Chapter Twenty

Meredith broke a path in the drifts between the trailer and the front door to the house and shed. That night, the depths grew alarmingly and Meredith shoveled and stomped down the path once again. Her fear was Atticus or Jamie would trudge off the path and fall through into a soft spot. To prevent this, she spent time packing down the sides of the trail into solid walls, now too high for her children to easily scale.

The rumble of the snow plow made her turn and wave. Without the road and driveway plowed, they’d be stuck for sure. She’d been meaning to ask someone why her road was plowed in such a strange serpentine manner, zig-zagged from her driveway to the main highway. The only reason she could fathom was it was meant to slow traffic to avoid accidents.

Deli boy. Her eyes widened as she saw him in the driver’s seat, frowning as he steered one direction and then the other, weaving the plow toward her. The crazy plowing pattern wasn’t a favor, it was a curse.

“Hey!” she shouted out once, and then realized he wouldn’t be able to hear her over the powerful engine. Even if he could, it was unlikely anything would change. Not even anticipation of a baby bunny softened his evil heart.

Deli boy kept his gaze on the road and the plow’s controls, even as Meredith stood in her doorway. He pushed snow out of her driveway and turned the machine around and back down the serpentine path.

Meredith stomped back into the trailer to get Jamie off to school and herself to work.

****

The hardware store was quiet. A rare customer came in to buy snow shovels and ice melt and, most days, the mailman was her only visitor. The official start of winter was still a couple of weeks away, but no one spoke of this as autumn any longer. An Idaho winter ate at the edges of autumn and spring, lengthening its intemperate season by at least another month on each end. Weather slowed deliveries and the two-lane highway running past Hay City saw few vehicles pass by. She felt guilty at taking a paycheck for doing so much nothing.

Boots stamping at the entry of the hardware store startled Meredith from her spot on the floor, where she helped Atticus stack blocks. A man stood at the door, pants tucked into heavy work boots and a cap covering his ears. “Hey, where do you want it?”

She scrambled to her feet. Crusty didn’t tell her to expect anything or anyone. This was the most excitement there’d been at the hardware store in weeks. Through the open door behind the man, she could see an unmarked delivery truck idling in the parking lot. “What is it?”

“Hell if I know. Boxes. Twenty-five of them.” He gave the store a critical eye. “They ain’t gonna fit.”

Meredith hesitated only for a moment. The hardware store was her responsibility. It wasn’t as though her boss possessed a system for arranging the store anyway. Items were shoved into every corner and up to the ceiling. “Just carry them all in; we’ll find a place for them.”

He shrugged and the door banged close. Twenty-five boxes full of things to shelve sounded like heaven after months of little to do except sit and stare at the cluttered aisles. Crusty left her in charge, calling earlier and, with glee in his tone, told her he’d slept in and would arrive late. In the background, Honey voice hummed a tune.

The door thumped open and the deliveryman was back, wheeling a dolly piled high with boxes. Meredith rushed forward and pointed down one aisle. “Um, over there. At the back.”

The boxes, dented in places, torn in others, appeared as though they’d been used for other products in several previous shipments. More boxes followed. They filled the back of the store, a couple containers small as a shoebox, and a half dozen in old refrigerator boxes. A trail of wet footprints and dolly tracks led through the store, from the door down the aisles.

The last box, a wooden crate, was the biggest of all and accompanied into the store with grunts and cursing. The oversized crate was scooted off the dolly by the door with a scowl. Breathing heavily, the man shoved a clipboard in Meredith’s face. “Sign here.”

Her hand trembled as she signed, nervous now she’d allowed the motley assortment into Crusty’s domain, turning his hardware store into a used-goods warehouse. The deliveryman strode toward the exit. “What’s in all these?” she called toward him.

He didn’t turn. “You ordered them, lady.” The door slammed behind him.

Meredith gazed dejectedly at the old boxes, sure now there could be nothing exciting inside. It struck her the delivery could have been meant for someone else, for how could the contents possibly fit inside the store? What if she’d accepted delivery of old clothes and broken TVs headed for a thrift shop? She wished now she’d opened a couple while the truck was still there.

Hands on hips, she made the decision to open a box or two. “There’s only one way to find out,” she muttered. Best case, she could start shelving some of the goods. Worst case, she could reseal the boxes and wait for her boss to arrive.

Armed with a box cutter, she started with the smallest box, surprisingly heavy for its size. Nested inside was cabinet hardware, beautiful brushed nickel handles and knobs. It was a strange order to make in the middle of winter, dragging a truck out along dangerous roads to a lonely outpost. Meredith sliced the box cutter down the side of one refrigerator box and nearly choked. The box was full of insulation, the type sandwiched between walls of houses and in attics, secured in tight rolls of plastic wrap. The items appeared to be a special order for someone working on their house, a project for the coming icy months. Either that or Crusty was stocking up early for a spring sale.

She went next to the enormous crate left by the door, first testing its substantial weight, and then tried to peek between the wooden slats. Before she could stop herself, Meredith grabbed a hammer in her hands and was tugging at one of the slats.

“Holy cow, he’s done it now.”

The hardware store was a jumble of goods, but this had to be a first. Inside the box was a full-sized jetted bathtub. There was no way a bathtub was going to fit in one of the hardware store’s aisles, let alone on one of the shelves. Perhaps the tub would sit where it was by the door as a showcase item, a conversation piece for customers as they entered.

“Mama.” Atticus stood at her side. “Ah-ble.”

Meredith set the hammer on top of the box and picked up her toddler. “Ready for some apples? Please?”

“Pease.”

She hugged him and returned to the counter where a snack bag was packed with apple slices, juice, and peanut butter sandwiches. A thud on the other side of the wall made her aware of Crusty’s arrival in the bar, finally roused from Honey’s cozy home. Apples and juice in hand, she settled Atticus in the playpen to enjoy his snack.

Meredith never ventured into the bar, having an aversion to drink and drinking. Having grown up with an alcoholic mother, she worried about having the propensity to follow a similar fate. It was easier to stay away and never find out. The morning’s strange shipment of goods was so unusual, however, she overcame her qualms and opened the connecting door into the bar and peered inside.

“Happy days are here again,” her boss burst out upon seeing her. “Oh, happy, happy days.”

Meredith stepped into the darkened room. A long wooden bar dominated the space, its top smooth and worn by the hands of its many customers. Sweet and malty odors were mixed with stale cigarettes. Peanut shells littered corners of the floor, speaking to Crusty’s usual style of housekeeping.

“Ever have a day when everything goes right?” He waved her closer to the bar where he was putting glasses away. “When even your toes are sitting up and taking notice?”

Meredith nodded even though she didn’t know what he was talking about. It was a good time to let him know about the shipment; if the delivery was a mistake, her boss was in too good a mood to fire her.

“I’m thinking about getting one of those rabbits of Jamie’s,” he said as he gazed around the room. “Kind of a mascot sort of thing. Let him roam around the bar, live here full time. I hear they can be house-trained, mostly.”

She doubted this was a good idea, a rabbit hopping below unsteady feet, likely being fed everything from beef jerky to pork rinds. This was her boss, though, and the rabbits were growing fast. It meant three down, two to go. Changing the subject, she said, “Your beard’s nice today.”

He stroked the gray hair covering his neck and dipping to mid-chest. “Honey gave me a trim last night. I’ll tell you what, cutting a few hairs didn’t diminish this grizzled Samson’s powers.”

“Delivery,” Meredith sputtered, not wanting to hear any more along those lines. “Big delivery next store.”

“Ah.” he said. “Aha. He showed up this morning, did he?” Crusty reddened then just as quick recovered. “Best take a look.” He was at the hardware store door in an instant, his long legs covering the distance in a few long strides, ponytail swishing behind. “Hey captain,” he greeted Atticus, and gave a low whistle as he took in the multitude of boxes crowding the store. “Yup. Yessiree. Quite a sight.”

“There’s a bathtub in the one by the door,” Meredith offered, hoping he’d explain. “I took a peek.” She added, joking, “It’s like you ordered a whole house.”

Crusty went still. There was no way, of course, he’d ordered an entire house. No one would place such an order through a small hardware store. No one would pack items in used refrigerator boxes and ship them through the snow. The timing was striking. Only one person was talking about building a house in this small town.

“Crusty?” Her voice hardened. “Where’d all this come from? Who’s it for?”

When he fidgeted, her suspicion was confirmed. “No,” she said. “Send the stuff back.”

He looked miserable but she felt no guilt at ruining his perfect day. He was head over heels with the wrong woman; a conniving, meddling woman who wanted to build her a new house. She weighed the possibility the man knew the depths of Honey’s character, the dark side of the sweet, convivial woman. Perhaps, though, her role in Brian’s murder was innocent, a conversation rippling into something harsher than was meant to be.

He cleared his throat. “I can’t. Anyway, it’s not returnable.”

“Crusty.” Her voice rose and Atticus dropped his juice container in alarm. “I can’t pay for this. Not even part of it. Why doesn’t anyone listen?”

Atticus stood in the playpen, his face scrunched up in worry and ready to cry. “Mama.”

Her boss spoke in a rush. “You don’t need to think about all that. Honey’s in charge and no one says no to her. It won’t cost you a dime. I know people who know people who come across things. They owed me a favor.”

Meredith studied the stained and battered boxes in suspicion. Her on-again, off-again friend had some explaining to do, as always. Curtis too, for he was certainly involved. And now Crusty was in on this crazy plan as well, mixing her up in some nefarious dealings with people who “come across things.”

His tone was earnest, begging. “You have to let her do this.”

“No. I don’t.”

“It’s okay to let people help you, Meredith. Sometimes it’s a favor to them.” Her boss’s eyes watered; he blinked twice and cleared his throat. “Makes them feel useful.”

She didn’t know what to say. It never occurred to her that in the act of accepting help from others she’d be doing them a favor in return. “This is an entire house,” she whispered. “No one does this.”

His face lit up, eyes twinkling. “It’s why this is so exciting. No one ever gets a chance to do something like this. You’ve gotten the whole town talking; hell, the whole county. Neighbors who haven’t spoken to each other in years are forming work crews and joining design committees. We haven’t had this much excitement since an avalanche slid down the eastern mountain in ’02, wiped out Bailey’s onion shed and two prize bulls. Hay City could use this, Merry.”

Crusty lifted his wild shaggy eyebrows and waited for her response. Even Atticus was quiet, gazing up into her face. In the preceding six months, she’d focused on people who didn’t like her. How had she passed over all the people who were talking about doing a house-wrecking and house-raising for her in the spring? How had she not seen the welcoming smiles and waves of those willing to accept a stranger in their community? Meredith was so used to the harsh circumstances of her life, the positives faded into the background.

Sounds just like me, she thought.

“Anyway,” he continued, “it’s not the whole house. Just a few odds and ends.”

“Why does Honey do so much for me?” Meredith asked. “I don’t understand.”

He gave a soft chuckle and then turned serious. “She sees herself in you. No one helped her when she needed help the most. This community turned a blind eye during her first marriage, even while her husband was beating her half to death. Honey’s a survivor and so are you. You’re both tough women; pretty similar, actually.”

This was an alarming idea, that she was like Honey. There were wonderful parts to her friend. She was warm, neighborly, and capable. There were also some unpleasant attributes: meddling and gossipy for a start. Meredith didn’t want to consider she was a mini-Honey in the making.

“Don’t I have any say in this?” There was a hint of concession in her tone, surprising even to herself. It was impossible to accept so much. Impossible.

Crusty gave her an appraising look. “Sometimes you have to make a choice whether you’re part of a place or not. Some people never get the option. Choice is the gift, not the house. Don’t take this for granted.”

Meredith regarded the containers, an avalanche of ill-gotten gains, in the light of ambiguity in her life. Love and hate, friendship and conflict; even villainy and virtue, all rolled up together. Could she choose?

****

Puzzles, books, games, and budgeting consumed the evening as a fresh storm rocked the small trailer, with still no news from Curtis for the second straight day. Her irritation with him grew. A hammering at the door startled her so bad the breath caught in her throat.

Curtis stood at the door, the frigid wind blowing in from behind him and filling the trailer with icy daggers. “I was ordered to pick you up and take you to Honey’s for cheese pie.”

“Come in. Hurry.” Meredith opened the door wider and he stepped inside the trailer and glanced around. At the dining table, Jamie worked a puzzle of the United States. Atticus sat on his bunk with a book and a bag of fish shaped crackers.

“Hi, Sheriff,” Jamie said without looking up. “I’m busy.”

“I see. Where’s Idaho?”

Jamie jabbed her finger down in an Idaho-shaped gap. “Somebody took it. But it’d go right here.”

“Cheese pie?” Meredith asked. He was freshly shaven and smelled of soap and mint, a nick on his throat still covered with a dab of tissue. She bit her lip, torn between crying “Tell me what’s going on,” and being angry he hadn’t called her. She wanted to touch his face, his arms, his chest. She wondered if he’d missed her as much.

He faced her, his expression neutral. “Goat cheese pie. That’s what Honey said. I’m supposed to get you over there.”

“Curtis,” she started. “I tried calling you.”

“I’ve been tied up with the medical examiner and the doctor and taking calls from most of Twin Lakes’ population,” he said with a grimace. “Yesterday, they tried to get the backhoe down the mountain and it slid over the edge. Almost flipped over the fellow hauling it, as well. The guy’s uncle is a state senator, who called me to ask whose stupid idea it was to haul heavy equipment into back country this time of year.”

Meredith’s mouth rounded into an “oh,” and Jamie stared as his voice grew tenser. Atticus toddled over to Curtis and hugged his leg. He glanced down and patted the boy's head. A rabbit darted past their feet and Meredith scrambled to grab it. She caught the critter by a hind leg and picked it up. “This guy’s been on the run since last night.” She set it in the cage and latched the door. “Jamie keeps letting them out.”

“They don’t want to be in a cage,” her daughter complained.

Curtis raised his eyebrows at her. “Meredith? I would have called, but it’s been crazy. And Brooke…”

She darted him a warning glance. Brooke was the school principal and, whatever was happening, she couldn’t discuss the woman in front of her daughter. “Catch me up later,” she said quickly and grabbed for their coats, deciding going was easier than staying. “Goat cheese pie is from goat’s milk, not from the goat. Let’s bundle up and get going.”

“I’m not eating a cheese goat,” Jamie protested.

“No.” Atticus said, sounding happy to add his opinion. “No go.”

“Sometimes we have to do things…” Meredith started, and her daughter finished the sentence along with her, “we don’t want to do.”

She glanced around her trailer, so snug and warm, and didn’t want to leave. The shortened days made her want to do nothing except curl up with a cup of tea and a big book, long enough to last the winter. But somehow Honey, the mastermind of Brian’s murder and the upcoming destruction of her house, always got her way.

If Honey wanted them to eat goat cheese pie in a blizzard, they’d eat goat cheese pie. It gave her an opportunity to snatch a moment away from her kids, so she could hear what was happening in Twin Lakes.

****

Crusty was in the kitchen, an apron tied around his waist, the ties barely reaching around the back. He did a little dance and curtsy when they entered, making Jamie laugh and Meredith crack a smile despite herself. Curtis gave him a short nod and headed to the living room to warm his hands by the fire.

Honey appeared, wearing a matching apron. “People do cozy a house up. Isn’t this nice, having everyone together?”

No one answered as a gusting wind blew ice pellets against the house, rattling the windows. Honey beckoned them to sit near the fire. Meredith glanced at her and quickly averted her gaze. “Crusty and I’ll serve up the pie. You just sit and be comfy.”

Jamie glanced at the door, the edges of her mouth turning down. “Honey, is the wind going to blow your house down?”

Honey gave her lively laugh. “It wouldn’t dare,” she said. “The wind can huff and puff all it wants.”

Curtis touched Meredith’s elbow and nodded toward the couch by the fireplace. She settled in next to him, thankful to have him at her side. Jamie and Atticus sat cross-legged on the floor near the fireplace.

“Accidental or murder?” Meredith mumbled out of one side of her mouth toward Curtis.

He gave a small shake of his head as Crusty carried in the plates, wedges of something white on top. Meredith accepted hers with trepidation and didn’t mind waiting for others to be served. She met Curtis’s eye and they smiled in mutual understanding, knowing there was no choice but to eat everything on their plates, down to the last crumb. His gaze held hers for a moment and Meredith’s heart thudded.

Honey’s tone was cheerful. “You’re all my guinea pigs. I added a little extra sugar to counter the tang of goat, and I think it works fine.”

Crusty stared at his plate with something akin to alarm. He sat down, took a deep breath, and swallowed his pie in two leviathan bites. He nodded at the rest of them to do the same. “Delicious. I’ll take another piece.” Crusty returned to the kitchen for seconds before anyone else took a single bite.

Honey beamed and her gaze swept the room, triumphant.

Jamie looked up at her with a solemn expression. “I don’t like cheese pie.”

Honey set a plate down in front of the girl, who glared at the white wedge of pie. “You’ve never tasted mine. Take a bite.”

Meredith took a tentative bite, nibbling at the cheesy white substance. “It’s cheesecake,” she said.

Honey laughed. “I guess you could call it that. Cheesecake, cheese pie—all the same.”

“It’s yummy.” Meredith dug in, and with that pronouncement, Curtis and Jamie started in on their slices too, finishing them quickly. Only Atticus refused his pie, thrusting the fork away each time Jamie tried to give him a bite. The five of them polished off the entire pie.

****

Meredith was trying to figure out how to get Curtis to herself for a few minutes away from everyone, when Honey asked, “How are things up the mountain? Getting everything cleared up?”

She tensed and bit her lip to keep herself from speaking out. She played with her fork, rearranging remnants of the graham cracker crust around on the plate.

Curtis kept a casual expression. “Nothing to worry about.”

Honey leaned forward. “But poison, right?”

He glanced at Meredith, who studied her plate. “Poisonous mushrooms,” he agreed, making Meredith startle at the news. She’d been right. “It appears both men ingested the same thing.”

“Exactly what I’ve been trying to tell her,” Crusty said in a congenial tone. “People have to die sometime, of something. Poison’s as good a reason as any.”

Honey scanned from Curtis’ impassive expression to Meredith’s stony face and gave up on getting any confidential information divulged. Jamie took leaps across the room, counting out loud how many hops it took to go from wall to wall. Atticus ran after her. The sound of sleet pelting the windows and roof made Meredith wonder if they’d get stuck on the way home. She stood suddenly, unable to wait one more moment.

“Curtis, can you help me with something?” she asked, wildly casting about for a reason to get him alone. “My, uh, thing broke.”

Blushing, she headed down the hall, not glancing behind to see if he followed her into the bathroom. A half-second later, he was next to her. He shut the door and twisted the lock.

“Your thing?” he asked, a smile in his eyes and lips twitching. He clasped her into his arms and kissed her until she gasped for breath.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she whispered. “What about Brooke? Why haven’t you called me?”

He didn’t let go of her. “I don’t want you involved in this. The medical examiner is going to list the deaths as accidental; there’s nothing to show otherwise.”

“But Jacob said…” she protested.

“He apparently didn’t voice those concerns to anyone else. This is a dead end for me. Everyone I talked to only has good things to say about Brooke and they describe Jacob as being unbalanced. There’s absolutely nothing to show any motive from anyone to kill an old priest. A medical examiner’s report, the whole town vouching for Brooke’s character. Half the town picks mushrooms in the fall. They agree it’s easy to slip up if you don’t pay attention.”

Meredith deflated at the news. Her instincts led her astray, heightened by her own recent trauma. She wanted it to be murder, but everything spoke against this. One couldn’t choose murder to be true; it either was or wasn’t. The bright side was Jamie’s principal wasn’t a murderer after all. She could put this behind her and be comforted that her daughter would remain safe at school. All would be well.

He gave a weary sigh. “People up there aren’t happy with you, or me. The accident with the equipment and all my questioning—Leona’s starting a petition to get me recalled as sheriff.”

She stared at him, horrified at the series of events she’d set into action. A mini-Honey meddling and disrupting other people’s lives. Curtis’s life aspiration was to be like his grandfather, who was trusted and respected during a long career as sheriff of High County. “Recalled? Oh no. They can’t possibly.”

“People out here tend to circle the wagons when one of their own is threatened,” he said. “If there’s any retaliation, I’ll deal with it, not you or Jamie. No target shooting needed, okay?”

Meredith shook her head, sick over what she was hearing. “Curtis, I’m so sorry.”

He took a lock of her hair between his fingers and rubbed it thoughtfully. “I’m not sorry. It was the right thing to do. Anyway, a recall is likely to blow over by the time the snow melts.”

There was a tap on the door. “If you’ve gotten your ‘thing’ fixed, come have some tea,” Honey called through the door.

Meredith had an image of Honey standing outside, her ear pressed to the door, trying to listen in. “Just about done,” she called back.

“Not quite,” Curtis said, and drew her close again.

****

“So, what are you doing about separating out those rabbits of yours?” Honey asked when they returned to the living room.

Meredith stared straight at her for the first time since walking in the door. Honey met her eye calmly. It was impressive how confident the woman was, how she plowed ahead not caring how she disrupted lives. I’m not like her, she swore to herself. “You mean giving them away?”

Honey shook her head, a serious expression on her face. “Dearie, they need to be separated. Little boys from little girls. They multiply.”

Meredith stared at her in horror. There was limited space in the trailer for just one cage, let alone two or more. Already, the cramped living quarters had taken on a distinct odor of a den of rabbits.

Honey smiled at her sweetly. “You’d best transfer them here so I can put them out in my barn. They’ll be warm and dry until homes are found.”

Meredith didn’t want to accept but was more afraid of the growing rabbits breeding. “They’re Jamie’s,” she said weakly. “She might not like moving them.”

Her daughter started rolling somersaults down the hall, chased by a squealing Atticus.

“Let her stomp around a bit, blow off some steam,” Honey said. “She’ll be fine once she sees how happy they are hanging out with the chickens. In any case, I wanted to wish you a belated happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Meredith answered quietly. “How’d you know? How does everyone know?”

“Jonathan. He knows a lot of things, spending time in the city office with all those records.”

Curtis sat up straight, his jaw tense. “He doesn’t work for the city. He shouldn’t be there at all, snooping around.”

Honey shrugged. “Talk to the mayor. Jonathan’s his godson.”

Meredith recalled the previous spring when Curtis made a copy of her driver’s license after he took her fingerprints. “He’s peeking at more than just city records,” she noted, giving Curtis a pointed look. His face grew dark as the realization dawned on him.

Honey’s tone was airy. “It takes a while to settle in to country living. Eveything’s a little more relaxed out here. I imagine it’s different than what you’re used to.”

“I’ll see to Jonathan, don’t you worry,” Curtis broke in. “I’ve had enough of his coming and going, regardless of his relations. If he’s getting into my files…”

Honey broke in smoothly. “There isn’t one person on the face of the earth that isn’t unscrupulous in one way or another. Anyway, he’s not a bad fellow, just likes to feel needed. Probably his way of getting to know you. He likes the ladies.”

Curtis shifted in his seat, moving slightly closer to Meredith. Heat from his thigh burned into hers. A fresh gust of wind sent a high-pitched squeal around the chimney. Atticus toddled over to Meredith and laid his head against her, his forehead sweaty with activity.

“We need to go,” she said, picking Atticus up. He immediately dropped his head against her shoulder and stuck a thumb in his mouth. They crowded around the entry, preparing themselves to leave the warmth of shelter for an ice storm.

“We never got around to plans for your house,” Honey cried out in disappointment.

Meredith lifted her chin. “There are no plans, other than some repair work in the spring.”

Curtis helped Meredith on with her coat, lifting her hair off her neck to settle the coat on her shoulders. His fingers brushed her skin, sending a tingling down her spine. She ducked her head, afraid to look up at him and expose the yearning in her eyes for all to see.

“I won’t say another word about it,” Honey promised, eyes crinkling at the corners, and then echoed the refrain Meredith was becoming familiar with: “Not until the snow melts.”

Meredith bit back her instinctive reply. Crusty’s words about Honey returned to her, how no one helped her back when she needed help the most. Honey knew what it was like to have a bad husband, to have her home yanked out from under her and she’d fought her way back. Being given a choice is a gift, her boss had said. Meredith’s resolve weakened.

“Thank you for the pie,” was all she ended up saying as they walked out the door.