When Leanne awoke the next morning, Aggie’s bed was made, the spread smoothed and tucked, the pillow plumped and in the sham.
Leanne looked at the clock. Eight forty-five A.M. She had not heard Mia and Aggie leave for the coffee shop. She guessed Rachel still slept, since the house was quiet.
Padding barefoot across the hall, she peeked into Christy’s room. As expected, Rachel’s eyes were shut, her breathing soft and even in the sun-dappled room.
Leanne tucked the blanket around her and smiled. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the kid was an angel.
Hope swept through Leanne. Maybe it would be possible to have her and Eddie’s foster parenting credentials reinstated without repeating the long process of approval. That could take months. She didn’t want to wait so long. Already, she cared too much for Rachel to give her up.
But how should she broach the issue with Eddie? Just telling him that she’d been helping Mia hide Rachel would be difficult enough. Would he balk at the idea of parenting a teenager? Even if she explained how much Rachel meant to her? Twenty years ago, they’d talked about fostering a baby, not an older child.
She wished there was more time to talk to the proper authorities and find out the possibility of reinstatement before she brought up the subject. But time was running out. Today was the day she had to come clean with Eddie.
After a final look at the tiny girl snuggled beneath the blankets, Leanne turned away from the bed. She decided to go out front for the paper and start the coffee before waking Rachel.
Before she stepped from the room, she spotted the pink suede boots on the floor beside the closet door. She’d admired those spiked heel, pointy-toed beauties in Jesse’s display window more times than she could count. Leanne tiptoed over, picked them up and fell in love.
Taking the boots with her, Leanne headed for the kitchen where she sat and slipped them on. They didn’t exactly go with the black “Property of Muddy Creek Cowboys” jersey she had worn to bed, which had belonged to one of Mia’s boys. Still, Leanne was crazy about them.
Humming an off-key rendition of “These Boots Are Made For Walking,” Leanne strutted to the front door and unlocked it. She poked her head out. The newspaper boy had actually managed to land the paper close to the porch. She’d have to tell Eddie to give the kid a raise. The plastic-covered morning edition lay just three or four steps down the walkway.
Leanne scanned the neighborhood left to right. No neighbors in sight. Not even nosy Buck Miller from next door. Shivering, she stepped out, ventured another step, then another. Crisp morning air raised goose bumps on her bare arms and legs. The snow, a constant presence on the ground since before Christmas, lay in patches now, adorning the shadiest yards like shrinking meringue on a pie.
Stooping, Leanne grabbed the paper. When she stood again, she noticed the bushes rustle in front of the house across the street. She paused and frowned. Someone hid in the narrow space between the Thurmans’ two tall evergreens.
Pretending not to notice, Leanne turned and walked back to Mia’s porch. At the front door, she swung around in time to see Eddie step from the Thurmans’ bushes and into their yard, a camera in his hand.
Leanne didn’t care that she wore only a jersey that stopped mid-thigh. Or that the temperature was no more than forty-five degrees and she wasn’t wearing a coat. She didn’t care that Buck Miller had ventured out front of his house. Let the whole neighborhood, the entire town, gawk.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she yelled at her husband. Eddie met her at the Thurmans’ curb, and she poked a finger against his chest. “You’re spying on me.”
“Baby, please.” His brow wrinkled. “Give this up and come on home.”
“You took my photo, didn’t you?” She grabbed for the camera.
Eddie held it out of her reach. “This is nuts, Lea. I’ve talked to Cade. You’re in over your head here.” He nodded at the house. “All of you.”
“You’re calling me nuts?”
He backed up a step. “I didn’t say that.”
She poked him again. “I’m not the one hiding in the bushes like some lowlife paparazzi.”
He took another backward step. “I know what you women have up your sleeve. Cade and Roy do, too. Come clean, Lea. Talk to Cade.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
Behind Eddie, the Thurmans’ door opened and Bobby Thurman came out carrying a lunch box. He looked Leanne up and down, his grin spreading slowly.
“Dang it, Lea. Cover yourself up.” Eddie took off his jacket and tugged it around her shoulders. He glared at Bobby and barked, “What are you looking at?”
Across the way, Buck Miller blurted a laugh that turned into a wheezing cough when Eddie glared at him, too.
Leanne jerked off the coat, threw it at Eddie, then turned and wobbled on the spiked heels back toward the house.
“Y’all are busted,” Eddie yelled after her.
She glanced over her shoulder, saw him lift the camera above his head, as if in explanation. “What does that prove?”
“I know those boots came from Jesse’s. And I know who took ’em.”
Leanne’s heart tripped. Pausing, she glanced down at her feet. “Jesse’s not the only place that carries boots like these. I bought them in Amarillo the other day.”
“You could’ve, but you didn’t.”
Leanne stared at her husband. For once, she didn’t know what to say. How could she have been so stupid as to come outside wearing Rachel’s stolen goods? Now Eddie had a photograph. Evidence for Cade.
Would it be enough for the judge to grant another warrant?
As predicted, the weather warmed to an almost springlike low sixties that afternoon. All the snow that had hidden in shaded areas, stubbornly refusing to leave, took off for parts unknown.
Aggie showed up at Mia’s close to noon and, when Leanne left for work, Rachel pleaded to go out to the backyard patio.
“After Leanne’s run-in with Eddie this morning, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to leave the house, sugar.”
“Please? As if anybody will see us in the back yard.” Rachel kicked a toe against the couch. “I’m going totally crazy stuck in here.”
Aggie gave in. The patio sat close to the house, and a six-foot fence encased the yard. She couldn’t imagine that they’d even be noticed by anyone passing down the alley. And fresh air and sunshine would do them both good.
She was right; birdsong and the earthy scent of damp soil bolstered Aggie’s attitude. The temperature was perfect for their light jackets and jeans.
“Okay,” Rachel said, unscrewing the cap on a bottle of nail polish. “Roll up your jeans.”
Aggie pulled her chair around to face Rachel’s, then did as instructed. She stretched out one leg, propped her left foot in Rachel’s lap. “Lord.” Aggie shook her head as Rachel made the first stroke across her big toe. “A sixty-eight-year-old woman with pink glitter on her toenails. This stuff’s made for teenagers.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Duh.”
“So, you agree I look silly?”
Rachel shrugged. “Who cares? Do you like it?”
Aggie studied her foot and smiled. “I do. Just for fun, though.” Yes, it made her feel silly, but good, too. Happy and alive. So what if she was sixty-eight? She had a right to feel all of those things, didn’t she? Now should be one of the best times of her life, and she’d decided to turn it into just that. Roy could either enjoy it with her, or grow moldy sitting alone at home every night, week after week, with his TV remote and constant complaints. She’d leave that decision to him.
This morning at the shop, she’d heard through the Coots that Cade let Roy out of jail late last night. The stubborn ol’ mule still hadn’t called to apologize. Maybe he never would. It wouldn’t surprise her one bit if Roy chose living without her over admitting he’d done anything wrong.
Aggie gave a blissful sigh as a cool breeze tickled her bare toes. “This is pure heaven, Rachel. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Rachel finished Aggie’s left foot then sat back and admired her work. “I’m good. I used to want to be a makeup artist for horror movies. You know, aliens and vampires and stuff? But I could be a pedicure lady, too.”
“You could.” Aggie switched feet. “Or you could go to college.”
Rachel dipped the tiny brush into the polish. “College costs a buttload of money.”
Aggie had about given up on reminding the girl to watch her language. Just like she had with Leanne. “There are all kinds of ways to get money for school. Student loans and scholarships and such.”
“You’ve got to have good grades to get a scholarship. Mine stink.”
“How come? Don’t you study?”
Shrugging, Rachel kept her gaze focused on Aggie’s toes. “School bites.”
“Maybe you just haven’t found your niche.”
“What’s a niche?”
“The thing that holds your interest, that you love doing even if it’s hard work. Your passion, some people call it.”
Rachel glanced up briefly, the brush poised mid-air. “What’s yours?”
“Cooking, I suppose.”
“That’s Mia’s passion, too.”
“It’s something we have in common.”
“What about Leanne?”
Aggie thought about that. “Fashion. The woman loves to dress up. Always has.”
Rachel smiled. “Me, too.”
“Leanne’s other passion is kids. Teaching them.” Aggie cocked her head to the side. “Maybe you should ask her to help you with your studies. Leanne has a knack for making learning fun.”
“Why isn’t she still a teacher if she loves it so much and she’s good at it?”
“Sometimes a person needs a break, even from things they love. Time to re-evaluate and reconsider.”
Her own statement startled her. Was that what was going on with her and Roy? Did she need a break from him in order to figure out what she needed for a change? Without him barging in with his opinion, his needs, and pushing hers aside? She loved Roy. That would never change. But maybe her approach to their relationship needed a makeover, too. Just like her appearance.
“What would I do in college?” Rachel blew on Aggie’s wet toenails. “I mean, just when I think I know what I want to do, something else comes along and I want to do that too, you know? Like, I saw Lord of the Rings and decided to do movie makeup? Then the next week? I thought, duh. Why do Gollum’s makeup when I could be Gollum, instead?”
Aggie blinked over the tops of her glasses at the girl. “Who is Gollum?”
“Don’t you watch movies?”
Aggie shrugged. “Well, whoever she is, you can be whatever you want to be, Rachel. The sky’s the limit.”
Rachel shrugged. “Now that I’m learning to cook? I’m thinking maybe that’s my passion, too. Like you and Mia. I could be a famous chef with my own restaurant.”
“Now, there’s an idea.”
“Only no green foods in my restaurant.” Rachel shuddered. “And no loaves.”
Such a sweet girl, Aggie thought. But odder than all get out, sometimes. And indecisive.
Rachel’s brows drew together. “But, now I totally love sewing, too. Leanne says I’m a natural. We’re alike like that. Maybe I could be a clothes designer.” Her head came up, her eyes widening. Smiling broadly, she lifted the polish brush and pointed it at Aggie. “I know! Leanne and I could be designing partners!”
Aggie smiled, too. “I think you’re on to something.”
Rachel’s hand paused halfway down to Aggie’s last toe. She glanced toward the fence separating Mia’s backyard from Buck Miller’s. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“A noise in that tree next door. It moved, too.” Rachel leaned forward, squinted. “Something’s up there.”
“Probably a squirrel,” Aggie said, then heard a loud sneeze from that direction. She removed her leg from Rachel’s lap, jumped up, moved to the patio’s edge. Her heart lurched when she peered toward the treetop and spotted the cause of all the commotion. “Get inside,” she said quietly to Rachel. “That’s no squirrel.” It was a two-hundred-forty-pound, gray-haired, pot-bellied weasel.
As Rachel escaped through the back door into the house, Aggie hobbled toward the fence, keeping her wet toes pointed skyward. “Roy Dean Cobb, come down here this minute.”
Roy lifted a camera, pointed it at her, snapped.
“Why are you taking my picture? And wearing your hunting cammo? Does Buck Miller know you’re in his tree?”
He snapped again.
Aggie reached the fence. She couldn’t see over it, so she peeped through a knothole, only to find an eyeball staring at her. She screamed and jumped back, ruining her pedicure. “Is that you, Buck?” Moving away from the fence, Aggie held her hand up to shade her eyes and glared at Roy in the tree again. “Get down!”
Behind her, she heard the back door open. Turning, she saw Rachel running toward her.
“No!” Aggie hissed, flapping her hands. “Go back!” She returned her attention to Roy in time to see him lift the camera again.
“Use this,” Rachel said, handing her a sling shot. “I found it in the boys’ room.”
Aggie’s hand shook, half from nerves, half from fury, as she took the slingshot from Rachel then reached down into the dead grass for a pebble. She’d show that man a thing or two. How dare he spy on her? Placing the pebble into the leather sling, she looked up at her husband, closed one eye, and aimed. She took a deep breath. Her hand steadied.
“Now, Aggie girl. You wouldn’t shoot me,” Roy called down. Then, in a small voice, “Would you?” When she didn’t answer or lower the slingshot, he gave a nervous laugh. “You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, woman.”
“Maybe not, but I bet I can hit the broad side of you. My big brothers taught me a few things when we were kids.”
The tree branches trembled as Roy scrambled to get down. Turning his back to her, he wrapped his arms and legs around the trunk and clung like ivy around a lamppost.
Aggie turned loose. The pebble hit Roy sqaure in the butt.
He cried out, let go, and crashed to the ground.
“Roy!” Aggie screamed. Dropping the slingshot, she ran to the fence and climbed up on the lower support bar. “Oh Lord, sugar, are you hurt?”
Roy lay on the ground, the camera and Buck Miller beside him. He pushed up on one elbow, his face twisted and turning from bright red to purple. “I’m coming over there,” he roared. Rolling to his hands and knees, he started crawling toward the fence.
Aggie jumped down. She turned and started running. “Oh, no, you’re not.”
“Oh, yes I am.”
Ahead of her, Rachel slipped inside the back door. “You’re not invited,” she yelled.
Darting into the house behind Rachel, Aggie slammed the door and turned the lock.
Seconds later, the pounding started. “Enough is enough, woman!” Roy boomed.
“Go away. You’re trespassing.” Aggie tried to catch her breath.
“I got pictures of that girl paintin’ your toes, Aggie.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Aggie covered her ears and said a silent prayer that the camera had broken when Roy fell from the tree.