by Jessica Beck
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Look,” she said. “There are footprints on my porch, and I haven’t been home since yesterday.”
“Maybe it was the mailman.”
“My box is on the street,” she said.
“A neighbor worried about you?” I asked.
“I doubt it. Suzanne, something’s wrong here.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” I said as I walked to the door.
Grace nodded. “You’re right; I guess I’m a little jumpy.”
“Or not,” I said as I noticed that door was slightly ajar. “You locked up yesterday, didn’t you?”
“I always do, you know how paranoid I am about that,” she said. “Why? What’s going on?”
I pointed to the door and said softly, “Let’s go back to the diner and call the police.”
She backed up without saying a word, but from the expression on her face, I knew she wanted to scream.
We hurried back a dozen paces, then she said, “I’ve got my cell phone. I’m going to call from here.”
“I just realized that I have mine, too,” I said. “But don’t you think this is a call we should make with other people around? We’re kind of vulnerable out here in the street all by ourselves.”
“I don’t like this, Suzanne,” she said, her voice starting to crack.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said.
She reached into a deep pocket for her phone when I said, “Hang on a second.”
Driving up the road was one of our April Springs police cruisers, and I’d never been so happy to see one in my life. I threw out my arms and started waving frantically, so the officer would make no mistake that I was trying to flag him down and not offering an enthusiastic greeting instead.
It was Officer Grant, my one real friend on the force.
He pulled up to the lip of snow bracketing the road and rolled down his window. “What’s wrong, Suzanne?”
“It looks like somebody broke into Grace’s house,” I said as I pointed toward it.
He nodded. “Stay right there. I’ll check it out.”
Officer Grant somehow managed to pull the cruiser up over the piled snow, and I saw that the car had chains on its tires. As he got out, I started toward him, but he held one hand up for me to stay where I was as he unbuckled his gun and pulled it out.
Okay, I know when to take a hint, even if a direct order is lost on me at times.
Grace stood beside me in the cold, falling snow, but neither one of us said a word. I didn’t know about her, but I was bracing myself for the sound of a gunshot. After what felt like a lifetime later, the front door opened again, and Officer Grant came out, his revolver back in its holster.
He waved for us to approach, and we hurried toward him.
“Whoever was in there is long gone,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Grace asked.
He nodded. “Oh yes. I checked under every bed, and in all the closets. Trust me, he’s gone.”
“Could you tell if anything is missing?” I asked.
“No, the television’s still there, and I found some jewelry in the bedroom that looked valuable, along with four one-hundred-dollar-bills in the bottom of the case. You really should find a better hiding place for your money.”
“I keep meaning to, but I never seem to get around to it,” she said.
Officer Grant frowned as he added, “There are a few dirty dishes in the sink, and there’s a pillow and blanket on the couch. I’m guessing that whoever broke in just wanted a place to ride out the storm last night.”
“What if he comes back?” she asked, the edge of hysteria clear in her voice.
“When he sees that your lights on, he’ll move on to someplace else. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye on your house.”
“Thanks, but I won’t be staying here tonight,” Grace said.
I put my arm around her. “That’s not even an option. You’re coming home with me, remember?”
She nodded, then Grace asked Officer Grant, “Would you mind staying here a few minutes, just long enough for me to pack a few things?”
He nodded. “Sure thing. Just don’t take too long.”
“No problem there.”
She started inside, then said, “I know I’m being silly, but would you two mind coming into the living room while I pack?”
“We’ll be glad to,” I said, trying to be as reassuring as I could. “Now, let’s get you packed so we can head back to my place.”
Officer Grant and I did as Grace asked, and as we stood in the living room, I realized both of us were intently listening to her move around in the other rooms.
After a minute, I pointed to the front door and asked, “Is there something we should do about that in the meantime?” It was pretty clear from the inside that someone had forced the door open. The jamb was split, and a few shards of wood were on the floor.
He nodded. “We’ll barricade it for now, and use the side door when we leave. Give me a hand with this couch, okay?”
I nodded, and we shoved it into place, blocking the door as firmly as we could. Grace had a side entrance, and though we were going to have to muck through some snow to get out that way, it was better than leaving the front door wide open for another intruder to just walk on in.
“Do you really think that will discourage him?” I asked.
“I’m guessing he won’t come back. If he was interested in robbing her, he would have done it already.”
“And what if he was planning to sleep here again tonight?” I asked softly enough so that Grace couldn’t hear.
“Then he would have done a better job disguising his break-in. You didn’t exactly have to examine the lock to know someone had been there, did you?”
“No, it was pretty clear the front door was kicked in.”
“That’s my point. This guy isn’t a finesse criminal. He took advantage of your friend’s absence, and he’s long gone by now.”
“I hope you’re right.”
He nodded, and then the radio on his belt beeped, and he took it out in the kitchen so he could answer in private.
Grace came back in with an overnight bag and looked wildly around the room. “Where did he go? He left us?”
“Take it easy. He’s in the kitchen,” I said.
“I know I’m jumpy, but I can’t help it. I admit it. I’m rattled.” She looked at the couch in front of the front door, then added, “You’re kidding, right?”
“It was the best we could do on the spur of the moment.”
She shook her head. “Thanks for trying, but we’re going to have to do better than that.”
She reached for her phone book, and I asked, “Who are you calling?”
“Tim Leander. He does all of my handyman chores.”
I put a hand on the phone. “Don’t you think he’s probably busy right now handling emergencies?” I knew Tim was a mainstay in April Springs, keeping the town repaired and together with apparent ease. Tim was a master at fixing just about anything, and he was on speed-dial at our house, along with just about everyone else in April Springs.
“You don’t call this an emergency?” she said shrilly as she dialed his number.
“Tim? This is Grace. I need you.” She listened to his response, no doubt learning that he wasn’t about to drop everything.
Grace smiled at me a few seconds later as she said, “That’s great. I’ll see you in five minutes. And Tim? Thanks.”
After she hung up, I said, “Okay, now I’m impressed. I don’t know what you’ve got on him, and I’m not sure I want to.”
She shook her head. “Suzanne, he owes me a favor, and I decided there wasn’t going to be a better time to call it in than now.”
“What kind of favor did you do for him? Or do I even want to know?”
Grace laughed for the first time since we’d seen her busted front door, something I took as a good sign. “I should let you supply the reason yourself with that overactiv
e imagination of yours, but I’m not going to. Tim needed some advice once, and I supplied it. It’s as simple as that.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Details, girl; come on, I’m listening.”
Grace wouldn’t tell me, though. “I can’t, Suzanne. I promised, so don’t ask.”
“Okay, I can respect that,” I said. “But I’ve got to admit, you’ve got my curiosity roused.”
“Some mysteries in life aren’t meant to be explained,” she said as Officer Grant rejoined us.
“Ladies, we need to go. I’ve got an emergency call on Oakhurst.”
“You go on,” Grace said. “We’ll be fine now.”
“I’m not leaving you alone here,” he said in a voice that left no room for debate.
“We won’t be. Tim Leander is on his way,” Grace said. “Will you help me move the couch back before you go?”
He nodded and added a grin to the mix. “Absolutely, if it keeps me from trudging through the snow.”
We pushed the couch back to its original position, and Tim knocked on the door as Officer Grant reached for the handle.
“Come on in,” he said. “I was just on my way out.”
Tim, a heavyset older man with a head full of gray hair, nodded as he said, “I imagine you’re a little busy today.”
“Right back at you,” Officer Grant said.
“A little snow is always good for business,” Tim agreed, and then Officer Grant was gone.
Tim said, “Good afternoon, ladies. Let me see what we’ve got going on here.” He studied the splintered door frame like it was a Picasso, then said, “I can make it hold for now, and then replace the jamb after things settle down. Does that suit you?”
Grace asked, “Will it keep whoever broke in out?”
He nodded. “I guarantee it. I can’t say it will work throughout the house, but he won’t get back in through this door.”
“That’s all I ask,” Grace said.
“Let me get a few tools from my truck,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
As he walked out to his pickup, I said, “You’d never know the town was in turmoil all around him, would you?”
“That’s what I like about him. He’s so calm all of the time.”
Tim came back with large canvas tool bag filled with a cordless screwdriver, a well-worn handsaw, a hammer and chisel, and a piece of wood a little bigger than the one someone had shattered. As he removed the remnants of the old wood with his handsaw, I swear I heard him whistling.
“You don’t mind if we watch, do you?” I asked.
“No, ma’am, I never said ‘no’ to an audience.” Then he looked at me and grinned. “But if you start giving me advice on how to fix this, the bill starts to double by the minute. I like to call it my irritation tax.”
“I won’t say a word,” I said. “I promise.”
In no time at all, he had the new jamb piece in place—drilled to accept the locking mechanism as well—and I wondered if it was really just a patch. “Do you really have to replace that later?” I asked as he started putting his tools away.
“It’s solid enough for now,” he said as thumped the new wood with his hand. “But it’s not a very elegant fix, is it? Don’t worry, when I get finished with it, you’ll never know it was broken.”
Grace reached for her wallet. “How much do I owe you, Tim? I’ll pay whatever you ask. I’m so grateful you came over here so quickly.”
He said, “It was my pleasure. As to the bill, you know better than to ask.”
“I have to pay you something,” Grace protested.
“The debt I owe you is beyond payment,” he said.
“You don’t have to do this,” Grace said.
I swear, he winked at her. “Don’t have to. Want to.”
After Tim was gone and Grace tested the lock a few times, I said, “You really aren’t going to tell me what’s going on, are you?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“I just ask one thing, then.”
Grace looked at me expectantly. “What’s that?”
“If I’m ever in a jam, will you use your pull for me?”
She laughed as she grabbed her overnight bag. “I’m not making any promises. Let’s go.”
“Hey, it was worth a shot,” I said.
By the time we got to my house, it was clear that Grace was feeling better about the break-in, but I couldn’t blame her for being upset. I hadn’t lived alone for more years than I cared to remember, and though I doubted my mother could defend me in a break-in at our place, it was good to know that someone else was there all of the time.
Grace didn’t have that, and though she was a strong, independent woman, I had to believe that a roommate would be better for her, even if it was just a pet.
No one should live alone, in my opinion. But it was her life, and I wasn’t going to butt into it.
Well, no more than I already did.
HOT CHOCOLATE SUPREME
Some folks might think it’s silly to bother with a personalized hot cocoa mix when there are so many good products readily available, but I worked on this recipe for months until I got the perfect explosion of flavor. It’s an easy recipe to make, so during the next cool evening, give it a try!
INGREDIENTS
• 2 cups non-fat dry powdered milk
• 3⁄4 cup granulated sugar
• 1⁄2 cup Hershey’s Cocoa, natural unsweetened powder
• 1⁄2 cup Special Dark Hershey’s Cocoa, Dutch Processed powder
• 1⁄2 cup powdered non-dairy creamer
• A dash of salt
DIRECTIONS
In a large mixing bowl, combine all of the dry ingredients and mix well until thoroughly blended. Store in an airtight container until you’re ready to use it.
When you are, put 1⁄4 cup of the mix into a mug, then add 3⁄4 cup of hot milk and stir until the powder is dissolved. Marshmallows are optional.
CHAPTER 5
“Come on, you two. You’ll catch pneumonia if you stay out there too long.” As expected, Momma was thrilled to see that Grace was with me. Oddly enough, as Grace and I had walked down the road toward my house, the snow stopped suddenly, and I swore I could feel the temperature drop with every step. We’d taken a short cut through the park—not the most prudent decision—sinking into the drifting snow, but avoiding the longer walk around to the front of the house.
“Can you believe it stopped snowing?” I asked my mother as Grace and I took our jackets off by the back door.
“I have a feeling it’s only a temporary lull,” she said as she looked outside at the gray clouds.
“You could be right. Would it be okay if Grace stays with us again tonight?”
“I just assumed she would,” my mother said with her gracious southern charm.
Grace asked, “Are you sure it’s okay, ma’am?”
“Child, I’ve been cooking all day with every intention of having you with us. If you didn’t show up, I was going to send Suzanne after you.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
We’d decided not to tell Momma about the break-in at Grace’s house on the walk over. There was no need to worry her unnecessarily.
Momma stared hard at me for a few seconds, then asked, “Suzanne, is there something you want to tell me?”
“You look nice today,” I said, wondering if she’d heard anything I didn’t want her to know, which could be just about anything.
She scolded me, “You didn’t say a word about what happened at Grace’s house. Are you trying to shield me from the world again? Young lady, need I remind you that I was handling things before you were a glimmer in my eye? I’ll continue to do so for the rest of my life. You should know better than hold anything back from me.”
I smiled. “You know, I really should. I don’t know why I’m so surprised that you already knew about what happened. This town has one big mouth.” I wanted to know who had said anything to her, but the time for subtle
interrogation was long gone. “Who told you, anyway?”
Jake Bishop stepped out of the dining room and smiled at me. “I did. I heard it on my radio while I was having coffee with your mother.”
Jake was tall and thin, with sandy blond hair that made me want to run my fingers through it, but I wasn’t about to do that at the moment. He’d been distant lately, not making nearly enough effort to spend time with me. I knew he was busy, but so was I, and I was willing to make changes in my schedule for him. Well, as long as it didn’t interfere with my donuts. And that pretty much took a big chunk out of every day, seven days a week. Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been as one-sided as I liked to think.
I gave him my best hug, but he didn’t reciprocate nearly enough to satisfy me.
Then I looked into his eyes, and I knew there was something going on.
In a somber voice, he asked, “Suzanne, do you have a minute? I need to talk to you about something.”
“Uh oh,” Grace said softly beside me, a sentiment I wholeheartedly agreed with.
Momma said, “Grace, come help me with the mashed potatoes. I’ve got too much to do in that kitchen by myself.”
“Glad to,” Grace said.
Before she and Momma disappeared into the kitchen, my mother asked, “Will you be staying as well, Jacob?”
“No, ma’am, I have to be in Asheville tonight, so I need to get going soon. Thanks for the offer, though.” There was a drawn look in his eyes that told me he wasn’t there to deliver any good news.
“You know that you’re always welcome here,” she said, and then it was just the two of us.
“What’s wrong, Jake?” I asked, wondering what made him look so solemnly at me.
“We need to talk,” he said flatly, and I felt the bottom suddenly drop out of the day. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m so sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”
“Which means it’s really me,” I said. “Go ahead, I’m tough. Tell me the truth. You owe me at least that much.” I felt my tears start to come, but I forced them to at least wait until he was gone.
I could swear that he was going to cry, but that didn’t make sense. After all, he was the one ending it.