While shaving Sunday morning, Cal considered the advantages of a goatee. Tammy had nixed the idea of growing one. He hadn’t even bothered to mention that as fall turned to winter, his goatee sprouted into a full-fledged beard. It was his annual custom, now past due to begin.
He arrived at church with 30 seconds to spare and hurried up a side aisle as the organist played the opening bars of a song. He slipped midway into a pew, grabbing a hymnal from its bracket. Beside him, a black-haired woman turned and smiled. It was Lia…with short hair!
She grinned, pointed at her head, and nodded.
He blinked. “What’d you do?”
She only sang, holding up her hymnal to show him the page number.
Turning his attention to the music, he gave her sidelong glances. By some standards her hair wouldn’t be considered short, but compared to yesterday’s ponytail swishing to her waist, this was short. Parted on the left, it hung thick and straight to just beneath her chin, a shiny swoop of jet black that set off her dark eyes and accented her creamy skin. Except for subtle eyeliner and glossy lipstick, she wore no makeup. Not that the smooth porcelain needed it. Not that Tammy’s pretty face needed it either, but that didn’t stop her from caking it on.
The music came to an end. As they sat, Lia palmed the bottom edge of her hair, patting it, and whispered, “So what do you think?”
Cal wasn’t good at faking compliments. Her long hair had been the most appealing thing about her. One of the most, anyway. Involuntarily, he winced.
She laughed quietly and leaned toward him, stretching to whisper in his ear, “It’s good to have an honest friend.”
Cal was like the gum he chewed. Lia couldn’t unstick the thought of him. This had been going on for a while, not just since Friday night when they nearly kissed, but especially so since Friday night. Whatever that had been!
Turning toward him now, she squinted against the sunlight as they walked toward her car. “I’ve moved the back room key from the desk drawer and hidden it in the laundry detergent. I usually use the one I keep on this ring with all my other keys.”
“And where do you keep that ring?”
“With me. When the store’s open, it’s in a drawer behind the counter. If I’m home, it’s usually in my handbag, upstairs.”
“Will you tell Chloe where you hid the key?”
“Cal, she lives there with me. In an emergency, she may need to use it.”
“Kids talk.”
“She won’t if I tell her not to.”
“You give her an awful lot of responsibility for a—How old is she?”
“Nine. Nine year olds are capable of extraordinary responsibility. She’s better than I am on the cash register.”
He grunted a monosyllabic reply. “Did she tell you if Chelsea had friends over Thursday night while she was babysitting?”
“I asked. She said no one came. They did art projects all evening.” She didn’t mention that Chloe had already been in bed a while when she arrived home from the book club. In her opinion, casting shadows of doubt over Chelsea wasn’t necessary. Lia opened her trunk, removed a large manila envelope, and handed it to him. “Here are the copies of invoices and everything.” Closing the lid, she scanned the parking lot, watching for Chloe.
“Thanks. Try not to worry.”
“Are you kidding? I feel like I need an armed guard just to walk upstairs to the apartment!”
He squeezed her elbow. “Hey, I’ll figure it out.” It was his larger-than-life cop tone. “And remember Philippians 4:6 and 7. Be anxious for nothing, Miss Impressively Independent.”
It worked. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Have you talked with Chloe’s dad again?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” She pressed her lips together and then exhaled loudly. “Scratch the unfortunately. Why, yes,” she attempted a cheery lilt, “I have talked with him and the conversation went rather well. I’m letting her visit him next weekend.”
He gave her a thumbs-up sign. “Way to go.”
“I sure hope so. Will you stop staring at my hair?”
“Oh, uh, sorry. It just takes some getting used to.”
“Well, get used to it when I can’t see you. You’re giving me a complex.”
He crossed his arms and made an exaggerated show of studying her from every angle. “Why did you do it?”
“Why not?”
“It looked great the way it was.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you tell me.”
“Typical male. Don’t know what you want until it’s long gone.”
“Typical female, always changing to keep up with the latest fashion.” Something flickered in his eyes.
Unintentionally, the bantering had turned flirtatious. The scales they had kept so delicately balanced tipped, and the momentum pushed her comeback off the tip of her tongue. “Accuse me of paying attention to fashion, will you? No way now am I telling you why I did it, Deputy Huntington.”
“Have it your way. We’re not supposed to be friends anyway, right?” The early spring green of his eyes reflected the noon sunshine, his cheeks folding like an accordion behind his big grin.
She looked away, speechless at the surprising jab of hurt. Well, you asked for it, she chided herself, playing with fire. And yes, you did tell him you shouldn’t be friends…for Tammy’s sake.
He cleared his throat. “Here comes Chloe. Well, thanks for the papers. I’ll study them and hopefully come up with a simple explanation for the missing drugs.”
She nodded and gave him a tight smile. “Bye.”
“See you.” He threw her one last puzzled look and left.
Lia watched him stride away, his broad teddy bear shoulders draped in a white shirt with thin, subtle green stripes, its long sleeves rolled up his forearms. His thick, bristly, light brown hair was cut neatly across the back of his square neck.
Strike two. Their easygoing relationship had just turned serious.
Strike one had been his tendency to avoid Chloe. Fear of little kids. Lia had seen it often enough.
Not that she was pitching to him in the first place, but she should pray for a strike three. She was enjoying his company way too much and even missing him. Actually wondering what that kiss would have felt like. Ridiculous! After all these years of guarding her time and her heart, of protecting her space with Chloe, she wasn’t going to throw it away and lose herself to a man as her sister had done…just because a pair of green eyes danced in the noon sunlight, warming her like the first hints of spring.
Come to think of it, there already was a strike three. Tammy. He was crazy about—if not wholeheartedly devoted to—a beautiful woman.
Good. No reason for Lia to complicate her own life by encouraging his friendship…or whatever the correct term was. May he buy his toothpaste elsewhere!
Cal made one last sweeping glance over the thinning crowd outside the church. No Brady. No Gina. No Isabel. No Tony, who had become a regular in recent weeks.
He made a beeline for Celeste. Unlike the pastor himself, Peter’s wife would get straight to the heart of the matter. And she wouldn’t invite him yet again to the men’s weekly Bible study/prayer breakfast.
“Celeste. Morning.”
“Hi, Cal.” She smiled and waved goodbye to the last departing parishioner.
“Any idea where Brady and Gina are?”
“Afraid not. They talked with us briefly on Friday. Peter suggested they get away to some quiet place and be alone, but you know it’s harvest season. Brady’s in the fields.”
Cal knew. Brady would have shown up in boots, jeans, jacket, and cap, harried from taking precious minutes away from his combine. They were probably working 12-hour days. There would be no time for a getaway soon. Brady loved farming and he loved the farm. He was part owner. It was his responsibility. Even the writing would be put on hold until a rainy day. But could he put Gina on hold and survive?
“Don’t look so worried, Cal. Pray for them.”
“How were they?”
“Cautious. Gina held his hand the whole time. He looked more distraught than she did. I’m certain they’re determined to get over this bump in the road.”
“Celeste, the eternal optimist.”
“Never.” She laughed, her freckled nose all scrunched up. “They just need some healing time.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“I saw you with Lia.”
He clenched his jaw. Valley Oaks women and their preoccupation with observing every single conversation. They really should be deputized—
“What did you think of her haircut?”
“It’s, um, different.”
“Cal, that’s not the point! She donated her hair to be made into wigs for cancer patients. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Hmm. I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Yes. Did you sign the petition yet?”
“What petition?”
“Cal, you really should get out more. Some HMO is going to cut out independent pharmacies like hers. Without their support, she’ll go out of business. We can’t lose her!”
Lia needed money? What was it she had said? Oh, please don’t shut me down. I don’t know how I’m going to make ends meet as it is!
An ominous scenario began to form in his mind. He fought the urge to suppress it. After all, such thoughts were part of his job.