by Tegan Maher
Camille held up a finger as she finished the back page, then flipped back through the rest of the packet, pausing on the third or fourth page. "It looks like they're notifying you that your birth father passed away, and this is a copy of the will."
"Yeah," Bobbie Sue said, "but what's with the name? It's all wrong. And some of the references don't make any sense; I've never heard tell of the people listed in there, includin' the name—Sandra—they keep referrin' to me by."
Flipping through them again, Camille said, "It could be that Sandra was your birth name, but it does seem odd. Do you know the circumstances surrounding your adoption?"
She shook her head. "All I know is Mama and Daddy took me straight from the hospital up in Atlanta. I never really had any interest in finding my birth family. Far as we were all concerned, I went home with them. I was theirs."
Rae started to say something when her gaze drifted over my shoulder then heaved a sigh. "Well look what the cat dragged in."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I SPUN ON MY STOOL to see who she was talking about, but I couldn't see through the crowd of people. Finally, Gabi poked her head around a mountain of a guy who was carrying two beers in one hand and a mixed drink in another.
"Hey ladies! Sorry I'm late." She slid a stool from another table over to ours and grabbed a beer from the bucket.
I glowered at her. "Nice to see you're alive. I've only texted you two hundred times today." I motioned between me, Rae, and Cheri Lynn. "We even made a special trip out the Mama Meanness's because we were so worried."
She cringed. "How did that go?"
Cheri Lynn grinned. "Better than what you'd likely expect. Though don't be surprised if she's gone full exorcism when you go home. Expect candles and holy water."
"Ohmuhgod. What did y'all do?" She glanced between the three of us, her eyes sparkling. "Please tell me it was somethin' awesome."
Since she'd had no escape, poor Gabi'd missed out on many of the school trips and parties because her mama wouldn't let her participate, which is a major reason she moved away to begin with.
"No," Rae said, "No funny stories for you 'til you tell us where you've been all day. We've been worried sick. Two dudes in cheap suits came into Brew flashin' your picture and we haven't seen hide nor hair of you all day."
She glanced back and forth between us and sobered. "Ferreal guys, I'm sorry. I went to the lake to think things through. I was walkin' on the rocks and fell in. I lost my phone when I did, and I guess time got away from me. I had a change of clothes in the car, so I changed and came straight here."
I couldn't nag her anymore because she looked so woebegone. "Fine. But I'm gonna tell the story so well you're gonna wish you'd been there."
"Oh, trust me, Sugar. If it involved the three of you, I already do."
Addy popped in just in time to hear it. Sure enough, by the time we finished telling the story, we were all laughing like lunatics again.
Bobbie Sue leaned in. "I wouldn't normally tell tales"—that was true; unlike most of the women in those parts, she tended to mind her own business—"but I don't know what happened to your mama. She was a wild child all through school. Smoked pot, skinny dipped, dated all the bad boys."
Gabi's eyes were the size of saucers and I snorted beer out my nose. "No!" she said. "Mama said Daddy, Lord rest his soul, was the first man she ever kissed."
Bobbie Sue rubbed her chin for a minute. "That may be true. She dated him in the eighth grade, but they broke up, and she sure did kiss a lot more boys between then and when they got married after graduation."
Addy nodded her head like a bobble-head doll. "That's the God's honest. That girl's been saddled more times than Seattle Slew."
The disbelief on Gabi's face was almost comical.
Cheri Lynn smirked. "Told ya she was hypocrite. I knew the minute I saw she wasn't wearin' any bloomers."
Gabi stuffed her fingers in her ears. "Lalalala, I can't hear you." She took them back out and glared at us. "Not another word about her not wearin' underwear. I did not want that visual." The smile slid from her face and she slumped.
"What's wrong?" Camille asked.
"Now I have to go home and listen to her. Man, she's gonna be on her high horse for days."
Shelby and I had discussed my next suggestion, but it hadn't really come up 'til now. "Why don't you just move in with us?"
We had six bedrooms at the farm and were only using four of them. Justin had his room and so did Rae—she'd had one since she was a kid, but only used it sometimes. She'd moved back in with her mom because it just hadn't made sense for her to pay rent when Aunt Beth had a house almost as big as ours. Plus, she was great company. Think Addy without the sharp edges. Oh, and a body.
Rae slapped the table. "Yes! That's the perfect solution!"
Gabi shook her head. "The entire reason I'm stayin' with Mama is because, with my car payment and insurance, I can't afford more than the five hundred bucks she charges me in rent. Otherwise I'da never moved back in. I was workin' off my rent at the ranch."
"Five hundred bucks!" I about fell out. "That's insane! You're basically paying the woman to treat you like crap. Help us with feeding and the stalls and throw me two hundred bucks a month toward utilities and I'll be a happy camper."
"Are you serious?" she asked. "For how long? I don't know when I'll be able to get a place of my own."
Normally, I wouldn't be so gung-ho for anybody to move into my space, but Gabi was different. She was practically family. She'd hung out at our place a lot when we were in school because her mom was so hateful, so I knew she didn't have any weird, repulsive rituals like getting up at six every morning just for the fun of it. Toothpaste in the sink, I could handle. Morning people, I could not. Besides, she'd have her own bathroom, so I didn't care what she did with her toothpaste.
"For as long as you want. As far as I'm concerned, you don't have to go home tonight. Wait 'til she's at work tomorrow to get your stuff."
Bobbie Sue smiled. "Looks like you've got a new place to hang your hat, kiddo. It'll be good for all of you."
We'd just cued up for a game of pool when Anna Mae strolled in looking guilty as a dog that just ate the Christmas ham, though I had no idea why.
"Where you been?" Camille asked. "Ms. Mondays start at seven."
She and Anna Mae had been sort of peas-and-carrots lately. Turns out after Anna Mae's husband did her the honor of kickin' the bucket and Camille pulled the stick out of her butt, they had quite a bit in common.
That suited me, because as much as I love Anna Mae, I was glad to give up my spot as her shopping partner. For the most part, if it didn't make you look good while you were on a horse—or now a motorcycle—I wasn't interested.
"I got tied up at the store." As soon as she said it, she patted her hair self-consciously.
"You mean, like, literally?" I said and waggled my brows. I couldn't help it.
"Of course, not literally!" She slammed her eyebrows down and glared at me, but her face was a lovely shade of beet.
I held out my hands. "Okay, okay. I was teasing." She was such an easy mark that I almost felt guilty.
Camille was making it a point to powder her hands with pool chalk and Bobbie Sue was grinning at Anna Mae's discomfort.
Rae edged closer to me and Cheri Lynn and we watched as Anna Mae texted something, then blushed when she looked up and caught us staring at her.
"What?" she said, stuffing her phone in her back pocket and doing her best to feign interest as Bobbie Sue took a shot at sinking the three ball in the corner pocket.
"Nothing," Rae said.
My conversation with Hunter drifted back to me and I pushed off my stool, catching Gabi's eye then motioning toward the ladies' room with slight dip of my head. She raised a brow, but set her cue stick aside and followed me.
Once the door closed behind us, I checked all the stalls, then turned to her, hands on hips.
"You think now might be a good time to tell me that you
used to date the stiff that showed up your horse's stall? The sheriff over there said you went out for months and it was serious."
She scrunched her forehead. "That's not true! It was like three years ago and we went out a handful of times."
"Enough times that you were apparently displeased enough to throw a bottle of hoof-black at him."
She cringed. "Yeah. That did happen."
She looked me in the eye and held her hands out, palms up. "It was only like the fourth time we would have gone out. He canceled at the last minute so I decided to go spend time at the barn and get a head start on prep since we had a show the next morning." She took a deep breath and curled her lip.
"Then he and Miss Trust Fund showed up and it pissed me off. But it wasn't like an oh, my God, you jilted me and I can't live without you scenario. It was a good, solid, you're such a dick and I hope you die pitch straight at his head."
I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes for a second.
"Well," she said, realizing what she'd said. "I should probably reconsider my verbiage before I give an official statement."
I nodded and ran my tongue over my teeth. "Yeah, I'd advise that."
Still, no matter how you painted it, it didn't look good for her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BY THE TIME THE NIGHT was over, Bobbie Sue was pretty much back on kilter, saying the packet didn't have any bearing on her life; after all, the man was dead. It wasn't like she could have a relationship with a ghost. Well, that wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility, but it was highly unlikely.
As far as the name, she said there wasn't anything wrong with Sandra except it wasn't hers. That was trademark Bobbie Sue—think, solve, move on.
We never did figure out what was going on with Anna Mae but we decided to let it slide for the moment. If she'd found somebody, then we were all for it. After the nightmare she'd lived through for so many years with Hank, she deserved happiness. That didn't mean we were gonna let it lie forever, though. Her pass was only temporary.
I texted Hunter as soon as we were in the truck to let him know we were on the way back to the farm. It wasn't twenty seconds before he texted back saying he'd meet us there. Even though it was late, he wanted to talk to Gabi because the other sheriff was going to call him back first thing the next morning. Hunter wanted his ducks in a row when he did.
Hunter was waiting for us in the kitchen when we got there and we barely stepped through the door before he started.
"What on earth were you thinking?" he asked Gabi, his brow furrowed. “Or more like, what weren't you thinking? You should have known this would come up."
She held up her hands and reiterated what she'd told me. "I didn't think anything about it because it was years ago and I haven't had jack to do with him since then."
While she was talking, we'd moved to the kitchen and settled in with iced tea and a box of day-old pastries. Hunter swallowed a bite of blueberry danish. "That's even more reason to say something. Now it looks like you were hiding something."
Gabi growled in frustration. "I didn't even really think about it until Noe brought it up, to be honest. It was that inconsequential. He was an idiot, but the only times I ever had to deal with him were when Sylvia and I would lunch together and he'd come to borrow money from her."
"Wait," I said. "He had to go to her for money? He didn't, like, have an allowance or something?"
"Sure he did," she said, picking a carrot-cake donut out of the box. "But he usually blew through that before the month was half out. Then he'd come to her with his hand out and try to explain it away. She knew he had a gambling problem though, and it was getting old. I can't blame her. She worked her ass off to build that place, and he spent her money like it was water. She couldn't even get him to help with any of the management end of it, where he wouldn't have to get his hands dirty."
"Just out of curiosity, what did she die from?" I asked, wondering if he'd offed Mama Moneybags in order to cut out the middleman standing between him and his big fat inheritance.
Gabi waved a hand. "I know what you're thinking, but she had bone cancer. She fought it hard, but in the end, she said life wasn't worth living if she was she spent all her time sick and weak. When they told her another round of treatments would only buy her time, not save her, she quit taking them."
A lone tear ran down her face and she brushed it away, sniffing. "She was a good egg. She taught me pretty much everything I know about the horse business, and believe it or not, that's quite a bit."
I hadn't really given it much consideration, because I just assumed it was just a place she worked rather than a job she loved. Show stables were notoriously hard-core with their employees. Long days, little pay, zero gratitude. I'd been wrong.
"Sylvia knew the name and situation of every person on those grounds from the top boarders to the kids who cleaned stalls and filled water buckets. She said it was not only smart to know who was handling your animals, but that people worked better when they knew they were appreciated."
A small smile curved her lips. "She was right. To the last man, every person there bled for that place when push came to shove."
"So," Hunter asked, bringing the conversation back to Marcus. "Is it possible his gambling caught up with him?"
Gabi huffed out a breath, her brows raised. She shook her head. "I don't see how. Lord, he inherited millions when she died. Just the farm and horses alone should have brought in seven or eight million, on the low end. And she wasn't cash-poor, either."
I lifted a shoulder. "It's been several months, though. If he had that much of a gambling problem, it could be a thing."
"I reckon," she said, "but that's some thing."
Hunter shook his head. "It seems like a lot of money to us, but remember—he may have had debt built up before she died. Bookies don't play, and if you don't pay on time, the "late fees" add up to double, triple, or even quadruple what the original loan was. He could have been millions in debt when she died, just paying enough to coast until they came knocking again."
"That seems like a much better motive for murder than a four-year-old lovers' spat," she said.
"Nope," he said. "Not necessarily. Remember, if he dies, they don't get their money."
Oh, yeah. Of course, it couldn't be that easy.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AFTER I DECIDED THE next morning I was going to keep the shop closed in order to finish the chairs. Tuesdays were always dead anyway, so I locked the door and slapped a sign on it instructing anybody to knock. With strange men in town and a murderer on the loose, the last thing I needed was somebody sneaking up on me.
Just because I'm a witch doesn't mean I'm a badass. Well, I can be, but not in a way that makes me invincible. After all, my magic only works when I'm not dead or unconscious. Better safe than tied up in a building that's about to blow up. That may sound specific, but it had happened recently, and I wasn't lookin' for a repeat.
During my weekend buying blitz, I'd picked up a cute little cafe table somebody'd painted a hideous green. That was better than okay, though, because I'd gotten it for five bucks. By the time I was done with it, it would pair perfectly with the chairs. I was already picturing the set on somebody's veranda.
I'd just turned the lock when my ears popped, a certain sign that a living-impaired person had arrived.
"Mornin' Noelle," Erol said before I turned around. I was glad for the ear-popping thing because otherwise, the store would have two dead owners instead of one. He had the same bad habit Addy did of just popping in, pretty as you please, with no warning whatsoever. Even though I knew it could happen at any time, it still startled me.
Cheri Lynn, bless her courteous little heart, had mastered the art of fading in so that a person had at least a few seconds advance notice, but she was the only one.
"Mornin' Erol. How was your evening?" He was all about the niceties, so I indulged him, both because I wanted him to be happy and because I didn't want to put him in a huf
f right off the bat. I'd learned shortly after I'd bought the store that, like me, he wasn't a morning person. That's why he'd owned a sandwich shop rather than a coffeehouse.
He dipped his head. "It was good, except for the cable flickered on and off some. I was right at the end of Chopped, and it cut out right when they did the final reveal." He scowled, reliving the moment. "It was a good one, too. The main protein was hippopotamus and the guy I thought would win cut his finger at the beginning of the round. A real nail biter."
I nodded my head and did my best to whip up some outrage for him because he obviously expected it. "That's a cryin' shame. Of all times for it to go out. I'll check the connections today. It rained last night, so maybe that's all it was."
"Thank you. I would, but ..." He held out his arms and looked at his transparent body, frustrated. Even though he'd been dead for almost a year, he'd hidden in the shop until just a couple months prior, when I'd bought the place. He was still having some problems acclimating to be bodiless. I couldn't blame him.
"So what are your big plans today," he asked.
"I'm gonna finish up the chairs and that little cafe table."
His eyes lit up. "Oh. Tell me you're gonna leave them black. I used to have the cutest little cafe set in Atlanta."
"That's the plan. The top of the table has tiles, so it's gonna be a pain to get those clean. Cross your fingers for me."
"Will you be a dear and put it on the news for me? I haven't caught up in a while."
I did, then headed to the back room to get to work. I'd been at it for a good hour and had the chair almost finished when my phone rang. I pulled off my gloves and slid my phone out of my pocket, surprised to see it was Skeeter, a good friend of mine who owned Skeeter's Automotive and Appliance Repair. He was one of those rare, all-around good guys.
"Hey Skeet. What's up?"
"Hey Noelle. I'm good. Somethin' weird just happened, though."