“I’ll pop in to see Betty in the morning,” I said. “Maybe she’ll have one of her German chocolates on hand.”
“This bakery just opened downtown,” Monica said, rubbing a sticky spot off the table with her nose turned up. “They have the most incredible Italian cream cakes. Oh, and chocolate ganache, and this white chocolate cheesecake with white chocolate brandy sauce.” She groaned and rolled her eyes like she could taste it on her tongue.
“Why didn’t you bring one with you?” Andy asked while I was becoming more and more irritated by her clear intention of one-upping everything Metamora had to offer.
“I should have!” she said. “Next time. Unless I convince Cam to move back with me.”
I was just about to let out a groan of my own when my phone rang. It was Mia.
“Grandma Irene is driving me crazy,” she said, “and my dad says I have to come stay with you since I’ll be eaten alive by the monster you let live at the gatehouse if I stay with him.”
Happy birthday to me.
I told Mia to come by in the morning, downed my drink, and was ready to go.
“Party pooper,” Cass said. “Come on, have another drink. You only turn forty once.”
“Don’t remind me.” I stood and gave her a hug. “Thanks for celebrating with me.”
“See you tomorrow, hotshot director,” I said, giving Andy a friendly punch on the arm.
“Tomorrow we paint!” he said.
“And eat cake,” I reminded him.
On the way out, I had to make a pit stop in the ladies’ room, which was right beside a storeroom where Melody had cornered the bartender. Neither of them saw me, so I took my time going in the ladies’ room.
“Can you believe they asked me if I killed her?”
“You did hate her, Mel,” he said.
“So what! You’re her ex-boyfriend who was insanely jealous. You would drive by her house to see if another guy was there! That’s stalking! Did you kill her, Zach?”
“I did not stalk her!” he shouted, and bottles clattered like he dropped a case of beer.
I hightailed it into the restroom before I got caught in the crossfire, making a mental note to tell the Action Agency we had another suspect to check out: Zach the Bartender/Ex-Boyfriend.
Sometime overnight a little troll took up residence in my head and began mining his way out with a pickax. I knew morning was going to be ugly, but it hurt to blink. Vowing to never drink again, I shoved Gus and the twins out of the way and slipped out of bed to swallow about twenty aspirins and guzzle a gallon of water. I’d have killed for something greasy from McDonald’s.
Monica was already up, showered, dressed, and made up with liners and eye shadows—the works. “What?” she said when I gave her a dirty look. “I only had one drink.”
“Good. You can be in charge of my life today while I go back to bed.”
“You can’t go back to bed. It’s almost nine. Won’t your volunteer group be here soon?”
“I should send them to Irene’s,” I grumbled, pulling orange juice from the fridge. “She’s the one who got me into this whole phone bank thing in the first place.” That’s when I remembered Mia was coming to stay, and I leaned over and laid my head on the counter.
“What are you doing?” Monica took the OJ from me.
“Resting. This day is exhausting.”
The doorbell rang, the dogs went berserk, and then the door opened.
“Cam?” Ben called from the foyer.
“We’re in here!” Monica shouted.
“Too loud,” I said, easing myself upright.
Ben stopped in the entryway of the kitchen with the canine twins jostling around him, staring at me. He held a bouquet of red and white roses in his hand. “Rough night?”
“Something like that.” I could only imagine how I looked standing there with my tangled hair sticking out on end, wearing old flannel pajama pants that hit mid-calf and my ancient robe with penguins all over it. Not that it was anything Ben hadn’t seen a million times before, but after six months of not living together, it wasn’t the same. The comfort of having him seeing me first thing in the morning wasn’t there. I wasn’t used to it anymore, and that thought made my stomach feel even sicker. OJ was definitely a bad idea.
“These are for you,” he said, handing me the roses. “I didn’t know if red was welcome, so I had the florist mix in some white.”
I wasn’t sure if red was welcome either, but the clenching in my chest told me I didn’t really have a choice. If only I knew how to get us out of this mess we’d created. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
We stared at each other for a moment, trying to figure out what should happen between us next. Then Ben cleared his throat. “Mia’s out front talking to one of your volunteers. Nick, I believe his name was.”
“Oh. Nick.” My immediate reaction was to run to the door and yank her away, but I didn’t figure he’d murder her on my doorstep. Preferably, he wouldn’t murder her at all even if she was a big pain in my rear. I didn’t believe he was our killer anyway, so the need to protect Mia from him faded as quickly as it came on.
“I’ll put these in water,” Monica said, taking the bouquet from me. “Why don’t you go get dressed?” She gave Ben a conspiratorial wink. “I’m in charge until she can function again.”
“I’ll be fine once I have my coffee,” I said, turning to grab my big mug, and accidentally kicking Isobel. She barked and snapped at me, catching the toe of my slipper.
“Killer dogs everywhere you look,” Ben said, while Gus whacked him in the leg with his tail.
“Come on,” I said, darting a hand behind Isobel to grab her by the collar. “Outside.” I herded my pack of fur and fangs out the back door where they’d stay for the greater part of the day. Thank goodness it was summer. Winter would be a challenge.
“Can I talk to you in private for a minute?” Ben asked, gripping the back of a kitchen chair like it took all of his strength to ask.
“Sure. What about?” I glanced at Monica, who hustled out of the kitchen.
“I talked to my mom. She’s agreed to drop the lawsuit.”
“Oh, thank goodness, I—”
He held up a hand. “On one condition.”
“Of course. What’s her one condition? She gets to move back in?”
Ben bit the inside of his cheek. “Not her. Me.”
“What? How dare she interfere with our marriage?”
“I know. I know. I told her it wasn’t a fair condition. She said she doesn’t care if it’s not fair, that we can’t be separated forever, so we either get back together or get divorced, but we need to figure it out.”
“That’s not her call to make!” I ran my fingers through my hair, catching on a few knots and pulling, which only made me more upset.
“It’s not,” he said, stepping closer, “but I agree. I don’t want to be separated anymore, Cam. I don’t want to be divorced, either, but I’d rather do that than live with my marriage in the balance.”
My insides went hollow. “You want a divorce?”
“No. Not at all. I want to move on from this. With you. The dogs I can leave or take, but I want resolution. If we can’t work it out … ” He shrugged. “I want to try though.”
Temptation latched on to my lips, making me want to agree, to tell him to move all of his things back in and we’d go back to how we were when we were first married. But I knew better. I knew we had areas of our marriage to work on, even though I could only remember the good parts at the moment.
“I know we fought a lot after we moved here,” he said, tilting his head and glancing at me through his long lashes. My weakness. He could always wear me down with those lashes. “It was hard for you to move here, and I didn’t help. I went to work and figured you’d find your place.”
“And your mother,” I
added, not needing to finish the thought.
“My mother,” he said, nodding. “She doesn’t help matters. It was definitely easier living two hours away. I should’ve run interference for you. Told her to back off.” Ben took me by the hands and pulled me toward him. “Cam, I’m sorry. I dragged you here and figured you’d be as happy as I was. When you weren’t, I didn’t want to be bothered with it. I was busy trying to make myself indispensable to Finch and Reins.” He shook his head. “I’d rather be indispensable to you.”
A warm, sloshy sensation flooded my chest and brought tears to my eyes. Ever since moving here, Ben and I argued relentlessly about the lack of time we spent together and how I felt displaced and abandoned. He never saw where I was coming from. Now he finally had. “I wish it hadn’t come to this,” I said, as he wrapped me in a hug and squeezed me tight.
“It doesn’t have to come to this,” he said. “I’ll come home.”
I wanted him to, but six months apart was a long time. We couldn’t just snap our fingers and pretend our problems never happened.
I stepped back, straightened his collar, tried to wipe the wet drops of tears from his shoulder, then finally looked up at him. “Let me think about this. I’m not even out of my robe yet, Ben. I can’t think clearly with this headache, and my volunteers are homeless. We’re working out of here today. I’m trying to keep a lot of balls in the air, so give me some time.”
“Okay. There’s no hurry. I mean, as far as the lawsuit, there’s a timeline, but as far as I’m concerned, if you’re thinking about us, then I can wait.”
“Just a day or two.”
He took my hand and kissed my cheek. “Call me if you need anything, or if Mia gives you any trouble. Reins will probably stop by today. You can’t get out of being questioned.”
I slumped down in a chair and watched him stroll down the hall, through the foyer, and out the front door. Monica came back in from the living room, looking sheepish. “I might have listened.”
“I figured you would,” I said, sorting through the rest of the mail from the day before. There was a birthday card from Brenda and one from Soapy and Theresa.
“What are you going to do? You’re not going to stay in this place are you? If you let him come back, tell him it’s on your one condition: moving back to Columbus into civilization.”
I was really in no frame of mind for her newfound snobbery. Frankly, I felt a little snappish, like Isobel. “There is nothing wrong with this town. Ever since you stepped foot in the door last night you’ve been putting it down. I’m tired of it, so stop.”
She leaned against the counter and tapped her nails. “I thought you were sending out resumes to be able to move back?”
“I have.”
“And?”
“And I haven’t checked my email to see if anyone has responded.”
“Why on earth not?”
It was a good question. When I thought about being in Columbus, I thought about my time with Ben. The dates we went on, walking around the Short North Arts District, seeing shows at the Ohio Theater, dinner and movies at Easton and Polaris. It wasn’t a booming metropolis like New York City, but it was home. It was what I was used to. Those were the things I missed.
But Ben was here. I was here. What was waiting for me in Columbus?
Plus, I if I was being honest, I guess this place had grown on me at long last. I’d never met a group of neighbors who were closer, who had lived in the same town from one generation to the next for decades when there was nothing to stay for but nostalgia and tradition. They believed in their town. They loved their town, and I supposed I’d grown to love it, too. I wanted to see it thrive.
“This is home now,” I said, meaning it, even if I did have to drive to Brookville for McDonald’s.
• Ten •
Does working from home mean staying in your jammies all day, Cameron Cripps-Hayman?” Roy stood in my kitchen admiring my penguin robe. Everyone had arrived before I even had a chance to get dressed.
“No, Roy. I woke up a little late. Help yourself to some coffee.”
“I’m Cameron’s sister, Monica,” she said. “I’m in charge until she’s feeling better.”
“You’re not in charge. I’m fine. Just going to get dressed.” I hustled upstairs to change my clothes. If I were leaving anyone in charge, it would be Anna. “Mia!” I yelled behind me. “Come up here, please!”
She didn’t exactly hurry, so I was fully dressed before she knocked. “What?” she yelled through the door.
I opened the door and let her in, gesturing for her to follow me to the bathroom. “Your dad said you were talking with Nick.”
“So?”
“So,” I said, tearing a brush through my hair, “he’s too old for you, and he’s here because he was sentenced to do community service for assault. He’s not exactly someone your father or I want you to be hanging around with.”
“We were talking, Cameron. Talking. Okay?”
“As long as it stays just talking. Now, I need you to run to Grandma’s Cookie Cutter to get a cake. German chocolate if she has it. If not, let her pick.”
“Whatever.”
“And Mia? If you keep rolling your eyes they’re going to get stuck that way.”
She gave me a snort of derision and left the room. If she came back without a cake, I decided I’d toss her out back with the dogs.
Downstairs, Johnna had made herself at home with her knitting in my dining room. I should’ve locked up the silver before inviting her over. Of course, the upside of Johnna’s sleight-of-hand in my house was that there might not be anything left for Irene to take. She’d have to buy all of her cherished heirlooms back from Canal Town Treasures.
Roy had gone outside and was pestering Andy while he set up ladders and got ready to start painting the house. I probably couldn’t count maintenance work as approved service hours for Roy, but I had no desire to drag him back inside.
“The Action Agency line will be switched over in a day or two,” Anna said, sitting at the kitchen table with Logan.
“I called and said I was you,” Monica told me, making another pot of coffee. “I told you I could be in charge.”
“Okay, well, thanks for handling that.” I wasn’t sure I wanted my sister to impersonate me even if she was only being helpful. Her intention seemed to be controlling my life from every angle.
Nick stood at the French doors watching the dogs outside. “Want one?” I asked, sidling up beside him. “They’re free. Two for one if you want the twins.”
He chuckled but shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Anna was staring holes through my back, surely waiting for me to start asking Nick questions about his argument with Jenn Berg. But if there was one thing I’d learned from this whole situation, it was that I was a terrible detective. How does a person ask someone if they’re a murderer? I should know, I’d had my share of accusations flung at me over the past couple of days. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t do it. Despite my normal lack of tact, I knew what it felt like to be wrongly accused.
But what if I wasn’t wrong? Or what if I was right—I mean, what if Nick was the one who killed Jenn? I had every right to ask him. We got a tip on our action line; I couldn’t ignore it.
Logan stood up from the table and waved to a stack of poster board. “Anna and I made these in case you wanted us to post them around town to replace the other ones. They have your home number on them, so we won’t have any downtime while the phone company switches the tip line over. They say the first forty-eight hours in an investigation are the most critical, and we’re past that. I don’t think we should take a break because Reverend Stroup disrupted our command center.”
“Command center,” I said, liking the feel of the words rolling off my tongue. “You’re right. We can’t afford to lose any more time. You two go hang them up.”
If we were really and truly going to make a go of the Metamora Action Agency, then we had to be all in. Nobody could put us off of our goal of finding the killer. But what happened when my crew of volunteers fulfilled their assigned hours? How would I keep them on if the case hadn’t yet been solved?
What started out as making calls to reserve seats for the musical become so much more. Anyone could make calls to sell tickets, but it took a lot more dedication to help solve a murder. My crew was irreplaceable now, despite their shortcomings and annoyances. We had to hurry, not just because the forty-eight hour window Logan mentioned was over, but because this case had to be closed before any of them fulfilled their community service hours. Off the top of my head, that gave us about a week until they started dropping from my program—Roy first, followed by Nick and Johnna.
Logan and Anna hurried off, leaving me with a well-meaning sister and Nick, who I somehow had to bolster my courage enough to question.
Maybe after one more cup of coffee.
I’d just poured a cup when Mia’s screechy voice met my ears from out front. “Sounds like trouble out there,” Johnna called from the dining room. Her knitting needles clattered on the table, and she was hurrying across the carpet. For an old lady, she could move when she wanted to, and there was no way she was missing out on the commotion.
Monica and I followed her to the front door, Nick behind us. Mia stood in the middle of the front yard, cradling a cookie jar in one hand and a cake box in the other. Her eyes and mouth were open wide as she stared, aghast, at my house. “Grandma Irene is going to kill you!” she shouted at me. “How could you do this?”
I stepped farther out on the sidewalk and turned to see the offense. “Oh, she’ll grow to love it,” I said. “It’s pretty!”
Andy had painted one shutter and one board of the siding to test the paint colors: a bright sea foam green for the siding and lavender for the shutters. “It’s eye-catching,” Andy said. “Much better than that boring white. Anyone can have a white house.”
“But … ” For once, Mia was at a loss for words. She was even too horrified to roll her eyes.
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