign mean?”
Mrs. Granger leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re a bright girl. Can’t you read? I’m dispensing advice. Lord knows there are some people in this town who desperately need some.”
“You can’t sell advice!” Meg sputtered, but her grandmother seemed unconvinced.
“Well, why not? I’ve got over ninety years of life experience. Isn’t that worth a buck? You can’t even get a Coca-cola for that these days.” She smiled smugly. “Just be glad I’m not giving out free kicks to the seat of some folks’ pants. I could nominate a few people who could use a good swift kick in the butt.”
***
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
“Sheesh. It looks like I swallowed a pumpkin.” The frustration in Amanda’s voice was genuine and unmistakable.
Mrs. Granger glanced up from her knitting and frowned at her very pregnant friend, who was turned sideways to get a good look at her bulging profile in the parlor mirror. With all Ravenwood Cove Inn’s guests gone for the day, Amanda Landon had the rare opportunity for some time alone with her almost-grandmother. They’d been sharing a pot of mint tea by the fireplace, and Amanda was enjoying having a bit of a break from working in the kitchen. The bigger she got, the slower she seemed to be, and it was frustrating. Even with all the changes pregnancy brought, some of them uncomfortable, Amanda wasn’t shy about showing off her protruding belly, all eight and a half months of it.
If she’d been expecting sympathy from the knitting ninety-year-old lady, she was sorely disappointed.
“Well, that’s what you get for holding hands, missy,” Mrs. Granger said with a raised eyebrow and a knowing chuckle. Her bird-bright eyes, wreathed by decades of soft wrinkles, were watching Amanda with open affection.
Amanda burst out laughing and turned to look at her dear friend. "I'll keep that in mind," she said with a smile. “I’m just getting tired of not seeing my feet.” She sighed. “And these days I’m not getting any sleep because this little guy is kicking me all the time, and I can’t even bend over to feed the chickens anymore.”
Mrs. Granger gave a snort of dismissal and set her knitting down on the seat of the green velvet couch, then turned around and fixed her gaze on Amanda.
"Now, you just quit worrying about the chicken coop and doing chores like that. Elizabeth can go out back to feed Dumb Cluck and his harem. She should be doing all the heavy work around here. We’ve already had a chat about that. You look beautiful, just the way a mother-to-be should look.” The old lady smiled. “Pregnancy suits you. You're lucky, you know. Some women glow when they’re expecting, and some women look like they've been dragged backward through a knothole." She pointed a crooked finger at herself. "I was more of the knothole variety. One pregnancy and I was ready to be done forever. You’ve had it pretty easy."
"Well, so far, so good," Amanda said, putting her hands on her ribcage and stretching out her sore back. "Just a couple more weeks to go." She gave a weary sigh. “It’s all worth it. I can’t wait to meet this baby.”
"It’s a good thing that husband of yours has been told to stick closer to home," Mrs. Granger said. "My first great-grandbaby could come 'bout any time now, and I don't want you trying to drive yourself to the hospital."
"Oh, you don’t have to worry about that," Amanda said, settling into an overstuffed armchair near the huge fireplace. "He's got the whole route plotted out to get there.” She smiled. “He even confessed he's going to use his police siren if he has to."
"Good thinking," Mrs. Granger said with an approving nod. “Smart boy.”
Amanda sat down on the sofa and pulled her big orange cat, Oscar, onto what was left of her lap. As soon as she began to pet his broad head, he shut his eyes and started purring like a happy buzzsaw. Oscar’s favorite spot in the world was wherever was warm and close to Amanda, so a place by the blazing fire and cuddled up next to her was the best of both worlds. It had been almost two years since he’d shown up as a starving stray, and he definitely thought he ruled the Inn. It was well known that he ate with gusto and complained loudly if he could see the bottom of his food dish, as if he didn’t know where his next meal was coming from. Amanda loved to snuggle with him, but he didn’t seem to comprehend the idea that her lap was getting smaller and smaller.
Looking around, Amanda had to smile in satisfaction. The spacious front parlor at her historic bed and breakfast was one of her favorite rooms. It had an enormous rock fireplace with an old-fashioned iron swing arm inside, perfect to hold a teakettle or pot of stew. Scattered around the room were several sofas and a couple of overstuffed chairs, placed next to little tables to hold guests’ drinks or snacks. Deep shelves held books of all sorts, along with a row of games and puzzles. A carved wooden mantle was already decorated for Christmas, topped with a layer of cedar boughs and red glass balls, then tied with loops of wide golden ribbon. Oriental carpets nearly covered the wide plank floors, brought back to their former beauty by her contractor and a lot of work, and antique statues and little touches made the room feel both cozy and welcoming.
Amanda could feel Mrs. Granger watching her. From the expression on her face and the fact the old lady’s lips were pulled together like a drawstring purse, Amanda knew she was definitely thinking about something.
“Are you all right?” she asked while chucking Oscar under his chin, to his infinite satisfaction.
Mrs. Granger cleared her throat. "Oh, I’m fine, honey, but I was kind of hoping to ask you something."
That was unusual. Most of the time, Mrs. Granger was the one who knew everything about everyone in town, and who delighted in sharing gossip and giving advice. "You know you can ask me anything, Gran. What's on your mind?"
"Are you and James okay? I mean, he just seems kind of... distracted. I can't tell if it's new daddy jitters or something else.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not trying to butt in, mind you, but I can see it in his face. I've known him since I was his babysitter for when he was in grade school, but I’ve never seen him so preoccupied. Are there problems at his work, maybe?"
Amanda could see the concern etched on Mrs. Granger's lined face. She leaned over and picked up the old lady’s gnarled hand. Paper-thin skin stretched across the back of it, dry and nearly translucent with age.
"Oh, he's fine. Honest, he is, but I do know what you're talking about. He has just been kind of tense lately. I think all the changes this last year or so have kind of gotten to him. We haven’t been married very long, but a lot has happened.” She paused, still petting the cat. “We’ve built a new house, had a lot of things going on around town, and his father’s still recovering from his stroke. Now, with the baby coming, it's one more big change."
"So, he's fine, then?" Mrs. Granger’s expression was hopeful.
"Yes," Amanda said firmly, then smiled. "Really, he is."
The truth was Amanda wasn't really sure James was fine. He'd always been loving and attentive, but underneath it all Amanda could now detect a level of stress he'd never exhibited before. His evening walks with their yellow lab, Benson, had gotten longer and longer, even when the Oregon weather was spitting raindrops or swirling cold mist. He'd rearranged his schedule so he could go to every doctor appointment he could with her, and they'd had some lively conversations about possible baby names, but the closer she got to giving birth, the more worried James seemed to be. She could see him retreating into his own thoughts, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. When she’d asked him what was on his mind, he’d smiled and said everything was okay.
Mrs. Granger seemed to sense her young friend's thoughts and patted Amanda's hand reassuringly. "Oh, I'm sure it will be all right. Don’t you worry about a thing." She pulled out her knitting again and held up the little mint-green sweater she was working on. "You know, it would be a lot easier to know what to make if I knew whether that baby you’re having is a boy or a girl. You're going to get a ton of green and yellow stuff if you don't let your friends and family know."
Amanda gave a bark of laughter. "Nice try, Gran. Elizabeth already told me you're in a betting pool with the ladies from the historical society, and from what I hear, your money's been on this baby being a girl since day one. Just what are the odds these days?"
Busted, Mrs. Granger was obviously unrepentant. " No reason I can't make a little cash by placing a harmless wager with some friends, is there? Babies are always good news. " She tried to look pathetic, with huge, sad eyes. "So, not a single hint for me?"
Amanda was unmoved, and shook her head. "If James and I don't know, neither does anyone else. We want to be surprised, too. You’ll have to wait, along with the rest of us." She smiled. “Is that why you wanted to come over?”
“Well, I was hoping for some of that gingerbread cake Elizabeth makes. Got any in the pantry?”
Amanda’s voice was tinged with regret. “Sorry, Gran, but James just ate the last of it.”
Looping a strand of delicate green yarn over her finger, Mrs. Granger began knitting again, her bottom lip sticking out a bit.
"Well, poop. Double poop."
***
Ravenwood Cove may have been a small town on a nearly bypassed scrap of the Oregon Coast, but its citizens certainly knew how to celebrate the holidays. The entire town was decked out for Christmas, and Amanda absolutely loved it. She’d moved to Oregon from Los Angeles after a bad breakup, and could still remember how she felt the first December in her new home. The first time she’d seen the lights and decorations Ravenwood Cove started putting up the day after Thanksgiving, she’d felt like she’d stepped into a Norman Rockwell painting. It was all new to her, after life with a single mother and an indifferent long-term boyfriend, and she’d fallen in love with her new hometown even more. Christmas in Ravenwood Cove had a timeless magic all its own.
She cherished the nostalgia and beauty of it all, and couldn’t help humming a lively Christmas carol along with the radio as she drove downtown to meet up with her friends, Lisa and Meg. The road dropped in elevation as she drove toward the main street, and she sighed in happiness as she parked her car. Amanda may not have had a picture-perfect childhood, but there was something familiar and wonderful about seeing all the colorful decorations and thousands of small white lights. It was as if her old wishes for a childhood Christmas had been preserved in time. Every shop owner downtown had decorated their front windows with painted scenes or brightly lit displays of Christmas goodies and tempting gifts. The main square was decked out, too. The annual ceremony to celebrate the lighting of the big Christmas tree was only a week away, and volunteers had spent hours tying bows on the antique-style lamp posts and making sure every glittering bulb would sparkle perfectly.
As she drove closer to the police station and town hall, she peered through her windshield to watch three firefighters. They were using the extended ladder from their big tanker truck to reach the upper branches of the huge fir tree in the main square. At the top, of course, was her brother-in-law, Derek, halfway up the long ladder and secured by a safety tether. He was using his other hand to carefully loop lights around the waving tree limbs, utter concentration on his face. Tinsel garlands of gold and silver were strung across the front of the police station and City Hall, and big red bows on the front doors fluttered in the wintry breeze. Just like every other year, a wooden nativity scene stood in front of the church, large enough for live animals and actors. It was unoccupied, except for about a dozen hay bales and a small manger at the center, waiting for its tiny Christmas Eve occupant.
Amanda grinned. She knew Derek loved his job with the fire department, and he was as excited about Christmas as any little kid in town. Parking by the curb in front of the police station, she pulled a canvas bag onto her shoulder and glanced over at the nativity scene, just as the baby moved inside her.
I wonder what it must’ve been like to give birth where you didn’t know anyone, so far from home, Amanda thought, pulling her coat around her against the chill. I can’t imagine how Mary would’ve felt, or how scared Joseph must’ve been…
Her thoughts were interrupted by the front door to the station opening and Officer Wayne Rollins walking out, a wooden clipboard in hand. The wind caught the brim of his hat and blew it up, but he clapped his hand quickly on top of his head to keep it from flying off.
“Oh, hi, Amanda. Were you going in?” he asked, politely holding the door open a bit.
She nodded. “Just popping in to see the Chief. How are you? I hear wild rumors about your love life,” she said, a teasing note in her voice, and the young man’s face instantly flushed red with embarrassment, his eyebrows raised in alarm.
“Um, what did you hear?”
“That you’re dating Maisie Steele’s these days.” It was common knowledge the couple had met when Rollins had asked her to dance at the Rotary Club dance.
“So… how’s that going for you?” Amanda asked.
Wayne shifted from foot to foot, then a slow smile broke across his face. “Fine. Really fine.” He held up his clipboard and stepped aside so Amanda could walk through the door. “Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got to get over to the Grange Hall to see how the food drive is coming along, so I don’t have time to talk right now. See you later!”
And with a nearly silent exhalation of relief, he bounded down the steps and strode toward his parked police cruiser as Amanda ducked into the police station. George Ortiz, Ravenwood Cove’s popular police chief, was standing by the front desk and shrugging into his heavy green jacket.
Amanda caught his eye and said, "Hey, George! I'm glad you’re here. Are you on your way out?"
George, a dear friend to both her and James, smiled and shook his head. "Nothing that can't wait for a pregnant lady. Mrs. Orchard's cat Marmalade is stuck on her garage roof again, and she wanted to see if I could stop by to help. I think she's probably just lonely and wants me to try out whatever she's baked recently." He sighed and patted his stomach. "I hope I can take it. Last time she made homemade mince pies, and it gave me a two-day bellyache."
Amanda laughed in sympathy, and George smiled in return. "Now, Mrs. Landon, what can I do for you?" he asked in a teasing tone.
Holding out her canvas bag, Amanda said, "I thought I should bring these back. Remember those books you loaned to James about a month ago? He's finally worked his way through them, and I'm trying to get a bunch of stuff off my To Do list this week."
George took the book bag, peeked inside, and nodded in satisfaction. "Thanks. I'll make sure Amy gets them. She was wondering where these were." He set the bag on the counter with a thud, then glanced at Amanda's huge belly. "Getting everything done before the baby comes, right?" At Amanda’s answering nod, he grinned. "I'll tell you a secret only experienced parents know. The baby comes whether you’re ready or not. Danielle was born two weeks early. I didn’t have the new crib put together yet, so she spent the first couple of nights in Amy’s sock drawer.”
“Sock drawer?” Amanda’s surprise must’ve shown because George hurried to explain.
“Oh, she was fine. It was nice and clean, and with good padding for her.”
“You ever told her that story?” The mental image of Danielle, now a budding teenager, being put in a sock drawer as an infant was too funny.
George grinned. “Yeah, we did, but the other kids teased her about it a bit, so we kind of let it die. How’s your planning coming along?”
Amanda shifted from foot to foot. “Okay, I guess. Still lots to do,” she said, and George seemed sympathetic.
“The important thing is for you to get some rest and not to worry. Everything will be fine. Let me know if we can help. Amy’s already been talking about making you some meals for after the baby comes."
“Oh, that’s really sweet of her,” Amanda said. Her eyebrows pulled together in a sudden frown. "I... well, as long as I’m here I have a question for you, George." When she saw he was listening intently, she glanced around to be sure they wouldn’t be overheard, then lowered her voice a bit. "Do you know of any reason James might be more worried than normal? I mean, is there something going on with his job that could be making him upset? He seems kind of distant lately."
It was a good thing George was a close friend, because some people might've misconstrued her question as being worried about a rift in their marriage, but the police chief instantly knew what she was talking about. His face clouded with concern.
"Well, I didn't want to tell you, but...."
Chapter 2
Lisa's mouth dropped open in shock, her slice of Heinrich’s Pepperoni Heaven pizza forgotten in her hand.
"What do you mean, Roger Greentree's getting out? I thought he got sentenced to twenty years to life? After what he did, how in the world could he get released from prison so soon?"
Amanda took a shaky sip of her apple juice, then sighed. "I guess his appeal's gone through. He's been locked up in the Eastern Oregon Correctional prison, but once he’s out there's no reason he couldn't show up back here." She took a deep breath. "To find James."
Her friend glanced around the room, making sure no one else in Heinrich's Pizzeria could overhear what the two women were talking about. Setting her slice of pizza down on the white crockery plate in front of her, she leaned toward Amanda.
"Hey, I'm sure there won't be any problem," she said soothingly, looking her friend straight in the eye. "I mean it. After the way James took him down when he arrested him, I doubt if that weasel comes within fifty miles of your husband. He should be scared to death of James, if he knows what’s good for him."
"You mean, how he shot him in the leg?"
"Hey, Greentree had it coming," Lisa said adamantly. "Anyone who would take a twelve-year-old girl hostage and then threaten to shoot her is lucky he only got a bullet in the leg. The cops could’ve killed him on the spot.” She paused for a moment and blew out a quick breath. “Maybe he should've been killed. I know it sounds terrible, but that’s how a lot of people feel around here. The man’s an animal..”
Amanda's lips compressed into a thin, dissatisfied line. "And no one told me there was the possibility that this man’s been released from prison and might want to come after my husband?”
Lisa’s eyes were sympathetic, but her words were blunt. “I hate to say it, but it’s part of being a cop, Amanda. They make enemies, and some of those enemies aren’t very nice people. I know you and James talked about it before you got married.”
Rubbing a tired hand across her forehead, Amanda finally nodded. “We did, but this is all so much. I've got three guests at the inn checking out in the next couple of days, and then I’ve got to doublecheck that Elizabeth and her new assistant can run the Inn for the next few months. I’m trying to figure out what to do to get ready for this baby, and I have a husband who didn't tell me he's a possible target for a dangerous felon."
“Sounds like you need to talk to him about it,” Lisa said.
Amanda looked down at the untouched piece of pizza on her plate and nodded. “I will, as soon as he gets home tonight.”
Seeing Heinrich, the restaurant owner, walking their way, they both straightened up a bit and stopped talking. Spotless white apron and broad smile in place, as always, Heinrich surveyed their barely touched food and rocked on his heels a bit.
"How's the pizza, ladies?" he asked, already knowing the answer. His restaurant was a favorite with the locals, and Amanda often met her friends there for a slice of garlicky and buttery deliciousness. Maybe he knew what they thought of his famous cooking, but he still liked to hear it from his customers.
"Fabulous," Lisa said, and Amanda agreed.
"So good."
He stood at the end of their table, hands on hips. "Glad to hear it," he said, then turned to Amanda. "So, I have a suggestion for you for a Christmas gift for that hubby of yours."
"I'm sorry?" Amanda asked politely, not sure what Heinrich was getting at.
"I thought the sheriff's department had more money in their budget, for things like flashlights. Maybe they don't, but it sure looked like James could use one. I think Petrie’s Hardware has some on sale right now, if that helps."
Still mystified, Amanda waited for him to go on. At her look of confusion, Heinrich furrowed his brow.
"I saw James walking along the road that goes up to your Inn yesterday evening. It looked like he was rooting around in the dark, under that row of maple trees that line the side toward the ocean. He didn't have a single light on him, and it was dark enough outside I almost thought he was a deer or something like that." He glanced toward the kitchen, saw no one was gesturing to him for help, and continued. "I don't know what he was looking for, there in the dark, but a really good flashlight would've been a big help for him, I'm sure."
Amanda's mind instantly went to how much time her husband had been spending out running with the dog at dusk. She had a general idea of the route he'd been taking, and it could very easily include the stand of maple trees Heinrich was talking about.
"He probably just forgot his big light at home," she said, nearly automatically. “You're right, the sheriff's department does issue detectives good flashlights."
Heinrich looked a bit disappointed. "Oh, they do?" He sighed. " Well, there goes my brilliant idea for what you could buy him for Christmas. Never mind." He glanced toward the kitchen again. "I should probably get back to cooking. I hope you enjoy your pizza," he said, and Lisa and Amanda watched him walk away.
They turned back toward each other, and Lisa was the first one to speak.
"What was all that, about James being out in the dark, searching along the road?"
Amanda shook her head, mystified. "I have no idea," she said sadly, "but I can tell you one thing. It sure sounds like he's been keeping a few things from me."
Chapter 3
"If I have to bake one more piece of gingerbread, I'm going to lose my marbles. All of them. You’re going to have to lock me up in a rubber room."
Amanda laughed at her young employee, Elizabeth Porter, who was looking at the big slabs of baked gingerbread lying on the Inn's huge marble island in the kitchen. She had a bright red bandana twined through her mop of short, dark hair, and was wearing an oversized green apron and a frustrated expression. It had been Elizabeth’s idea to experiment making a replica of the Ravenwood Cove Inn entirely out of gingerbread, but once she started the project and realized how intricate the roofline was, how many little details there were in the exterior decorations, and how many candy-glass panes she'd have to make for the tiny windows, she'd started to despair. It was a huge undertaking, and Amanda had done her best to stay out of the kitchen while Elizabeth struggled with her self-imposed project.
“You know, I make the best pumpkin pies in the entire world,” Elizabeth said, somehow managing not to sound conceited. She gestured toward the problematic gingerbread. “Pies are so much easier than this stuff. My grandmother had the most amazing recipe, and I’ve experimented with it and made it even better. I should just make a half dozen of those pies for the open house and called it good.”
“But it’s after Thanksgiving…” Amanda said, her voice trailing off in confusion.
“Who said pumpkin pie’s just for Thanksgiving?” Elizabeth looked at her sideways. “In the old days, pumpkins and squash were kept in storage after they were harvested, so they could be used for as long as possible. Having pumpkin available to make pies in winter was a really big deal. The spices and sugar were expensive, so I’m sure our ancestors must’ve had them at Christmas, too.” She sighed. “Maybe it’s time to bring that tradition back.”
Amanda could see the fatigue on her friend’s face. "You don’t need to make a gingerbread house at all," Amanda suggested helpfully. “You can stop if you want to.”
She got a horrified stare in response.
"After all this work? Are you crazy?" Elizabeth plopped down on a kitchen stool and surveyed her handiwork. "I've bought ten strands of fairy lights to put inside, so all the windows will be lit up. I had to ask James to cut me a special piece of lumber to be the base, and I'm going to be making enough royal icing to decorate a full-sized school bus. If I can pull it off, this gingerbread house will be the centerpiece for the holiday open house."
The thought should’ve made Amanda smile, but she couldn’t help but feel a pang of unease. "And I might not even be here to see it."
Elizabeth clucked in sympathy. "Well, we did move the open house up a bit, just in case the baby comes early. Nobody minded at all, and it's the best option we could think of."
"I know." Amanda sighed. “And I appreciate it. Really, I do.”
As much as Elizabeth had done around the Inn since she’d started working there, Amanda had to admit she was missing Jennifer, her former employee. When Jennifer had accepted a new job, traveling the world to work for James’ brother Gable, Amanda had been genuinely happy for her, but she still missed her friend. Not only had Jennifer been a great cook and a hard-working employee, she'd also become a trusted confidante and almost part of the family.
"Were Mr. and Mrs. Tobin doing all right when they got up this morning?" Amanda asked, and Elizabeth smiled.
"I swear, you get some of the most interesting guests. The Tobins insisted none of their food could touch each other on their plates, and that it was all dairy-, gluten-, and fat-free. No nightshades, no nuts. Do you know how hard it is to make breakfast with those requirements?” Elizabeth made a sound of frustration. “Oh, and it had to be organic and vegetarian, too."
"What did you come up with?"
"Veggie omelet without milk in the eggs. They seemed to be okay with it at first, but then they grumbled because the vegetables were mixed in." She shrugged and studied her nails. "I guess they wanted them on the side or something. They said they’re going to get dinner in town because they’re heading down the Liberty for classic movie night.”
“What’s playing this week?” Amanda’s question was mostly academic. The old-fashioned folding chairs in the refurbished theater didn’t do her back any good these days.
“White Christmas. Bing Crosby, red velvet, fake snow…” Elizabeth said, smiling, her previous foul mood temporarily banished. “You can’t beat that for Christmas cheer.”
She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, then retied her apron with a look of determination. “All right, I can do this,” she said as if trying to convince herself, then headed back to the pantry for more ingredients, a renewed vigor in her step.
Hearing heavy footsteps coming down the main staircase, Amanda popped her head around the doorway. James was carefully balancing a huge cardboard box in both hands. The top of the box was open, and a pile of gold tinsel garlands was nearly spilling out over the sides.
"I think this is the last of it," he said triumphantly. "The Santa suit is in here, and the last boxes of glass ornaments."
Amanda clapped her hands in delight. "The old mercury glass ones? They’re my favorite."
Looking confused, James shrugged. "Um, you got me. I'm just going off what's written on the side of the box."
He walked toward the large parlor on the right. The space in front of the large bay window had been cleared away, and an antique trees stand sat there, waiting for its new occupant. Several boxes were piled nearby, waiting for Meg's arrival. She'd promised to come by and help them all decorate, after she'd closed down the Cuppa coffeeshop for the day and picked her grandmother up from Petrie’s Hardware store.
James set the box carefully on a nearby table, usually used for jigsaw puzzles or the frequent wine-tasting parties Amanda often hosted in the evenings for guests. He dug a bit in the box and pulled out a large glass ball, probably handblown, with brilliant stripes of blue, red, and green circling it and a loop at the top for hanging. "We’re taking some back to our house for our tree, aren't we? It's either that, or we just wrap the tree at home in toilet paper and hang earrings off it."
Amanda laughed. "Hey, no making fun of my collection of earrings. Your collection of cowboy boots is pretty vast there, too, bucko."
Laughing, James seemed to agree. "Deal. No teasing the pregnant wife allowed."
Amanda glanced across the foyer and could see Elizabeth was back at work in the kitchen, still muttering darkly to herself about the vagaries of working with gingerbread. Looping an arm through James' elbow, Amanda steered him toward the displaced sofa. "Can I talk with you for just a minute?"
"Lady, you can always talk to me," he said as he kissed her hair. "You're my best friend. What's up?"
They hadn't been married terribly long, and any disagreements had been infrequent and few. Still, Amanda had thought about what to say quite a bit before she'd chosen a moment to talk with James. She'd finally decided a direct approach was probably the best.
"Honey, tell me about Greentree being released from prison."
From the instant reddening of her husband's face, she knew she'd struck a nerve.
His voice was calm, his tone low. "What would you like to know?"
Lifting her chin a bit, Amanda looked up at him. "What do you think I'd like to know? I'm worried, James. Are you in any danger of him coming after you?"
James put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently toward him. "Of course not," he said. "He'll be on parole. They'll know where he is all the time, and it's been years since I put him in jail. I'm sure he's got other things to do besides coming after me."
Amanda craned her neck to look up at James' face, and her suspicions were confirmed.
"Well, Detective, you may be able to question the toughest criminals, but I've got to tell you that you're really awful at lying to your wife."
She could hear his chuckle, deep in his chest. "I’m sorry. Would you rather I was good at lying to you?"
"No, thanks."
James seemed satisfied with her answer. “Remind me never to play poker with you. Look, I've got people keeping an eye on Greentree's movements, just in case. His parole officer is keeping me informed, and from what I hear, most of Greentree's family are in Idaho. I don't think you need to worry about a thing." He kissed the top of her head. "You've got enough on your mind right now. Trust me, I've got Greentree handled. There’s nothing to worry about. Honest!"
Even as she leaned closer to him, resting her head on his broad chest, Amanda realized she'd learned more in that short conversation than she'd expected.
The bottom line was James was definitely worried, and he’d even taken steps to keep tabs on a man released from prison.
So why did she feel such a sense of unease?
Chapter 4
"Well, what do you think?" Meg asked, holding up a cheap plastic doll with a wide skirt, crocheted in shades of green and peach. The doll’s vacant eyes stared accusingly at Amanda.
"What do I think about what?" Amanda asked quietly. "What is it?"
She didn't want to upset Mrs. Penn, who was sitting nearby, behind a long table of similar dolls, all for sale. The middle-aged lady had been lucky to snap up the last table for rent at the holiday bazaar, after moving to town just two months beforehand. Mrs. Penn had quickly become a fixture downtown, easy to spot with her friendly smile and the rainbow-colored crochet bag she always carried.
Meg looked offended, or perhaps she just thought her heavily pregnant friend was a bit dim. "It's a toilet paper holder. See? The skirt gets pulled down over the roll and the legs go in the tube, so you can keep a spare one out of sight in your bathroom. Wouldn’t it be cute at Cuppa?"
The thought of the cheap plastic doll in the ladies’ room at Ravenwood Cove’s favorite coffeeshop was too much for Amanda. She tried to suppress her reaction, but the expression on her face must've answered Meg's question. Her friend stuck out her chin, pulling out her wallet anyway.
"Fine. I'll just get one for home," she said. "I think it's adorable," she added loudly, stressing the last word to be sure Mrs. Penn heard her compliment. It was apparent she did, because she handed back Meg’s change with a huge grin.
Mrs. Penn stuffed Meg’s doll/toilet paper holder into a plastic grocery bag. As Meg took it, Amanda remembered she’d heard some recent news about the middle-aged lady behind the table. “Oh, Mrs. Penn, congratulations! I heard you’ve started working down at Kazoodles toy store. You know, Grace is pretty picky about who she hires, especially right before Christmas. You should be very proud to be part of her team.”
“Oh, I am! I really am. You see, I’m all about making children happy, and Kazoodles is the best place in town to do that.” She looked at Amanda and smiled. “Grace is just wonderful to work with.”
As they walked away from Mrs. Penn’s area, Amanda surveyed the full room. The joint was jumping. It seemed like half of Ravenwood had turned out for the one-day holiday bazaar, and there was lots of happy laughter and friendly chitchat as people bought and sold gifts for their loved ones. A couple of dozen tables were lined up in tight rows, each stacked with goodies for sale. Everything seemed to be on display, whether it was trays of homemade baked goods, or hand-painted aprons, or kitsch and antiques. Representatives from companies that sold cosmetics and essential oils had several spots. They were placed strategically as far away from each other as possible so they wouldn’t compete with similar vendors, courtesy of Meg's excellent organizational and diplomatic skills.
"Meg, you’ve done a really great job pulling this all together," she said. “I think this is the best turnout I’ve ever seen.”
“Thanks,” Meg said, then glanced sideways at Amanda. “Aren’t you about ready to get off your feet?" she asked, and Amanda sheepishly nodded. She ran a protective hand over her belly.
"It seems like the bigger I get, the slower I get, too," she said. “I wouldn't mind sitting down at one of the tables and just getting some hot cider.”
The truth was, she could also use a break from all the friendly questions she got as she walked through the bazaar. It seemed every few feet some smiling matron was asking her how she felt, or if they’d picked names yet, or tried to tell her about their own childbirth stories.
In a way, she was flattered. Among the folks of Ravenwood, most people who had lived there for less than twenty years were quietly referred to as ‘the new people’, but Amanda was an exception. Not only had she jumped in with both feet and started remodeling the derelict Ravenwood Cove Inn, turning it into a popular bed and breakfast, but she’d also done her best to attract business and tourists to the area. This brought in new money and merchants, which benefited many of the families who’d previously been struggling financially. Once she’d organized a farmer’s market and it had quickly become a popular place for people to buy and sell things, she was firmly entrenched as a welcome addition to the town. Meg had been happy to take up the reins from Amanda and organize the bazaar this year, and it seemed to be a grand success.
As they walked toward an open table by the cider booth, Amanda spotted a familiar figure, sitting on a folding metal chair in the corner of the room, wearing her favorite hot pink tracksuit. Mrs. Granger’s wheeled walker was parked next to her, and she had taped a paper sign to the front of it, with hand-scrawled words that read
SOUND ADVICE FROM SOMEONE WHO KNOWS A THING OR TWO
ONLY $1
MONEY-BACK GUARANTEE
Amanda didn’t have to look at Meg to know what her friend’s reaction was. The moment Meg spotted her grandmother’s impromptu booth, she gave a loud huff of disapproval and made a beeline toward the old lady.
“Gran! What are you doing here? And what on earth does that sign mean?”
Mrs. Granger leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re a bright girl. Can’t you read? I’m dispensing advice. Lord knows there are some people in this town who desperately need some.”
“You can’t sell advice!” Meg sputtered, but her grandmother seemed unconvinced.
“Well, why not? I’ve got over ninety years of life experience. Isn’t that worth a buck? You can’t even get a Coca-cola for that these days.” She smiled smugly. “Just be glad I’m not giving out free kicks to the seat of some folks’ pants. I could nominate a few people who could use a good swift kick in the butt.”
Meg’s mouth hung open in silent dismay. It was rare to see Amanda’s bubbly and chatty friend struck speechless, and Amanda stepped forward to intervene.
“I’m not sure that’s what the Christmas bazaar is all about,” she said, trying to sound kind, but the ninety-year-old woman wasn’t giving up.
“It’s fine. No one was using this little corner of the hall, and Solomon doesn’t mind. Do you, Solomon?”
Solomon Culpepper, Ravenwood Cove’s resident handyman, had a very professional-looking display of turned wooden bowls and pens on his table. At Mrs. Granger’s question, his eyes widened in near-fear. “No, ma’am,” he said quickly. “You can share part of my table if you like. That’d be just fine.”
Mrs. Granger turned back toward her frustrated granddaughter. “Now, I’ve got waiting customers lined up behind you, if you don’t mind just stepping out of the way.”
Amanda looped an arm through Meg’s and drew her away, just as Brian Petrie pulled a crisp dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to Mrs. Granger. He was smiling as if indulging a child.
“Go ahead, Mrs. Granger. Give me some advice,” he said.
He instantly regretted it.
“Well, to start with,” she began, “you need to begin taking better care of yourself. Those plaid shirts you’re wearing are showing off way more belly than you think they are. Have you been eating all the leftover ice cream from your soda fountain? Maybe you need to exercise a bit more, like by using your arms to push yourself away from the table once in a while…”
Chapter 5
Early winter weather in Ravenwood Cove was always a bit of a crapshoot. It was influenced by the tall, rolling hills on one side and Pacific Ocean on the other, so a day which started off windy and clear in the morning might have two bands of pelting rain and then foggy mist by evening. On a rare occasion, the constant breeze sometimes shooed the thick clouds away, and the ocean would change from jade-green to nearly blue, reflecting the color of the clear sky above it.
James had lived in Ravenwood Cove for most of his life and was used to its vagaries. It didn’t bother him to be out in any type of weather. Today, the late afternoon air on the hills above the main part of town was crisp and damp, and he’d put on a warm, waterproof jacket and his beat-up running shoes. Skimming along the pavement as he jogged, he smiled. He’d learned to love his daily runs. In the midst of a crazy job and all the changes in his life, snapping a leash on Benson and heading out for a solo run was immensely calming. It cleared his mind; whether it was from exercise or the fresh air, he didn’t know, but he’d begun to treasure his time running along the high cliffs above Ravenwood Cove.
Benson kept up pace perfectly. His bright eyes were focused on the road ahead, his long pink tongue hanging out of his mouth with exertion and absolute pleasure. The yellow lab’s tail wagged briskly as he trotted along next to his master. They’d become fast friends ever since James had adopted him from the local animal shelter, and Benson had even done his best to fit in with Oscar. It hadn’t taken long for the pecking order to be established. Benson got to be the only pet at James’ new home, but that may have been only because Oscar was firmly entrenched as ruling the Inn and wasn’t allowed in Amanda’s house. The constant petting from the many guests and the warm kitchen and friendly cook suited the huge cat just fine, and Benson had no trouble with being second-in-command when he came to visit.
As James jogged next to his dog, his thoughts swirled in his head like a tangled fog. He made a mental note to tell Amanda that Greentree’s parole officer had confirmed he was still in Eastern Oregon, living in Burns. When he’d heard Greentree was getting released, he had been concerned. Out of all the people he’d put in prison, Greentree had probably been the most hate-filled. His brash statements about coming back to kill James had seemed more like promises than the usual empty threats James had heard from countless other felons. It had made him extra cautious. When he’d thought he’d seen someone walking through the area close to the Inn and ducking into the darkness of the trees, he’d quietly gone outside to investigate, only to find no one there. The phone call confirming Greentree was on parole in a different part of the state had been very welcome, and James shrugged his shoulders a few times as he ran along the damp pavement, easing the tension out of them.
It was nice to be alone with his thoughts. He wondered what Amanda had in the crockpot at home, then thought about the fact his car needed an oil change, then moved on to pondering his unborn baby. Would it be a boy or a girl? What if something went wrong with the birth? Would Amanda be all right? Would the baby be okay? What if he didn’t know how to be a dad? And just how did someone figure out how to fasten a diaper so it wouldn’t fall off? What if he forgot everything the nurse had talked about in prenatal class?
He didn’t realize his brow was furrowed with effort and worry as he jogged along. Maybe he should talk with the doctor again to be sure everything was progressing normally. No, he shouldn’t do that. He’d gone to as many of Amanda’s appointments as he could and had listened to every word Dr. Norris had said. The few times he’d asked questions, she’d been knowledgeable and helpful, but it still felt like he should know more. Before he became a detective, his previous partner, Brenda Nichols, once told him how she’d had to deliver a baby during a routine traffic stop. James remembered how much delight she’d had in describing the gory details to him. When she had explained why she’d had to buy new shoes after the experience, James had cut the conversation short and stalked out of the room, putting up a hand as if to stop her laughter and descriptions.
He lengthened his stride, enjoying the feeling of pounding his running shoes along the dark asphalt as he ran back up the hill toward the Inn and his new home. On his right, the land sloped up and away from him, rising as a long, steep hill. Tall trees and bushes were a thick, wild forest, only occasionally broken by a home tucked back from the road. On the side toward the sea, the terrain fell away steeply, down toward the town below, the top level gradually broadening out to form the flat acreage that held the Inn and his house. Pelting along, James could just see the dozens of white lights wrapped around the fat, round posts on the front porch of the Inn. Looped red and green Christmas lights twined through the rhododendron bushes lining the circular driveway.
He couldn’t help but smile. Amanda had been hard at work, decorating. Maybe it was because her childhood hadn’t always been ideal, or maybe it was just because she’d discovered a newfound love for the holidays. Whatever it was, he got all the benefits, whether it was delicious sugar cookies fresh from the oven or the woodsy smell of cedar garlands running the length of the staircase banisters and framing the wide doorways.
Maybe I should get Amanda a—
There was a loud crack, a bright flash of blazing fire lighting up the twilight darkness, and then another.
Gunfire!
Years of training and great instincts paid off. James dove for the nearby ditch, landing on his hands and knees in the thick layer of decaying leaves that had blown there. Head low, he strained his senses to see anything or detect any movement. Gulping, he tried to slow his breathing and take stock of the situation.
Daylight was nearly gone. No pain, except a smashed knee. The shots had missed him, but barely.
If he couldn’t see his attacker, maybe they were having trouble seeing him as well.
It seemed like an eternity as he lay there, silent, his heart pounding, watching the darkness, praying. Finally, not seeing any evidence of who had shot at him, he slowly pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. Keeping the glass face of it low to the ground to suppress any light, he tapped out a quick text while he kept glancing up, eyes wide to catch any possible clue as to where the gunman was. It would be too dangerous to call, as the gunman would almost certainly be listening for any sound he might make.
Shots fired just south of RC Inn. I’m in the ditch on east side. Shooter location unknown. CAREFUL
He prayed George would see it.
The next text was to Amanda and was short and to the point. He could only hope Amanda would do what he asked.
Get in the cellar NOW. Do not get out until I come get you. Love you, James
Stuffing the phone back in his pocket, he hunkered down again in the damp leaves, waiting and listening. Every gust of wind, every creak of branches moving in the evening breeze, seemed like an unseen threat. He strained every sense he had, but couldn’t hear anything definite which would pinpoint where the shooter was.
They could be anywhere.
And waiting for him, finger on the trigger.
Chapter 6
It might’ve been only minutes, but it felt like hours as he waited in the freezing cold ditch. Finally, he heard the welcome sound of at least two emergency sirens coming his way, racing up the hill toward him. Peering over his shoulder, he could see the strobing blue and red lights of George Ortiz’s cop car, followed closely by the fire chief’s bright red pickup, with a bar of flashing red lights on top. They screeched to a sudden halt about ten yards from where he was hiding, and he could hear the police chief flinging his door open. The sirens wound down into grumbling silence.
“James!” The voice was commanding and anxious.
“I’m okay, George,” James hollered back. “Someone took a couple of potshots at me, about thirty yards ahead or so. Right side, and I don’t know if they’re still there or not. Who’s with you? Burt, is that you?”
There was a sharp cough. “You know I don’t miss any of your parties, James.”
“Are you packing?”
“You know it. Brought my pistol. That’ll have to do.”
“Any idea where the shooter is?” George asked, and James’ response wasn’t helpful.
“Not yet.”
There was a sound of some scuffling feet by the police car, then George hollered at James again.
“Can you work your way back toward us?”
The thought of being exposed and making a dash for the cars made James’ stomach clench. “On my way.”
He pulled his feet under him, still crouched low to the ground, then scrambled as fast as possible toward the police chief. He could almost feel the hidden gunman tracking his moves, as if there were an invisible target on his back. Gasping for air, he vaulted from the ditch onto the blacktop and ran behind George’s cruiser.
The police chief was crouched by the trunk, a handgun in one hand and his radio in the other. Looking over, James could just see Burt Harwood behind the bumper of his truck, his pistol pulled and at the ready.
George nodded at James. “I’ve got some more officers coming, to search the area before we move. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, but I’ve got to get home to Amanda!” He gulped in a deep breath of air, then pulled out his phone. There was no text from Amanda. “She’s at the Inn and I’ve told her to hide in the cellar, but I’m not sure she got the message.”
George considered for a split second. “If she’s in the cellar she’ll be fine,” he said, but James could see his friend was thinking about how he’d feel in the same situation. They both had seen enough in their years of law enforcement to know what a desperate criminal could do to people.
“With all the light and sirens, there’s a real good chance the gunman took off already,” James said. He knew he was pushing the issue, but the thought of Amanda in the Inn with some crazed killer in the woods was enough to drive him insane. “George, I’m going to go to Amanda with you or without you. Make your choice.”
“Wait just five minutes, okay?” Without waiting for James’ reply, George Ortiz yelled at the dark woods around them.
“Police! Throw down the weapon and come out with your hands up!”
The three men paused, listening. Even the wind had stilled, as if waiting for an answer to the police chief’s bellowed challenge.
Nothing.
“This is your last chance!” George hollered again, in a voice that brooked no refusal. “If you don’t come out now, we will send in the police dogs!”
James knew Ravenwood Cove didn’t have a single police dog on the force, and the thought of the chief’s little lap dog being a slavering weapon of destruction to chase down bad guys was absolutely laughable.
George tried again, yelling for the shooter to throw down their weapon and come out, but there was no response, and James’ patience had reached its end.
“I’m not going to wait anymore,” he said, and just as he started to stand up, George reached out and gripped his arm.
“Then I’m coming along,” he said, resolve burning in his eyes. “Grab the rifle out of the front seat.” He turned toward Burt, who was watching them intently, his expression reflecting the seriousness of the situation. As Ravenwood Cove’s longtime fire chief, this was the first time he’d ever been involved in something like this.
“Burt, you stay here,” George said. “Fire two shots if you see anyone trying to get by you. That should scare them off and it will let us know they’re still in the area. And Burt,” George paused, making sure he had the big fire chief’s full attention, “if you need to shoot them, shoot to kill. Don’t take any chances.”
Burt quickly nodded in understanding, his face sober with the realization of what the chief’s words implied. James moved across the side of the car, opened the passenger door, and emerged with the rifle in hand.
“Are the Hendersons home?” George asked, referring to the odd neighbors who lived directly across the street from the Ravenwood Cove Inn, but James shook his head as he checked over the gun.
“They’re at Disneyland for a week. Elizabeth’s already gone home, and there aren’t any guests until tomorrow. It’s just Amanda.” The final words made his chest clench in fear.
“Text her we’re coming and to stay put,” George said, and James pulled out his phone.
As soon as the text was sent, George put a hand on James’ arm. “Across the street, side by side. Put some space between us so we’re harder to target, and run like hell.”
James took a deep breath.
“Let’s roll.”
Chapter 7
Straining to listen.
Trying to ignore the pounding heartbeat in his ears, and stop his imagination from picturing what could happen.
To his wife. To him. To George.
James gulped down his fear. Time to process it all later.
Training. Discipline. Focus.
With unspoken agreement, the two lawmen dashed across the wide-open pavement of the road, guns at the ready, swiveling their heads around to catch any glimpse of movement from the trees. The daylight was almost gone, the sun already set behind the far horizon of the ocean.
Ten yards to go.
Five.
In the trees!
James slammed against the rough bark of the fir tree and peered around its trunk.
Nothing. He didn’t see any movement at all.
With a curt nod to George, they set off again, legs pumping, lungs bursting, straight for the Ravenwood Cove Inn. As soon as they were in the open, James took off like a man possessed.
George did his best to keep up with James as he sprinted around the back of the huge building, trying to put the Inn between them and the gunman.
On the back deck.
James’ feet pounded on the wooden boards.
Hand on the doorknob, a frantic twist and push it in.
He could hear loud music coming from some other room on the other side of the bed and breakfast.
“Amanda!” James bellowed, his wet shoes leaving muddy footprints as he ran across the foyer, through the front room, and toward the back parlor. Amanda looked up in shock as her grimy husband skidded to a frantic stop in front of her. She was just about to reach over and turn down the Bluetooth speaker she’d been using for music when James’ arms enveloped her.
“I didn’t hear you come in—”
“Down!” he hissed. “Get down!”
He stood over her like a protective shield.
Amanda gasped in surprise but did as he ordered, lying down on her side while he carefully lay over her, his elbows and knees supporting his weight so he didn’t crush her.
“What in the world--” she began, but George interrupted her, yelling from the other room.
“James, I’ve got two officers up the road, and they’ve put the call out for a canine unit from the sheriff’s office to search and see if anyone’s still out there. Do you want to try for the cellar or stay here?”
James grimaced, then yelled back. “Here. Too much distance to cover for the cellar.”
“All right. Keep your phone handy. I’ll let you know as soon as the search is finished.”
***
While they waited, James explained to Amanda what had happened. She didn’t take it well.
“They…they did what?” Her eyes were wide with alarm.
Leaning down, James kissed the soft cheek of his horrified wife. “I’m fine. Nothing happened except some idiot taking wild potshots in the woods. We’re just being super cautious.”
“Potshots at you. You sure you’re okay?” She tried to keep the emotional catch out of her voice and failed entirely. “Who was it? Do you know anything?”
“Honey, I don’t know. When you’re in law enforcement, it doesn’t make you very popular with some people. Usually, it’s just threatening letters or making wild statements while they’re getting dragged off to jail. Nothing happens.”
“But this time something did happen.”
James brushed a lock of dark hair back from Amanda’s worried face. “It wasn’t any big deal.”
“So, that’s why you came storming into the house and practically tackled me to the floor?” She shifted, and James leaned over to grab two of the throw pillows off a nearby sofa. She took them gratefully, settling one underneath her back and one between her knees. “So, what do we do now? Just wait?”
James leaned over and rested his forehead against hers. “Until we know it’s safe, yes, we do.”
***
It took almost an hour before the zealous police chief was satisfied there was no more danger and that the shooter had fled the area. A K-9 unit had arrived, and after sniffing around a bit the two Belgian Shepherd police dogs discovered where the gunman had waited for James to approach. A red and black wool scarf was found nearby, and the scent was enough to help the dogs follow the shooter’s path. They tracked it through the woods, up a ridge, and then back toward town, high above the road. After they started turning in circles and whining, the handlers had to admit defeat. The scent had run out.
As soon as James got a text from George, he helped Amanda off the floor and settled her on a sofa. Standing beside her, he shifted from foot to foot restlessly until he heard the Inn’s front door creak open.
“It’s me, James,” George called out, then strode through the foyer and parlor to where Amanda sat. “The trail went cold once we got down by Petrie’s Hardware, but we’ve searched everything around here. The gunman may have gotten into a car there and is long gone. The area’s clear.”
“You sure?” James knew how thorough George was, but he still had to ask. “You didn’t find anything?”
“Yes, I’m sure. There were some smeared tracks on one of the hills, like somebody slid a bit when they were going up the slope, but with this wet weather they weren’t defined enough for us to identify the size or shoe type. The knit scarf may have been from the shooter or it may have been left there by someone else. We’ll process it at the lab, but I don’t expect them to get anything off it.”
“You cleared my house, too?”
George nodded. “Yes, and I have two officers stationed there now, to be sure no one gets in.”
Watching the two lawmen, Amanda had had enough.
“Who did this? How are you going to find them?”
George gave a great sigh and ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. “We’re not sure who the perpetrator is, Amanda, but I can assure you there will be a full investigation into what happened. The sheriff’s office is on the case, too. James and I will be meeting with them first thing tomorrow to draw up a list of possible suspects.” He sighed. “The bad news is there’s a really big list. James has done a stellar job since he joined the force.” He paused. “Unfortunately, that means he’s got a lot of enemies.”
Amanda felt numb. It all seemed like some horrible dream. Her world had been wrapped up in the Inn, her new marriage, a lovely new house, and a baby on the way. Seeing James’ haggard face as he talked quietly to George reminded Amanda Ravenwood Cove wasn’t some little perfect bubble, away from danger. It was part of the big, bad world in ways that made her stomach knot in fear.
George fiddled with his keys and looked at James. “I’ve got my car parked out front, if you want a lift.”
“Sounds good,” James said, helping Amanda out of the plush sofa. “We’ll need to get a few things packed at the house first.”
Amanda turned to her husband, comprehension dawning. “You’re not talking about going to our house, are you?” She blew out a deep breath. “James, are you talking about us going to your parents’ house?”
“Yes, I am. I need to be sure you’re going to be safe, and that’s the best place for you. There’s some nutjob running around, thinking I’m a target, and with that level of lunacy who knows what could happen to you? I’m not taking any chances, and so I’m sending you to stay at the ranch for a few days. I’ve deliberately kept information about my family off the internet but that only goes so far.” He told became softer and he took her hand in his. “I’ll be coming out there as often as possible. It’d be hard for a bad guy to put that info together, unless they’re a local. Also, Dad knows how to protect the ranch and everyone on it. If I had to pack you off to Timbuktu to keep you safe, I’d do that, too.”
Amanda’s eyes flew wide in alarm. “What do you mean, you’re sending me away? I’m your wife, and my place is here with you.”
James sighed, as if he’d been expecting her to say exactly that. He pointed to her protruding belly. “This baby is our priority, and also your safety is my priority. Nothing else matters. Not the Inn, not the house, not our jobs. Nothing.”
“But… I have so much left to do to get ready for the open house! I can’t leave now.” Even as she said the words, she realized how silly they sounded.
“Amanda, if something had happened and the baby came early, or you had to go on bedrest or something like that, you’d already be gone from work. Right now, I don’t know who’s out to get me, but I do know they’re way too close to our house and my family to let you stay where you are.”
She opened her mouth in protest, but he quickly cut her off.
“Lady, I rarely put my foot down, but this is one time I’m not taking no for answer. I’m sending Benson with you, and if I have to pack your bag myself and throw you over my shoulder, I’ll do it. You’re outta here.”
Amanda took a deep breath and studied her husband’s expression. James’ eyes were locked with hers, his mouth was set in a grim lime of determination. She’d rarely seen that look before, but she definitely knew what it meant.
She sighed in defeat.
“So, you think you’re going to try to throw me over your shoulder, like some caveman?” She turned sideways and ran a hand over her distended stomach. “Buddy, as big as I am, you’re gonna need a crane.”
***
It had hurt to call Elizabeth and explain why Amanda had closed the bed and breakfast overnight. With no guests due to arrive until around noon the next day, Amanda wanted to be sure Elizabeth knew about what had happened to James, and why she was going to be out of the area for a while. After the initial flurry of questions and concern, Elizabeth had immediately swung into action. Assuring Amanda she had everything under control, she had listed what she was going to get done. Amanda listened in appreciative silence, marveling once again at what a treasure Elizabeth Porter had turned out to be.
As James had driven her to his parents’ ranch, Amanda’s emotions had swung between worry and a vague feeling of anger. She was worried about his safety, not happy to be quickly whisked away from her home, and furious someone would try to hurt her big-hearted, protective husband. All the way to the ranch, she had one of her hands lying on his forearm, somehow comforted that she could touch the warmth of him and know he was all right.
Her husband’s mood, on the other hand, seemed to stay exactly the same the whole time they drove to the ranch. His eyes were glued on the road, his jaw clenched in determination as he sped along toward safety. George Ortiz’s police cruiser was close behind, in case of any trouble.
Apparently, James had called ahead to let his parents know what had happened and that they were on his way. His folks were waiting and ready by the door when he pulled up by the ranch house. His mother looked worried and had dark circles under her eyes, as though she’d been crying. As soon as James walked around the car and opened Amanda’s car door, Flora Landon was ready to envelop her daughter-in-law in a huge hug.
“Oh, my dear!” she said, leading Amanda toward the house. “What you’ve had to go through! Are you okay?”
Amanda nodded mutely, and Flora’s eyebrows drew together in concern. “I’m so sorry about it all, but we’ll do the best we can to make you feel at home. You’ll be safe here and everything will turn out fine. There are some benefits to being so far out in the country, you know.”
James trailed behind, carrying Amanda’s suitcase and keeping an eye on Benson, who had his head up and was eagerly sniffing the many new scents from the nearby barn. “What am I, chopped liver?” he asked his mother in a teasing tone, and his father laughed.
“When it comes to pregnant daughters-in-law who are in danger, yeah, you are,” he said, right before he gave James a sideways hug.
James sighed. “Do your best to keep her safe.”. It was both plea and command. He tried to keep the emotion out of his statement, but his father knew better
“Son, you know I’ll do my absolute best.” He glanced at Flora and Amanda, his expression stern. “Anyone trying to get to Amanda will have to go through me first.”
Chapter 8
When Amanda woke up the next morning, she opened her eyes and looked around James' childhood bedroom. It hadn't changed much since he'd lived there years ago, with the exception of his narrow bed being replaced by a queen-sized one. Wintry sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains hanging behind heavy plaid drapes, and football trophies still lined the two plywood shelves by his closet. A poster of his favorite rock band from high school was still thumbtacked over the dresser, along with his graduation tassel. The wooden closet door was cracked open enough that she could see the stack of cardboard boxes holding his old toys and clothes, packed up when he'd gone to college years ago. The ranch house he'd grown up in wasn't fancy, but it was full of well-loved furniture and practical reminders of a hardworking family who stuck by each other through thick and thin.
As soon as she looked over the edge of the bed, Benson was staring at her with his big brown eyes and nearly grinning, thumping his tail on the wood floor in happy greeting. James had urged Amanda to keep him with her when she slept, and the easygoing dog had been happy to curl up on the braided wool rug on the wooden floor. To tell the truth, she was glad for the company. It was hard enough to get some sleep with all that had happened and the thought of her furry protector being by her side was comforting.
A quick phone call to James and she was updated on how he was, and what was happening with the investigation. The sheriff’s department had officially taken over the case from George, citing jurisdiction, but the determined police chief had been following along with the situation on his own. It was true he wasn’t particularly thrilled about how another law enforcement agency was interviewing people and patrolling Ravenwood Cove, but Amanda knew George was also driven by his friendship for her and James. He’d texted her already, as did his wife, just to check in, and it gave her a sense of true relief to know the Ortiz family was on their side.
From down the hallway, she could smell bacon cooking and coffee brewing. Amanda smiled and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Digging into her suitcase, she pulled out a change of clothes. It wouldn't do to head to the kitchen in her flannel nightgown.
Comfy pants and a butter-yellow maternity top in place, she padded down the hallway and peeked into the kitchen. Just as she'd suspected, her mother-in-law was at the stove. She was holding a pancake turner in one hand and humming a tune from South Pacific while watching bacon sizzle in a cast iron pan. Benson strolled across the room, his toenails clicking on the linoleum, and his face hopeful for a tasty breakfast.
"Morning, Mom," Amanda said, suddenly feeling a bit shy, but Flora turned around with a huge smile.
"Well, good morning, my dear! You have perfect timing. I just finished filling the bird feeders and started cooking breakfast. Did you sleep all right? How are you feeling today?"
"Oh, fine," Amanda said, then patted her rounded midriff. "Huge. Like I have my own gravitational field."
"Well, then, everything's just exactly as it should be, isn't it?" Flora gestured at an open chair at the long wooden table. "Have a seat. Derek and Donald were up early and are already out at the barn working with the Belgians, so it’s just you and me.” She grabbed a set of tongs and began picking up slices from the cast iron pan. “Bacon makes everything better, and I'd really like to feed you..." she grinned, "and my grandchild."
***
After polishing off a plate full of scrambled eggs and toast, with a side of crispy bacon, Amanda sat back in her seat and smiled across the table at her mother-in-law. "That was delicious. Can I help you with the dishes?"
"Don't you dare," Flora said with a disapproving clucking of her tongue. "You just sit a spell. I've got it all handled."
Amanda watched her mother-in-law carry her dishes away and slot them into the racks in the dishwasher.
The sight of Flora working made Amanda think about the fact her visit was making extra work for her mother-in-law. "I’m really sorry about this, Mom," she said. "I know you weren't expecting me to show up on your doorstep without any notice. I feel like I'm... no help."
Flora shut the dishwasher with an exasperated sigh. "Sweetheart, you need to remember something. You never need to apologize about anything. You're family."
For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was the dishwasher as it started. Finally, Amanda spoke her thoughts.
“I just don’t want to be a burden.”
Wiping her damp hands on a dishtowel, Flora shook her head. “You’ve been around Ravenwood Cove long enough to have seen people going through rough times, haven’t you, Amanda? You remember how the whole family pulled together when James’ father had his stroke, or how you pulled Ethan out of the landslide when it nearly crushed him?” She paused, as if waiting for an answer to her rhetorical question. “That’s what family does. We stick together, and we pull together. It’s nothing that needs to be apologized for or repaid. It’s part of loving each other.” She gave Amanda a small smile. “We’ve had our troubles in the past, and we’ll get through this one, too. Together. You’re part of us.”
In some ways, it was still a foreign concept for Amanda, but she smiled and tried to relax.
"It's just... we didn’t expect to have all this happen." She sighed. "James texted this morning and said there's still no sign of who shot at him. They've had teams out looking around and no luck. He can't even tell me how long he expects me to... be here."
Flora poured herself a cup of coffee, added two cubes of sugar, and slid into a ladderback chair opposite Amanda. "Well, with all the threats he's had from the bad guys he locked up, I still have to say I didn't think something like this would happen." She blew on her coffee, then took a slow sip. "Greentree was probably the worst of the lot. You know, I never heard about most of the stuff James has to deal with, but Greentree was so mouthy about what he wanted to do to get even with James, it actually made the evening news. I was sitting in the living room, watching the TV, and the next thing I know, they're running a clip of Greentree, spouting off about how he wanted to kill my son." She shuddered. "It was awful."
Amanda felt a pang of sympathy for the older woman. "I didn't even know anything had happened until James came charging in the Inn," she said. "I guess I had the music up so loud I didn't even hear the gunshots."
"So, George and Officer Rollins were there right away, though, right?"
"George was, and Burt Harwood."
"The fire chief?" Flora looked surprised. "Why was he there?"
"James said he heard it over the radio and came running." She gave a small shrug. "Rollins didn’t make it there until after everything was over, except for the last search."
"Well, I'm sure he must’ve been busy with something," Flora said loyally. "He's a good man. You ever met his family?"
"No, I haven't."
"Well, if you can avoid meeting them, do. They're all still in Likely, doing who knows what over there, because none of them have jobs or any visible means of an income. To tell you the truth, it's amazing Wayne Rollins was able to become a cop with that sort of background. Most folks in those circumstances would’ve wound up in all sorts of trouble as a teen, and then in jail as an adult." She took another sip of her sweet coffee and changed the subject, while Amanda thought over what she'd said.
"I haven't seen Wendell around town much lately," Flora said with a friendly smile. "How's your father doing these days? Will he be at the holiday open house?"
The thought of her father brought a sudden pang of anxiety to Amanda. They'd come a long way toward establishing an uneasy father/daughter relationship, and when Amanda had finally learned to forgive him for abandoning her as a child, she'd discovered her anger had only been hurting her. Once she’d released it, they'd begun to make tentative steps toward learning a bit about each other. Amanda had discovered they shared a common love of old cowboy movies and a quirky sense of humor, which was a surprise. Her mother had never understood her love of classic comedies, but sitting down with her dad in the living room of her new house and watching old movies had been one of the ways they'd finally been able to connect.
"He's started working for Roy Greeley," she said. "So far, so good. Roy says that even though Wendell can't lift as much or move as fast as the younger guys, he works as hard as he can."
"New job.” Flora clucked in approval. “Well, good for him. Sounds like a great step forward."
"It is. He’s able to pay his own rent now, and I think he likes that." Maybe it was more information than she should give out about her father's circumstances, but he'd been so proud to tell her he didn't need financial help anymore, she couldn’t help but be proud of him, too.
Flora nodded. “It’s nice to be independent."
Amanda sighed and stretched out her sore back. "I wouldn't know. About being independent, I mean. It seems like these days people keep telling me where to go and what to do. I can't eat blue cheese, I can't eat sushi, and now I can't sleep in my own bed." Her tone was more petulant than she'd intended, but her mother-in-law didn’t seem to be fazed at all.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, pretty soon you'll be in charge of someone else, too." She put the coffee cup up to her lips and smiled. "And you can tell that little critter exactly what they can and can’t do. Until they're teenagers. Then all bets are off."
Chapter 9
“I brought some friends home with me.” James’ grin was huge, and he stepped aside as soon as he walked in his parents’ house. Amanda gasped to see the cluster of folks behind him. Lisa, Meg, and Truman were peeking around her husband’s shoulders. Sage hung back a bit, his hands cradling something heavy in a canvas bag, and the local pastor, Thomas Fox, was holding an ice cream churn.
Brushing past James, Meg barreled in and kissed her delighted friend on the cheek. “Your hubby said you might need some cheering up, and so we’ve brought the party to you. Are you up for some cards tonight?”
“Cards, schmards,” Sage said dismissively as he walked inside and set the bag down on the wooden floor with a loud thud. “What’s for dinner?”
The teen’s blunt comments instantly earned him a playful smack on the back of his head from his aunt. Flora poked her head out from the kitchen doorway, wooden spoon in hand. “How’s spaghetti with homemade sausage meatballs sound? I’ve got garlic bread in the oven, too!”
Sage’s delighted grin was apparently the response Flora had been hoping for, because she smiled back and disappeared into the kitchen, humming happily to herself.
The long harvest table was full of great food and laughter that night, and it was exactly what Amanda needed. Her father-in-law kept the laughter going with stories of his children’s teen years and a series of painfully bad puns. James seemed intent on sucking up to his dog, who didn’t understand why he’d been banished from his home and spent the evening moping and making sad eyes at his apologetic master. After dinner a deck of cards was produced and a lively and fiercely competitive game of gin was soon in full swing, with shouts of laughter and occasional scowls from the players, depending how the cards were dealt. The spicy spaghetti had been a big hit, followed up by Flora’s famous blackberry cobbler with hand-churned ice cream. After his third bowl of dessert, Sage hadn’t complained at all when he’d been shanghaied to help with kitchen dish detail.
As soon as the teen was safely out of earshot and cracking jokes with Derek, Meg leaned forward across the table, her face flushed with expectation. “Hey, listen up, everybody,” she said, her eyes darting around the group of friends looking at her with anticipation. “I’ve got some news, and it’s probably best you all hear it from me first.” She paused, smiling enigmatically, making sure she had everyone’s attention. “My mother’s coming back to Ravenwood Cove to live.”
“Your mother?” Amanda blurted out, then instantly regretted it. In all the time since she’d been close friends with Meg, she’d heard next to nothing about Meg’s flamboyant mother. The previous spring in Ravenwood Cove, when it was first warm and she was sipping wine with Lisa and Meg on the broad front porch of the Inn, Meg had randomly mentioned her mother was living in a commune in Portugal. When Amanda had asked for more information, Meg had suddenly clammed up and changed the subject. Amanda had seen the hurt in her friend’s eyes and hadn’t broached the subject again, even though she’d been curious about what Meg wasn’t able to say.
Looking across at her friend’s flushed face, she could see Meg was excited about the news.
“And that’s not all!” Meg continued. “She was staying with a friend in Vegas and hit a progressive jackpot at one of the big casinos.” Her grin was huge, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “She’s coming back to Ravenwood Cove, and she’d put in an offer to buy Buster Radcliffe’s old place!”
Flora’s eyebrows went up. “They’re going to sell that huge house that killed Radcliffe? Can they do that?” She swiveled her gaze around the folks clustered at her table. “I mean, is it safe to live there now?”
James put up a calming hand. “I got the details from George, and yes, it’s all been cleared as being safe. The city paid for a professional abatement company to come in and remove the tin ceiling. They cleaned up everything and made sure there wasn’t any thallium left. From what I hear, the old place is ready for its next occupant.” He smiled at Meg. “Your mom was always nice to me. I hope Valerie will be very happy living here. How’s Mrs. Granger taking the news?”
Meg suddenly looked deflated. “Um, not well, actually. She said she wanted to stay home tonight to handwash the lace drapes in her bathroom, but I caught her pulling out some old photo albums just as I was leaving.” She paused. “I asked if she wanted me to stay, but she shooed me away and told me to go on without her. That’s never a good sign.”
Nodding, James glanced at Amanda, his eyes full of concern. “Sounds like it.”
Meg sighed. “To tell the truth, I was hoping she’d kind of focus on the new Ravenwood Cove museum instead of my mom. Now that Radcliffe’s house has sold, the historical society gets the money from it, and Gran will be really busy with setting everything up.”
Grimacing in sympathy, James said, “If you think it might help, I’ll swing by tomorrow morning and let her cook me breakfast. Maybe I can get her to talk about it.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Meg said with a snort of disbelief. You ever tried to change my grandmother’s mind? It’d take a miracle from God to be able to do that.”
Reverend Thomas cleared his throat. “You know, miracles have been known to happen sometimes.”
“Well, we’re going to need one. A great, big fat one with silver bells on it.”
Amanda could see there was some sort of unspoken story behind Meg’s unhappy statement, and from glancing around the room she could see other people were thinking the same thing. Making a mental note to privately ask James if he knew anything about the matter later, Amanda fussed with her fanned cards a bit, then laid them down on the table in front of her.
“Gin.”
Well, it was one way to change the subject.
There was a good-natured outcry from the other players, griping about their own bad luck and teasing Amanda about her win. Meg may have complained the loudest, and Amanda had an inkling she was more than happy the topic of conversation had been changed abruptly.
James gave his wife a kiss, then leaned toward her ear. “How are you holding up, lady? Ready for us to call it a night?”
Amanda was just about to admit that her back wasn’t happy with her sitting in the wooden chair and that she’d love to head to bed, when James’ phone rang. He glanced at the screen. Judging it important enough to answer, he tapped a button and held it up to his ear.
“Landon.”
He listened carefully, the only sound in the room from Reverend Tom as he cut the cards to deal out a fresh hand.
James’ eyes flicked to Amanda’s face.
“Well, that’s good to know. Thanks, Charlie. Let me know if there’s any update, okay?” He put the phone down and disconnected the call.
“That was the sheriff. There was a body found at the Greyhound depot in Boise.” James blew out a long, slow breath. “They’re not a hundred percent sure, but from all appearances, the man seems to be Roger Greentree. They found his ID in his coat pocket.”
He looked at Amanda, his face sober. “He’d been shot in the head.”
Chapter 10
It was four more days before James was satisfied it was safe enough for Amanda to return home. He’d kept her apprised of everything he was doing, even showing her the footage from hidden surveillance cameras he’d put up around the Inn and their house. With additional assurances from the Boise coroner that the body in the morgue belonged to Greentree, he’d been only too happy to help pack his wife’s suitcase and bring her back home.
Even though Amanda had only stayed with her in-laws for a short while, in some ways it had seemed like forever. Flora had done her absolute best to be as sweet as possible to her very pregnant daughter-in-law, but Amanda was more than ready for the comfort of her own home and routine. While she was at the ranch, Amanda had tried to keep busy. She spent the time updating the Inn's webpage and putting together her tax information from the business to send to Mr. Hensley, her accountant. Jennifer had been giving her daily updates on what was going on with the Inn, including the fact that Oscar seemed to be searching every room for Amanda, even plaintively meowing as he looked for her. That hurt to hear, because she truly loved the big orange cat, and it just made her want to get back home more than ever. She'd gone out to the barn to visit Bongo a couple of times, the colt she'd seen born the year before, and James came back to spend every night at the ranch, but it still felt lonely. It wasn’t Ravenwood Cove. Maybe the constant stream of new guests at the Inn and friends around town meant more to her than she thought.
She missed it, and the drive back to her house couldn’t end soon enough.
When James had pulled into their home’s driveway and opened the car door, Benson was out like a shot, heading straight for the front porch. Tongue lolling, tail wagging, it was apparent his mistress wasn’t the only one who'd been a bit homesick.
Amanda looked at the ribbon-wrapped cedar garlands James had strung over the front door and sighed happily. Little white lights were twisted through it, and more lights were wrapped in red and white spirals down the porch’s two fat columns. She’d been a bit surprised James hadn’t opened up the garage and driven inside, but now she knew why. He’d wanted her to see what he’d done, and she could feel him watching her, and smiling.
“I thought this might show you how happy I am you’re back.”
"Honey, it’s beautiful.” She smiled at him. “Dorothy was right. There's no place like home," she commented, and James laughed.
"Especially when you're about nine months pregnant and want to sleep in your own bed, right?" he asked. They got out of the car and he unlocked the front door, then ushered her through the entryway. Setting her suitcase down by the wall, James straightened up and shrugged out of his jacket. "I was supposed to go play fiddle at the VFW dance tonight, but I told the boys they'll have to get Winslow to come play instead. From now on, I'm going to stick close to home."
"Oh, you didn't have to do that," Amanda said, even though the thought of a quiet night with her husband sounded like a wonderful idea, but James gave her a look as if she'd lost her mind.
"Lady, you're lucky I don't just chain you to my side. I feel like I want to put you in a tank and blast anyone who comes near you." He gave Amanda a quick kiss. "It’s my job to keep you safe, and you’re just going to have to get used to that.”
Amanda grinned wearily. “I could probably get used to that.”
She stepped aside to let Benson go running by her, into the house, then followed him into the kitchen. Benson was already making sure his food bowl was exactly where he left it, and wagging his tail with unbridled joy.
Amanda chuckled, then looked into the living room and gave a gasp of surprise.
“You decorated the Christmas tree all by yourself?”
James had shown up with the fresh-cut tree just the day before the shooting, and there hadn’t been time to trim it. He’d obviously been busy since then, and the tall noble fir blazed with twinkling colored lights and loops of sparkling garlands, and was scattered with colorful glass balls. The mantel was topped with cedar boughs, and their stockings were hung on either side of the fireplace. Next to Amanda’s was a new, tiny one, knit in soft white yarn, and embellished with the word BABY in scrolling letters.
“Do you like it? I asked Mrs. Granger to make the little stocking.” From the hope in James’ voice, Amanda didn’t need to see his face. She could tell her husband already knew the answer to his question.
“It’s gorgeous.” She set her purse down on the kitchen counter. A familiar wave of emotion welled up inside her, and Amanda did her best to stop the tears that threatened to spill over. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the fatigue which seemed to hit her more and more often, but this Christmas seemed especially precious to her. The fact James had thought to decorate for her homecoming touched her deeply.
She could feel James watching her as she gulped a bit to tamp down the sudden emotion caught in her throat.
“I’m glad you like it. I couldn’t see you standing on a chair and trying to hang ornaments on it this year,” he said. Maybe it was because he could tell his wife was trying not to collapse in an emotional puddle, because James pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and got two glasses from the cupboard. Pouring the juice, he grinned at his wife. “So, do you want to hear the local gossip?”
“You know I always do,” Amanda said as she slid onto a stool at the kitchen island, and James smiled.
“So, Mom didn’t tell you about Sage's newest escapade, did she? George got a call at the station this morning."
"Uh oh," Amanda said. She had a soft spot for Lisa's teenage nephew, even if it seemed like he was always somehow getting in trouble. He'd been living with Lisa for over a year, after a string of issues at his old school and his drug-addicted mother had walked out of his life. Even though Amanda’s friend Truman had taken Sage under his wing as an employer and mentor, somehow Sage always wound up on the wrong side of what townspeople considered acceptable.
"What’s he done now?" she asked, a tone of resignation in her voice.
"I guess Lisa bought him a new drone for his birthday, and he's been flying it over by Mr. Quincy’s house. You can guess how that played out."
"Oh, boy," Amanda said, blowing out a deep breath. Mr. Quincy was an elderly bachelor who lived at the edge of the town. It was universally known he was cranky about his privacy and about anything else he could think of. His long-running grudges with his neighbors had become the stuff of Ravenwood Cove legend. The one time he’d discovered an early morning boat speeding away from his crap pot with their buckets full of poached crabs, Mr. Quincy stormed into the police station in a rage and demanded an FBI investigation into who the owner of the boat was. It had taken weeks before he stopped griping about it publicly.
James put the juice back in the fridge and set a full glass in front of Amanda. "Sage says he was just trying to get a closeup look at a hawk's nest in Mr. Quincy’s big fir tree by the road, but the old man thinks he was spying. He says he saw the drone looking in his bathroom window while he was taking a shower."
"That’s crazy! Sage would never do that," Amanda said staunchly. "You know it and I know it."
“Yes, of course we do,” James said in agreement. “But George still needs to deal with the complaint. Sage’s counselor at the high school called me, too. Apparently Sage doesn’t want to go to college now, and Mrs. Parker thought I’d be a good authority figure to talk to him about choices for his future. George’s had to deal with that teen too much in his role as a cop to have Sage listen to him at all.” He grimaced. “I think they’re both kind of fed up with each other.”
Amanda eased into a ladderback chair at the kitchen table and rested both hands on her mounded belly. “Are you sure you want to get in the middle of that? You know Lisa’s views on Sage going to college. He’s a bright kid.”
It was true Lisa had definitely made her opinions known on that subject, several times. She’d done her best to line up financial aid and college applications, taking time out from her job as the editor and main reporter for the Ravenwood Tide newspaper. More than once she’d confided in Amanda that she was worried her wild nephew was throwing away a possible future by wanting to work on cars instead of studying for a degree.
Amanda knew the value of college, but she also knew her strong-willed detective husband had his own opinions. She wasn’t surprised by his response.
“Not everyone’s cut out for college or for how it prepares people for careers. Did you know Bad Boy Motors is getting more and more business? Sage told me they’ve been in profit for the last four months, and that they’re even able to pay Harvey now.” He opened the refrigerator door and rustled around inside, finally emerging with a jug of orange juice. Opening the overhead cupboard door, he pulled out two glasses. “College is expensive, and if Sage wants to go to a four-year school later that’s great, but maybe it’s not the best path for him right now. He told me he wants to go to a trade school so he can learn more about engines. He says there’s a good one in Eugene, for getting certified as a diesel mechanic. There’s a lot of need for diesel mechanics, especially with all the boats and big equipment in this area.” He shrugged. “I can’t argue with his reasoning, actually. Sage seems to love the idea, and mechanics make good money, you know.”
“Really?” She took the glass of juice her husband offered. “I doubt Lisa will approve of that.”
Sliding into the chair opposite her, James set down his juice. “She may not be happy about it, but she may not have a choice. Sage isn’t going to be a minor for much longer. Once he’s eighteen he can legally make his own decisions, even if his aunt doesn’t approve.”
A slow smile spread across Amanda’s face. “So, let me get this straight.” She held up one hand and started ticking items off her fingers as she went through the list. “You’ve been dealing with the investigation into who tried to shoot you, plus George, me, Sage, school counselors, and Mr. Quincy thinking someone wants to see him naked?”
James chuckled. “Oh, there’s much more than that. I forgot to tell you about a stolen boat in the marina, Mrs. Granger wanting me to come chop wood in my copious spare time, and someone doing a dine-and-dash at Ivy’s that made Ruby chase him down the street with the bill. Oh, and George wants us to come over and play some cards tomorrow night, if you’re up to it.”
"So, in other words, life as usual in Ravenwood Cove," she said, and when James nodded she gave a happy sigh.
"And that suits me just fine. It’s good to be home."
Chapter 11
“I could eat my weight in chocolate silk pie,” Amanda said happily, sitting back in the restaurant booth. “I swear, Ivy’s always has the best desserts,” she told her father. “I need to come here more often.”
Wendell had the good manners not to comment on the enormous size of the bite his pregnant daughter had just taken. Leaning on the scrubbed wooden tabletop across from her, he cradled a mug of hot tea, his eyes sparkling in suppressed humor.
Glancing up, Amanda caught his amusement and smiled back. “I know, I’m forgetting my manners. You’ve never seen anyone wolf down their food like this, right?” she asked in a teasing tone, but her dad instantly shook his head.
“Oh, I’ve seen folks eat faster than that. Never seen chow time at a prison, have you? You always eat as quick as you can, so nobody messes with you,” he said., then clapped his lips together, as if he suddenly regretted his statement. He’d been estranged from his only child for years while he was incarcerated, and it was still a bit of a sore subject between them.
Amanda chose to ignore it. “Well, I am eating for two,” she said, then grinned. “Sometimes it feels like I’m eating for an entire football team.”
Not knowing what to say, Wendell slurped his cooling tea. Amanda could see Ruby walking toward them, a glass carafe of fresh coffee in one hand and her eyes constantly scanning the tables and customers to see who needed a hot refill. As soon as she saw Amanda she broke into a smile and stopped at the end of their booth.
Opening her mouth to greet her, Amanda was surprised when Ruby turned toward Wendell.
“How ya doin’, Wendell? How’s that new job going? You need me to bring some more hot water for your tea?” Her smile was warm and genuine, and Amanda saw her father’s gaze drop to the tabletop in sudden embarrassment.
“No, thanks, Ruby. I’m fine.” His voice was low and just above a whisper.
“Okay, but if you need anything you just let me know, all right?” Ruby said, then gave Amanda a friendly smile before sauntering off in search of other cups to fill.
“I didn’t know you came in here enough to know Ruby,” Amanda said, and Wendell glanced sideways at Ruby’s retreating form.
“Um, I come in here quite a bit, actually,” he said, his voice trailing off. Looking up at Amanda, he took in a sharp intake of breath, then his words came out in a sudden jumble. “I started coming here for meetings during the week,” he said, and when he didn’t see any sort of negative reaction from his daughter he went on.
“I’ve joined the Alcoholics Anonymous group here. We meet in the backroom and Ruby knows all the people who show up every week.” He gulped. “It’s been really nice having someone know about my past, and that I’m an alcoholic.” Pausing, he locked eyes with his daughter. “And who doesn’t treat me like I’m trash. Ruby always treats me good.”
His words were painful and raw, and Amanda could feel tears spring to her eyes when she heard them. Years of a very tough life, made worse by alcohol and his own choices. It couldn’t be easy trying to make things right.
“You joined AA?”
Wendell slowly nodded, his faded eyes never leaving Amanda’s face. “If I’m going to be around to play with my first grandchild, I figured I’d better get off the booze. Otherwise, there’s no way you or James would let me be in the kid’s life.” He gave a tremulous smile. “You’d be surprised who shows up at the meetings here. I’ve actually made some new friends. Maureen Templeton comes, and even that cousin of the preacher, what’s-his-name. Mrs. Penn shows up every week and always saves me a seat at the meetings.” He smiled. “She’s really chatty. Everyone’s real nice.”
Chocolate pie now forgotten, Amanda reached over and set a gentle hand on her father’s plaid shirtsleeve.
“I’m so proud of you.”
Slowly, magically, the older man’s face relaxed, as though he’d been holding his breath. He reached a rough hand over and patted Amanda’s wrist.
“Thank you. Just don’t be surprised if I turn down a drink at any of your parties, okay? Or if I decide not to show up. It’s still hard for me to be around people who are drinking.”
“Deal.” Amanda made a mental note to be more aware of people who struggled with alcoholism, and to be sure to provide several types of non-alcoholic drinks at any of her parties in the future. Maybe it would be a good idea to have some alcohol-free gatherings, too, so no one would feel uncomfortable.
“So, let’s change the subject,” Wendell said, after taking a quick gulp of his tea. “I want you to tell me how you and James are going to guarantee your safety, after what happened the other night.” His eyebrows drew together in concern. “I know he’s a detective and all, but are you two sure it’s okay you’re back at home? What is someone else shows up on your doorstep and wants to do you harm?”
Amanda smiled and shook her head. “Dad, I trust James. No one is more of a watchdog than that husband of mine, I can promise you. The whole time I was gone at the ranch he was beefing up security at home, even while he was helping with the investigation.”
“What do you mean, beefing up security? Like getting you a bodyguard or something?” Wendell leaned forward in sudden interest.
Amanda took a quick bite of her pie before setting down her fork, then quickly swallowed. “No, but he’s put security cameras around the house and the Inn, and they will show anyone who’s coming or going. I guess Officer Rollins got a good deal Black Friday on some sort of remote camera setup, and he sold it to James at cost.”
“That’s great,” Wendell said, then smiled. “Sounds like he’s taking real good care of my girl.”
Wendell’s words caught Amanda off guard a bit. She’d gotten used to people knowing Wendell was her father, but he normally didn’t use any sort of endearments. He certainly hadn’t called her ‘his girl’ before.
“So, have you heard anything new about the guy who tried to shoot James?” he asked.
Glancing at a nearby booth, Amanda could see Mrs. Bitterman and Reverend Tom Fox, where they’d been quietly making plans for which flowers they wanted to plant around the church to get the best spring blooms. While Tom was talking away, listing his favorite types of azaleas, Mrs. Bitterman was actually leaning over a bit toward Amanda, her attention obviously on Amanda’s conversation with Wendell instead of the good reverend’s opinions about flowering shrubs.
Even though Mrs. Bitterman was one of the first people she’d made friends with in Ravenwood Cove and she was a fast friend to Mrs. Granger, Amanda couldn’t help but feel irritated. Her father’s alcoholism and his personal feelings about whether he wanted his new AA membership known or not was a private matter.
Very private, and to be kept in the family.
Her family.
Amanda could feel a surge of protectiveness, and gave a short huff of frustration. “Would you like me to speak up a bit, Mrs. Bitterman?” she said loudly, and the chatter at the nearby tables fell silent. The old lady’s pale face flushed with emotion.
“I’m not… I mean, well I guess I was…” she stammered. She looked apologetic, her eyebrows knit together in contrition.
“Look, I’m sorry for eavesdropping a bit, but I was wondering what was going on with the investigation. That’s all. We haven’t had much news about it lately, and a lot of us here in town don’t feel safe until that guy with a gun gets caught.” The elderly lady, normally so calm, seemed a bit rattled. “I mean, we heard about them finding that guy dead in Idaho, but what if it wasn’t him? I mean, he could’ve traveled here and then caught a train or bus or whatever back to Idaho, but what if he didn’t?”
Amanda could feel her face flush with sudden emotion. “They found him at the bus station. There was a witness who said they’d seen him on a bus back in Burns, and maybe as far back as Bend. All the evidence points to him going to Idaho after being in Oregon, and that means he probably was the shooter here.”
Mrs. Bitterman’s eyes were wide with concern, and Amanda could hear Wendell step out of the booth and come stand beside her. He laid a hand on Amanda’s shoulder, then cleared his throat as he turned toward Mrs. Bitterman.
“Ma’am, we appreciate your concern, but I’m sure you don’t want to spread any rumors about this, do you?”
Amanda turned and looked at Wendell. His face was nearly purple with suppressed anger, and she reached up to hold his hand. His fingers gripped hers tightly, and she could feel him shaking a bit.
“I… I…” Mrs. Bitterman stammered for a moment. “I never meant to spread stories, and I surely didn’t mean to upset anyone. I’m so sorry, Amanda!”
From the nearly frantic expression on her face, Amanda could see she was telling the truth. A pang of guilt stabbed her. Mrs. Bitterman wasn’t known to be a gossip, and Amanda hadn’t really considered all the ramifications her family’s situation made for the rest of Ravenwood Cove. Of course people would be scared or want to know what was happening. There hadn’t been any updates after the last bit of information came out, that Greentree’s body had been found at the bus station in Boise. Lisa wrote most of the articles in the Ravenwood Tide, and if the police hadn’t informed her of anything new, there was nothing for her to print about the situation.
“I’m sorry,” Amanda said soothingly and she meant it. “Of course you’d want to know what’s going on, but the truth is there hasn’t been anything new for a few days. I’m sure the paper will print any updates, if there are any,” she said, but Mrs. Bitterman shook her head.
“Really, I didn’t mean to upset you, Amanda,” she said, her lips trembling with emotion.
Amanda stood up. “Oh, honey, it’s fine,” Amanda nearly crooned as she waddled over and wrapped her arms around the old lady in a gentle hug. “We all want things to be calm and safe around Ravenwood Cove, don’t we?” She drew back a bit and smiled, glad to see Mrs. Bitterman attempting a tremulous smile in return. “Let’s get together for a nice visit soon, okay? It’s been far too long, and I’d love to hear how your new Zumba class is going. Things have been so chaotic lately we just haven’t had a chance to chat.”
“Oh, there’s no need for you to apologize, my dear,” Mrs. Bitterman assured her. “Katherine and I have been completely occupied with setting up the new museum. We’ve been kind of out of the loop of things, what with Valerie moving here and all.”
With a start, Amanda realized she hadn’t seen Mrs. Granger since before she’d been unceremoniously packed off to the ranch. They’d called each other on the phone a couple of times, but when Amanda had brought up the fact that Mrs. Granger’s daughter was moving back to town, there had been stony silence and a quick change of subject. It didn’t’ take a genius to figure out that the old lady did not want to discuss the situation about her daughter at all.
With a final friendly hug, Amanda and Mrs. Bitterman said their goodbyes. Wendell handed Amanda her purse and the two walked out together, into the wintry cold of downtown Ravenwood Cove. She pressed the key fob to unlock her car and settled into the driver’s seat as her father buckled his seatbelt next to her.
Just as she turned the key in the ignition, Wendell loudly cleared his throat, almost as if he were making an announcement.
When Amanda turned to look at him, he was staring straight ahead, his face deadly serious.
“What if she’s right?” he asked, almost as if saying it to himself. “What if Greentree wasn’t actually here in town and someone else did the shooting?”
He turned to Amanda, his eyes wide with worry.
“What if someone else was shooting that gun?”
Chapter 12
“Well, well, well…” Grace Two Horses said with a slow smile. “I wondered if you were ever going to show up here. We do have toys and stuff for newborns, you know.”
Amanda grinned back at her raven-haired friend. Grace was sitting on a tall stool behind the toy store’s cash register and sporting an enormous hat that looked like an iridescent green dragon head. The white felt teeth were a little terrifying but the googly eyes spun around comically as Grace moved.
“What? Something like that?” Amanda asked, pointing at the monstrosity Grace was wearing on her head. “No way. It would give my baby nightmares. The poor kid would need years of therapy. You know I can’t afford that.”
Grace laughed good-naturedly and carefully pulled the hat off, setting it on the nearby set of shelves and then running a smoothing hand over her hair. “Okay, you may have a point. How about a nice stuffed animal or binky holder instead? We just got in a couple of different types of mobiles to hang over a newborn’s crib, and the back shelf has some toys designed for teething babies, too.”
Amanda was just about to answer her when a sudden, scared look flashed across Grace's face. "I mean... I guess that's not such a good idea. You never know..." she faltered a bit, seemingly searching for words. "Um, you never know what someone may get for you when you have a new baby. You wouldn’t want to duplicate anything, right?"
Amanda tried not to laugh out loud. For the past month, she'd had an inkling that people were quietly plotting a secret baby shower for her. Twice she’d walked in on clusters of chatting women who suddenly clapped their mouths shut in total silence when they realized she was in earshot. It didn't take a degree in rocket science to figure out that secrets and shenanigans were afoot, and they all involved her and her baby. The utter lack of people asking her if anyone was throwing her a shower was also a red-hot clue, as the women she knew were always abuzz over putting together parties and celebrations.
Smiling warmly, she let Grace off the hook. "It's okay, Grace." She leaned forward, dropping her voice a bit as if sharing a secret. "I've been suspicious there's a baby shower being planned for a while now, and I promise I won't let on that I know."
Grace let out a relieved huff of air. "Oh, thank goodness! I was worried I'd completely blown the surprise. Don't tell anyone I spilled the beans, okay, Amanda? I'd hate for them to think I'd spoiled their fun." She made a face of regret. “Or yours.”
Amanda was just about to reassure her friend that her secret was safe, when a middle-aged woman with red hair, faded from being too long between dye jobs, popped her head around the corner of the musical instrument rack. She peered at Amanda with unusual interest.
“You’re Amanda? I mean, of course, you’re Amanda Landon!” She strode toward the counter, her long gauze skirt flowing around her tanned legs, a grin on her weathered face. Thrusting out an open hand, she said, "I've heard all about you. I'm Meg's mom, Valerie."
"Oh, Meg's mom!" Amanda shook the freckled hand eagerly, instantly noticing the resemblance the woman had to her friend Meg. "I'm so glad to meet you, Valerie. Welcome to Ravenwood Cove!"
“Well, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me,” Valerie said with a nervous giggle, taking her hand back and twisting one of the heavy silver rings she wore around her index finger. “I haven’t been here in Ravenwood for a long time, and…” her voice trailed off, “—people talk sometimes, you know. Even if they don’t know the whole story.”
Amanda gave her a reassuring smile and tried to ignore the fact that her baby was apparently wanting to tap dance inside her just then. “My husband is James Landon. I don’t know if you remember him at all but he sure does remember you. He says you were always very kind to him.”
“Oh, I remember him.” Valerie gave a short bark of surprised laughter. “That little tadpole? He was always the one chasing the girls when I knew him. I used to wonder what he’d do if he ever caught one.” She looked pointedly at Amanda’s baby bump and raised one over-tweezed eyebrow. “Apparently he finally did!”
For some reason, the woman’s comment instantly irritated Amanda. Even if she was Meg’s mother, there was an abrasiveness about Valerie that rubbed her the wrong way.
Not sure what to say, Amanda was just opening her mouth to retort when the bell at the front of the shop tinkled in merry greeting.
“Well, well. What are you doing out walking around town, young lady?” a very familiar ninety-year-old voice asked. Before she turned around, Amanda knew who it was, even if she hadn’t heard the faint squeaking from the wheels on Mrs. Granger’s walker. “Shouldn’t you be at home, propping up your feet and having that husband of yours bring you goodies to eat?”
Amanda chuckled and was just about to flip back a snarky response when she could see Mrs. Granger’s eyes widen in sudden shock. The little lady straightened herself up as she peered past Amanda’s shoulder, her mouth twisted into a sour expression Amanda had never seen before.
“What are you doing here?” Mrs. Granger barked, and Amanda suddenly realized her anger was being directed at her daughter, Valerie. “Shouldn’t you be out stabbing someone in the back, or in a bar somewhere with the husband of your best friend?”
Valerie's face went through a nearly instantaneous slideshow of emotions, from surprise to fear to clenched-jaw belligerence.
"Mother." It was a cool acknowledgment of her presence, nothing more.
Wow, you could chip ice out of that response, Amanda thought, a bit appalled. She stepped back a bit so Mrs. Granger could push her wheeled walker past her.
"Mrs. Hudson." The old lady greeted her daughter gravely, running her gaze over her in a disapproving way.
Valerie gave a dramatic sigh and glared. "Really, Mother? After all this time, you're still mad at me?" She crossed her arms across her ample chest, setting back on her heels a bit so she could look down her nose at the diminutive ninety-year-old standing in front of her. "You're not even going to give me a chance to explain anything are you, but you're just going to be rude to me in front of both these ladies." She glanced at Amanda, then back at her mother. "You know, I didn't come to Ravenwood Cove to pick a fight with you. I came back because this is where my daughter is now, and where I grew up. I'm already making friends here. Good friends, respectable friends. Columbia's helping me plan what needs to be done to the house before I move in, and Officer Rollins gave me some great ideas on how to invest my money.”
“Respectable. Now, there’s an interesting word.”
“Mother, you can either sit down and talk with me about things or you're just going to have to ignore me when we pass each other on the street. Which is it going to be?"
Mrs. Granger straightened herself up to her full height of almost five feet and stared her daughter straight in the face.
"What are you worried about, Mrs. Hudson? Think I'm going to throw rocks at you when I see you out shopping?" She gave a loud harrumph of displeasure. "Thank heavens your father isn’t alive to see you back in Ravenwood. Ignoring you works just fine for me!"
"Fine," Valerie said tightly, and her mother nodded in curt agreement.
"Fine!" she barked back.
Amanda glanced over at Grace. She could tell the shopkeeper was just as embarrassed to witness the heated exchange as she was. Taking a tentative step backward, she tried to edge toward the door but Mrs. Granger's words stopped her.
"Can you give me a ride to Cuppa, 'Manda?" the old lady proposed, turning her back on her flustered daughter. “I told Meg I'd come by so she could take me home after work. Or maybe we could stop for a beer. I could use one right about now."
"Sure, I can give you a ride. No promises about the beer." Amanda caught Grace's eye, silently signaling her apologies for their interrupted conversation, then pushed the door open and stepped on the sidewalk of the main street.
The heady aroma of melted chocolate and bubbling caramel wafting out of the Bake Me Happy bakery and candy shop was almost enough to divert her attention from Mrs. Granger. When James had seen Amanda wolf down a big plate of Chinese food and ten minutes later had her head in the fridge to find something else to eat, he’d teased her about it, but she’d been a bit embarrassed. Eating for two meant delectable aromas made her tummy rumble, but she tried to push it to the back of her mind. She’d get a cinnamon roll at Cuppa.
Or maybe two.
She loitered for a moment, looking longingly at the front window full of a huge display of cookies and tall frosted cakes, as Mrs. Granger strode on ahead. The old lady was pushing her walker down the concrete sidewalk as if she was angry at it, muttering incomprehensible words of frustration that were probably best Amanda couldn't hear clearly.
With a resigned sigh, Amanda turned to follow Mrs. Granger toward the car, when a young woman nearly collided with her. Spiky blonde hair peeked out from underneath a red knitted cap and her brown eyes burned with anger. The woman jammed her hands deep into the pockets of her red nylon jacket and made a loud sound of irritation, as if Amanda was deliberately trying to smack into people.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” the woman nearly growled. “Just because you’re big as a house doesn’t mean you get to take up the whole sidewalk, you know.” The bridge of her nose was sprinkled with a sharp splash of freckles, and a silver ring was set in her left nostril.
“Well, I…” Amanda could feel her face flush in sudden embarrassment and a bit of frustration. “I didn’t mean to—” she started to say, but the young woman was already walking away with brisk strides as she wiped her nose with a gloved hand.
Amanda blew out a huff of frustration, then hurried to catch up to Mrs. Granger.
By the time they pulled up next to the Cuppa Coffeeshop it seemed like Mrs. Granger's anger had lost some of its steam. Her lined face drooped with fatigue and sadness as she stared glumly out the windshield, her thoughts far away.
Amanda turned off the ignition, but instead of opening the car door and hefting her awkward bulk out she sat in silence, watching her ancient friend. The rage Mrs. Granger had displayed in the toy shop had been difficult to watch, and Amanda was pretty certain that it was some unspoken pain that had caused it to flare up in the first place.
She waited, watching Mrs. Granger’s face, for one heartbeat, then two, then three, before Mrs. Granger finally spoke.
"I suppose I made a damn fool of myself in there, didn't I?"
Amanda shook her head. "You're not a fool. Not to me."
The old lady twisted her lips in thought for a couple of seconds. "She just makes me so mad sometimes, I can't help it. I do my best to be a good Christian, but... sometimes it's really hard. We’ve had a lot of things happen in the past that get in the way. That's all. Why can I get along with almost everyone in this little town and I still want to throw things at my own daughter?"
Amanda took a deep breath and said a one-word prayer.
Help.
Maybe God could give her the right words. On her own, she felt helpless to ease the suffering she saw on the face of her dear friend. The best she could do was try.
"Maybe it's because the people we love have the most power to hurt us." The inside of the car seemed like a warm haven, holding back the cold wind that swirled outside. The close quarters and blocked out world seemed like the best place to talk about things, even if they were painful.
When she didn’t get a response, Amanda did her best to make her next words very gentle. "How long has it been since you saw Valerie?"
She got a disgusted grunt in reply.
"Well, it's kind of hard to say. Should I count the time she accused Hubert's best friend of putting his hands on her and sending him to jail when he was innocent?” She paused, her face hard. “Or should I count from when she told me off and then ran out of town to marry that loser, Jacob Hudson?" She turned to look at Amanda, the gravity of her age and anger evident on every ancient groove on her face, every deep line around flint-hard eyes. "You wouldn’t believe the things she said to me! I learned some brand-new words that day, let me tell you. She said it all, to me, her own mother!" She gulped a bit, as if throttling the emotions trying to choke her. "By the time her awful husband dropped Meg off at my house with only one stuffed animal and the clothes on her back, Valerie was long gone."
She paused, her lips quivering. “I can forgive how she treated me, but I’m not sure I can forgive what she did to that innocent toddler. Meg deserved better.”
In the years Amanda had been in Ravenwood Cove, her eternally bubbly friend Meg had always seemed to be the most upbeat, positive person in the crowd. She'd never talked about her past, except to show over and over again how much she adored her aging grandmother, even when the old lady’s eccentricities drove her crazy. This was a whole side of Meg’s history that Amanda had known nothing about, and it was both sad and chilling.
There wasn't anything brilliant she could say that would fix decades of hurt this painful and deep, so she said the only thing that she could.
"I'm so sorry, Gran. I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you."
Mrs. Granger nodded her head in acknowledgment. "I appreciate that, honey, I really do." She looked down at her blue-veined hands, fiddling a bit with her worn wedding ring. "It wouldn't be so awful if what she'd done hadn’t hurt Hubert as bad as it did. You wouldn’t believe the things people thought about his friend, and Hubert never recovered from the scandal she caused. His health was never the same after that." She sighed. "The fact that the girl I birthed not only lied about what happened to her, but then abandoned her own child... well, what sort of a person does things like that? I ask you, who?"
Amanda reached across the seats and took Mrs. Granger’s hand in hers. The old lady sighed as she looked at it, and patted it softly.
“And how am I going to deal with talking to my granddaughter about her mother’s past, and how angry I still am about it? She doesn’t need to know all the lurid details. I don’t begrudge her wanting to know Valerie. I don’t, really. It’s normal she’d want to get to know her mother better. I just feel like if I have to keep my mouth shut about it all I’m going to explode.”
They sat in stilted silence for a bit, listening to the wintry wind howl around the car. Finally, Mrs. Granger unbuckled her seatbelt with a loud snap.
"Well, I suppose we'd better go in," she said, glancing back toward the front window of Cuppa. "Meg's been staring out the window at us for the past couple of minutes, and she's gonna start wondering what we're doing in here, gabbing like this. Besides," she added brightly, "I could use a pitstop, and the ladies’ restroom in there has the cutest little plastic doll on the counter. Do you know the dress is crocheted and hides a whole roll of toilet paper under it?" She chuckled as Amanda opened the driver door and carefully eased out from behind the wheel.
"What they don't think of these days, I swear."
Chapter 13
I’ll be at the Inn in five minutes. Call James to meet us.
Amanda leaned against the inn’s marble-topped kitchen island and frowned at her phone. Lisa’s text was the most cryptic she’d ever seen, and that was not usual for her serious friend. Always methodical, stubbornly logical, and matter of fact. Those phrases all described Lisa Wilkins. She could always be counted on to be the level-headed voice of reason among her friends.
Well, unless it involves falling in love with the wrong man, Amanda thought. That’s a whole different kettle of fish.
After quickly texting James to come over from the house, Amanda tried to keep her mind off Lisa’s enigmatic message by handwashing a couple of hand-painted teacups at the Inn’s big farmhouse sink. Peering out of the window overlooking the circular front drive, she tried not to let her imagination run wild. Lisa had information about all sorts of things happening around town, and the fact that she wanted both of them together wasn’t a good sign.
As soon as Lisa’s Prius turned off the street and onto the driveway gravel Amanda was heading toward the front door at full nine-month-pregnant speed.
She pulled the door open just in time to see Lisa nearly skidding to a stop on the porch, her hand already poised to grab the Inn’s doorknob.
“What is it?” Amanda asked sharply. No point in small talk.
Lisa’s eyes looked troubled. “Is James in? I’ve got some news.”
As Amanda ushered her inside, she could see her tall husband jogging along the path toward them. He bounded up the stairs onto the wide porch, his worried gaze locked on Amanda.
“What’s going on? Is it the baby?”
Laughing a bit, Amanda noticed the car keys still clutched in James’ hand, and the haggard expression on his face.
“No, no. Nothing like that. Lisa said she had some news and wanted to share it with us.”
Stepping into the foyer, James blew out a big sigh of relief. “Whew! Lady, you had me worried. I think I reached my target heart rate even before I ran over here.” He looked at Lisa. “So, what’s up?”
She pulled a cellphone out of her purse and tapped the front screen, then handed it to James. “The newspaper got an anonymous letter today, and it’s all about you.”
Scanning the photo on Lisa’s phone, James’ face darkened in sudden anger. “Oh, great.” He looked up. “This is all of it?”
Lisa nodded in confirmation. “And then I called the Ravenwood police. I took a photo of it, and when George showed up I gave him the original. Sounds like he’s going to contact the sheriff.”
Amanda craned her neck, trying to see what James was looking at, but he tilted the screen a bit so the picture wasn’t visible. “What is it?” she asked, and when James hesitated with an answer, she had a sudden impression that her husband was trying to shield her from bad news. Bristling a bit, she pulled herself up to her full height and grabbed his arm. “Hey, I have a right to know what’s going on, James. This involves you, which involves us, which involves the whole family. What does the letter say?”
He pressed his lips together, then said, “I think it’s better if you don’t read this, honey.”
Taking a deep breath, Amanda stuck to her guns. “Look, I’m your wife, not some helpless child. For better or worse, James. That’s what the wedding vows said. Let me see.”
James sighed in defeat, and slowly turned the phone’s screen toward his wife. Amanda leaned forward to see. It was a photo of a full-sized piece of paper with cut out letters forming the words. They were large and clear, easy to read.
DETECTIVE JAMES LANDON
HE DESERVES EVERYTHING HE GETS
I’LL GO TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH
NOTHING A LITTLE POISON CAN’T CURE
Amanda gasped in horror. She could feel James’ eyes on her face, his concern evident.
“Poison!” she nearly whispered.
Her husband was silent in response. He handed Lisa back her phone and slid a protective arm around Amanda’s back.
“Let’s go sit down,” he urged, guiding her toward the parlor sofa. As soon as Amanda had eased back onto the pillows, Lisa sat in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. She looked almost guilty.
“I’m so sorry, guys,” she said. “I know you’ve both been through a lot, but I thought you’d probably want to know right away about something like this.”
James nodded in agreement. “You did the right thing, and I appreciate you letting us know about the letter. What did George say when he saw it?”
Lisa gave a small shrug. “It’s evidence. He said he’d have a lab look at it to see if they could determine who sent it, but right now there’s not much to go on. No return address, no signature. Nothing.”
Amanda looked hopeful. “Maybe they’ll get a fingerprint off it.”
James leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “I doubt it. Most bad guys these days are pretty careful about making a mistake like that. Anyone who spent that much time cutting out individual letters is probably going to be meticulous about fingerprints, too.” He suddenly seemed to realize that his words, spoken like a true law enforcement officer, weren’t helping his wife’s stress level at all.
“We might get lucky, though. We know Greentree is already dead, so this has nothing to do with him. The sheriff confirmed that Greentree had traveled back to Idaho from Ravenwood Cove, so I’d bet big money he was the shooter. It’s probably just some copycat nut who saw it in the paper. It happens more than most people realize,” he commented.
Lisa shook her head. “Well, it may be a copycat trying to get some thrill off of the publicity and fear, I guess, but it has nothing to do with anything that’s been printed in The Tide. We’re really careful about what we report.” She locked eyes with James. “Copycats can get their ideas from TV coverage or just a neighbor gossiping over a back fence, you know.”
“Hey, no one’s blaming your paper,” James said, putting up his open hands as if defending himself. Amanda was staring down at the Persian carpet on the parlor floor as if she wasn’t listening to the conversation going on around her.
“I don’t get it.”
Lisa looked puzzled. “You don’t get what?”
“Why did the letter talk about poison?” Even as she said the word, Amanda felt a shiver of fear run through her. Someone was still threatening her husband, and the last time someone had done that they’d used a gun.
They were still out there. Watching and waiting.
Or maybe it was someone who wanted others to think they were the attacker.
How sick could they get?
“I wouldn’t worry about it, honey,” James said. He strode across the room and sat down next to Amanda, picking up her cold hand in his. “It’s probably just some random nutcase who gets their kicks doing stunts like this. I’ll go talk to George and see what he thinks. It’s probably nothing.”
As he leaned in for a quick kiss, Amanda’s eyes fluttered shut. Her husband was her best friend, and the thought that he might not be safe made her blood run cold.
***
George Ortiz leaned against the warm hood of his police cruiser and sighed in defeat.
“Gee, how did I know you were going to show up right after I got that letter, James?” he asked, rolling his eyes toward his tall friend. “You’re as predictable as the tide. I should’ve had money on it.”
James hunkered down into his jacket against the chill of the winter wind and made a sound of disgust. It hadn’t taken long for him to find the police chief walking out of Bad Boy Motors, and from the resigned look on George’s face, he obviously knew what James was going to say. “Hey, you’d do the exact same thing, George. You’ve got a family, too, and you know it’s not just our necks that are at risk sometimes.” He leaned against the side of the car. “I heard you sent the letter in to the lab. Any news on that?” Then he quickly shook his head. “Actually, what do you think about it? I’d rather hear your opinion first.”
George smiled. “I was just about to call you, buddy. Would you like some good news?”
“You know I would. Spill it, George.”
The police chief’s grin was nearly ear-to-ear. “I had our in-house lab team set aside everything else and go over that letter with a fine-toothed comb. They found a fingerprint on the inside of the envelope, back of the flap. Nice and clear. Guess who it belonged to?”
James had a sudden urge to grab his friend and shake him to instantly extract the name. “Who?”
“Hattie Pendleton.”
James’ eyes widened in surprise. He knew Hattie well. She was in her mid-60s and had been a fixture in both Likely and Ravenwood Cove for decades. Her delusions and confusion seemed to increase with every passing year, but he’d never known her to threaten violence. The town tolerated her outbursts and odd behavior because she’d never hurt anyone or really destroyed any property.
“Hattie Pendleton?” James blew out a long, slow breath. “I thought she was still in the psychiatric ward, after that time she tried to steal one of Truman’s three-wheeled bikes from his store and said the god Poseidon told her to take it.”
George gave a noncommittal shrug. “She was in for a while, then when she got out she was caught swiping some Christmas garlands from Petrie’s Hardware and was put back in. Apparently, she got released four days ago.”
“So, the letter…” James’ voice trailed off as he waited for the police chief to finish his sentence.
“—was from a demented woman who needs mental health treatment and maybe better medication.” He could see the sudden relief in his friend’s eyes and clapped James on the back in congratulations. “There’s nothing to worry about, James. I’m actually on my way to go find Hattie and talk with her. Since she’s escalated to sending threatening letters, my bet is pretty soon she’ll be getting treatment in a facility. They’ll be better equipped to handle whatever’s going on in that head of hers.”
“So, Amanda’s not in danger.” The words came out of James in a relieved rush. It was both question and statement.
George smiled. “No, and neither are you. Go home and get some rest, my friend. Everything’s okay. Once that baby comes, you’re not going to get much sleep anyway, so you might as well enjoy the quiet while it lasts.” He grinned. “And I can’t wait to see how you handle diaper patrol!”
“Thanks, George.” The words were heartfelt, and before the police chief could even reply James was already loping toward his car, on his way home. His mind was full of happy thoughts of his wife, and of getting some much-needed rest before their new baby was born.
Chapter 14
“You know, this bike trailer is state-of-the-art. Lots of new parents come get one so their kids can ride in style.” Truman leaned over and scratched Benny’s head as the little brown dog panted and stuck his long tongue out in appreciation. “I even got one for Benny. Now he doesn’t have to jog behind me when I ride around town anymore. His legs are just too short to keep doing that, and he really likes the fleece blanket I put in the bottom.”
Amanda flipped over the price tag on the bike trailer and gave a low whistle of surprise. “For this sort of expense he’d better love it, Truman.”
Truman was her friend but also a consummate salesman. He ran a reverent hand over the nylon covering, as if it were made of spun gold. “It’s top of the line. This baby will last for years. Consider it an investment.”
She looked unconvinced. “For that type of investment it had better walk my dog and fold my laundry,” she said, and Truman gave a shout of laughter.
“All right, all right,” he said, waving his hands in mock surrender. “Not even with layaway?”
“Sorry. Not today. I’m just wrapping up my Christmas shopping and I’m looking for a book on World War II for my father-in-law,” Amanda said. “He’s been watching Band of Brothers lately, and I thought he’d appreciate a book with more information on the war.”
“Europe or Pacific?”
“I think he’d prefer Pacific,” she said, then waddled behind Truman as he walked from the display of bikes over to the other side of his store.
She always enjoyed her time with Truman. When he’d first moved to town people were a bit put off by his wild hair, which changed colors at a moment’s notice, or his array of medieval art tattoos and unusual vintage clothing. Still, it hadn’t taken long before folks realized that this unusual-looking young man loved people, helped out anybody he could, and was very smart. He did his best to be part of Ravenwood Cove in any way possible, and when he opened his bike and kite store, and then a bookstore with an espresso machine, the little town had flocked to his doorstep.
Coffee and books were an appreciated combination, apparently.
Truman knelt down and peered at the bottom shelf of the packed bookcase. “Um, it looks like we’ve got four good ones about the European theater.” He pulled them out and stood up, then glanced at Amanda as he set the books on a nearby table. Backing away a bit so she could squeeze by him, he gave Amanda a wry smile. “I kinda figured you didn’t want to stoop down and get them yourself.”
“You know it,” she said, flipping through a large hardback with black-and-white photographs. “These days anything I pretend below my knees doesn’t exist. If I drop anything I have James retrieve it for me.” She grinned. “You’d be amazed how many goodies our dog gets off the floor when I’m cooking in the kitchen. It’s like having a built-in Roomba.”
He chuckled. “Sounds like a good plan to me. So, how are you doing these days? I haven’t seen you much lately,” Truman asked, leaning against the hefty bookcase. “You doing okay?”
Amanda nodded and flipped to the next page. “Oh, things are going fine.” She sighed. “Well, I have to admit I’m ready to have this whole pregnancy over with and finally hold my baby. I just want to know everything is going to turn out for the best,” she said, trying not to sound wistful. She glanced up at Truman. “And I have to admit I’m getting kind of tired of the way some people treat me.”
“Like what?” Truman asked, his face reflecting concern. Amanda knew he had a protective streak a mile wide, and more than once she’d seen him champion some underdog who needed a helping hand.
“Well, if I have one more person put their hand on my belly without asking me first I think I’m going to scream,” Amanda admitted, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “And it seems like the only thing people want to talk about is me being pregnant. Sometimes I think they forget that I’m a person, too, like I’ve suddenly dropped fifty IQ points.” She sighed. “And I’m missing Jennifer. And I wish it was snowing. And my ankles swell sometimes and get really fat when I walk too much.” List of gripes completed, she flipped the large book shut with a resounding smack. “This one looks good, Truman. I’ll take it.”
Following him back to the counter, she dug the wallet out of her purse. “Hey, I’m sorry if I sound a little grouchy,” she said, suddenly embarrassed to have complained so much. “I’m going to blame it on the hormones. I am grateful for my blessings. I really am,” she ventured, but Truman waved off her apology with a dismissive hand.
“Don’t even worry about it,” he said with a warm smile. “You aren’t grouchy. You’ve just got a lot of things going on, and you’re always welcome to come bend my ear whenever you want.” He ran her credit card through the reader. “Just tell me you’re going to start up the book club again after you’ve had that baby. Mrs. Bitterman did her best at the last meeting to keep things lively, but I don’t think I can handle reading Kurt Vonnegut for the third time.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Truman handed the credit card back to her, and Amanda paused as she put it back in her purse. “Truman,” she began slowly, trying to think how to frame her thoughts so they wouldn’t be too personal, “I haven’t seen you much lately, either. Are you and Meg still dating?”
Truman’s smile stayed in place, but Amanda could see the openness he’d previously had with her instantly vanish. “Oh, yes, we’re still going out,” he said, his eyes never wavering from Amanda’s face. “With her mother here in town and Meg trying to get her moved into the new house and all, we just haven’t seen much of each other for the past couple of weeks.”
“You’ve met her mom?” Amanda asked, and Truman’s smile disappeared.
“Yep, and she’s met me,” he said. “And trust me, I don’t think we’re going to be sending each other Christmas cards any time in the future.” He closed the cash register drawer, then leaned his forearms on the counter. “Seems she doesn’t approve much of me.”
“Oh,” Amanda said, clucking her tongue in sympathy. She wasn’t sure what she should say. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”
Truman shook his head. “Don’t be. Turns out I don’t like her either. I especially don’t like the fact she’s trying to whitewash how she abandoned Meg when she was just a little kid. I know Mrs. Granger did her best raising her granddaughter, but everyone should have at least one parent who isn’t a loser deadbeat.”
They stood in silence, digesting the words that had been spoken.
The bell over the shop door rang and Sage strode in, a canvas bag of tools in one hand and his hair in wild disarray from the coastal wind.
“Hey, Amanda!” he said with a wide grin. “How’s it going?”
“Fine, fine,” she said, accepting the bagged book Truman handed her. “How are you? I hear you’ve got a new toy.”
Sage gave a loud sigh and rolled his eyes.
“Oh, great. So, what did you hear?”
“Nothing much. I just hear you’ve been flying a drone around town.”
The teen made a face of absolute disgust. “It wasn’t any big deal. It really wasn’t! That stuff Mr. Quincy said was totally not true. Trust me, it’s not like I’d want to ever see that old guy in his underwear anyway!”
Setting his tools on the wooden floor, Sage walked over to Amanda and put the palm of his hand against her huge stomach. “What’s baby up to today?”
Amanda glanced at Truman, and he nodded, as if giving her permission. “Five bucks if you slap him, and I’ll pay double if I actually hear you swear for once. Has to be something four-lettered, though.”
Before Amanda could reply, Truman was already around the counter and had playfully whacked his young employee on the side of his head, ruffling his disheveled hair even further.
“What? What was that for?” Sage protested as Truman dragged him away, apparently giving him a quiet and vehement earful about how not to treat a pregnant lady.
One more stop and my shopping will be done, Amanda thought to herself as she shuffled up the sidewalk. The thought of a relaxing reward when she was done was the only thing keeping her going.
Maybe I could have a warm bath at home, and then I could prop up my feet and watch a good movie on Netflix. The image made her smile as she pushed the handle to the glass door of the art gallery.
“Well, well, well…” came a sardonic voice. “Look what just waddled in.”
Amanda’s smile faded.
“Very funny, Hortense,” she bit off as she shut the door behind her. She wasn’t always on the best of terms with her cantankerous cousin, but she’d been doing her best to build some sort of relationship with her lately, even if the bitter woman liked getting an occasional dig in.
Some days Amanda really regretted the decision to be nice to her. Hortense was not an easy person to love, even if she was kin.
Standing behind one of the scrupulously clean glass cases, Hortense Sandford, former mayor of Ravenwood Cove and Amanda’s first enemy in the little town, clasped her thin hands together and watched her cousin walk toward her. The overhead lighting seemed to spotlight her elegantly coiffed gray hair and the expensive cut of her ice-blue wool suit. Lifting her perfect eyebrows in feigned shock, she said, “You mean to tell me you haven’t had that baby yet? Isn’t it only elephants who are pregnant for two years?”
“Still not funny, Hortense,” Amanda said, puffing a bit with exertion. The bigger she got, the faster she seemed to run out of steam. “Don’t make me go into labor right here.” Seeing her cousin’s sudden look of fear, she couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. Waving at a fabulous Persian carpet laid out next to a wall of expensive paintings, Amanda gave an evil grin. “I’ll stand right on top of that rug you’ve got and see if I can get my water to break all over it. How’d you like them apples?”
Blowing out a sudden breath of defeat, Hortense walked around the end of the counter. “Don’t be vulgar. All right. Fine, I’ll be nice, but you leave my carpet alone.”
“Deal,” Amanda said calmly, as if nothing had happened. “I’m hoping you can help me, actually.”
Hortense rolled her eyes. “What are you up to now? You’re not raising money for spring Little League or a Save the Nutria campaign or some such, are you?”
Amanda glanced around, scanning the walls of the upscale gallery. “Not this time. The nutrias are going to have to save themselves, I guess. I’m trying to find a good Christmas gift for Flora.”
One arched eyebrow went up, and Hortense looked at her cousin as if she’d suddenly gone insane.
“I don’t mean to be crass, but aren’t Flora Landon’s tastes a tad… rustic… compared to the sort of things I have here?” She made a sweeping gesture toward the tall display cases full of antique silver and exquisite china. “Are you sure these items will be suitable for her?”
“Don’t make me smack you, Hortense,” Amanda said, trying not to laugh. Her cousin’s reaction had been expected. “Look, I’m full of crazy hormones and a tap-dancing baby that doesn’t let me sleep at night. I’m stressed out and I pee all the time. At this point, I can get away with all sorts of things, especially if the jury is full of women.”
Her words had the desired effect, because she could see her normally stern cousin biting back a secret smile. It was rare to see Hortense Sandler show a sense of humor, and anytime Amanda could crack the lady’s stern façade she felt like she’d somehow won an unspoken challenge.
Hortense folded her arms across her thin chest, her heavy rings glittering in the overhead lights. “Fine. What are you looking for?”
“Well, Flora’s got a nice china cabinet in her dining room. I know she likes hummingbirds, so I was thinking a small figurine of one would be nice. Do you have anything like that?”
Pressing her thin lips together in concentration, Hortense stalked over to a tall mahogany cabinet set against the far wall. Inside, on the second shelf, was a brilliant array of delicate knickknacks. Amanda’s eye was immediately drawn to a piece of porcelain near the corner. It was an exquisitely rendered figurine of a male hummingbird landing on a honeysuckle stem, his tiny wings fanned around his body as he maneuvered to get a taste of the sweet nectar inside a nearby blossom. If Amanda had only seen a photo of it, she might have thought it was real.
“Oh, that would be perfect,” Amanda breathed, her eyes locked on the figurine.
Hortense pulled a ring of keys from her pocket and carefully unlocked the glass door. “You know, you’re lucky this is still here. That new hairdresser collects hummingbirds and was really interested in it.”
“Bev has a new employee at the salon?” Amanda asked, surprised. Bev Watson had been adamant about every detail of the running of the beauty salon when she’d taken over it, and the thought of her allowing a new stylist to work with her was definitely unexpected. Whether it was the color of the cut flowers on the front desk’s counter or the painted Christmas scene on the front window, Bev was very opinionated about every aspect of her business.
“Yes. I think she said her name was Brittany.” She cleared her throat. “Brittany Stitch. From what I heard, she was trying to get Bev to change the salon’s name to Curl Up and Dye.” She shuddered. “Can you imagine? So… pedestrian.”
“Maybe I’ll make an appointment with her,” Amanda mused, but Hortense instantly shook her head, her face a mask of glacial disapproval.
“Oh, I think that’s a very bad idea, indeed,” she said, looking down her nose at her cousin. “I mean, after everything that has happened. If memory serves, she’s…” Hortense’s voice trailed off, which Amanda had never seen happen before.
“She’s what?”
Hortense gave a small cough, and swept her eyes around the gallery, making sure it was empty. “Well, she has a bit of a past, from what I hear.”
“A past? What does that mean?”
Hortense’s gaze locked on Amanda and she paused before answering Amanda’s question. “With Roger Greentree. They dated a few years before he was arrested. She’s just moved here from Likely.”
Amanda’s eyes widened in sudden alarm. “You mean Greentree’s ex-girlfriend is working here in town?” She bit her bottom lip. James hadn’t mentioned anything about it. “What did you think about her when you met her?”
Hortense pulled the hummingbird figurine from the cabinet, handling it with infinite care as she locked the glass door.
“Let’s just say she has no problem letting people know what she wants, and what she doesn’t.” She walked to the front counter, Amanda waddling a bit behind her. “Let’s just say we didn’t agree about the price I had on this.” Bending over, Hortense pulled out a small box from under the counter, then a handful of crisp tissue paper. “If I were Bev, I’d be concerned about how an employee of that caliber would reflect on the entire reputation of my business. Hopefully, her attitude was only with me and an isolated incident.”
“Hopefully so,” Amanda agreed, handing over her credit card, but her cousin wasn’t quite through with providing her unvarnished opinion.
“And another thing,” Hortense added as she rang the sale into the cash register and slid the box toward Amanda, “I’d be very suspicious of anyone with a diamond stud in their nose. Can you imagine? Jewelry in your nose?” She boxed the little figurine expertly with bubble wrap and a gift box, then handed it to Amanda. “This isn’t Portland, you know. What does she do if she comes down with a bad head cold? The Kleenex, the…” She gave a melodramatic shudder. “The side effects. I don’t even want to imagine the results of that.”
As Amanda carefully put the boxed gift in her car, she couldn’t help but grimace at her cousin’s comments about nose jewelry. Now all she could think about was nose studs, head colds, and Kleenex.
Winter storms along the Oregon coast could be wild, and the nighttime gusts of roaring December wind outside their new home were sometimes fierce enough to wake Amanda, even as tired as she was.
When James’ alarm went off she spent a luxuriant half hour drifting in and out of sleep, occasionally hearing her husband running the shower in the other room or opening the closet door.
By the time he’d dressed and was slipping his wallet in his back pocket, Amanda was awake. She peeked out from under a stray lock of hair, her face still half-buried in a pillow on the warm bed.
“How can you be so cheerful, after a rough night like that?” She glanced at the clock radio. Its display was blinking a nonsensical number at her. “Looks like the power went out. We’re going to have to reset a couple of the clocks.” She resisted the sudden urge to hurl one of the other pillows at her whistling husband, who was looking in the closet door mirror and running a comb through his dark hair. “I heard you get out of bed around midnight.”
“Blame Benson,” he said, making a face. “He got me up twice, the big baby.”
“He got you up twice?”
“Yep,” he said, tucking the comb back in a dresser drawer. “I hate to say this, but I think we’re going to have to get a crate for him. He was woofing and waking me up anytime the winds blew the leaves around outside.”
The thought of crating her cuddly yellow lab didn’t set too well with Amanda, but she could see James’ point of view. He often worked odd hours, following whatever case came up at whatever time he was needed. Now that he was wrapping up his workload before he’d be starting paternity leave, he was working as much as possible. Rest and sleep were hard to come by.
“Maybe if he sleeps in the bed with us he won’t scared,” she ventured, but James gave a short bark of laughter and glanced sideways at his wife. It wasn’t the first time Amanda had offered to share her bed with Benson.
“Don’t bet the ranch on it.” His phone vibrated with an incoming message, and he walked over to the bedside console to pick it up.
"You're not going to believe this, " James said, looking up from his phone with a stunned smile. “I just got a text from Gable. He says he's thinking about flying home in time for the holiday open house at the Inn." He leaned his head back against the doorframe, his face thoughtful. "It must be… oh, it's been years since he was home for Christmas."
Amanda sat up in bed and ran a hand through her hair. "You mean, Gable hasn't been home for the holidays since the family quarrel?"
"It wasn't a quarrel. It was… a misunderstanding," James said. Years of anger over inheritance of a painting had finally been proved wrong, when his sister had discovered the truth about Gable's grandfather giving it to him. The fallout in the family had been ugly and hurtful, and everyone was glad they’d moved past that.
The thought of Gable coming home and the whole family gathering at the ranch for Christmas sent a thrill of excitement through Amanda. Her due date made the likelihood of the baby arriving before Christmas a real possibility. The mental image of the entire Landon clan gathered around a lit Christmas tree was the sort of traditional holiday she’d always secretly wanted.
James shrugged into his thick jacket, pulled on a knit cap, and opened the bedroom door. “Mom’s going to flip when she hears he’s coming,” he said, his voice giving away his excitement.
By the time he’d poured himself a cup of coffee Amanda was walking downstairs, wrapped in her fluffy robe and wearing a pair of sheepskin slippers. James eyed her over the brim of his half-empty coffee mug. “What’s on your gameplan for today?” he asked.
“Well, Elizabeth told me she’s working through some new ideas for the open house, and she’s getting an early start on the housekeeping at the Inn,” she said, tying the robe’s belt more snugly over the top of her stomach. “I told her I’d take a break from my bookkeeping and do some taste testing for her.”
James grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Sounds like a great day to me,” he said, and Amanda clucked her tongue in pretend annoyance.
“You’re not making a crack about what I’ve been eating lately, are you, mister?” she asked, and James laughed.
“No way. I know better,” he said, then gave a sly smile. “But if that baby comes out demanding chocolate and raspberry scones, don’t you go blaming me!”
“Ha ha, funny boy,” she said dryly, and James puckered his lips and made a loud kissing sound as he walked toward the dishwasher. He set the coffee mug in the top rack and closed the washer’s door.
Amanda sidled up to him and he gave her a peck on the lips. “I’m just teasing. You know I love you,” he said, then leaned over and kissed the top of her belly. “Both of you.”
He buttoned his coat as he walked to the door.
“I'll be back before you know it,” James said. “According to Dad, it's only a small batch of shingles off the roof, and they've already got everything I need to replace them. It probably won't even take me an hour. I'll give you a call when I'm on my way home, okay?"
Amanda nodded, then followed him out to the front porch and watched him walk down the slick walkway. Arms folded across the top of her big belly, she could feel her heart sink as he pulled out his keys. As he put the key in the car door, he turned and looked back at her, then gave a deep sigh "Lady, don't look so sad," he said, jogging back toward her for one more kiss. "Nothing's going to happen to me, and it's all going to be fine." He kissed her hair, holding her close. "I promise."
Feeling a little teary, Amanda gulped and nodded, unable to raise her eyes to his because she was worried he'd see the tears leaking from the corners.
Darn hormones.
"Of course it will," she said, proud her voice was steady. With a final squeeze, James turned around and walked toward his car, the faint smell of his aftershave riding on the wind back to her.
Thinking back, she wouldn't remember exactly what she'd heard or seen next. She only knew it changed her life forever.
STime stood still, frozen as if carved in ice and flame.
She blinked, then gasped, as a horrible, earth-shattering explosion blasted from the car in a deadly fireball of toxic fumes and screaming fire. Staggering backward from the concussion of heat and chaos, Amanda could just see her husband flipping backward onto the lawn, his face contorted in shock and agony, the cowboy boots on his feet flying higher than his head as the whole world came apart with a terrible, body-shaking boom.
Blackness.
Nothingness.
Chapter 17
"James! James! Oh, dear Lord..." Amanda could hear her own fractured voice from far away, as if in a dream.
Something had exploded. Something awful.
She fought to remember.
Darkness swam around her face, and her skin burned in a way that proved something horrible had happened.
Something… horrible.
"Amanda! Lie still! I've got you," Elizabeth commanded, nearly yelling. “I’m right here.” Amanda could hear the quaver of emotion in her voice. “It’s gonna be okay!”
Amanda could feel a hand gripping hers, trembling in her grasp. Her eyes flew open. Elizabeth was crouched over her, gripping her shoulder with one hand as she frantically punched the numbers on her cell phone for emergency services. Eerie firelight flickered wildly and lit the scene, and Amanda craned her head around, desperately trying to see her husband. She could feel cold panic rising inside her like a wave.
"Where… where's James?" Her voice was rising into a desperate wail, and Elizabeth leaned over to hold her still, trying to keep her from moving.
"The Landon house next to Ravenwood Cove Inn. Yes, come right away! There's been an explosion and car fire! We've got two people hurt and... well, send everybody!"
"James..." it was almost a whimper now, but Elizabeth leaned closer, the phone still to her ear.
"He's still breathing, and the ambulance is on its way,” she told Amanda. “You hold on, 'Manda. We're going to get help here and you're going to be fine.”
Maybe I'll be fine, Amanda thought, despair seeping into every bit of her being, but what about James?
Chapter 18
"You were very lucky, Mrs. Landon," Dr. Martinez said, as he rolled his chair away from the examination table. "It looks like the blast may have pushed you backward but it didn't do any damage, except for the splinter that we've removed from your arm. Baby seems to be fine and healthy, but with you falling like that we're going to have you stay overnight, just to make sure no complications develop."
The monitor strap across Amanda’s rounded abdomen was a bit tight, but the reassuring beeping of the machine attached to it was steady and very welcome. Amanda gulped. "You didn’t answer my question. Can I go see James now?" she asked, her voice quavering with emotion. "You said he was being checked on, but is he okay, doctor? Where is he?"
“He’s getting the very best of care, Mrs. Landon, I promise. We have several doctors with him, and we’ll have more information soon. Right now I want to focus on you and your baby.”
Amanda was just opening her mouth again to pepper the doctor with questions when Lisa and Meg burst into the room and headed straight for her bed.
"I heard it on the scanner!" Meg said, her face pale and eyes wide in shock.
Lisa clutched onto Amanda’s outstretched hand and gripped it tight, leaning over her. "Are you okay?"
"I… yes… I haven't seen James yet,” Amanda said, ashamed at how weak her words sounded. "Have you heard anything? Elizabeth went to go find out where he is but she hasn’t come back yet.”
The doctor, obviously irritated, stood up and looked at the two visitors. "Mrs. Landon and her baby need rest now,” he said firmly. “After what happened to her, we want to be sure she’s not going to go into labor early.” He waved a dismissive finger at Lisa and Meg. “Now, I'd like you two go back to the waiting room and I'll have the nurse come find you when there’s any news." He turned to Amanda. "Your husband is still in the emergency room, but he's not in any immediate danger. He's still unconscious and he's had some burns to his face and hands. That’s all I know." He glanced at Lisa, then back at Amanda. “We're running some tests, just to be sure there aren’t any other issues, and we’ll know more soon. He's in good hands, I promise. If he needs it, he’ll be getting transferred to the ICU soon, so he can be watched closely.”
The words fell like stones.
ICU.
Amanda suddenly realized she’d forgotten to breathe and sucked in some air, just as Lisa piped up.
"Can one of us stay with her? I could do it, and I promise I’ll stay out of the way and just be here if she needs me.”
Maybe it was the determined expression on her face, or maybe it was the doctor's agreement with the idea of Amanda needing someone to be with her, but he finally nodded.
"Okay, one at a time. That would be fine."
"Good," Lisa muttered, almost under her breath. Hearing the note of resolve in Lisa's words, Amanda suddenly realized her normally quiet friend would've moved heaven and earth to be sure she was able to stay by her side.
Meg popped her head around Lisa's shoulder. "I'll go see if I can find out anything about James," she said, ignoring the doctor, then zipped out the door in search of information.
As the doctor and nurse chatted quietly over Amanda's patient chart, Lisa sat down on the chair next to her and leaned over. "Sounds like that baby’s okay, so that’s good news, right?" she asked quietly, her gaze intense, as if fearing the answer to her question.
"Yes, but they've got me wired up to this darn machine and I can't..." Tears started to leak from Amanda's eyes, running in sad rivulets down into her ears. She gulped back a sob.
Lisa instantly dug into her purse, finally pulling forth a wad of clean tissues. "Sounds like that's the smart thing to do then, to keep an eye on everything and keep you here, isn't it?"
Amanda nodded, her lips pressed together in an attempt to quell her volatile emotions.
"Oh, Lisa. What are we going to do? Someone's trying to kill James! I don’t even know how he is."
"Don’t you worry about a thing, Amanda. I heard what happened, and there are cops all over this hospital right now. They’re all making sure you and James and your baby are all safe and sound. There's no way a bad guy is going to get in. Officer Rollins is standing right outside your room, checking every single person who comes and goes. And I saw George running through the lobby like his tail was on fire. I'd bet good money he's heading straight for James' room to find out how he is." She bent over further and awkwardly hugged Amanda's head. "It's going to be okay. We're all here for you. No one's getting through your friends."
Amanda closed her eyes, her face buried into buried in Lisa’s shoulder. Her words had been true and meant to comfort, but they weren’t nearly enough to make her stop worrying.
The wide hospital hallways smelled of warm linen and disinfectant, but Amanda didn’t notice. Lisa was walking behind her, carefully pushing the metal wheelchair down the ward as if Amanda were made of glass. Rolling past closed doorways outside patients’ rooms, Amanda counted down the room numbers. Her eyes were locked on the door in front of her, at the bend in the hallway. A sheriff’s deputy she’d seen before was standing outside, watching the hallway, and when he saw her approaching he gave her a small smile.
She could feel her heart pounding with adrenaline and anticipation. Even when Elizabeth and Meg had brought back the welcome news that James had been sent to a regular room instead of ICU, it had been hours before the doctors had okayed her being well enough for a visit.
It had seemed like days.
As soon as Lisa got close, the deputy moved aside to push the wide door open. She maneuvered the wheelchair through the wide doorway. There was a single hospital bed in front of them, its headboard against the wall to the right and surrounded by medical machines and an IV stand. A lone figure lay under the crisp white sheets, unmoving and silent.
Sitting in an upholstered chair in the corner was George Ortiz, his eyes closed in fatigue. A dark smudge of unshaved stubble was scattered across his chin. As soon as Lisa pushed the wheelchair toward the bed, George’s eyes snapped open and he quickly glanced over at Amanda.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" he hissed, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake James. Darting an accusatory glance at Lisa, his eyes narrowed in anger. "And you should know better than to have her out running around like this. What are you thinking?"
"Hey, Chief, I promise I have the doctor’s permission to let her come up here," Lisa said quickly. "She's had a bit of rest and the doc said she’s doing well enough she's able to have fifteen minutes or so to see James."
Ignoring both of them, Amanda's eyes were locked on the still form lying in the hospital bed. Monitors on a nearby stand announced every heartbeat and intake of breath, and an IV stand held two bags of clear fluid, with a tube leading to the crook in his left arm. One side of his face was nearly covered by a large gauze bandage.
"How is he?" Amanda asked.
Lisa wheeled her closer to the bed, and Amanda reached out a tentative hand, gently laying it on his bare arm.
"Doc said he's actually doing okay, considering all he's been through. Some mild burns, three cracked ribs, and he had a couple of pieces of shrapnel in his chest, but they say they got them all out. Guess he’s got a bit of a concussion, too, and the doctor told me it will probably be a couple of days before that gets better. He’s a bit groggy from all the pain meds so he keeps falling asleep.” George looked at James and sighed. “They think he turned his head a bit as the bomb went off, and that saved him from the worst of the blast."
"Bomb?" The word, so small, so horrible, filled the room.
There was no denying it now. Someone wanted her husband dead and was willing to do anything they could to make that happen.
"Well, it's a good thing he had a non-synthetic coat on, or it could've been much worse. The fireball itself missed him, but the heat didn’t, and if he hadn't been wearing wool and cotton it could've actually melted onto his skin."
“Hey, lady. What are you doing out of bed?”
The voice was gravelly and deep, and Amanda couldn’t help but give a small gasp of relief when she heard it.
“James! Oh, James…” Tears springing to her eyes, Amanda bit her bottom lip to keep from losing all control of her emotions. He was her best friend and the biggest goofball she knew. The thought of how close she’d come to losing him was almost more than she could bear.
Amanda slid her fingers into his, afraid to touch him anywhere else in case it would hurt him.
“Honey, I was so worried about you!” she said, proud her voice was steady.
George gave a snort of laughter from the armchair. “That makes two of you. Every time he wakes up he asks about you and the baby. This guy’s got a one-track mind.”
“Shut up, George,” James said in a mild voice. “You’d be doing the exact same thing.”
Amanda moved up towards James’ head and leaned close to his ear, quietly talking to him as he awkwardly patted her with one hand. He whispered to her, too, sweet words between a married couple who had escaped death. George and Lisa could see the moment between the couple was important and private, so they spent a couple of minutes just looking around the room and up and at the ceiling, anywhere but at the Landons as they swapped gentle kisses and their feelings.
“George, I blame you for this.”
At Amanda’s words, so calmly spoken, George’s eyes widened in alarm.
“Me? Amanda, I’ve been doing everything I can possibly do to help you guys! I’ve got all my officers working overtime to be sure we’re going to catch this guy!”
“It’s not enough, George.” After hours of being weepy and unsure, Amanda was suddenly, blazingly angry. Some madman had tried to kill her husband and her baby, along with herself. She was tired of feeling like she had a target on her back.
“I want to know what’s really going on here, with the case,” she said, her face hard. “I know you’ve been tiptoeing around me because I’m pregnant, but I think after all this I have a right to know what’s happening. There’s more, isn’t there? Why did the letter mention poison but someone used a bomb? What do you and the rest of the police know?”
James opened his mouth as if he were going to answer for the flustered police captain and just as quickly clapped it shut. It was pretty rare to see Amanda so angry, and he knew better than to get in her way.
“James?” George asked, apparently hoping for some support, but his friend slowly shook his head.
“You’re on your own, man. She’s got a point.”
Amanda’s eyes were still locked onto George, daring him to deny it.
He finally sighed in defeat. “Well, there’s been a development we haven’t discussed with you two yet. I was going to tell James as soon as he didn’t have so much pain medication in him, but I guess we’ll have to do this now.” He glanced at his friend, who was watching him with interest. “You okay with that, buddy?”
James’ glance flicked over to Amanda. “Only if my wife promises to remember that you’re on our side, and not get too upset about what you say.” His eyes narrowed. “And lady, if you can’t be calm, then I’m going to have Lisa wheel you back to your room and tell the doctor you need a nap. I mean it. How about it? Can you hold yourself together enough to hear George’s news?”
Amanda thought for a second, then gave a loud huff of defeat. “I promise.”
“Pinkie swear?” James asked, and Amanda stuck out her tongue in mock defiance. With a chuckle, James turned to George. “All right, Chief. What’s the scoop?”
“Well, apparently we were wrong about Hattie Pendleton. There’s no way she would’ve pulled something like this off. Also, she’s got an ironclad alibi, because she was picked up by social services right after we identified the fingerprint on the envelope as belonging to her.”
“Not her,” Amanda said, one eyebrow raised. “You think?”
“And another thing,” George continued,” We just found out that Greentree sent his lawyer a letter and used the phrase ‘to the ends of the earth’ when he talked about going after James. Whoever sent that note to Lisa and used the same phrase knew exactly what Greentree had said in a supposedly confidential attorney-client conversation.” He paused. “Since the letter was sent after he was found dead, whoever wrote it must’ve been told about that phrase before Greentree died. Either that, or his lawyer blabbed about it to someone.”
“So…” James’ eyes were closed, as if he was considering what George had just said. “So someone probably asked Hattie to seal that envelope, or paid her to write the letter. She’s so confused these days, I doubt she’d even know who.”
George settled back in his chair. “You’re right about that. We asked her and she doesn’t remember anything about the envelope at all, but we think someone else had her seal the envelope. They made sure to leave a big, fat clue for us with that false fingerprint, and it got us off the right track for a bit.”
Taking a deep breath, Amanda thought for a moment. “So, if not Hattie, then who? Greentree’s dead, right? Are we back to square one?”
“Actually, I don’t think so,” George said, steepling his fingers in front of him, his elbows set on the chair’s wide arms. "I've been talking to the lab and the criminal psychologist the sheriff is working with, and they’ve got a different take on things. I don’t think we’re talking about someone really trying to poison you, James,” he said. “Someone seemed to know just how and when to disable your home security system. Also, someone knew enough about the details of the investigation that they probably have had enough run-ins with the law to figure out our routines. It might even be even someone in law enforcement.”
He paused, his expression serious. “And another thing. After rereading the letter Lisa got, I’m beginning to wonder if the word poison in it wasn’t about a threat, but someone’s nickname.”
“A street name?” James asked. “You know anyone with a street name like Poison?” he asked, but the police chief shook his head.
“Not really, but I’ve got a huge database I can check, and I’ll bet your buddies at the sheriff’s department and the FBI would be happy to lend a hand, too.”
Amanda tried to slow her breathing, mentally reminding herself to keep as relaxed and calm as possible. “So, what do we do now?”
George opened his mouth to answer, but James cut him off. “You don’t have to do anything, lady.” He tried to smile. “You and I are going to avail ourselves of all the hospitality and fabulous cuisine this hospital can provide, and we’re going to let the rest of the world worry about finding out who’s doing all this. It sounds like the doctors are going to keep us both here for a while anyway. When we get out we’re going to go someplace no one knows us, and someplace perfectly safe.” He tried to smile, but Amanda could see the pain and fatigue in his eye. “And we’re going to have a happy, healthy baby and everything’s going to work out fine.”
Amanda leaned over and gave him one last, gentle kiss. “I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I am,” he said, doing his best to sound confident and cheerful. “And I think your fifteen minutes are definitely up by now. Time for you to get back to bed.” He caught Lisa’s eye in unspoken command and Lisa slowly pulled the wheelchair back from the bed, Amanda’s hand lingering on her husband’s arm. She turned her head to catch a glimpse of him as she was being wheeled away, but his eyes were already closed in sleep, a frown of concern or pain etched across his forehead.
Chapter 20
Gooey oatmeal.
Tepid applesauce.
A single slice of dry toast.
Amanda looked over her breakfast tray and gave a small sigh of despair. She hadn’t been a patient in a hospital since she’d had her tonsils removed at the age of seven, but apparently all the jokes about terrible hospital food were based on fact, not fiction.
What I wouldn’t give for a big plate of Elizabeth’s apple- and caramel-stuffed French toast, she thought, giving her oatmeal an unenthusiastic jab with her plastic spoon. With extra pecans sprinkled on top, and real whipped cream.
It didn’t help matters that she was still hooked up to a fetal monitor. A humorless nurse had come in several times during the night to take Amanda’s vitals. She’d struggled to fall asleep, but as soon as she did the door would open and she’d be jarred into consciousness, just as the blood pressure cuff was wrapped around her upper arm. After several rounds of interruptions, she couldn’t fall back to sleep. She’d watched the gray light outside the window slowly brighten, announcing a rainy day in Ravenwood Cove.
It was a comfort to know Officer Rollins had been posted outside her room, keeping an eye on anyone who was trying to get in to see her, even if it was only to bring in a very bland breakfast. With the door cracked open, she could just see his broad shoulders outside the doorframe, making sure she was safe.
She watched him for a moment, then set her spoon down.
“Pssst!” she hissed. It wasn’t easy to keep her voice low enough to not bother anyone else but still get the young police officer’s attention. “Hey, Wayne!”
He popped his head in the door. “Yes?” His expression was full of focused anticipation, as if he couldn’t wait to hear what she’d say. From the moment he’d been stationed outside, she could tell he was taking his duties very seriously, checking everyone who wanted to enter the room, and periodically touching base with Amanda to see if she needed anything. “What can I do for you?”
She settled back against the pillows. “Um, I was just wondering if you’ve heard anything more about James. I texted him about an hour ago and it looks like he hasn’t seen the message yet.”
“Not much,” he answered, taking a step inside the room, his cell phone in one hand. “Barney’s on duty outside his room now, and he said James slept as well as can be expected.” He gave an apologetic shrug. “I guess his ribs and face are still real painful, so they’ve been trying to keep him as doped up as possible.” Seeing Amanda’s expression fall with sorrow, he quickly put up his hands, almost as if trying to stop the words he’d already said. “But other than that he’s fine. No changes, so that’s good, and he’s got a cop outside his room every second. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
Amanda’s eyes drifted toward the phone Wayne was waving around, and she gave a coo of appreciation.
“What a cute baby!” she said, nodding toward the full-sized picture the young policeman had on the screen. The sweet little face peering out was as close a match to the classic Gerber baby as she’d ever seen. “Boy or girl? Does it belong to a relative or a friend?”
Officer Rollins jerked his phone back as if he’d been scalded and quickly tucked it into his shirt pocket. “Um, relative, and it’s a little boy.”
“Well, he’s adorable,” she said, and as she opened her mouth to continue Rollins cut her off.
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” he said, “but Meg texted me just a few minutes ago. She said she’d come by see you in just a bit.” He glanced toward the doorway, as if he halfway expected her to materialize. “She also said she’d checked with Elizabeth to be sure Oscar had been fed, and she’s got your big yellow lab up at her place, so she can take care of him.”
That was a load off Amanda’s mind. With all the chaos of the previous day, she couldn’t quite remember who had promised to feed and comfort Benson.
“Well, well, missy…” came a gravelly voice outside the door, and the accompanying squeak of well-used walker wheels instantly heralded Mrs. Granger’s arrival. She pushed her way into the room, ignoring Rollins. Meg trailed behind her, sporting a broad smile on her face and carrying a plastic bag.
As Mrs. Granger reached the bed, she leaned over and planted an honest-to-goodness kiss on Amanda’s cheek. Suspicious moisture was gathering in her bird-like eyes. “The things you do to get an old lady’s attention. My, my.”
If Amanda hadn’t known Mrs. Granger better, or if she doubted the old lady’s love for her, she would’ve perhaps been put off by her apparent lack of concern. The truth was, she could tell Mrs. Granger was about one breath away from dissolving into inconvenient emotion, which she often tamped down by using dry humor.
Meg planted a kiss on Amanda’s cheek, too, then stepped out of the way as Mrs. Granger turned and headed for the upholstered chair.
“Sorry, sorry,” the old lady said as she eased herself into the broad seat. “Seems like some days my get-up-and-go has got-up-and-went, so I need to set myself down a bit more. How are you doing, sweetie?”
“Good,” Amanda said, even though it was pretty much a lie. “Baby’s fine and doing well, and I got some sleep.” She tried to think of other happy things to say, but words failed her. Someone tried to kill my husband, twice. We’re both stuck in this hospital under guard, and once we get released I don’t know if anywhere will be safe for us. How am I going to protect this baby from a madman?
Meg, always so intuitive, must’ve seen the despair behind Amanda’s eyes. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small pink box, taped shut.
“Yeah, I thought you might need a pick me up about now,” Meg said, setting the box onto the table arched over Amanda’s hospital bed. Sliding a finger under the lid, she expertly released the tape and opened the box.
“Meg, you are an angel straight from heaven!” Amanda said, inhaling the luscious aroma of the two frosting-covered cinnamon rolls sitting in front of her. “You wouldn’t believe what they serve as food in this place.”
Meg raised one eyebrow as she looked over the abandoned breakfast tray on the table. “Okay, now that looks just plain sad,” she opined, and Amanda gave a little chuckle of agreement.
“You’re tellin’ me. That oatmeal could be used as wallpaper paste.”
She lifted out one of the big rolls and took a bite, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head in sheer ecstasy. Mrs. Granger watched her eat. “So, is there anything we can do for you, my dear?” she asked as Meg pulled over a stackable chair and sat next to her grandmother.
Amanda swallowed and finally shook her head. “I don’t think so, Gran. We both have to get cleared by the doctors before we can leave the hospital, and then the sheriff’s department is going to figure out a safe place for us to go. From what I hear, just about every officer they have is on the case, trying to find…” She didn’t know what word to say. The bomber? The person who tried to murder them?
Mrs. Granger shook her head. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, I must say, but they’re going to have a time of it, I think. Just sorting through the rumors will take them some time.”
Officer Rollins, still loitering in the doorway, frowned at the old lady’s statement. “What rumors?” Mrs. Granger was a well-known font of Ravenwood Cove information. Since she spent most of her days sitting in Petrie’s Hardware store, knitting and gossiping, she picked up delicious tidbits about who was doing what around town. Many people thought her age made her hard of hearing, but she was happy to have them think that, because they talked more freely around her, never realizing she was secretly filing away what they said. She wasn’t one to spread malicious gossip or break confidences at all, but if the news was helpful or good she was happy to share it with anyone who would listen.
The old lady glanced sideways at Rollins. “Well, not so much a rumor as an opinion. I was at my weekly wash and set appointment at the beauty parlor, and some of the ladies there were talking about what happened to the Landons. There was a lot of sympathy from folks, because they were thinking about how they’d feel if something like that happened to their family. Then, out of the blue, that new stylist…” she frowned, and put a hand up to her chin, tapping her bottom lip with a drumming forefinger. “Brittany… Oh, what is her last name? Something.” She paused, considering. “Stamp. Strong. Storage.” Her finger stopped moving. “Stitch, that’s her name. Brittany Stitch. She said she’d heard the whole thing was probably done by transients from Likely. Lots of those folks ‘round there have their fingers in all sorts of illegal pies, and they sure as shootin’ don’t want law enforcement messing with their livelihoods.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda could see the color drain from Wayne Rollins’ face. She knew Rollins grew up in Likely and still had family there, so she wasn’t surprised when he cleared his throat and spoke up in rebuttal.
“I wouldn’t give her too much credit for knowing what she’s talking about. Seems like she’s someone who wants to sound important, like they know what’s going on all the time.” His voice was calm, but his eyes were adamant. “Maybe it’d be better for everyone if she just kept her opinions to herself.”
Mrs. Granger nodded her head in agreement. “After being on this planet for so many years, I can kinda tell when someone has an ax to grind, and that young lady’s got a whole boatload.” She sniffed and put a hand up to her hair. “She was so loud and angry that poor little dog Pippa actually ran away and burrowed into her basket, she was so scared. Bev had to stop what she was doing to go cuddle her.” She gave a harrumph of disapproval. “With that cruddy attitude Brittany’s got, I’m not going to have her even comb me out next time I go in. I don’t know what her problem is, but I sure don’t want her taking it out on my hairdo.”
Wayne opened his mouth as if to add his thoughts to the conversation, then seemed to think better of the idea. He snapped his lip together and quickly walked out, shutting the heavy door with a soft click behind him.
Mrs. Granger turned toward Amanda and gave a wrinkle-framed smile. “So, have you had a lot of visitors stop in to visit? The whole town’s buzzing to come by and see you, but I think some people are kind of afraid that they’re going to be in the way.”
“Or maybe all the beefy cops surrounding you and James kind of put them off,” Meg offered helpfully.
Amanda smiled at that thought. “Maybe, but I have to admit it’s been kind of nice not having a parade of visitors all the time. My dad and Mrs. Penn stopped by about an hour ago,” she said.
“Oh, that’s nice,” Meg said. “Good to see you two getting along.”
Amanda knew Meg was aware how tough it had been for Amanda to forgive some of the things her father had done in the past. “Yes, it’s been really good to talk with him. He told me he got in through all the security because he’s family. We had a good chat, and they stayed for about twenty minutes.”
Mrs. Granger’s grinned smugly. “And I got in because that whippersnapper Wayne knew better than to try to stop me from seeing you,” she pronounced. “He knows I’ve got his number. I would’ve run over his foot with my walker.”
Meg was doing her best to ignore her tiny grandmother’s statement. The thought of the lightweight aluminum walker posing any sort of a threat to the strapping Officer Rollins was laughable.
“So, your dad and Mrs. Penn?” The tone of Meg’s voice had a rising hint of innuendo in it, and Amanda suddenly realized where her romantic-minded friend’s thoughts were going. “Are they… seeing each other?”
Opening her mouth to reply, Amanda was cut off in mid-breath by Mrs. Granger.
“Yes, what’s up with that?” the old lady asked, her usual curiosity about the people around her on full display. “I saw Wendel and her eating pumpkin pie over at Ivy’s the other day. When I walked by and said hello he looked like he was going to swallow his own tongue.” She shook her head gravely. “A man turns all pink and embarrassed like that, and that means something’s definitely going on.”
Amanda had a sudden flashback to her father’s admission that he had joined Alcoholics Anonymous, and that Mrs. Penn was one of the attendees as well. She was proud of his decision to try to stay sober, but she didn’t really know if he was okay with telling the whole town what he was going through.
“Not that I know of.” She thought about it for a second. Her father had been through a lot in the past, and maybe having a romantic companion would be a good, stable thing for him as he tried to build a new life for himself. “They’re just friends, I think. She said she was just driving by on her way to do another babysitting job in Likely. Said something about picking up some extra cash.”
Truthfully, the visit with her father and Mrs. Penn had been pleasant and chatty, with one exception. The moment Mrs. Penn had mentioned a babysitting job in Likely and how much she enjoyed being around the baby she’d been taking care of, she’d instantly seen a change in Officer Rollins’ expression. He’d been leaning against the doorframe, obviously bored by the conversation, when he suddenly straightened up as if poked with a hatpin.
“Um, I have to check in with the station. Be right back,” he’d gulped, then sidled out the door to the empty hallway. When her father and Mrs. Penn had left, Amanda could hear a short, muffled conversation just beyond the open door, with the only clear phrase coming from Rollins.
“…my payday is Friday.”
Chapter 21
However varied Amanda’s group of friends was, one thing was certain.
They truly knew how to throw a great party.
She probably shouldn’t have been surprised when Meg stopped by to visit and blurted out that a bunch of the ladies of Ravenwood Cove were set on hosting a baby shower for her. Even though Grace TwoHorses had been worried she’d accidentally leaked the secret, it hadn’t taken a great detective to figure out there was a plot afoot. The signs had been all around her, and now it seemed plans had been ramped up to fever pitch. Apparently, her being in the hospital had moved up the party date even closer, just in case the baby decided to make an early appearance.
Meg filled her in on the details, knowing that she needed to get Amanda’s approval. “The hospital’s been really great about the whole thing. They said we could use their smaller staff lunchroom for an hour, starting at two o’clock this afternoon. Most of the nurses who would use it are working at that time, or in some sort of training, I guess, so we won’t be disturbed. What do you think?”
Amanda suppressed a smile. She knew that Meg’s wide-eyed expression of anticipation was because she was hopeful Amanda would approve. “What do you mean, what do I think?
Meg’s sky-blue eyes were worried. “I know it’s really short notice, but we thought we should do it right away. Only if you’re up to it,” she quickly added, and Amanda finally chuckled.
“I’ll tell you what I think. I think I’m very lucky to have such great friends,” she said, and hugged Meg around the neck, touched by her generous heart and her obvious desire to try to make Amanda happy. “I know I’m lucky. Thank you.”
Meg pulled back, her face reflecting relief. She ran a hand through her blond curls and grinned. “Whew! I was worried you were going to say no. Okay. I’ll let everyone know the party’s on, and Lisa and I will be back to pick you up at two. Will that work for you?”
“Sure,” Amanda said. “Who’s coming?”
Meg gave a small laugh and crossed her arms in apparent triumph. “Well, the hospital said we could only have ten people but I talked them up to twenty. I know there will be more folks who want to give you gifts for the baby but they’re just going to have to wait.” She grinned. “Truman already pitched a fit because he’s not on the invite list, but Gran told him he didn’t have enough estrogen to be at a traditional baby shower.”
Amanda laughed and sat back on the hospital bed. “Sounds like something she’d do.”
“Yep,” Meg agreed. “He told her he was good friends with you and James and should be there, and asked if he’d be let in if he showed up in a dress.”
“A dress?” Amanda closed her eyes and laughed out loud. She’d seen her free-spirited friend in a kilt before, but she’d gotten used to Truman’s antics and rebellious nature. She could almost picture him stomping into the party in his combat boots, tattoos uncovered, wearing a multi-colored mohawk and a full-length formal.
Or a tutu.
---
Truthfully, Amanda was glad she’d been asked if it was okay to throw a baby shower for her, instead of being surprised. She was feeling fine, but the nurses and doctors still were fussing over her and her health. She also had the sneaking suspicion that if the police officers weren’t worried about how to keep her safe if she was released, she’d be heading home by now. Any chance she got, she made a beeline to James’ room to spend time with him, even if that meant lying down on the extra cot someone had set up in the corner behind his bed. His headaches and double vision had eased up, and she wasn’t surprised when he started arguing with the doctors about getting out of the hospital. The thought of it made Amanda’s blood run cold. She understood why her husband, always the law enforcement officer, wanted to hunt down whoever had attacked him and his family, but she couldn’t bear the idea of him getting hurt again.
When the doctors had said James still needed to stay in the hospital for a bit, he’d tried to take it with good humor, even if Amanda could tell he didn’t like their verdict. Their time together was pretty quiet. Sometimes he was sleeping and sometimes they just sat and talked, ignoring the awful daytime TV shows or the patrol officer posted outside the room. When they were together, it was as if the rest of the world kind of melted away, as if they were in an island of safety. At night, when she was in her own bed again, Amanda spent her time holding her belly, as if her arms could somehow protect the fragile life growing within. She talked to her unborn child sometimes, feeling it kick and move inside her, and as she drifted off to sleep would pray to God for protection from evil.
Because that’s what they were up against. Pure evil. What else would want to kill her husband, or not care if she or her baby got hurt?
Chapter 22
Getting ready for the baby shower, Amanda looked in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She adjusted the collar on her mint-green maternity dress for the umpteenth time and peeked to see her friends’ reactions. Lisa was perched on the side of the hospital bed, reading something on her phone, and Meg stood behind her, her head cocked sideways as she looked at Amanda’s reflection.
“You’ve been fussing with that outfit for the last five minutes. Come on, you look great!” Meg urged, and Amanda blew out a slow breath before answering.
“I just… ” She wasn’t exactly sure how to finish that sentence. It was pretty rare that she felt shy, but the thought of being guest of honor at her own party made her uncomfortable for some unknown reason. Maybe it was the fact a roomful of people would be watching every move she made while opening presents, or maybe it was because she felt the safest in either her room or James’.
Lisa glanced up from her phone, her expression serious. “What’s going on, Amanda? Are you okay?”
Trying to think of a good response, Amanda bit her bottom lip. “Yeah, I guess I am,” she said, her voice trailing off. “I just wish James could go to the party.”
Meg nodded in sympathy. “Well, I think Gran would’ve bent the rules about estrogen for James, but with him getting x-rays today, the timing wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”
Amanda kept her eyes on the mirror, trying to keep any possible tears from spilling over and showing her true feelings. It was true James’ sore ribs had been more painful than the doctors expected, so it made sense that they had scheduled him for a new set of x-rays to see if they’d missed any possible breaks or other issues. Sensible and necessary, but she still missed him.
Her friends and Dorcas, her assigned nurse for the shift, had all insisted on her arriving at the party in style, sitting in a wheelchair pushed by Lisa. Officer Rollins walked the whole way with them and held the doors open as Amanda was wheeled into the breakroom. As soon as she rolled in, there was an instant chorus of cheers and clapping. Smiling faces and familiar friends greeted her, obviously thrilled to be part of her celebration. Whether it was because of the upcoming baby or the fact she was safe and well, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was a party, a baby, and the friendship and love they all shared.
True to Amanda’s expectation, her friends hadn’t done anything halfway. Pink and blue balloons were clustered in festive bunches around the room, taped every few feet and decorated with glossy strands of curled white ribbon. Long tables were decked out with colorful tablecloths, nearly obscured by mounds of brightly wrapped gifts. Set in a chair by the kitchen doorway, an enormous white stuffed teddy bear sat in a lunchroom chair, staring at the guests with button eyes. The bear was nearly as tall as Amanda and had a huge red bow tied around his neck. A row of potted plants and a tall ficus tree were decked out with loops of crepe paper and twinkling lights, and a square table by the window held a full punchbowl and a stack of cups decorated with baby ducks.
Mrs. Granger was perched on the seat of her walker by the table, her face wreathed in a smile of smug satisfaction. Behind her was a white cake, shaped as if made from wooden building blocks and decorated with swirls of pastel-colored frosting.
Quickly glancing around, Amanda could see many of the people she loved most, their faces alight with affection for her, and excited to be celebrating her impending motherhood. Her mother in law, Flora was standing next to her daughter, Christy. Mrs. Bitterman and Mrs. Mason were seated near the back, clapping like crazy, their faces wreathed with happy smiles for the mother-to-be.
Elizabeth Porter was nearly bouncing up and down on the tips of her toes in excitement. Seeing Amanda’s questioning glance, she immediately knew what her boss was thinking and waved her hands as if shooing away her concerns.
“Don’t you worry about a thing! Truman’s offered to mind the Inn this afternoon, so it’s all under control. I got everything done ahead of time as much as possible, and there’s not much he could mess up in just a couple of hours. Oh, and I hope you like the cake.” She grinned. “It’s my own recipe: chocolate caramel swirl!”
The next hour was a blur of laughter, tearing wrapping paper, and oohs and aahs over tiny outfits, little booties, and animal-shaped pacifiers. Mrs. Granger had brought the largest gift, an extravagant stroller with a baby seat that could be removed and buckled into a car. When Amanda unwrapped a set of super-soft receiving blankets with cartoon ducklings on them, Danielle Ortiz had been only too happy to tell her, “And I did all the hemming myself!” The blankets, like all the other gifts, were passed around the room so partygoers could see them up close, and Danielle got more than one compliment on her hand-sewing prowess. By the time Amanda had finished opening gifts, there was an enormous mound of wrapping paper, discarded ribbons, and empty boxes in front of her. Lisa was still jotting details on a piece of paper, noting every gift so thank you cards could be sent.
After the cake was cut and cups of punch distributed, everyone settled into their seats to eat. Meg brought Amanda a thick slice of cake and some juice, then plopped down next to her and admitted that Truman had provided the huge teddy bear. “I think he just wanted to be included in the shower,” Meg added, stabbing the luscious frosting on her plate with a fork. “He said every baby should have a stuffed bear.”
Balancing her little plate of cake on her belly, Amanda couldn’t help but grin. “It figures that he’d find a way to be here, even if he was told it was for women only.”
Meg was suddenly quiet, which was unusual for her. Even with all the happy chatter going on around the room, Amanda was aware that somehow her normally gregarious friend was hurt just talking about Truman. She reached out a gentle hand and touched Meg’s arm.
“Hey, you want to talk about it?”
Meg glanced around the room, which was buzzing with ladies chatting and sharing stories of motherhood and labor. “Not much to tell really. We’re just having a difference of opinion about my mother, that’s all,” she said, sliding her half-eaten plate of cake onto the table. “They don’t like each other, and I’m caught right in the middle. It’s… stressful.”
Amanda wasn’t surprised, since Truman had let her know how he felt about Valerie, but it still hurt to hear her friend was upset by it all.
Meg pressed her lips together, as if suppressing her unspoken thoughts, then reached up and patted Amanda’s hand. “I’ll be okay. It’s no big deal. It’s just that I have Truman not liking her, and then my gran not wanting to be around her at all. I’m just sick of it.” She gave a wan smile. “But today isn’t about family drama, is it?” she said, sounding more like her perky self. “It’s all about you and your family. We’re here to celebrate, not whine about other people.”
As the party wound down, Amanda did her best to talk with everyone, taking their endless advice about parenting and gentle teasing with laughter and good humor. After Amy Ortiz told her she should walk more to put herself into labor, Amanda was just about to answer her back when a very large, very angry nurse strode into the room, then put her hands on her bountiful hips.
“Well, ladies, it’s definitely time for you all to leave. We can hear the hullabaloo all the way down at the nurses’ station and it’s been exactly one hour. Time for you all to go.” She glanced around, her face a stone mask of authority. “This hospital has to have some quiet for our patients, you know.”
Meg’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Look, I’m really sorry if we were too loud. We didn’t want to disturb anyone! Can’t we have just ten more minutes? We haven’t played the last game yet.”
The nurse shook her head and gave a scowl that reminded Amanda of the army drill sergeants she’d seen in movies. “Playtime’s over.” She looked at Amanda. “And I know a certain mother-to-be that’s due back to her bed to get some rest.”
As soon as Amanda was mentioned, the ladies had to admit defeat. They gathered up their purses and coats, giving Amanda hugs and kisses on her cheek or a pat on her shoulder before slowly filing out. Lisa and Meg did their best to scurry around quickly and clean up the room, filling two big trash bins with the excess paper and disposable plates, and Mrs. Granger wheeled over to sit beside Amanda, watching their efforts.
Lisa tossed the last of the trash into the can and brushed her hands together, showing a job completed. “Hey, Amanda, I don’t’ think they’re going to let you keep all this loot in your hospital room, so Meg and I were thinking about taking it back to your house and stashing it there. Is that okay with you?”
“Probably a good idea,” Amanda agreed, but she had a mental twinge about the fact her husband wouldn’t get the chance to see the darling gifts her friends had given her. “How about I pick out a few things to keep here, just so I can show them to James?”
Meg walked over to the teddy bear and chuckled. “Of course! Just choose some of them you want to keep with you and you can put them in that empty box,” she said, gesturing toward the lone cardboard survivor of the cleanup. With a grunt of effort, she grabbed the huge stuffed animal by the neck and tried to lift it. “Now, do you think we can wedge this in the stroller and just wheel it out to the car?”
Amanda did her best to stay out of her friends’ way while they started gathering up things to put in the car, and they obeyed her directions for which gifts she wanted to set aside to show James. Officer Rollins had been silent during the party, hanging out by the doorway and keeping his opinions about feminine baby showers to himself, which was probably wise. As Lisa and Meg started to pick up the gifts he went into the small kitchen, and finally emerged with a wheeled cart. It didn’t take long for the three of them to get the presents piled on top, and Rollins held the door as Meg and Lisa pushed the loot out and down the hallway.
“Did you get any cake?” Amanda asked the officer politely, feeling somehow that she hadn’t fulfilled her duties as hostess.
Rollins shook his head and leaned back against the doorframe. “Thanks, but I’m trying to limit sweets these days.”
“Well, that was a really nice party,” Mrs. Granger pronounced. Her gaze drifted toward the remains of the cake. “I have to go to the powder room. Can you be sure Meg wraps me up some of that cake to go?” She grinned, mischief in her eyes. “Leftover cake is just about my favorite dinner in the whole world. Or spam that’s been grilled. That’s good, too.” Mrs. Granger hefted herself up, then gripped the handles on her walker and headed toward the exit by the kitchen without a backward glance.
Left alone with her police guard, Amanda wasn’t sure if she was supposed to chat or ignore him. He seemed to be busy on his phone, and Amanda could see his eyes flare open suddenly. He instantly began writing something back to the message he’d received, tapping the screen with emphatic speed, his face full of worry and concentration.
After a full minute of back and forth communication, he finally turned to Amanda. “Um, I just need a couple of minutes to call someone.” He looked both ways down the hallway, then looked at Amanda again. “Are you okay on your own for a bit? I promise it will just be a --”
“Of course,” Amanda interrupted, seeing how upset Rollins seemed to be. “Everything okay?”
“Personal,” was his clipped, one-word answer, as he rushed out the door.
The silence of being alone in the room was a welcome relief from the previous chaos of the baby shower. Even though Amanda loved her friends, sometimes she felt bone-weary, and an hour of having to be social and gregarious had left her tired and ready for a cozy nap. Amanda pulled the cardboard box onto a metal chair next to her and started folding the delicate little garments. She hummed happily to herself as she pictured her own healthy baby wearing the tiny clothes her friends had chosen or made. There were so many dreams of the future in the sweet knitted sweaters and soft blankets she’d been given. It was almost as if she could feel the affection and warm wishes for her family.
Just as she picked up the last item, she could hear a familiar tread behind her and smiled. Robbins was as good as his word and had returned in almost no time at all.
“Oh, I’m glad you’re back,” she said as she expertly folded the tiny knit sweater. “Can you give me a hand moving the box, please?”
There was only silence in response. Amanda turned her head, sweater still in her hands.
And was looking directly down the barrel of a chrome-plated pistol, pointed right between her eyes.
Chapter 23
Her brain seemed to stop working, locked in timeless, formless panic as she stared at the huge gun.
“Mrs. Penn… what are you doing?” she choked out.
“It’s taken me quite some time to get my revenge on Landon, and I’m going to enjoy this.” Mrs. Penn said with a grim smile. “Every minute of it.”
"But what possible reason could you have to hate James?” Amanda tried to slow her breathing down, frantically hoping to summon every ounce of courage so she could think clearly.
Mrs. Penn made a sound of disgust. “Does it matter?” Her smile didn’t go up to her narrowed eyes. “Or can’t you guess?”
Amanda took a deep breath. “You’re… you’ve got something to do with Roger Greentree, don’t you? You’re his mother, or sister, or something." Amanda could feel her frantic pulse racing through her body. “It was your scarf out there in the woods.”
A silent nod, Penn’s eyes still locked on her.
“You were using the name Mrs. Penn when you sent that threatening letter. You’re… like a poison Penn, aren’t you? Making anonymous threats..”
Pushing back a stray strand of gray hair, the woman glared at Amanda with absolute hatred etched on her face.
"Not anonymous anymore, am I? Yes, I used the name Penn for that reason, and I’m proud to be a Greentree. Proud as I can be, after everything that’s happened."
Amanda shook her head in disbelief. "So, you’re the one who's been after James? The one who blew up his car and nearly killed him?"
She got a snort of contempt in response. “Pretty good, huh? After your father told me all about the security cameras your husband put up around the house, it wasn’t too hard to cut the power for a bit and plant the bomb. Lots of people lose power around here when there’s a windstorm. I knew I could get away with you thinking that was the reason.”
“My father…?”
Mrs. Greentree laughed. “Think I was cozying up to him at those meetings just for a bit of romance? That man is completely wrapped up in your life. Didn’t take much to get him to talk about what Landon was doing to try to keep you safe.”
If I can only hold out a little bit longer and keep her talking, someone should walk in, Amanda thought, trying not to look toward the closed door. Please, God, send someone!
What began as almost paralyzing fear was slowly changing to something else. The horror of the last few days flashed before Amanda's eyes and she could feel rage starting to pour through her, like a rushing flood of fire in her veins.
"You nearly killed my husband, and you could've killed me and my baby! What is wrong with you?"
Slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, Mrs. Greentree drew the hammer back on the silver revolver.
"Nothing a little blood won't fix." Her smile didn’t reach her dark eyes. They stared at Amanda like two bottomless black disks, devoid of all humanity and emotion. "James Landon ruined my life, and now I'm going to ruin his."
"Ruined your life?" Amanda gasped. "What are you talking about? Your son was holding a young girl hostage and the only way James could free her was to shoot him. He lived, even if he did go to jail he wasn’t killed! He was hurt a lot less by that bullet than my husband was by your bomb!"
Mrs. Penn's laughter was sharp and bitter. "You call that less? Him going off to prison for years at a stretch? That's not less. That’s hell. I've had to do without for all that time while Roger was in jail." She gave a short bark of bitter laughter. "He's my only boy, my only child. You know how hard it is, having your kin locked up like some dangerous animal?"
Amanda thought back to what James had said about Greentree, about his history of crimes that had started in his teens, and how he’d evolved from petty theft to violence and preying on the weak.
"You don't need to do this, Mrs. Penn," Amanda said, trying to appear friendly and calm as she put up both hands in front of her, palms open as if in surrender. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out her best tactic to escape. "I'm not your enemy. I'm sure we can work this all out."
The lady seemed to pause as if considering for just a moment, then she straightened up. "No, darlin', we can't. You wouldn’t understand why just yet, because you're not a mother. If you ever got to be one, you'd understand."
The implication of Greentree's words instantly hit Amanda. Greentree meant to kill her right where she stood. After having been in all sorts of dangerous situations, this was the first time Amanda realized her chances were hopeless. She was clumsy and slow due to being so heavily pregnant, and any shot the crazed woman fired could hit her unborn child.
"But I already am a mother, Mrs. Greentree," Amanda said, trying to keep her voice from shaking, both from adrenaline and anger. "I can feel this baby moving and kicking and hiccuping inside me. It could be born any day, and I've loved it since the moment I knew it was coming. Can't you understand that?"
The bitter woman blew out a great sigh through pursed lips, then re-aimed the pistol.
"I'm sorry. That’s not my problem. I’m doing this for Roger, and all the years he couldn’t live his life as a free man."
"What in the blue blazes is going on here?" Mrs. Granger hollered, pushing her walker before her as she rounded the corner from the kitchen door. "And why are you pointing that gun at my friend?"
The last words were said higher and higher in sudden alarm, and Amanda saw Greentree turn to see who was yelling at her. As she moved, Amanda pivoted and sprinted toward the doorway to the hall, her arms crossed protectively over her stomach.
"Run, Gran, run!" she nearly screamed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mrs. Granger pull something small and black out of her battered old purse.
There was one loud gunshot, then another.
A flash of fire and the sharp smell of gunpowder, and everything seemed to suddenly move in slow-motion.
Mrs. Greentree gave an unearthly scream and grabbed her elbow, the gun she'd been holding dropping from her nerveless fingers.
Mrs. Granger toppled over backward into a line of potted plants and collapsed on the linoleum floor.
Amanda could hear anguished moaning from where Mrs. Greentree knelt, holding her arm as blood dripped through her fingers from the wound.
Mrs. Granger was deathly silent and unmoving.
"Gran!" Amanda's heart was racing as she saw Mrs. Granger on the floor. As Greentree slumped over in shock and defeat, gasping in pain, Amanda made a mad dash to Mrs. Granger’s side. The ninety-year-old lady lay on the linoleum floor, sprawled out and barely breathing, her eyes closed. "Oh, no! Gran! Are you okay?"
The main door slammed open, smashing against the lunchroom wall as James barreled into the room. He was still wearing a hospital gown but had added sweatpants and somehow had retrieved his service revolver. James raced across the room toward Amanda, his gun in hand. Officer Rollins was hot on his heels, and instantly rushed over to Mrs. Greentree, kicking the gun away from her outstretched hand.
“James!” Amanda left out a sob of disbelief as James threw himself down on his knees by Mrs. Granger and pulled his wife to him. "She’s been shot! Call a doctor!" Amanda begged, and James pulled away a bit to lean over the elderly lady.
"They’ll be here in just a minute," James said, gently picking up Mrs. Granger's bony hand. "Mrs. Granger? Can you hear me?"
There was a sudden sound of disgust. "Hear you? Sonny, this close, I can tell you had onions for lunch.”
Mrs. Granger's eyes were still closed, but her words were clear as a bell.
"I may have fallen backward from the recoil of my gun, but otherwise I'm just fine." Then her eyes flew opened, startled.
"Well, maybe I spoke too soon. I may have had an accident all right, but it's a different kind of accident. I never did make it to the potty." She looked into Amanda's tearful and relieved face. "You okay, sweetie?"
Amanda couldn’t stop the tears rolling down her face. "Oh, Gran! Gran!" she leaned over and hugged and kissed her ancient friend, so dear she was almost family. "I was so scared for you! Are you sure you’re not hurt?"
"Help me up," Mrs. Granger demanded, but James put his foot down.
"Not until the doctors check you over."
"You're not the boss of me," she snapped, but his dark eyebrows drew together in a look of disapproval Amanda had seen only a couple of times before. That look meant there would be no way to change his mind.
"You're going to stay there, my dear, even if I have to sit on you. Got it?"
"Fine, Mr. Bossy Boots," she replied in a disgusted tone, then brushed a long palm frond out of her eyes. "Can you at least get me out of the potted plants?"
Chapter 24
When Amanda had first seen the derelict Ravenwood Cove Inn, it had been a huge hulk of a building covered in cobwebs and vines and left to decay. She’d had no idea that Christmas parties at her restored bed-and-breakfast would become a beloved annual tradition in Ravenwood Cove.
This year, Elizabeth Porter had been in charge of the party, and she’d truly outdone herself. Left to her own devices since Amanda was in the hospital, she’d worked every minute she could to ensure the Inn was decked out in over-the-top Christmas perfection. As soon as Amanda walked through the oversized front door she smiled in utter delight. It was instantly apparent that her lone employee had thought through every detail for the holiday open house. Fresh cedar garlands were looped with ribbons and lights and twined around the handrail on the main staircase. In the parlor, the tall Christmas tree was heavy with antique ornaments and glittering tinsel, reflecting the snapping log fire in the fireplace. The dessert table was especially grand. Sitting in the center was a stunning gingerbread house decorated to duplicate the Victorian grandeur of the Inn, with tiny lights shining behind sugar-glass windows like miniature candles. Platters of delicate cookies and piles of mini fruitcakes sat next to a stack of the Inn’s best bone china, and an antique punch bowl held frothy eggnog. Overhead, the crystal chandelier shone in sparkling glory, as if ready to celebrate the season and welcome the townspeople in classic style.
James was absolutely grinning as he carefully pulled his wife’s wool coat off her shoulders and hung it on the foyer coatrack. “Wow! This place reminds me of being a kid and my Mom fussing over every detail. I think we need to give Elizabeth a raise.”
As they walked toward the kitchen there was a sudden chorus of delighted squeals.
“You made it!”
“Amanda!”
“What do you think?”
“Did you see the gingerbread house?”
Amanda had to laugh at the cluster of happy, expectant faces gathered around her as she walked into the kitchen. She’d known Lisa and Meg had been helping Elizabeth with some of the preparations for the party, but seeing Truman wrapped in a huge white apron with a chef’s hat pulled down to nearly his eyes was a surprise. Right by his side, paring knife in one hand and a metal bowl of strawberries in front of him, Sage seemed to be concentrating on the best way to remove the stems.
After a hug from Elizabeth, Amanda slid onto one of the stools by the huge marble island. “Meg, isn’t your gran coming? I thought you were bringing her to the party.”
Meg retied her apron and shook her head. “No, she told me she’s going to take the day catching up on her soap operas and resting. She was lucky she didn’t break anything when she fell, but at her age she bruises like a peach. She’s a bit sore, but to be honest I think the real reason she didn’t want to come because she’s mostly embarrassed at how black and blue she is.”
There were sounds of sympathy all around, and Meg gave a shrug. “Really, I think she’s fine. She definitely hasn’t lost her appetite, I can tell you. I’ve been ordered to bring her back two pieces of Elizabeth’s famous pumpkin pie, though, and she even wanted to see if I could score some extra whipped cream.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms, a smug grin on her face. “I told you I made the best pumpkin pie in the entire world,” she said. “I had her taste test one of my earlier versions and she said it was better than her own mother’s pies.” She looked over at Meg. “Glad your grandmother appreciates talent.”
She walked over to the industrial-sized fridge and pulled out two big pies. Closing the door with a practiced bump from her hip, she turned and slid the pies onto the marble slab.
“Come on, Amanda. Take a bite.” She dug a fork out from a nearby drawer and grinned at her boss. “You keep looking at me like I’m crazy for serving pumpkin pie for Christmas. Tell me if I’m wrong. Go on.”
She dug the fork into the nearest pie, making sure to scoop up one of the pastry stars that dotted the top, along with the rich pumpkin filling.
At first bite, Amanda knew Elizabeth was a cooking genius. She was absolutely right. Whatever magic she’d used to make such a delectable pie was unknown, but from now on Amanda had a strong suspicion she’d want one every Christmas. The delicate pastry melted into buttery flakes, and the rich spices in the pumpkin were balanced perfectly.
“Told ya,” Elizabeth said, pulling out a little plate and serving up a generous slice of pie. There was a pottery bowl on the corner of the kitchen island, and she pulled it toward herself, reaching over to grab a serving spoon. With a comical flair, she plopped a huge dollop of whipped cream on top before sliding it toward Amanda.
“And I always feed pregnant ladies before anyone else,” she said.
James gave a nod of agreement. “Smart plan,” he said. “This lady gets whatever she wants these days.”
Sage was stabbing at a lone strawberry and seemed unamused. “Hey, can somebody show me how to do this? I have no clue. I’m a car dude.”
Elizabeth surveyed his half-hearted attempts and finally grabbed the metal bowl away from him. “Give me that,” she said, not unkindly. “The guests will be showing up any minute, and if you keep going the way you are, all the berries will be whittled down to nothing. I might as well make jam.”
James gave Amanda a quick kiss on the side of her head before walking off, apparently making sure that everything was ready for the party. Watching her friends all working so hard on the food, Amanda felt almost guilty.
“Can I help?” she asked, already knowing what the answer would be.
“We’ve got this,” Lisa answered, pulling out a stack of holiday-printed napkins. “You just sit there and supervise.”
Free from his duties, Sage was only too happy to plop down on a stool next to Amanda.
“So,” Amanda began, digging out a new bite of pie. “What’s new with you?”
Truman gave a knowing snort of amusement, but Sage ignored him. “Well, I’ve finally got Old Man Quincy off my back,” he said. “I offered to do some work on his Cadillac. Now he comes by the shop now and talks to me while I work on other people’s cars.” He leaned an elbow on the marble slab. “Turns out he’s not so bad a guy after all. He knows a lot about history and stuff, so that’s cool. Oh, and I got a side job, too.”
“Really?” Amanda said. “What side job?”
“Mr. Petrie wants to commission me to paint a mural for him on the side of his ice cream store. He says if I do a good job there may be more I could paint around town later.”
Meg perked up and looked interested. “What sort of mural are you going to do?”
The teenager’s smile was ear-to-ear and absolutely genuine. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about what to paint and I’ve decided to do something about the history of Ravenwood Cove. You know, all that stuff Mrs. Granger was talking about, like the logging company that was here, and that factory outside town that made jams and jellies. She told me her husband used to work on a railroad that ran near Ravenwood, too. There’s lots of history right here, you know, not just around the world.”
“A railroad? You mean Lucky Rail?” Amanda asked, catching a glimpse of her husband heading toward the door. From the focused look on his face, she was pretty sure he’d seen the first of their party guests pulling into the circular drive.
“That’s the one,” Sage confirmed.
They could hear the front door being pulled open, and then James’ startled exclamation.
“Holy cow! What are you doing here?”
There was a gust of cold air and then a familiar face popped around the doorframe.
“Well, look at you! How’d a good-looking chick like you ever get stuck with my two-headed brother?”
Amanda’s eyes widened in absolute shock.
“Gable!” She slid off her seat just as he took several long steps toward her and gave her a cautious hug. “Why didn’t you tell us you were sure you were coming? I can’t believe you’re here!”
James stood behind him, beaming with satisfaction.
Her brother in law chuckled. “Why is everyone so shocked that I’m home for Christmas? Just because I haven’t been in Ravenwood for the holidays for years doesn’t mean the black sheep of the family can’t show up for the biggest party in town, does it?”
Amanda gave him a playful poke with her elbow. “You’re not the black sheep, and you know it.”
“Maybe not, but sometimes I like pretending I still am,” he said with a playful wink. Looking around at the smiling faces in the kitchen, he was just about to reach out and shake Lisa’s hand when he suddenly stopped.
"Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you a gift, but I left it in the car and it's probably cold and cranky by now."
"Cold...and cranky?"
Gable strode over to the front door and slipped outside. Within a few moments he was back, leading a grinning Jennifer Peetman behind him.
"I thought you'd appreciate seeing a familiar face," he said, moving out of the way just in time to keep from being crushed as Jennifer rushed to hug her one-time boss.
There was a lot of happy laughter and squealing as the two women embraced, and when they finally pulled back Amanda’s eyes were moist with emotion. As much as she loved Elizabeth, Jennifer held a very special place in her heart. They’d built the Inn together and learned things together, as well as faced danger when it had come to town. If it wasn’t for Jennifer using her martial arts skills, Amanda wasn’t sure she would have survived the assassin’s attack on her.
Even if no one else showed up or the ones who did hated the party, it almost didn’t matter. She was with Jennifer again. It was true Amanda had been thrilled for the opportunities Gable had given Jennifer, to use her unusual skills in jobs around the globe, but a tiny selfish part of her was just thrilled to have sit down over a steaming cup of tea and talk face-to-face with her dear friend.
***
One of the benefits of being the owner of the Ravenwood Cove Inn, as well as the most obviously pregnant lady in attendance, was that Amanda got her pick of which comfy chair was her throne for the evening. As soon as she’d settled into one of the upholstered ones in the sunroom, James put her plate on the side table and commandeered the seat next to her. George Ortiz had been staying near his family most of the evening, but when his wife took the kids to do another lap by the buffet table, he wandered over and plopped down on a wooden bench.
“So, Wayne’s not going to make it tonight.” There was something in the tone of his voice that caught Amanda’s attention.
“Oh? Why not?”
George cleared his throat before answering. “Because his baby’s teething and he wanted to be with him.”
James’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Baby? What baby? Since when does Rollins have a baby?”
“Since about five months ago.” George sighed. “I guess he’d been seeing a girl over in Likely and after they split up she found out she was pregnant. He’s been dating Maisie Steele for a while now and he’s never had the courage to come out and tell her he has a child with someone else.” He looked at James. “He’s been keeping it a secret from just about everyone.”
Amanda looked horrified. “Why not? How could he keep a baby a secret for that long?”
George picked up his glass of spiced cider. “I guess Maisie’s real jealous about past girlfriends and Wayne just couldn’t muster the courage to tell her about his son. He says his ex-girlfriend isn’t very reliable, and he’s been having Mrs. Penn…I mean, Mrs. Greentree, babysit for him. Great choice, huh?”
“So, he’s been hiding the truth this whole time?” James made a sound of absolute disgust. “What a weakling. He should’ve stepped up like a man and told Maisie the truth. How did you find out?”
“I brought him in for his performance review. There had been several times I couldn’t get ahold of him, and that’s not acceptable.” He paused, waiting, and wasn’t disappointed.
James’ face darkened in anger. “You mean like when that looney woman was taking potshots at me out in the woods, right? That’s why you had to get Burt Harwood to come help you that night, because Wayne was missing in action.”
George’s silence automatically confirmed James’ accusations. Amanda shifted in her chair, both the conversation and the lumpy upholstery making her uncomfortable.
“Well, that’s just great,” James said, finally blowing out a deep breath of frustration. “Is he off the force?”
“On probation for right now. I think he’ll pull things together. He might not be able to keep Maisie, but Wayne’s not a bad guy. He’ll figure things out, and I’ll do my best to help him.” He paused, as if considering what else he could say freely. “He hasn’t had the best examples of what fathers are, so I’m going to try to show him what it means to be a dad.”
They sat in silence for a moment, happy conversations and laughter going on around them, as they thought about what Wayne Rollins had been dealing with. Finally, Amanda changed the subject.
“You know, George, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
The police chief looked startled. “Me? What did I do?”
“Well,” Amanda said, “if you’d told me the scarf you found in the woods was crocheted instead of saying it was knit, I probably would’ve investigated the most prolific crocheter in Ravenwood Cove. Maybe I would’ve been able to learn more about Mrs. Greentree before everything escalated.”
“You want me to know the difference between something that’s knit and something that’s crocheted?” George gave a snort of laughter. “If you ask me the difference in calibers or penal codes, I can recite them in my sleep. If you’re gonna try to get me to distinguish between stuff made with yarn, well…” He looked down his nose at her in mock dismissal. “Mrs. Landon, you’re flat outta luck.”
Chapter 25
Two hours later, and Amanda was in her own bedroom, gratefully watching James kneel in front of her as he pulled the low-heeled shoes off her puffy feet. She’d been so tired after the party that it took every bit of her strength just to change into a nightgown, and it had been quite some time since she’d been able to remove her own shoes. It had gotten to be an unspoken ritual between them, that he'd take care of anything below Amanda's knee level, as she was so hugely pregnant she couldn't bend over much.
He held up the blankets as she slid into the comfy bed with a weary sigh.
"Thank you, honey. I don't know when I've ever been so tired, but it was all worth it, wasn’t it?"
James switched off her bedside lamp, then walked around to his side of the bed. "Trust me, Ravenwood Cove will be talking about this holiday open house for years to come. What a great party!"
Amanda closed her eyes and smiled, absolutely happy. "It was great, wasn’t it? The wait staff was awesome, the Dickens carolers showed up right on time, and I don't think I've ever seen such a pretty tree." She sighed. "The whole house smelled like fresh pine and great food. I loved it."
“Me, too,” James said. “Elizabeth outdid herself, if you ask me. I think she could give Dave Barton down at the bakery a run for his money."
"Did you see Lisa take a photo of the dessert table?" Amanda asked. "I wouldn't be surprised if it isn’t in tomorrow's paper. She said she was going to do a write up of the party."
She heard off-key humming from the bathroom as James brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. Thinking back on the night’s festivities, she’d bet money there were a couple of new romances that started that night, and maybe a few business deals as well. When Meg had confided that she and Truman were working out how to deal with Meg’s mother, Amanda had been thrilled. It hurt to see her friends not getting along well, and Truman and Meg made an unusual but wonderful couple. The only negative thing that had happened all night was a text from her father. Ever since he’d realized he was the one who’d given Mrs. Greentree the info about the new security cameras, he’d been eaten up with guilt. Amanda had only seen him once since the day Mrs. Greentree was arrested but there had been a barrage of voicemails and texts, begging her forgiveness. Even after Amanda told him there was nothing to forgive, her father was still doing his best to make amends.
Buttoning the top of his pajamas, James slid across the expanse of the huge bed and gently shoved Benson out of the way. When her husband had first insisted on buying a California King for their new house Amanda had thought it was too big, but she had to admit that sometimes having so much space was wonderful. Benson loved to sleep on the bed, and when he’d sprawl out in happy comfort he took up more room than expected.
Eyes shut in near-slumber, Amanda felt her husband's large, warm hand slide protectively across her taut belly.
Warm, protected, and loved.
Her family.
She couldn't wait to see what the future held for them all.
***
Apparently, neither could her baby.
At four in the morning she awoke with a start, realizing that something unusual had happened. It took her just a second to figure it out, and then she reached over and put a gentle hand on James' shoulder.
"Honey, I think my water just broke."
He gave a great yawn. "What? You want some water?" Slowly, he sat upright, his eyes still closed. “I’ll go get it for you.”
Amanda tried not to laugh. "No, honey. My water broke."
She rolled toward him, just in time to see his eyes fly open in sudden realization of what she’d said. Her husband, trained law enforcement professional, used to every situation, always in charge, leaped out of bed and grabbed the phone from his nightstand. His eyes were wide with near-panic.
"Okay, I'll get your bag! Stay there!"
"I'm not going anywhere," Amanda said dryly, trying to joke around a bit, but her frantic husband instantly popped his head around the hallway doorframe.
"Oh, yes you are!"
***
"Well, Amanda, that is the coolest thing you’ve ever made, hands down," Meg said. "She's absolutely gorgeous!"
"She’s not a thing. You make her sound like a cupcake or a quiche or something," James said, walking back and forth with the blanket-wrapped perfection of his tiny daughter in his broad arms. "And don't forget, I had a bit of a hand in making this little girl, too, didn't I?" He bent closer to his daughter and made quiet kissing sounds. "Didn't I, sweet pea?"
The baby’s delicate top lip dimpled in gentle sucking.
"Oh, you two are the limit," Mrs. Granger said, glancing at Amanda. "When it comes to babies, always give credit where credit is due. God makes babies, and the parents just help a bit."
"Fair enough," James agreed, rocking and walking the baby. "Nobody else could invent a miracle like this. I'm just happy she's healthy and everything turned out fine."
Amanda's smile was slow and tired, but full of unspeakable happiness. "It was worth every bit of it," she said. "Pregnancy and childbirth. She was worth it, I mean."
Mrs. Granger nodded. "See? That's what new mothers do. They somehow instantly forget how much they hollered during labor and how sore they are. Within hours, they start talking about how they want another baby. Mark my words," she said, pointing a crooked finger at James. "Always happens."
Amanda laughed and shook her head, then held out her arms for the baby. James leaned over and slowly transferred her to Amanda, as gingerly as if the newborn had been made of spun glass. "One at a time, Gran,” Amanda said. “I've got a lot to learn about all this."
"What are you going to name her?" Meg asked, and James and Amanda exchanged quick glances.
"Well, we did a lot of talking about it,” Amanda said, “and I think we've settled on the name Katherine Flora Landon. We’re going to have her christened in a couple of weeks. Does that suit you, gran?"
"I... you’re going to call her Katherine, like me?" she asked, her bird-like eyes suddenly bright with surprise and emotion. "Really?"
James nodded. "And we'll call her Katie for short. What do you think?"
The moisture in Mrs. Granger's eyes was quickly wiped away by the back of one blue-veined hand. "I think that's just swell." She choked back her emotion. "Thank you."
As James talked quietly with Meg and Mrs. Granger, Amanda looked down at the sleeping face of her sweet baby and thought of all the blessings she'd had since coming to Ravenwood. She could still remember how she felt the day she arrived, broken-hearted after a bad love affair, inheriting a tumbledown building that turned out to have a dead guy buried in the garden, and feeling all alone.
Now, two years later, she was truly home. She had a husband who loved her, friends and family who flocked around her, and a beautiful new baby.
She sighed and leaned over to kiss little Katie's face. The infinitely precious scent of new baby surrounded her, and the softness of the infant’s tiny cheek against her lips was sheer joy.
Whatever life may throw at her, she knew she was in the right place.
In Ravenwood Cove, with those she loved.
***
… for reading this book! I have several series, and check reader reviews to let me know which one people like the best. If you’d like to see more books about Ravenwood Cove or other stories of love and adventure, please take a moment to leave a review on Amazon. ��
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Other Carolyn L. Dean books:
Here are the books in the Ravenwood Cove series:
#1 – BED, BREAKFAST, and BONES
#2 – DUNE, DOCK, and a DEAD MAN
#3 – MISTLETOE, MOONLIGHT, and MURDER
#7 – ROCKS, ROSES, and RIPTIDES
#8 – FRUIT, FLOWER, and FLAMES
#10- JAM, JELLY, and JUST DESSERTS
…and here are the books in the World Travel Cozy Mystery series:
#1 – PERILS IN PROVENCE
#2 – A CORPSE IN CORNWALL
…and here are the books in the Brightwater Bay series:
#2 – A TINY DASH OF DEATH
#3 – A SWEET SPOONFUL OF CYANIDE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR – Carolyn L. Dean
USA Today best-selling author
I've been writing and making stories in my head as early as I can remember. In third grade, I came home, set my lunchbox down, and told my mother I wanted to be a writer. Luckily, Mom was supportive.
I've been a published author for a few years now, under different names and genres, but the thought of writing about a small coastal town in Oregon, and about its loves and mysteries and holidays and people has been with me for years. To be honest, I am always a bit scared to dump those ideas onto the written page, but hope you'll enjoy getting to meet the people who inhabit my imagination.
In real life, I'm married with kids, live on the West Coast of the US, and own a hobby farm just outside of my favorite small town. I’m a full-time author. I love to travel and can often be found strolling down a windy beach, holding onto the string of a high-sailing dragon kite.