Because of Ronda’s extraordinary ability to back-comb, her mostly older clientele overlooked her tendency to use a lot of words ending in a long e. Plus, she never minded when her clients canceled or switched their appointments.
Renee sniffed. “I don’t know who you mean.”
“I didn’t recognize the gentleman.” Kate decided to jump in with both feet before Betty turned on the blow-dryer to style her hair. After that, she wouldn’t be able to hear any conversation over the noise of the dryer.
“Oh, he’s just a friend.” Renee waved a hand in the air.
Kisses looked up, growled, then put his head back down.
“A special friend?” Ronda could tease equally well with words or a comb.
“Special friend? Special friend!”
Kate thought she might see steam coming out of Renee’s ears at any moment, especially considering how red her face had turned.
“Why, I never—”
“Oh, I’m just teasing you, Mrs.Lambert.” Ronda laid a hand on Renee’s shoulder, whether to calm her down or to keep her from bolting from the chair, Kate couldn’t tell.
“Impertinence!” Renee huffed, but she settled back down into the chair.
Kate watched her, a little concerned but also a little intrigued. She’d never seen quite that response from Renee before. Kisses, still in his fuzzy purple sweater, looked perturbed at the commotion.
Betty set down her comb and moved to Renee’s side. “Would you like some tea, Renee? I’m sure Ronda didn’t mean anything.” She shot a forced smile at the young stylist. “I have a nice chamomile that’s very soothing.”
Renee sniffed. “If you don’t have any Earl Grey, I suppose that might do.”
“I’ll take some tea as well, Betty, as long as you’re making it,” Martha said. She smiled at Kate. “So, did you find out anything more about Mavis Bixby?”
Kate swallowed the groan that rose in her throat. Martha was a kind woman but about as subtle as a hand grenade.
“Really, I was just interested in her house,” Kate said, hoping to ward off Renee’s wrath at the mention of Mavis Bixby. She hoped her words didn’t sound as tight as her lips felt.
Martha leaned forward as if drawing Kate into a conspiracy, even though the whole shop could hear their conversation. “I still have to wonder about Agnes Kelly’s husband.” She cocked her head. “Don’t you?”
Kate paused, in a quandary. She couldn’t announce what she knew about either Agnes Kelly’s husband or Mavis’ situation without violating the privacy of the former or the possible safety of the latter. She could feel all eyes in the shop on her, and she frantically cast about for the right thing to say.
“I always find it easier to assume the best about people,” Kate said, trying not to sound prim or preachy. “Don’t you?”
Martha looked bewildered for a moment, and then she harrumphed and picked up an old copy of Redbook magazine from the small table beside her.
“And what do you assume about Mavis Bixby?” Renee asked.
Kate looked at her in surprise.
“Everyone says that she moved to be with family,” Kate answered. “They’re probably right.”
“But you’re not convinced?”
Kate tried to look innocent. “I’m not sure it’s my place to be convinced of anything. I don’t even know Mrs.Bixby.”
Renee’s eyes narrowed, regarding Kate much as Kisses regarded the squirrels in the town square. “You don’t think she ran off with Edwin Kelly?”
Kate’s still-wet scalp prickled at the intensity of Renee’s gaze. What was going on here?
“I try not to listen to gossip.” Again, Kate hoped she didn’t sound holier-than-thou. “Although I have to admit that I’m not always successful.”
At that moment Betty returned from the back room, tea tray in hand. She paused beside Kate, looking for somewhere to set down the tray, but there weren’t many available surfaces in the crowded little shop.
“Here, Betty.” Kate reached for the tray. “I’ll hold it on my lap so you can pour.”
By the time Renee had her cup of chamomile, and the rest of the shop had also received their tea, Kate’s hair was practically dry of its own accord.
“Sorry,” Betty whispered in her ear as she spritzed Kate’s hair with water. “But I need to keep Renee and the other regulars happy.”
“No problem. I understand,” Kate said, and she did, really. But she was also frustrated. She was finding out firsthand the truth of Paul’s point—just exactly how much damage idle beauty shop tales could do to someone’s reputation.
If poor Mavis Bixby ever did come back to Copper Mill, she’d be labeled a hussy the moment she set foot inside the city limits.
Chapter Fifteen
Kate! Wait!” Renee Lambert came hustling out of Betty’s, hot on Kate’s heels. Kate paused with her key in the lock of her Honda Accord.
“Yes, Renee?”
“So you don’t believe them? Martha and the others? About Mavis Bixby and Agnes’ husband?” Renee wheezed from the short dash from the beauty shop to Kate’s car. Even Kisses seemed winded.
Sometimes Kate forgot just how old Renee actually was. She always seemed to have the energy of a much younger woman.
“I don’t have any reason to believe them.” Kate kept her words dispassionate. She was curious as to why Renee was pursuing the matter when she so obviously disapproved of the gossip about Mavis.
“No one’s given you any other kind of reason for Mavis’ departure?”
“What do you mean?”
For a moment Renee looked flustered. “Well . . . That is to say . . . I know you’ve been asking questions about her around town.”
Suddenly a shiver ran down Kate’s spine. Renee’s questions weren’t casual. In fact, it seemed that she was pumping Kate for information. Curious and more curious . . .
“I was really more interested in her property.” Kate did her best to appear nonchalant. “Since the house is next to the church, it might be useful—”
“We haven’t even finished paying for the sanctuary yet.” Renee had no qualms about interrupting. “And the parsonage has a perfectly large living room if we need extra meeting space.”
Kate wanted to put her head in her hands and groan, but she refrained. “Yes, but with the building of the hotel, the church is landlocked now, except for the side the Bixby house is on.”
“Maybe in the big city, people think that way.” Renee shifted Kisses and his bag from one arm to the other. “But here in Copper Mill, we know our limits. We know what’s proper.”
Paul often said that half of a successful ministry was annoying the right people. At the moment Kate was succeeding gloriously.
“I’m just thinking about possibilities, Renee. Being open to new things isn’t a bad idea.”
“Ideas can be dangerous.” Renee’s painted-on eyebrows knit together. “People can get in a lot of trouble over ideas, especially newfangled, big-city ones.”
Kate thought there must be some subtext to the conversation that she was missing. “I’m sorry? I don’t understand.”
“No good ever came out of big-city doings. You can just ask Ma—” She clamped her lips shut.
“Just ask who, Renee?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” She looked up at the clock tower in the town square. “I’m late for my next appointment.”
Kate opened her mouth to stop Renee, but then she thought better of it. The older woman had certainly tipped her hand. Renee Lambert knew far more about Mavis Bixby than she had let on.
And it made Kate wonder even more about the stranger Renee had been talking to. But before Kate could ask any more questions, Renee whirled around and marched away.
KATE HAD ALWAYS BEEN a very sound sleeper. Even Paul’s gentle snoring didn’t normally keep her awake. And in his absence, like tonight, she slept like a proverbial baby. So when she woke with a start, and her alarm clock read two o’clock in the morning, she was surprise
d. Then she heard the sound of footsteps in the direction of the kitchen followed by a soft bang. Her heart began to bang far more loudly in her chest.
She flipped back the covers and reached to switch on the lamp on her nightstand, but she stopped herself. She didn’t want whoever was in the kitchen to know she was awake. Unbidden, she heard the voice of the anonymous caller. “Mind your own beeswax.” At that moment, heart in her throat, Kate wished she’d followed his advice.
“Keep a cool head, Kate,” she whispered to herself even as she wished Paul was sleeping soundly beside her—as he would have been almost any other Saturday night of the year. Had the person who’d called her known that?
She grabbed her robe from behind the closet door, and, slipping into it, cinched the belt around her waist like a warrior preparing for battle. She wished she had Andrew’s old baseball bat or even Rebecca’s warped tennis racket. Instead, all she had were her wits.
The banging continued, and Kate could have sworn she heard the clanging of her favorite copper pots, which hung from the rack above the counter. The banging was followed by the slam of cabinets opening and closing. A burglar looking for a midnight snack?
Kate crept toward the bedroom door and slowly, gently turned the doorknob. She opened the door a few inches and peeked out.
Light streamed through the doorway into the kitchen and across the cavernous living room. A shadow fell across the carpet as the intruder moved around the kitchen. Could she sneak past whoever it was and grab her cell phone? Or should she simply snatch up her purse, fish the car keys from the bottom, and run for her car? She could go back and use the phone in the bedroom, but if the intruder heard her talking and came to investigate, she’d be trapped.
“Ouch!” A man’s voice.
The fear icing her veins multiplied in intensity. Carefully she slipped around the bedroom door, not wanting to open the door too wide and risk setting off the squeaky hinge she’d been meaning to coat with WD-40. Step by cautious step, Kate made her way across the living room, her blood thrumming in her ears. She had no idea what to do, but she couldn’t cower in her bedroom, waiting to see what the intruder might do.
Inch by inch, she crept across the wide expanse of the living room to the kitchen doorway. Finally she reached the entry and slowly, carefully leaned forward to peer around the door frame. Her heart was beating so wildly, she thought it might come out of her chest.
The intruder was wearing a blue parka and a stocking cap. Brown paper grocery sacks lined the kitchen cabinet, and the man was pulling cans from them.
“Paul Hanlon! What in the world are you doing?”
Relief, along with adrenalin, poured through Kate. She didn’t know whether to be angry or thankful. Paul whirled around.
“Kate!” He took one look at her face and his own paled. “I’m sorry, hon. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at the retreat!”
“I know, I know. But right after dinner, I had a breakthrough. I think I finally remembered the missing ingredients from my mother’s chili recipe. So I left, stopped by the twenty-four-hour SuperMart in Pine Ridge to pick up a few things, and came home.”
Kate opened her mouth and then closed it. Then she did it again. Her husband had lost his mind.
“I know it seems crazy.” He pulled the stocking cap off his head and shrugged out of his coat, tossing them on a kitchen chair.
“Seems crazy?” she managed to say through gritted teeth. “You scared the life out of me.”
Paul crossed the kitchen and took her in his arms. Kate went, but reluctantly.
“I really am sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Kate rested her forehead on his shoulder and sighed. “Paul, this is getting ridiculous. It’s just a chili cook-off.”
He stiffened and dropped his arms from around her. “It’s important to me, Kate. Just like your stained glass is important to you.”
“Important enough to scare your wife half to death?”
“I said I was sorry.”
Silence filled the impasse. Kate swallowed back the words of frustration that tried to escape. She’d always known that men generally had one-track minds. They couldn’t multitask the way women could. Maybe it was social conditioning. Maybe it was hardwired into their biology. But in any event, it was enough to drive women crazy.
“I didn’t mean to be a shrew.” Kate reached over and rubbed his arm. “I guess I went a little crazy when I heard someone in the kitchen.”
“Who else would it be but me?” Paul looked at her, blue eyes darkening with concern. “It’s not like Copper Mill is a hotbed of criminal activity.”
She was silent just a moment too long.
“Kate? What aren’t you telling me?”
Now it was her turn to be on the defensive. “Nothing. Really.”
“Well it must be some kind of nothing to make you think that someone’s breaking into the parsonage.” His gaze pinned her to the spot. “Okay. Out with it. I’ve known you long enough to read between the lines.”
“What lines?”
“The lines of worry on your forehead.”
“It’s not nice to tell a woman she has lines on her forehead.”
“Well, it’s not nice to keep secrets from your husband either.”
Kate walked around him and reached for the kettle. “I’d better make some tea.”
By the time the water boiled and the decaf Earl Grey had brewed, Kate had filled Paul in on the details of the two threatening phone calls. He wasn’t happy with her, she knew, but he also wasn’t condemning her for not telling him.
“I know this matter of Mavis Bixby is serious, Kate. And I certainly don’t fault you for wanting to help the woman. But this kind of thing—these phone calls, the man in the leather jacket—these are the kinds of matters the police handle. Not minister’s wives.”
They were seated at the kitchen table, both cradling mugs of tea in their hands.
“You’re right, of course.” But Kate couldn’t let go of the matter now. Every instinct was telling her that Mavis Bixby was in trouble. “It’s just that Sheriff Roberts isn’t going to do anything.”
“Doesn’t sound like there’s anything he can do.”
“And Renee Lambert is acting funny about Mavis.”
“Renee acts funny about a lot of things, Kate. Are you sure she knows anything more than those beauty shop tales the ladies are passing around?”
“I think so.”
“But you don’t know for sure.”
“She was talking to a stranger today on the town square.”
Paul grinned. “Well, then she must be up to no good.”
Kate had to laugh in response. “All right, all right. I know I’m taking this all very seriously. Maybe too seriously.”
“I do wish you would take those phone calls more seriously.”
“But they confirm what I’ve been saying. There’s more to all this than Mavis simply leaving town to be with family.”
Paul was quiet for a long moment. The ancient refrigerator chugged and hummed, filling the silence. “I hate to admit it, but you’re probably right about that.”
“Then you won’t be upset if I keep pursuing the mystery?”
He sighed and pushed his mug away from him. “I can’t promise not to be upset, but I won’t object as long as you take reasonable safety precautions.”
“Such as?”
“Such as keeping me informed. Always telling someone where you’re going and when to expect you back.” He wiped a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I’m even saying this.” He sank against the ladder back of the chair. “Who would have thought that danger could lurk in an out-of-the-way backwater like Copper Mill?”
Kate sipped the last of her tea. “I think it lurks everywhere, honey. It was just easier to overlook it in a big city like San Antonio. We were more insulated in a way.”
“You’re right.” His eyes flew to t
he groceries on the counter. “And here I was thinking my biggest worry was getting the right ingredients for my chili.”
Now that she had his support, Kate could smile about the chili. “My offer of help is still open, Mr. Stubborn.”
And Paul could smile too. “I know. But I think I’m close. That’s why I left the retreat.”
Kate picked up their empty mugs, rose from the table, and crossed to the sink. “And you explained your departure to your colleagues how?”
Paul looked sheepish. “Family emergency.”
Kate had to laugh. “Well, it’s a good thing I figured out who you were before I hit you over the head with a frying pan. Then there really would have been a family emergency.”
Together, they finished putting away the groceries, but when Paul pulled out the skillet as if he were planning to start on his newest batch of chili immediately, Kate grabbed his arm.
“I think it’s time we both gave it a rest,” she said. “We old folks need our beauty sleep.”
He opened his mouth to protest but then stopped. “All right, Mrs.Hanlon. You win. A man should know when to admit defeat.”
“Absolutely,” Kate agreed, biting back another smile.
“Absolutely?” Paul said in mock indignation. “Now I can’t let that kind of remark go unchallenged.”
Kate decided that if her husband wanted to punish her with kisses, she wouldn’t object. She was just glad he was home, he wasn’t an intruder, and she didn’t have to hide anything else from him about Mavis Bixby.
Chapter Sixteen
Renee Lambert’s next visit to the parsonage came at a more socially acceptable time. Rather than her usual daybreak arrival, Renee pulled up to the house in her pink Oldsmobile, Kisses ensconced in the passenger seat, at ten o’clock Tuesday morning. Kate heard the car in the driveway and peeked through the living-room curtains. To her credit, she didn’t groan or otherwise give an indication of her reaction to the arrival of the pink Olds and its occupants.
Kate opened the front door, stepping out onto the porch to greet her visitor. “Good morning, Renee.”
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