Chapter Twelve
Simon dragged Apricot straight to the front of the church. Right in the middle of a hymn. Which was just . . . awesome. That was exactly what she’d wanted on a morning when she was supposed to be tucked into bed, sleeping the day away—to be marched up an aisle in front of a hundred or more total strangers. Good times!
Now she was sitting smack-dab between the twins, Daisy shooting daggers at her over Rori’s head. Surprising, since Jet was just across the aisle, a tiny gray-haired woman at his side. If Daisy really thought he was the one who’d robbed her, shouldn’t he be the one getting the death glare?
Apparently not, because as the congregation stood for a final hymn, Daisy tugged Rori to her side, her scowl deepening.
I’m not contagious, Apricot wanted to whisper, but everyone was singing a cheery song about being part of God’s family, and she didn’t think a catfight would fit well in the venue.
The song ended, and she thought they were done. She hoped they were done, because the way Daisy was looking, she might just march to the front of the church and accuse Apricot of robbing her.
Someone shuffled past the pew, and Daisy’s gaze shifted.
Thank God!
Apricot had probably been three seconds from seeing lasers shooting from the woman’s eyes!
A young boy walked to the piano as the last strains of the song drifted away. Small and blond, his shoulders slightly stooped, he moved like an old man—as if every step was a chore and a challenge. Apricot thought he might be nine or ten, but he raised his head as he approached the piano, and his face looked more mature than that, his cheekbones sharp, his jawline well-defined. He had ice-blue eyes that were just a little vague, and a sweet, befuddled expression that made Apricot’s heart ache.
Evie tugged at Apricot’s hand.
“That’s Alex,” she whispered loudly.
“Shhhh!” Daisy hissed, holding a finger to her lips, her eyes flashing dark fire. No doubt, she thought her niece was being tainted by Apricot.
“He plays piano,” Evie continued as if her aunt hadn’t just shushed her so loudly she’d created her own breeze with the force of her breath.
Simon bent and whispered something into Evie’s ear.
Whatever he said worked.
Evie crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, but she kept her mouth shut. Somehow everyone in the congregation seemed to understand that the boy’s appearance at the front of the church meant they should sit.
They sat as one accord, the swish of clothes and shoes and butts hitting wood surprisingly loud and just a little jarring. Had Apricot known the correct signal, she’d have probably sat with everyone else. Instead, she was a heartbeat behind the throng, dropping down hastily and nearly squishing Evie in the process.
Only it wasn’t Evie.
Somehow, Simon had pulled a sleight of hand. Sleight of lap?
Whatever the case, he was sitting beside her, and the truculent eight-year-old he’d shushed was sitting on his other side.
“Sorry,” she murmured as she tried to scoot away. There wasn’t really anywhere to go. Rori was pressed up tight against her other side, and Daisy was back to shooting daggers.
“Shhhh,” he murmured in her ear. “Just listen. You’re going to love this.”
She didn’t know what she was going to love, but she decided it might just be his hand that had suddenly found its way to hers, or maybe it was the way their fingers were woven together.
She was so distracted by his hand, his warm thigh pressed against her, his soft smile, that she didn’t realize Alex had taken a seat on the piano bench until he started playing.
Music filled the church. Not the quick, lively sound of the last song. Not the quiet strains of a recessional. This was a light and easy tune. Like spring rain falling on dry ground or snowflakes dancing around a streetlight. It seemed to seep right into Apricot’s soul and she couldn’t help smiling in response to it.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Simon whispered in her ear.
She shivered, because it was pretty and he was nearly perfect. She could have sat there with him, listening to the music, sunlight streaming through beautiful stained glass windows, all day and been perfectly content to do it.
She let the music and the warmth of Simon’s hand carry her away from the anger and anxiety that had been niggling at her gut since she’d left LA.
Eventually, the last strains of the music faded away and the sanctuary fell silent. Not a sound. Not a shift of impatient congregants wondering when they were going to be dismissed. No gathering of papers or Bibles or purses. Just . . . silence.
Alex stood slowly. He shuffled back down the aisle, took a seat somewhere behind Apricot. She would have glanced back to see where, but as she turned her head, she met Daisy’s gaze.
She smiled.
Daisy scowled.
Whatever spell the congregation had been under lifted, and the kind-looking pastor dismissed everyone.
Daisy jumped up and marched out, her nose so high in the air, Apricot thought she might trip on her way through the vestibule and fall on her face.
“Obviously,” Apricot said to no one in particular, “I am not her favorite person.”
“Who?” Simon tugged her to her feet and took the girls’ hands. “Daisy? No one is her favorite person. Except for the girls. She loves them to pieces.”
“And you,” Apricot pointed out, because it was dang obvious that Daisy had a massive crush on her brother-in-law.
“Me?” He laughed, leading the way through the throng of people who were gathered in the aisle.
“Yes, you.”
Jet was just up ahead, moving as quickly as he could. His grandmother wasn’t in as much of a hurry. She stopped to talk to a friend, and he stood with his head down, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, not making eye contact with anyone. Not even Apricot. She moved toward him, but Simon grabbed her hand and pulled her back.
“Leave him alone, Apricot.”
“He looks miserable.”
“He looks like a young man who can take care of himself. You go running to the rescue, and you’re going to embarrass him.”
“But—”
“Trust me on this,” he said as they stepped outside. “He doesn’t need you to bail him out.”
They stepped outside, the girls charging ahead and joining a group of kids who were chasing each other around the churchyard.
“I wasn’t going to bail him out. I was just going to chat with him.”
“So that people know he’s got allies?”
“Something like that,” she admitted.
“Not necessary. People around here like Jet. They’re not going to convict him without a fair trial. They’ll give things a few days. See what comes of the investigation.”
“Most of them.”
“The ones who won’t, don’t matter.” Simon stopped at the edge of the yard, his gaze focused on the girls. “You’ve got me worried, Apricot. I’m not going to lie.”
“About?” She moved closer, because the sun was bright and the kids were laughing and it just felt . . . good to be next to him.
“Daisy.”
“What’s to worry about?”
“It never occurred to me that she might . . .” He shook his head.
“Be madly in love with you?” she suggested.
He frowned. “She’s not in love with me. She’s just—”
“Infatuated? Enamored? Smitten? Besotted?”
He laughed. “Enough. I get it. You have a great vocabulary.”
“And keen insight into people.” Most people anyway. She’d kind of missed the boat with Lionel. Or maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she just hadn’t wanted to admit the truth to herself.
“Well, your insight is off on this one. Daisy is Daisy. She’s a little nuts, but she means well. She’s just trying to help out since Megan isn’t around to mother the girls. That doesn’t mean she’s smitten with me.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t.” Apricot agreed because . . . what else could she do? Daisy, Simon, and the girls were family. They had something that worked for them, and it wasn’t her business to start mixing things up. On the other hand, Simon was wrong.
Daisy was smitten.
Worse, she was desperate to get a ring on her finger.
She probably didn’t care all that much who put it there.
Simon was convenient. Add to that his natural kindness, his charm, his good looks, and you had a recipe for an infatuation so deep Daisy was probably convinced it was the love of a lifetime. She’d probably written him into her diary as her soul mate on the same page where she’d written her first name followed by his last name dozens of times. With little hearts and flowers and swirls all around them.
“Seriously, Apricot. She’s not,” Simon murmured, and she didn’t think he believed a word he was saying.
“Okay,” she responded.
That one word said a million things that Simon didn’t want to hear.
She wasn’t convinced.
She really believed that Daisy had her eyes on Simon.
She was amused by the whole thing.
Simon was not.
Daisy was nice in a high-strung, overpowering sort of way. He loved her like a sister, and he didn’t want to hurt her. But there was no way in hell he was interested in her, and he was absolutely sure he’d never given her the idea that he was.
If she hadn’t been loping across the churchyard, heading straight for him, he’d have told Apricot that.
“Speak of the devil,” Apricot murmured, an impish grin making her look young and fresh and unbelievably kissable. If they hadn’t been standing in the churchyard, dozens of people all around, he might have tugged her into his arms, nibbled his way up her throat, found his way to those beautiful lips.
“Simon!” Daisy shrieked, her voice sharp.
Everyone who’d been happily talking in the churchyard went silent.
Apricot’s grin broadened, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
He was not amused.
“What is it, Daisy?” He kept his tone neutral. Barely. Lately Daisy had been getting under his skin, taking up a little too much of his energy.
“Did you see who was here?” She grabbed his arm, pulling him around so that he was looking directly at the church door. The pastor and his wife were there, chatting with Jet and his grandmother. Jet shifted uncomfortably, his dress shirt a little short in the sleeves, his dark slacks about two sizes too big.
“There were a lot of people at service today.” He was purposely obtuse. Sometimes, with Daisy, it was best to feign ignorance.
“You know who I’m talking about,” she whispered. “Jet. Aren’t you going to say something to him?”
“He’s already been questioned.”
“Why hasn’t he been arrested?” she demanded, her voice getting a little louder and a little higher with each word.
“Because Cade and I didn’t find any evidence to support doing it.”
“Evidence? I told you he’s the one who did it. Isn’t that enough?” She blinked rapidly. A sure sign she was about to cry.
“I’m afraid it’s not, Daisy. Evidence is what convicts someone. Until we have it—”
“You think I’m lying, don’t you?” she said loudly.
“Why would I?” he volleyed back.
The churchyard had gone quiet, people grouped around trying really hard to pretend they weren’t listening to the conversation. Jet had his grandmother’s arm and was trying to hurry her down the stairs. Problem was, there wasn’t a whole lot of hurrying a woman Dorothy’s age could do.
Simon hoped to God Daisy wouldn’t decide to go over and confront the two.
“If you didn’t, you’d have already arrested him.” She swallowed hard, her eyes skittering away. “He’d be in jail, and I’d be safe.”
“You are safe.”
“I don’t feel safe.” Her lower lip trembled, and he felt just sorry enough for her to pat her shoulder.
“You are. Cade and I aren’t going to let anything happen to you. Besides, you weren’t injured—”
“Not injured!” she cried. “What do you call this?!” She lifted the hem of her long jean skirt to reveal three small brightly colored Band-Aids. One on her knee. Two on her shin. If he remembered correctly, she had a couple of tiny little scratches there.
Apricot coughed, and he met her eyes.
She was fighting the urge to laugh.
Fighting it desperately, her lips twitching, her chest heaving.
“Don’t,” he cautioned, because if she laughed, Daisy would cry, and he needed that like he needed a hole drilled through his head.
“Don’t what?” Daisy demanded. “Show my legs on church property? This isn’t the Dark Ages, Simon. Women wear all kinds of revealing clothes. Even to church. I try to be modest, but not everyone feels it’s necessary.” Her gaze settled on Apricot, dropping to the neckline of her sundress.
It wasn’t at all revealing.
But now that Daisy had called his attention to it, the creamy swell of skin peeking out from light blue fabric was one of the sexiest things Simon had ever seen.
“You don’t think my dress is appropriate?” Apricot asked, smoothing her skirt.
“I never said that.”
“You seemed to be implying it, but I might just be misreading you. You’ve been through a lot, and your aura may be a little off because of it.”
“Things have been tough,” Daisy conceded. “I guess you’ve been too busy doing other things to see how much this has affected me, Simon.” She turned her gaze back on him. “I’m just exhausted. I didn’t even sleep last night, I was so scared.”
Not true. She’d been snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Simon had closed her door to try to mute the sound.
He kept his gentlemanly manners his parents had instilled in him and didn’t mention it.
“You need a nap,” he suggested. “Why don’t you go on home and rest?”
“I’m making meat loaf for the girls this afternoon. I promised I would while we were on the way to church this morning.” She was still eyeing Apricot, who was eyeing her right back. The difference was, Apricot looked pleasant, a smile curving her lips. Daisy’s lips were pressed tight, her eyes hot with irritation.
“There’s no need to make me and the girls a meal, Daisy. We can manage just fine on sandwiches.”
“I always cook on Sunday.”
True. And he always tried to get her to not cook. “You haven’t always been recovering from a trauma.”
“I need to keep my mind off things. Cooking will help.”
“There are probably better ways to get your mind off things. You could go out with a couple of your friends. Maybe see a movie or go to the diner,” he suggested.
“You don’t want me around!” she accused.
His blood pressure was rising, and he was about out of patience, but he did everything in his power to keep it from showing when he answered. “Me saying you need to relax and get your mind off things, doesn’t mean—”
“Can it!” she snapped. “You just want to spend more time with her!” She jabbed a finger toward Apricot. “And that’s just fine. You just go ahead and do what you need to do. I’ll be here when she’s moved on to the next man on the list!”
She stomped away.
Apricot let out a soft, low whistle. “Sorry about that, Simon. I didn’t mean to cause trouble in your family.”
“You didn’t. Her ex-boyfriend did. Ever since he ran off with someone else, she’s been a little nuts.” Although, truth be told, Daisy had been a little nuts before Dennis left. She’d just had someone else to focus the crazy on.
“She’s heading for thirty, isn’t she? She’s probably hearing her biological clock ticking away.”
“You don’t need to make excuses for her. I’m not going to boot her out of the family because she’s a little more high-strung than usual.”
“A little, huh?”
“A lot, but I’m hoping she’ll get over it and things will calm down a little.”
“How long have you been hoping that?”
“Six months.”
She laughed, her cheeks pink, her hair shining in the sunlight.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” The words slipped out, and Apricot’s laughter died away.
“I’m not,” she said, and he knew it wasn’t false modesty. Knew she wasn’t fishing for compliments or looking to be reassured.
And, God! That made her even more gorgeous.
“There is nothing more beautiful than a woman’s laughter,” he responded lightly. “And nothing more attractive than someone who is comfortable in her own skin.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow!”
“What?”
“Just . . . wow. Your breed of men supposedly died out decades ago. But there you are. In the flesh. Alive and well.”
That made him smile. “I didn’t realize there were breeds of men.”
“Of course there are. Playboy, workaholic, little boy, momma’s boy—”
“Good old boy?” he offered.
“That too, but I’ve never dated one.”
“You’ve dated all the others?”
“Lionel was all the others. But I’ve also dated the pessimist, the narcissist, the randy dog.”
He laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“Only a little.”
“So, what kind of breed am I?”
“You?” She studied him for a moment. “That’s easy. You’re—”
A scream rent the air, the shrill sound making the hair on Simon’s arms stand on end. Another scream and another, and Daisy came tearing across the parking lot, her jean skirt tangling with her legs as she sprinted back toward the church. She fell, righted herself, and just kept coming.
He ran toward her, a throng of people rushing with him.
Everyone was talking at once, the murmur of the crowd making it impossible for Simon to hear what Daisy was saying. And she was saying something. Her mouth was moving, her eyes wild.
“What is it?” He took her arm, scanned the parking lot, expecting to see someone fleeing the area.
“My car. Someone vandalized my car!” she cried, tears pouring down her face.
“Did you see who it was?”
“Of course, I didn’t! I was in church!” she wailed.
“There, there, dear.” Ida Cunningham appeared at her side and offered her the kind of motherly embrace that Simon couldn’t have managed.
Daisy buried her face in poor Ida’s shoulder and cried hysterically.
“Could someone get her some water?” Ida asked, and a group of women rushed back into the church. “Come on, let’s sit you down on the steps while Simon checks on your car.”
Ida led her to the church stairs, and Daisy plopped down like her legs couldn’t hold her. The congregation moved in, and Simon could barely see her sitting there.
The twins had somehow made their way into Apricot’s arms.
“I’ve got them,” she mouthed.
And he knew she did.
As long as it took him to check out Daisy’s car, she’d be there with the girls, distracting them from the hysterical sobs that were being wrenched from their aunt’s throat.
There was something really nice about that.
He didn’t mind acknowledging it.
It took him a couple of minutes to find Daisy’s car. She’d parked at the far end of the lot, to the side of the church. A few other cars were there.
He walked around the vehicle, realized the front tires had been slashed, snapped a couple of photos with his camera phone, and texted Cade for backup. Simon wasn’t on duty, but he could at least secure the scene while he waited.
There was no sign of any other vandalism. No eggs. No scrawled words. Just the tires.
“Simon!” Jethro Fisher hurried toward him. Pastor of Apple Valley Community Church, he had a reputation for being kind and generous. As far as Simon knew, no one in town had a bad word to say about him or his wife, Natalie.
“Sorry, Pastor. This is a crime scene. You’re going to have to stay back.”
Jethro stopped a dozen feet away. “Looks like those tires are good and flat. Anything I can do to help?”
“Just keep everyone out of the parking lot until Cade gets here. He might want to interview people, so if you wouldn’t mind getting the names of people who are here, that would help.”
“No problem.” Jethro didn’t leave. Just stood watching as Simon peered under the car.
“If you want to do that now, that would be great,” Simon suggested, and Jethro smiled.
“Actually, it’s already being done. My wife loves a good whodunit story. She thought it would be a good idea.”
“Natalie is a smart lady,” Simon responded absently.
Nothing under the car. Nothing under the cars to either side. Too bad.
“Yes. She is,” Jethro responded, and there was something in his voice that made Simon look away from the tamped-down grass near the curb.
“Everything okay, Pastor?” Not that it was his business, but Natalie and Jethro had always been good to the girls. They’d even babysat on a few nights when Daisy hadn’t been available. If they were in trouble, he’d do what he could to help.
“Sure. Of course,” Jethro responded a little too quickly. “I’d better go help my better half. If you need anything, just holler.”
He hurried away, his lanky frame nearly skeletal beneath his worn suit. Had he lost weight? Was he having health issues? Marital problems?
The last seemed improbable. Everyone in town knew how deeply he loved his wife.
Simon’s cell phone buzzed, and he glanced at an incoming text, expecting it to be from Cade. Instead it was an unknown number, the words making him smile. Daddy, can Apracot take us to the park. Daisy is screeming so loud our ears hurt and Rori is crying. This is Apracots phon.
He typed a yes and sent the text, tucked his phone back in his pocket and headed into the cemetery. He was looking for footprints pressed into the grass or some other sign that someone had run through the area. He wove his way through old headstones and around new ones, the sun warm and bright, the day alive with the subtle noises of small-town life.
Far below, Riley Pond shimmered in the afternoon light.
It was a beautiful town with beautiful people in it, but someone had stolen Daisy’s wallet and someone had slashed her tires. Since Jet had been sitting in plain sight of the entire congregation of Apple Valley Community Church, Simon thought it was safe to say he wasn’t the perpetrator.
He turned back toward the church, saw Cade’s patrol car pulling into the parking lot.
He was a few steps from the lot when he spotted something glinting in the sunlight.
A knife?
He took a couple steps closer.
Yep. A knife.
It looked like something that could have been used to slash a couple of tires.
He left it where it was and motioned for Cade to come over.