14
On Good Friday, Jake, Devin, and Vanessa packed a load of gift baskets into the back of the SUV Jake borrowed from his sister. Days after Hillside had placed the first basket on display in the shop, they’d sold six despite the price tag. Then the manager of a Apple Bay office building saw the baskets on the site and sent an e-mail to order for each of the tenants in her building. Jake and Vanessa had to make thirty baskets before Easter.
When Jake picked up the SUV, Taylor begged to ride along. Vanessa kept up only a veneer of happiness—she wanted to make this delivery, too. Jake turned them both down. He had plans for this drive with Devin.
Vanessa stepped back from the tailgate. “That’s it.”
Thirty-two baskets, including extras in case the business wanted to add to their order. If not, Jake would give them as a thank you to the building manager.
“What’s thirty times four?” Devin climbed into the passenger seat.
“Thirty-two times four.” Jake turned the key. Thirty-two baskets, each with a four-pound chocolate egg. “One hundred twenty-eight.”
Devin snorted as he connected his phone to the stereo. “The chocolate weighs more than Lauren.”
“How is she?” Jake shot the question as he pulled onto the road.
He shrugged and started playing music. “Have you asked Brooklyn out yet?”
Brooklyn and Jake wandered in limbo. Every time he reached out to touch her—sometimes when he simply thought of it—she backed away. “When the time comes, I’ve got a strategy.”
Devin laughed. “For what?”
“For how to stay out of trouble until I’m married.”
He rolled his eyes. “Just don’t. Right?”
“Strategy makes difficult things easier.”
“I don’t get why God made it like this. Why make it something people want and then command them not to do it? He should’ve made people hate it and then command them to do it when they’re married. Only responsible people would have kids.”
“That’s probably it.” Jake grinned. “The human race would die off for lack of responsible people.”
“If it’s good later, I don’t get why it’s got to be so bad now.”
“STDs, pregnancies, bad breakups.” Jake glanced over. “I want my wife to know she’s my one and only. Plus, I want to honor God.”
“I don’t think Lauren and I are going to break up.”
“She’s the one?”
Devin put his foot on the dash and nodded, more confident than Jake had ever been about a high school girlfriend. Yet the odds favored him being wrong.
“One word of advice, then.”
“What’s that?”
“Wait. If you want it to last, you’ll wait until you’re married. From what you tell me, you’ve got the rest of your lives.”
Devin bobbed his head. Either he’d heard the warning or had recognized the fastest way to end the subject.
~*~
At their Apple Bay destination, Jake asked Devin to wait in the car while he checked with the office. Devin nodded, busy with his music.
After a maze of carpeted hallways, Jake crossed the sparse reception area to the door with a name plaque that read Dorothy Trier. The narrow window revealed a woman at the desk. A soft knock drew her attention.
“How can I help you?”
“I’m here with the delivery from Hillside. The baskets.”
“Baskets?”
He produced the print off of the e-mail from his back pocket.
Her eyebrows knit together as she read it.
“This is Fox Lake Center, right?”
“Yes, but…” She shook her head and held the paper toward him. “That’s not my e-mail. See? The vowels in my last name are switched, and the domain is wrong. We use an abbreviation.”
He hadn’t had any run-ins with Harold since Hillside installed the cameras. If Harold sent the e-mails to place this bogus order—and what other possibilities were there?—he’d gotten Jake to invest hundreds in Easter-themed baskets. Now they had all this inventory with two days left before the holiday.
“That really is the strangest thing I’ve seen.” A wary smile deepened the creases around her mouth. “Is this some kind of prank?”
“No, not a prank from me if it’s not a prank from you.”
“No. No, certainly not.”
Harold will pay for this. But first, he’d have to prove that Harold was behind the e-mails. And given the Keen family’s power, he’d have to prove it beyond the shadow of a doubt.
“All right. I think I know what happened. Sorry to bother you.” He left, calling Vanessa on the way out. “Bring up the e-mails with this order.”
“Sure. Is something wrong?” The whine of the machines quieted as she presumably made her way toward the office. “Jake?”
“Just check, please.”
“I thought they were in the order folder.”
“Yeah.”
“They’re not here anymore. Let me check the—oh, the trash folder was emptied today. Why did you do that?”
He lowered the phone, quelling the temptation of saying something in anger. But Harold had made a mistake. He brought the phone back to his ear. “This office didn’t place an order. I think Harold faked it, but if he went in and deleted the e-mails, we’ll finally have proof.”
“They didn’t order? How…?” She let out a frustrated sigh. “He wouldn’t do that. I worked so hard on this.”
“I’ll take care of it. He made a mistake this time.”
But when he reviewed the security footage, only employees had used the computer. The camera didn’t record the computer screen, so determining if one of them had deleted the e-mails or used the computer for some other, valid reason was impossible.
“What do we do now?” Vanessa’s voice faltered. “We don’t have proof, so we can’t report it, can we?”
Harold must have one of Hillside’s employees in on this. Or he’d hacked the computer, as Caleb had suggested.
“We’ll sell what we can before Easter. After that, we’ll remarket them as spring baskets.” He left the office to find Ronny doing dishes for once. Brianne, another part-time employee, bustled behind the counter. Had one of them been involved? The cameras had shown others stopping in this morning, too. The doubt in his employees, the hit to sales, and the disappointment to Vanessa demanded he do more than sell the leftover baskets. He wouldn’t sit idly by as Harold dismantled Hillside piece by piece.