Chapter 48
Sheila had just finished hanging all the Christmas wreaths in her windows. She stepped out into the front yard to see if she had them all straight. She had a very good eye for straight. The wreath that hung in Jonathon’s bedroom window seemed a bit off. She went back in, walked up the steps to his room, and fixed the wreath. When she came back down, Steve was sitting on the couch reading the newspaper. One of the great things about his business was that he sometimes had a lot of time on his hands and could spend a lot of it with her.
“What are you doing, hon?” he said.
“Working on my wreaths,” she said.
“Ever hear of a day of rest?”
“You know me better than that,” she said, leaned down and kissed him. “Be right back.”
She went outside again, welcoming the cold. Being in the Caribbean sun had felt unnatural to her. She walked to the edge of her yard and looked at her house. Each wreath in each window appeared fine. But something was off. She stood there a moment, trying to put her finger on what it was. Her house was the same, but it also somehow looked different. It wasn’t simply the Christmas decorations she had added. Something was missing. Her old butter churn was gone!
She took a deep breath. Maybe Steve had done something with it.
“Steve?” she yelled toward the house.
It was a butter churn she had found at a yard sale a few years back. She had painted it and sat it on her front porch. It had been sitting there for years. She started to walk toward the house and a dark figure caught her eye as it moved around the corner. She caught a glimpse of the face—it couldn’t be! It was the creepy man from the cruise! She was certain.
What was he doing here? Well, damn if she wasn’t going to find out! He was on her turf now. She started to take off after him when her husband came out onto the porch.
“What?” he said.
She kept moving.
“Where the hell are you going?” Steve chased after her.
All her years of running were going to do her good. She’d catch him and force him to tell her what he wanted with her. Why was he in Cumberland Creek?
“There’s a man,” Sheila said. “I just saw him.”
She ran to the end of her street, her heart thrumming, blood rushing. Where did he go? She scanned Ivy Lane. Nobody was out. A car passed. She didn’t recognize the driver.
Steve caught up with her and grabbed her shoulder. “What’s going on?”
She explained about the creepy man on the cruise and how she’d seen him.
“Here?” he said. He seemed incredulous. “Did you get a good look?”
Mrs. Blackburn came walking down the street and smiled at them. “How do?” she said.
“Did you see a man dressed in a long dark coat?” Sheila asked.
“No,” she said. “I’ve not seen anybody out. Right before supper for most folks, I guess. Merry Christmas, if I don’t see you before.”
“Same to you,” said Steve.
Damn! thought Sheila. Where did he go?
“Sheila, let’s go back in the house and talk about this. I don’t see anybody at all. Are you certain you saw someone?”
She nodded as he led her back to their house. She stopped in front of it.
“Steve, what happened to my butter churn?” she said.
“Your what?”
“My butter churn. You remember, I painted it green with daisies down the front of it. We had it sitting on the front porch for years,” she said.
He looked off toward their porch. “I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t even know it was missing.”
“Someone took my butter churn? Right off the porch?”
“We haven’t been home,” he said. “Maybe we should have secured it elsewhere. I didn’t even think about it. Bryant asked me if anything was missing and I told him no.”
“Bryant?” Sheila said.
“Sheila, I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you this. Let’s go inside. Seems like you’ve got something to tell me, too. Who is this man you think you saw?”
Sheila took a deep breath and told her husband about the man on the cruise ship.
Steve reddened and looked like he was about to explode, but then took a deep breath. “Sheila, I’m so glad you’re home. I didn’t like you being gone. Not one bit,” he said, and hugged her.
She didn’t tell him that she’d almost accepted a job that would require her to travel to New York City once a month. Oh, she wanted that job so bad she could taste it. Working for David’s Designs would be a dream come true.
“What’s on your mind, Steve? What is it that you need to tell me?”
He then filled her in on the postcard.
She watched her husband’s mouth form the words. And though she heard what he was saying, it somehow refused to sink in.
Die, die, die, scrapbook queen.
“Sheila?” he said after a few minutes.
Her chest pressed heavy against her lungs. She gasped for air and fell back on the couch. “Who?” she managed to say.
“We just don’t know,” Steve said. “Bryant sent it to the crime lab in Richmond. I didn’t realize anything was missing. I better call him. Are you okay?”
Sheila nodded. But she wasn’t certain she was. What was happening to her well-constructed and controlled life? She’d done everything that was expected of her and more. She was a good wife and mother, a volunteer in the classroom and community, and she had built a good business based on good products and a solid reputation. She thought she was well liked. But lately she wondered. And it had all begun when she won that scrapbooking contest. She was in the news—everywhere—and some people seemed genuinely pleased for her. Others had developed an attitude with her, like they thought she had gone beyond her upbringing. She had caught the looks and heard the chatter. She tried not to pay attention to it. But now it seemed she would have to. Someone had stolen her butter churn and placed a threatening note in her mailbox. She would have to fill out a police report.
Beyond all that, no matter what Steve believed, she was certain she’d seen the man from the Jezebel walking down Ivy Lane today.