“You did a great job, Katherine. The trees are so fat and full and healthy. They should last through New Year’s.”
She gives me a playful nudge with her elbow. “If we work hard, Presley and I could have the inn decorated in time for Thanksgiving.”
“No way!” I say with a laugh. “I’ve told you, Thanksgiving deserves its day of glory. Besides, we have a lot of locals booked at Jameson’s for Thanksgiving dinner. If we spoil it for them, they won’t come back the following week for our big lighting ceremony.”
Katherine considers this. “You’re right. I didn’t think of that.” She gives a little shrug. “Just as well. I’ve ordered the most amazing autumn flowers, and I have some interesting concepts for the Thanksgiving arrangements.”
“I’m sure they’ll be beautiful.”
Katherine opens the door to her truck. “I guess my work here is done for the day.”
“Enjoy the rest of your weekend. I’ll see you tomorrow at the Friendsgiving. I hope you’re bringing Dean with you.”
She snickers. “Dean is thrilled. He could eat Thanksgiving food every day of the year.”
After Katherine leaves, I consider going back to the inn but decide to walk through the spa building instead. Having no workmen or architects around gives me a chance to scrutinize the progress, and I make long lists on the Notes app on my cell phone. Although I’ve managed to kill the better part of the afternoon, I’ve yet to receive word from Diana. At almost five o’clock, I’m walking back up the hill toward the inn when she finally calls.
“I’m sorry, Stella. I don’t know how I missed it. The discrepancies are there, plain as day. Naomi was crafty about her thievery. She stole small amounts that add up to a whopping sum. Over the past six weeks she’s pillaged over ten thousand dollars from the reservations department. This is all on me. I totally understand if you fire me.”
Diana is not the one I aim to fire. I sit down on a nearby park bench. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Diana. This is a lesson learned for both of us. Going forward, we need to be more careful. Is there a way to get documentation of the theft?”
“The pages are coming off the printer now. It will take some time, though. I can have the file ready for you by tomorrow morning.”
“That would be great,” I say. “I wouldn’t ask you to put in such long hours on the weekend if it wasn’t important.”
“I’m happy to help in anyway.”
After ending the call, instead of continuing up to the main building, I go to the cottage, get in my Jeep, and speed down the front driveway. My phone rings with a local number I don’t recognize, and I ignore it. Naomi’s car isn’t in her driveway, but I pound on her front door anyway. No one answers. Walking around to the garage door, I’m surprised to find it unlocked. I tiptoe into the house, passing through the kitchen to the living room where I find the television on, tuned into Nickelodeon, and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn and empty juice box on the coffee table. Strange. Even Naomi is responsible enough to turn the TV off.
I leave the door unlocked and get back in the Jeep. I want to talk to Jack before I make my next move, and I’m almost at his house when my phone rings again from the same unknown number. I answer with a tentative hello, and a female voice asks to speak with Stella Boor. In the background, I hear what sounds like a wild animal howling.
“Speaking. Who’s calling, please?”
“Detective Kathy Sinclair with the Hope Springs Police Department. I have your sister with me at the station.”
My heart skips a beat. My sister is only six. She can’t be in trouble. Is that Jazz I hear crying in the background? “What’s wrong, Detective? Is Jazz okay?”
“She’s fine, although quite upset as you can probably hear. I was on my way home from the station a while ago when I found her wandering around on a street about five blocks from her house. She claims she got lost on her way to find you at Hope Springs Farm. She’s adamant we call you instead of her mother. I got your cell number from the operator at the inn. Can you come to the station?”
“I’m on Main Street now. I’ll be there in five minutes.” When we hang up, I place another call to Brian, explaining what little I know about the situation. He promises to meet me at the station. Before we hang up, I ask him to call Jack for me.
At the police station, a rookie officer shows me to a small room with a table and chairs and no windows. When Jazz sees me, she stands abruptly, kicking her chair out of the way, and rushes into my outstretched arms. “Mommy found my phone and took it from me. I wasn’t running away, Stella. I promise. You told me not to. I was trying to get to you. But I got lost.”
“Shh! It’s okay, Jazzy. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.” Over the top of Jazz’s head, I study the woman more closely. She’s gorgeous with golden brown skin and high cheekbones, and her warm smile speaks to how much she cares about her job. “Do we know where her mother is, Detective?”
“Jazz claims her mother went out with her new boyfriend. As best I can tell, she’s been gone for some time.”
“Are you saying Naomi left Jazz home alone?”
The detective gives me a solemn nod. “It appears so.”
“I’ve just come from their house. That explains why the door was unlocked and the television left on.” My blood reaches the boiling point, and I pace in circles around the room as I jiggle Jazz to calm her. “This is the final straw, Detective. Naomi is not a fit mother. I’m ready to take whatever measures necessary to have this child removed from that home. I assume that means getting social services involved. Will you make that call?”
“I’m one step ahead of you. The agent is already on the way. She should be here momentarily.”
The door bangs open and in files Jack, Brian, and a stern-looking older woman I assume is with the Virginia Department of Social Services. Jack hurries to my side, giving me a half hug and rubbing Jazz’s back. I’m relieved when Brian takes charge in discussing the situation with Cynthia Greene, the social services agent.
I’m shocked at how easy the process goes. Cynthia, who is outraged to hear that Naomi left Jazz at home alone, immediately grants me temporary custody of my sister. “The case will go to juvenile court early next week,” she explains. “We’ll be in touch with you regarding those details. Sometime tomorrow, we’ll arrange for you to get the child’s clothes and whatever other belongings she might need from the home.”
“Who will notify Naomi of this development?” I ask. “And what if she tries to take her away from me?”
Detective Sinclair says, “I will personally wait at Naomi’s house until she returns tonight. Quite frankly, I’m curious what time that will be. I’ll let you know as soon as we’ve spoken. If she tries to take Jazz from you, you should call the police immediately.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Miss Boor,” Cynthia says. “These situations can sometimes get ugly. Down the line, you may need to request a protection order.”
I bring myself to my full height, shifting Jazz to my opposite hip. “I understand. And I’m . . .”—I glance up at Jack who winks at me—“we’re prepared to do whatever it takes to get permanent custody.”
At that instant, every remaining concern I have about marrying Jack dissipates. My doubts were never about him. I love Jack with my whole heart. He loves me, and he loves Jazz. We are a family. We will grow old together raising our children in the manor house. I will do everything in my power to make a success of the inn. But if the worst happens, with Jack’s support, I’ll figure out a new path for my career.
After the paperwork is completed, I thank the detective again and say goodnight to the social services agent. Brian walks us to the parking lot. “Billy knew this day would come. No regrets, Stella. You’re doing the right thing.”
“I should’ve done it a long time ago.” I strap Jazz into her car seat and close the back door. “Diana has documented evidence that Naomi’s been embezzling money from the reservations department. To the tune of ten thousand
dollars. Needless to say, she’s no longer employed at the inn.”
Brian rakes his fingers through salt-and-pepper hair. “Naomi won’t take any of this lying down. We need to prepare ourselves for a fight.”
“Bring it on. She’s not getting Jazz back no matter what.” I thank Brian for his help and kiss his cheek in parting.
Jack follows me to the cottage, and we settle Jazz on the sofa between us. She refuses to eat dinner or talk about anything that happened today. She even rejects my offer to turn on SpongeBob. She only wants to be held, and we are happy to oblige. It’s not long before her eyelids flutter, and she drifts off to sleep.
I smile up at my fiancé. “I’m sorry, Jack. This will put a crimp in our sex life.”
“That’s the least of my concerns at the moment. Not that I won’t miss seeing your beautiful naked body in my bed.” When he leans over to kiss my lips, he squishes Jazz, making her squirm. She stretches out, pushing us farther apart.
I offer him an apologetic smile.
“Welcome to our new normal,” he says. “I’m worried about the two of you living in this tiny cottage and having to share a bed. Don’t you want to move into my house? I have enough bedrooms for the three of us to each have our own.”
“Thanks for the offer, but Jazz feels safe here, and we’re used to sharing a bed. Although we could fit a cot in the bedroom. Maybe I’ll have housekeeping bring one over tomorrow.”
“I’m hoping to have the new house finished by Christmas. Maybe by then, she’ll be ready.”
“Christmas is weeks away. A lot can happen between now and then. Let’s take things one step at a time. First, we need to get through the hearing on Monday.” I kiss my fingertips and touch them to his cheek. “I love you. Please be patient a bit longer. I promise we’ll have our happily ever after.”
“I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
We stare at each other across the sleeping child. We don’t speak. Words aren’t necessary to express the love we feel for each other and for Jazz.
Finally, he breaks the silence, “Wanna watch a movie?”
“Sure! I won’t be able to sleep until I hear from Detective Sinclair anyway.”
“You pick the movie while I put this kiddo in the bed.” Jack lifts Jazz off the sofa and carries her in his arms to the adjacent bedroom.
I find a station playing reruns of Meg Ryan movies. We watch When Harry Met Sally followed by You’ve Got Mail. We’re halfway through Sleepless in Seattle when we hear from Detective Sinclair.
“Naomi just arrived home, if you can believe that. I found Jazz at four fifteen this afternoon. To my best estimate, she’d been alone since around two o’clock. It is now nearly eleven. Which means that child would’ve been alone for nearly nine hours.”
Tears prick my eyelids. “Do you know if Naomi has been drinking?”
“I assume so. She arrived home in an Uber. Why?”
“With all the confusion at the station, I failed to mention she’s a recovering alcoholic.” While I hate that Naomi’s drinking again, it makes my case stronger.
“I’m adding that to my report now. I’ll make certain social services has my report first thing in the morning. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble from Naomi tonight. But call nine-one-one immediately if you do.”
“You’ve gone above and beyond on this case, Detective. Thank you.”
Within minutes of me hanging up with Sinclair, I receive a text from Naomi: You won’t get away with this, Stella.
I already have. And BTW, I have documented proof that you stole over ten thousand dollars from the inn. You’re fired.
33
Presley
Presley is stretched out on Big Blue, reading a romance novel and pretending she’s not alone on a Saturday night, when the sound of Everett’s distinct voice wafts through the closed window from the balcony. He sings “Show Me the Way” followed by “Go Home, Mary.” It breaks Presley’s heart to think about how much his family has suffered. Alcoholism and abuse.
Presley thinks back to earlier in the day when she spotted Everett and his mother in the lobby at the inn. She spied on mother and son from inside Billy’s Bar. The abuse was evident in Mary’s broken arm, missing tooth, and yellowing bruises around her eyes. How devastating to have the man you promised to love, honor, and cherish cause you such pain. Why did Mary stay with Everett’s father? Because she loved him? Or were they so poor she couldn’t afford to leave him?
Presley had softened toward Everett when she saw the way he doted on his mother. He helped Mary into a chair by the window and knelt down beside her when he spoke to her. His lips lingered in her hair when he kissed the top of her head in parting. A man will treat his woman the way he treats his mother. Everett may have trouble telling the truth, but he’s a gentle soul. He would never intentionally hurt someone he cares about. If he keeps his drinking under control. But that is a big if, a chance Presley’s not willing to risk. She does not want to end up like Mary.
His next song is one Presley has never heard before about a red-headed woman named after the King of Rock and Roll. She leaves the sofa for the window. Sliding the bottom sash upward, she sits on the sill with her slippered feet on the balcony. The lyrics in his song speak of his love for Presley and how her presence in his life brightens his world.
Everett’s music is showing her the way. Right back to him.
When the song ends, the crowd on the sidewalk at Town Tavern goes wild. Presley waits for the applause to die down. “You wrote a song about me.”
“I did. Do you like it? I’ve been working on it for a while.”
“I love it. Does it have a title?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’m thinking of calling it something simple—like “Presley.”
“I’m flattered, Everett. I hope you don’t mind if I continue to call you Everett. That’s who you are to me.”
“You can call me whatever you like. Everett is my given name. So, are you flattered enough to forgive me?”
She smiles, but he can’t see her in the dark. “No way I’m making it that easy for you.”
Everett’s groupies on the street chant for more.
Presley laughs. “Get used to it. This is your future. You can’t disappoint your fans.”
“Wanna come sit with me while I sing?”
“I’m fine where I am.”
He performs for over an hour until the crowd on the street diminishes.
Everett places his guitar inside his apartment, but he doesn’t leave his window. “So, you’re not going to forgive me?”
Her people reader was right about him all along. He lost his way for a while. His circumstances led him to make some bad decisions. But his core beliefs are rock solid. “I’m not one to hold a grudge, Everett. I forgive you for the lies, although it hurts that you didn’t have enough faith in me to tell me the truth.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’d like to make it up to you if you’ll give me another chance. Will you give us another chance, Presley?”
“What’s the point? You’re moving to Nashville to become a country music star.”
He lets out an audible sigh. “Can I at least come over to your window, so we can talk face-to-face?”
“I don’t think so, Everett. There’s nothing left to say. I can forgive the lies, but I’m not yet ready to forget about your addiction. I just buried one alcoholic. I can’t go through that again.”
“Whoa. Wait a minute. I haven’t had a drink in over two years.” She hears anger in his voice.
“But you write about it in the song.”
“And the song went viral because my fans could hear my raw emotions. I’m not gonna lie to you, Presley, I fight the temptation to drink nearly every single day. But I’ve stayed sober for two years. I’ve told you before. I don’t like the person I am when I drink. And I never wanna hurt the ones I love like that again.
“There are no guarantees in life, Presley. I’m in love with you. All I’m asking for is a
chance. I want a future with you. We’ll take it one day at a time. If we’re both committed, we can make a long-distance relationship work.”
“You’re about to embark on a lifestyle that revolves around partying. The temptation will be great, and I’m warning you in advance, I won’t be forgiving if you fall off the wagon. I can’t go through that again.”
“Understood. Having you in my life is all the more reason for me to stay sober.”
“I need some time to think, Everett. Are you staying for Friendsgiving tomorrow night?”
“We hadn’t planned on it, but I will if it means spending more time with you.”
“I’d like to meet your mom.” Perhaps meeting Mary will help her decide whether to give him another chance.
“In that case, we’ll stay. Mom wants to meet you as well.”
Presley stays in bed uncharacteristically late on Sunday morning. She stares at the ceiling as she struggles with her decision whether to give Everett another chance. One thing he said last night keeps repeating itself in her mind. There are no guarantees in life. Presley knows that as well as anyone. What’s the worst thing that can happen? If it doesn’t work out between them, their relationship wasn’t meant to be. At least, she won’t go through the rest of her life wondering what might have been.
Thanksgiving was like every other holiday at Presley’s house when she was growing up—a catered affair with a merry mix of guests who had nowhere else to be. Even Christmas was an endless stream of parties. After attending several gatherings on Christmas Eve, Renee and Presley stayed up late opening all their presents and then slept in on Christmas Day, only to start the round of open houses that lasted all afternoon and well into the evening. What will she do on the real Thanksgiving this year? Everett will be gone and she has no family. She won’t hold her breath waiting for an invitation from Lucy. She’s grateful to have work at least to focus on.
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