As soon as I entered the house, Becky was ready to tell me all about her first day at Little Owl Greenhouse. “Chloe, I had the best day. Scotch and Cookie are so much fun.” Her face glowed. Despite working all day, Becky had managed to make a shepherd’s pie for dinner. She warmed a piece for me in the oven as she told about her day, then she kept me up until past eleven with stories about the greenhouse owners. I was glad to see her so happy and saw no reason to ruin it with news of my day.
At midnight my cell phone rang, and I almost fell off my bed. I’d been asleep less than an hour.
“Chloe?” Tanisha’s voice sounded as if she was across the room from me—not across the world.
Guilt washed over me. I’d promised Tanisha I would call her back the night I had dinner at the Troyer’s farm, and that was three days ago.
“Did you lose my phone number or something?” She sounded hurt. Apparently, she hadn’t forgotten.
I rubbed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Tee. How are you?”
“Awful.”
I smiled at her bluntness. If I had been asked the same question under those circumstances, I would most likely have said “fine” or “okay,” even if neither were true.
“Have you heard from Cole?”
“No, and I don’t want to. What does he have to say to me other than that he doesn’t love me anymore?”
“He does love you, Tanisha. I know he does. Maybe he’s afraid you will find some hot Italian guy to fall in love with.”
“I just might,” she grumbled. “Anyway, that’s a crock about him loving me. If he loved me he would understand why I have to stay here. I committed to teach here for two years. If he had a problem with it, why didn’t he say something before I signed the contract?”
I couldn’t argue with her there. “What can I do? Other than flying to Florida and telling Cole what a huge mistake he’s making, that is.”
Her laughter sounded rough, harsh. “Be there. I need my best friend right now.”
I gripped the phone and nodded. “I’m here for you, Tee.”
“You are? Then why am I the one calling you? I’m the one in the middle of a crisis here.”
I didn’t correct her, nor did I tell her that I was in the middle of a crisis of my own. What could she do thousands of miles away but worry?
To her credit, Tanisha was much more intuitive than given credit for. “What’s going on? I know something is up.”
My mind searched for the words to tell her. “Umm . . .”
“Is this about that hot buggy boy? Weren’t you at his parents’ home when I called?”
I sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Good, because I need someone else’s complications to think about right now. Don’t let me wallow in self-pity and snotty tissues.”
I shook my head, smiling at my friend’s invitation, then heaved a heavy sigh. “Okay. I hope you’re sitting down.” I proceeded to tell her everything that had happened since Becky called me about the accident on Friday. Even as I spoke the words, they sounded unbelievable to me. And I’d lived them.
Tanisha groaned more than once during my story. “Where does the hot buggy boy fit into all of this?”
“You mean Timothy.”
“Duh.”
“Becky is his sister . . .”
“And?”
“He agreed to help me find out what really happened. If we can find out who cut the brake line, we will know who the intended victim was.”
“Do you think it was you?” She sounded incredulous.
I hedged. “Why would it be me? I just moved here.”
“You’re right.” She was quiet for a minute. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he liked you. Why else would he agree to help you investigate?”
“Umm, because his sister’s in trouble, his family is not talking to Becky, and the younger children are being affected.”
“Naw, it’s because of you.”
I had to laugh. Tanisha laughed too.
We talked until I was too tired to string together a full sentence. As I drifted off to sleep, I found myself wondering if Tanisha might be right.