“That son of a bitch has been stealing from her.” Travis thumped his fist against the dash of Brody’s truck. “As soon as my leg heals, I’m going to kick his ass.” He glared out the window as they rolled through town, passing shops and restaurants on their way to his garage. He’d needed to get out of Maggie’s place for a while, and checking on the building progress at his auto repair was a good excuse. It had been twenty-four hours since she had dropped the bombshell that some deposit money was missing and took the blame for the mix-up. He found it next to impossible to keep his anger reined in.
“How do you know?” Brody waved to his sister, Liza, outside her art gallery as they went by.
“Maggie doesn’t make mistakes when it comes to money.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.”
“That’s what she said, but I don’t believe it. Money’s tight right now because she’s been paying for everything. Sales have been slow for Buddy.” He flicked his fingers in air quotes and then punched his fist into his palm. “I’ll bet my life he stole that deposit money.”
“Wouldn’t Maggie know if he took it?”
“She’s too trusting. Let’s these guys walk all over her. Believes every lying word they say.”
“I never took her to be a pushover,” Brody said.
“Little Buddy must’ve given her a hell of a snow job, because she sure doesn’t put up with my shit.”
They shared a laughed, but Travis felt no humor in the truth. Maggie had a strong backbone when it came to him, always calling him out when she smelled a rat. But somehow she had let two husbands crush her spirit in their own devious ways. He couldn’t sit by and watch it happen again with husband number four, no matter what he had promised himself.
“What’s she going to do?” Brody asked, pulling into the parking lot of Travis’s shop.
“I offered my help, but she said she’d figure it out. I’m afraid he’ll give her some bullshit story, making her feel sorry for him. I don’t know what to do.”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Keeping my mouth shut and killing her with kindness?”
“Exactly,” Brody said, shutting off the engine.
“She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.” Travis rubbed his hand over his puppy-fur head. “She keeps trying to pick a fight, but I won’t give in.” He chuckled to himself. “Got her all off-kilter.”
“If Garrett stole from her, she’s going to need you. She’ll see through his crap eventually.” Brody laid his hand on Travis’s shoulder. “In the meantime, keep on doing like you’ve been. Be nice to her.”
Travis eased himself out of the passenger’s side, putting all his weight on his good leg while he pulled his crutches from behind the seat. Steam rose off the black asphalt as he hobbled toward the garage bays under construction. He and Brody watched as masons laid rows of concrete block smeared with thick mortar. Travis’s attention turned upward to the dirty windows of his second floor apartment. It was a convenient place to live, but it never felt like home.
“Yeah.” He ran his hand over his sore ribs. “I don’t want her to kick me out. I kind of like being there.”
A few hours later, after they had made a stop at Misty Mountain Brewery to taste Tucker’s latest recipe, and a stop at the bank where Travis transferred enough money into his checking account to pay Carly’s tuition bill, Brody dropped him back at Maggie’s. Carly was the only one home.
“Hey, little girl, what’s going on in here?” He leaned heavily on his crutches as he came into the kitchen. His ribs ached, and the incision throbbed where they’d taken out his spleen. He might have overdone it today, climbing in and out of Brody’s truck.
“I’m making a strawberry pie. Virginia McNamara dropped off two quarts of berries this morning.”
“You bake?”
“Yeah, I’m following Grandma Ginny’s recipe.” She held up a yellowed index card, waving it in the air. “It’s my first attempt at strawberry pie.”
“I’m sure it’ll be delicious.” Travis winced as he eased himself onto a kitchen chair, sighing once he was settled.
“Are you okay?” She rushed to his side, setting his crutches along the wall. “You look tired.”
“Did a little too much today, I guess.”
“Want to lie down?”
“Nope, I want to watch a future chef create an award-winning pie.”
“Yeah, right. Let’s just hope it’s edible.” Carly gathered the ingredients from the counter and moved them to the table, where she sat across from Travis and sliced strawberries into a large bowl. “I think Mom needs some cheering up.”
“Your Mom’s not okay?”
“Didn’t you see her before you went out?”
“She stayed in her room. Probably trying to avoid me.”
Carly stopped cutting and pointed the paring knife at him. “Did you two have another fight?”
“Nope.”
She gave him a dubious look and went back to slicing the bright red berries. Travis snatched one out of the bowl, barely avoiding the tip of her knife. “Watch it, or you won’t get a slice of pie.”
“I hear you.”
“So . . .” Her brows pulled in tight. “. . . if you two didn’t have an argument, why does Mom seem so down?”
He shrugged as he popped the strawberry in his mouth. How much did Carly know about Buddy? What did she think of him? Since Maggie had started dating him, Travis had avoided the subject with Carly. He wouldn’t be able to handle his jealousy if she said she really liked the guy. But maybe she had some insight that would help Maggie’s situation.
“I think it has something to do with Buddy,” she said, opening the door to a sticky conversation. “She’s been kind of stressed out—more than usual—since yesterday. Maybe they had a fight.”
“That could be it.”
“Or I was thinking he might be pressuring her to reschedule the wedding. I overhead them at the hospital.”
“Buddy came to the hospital?”
“Yeah, I heard him say the pastor could marry them Sunday—the day after your wreck—and she said it was too soon. She couldn’t marry him with you in the hospital.”
“Why would that’ve stopped her?”
“I just think—” She tossed the paring knife on the table and leaned back in her chair, wiping her hands on a tea towel. Her heavy sigh ruffled her bangs.
“What do you think? You can tell me.”
“I don’t feel right talking about Mom behind her back.”
“Okay, but—”
“I don’t like being in the middle.” She ran her thumb around the rim of the mixing bowl, keeping her eyes cast down.
“I have never pressed you to tell me anything about your mother’s personal life, and you don’t have to tell me now. But if there’s something you’re worried about, or if she’s in danger or—”
“I can trust you,” she said, raising her gaze to Travis.
“You can always trust me.” Their eyes locked, sealing the unspoken covenant they’d established since she was a child. Carly knew she could tell him anything and he’d always have her back.
“Okay, so, since you wrenched it out of me.” She giggled, shoving the bowl of fruit and bag of sugar out of her way. “I don’t like it when Buddy stays over. He’s creepy.”
A wave of nausea flooded Travis’s gut. If that son of a bitch touched his daughter . . .
“He’s always snooping around in her closet or the kitchen drawers. One day I caught him looking in her purse while she was in the shower.”
Travis felt like a balloon that had popped. He sagged against the chair, relieved his worst fear hadn’t been carried out by Buddy Garrett. He might be a thief but not a pedophile, thank God.
“Did he take anything out of it?”
“No, because I came in the room and asked him what he was doing.”
“What did he say?”
“He gave me some lame excuse that he was just putting a twenty back in Mom’s wallet that he’d borrowed earlier.”
“And you didn’t believe him?”
“Heck no. I don’t trust him.”
He tried hard not to smile, but couldn’t hold it back. It warmed his heart to know he had no competition for his daughter’s love.
“He’s way too smooth, you know?” Carly opened the sugar and dug deep with a scoop, letting the white crystals slide back into the bag. “It’s like everything is rehearsed with him. He says just the right things. Always polite, polished, even his clothes are way too perfect. He’s an imposter.” She threw the scoop back into the sugar and shot an angry glare at Travis. “I can’t believe she’s fallen for him. I just wish I could pin something on him. Prove to her that he is not who he pretends to be.”
How the hell did his daughter get so smart? Travis wasn’t the only one who saw through Buddy’s thin, slimy veneer. Should he tell her she wasn’t the only one who didn’t trust him? Travis suspected Buddy had stolen the deposit money from Maggie and Penny. He just didn’t know how to prove it.
“What?” Carly said, pulling him from his thoughts.
“What what?”
“You know something. I see it in your eyes. Do you know something about Buddy?”
“No.” Damn—she was smart and a mind reader.
“I don’t believe you.” She reached across the table and sunk her nails into his wrist. “Out with it, Dad. What do you know about Buddy?”
“Ouch. I’m still recuperating.” He pulled his arm from her claws and shook out the pain. “I’ll tell you if you promise not to hurt me again.”
“I didn’t hurt you, you big baby. Now tell me what you know.”
“Fine, but this stays between you and me.”
“Absolutely.” She rolled her hand in the air, urging him on.
“Some money’s missing from the Brass Rail. A couple of deposits didn’t mesh with your mom’s bookkeeping.”
“No way. She always accounts for every cent.”
“Exactly. But she chalked it up to stress, the wedding, too much on her plate. Basically blames herself. Penny has cleared all the employees after she grilled them.” He leaned his elbows on the table, lowering his voice even though they were the only two in the house. “I need to confirm where Buddy was on the days your mom deposited the money. Was he with her?”
“You think he stole the money?”
“Maybe. She said he often helps out at the bar. Was he there on those nights? My gut tells me he had something to do with it, but first I need to prove he had access to the money.”
“I can check the schedule. They keep it on a bulletin board at the bar. I can see if Mom made the night drop those days.”
“But we don’t know when it was.”
“I’ll find out. Aunt Penny said she’ll pay me if I clean the bar on Saturday morning. I’ll do a little detective work.”
“Okay. See what you can find out. If he stole the money, he’ll answer to me.”