Alpaca Lies (Bought-the-Farm Mystery Book 5)

by Ellen Riggs

  “I do know. And you know I hate cajoling you. That’s why it pains me a little to tell you that the women at the recital the other night were quite jealous of your skills. They said you’re a natural.”

  She waved the cold claw again. “They’re probably saying José gives me private lessons. I know how women think.”

  I was guilty of thinking the same thing, unfortunately. “It doesn’t matter what they think. José has only been in town a month and unless you’ve had previous training I don’t know about, you truly are a natural.”

  Standing a little taller, she put one red pump forward and struck a pose. “I always loved dancing. In fact, your father and I met at a—” She stopped abruptly. “Never mind.”

  José did one last number with two other couples and everyone, including Cori Hogan and even Keats, stood still to watch. Their grace and skill were utterly mesmerizing. It might very well look striking against the backdrop of the farm and the hills, but Alvina’s antics inside the pasture—the hopping, bucking and mad dashes—simply didn’t jive. I never claimed to have an artistic aesthetic, but I was quite sure about that.

  All the performers left the dance floor and gathered around Mom, Jilly and me. Once Keats felt he could stand down on livestock supervision, he moved to my side. His muzzle lifted as he did an assessment of the crowd and nothing seemed terribly amiss. After a few moments, he shifted to position himself squarely in front of Mom. When José tried to get around him, the dog kept shifting and a less graceful man might have stumbled.

  “Your dog is very protective of Dahlia,” José said, smiling at me. “It’s adorable.”

  His accent was back now that Cori’s attention was elsewhere.

  “Keats is adorable,” I agreed. “Mom’s his favorite, next to Jilly.”

  Jilly stepped forward now. “You must come inside right away. Once you cool down, you’ll catch a chill. There’s a roaring fire and hot cider.”

  As we filed to the house, I noticed that Bridget, Cori and Evie had already packed up the van and were ready to leave. Cori flashed me a black thumbs-up and mouthed, “Good luck.”

  I doubted I’d need it. Not this time. These guests seemed warm, friendly and decidedly more animated than any we’d welcomed before. There was laughter and teasing, and one of the men—tall, bald and surprisingly supple—lifted and spun a woman on the path. She very nearly clipped my mother in the chin with her stiletto, but Keats moved Mom out of harm’s way and delivered her to me.

  “That was deliberate,” I whispered. “She tried to kick you.”

  “Don’t be silly, darling. We haven’t even met.”

  “Well, I know it and Keats knows it, so watch out for stray stilettos.”

  “You suspect trouble everywhere,” Mom said.

  “That’s because there is trouble everywhere.”

  “Only here on this farm.”

  “Our last bout of trouble was at your salon,” I reminded her.

  Jilly held the door open for us as we entered the house last. “Will you two stop bickering and remember you’re co-hosts?”

  That made my eyes widen. “Co-hosts?”

  “Well of course, darling.” Mom’s voice was melodious again. “I don’t consider myself a guest, even though I’m spending my first night under your roof. I’m sharing hosting duties with you because I know these people best.”

  “You just said you don’t know them at all,” I said. “Which is it?”

  “I know José quite well, obviously, and since these are his long-time friends, I suppose we’re hosting as a couple. More or less.”

  I closed my eyes briefly, knowing exactly how this was going to go. Mom would swan about lording this beautiful home over the people who had better dance moves. Her ego needed its own guest room.

  Once we’d gathered around the big fireplace, José slipped a possessive arm over Mom’s shoulders and introduced her to his friends. They had all driven hours to be here and seemed to hang on José’s every gesture. Even the men.

  “You have a beautiful home, Ivy,” said Collin Morgan, the bald man, as he shook my hand a little too hard. “And it was wonderful to dance with the master again. Well worth the drive from Millbrook.”

  “So wonderful,” said Arlene, the woman who’d nearly kicked Mom. Her platinum hair didn’t match her bun, but her blue dress was the exact shade of her sharp eyes. At least what there was of the scant fabric. “Our loss in Everly Falls was definitely Clover Grove’s gain.”

  Stacia, whose hair was coiled in a coronet, murmured agreement as she offered her fingertips. “There’s never been another like José in Smithfield, either.”

  “Or Cedar Ridge,” said Maeve, the remaining woman. She, too, had a twist of gray hair and a wisp of silver fabric covering her lithe body. I could only hope to be as fit as these people when I reached middle age, but farm work made me strong, not sinuous.

  The last man, James, had plenty of gray hair and a normal handshake. “I had the shortest drive, from Brenton, but I’m happy to be staying. It’s good of you and Jilly to have us on short notice.” Mom cleared her throat conspicuously and he added, “You too, of course, Dahlia. How wonderful that you and José hit it off so quickly. It’s not easy to find the right dance partner.”

  The voices of all three women overlapped as they agreed.

  “I haven’t danced at all since José left,” Maeve said. “The men dropped out of our club and I can’t even remember the last time there was a proper dance outside the big cities.”

  “Same here,” Stacia said. “Collin and I meet up sometimes at a studio in Smithfield but it gets expensive to rent space. And a big part of the appeal is being with a crowd. It’s such a magical feeling when everyone is moving in unison.”

  Jilly had gone into the kitchen and now returned carrying a tray of pretty antique teacups filled with steaming cider. People sipped in silence for a moment, and then Arlene said, “That was simply wonderful… dancing under blue skies. I hope we can repeat it tomorrow without the gloved tyrant.”

  “Lovely idea,” Mom said, flicking her eyes at me.

  “It’s calling for rain, I’m afraid,” I said. There was no way I’d put my animals through the strain of loud music and spinning bodies again. As Charlie, my farm manager, always said, “Calm livestock, calm life.”

  Stacia flung out her arm. “This room is a little small but it’ll do in a pinch. We’ll dance after dinner.”

  “The floors,” Jilly muttered beside me. “The heels.”

  “Perfect,” said Mom, our co-host, letting José spin her. “How fun.”

  “You really must share José, though,” Stacia said. “No offense to Collin and James, but few have José’s proficiency.”

  “Of course,” Mom said, with a magnanimous smile. “I’d love to dance with James and Collin, too. We haven’t been able to entice any men to our club here in Clover Grove, I’m afraid. But we’re hoping this video will change that. Our goal is to make ballroom dancing seem fun and accessible.”

  “Yes, well,” Arlene said, with a chilly smile. “The camel is certainly a common touch.”

  “Alpaca,” I said. “We don’t have a camel. Yet.”

  “Ever,” Jilly said. “Honestly, Ivy, don’t even put that out in the universe. Whenever you do that, the animal always arrives.”

  “There are worse things than a camel,” I said, grinning. “Like an ostrich.”

  Her blonde eyebrows shot up. “Oh my gosh. If you get a giant bird I’m going to fly, too.”

  “Ostriches don’t fly,” I said. “But they can run like the wind, I hear.”

  “Dahlia?” Jilly said, turning to my mom for support.

  I followed her eyes and saw Mom and José gazing at each other in silence. They were having “a moment” right there in the middle of a crowd. She was carrying a torch for the alpaca slapper.

  Before I could interrupt that moment, Arlene did it for me. “José,” she said, a little louder than necessary. “Are you really settling
down in this backwater town?”

  I’d driven through Everly Falls and it wasn’t exactly a thriving metropolis. In fact, it had none of Clover Grove’s quaint charm.

  “Please tell me you’re coming back through Cedar Ridge,” Maeve said.

  “And Smithfield,” Stacia added.

  Their voices were plaintive. José was obviously catnip to the ladies.

  “Ladies, I’ll visit from time to time, I promise,” he said. His features were nice, I grudgingly admitted, particularly his jawline and his smile. I would imagine his eyes were riveting if you didn’t know he slapped animals.

  “How did you two meet?” Maeve asked. “In class?”

  Mom shook her head, giggling. “José came into my salon for a classic barbershop shave and left with a new student.”

  “Girlfriend,” he corrected, seemingly unaware of the wilting of netting all around him. He took her hand again, spun and dipped till Mom’s hair dusted the soon to be pocked hardwood.

  “Oh my,” Mom said, once she was upright. “It’s all been dizzying.”

  “I like the town and the studio is perfection,” José said. “If I can attract enough clients, I will most certainly stay.”

  His arm tightened around Mom’s shoulders and I expected her to ease out from under it. She’d been alone too long to enjoy being squeezed that hard. I knew she felt trapped in a hug because I’d felt the same way… until Kellan.

  Instead, Mom actually leaned into José, offered the room a beatific smile, and said, “I have no doubt we’ll attract a crowd in no time.”

  We? Was she a “we” now? Earlier she’d said José was just a regular guy in her rotation. She was probably just lording it over the competition. At least I hoped so.

  “We have a bigger plan, too,” José picked up. “Every couple of months we’ll hold weekend events so that you can all come and dance your hearts out in Clover Grove.” He gestured with his free hand. “We’ll make Runaway Farm our headquarters.”

  “Wonderful,” Jilly said, before whispering to me, “We can resurface the hardwood.”

  Mom glanced at me and her expression seemed triumphant. I supposed it wouldn’t kill me to toss her a smile if she was going to bring me regular business, but I wasn’t thrilled about any of it. I couldn’t be when Keats was parked on her pumps like he had reason to protect her.

  “Let me show you to your rooms so you can get settled before dinner,” I said. “Jilly’s prepared a grand fall feast.”

  “Yes, let’s get changed,” Stacia said. “It really is quite chilly.”

  James and Collin looked at each other and shrugged. They were both in fitted white shirts and black slacks, just like José.

  “We’ll start moving out the furniture,” James said.

  Jilly fluttered around them like an anxious hen. “Be careful,” she said. “Don’t hurt your backs.”

  “Glad you signed waivers,” I joked as I led everyone else out of the room and up the wide oak staircase to the guest wing.

  “Ivy,” Mom said. “No one appreciates your humor. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “Not as much as you wish it would.” I flung open the door to the first room and gave her a gentle shove inside. There were only two rooms in the inn with single beds. Mom was assigned to one, and José the other.

  If they wanted to dance, they could do it in the dismantled family room with Keats as chaperone. I wouldn’t need to ask him twice. He walked into Mom’s room and flicked the door shut with one white paw.

  Chapter Six

  My head was pounding when I woke the next morning and at first I thought the salsa music was still playing. The party had started by eight and gone on long past two a.m. I’d only been able to sleep by turning on the air conditioning unit in my room to block the noise. That meant wearing a parka, toque and mittens to bed to stand the cold. Keats, who never shared the bed because he liked to pace and listen for incursions, had finally curled up in a tight ball with Percy at my side for warmth. When I did finally drift off, it was into a dream where the three of us went winter camping and were sound asleep when a polar bear attacked.

  I sat up and tried to shake off the lingering horror. “Boys, we slept through a bear attack in my dream. Can you believe it?”

  Keats leapt away from Percy as if embarrassed to be caught snuggling with his frenemy. He shook himself all over and then went to the window, stood on his hind legs like a circus dog and whined.

  I glanced at the clock and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “You’re right, buddy. We’d better get down to the henhouse and gather the eggs before Jilly wants to start breakfast. She’s doing an elaborate frittata that calls for dozens.”

  Percy moved into the spot I’d vacated and licked his chest before curling into a ball again. Although the cat didn’t like to miss anything, he was slower to get going on cold mornings. There were blooms of frost on the glass that would have warned me to put on my warmest clothes, had I not already been wearing them.

  “On the bright side, I don’t need to get dressed,” I said, trying to shove strands of staticky hair under the toque. The wool mittens only made matters worse. “Also on the bright side, the guests will likely sleep late. They’ll be worn out and hung over.”

  The female guests had come down to dinner wearing different yet equally skimpy ballroom dance dresses. Mom didn’t get the style memo, so she was overdressed in a red knit dress that wouldn’t cut it on an ice rink. Her lips puckered in a pout that didn’t ease until José twirled her through the empty family room and made sure her faux alligator pumps were the first to damage the shiny hardwood.

  Jilly tried to hide her own pout as the guests mowed through dinner like woodchippers. The meal she’d spent hours planning and preparing wasn’t savored or even noticed. It was mere fuel for the main event, which was the dance to follow. They waved away dessert, but accepted champagne. Mom and José whirled through a foxtrot, the mambo, and other dances I didn’t know, before allowing the others to join. After that, the floor was never empty. They’d step in and out to replenish fluids with so much wine that Jilly began to worry we’d go dry.

  Mom was never a big drinker and had stuck with soda, perhaps worried she’d be sidelined or even injured by the guests. Seeing she was too jittery to co-host in any true sense of the word, I finally called my sisters one by one to help babysit so that Jilly and I could grab enough shuteye to function today. Poppy was last on my list because she was least likely to be available and most likely to join the party instead of helping. Desperate times called for desperate measures however, and when she came through, I realized she was actually the best sister for the job. Poppy was the most capable of keeping Mom’s ego in check, and their sharp verbal barbs clashed against the armor they shared. Jilly and I finally retreated upstairs with Poppy circling the floor like a matron at a school dance. She had a hiking pole under her arm and told me she wasn’t afraid to use it.

  “Keats, I’m worried,” I whispered, opening the bedroom door. Every door was closed and all was silent. “That bear attack wasn’t just a dream. It felt like an omen.”

  The dog looked up at me with his eerie blue eye glowing in the dim light. He mumbled something affirmative and nudged my hand to let him go down the stairs first.

  He stopped on the landing and we looked over the bannister. The long leather couch was taking up most of the hall, having been relocated from the family room. On one end, Poppy was curled up sound asleep. At the other, Mom sat with her head back and faded red lips hanging open. A gentle snore filled the air. There was no one else in sight, so I assumed everyone had made it to bed unscathed.

  I signalled for Keats to lead me past them to the kitchen, where I tucked my flannel pajamas into my work boots and stepped out the back door.

  Sucking in a deep, frosty breath, I let it out slowly as we walked around the house. It was still dark and would be for a good hour. That’s what I hated more than the cold and we had a long way to go before the days started get
ting longer again. In the city, I’d barely noticed the seasons pass… the years pass… the decade pass.

  That realization gave me the mental slap I needed. I wanted to experience my days fully now, and that meant embracing the seasons. It meant being grateful for what I had, which was so much more than I ever imagined.

  “It’s going to be an interesting day, Keats,” I said, picking up the pace. “Mom’s going to have a crick in her neck from sleeping in that position, but I bet she’ll still try to dance it off later. At least Poppy kept her word. I wondered if the place would be trashed.”

  Keats mumbled something back, but it wasn’t our usual banter. He had business on his mind. The dog didn’t like getting a late start. Restless animals were reckless animals, and it made his work harder.

  There was a sudden bright blur as a fluffy comet cut Keats off in a blatant invitation to play. Percy had caught up and somehow squeezed past me on the way out. Normally Keats would indulge the cat with a chase just to warm up for the day. Today he dodged Percy easily and started trotting. Instead of trying again, Percy fell in step with the dog. Both of their tails—usually happy flags in the morning—were lower than half-mast.

  “You’re worrying me, boys,” I said. “Where’s the joy?”

  Collecting eggs was my easiest and most peaceful chore. The soothing clucks of more than 40 hens drowned out the incessant spinning of my thoughts. Things could—and often did—go wrong later in the day, but after one violent incident in the henhouse, it had become a bastion of calm again.

  Keats and Percy stopped at the same moment and both heads swivelled. I turned, too, but didn’t hear anything. My furry companions were already heading toward the sound when it finally reached my ears: a dull roar that got louder by the second.

  I knew that sound and it was generally welcome… later in the day.

  “Oh, come on,” I said. “It’s barely six. Can’t a gal get a moment to herself before a busy day?”

  The answer came thundering through the field, headlights piercing the darkness. The vehicle was going far too fast and the lights bounced with every rock or small hill. The driver could surely see the obstacles but seemed to relish them.