by Becki Willis
“Like wondering how she would ever function without him? How she would never see his gorgeous hazel eyes again or feel his strong arms around her?” Genny stared off into the distance, obviously imagining how she might react, should the worst happen to Cutter. “How he’d never leave his sooty bunker gear in the hallway again, or track cow manure across a newly mopped floor? How he’d never eat another batch of hot apple turnovers, all by himself?” Tears swam in her baby-blue eyes as the terrible thoughts flooded through her.
Madison patted her friend’s hand in a gesture of comfort, but memories made her smile bittersweet. “Believe it or not, that’s not always the first thoughts through your head,” Madison said. “I know Gray and I were estranged at the time of his accident. Little more than polite strangers, living in the same house for the sake of the children, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love him, on some level. Still, I remember thinking such random thoughts when I first got the news. Was my sweater still in the backseat? Was he wearing his good watch, the one I gave him for our fifteenth wedding anniversary? Who would preach the service? I needed to cancel my dental appointment the next day. Clean out the refrigerator for the many pies and casseroles that would soon arrive. Remember to rotate my tires on the schedule he kept for me. Silly things, really, but things I could wrap my head around.” She pushed out a sad breath. “I couldn’t wrap my head around his death. And I don’t think Collette could wrap her head around her husband’s death, either.”
Genny shook her head in empathy, sniffing away the traces of her overly emotional reaction. “That’s just so sad.”
“It is. And on top of all that, thinking it could be deliberate. I can’t imagine the horror of knowing your husband was murdered.” Her mind was busy turning gears. “It makes you wonder,” Madison continued, “how someone could have orchestrated that. I mean, he’s from Marlin. Their group is completely volunteer, and they do these reenactments across the state. So, it would have to be someone who knew his schedule. Someone who knew he would be there this weekend. It’s most likely someone within his own regimen, wouldn’t you think?”
“It could be,” Genny agreed. “But I’m not like you, Maddy. I don’t really think a lot about murder and suspects and motive. That’s your thing.”
Madison couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess it’s because I’m about to marry a lawman, slash special investigator for the sheriff’s department.”
“That, and because half your clients seem to think you’re some sort of private investigator, yourself!”
“There is that,” Madison agreed with a slight grimace.
When she moved back home last year, she started a temporary service to make ends meet. Before acquiring her house and her own dedicated business space, the corner booth at New Beginnings had been the unofficial office for In a Pinch Professional Services. Over the course of the last fourteen months, her business had slowly outgrown the corner booth, but Madison couldn’t help but recall some of the more challenging jobs accepted at this very table.
It was amazing, really, some of the things people hired her to do. While pharmaceutical runs and taxiing outpatients back and forth to doctor appointments provided a meager income, they were only a small portion of the services she provided. She had temporarily worked at a car dealership, insurance company, surveyors’ office, the police station, a commercial chicken farm, and at various other businesses around the sistering towns of Naomi and Juliet. People hired her to spy on cheating spouses, to find a missing chair and missing Christmas presents, and to prove a teetotaler didn’t die of alcohol poisoning; not naturally, at any rate. She walked dogs and walked chicken houses and took on the formidable task of proving a man innocent of murder. It was a far cry from the charitable work she did in Dallas, or the receptionist job she held with her late husband’s investment company, but it was oddly fulfilling. Madison enjoyed the challenge of learning different jobs, and she found great satisfaction in helping others.
“Have you given any more thought to getting your PI license?”
“Not really. At the moment, I’m a little preoccupied, getting ready for a certain upcoming wedding.”
Genny struck a shocked pose. “Really? And whose could that be?” She feigned total innocence.
“Let me see… Oh, yes. Mine!”
They both gave an excited squeal, gripping one another’s fingers in the middle of the table in a throwback from their teenage years. The two had been best friends since they were in junior high.
“How are the plans coming? What can I help with?” As always, Genny was the first to volunteer for anything Madison needed.
“I think everything is on schedule. Between Granny Bert and Mrs. de, I don’t have a very big part in the wedding.”
“Uhm, except for the fact you’re the bride,” her friend pointed out.
“I’m not sure that matters at this point!” Madison laughed. “Between my grandmother and his mother, not to mention his sister—and even Shannon, his ex-wife—I don’t have a very big role in preparing for this thing.”
“This thing happens to be one of the most important events in your entire life.”
“It rates right up there with giving birth to the twins,” Madison agreed. “You know I loved Gray when I married him, but let’s face it…I’ve been half in love with Brash for over half my life! He was my high school crush, and now he’s my soul mate.” She gave a dreamy sigh. “As long as I come away from the day with his ring on my finger, I really don’t care much about the details. It’s the happily ever after I want.”’
“And you shall have it, my friend. But don’t give up all rights to planning your wedding. This is y’all’s day. It should be about the two of you, and what you want.”
Madison propped her elbows onto the table. “You know what I want? I want a wildflower wedding. Just Brash and me. The twins, of course, and Megan. Only our closest friends and family. Outside, at the ranch, in our spot by the river.” She used her hands for emphasis. “Small and simple.”
“Then that’s what you should have.”
She made a face. “It may be too late. The invitations are at the printers.”
“So make it an invitation to the reception. Let Granny Bert and Mrs. deCordova throw the party they want, but you and Brash have the wedding you want. You deserve it.”
A hopeful light came to Madison’s eyes. “You think I could get away with it?”
“Of course you can. You’re the bride. You can do anything you want.”
When her phone buzzed, Madison dug through her purse to find it. “What I want is to find a phone that floats,” she mumbled. “Right to the top of my purse, above all the other stuff I have crammed in here.”
“I have a better solution. Don’t cram so much stuff in there.”
“Ah, easy for you to say. You’re not the mother of two busy sixteen-year-olds.” She began pulling things out of her purse, setting them on the table in the quest for the elusive cell phone. “See this? It’s my emergency sewing kit. I never know when Bethani might pop a seam on her cheerleading outfit or rip the hem out. And this is Blake’s backup to his backup inhaler. He doesn’t have an asthma attack often, but with all the sports he plays, it’s best to be prepared. This is the trash from his breakfast snack this morning, the one he ate in the car on the way to school, after I fed him waffles and sausage this morning. These are the papers I need to fill out for their driver’s permits. And this is… well, I’m not sure what this is, but I’m sure it’s important.” Her fingers made contact with her vibrating phone. “Ah, here it is!” she cried in triumph.
She frowned when she saw the message scrolled across the screen.
“Bad news?” Genny fretted.
“No. Just Mr. Barrett again.” She tucked the phone away with a sigh. “Remind me. Why did I take on a new client, less than a month before my wedding?”
“Do you want the short explanation—money—or the long one, where we talk about feeling sorry for the old man, knowing he’s
trying to find his family before he goes to that big ranch in the sky, and how he was always nice to us when we were teenagers, never complaining when we had all those pasture parties on his land?”
“Let’s go with the short one.”
“You needed the money.” Genny flashed her friend a smile before giving the short explanation a long clarification. “Even though Brash has repeatedly offered to support you, you feel it’s important to maintain your financial independence. After the stunt Gray pulled, leaving you widowed and penniless before your fortieth birthday, you feel the need to show your children that you can provide for them. That a woman must be strong enough, and resourceful enough, to stand on her own two feet. Even if Brash helps with the bills after the wedding, you want to contribute your fair share. And that means taking on new clients, even at a time like this.”
“So you’re saying I should call him back.”
“That depends. What did he want this time?”
“This time, he wanted me to track down his niece’s son. Thirty minutes ago, he wanted me to track down his niece. Thirty minutes before that, he texted me to say he just discovered he had a niece.” She tried not to look as exasperated as she felt. “You’re right. I’d like to help him, but I wish to goodness he hadn’t bought one of those DNA kits!”
“I know,” Genny commiserated, “but it’s kinda sweet, and kinda sad, all at the same time. He never had children of his own. Who’s he going to leave all that land to? He’s getting on in years, and it’s only natural to start thinking of the importance of family, and the connections he never made. Time’s running out for him.”
“But he’s hired me to track down all those leads, and my time is running out, too! I hoped to finish this up before the wedding, but with him adding new relatives every thirty minutes, I may never catch up!”
Genny wagged her eyebrows, grinning mischievously. “Someone in his family was very prolific, weren’t they?”
Glancing at her phone, Madison sighed. A new message popped up, with another possible family connection.
“More than you know,” she sighed.
CHAPTER THREE
After leaving New Beginnings, Madison drove out to Nigel Barrett’s place. The older gentleman lived only a few miles from the deCordova Ranch, in an old house near the Brazos River.
The house reminded Madison of the one they had toured yesterday as part of the living-history farm at Washington-on-the-Brazos State Historical Site. The centerpiece of Barrington Farm was the carefully restored home of Anson Jones, the last president of the Republic of Texas. The typical 1800s dogtrot style of the old home amused the kids. Blake had joked about hoping the Wi-Fi worked on both sides of the house, and Bethani had grimaced at the thought of having no Wi-Fi, at all. Brash explained the purpose of the wide, covered space, perfect for additional living space and air circulation, but he lost all three teens when he spoke of life without electricity.
Like the Jones’ home, a wide ‘dog trot’ divided Nigel Barrett’s house neatly in half. But unlike the historic two-story Jones home, his was a single story, painted barn red instead of white, and had been upgraded with electricity and plumbing. Window units, two satellite dishes, and numerous wires and electrical poles spoiled the authenticity effect, even though Madison was certain it was built well before the turn of the twentieth century.
Looking at the ramshackle house, one would never know the old man had two producing oil wells on his property.
Oddly enough, Madison mused as she took the steps up to the porch, both the Barrett home and the Jones home sat along the winding Brazos River, separated by several miles and a county line.
There were two doors on each side of the house, all four opening into the dogtrot. Madison knocked on the first one on the right. “Mr. Barrett? Are you home?”
Across the wide space, a door opened behind her. “Over here, Ms. Reynolds,” the older man said. “That’s the night side of the house. This side is for day living.”
She supposed that translated to bedrooms on the right, living room on the left. As she stepped through the door he held for her, Madison was a bit apprehensive about the home’s interior. To her surprise, the inside was fully modernized and quite comfortable looking. Even though the style was dated—the wood paneling had a 70s feel, and the sofa was a throwback from her childhood—a flat-screen television took center stage in a very modern-day entertainment center.
With a voice command, Nigel Barrett turned off the television.
“Nice,” Madison commended him with a smile.
“If you think that’s something, you should see my TV room. It’s on the night side of the house. Surround-sound speakers and three flat-screen televisions, all voice controlled. This one is just for day viewing.”
Not sure how to respond, Madison went with, “Oh. Well, that’s convenient, I guess.”
“Not really,” the old man grunted. “How would you like having to go outside, every time you wanted to go from your bedroom to your living room? Or to your kitchen? Ended up having to put in a kitchenette on the night side of the house, in case I get a hankering for a midnight snack. It’s like having two houses, one on either side.”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t build a new house, one that had all the conveniences in one spot.” Or, she thought to herself, closed in the dogtrot.
He gave her a disgusted look. “Now, why would I go and do something like that, when this house is still solid? That would be a waste of good money, and good lumber. No, ma’am, this house was good enough for my grandpappy, and it’s good enough for me. I see no need to move, not after all these years.”
“You’re happy here, and that’s all that counts.” Eager to change the subject, Madison motioned to the couch. “Do you mind if I have a seat?”
“Nah, let’s go to the kitchen. That’s where my computer is.”
He led her across the room and through another door. The kitchen was a strange mix of old and new. A shiny stainless-steel refrigerator stood next to an ancient gas-powered cast-iron stove. The fancy brushed stainless faucet cost ten times as much as the aluminum sink beneath it. Madison knew. She had the same faucet at her house, compliments of HOME-TV.
From the looks of his home, it appeared that Nigel Barrett never replaced anything until it was worn out or broken. At least he had no qualms about buying quality replacements.
His kitchen table was long and cluttered. Madison suspected he ate his meals at the far end, the only spot not littered with papers, notebooks, and such. A laptop took residence on the opposite end of the table, with an ergonomic chair and a flowered cushion.
“This is where I do my work. Here are the notes I wanted to show you.”
“How long have you been working on your family tree?”
“Just a few months. But I found the old family Bible, if that helps. It has the birth records in it.” He pointed to the thick, leather-covered tome. “You can take that with you.”
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it while it was in my possession.”
“Unless you plan on coloring the papers or ripping them out, I reckon you can’t do it too much damage.”
“Of course not. I’ll take good care of it, and bring it back as soon as I’m finished,” she promised.
He motioned to one of the chairs. “Take a load off. You can tell me what you found out about my niece and great nephew.”
“Nothing!” Madison cried in surprise. “You just sent me the information this afternoon. I haven’t had a chance to look them up and confirm the relationship yet, Mr. Barrett.”
“But you looked up the first names I gave you, right?” He gave her a sharp look.
“Yes, sir, but you do realize these aren’t guaranteed matches, don’t you? Just because you share DNA doesn’t mean they are close relatives. They can be cousins, many times removed.”
“Still, check them out and get back with me as soon as possible.” He practically barked the words.
“I’ll do
my best.”
“That’s what I’m counting on, young lady. You came highly recommended, or else I wouldn’t have hired you. But I figured being Bertha and Joe’s granddaughter, you must be okay.”
Madison murmured the right responses, thanking him for the opportunity, but silently she wondered if the man could get any more cantankerous. She didn’t remember him being so crotchety when she was younger.
“I’d like to ask you a few more questions for clarification purposes.” She pulled out her notebook and pen. “Please tell me your parents’ names and dates of birth.”
“It’s all there in the Bible,” he said.
“Okay. And your siblings?”
“That’s all there, too.”
Madison stared down at her empty page. So far, he hadn’t given her a single tidbit. “What can you tell me about your siblings? Where are they now?”
“Most of them are in the family plot up on that hill yonder. Three of them died during the blizzard of ’34.”
“We had a blizzard? I didn’t know it ever snowed that hard here.”
“Not a snow blizzard,” he corrected. “A dirt blizzard. I was just a babe, but they tell me it was a mighty storm. A bone-dry summer, and then a strong wind came out of the west. The fields were fresh plowed for fall crops, and that wind came in and flattened it like it was West Texas. The winds blew so hard, and stirred up so much dirt, there were dirt drifts four feet tall. The twins were buried alive, and one of my sisters couldn’t breathe, the air was so thick with dust. My granny went blind, and so did their best mule.”