“My God, why have you forsaken me?”
That sentiment, more even than the image of the lost sheep, pinpointed Kate’s feelings about Mavis Bixby. Did Mavis feel forsaken, wherever she was? Did it bother her that no one in Copper Mill knew where she had gone? Or had Mavis intended it that way? Her use of the general-delivery address at the post office seemed to indicate that. At least when she met with Gail Carson to see Mavis’ house that afternoon, she could get a final answer on whether anyone knew how to contact Mavis. Surely the real estate agent would know. If she did, then the mystery would be solved, and the most pressing question for Kate would be whether there was any way the church could raise the money to buy the house. But if Gail didn’t know how to reach Mavis . . . well, then, that would be another matter entirely.
Kate was lost in her thoughts when the doorbell sounded. Startled, she looked toward the front door. She glanced at the clock. Who on earth would come calling at this hour?
Of course, there was only one person who would feel free to show up on the pastor’s doorstep at the crack of dawn. And that person had to be Renee Lambert.
Grateful that she’d already showered and dressed, Kate set her Bible aside and rose from her chair.
Paul stuck his head out of the bedroom. “Who’s at the door?” He’d just stepped out of the shower. His hair was wet, and he was wearing his navy terry-cloth robe.
“I’ll give you one guess,” Kate said with a sigh. She pasted a smile on her face and went to answer the summons.
“Good morning, Renee.” Kate opened the door despite her natural inclination to run and hide.
“Good morning, Kate. I trust you and the pastor are up and about already.” Renee wore a bright green velour tracksuit. She had Kisses clutched in her arms instead of stowed in his usual designer bag.
“Yes, thankfully, we’re already up.” Kate decided not to mention that Paul was still in his bathrobe.
“Well, I won’t bother you for long. But I did have a particular matter I wanted to speak with you about.”
“Me?” Rats. Kate had been hoping Renee’s beef was with Paul.
“Yes. It shouldn’t take long to discuss. By the time you brew some tea, we’ll be done and can just chat.”
Kate tried to squelch a sigh. She knew she might as well resign herself to the interview, because when Renee had something on her mind, nothing short of divine intervention could shake it loose.
Well, no one had ever accused Renee Lambert of not knowing what she wanted.
Kate invited Renee to take a seat in the living room, and then she bustled around the kitchen, filling the teapot and setting out a cup for Renee. She could hear Renee talking to Kisses, and evidently they truly did communicate, because the spindly-legged little dog yipped in response at the appropriate points.
By the time Kate returned to the living room with the tea, she wasn’t surprised to see Renee settled into the most comfortable chair in the room.
“Here we are,” Kate said, setting the tray on the coffee table in front of Renee. She’d made it just the way Renee liked it—loose-leaf Earl Grey, three cubes of natural sugar, and warmed half-and-half.
Renee tucked Kisses into the wedge of space between her hip and the arm of the chair and reached for her teacup.
Aaack. The little dog made a hacking sound of protest at being set aside, but Renee ignored him.
“I’m sure you know why I’m here.” Renee’s bright red lips enunciated each word clearly before she paused to sip her tea, leaving a dark lipstick imprint on her cup.
Kate sipped her own tea before answering. “Actually, I have no idea what’s on your mind this morning, Renee, but it must be important to bring you out here this early.”
Subtlety was entirely lost on Renee Lambert. “Early? I’ve been up since four. Mother likes to get an early start, you know.” She paused to stroke Kisses’ head. “Half the day’s gone already.”
Kate’s gaze darted to the clock on the mantelpiece, which was about to chime a quarter past the hour. There’s no point in arguing with her, she reminded herself silently.
“Well, what can I help you with today? The schedule for the altar flowers? Do you need a program for the next women’s meeting?”
“I’ve come to speak with you about your behavior at Betty’s Beauty Parlor on Saturday,” Renee said with a sniff. Beside her, Kisses snuffled at the edge of the cushion, looking for any stray crumbs that might reside there.
“My behavior?” Surprised, Kate tried to remember anything untoward she’d done.
“Yes, well, I don’t think I need to tell you that a minister’s wife, like the good wife in Proverbs, must be above reproach.”
“Of course.” Where was Renee going with this?
“Then I’m sure you’ll want to rein in this tendency for gossip you displayed on Saturday.”
“Gossip?” What had she done other than inquire about Mavis Bixby?
“Mrs.Bixby’s private affairs are no one’s concerns but her own. Besides, those women in that shop don’t need any more encouragement to tell tales.”
Kate swallowed her first reply, which was to point out that Renee was always as eager a participant in gossip as any woman who ever crossed the threshold of Betty’s Beauty Parlor.
“I don’t see how inquiring after Mavis Bixby amounts to gossip.”
“What possible reason could you have for wanting to know her whereabouts?”
Oops. Here Kate was stuck. She didn’t want to share her thoughts about potential uses for Mavis’ house before she’d had a chance to discuss them with Paul. Kate sipped her tea again, an effective stalling tactic until she could decide which tack to take with Renee.
“I wasn’t aware that simple Christian concern might be misconstrued as gossip,” Kate said in a kindly but straightforward manner. She’d learned from experience not to allow Renee the upper hand in a discussion like this.
“Unless you have some compelling reason for inquiring after her, then it certainly amounts to idle talk. And you know what the Scripture says about that.”
Kate knew it was time to draw this interview to a close. For some reason, Renee was perturbed with her for inquiring about Mavis Bixby, but she’d bet dollars to donuts that Renee’s pique had nothing to do with piety. No, Renee was uneasy about her inquiries for another reason. If only Kate could find out what it was.
“I’m sorry if you were upset by anything I said at the beauty shop,” Kate said in the most pleasant tone she could manage. “I certainly didn’t mean to distress anyone.”
Renee set her cup on the coffee table, scooped up Kisses, and rose from the chair. “Yes, well, now that you know how your behavior as the pastor’s wife affects the rest of us, perhaps you’ll take more care in the future.”
“I will certainly bear that in mind,” Kate said, but her patience was wearing thin. She followed Renee to the door. “I wouldn’t want to induce gossip in any way.”
Renee turned toward her, a hand on the doorknob. “Paul may be something of a native son around here, but you’re a big-city girl and need to learn our ways,” Renee said with the mixture of asperity and kindness Kate had come to expect from her.
Really, Kate marveled that the top of her head didn’t fly right off sometimes when she was dealing with parishioners.
“I’ll do my best, Renee,” she said quietly while at the same time trying to let go of the frustration rising in her throat. Paul had reminded her on numerous occasions since their arrival in Copper Mill that the most interfering people in a congregation usually had something else going on in their lives. Renee was a widow who was caring for her ailing mother. Her life wasn’t easy.
“Well, then, I guess no more needs to be said on the matter. Have a good day.” And with the clicking of her high heels on the slate entryway, Renee was gone.
But as Kate watched the older woman bundle herself and Kisses into her huge pink Oldsmobile, she couldn’t help but wonder what the real reason behind this sunrise visit
might be. Renee had said she was barely acquainted with Mavis, but this early morning call had spoken louder than her words.
Renee knew something about the mysterious Mrs.Bixby—something she didn’t want Kate to find out. Kate crossed the living room and picked up Renee’s teacup from the coffee table. She took it to the kitchen and was rinsing out both cups when Paul appeared at her side.
“So, what did Renee want so early?” He tugged at the collar of his button-down shirt beneath his blue blazer.
Kate turned and brushed his hands aside so she could straighten the recalcitrant collar.
“Renee? Just lecturing me on proper behavior for a minister’s wife.”
“Not much on her social calendar today, huh?” Paul grimaced. “Thanks for being patient with her.”
Kate patted the lapel of Paul’s blazer and smiled. “No problem. I learned from the master.”
Paul dropped a kiss on her lips. “I’m off to the church. Not sure if I’ll be back for lunch. What are you up to today?”
Kate hesitated, unsure if she wanted to tell Paul about her appointment with Gail Carson at Mavis Bixby’s house.
“Errands, mostly. And I’ll probably drop by the library to see Livvy and look up a few things on the Internet.”
Like many folks in rural areas, they only had dial-up access at their house. For any serious Web surfing, they had to use one of the computer terminals at the library.
“All right. I’ll see you about suppertime, then.” He gave her a quick hug and left the kitchen.
Kate sighed and wiped down the counter one last time. Even after all their years of marriage and ministry, she still struggled sometimes with how much of her own worries and burdens to share with Paul. Goodness knew he had a lion’s share of church troubles to bear, and she didn’t want to add to them. But she also didn’t want him to think she was keeping anything from him. And strangely enough, she found herself holding back more of her thoughts from Paul now that he was serving the small Faith Briar Church than she’d done when he’d pastored his much larger church back in Texas.
Kate bit her lip and reached into the freezer to set something out to thaw for dinner. She wondered if any minister’s wife ever found just the right balance between sharing and holding back. Well, if someone had, that person ought to write a book. It would be a runaway best seller—at least among minister’s wives.
Chapter Five
Gail Carson arrived at Mavis Bixby’s home promptly at one o’clock. Paul had called Kate earlier to say he would be attending a meeting of the Copper Mill Ministers Association at the Smokeshack.
As Kate walked across the lawn between her house and Mavis Bixby’s, she smiled at the thought of Paul and his clergy cronies elbow-deep in ribs and sauce. She suspected that this gathering was more to support their barbecue habit than for spiritual edification. Still, the group worked well together, whether volunteering as on-call chaplains for the hospital in Pine Ridge or coordinating the joint Vacation Bible School sponsored by all the churches. Spending time with other ministers hadn’t fit into Paul’s overly booked schedule back in San Antonio.
“Good afternoon, Mrs.Hanlon,” Gail called as she emerged from her long black Lexus. She wore a stylish black pantsuit and had a wireless earpiece on. With her Kate Spade handbag and expensive blond highlights, Gail wouldn’t have looked out of place in Nashville or Atlanta.
“Hello, Gail. Please, call me Kate. Thank you for taking the time to meet me today.”
Gail smiled. “My pleasure. You didn’t say the church was thinking of moving you all to a new house.” She extended a business card to Kate. “If you need someone to list the current parsonage, let me know.”
Kate flushed. “Oh dear. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression. I’m here for my own reasons, not on behalf of the church.”
“But you are interested in the Bixby house?” Gail waved a hand toward the neat white clapboard home that sat well back from the road. The bushes along the front of the house needed trimming, and the black shutters were past due for a new coat of paint, but all in all it looked very good for a home that had been vacant for more than a year.
“Yes,” Kate replied, striving to be honest but also not to reveal too much. “I am interested in the house, but I should have been more forthcoming with you. I’m interested in the house for the church’s purposes, but I haven’t really discussed my thoughts with anyone yet. So I can’t really say I’m here on their behalf.”
“Ah.” Gail nodded conspiratorially. “Reconnoitering, huh? Well, I can respect that.” She motioned for Kate to follow her up the sidewalk to the front door of the house. “I’m sure you can be very persuasive. And I know Mrs.Bixby is eager to find a buyer.”
Finally, someone who had actually spoken to the elusive Mavis Bixby.
“I thought she’d been gone for over a year,” Kate said, trying to affect a disinterested tone. “And the house is just now coming on the market? I wonder why she didn’t sell it earlier.”
Kate didn’t want to come right out and ask Gail Carson if she was in touch with Mavis Bixby.
“I have no idea what the delay was. It’s all been handled through a lawyer in Chattanooga.”
Kate’s heart sank. The Realtor had been her last hope for pinning down the truth about Mavis’ departure. “So you don’t know how to contact her?”
“No. I’m afraid not.” Gail selected a key from the ring in her hand and opened the door. “And the lawyer would, of course, protect his client’s confidentiality. A strange bird, Mrs.Bixby, but I’ve certainly dealt with people who were far more eccentric.” She looked back at Kate over her shoulder. “Or not dealt with them, as the case may be.”
Kate tried not to appear overeager as they entered Mavis Bixby’s dormant house. The front door opened directly into the living room, which, to Kate’s surprise, was fully furnished. The brick wall on the far side of the room was dominated by a fireplace, complete with andirons. Fading yellow-striped wallpaper had begun to peel at the seams, but the large-checked curtains that framed the windows across the front of the home gave the room a cozy feel.
“Is the furniture included in the price?” Kate asked.
“Yes. I guess Mrs.Bixby was moving to someplace that was already furnished.”
Gail walked through the door on the far side of the living room, and Kate followed. To the left a hallway led to what Kate presumed were the bedrooms. Directly in front of her lay a small dining area with a round table and chairs. To the right, through another doorway, she could see the kitchen.
“I know,” laughed Gail, seeing the expression on Kate’s face. “Not enough room to swing a cat, as the saying goes. It’s small even by Copper Mill standards.”
Kate traced the walls of the dining area with a critical eye. She walked through the doorway into the kitchen and was delighted to find it larger than she’d expected. What must have once been a service porch had been incorporated into the kitchen itself, and there was easily enough room for three or four people to work at the counters, sink, and stove. An ancient refrigerator sat in the corner, and tucked into the service-porch area were a small washer and dryer.
“It’s nothing fancy,” Gail said, “but Mrs.Bixby kept it all in good order.”
They proceeded through the rest of the house. In the lone bathroom, cracked tile and a stained bathtub testified to the age of the home. The first bedroom held a full suite of furniture, but in the second bedroom, only a desk and chair had been left behind.
“What do you think?” Gail asked.
At the same moment, the Realtor’s cell phone rang, the melody to Ravel’s “Bolero” blaring from the tiny device. “Sorry. I won’t be a minute.” She held up one finger as she backed out of the bedroom and walked down the hallway.
Kate took the opportunity to inspect the room more closely for any clues about Mavis Bixby. Technically, she was probably snooping, but it was for a good cause, she assured herself. The harvest-gold pile carpet had see
n better days, and flat spots here and there indicated where other pieces of furniture had been.
Kate glanced over her shoulder but couldn’t see Gail. The Realtor must have gone to the living room or even outside to finish her call. Kate crossed to the desk and opened the middle drawer. A few capless ballpoint pens and random paper clips rattled with the motion, but otherwise the drawer was empty.
Drawer by drawer she explored the rest of the desk, with the same result. The left bottom drawer, though, stuck a bit when she tried to close it. She dropped to her knees and reached through the opening. Her fingers felt around the dusty wood, but she couldn’t find the obstruction until she stuck her whole arm into the drawer. She felt the bottom of the drawer above it, and her fingers encountered paper instead of the expected wood. Puzzled, Kate withdrew her hand and then slid the top drawer from its tracks. She turned it over to inspect it.
The obstruction was an envelope taped to the bottom of the drawer. One end had been dislodged, and the loose edge must have caught the other drawer. The envelope was sealed, to Kate’s dismay, the address sprawling across the front in shaky, old-fashioned script.
Kevin Baxter
15730 Templeton
Chicago, IL 54588
There was no return address. Kate remembered Tony at the post office confiding that Mavis only used general delivery. So the lack of a return address fit with what she’d learned so far. But again she wondered why an elderly woman would feel the need to be so circumspect about her mail. And for that matter, why had this letter never been posted?
Kate was pushing the drawer back into place when Gail came hurrying back into the room. “So sorry,” she said. The woman stopped, confusion and then wariness crinkling her well-made-up eyes.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. She frowned as if Kate was a child she’d caught stealing a candy bar from the Mercantile.
“I was just . . . um . . . admiring the desk.” Kate pasted on a smile and patted the piece of furniture next to her. “They don’t make them like they used to, do they?”
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