by Joy Avon
Peggy looked up at her. Her left hand found the mug and closed around it because she wanted to feel its searing warmth. “I can’t do it. I just wish that Quinn hadn’t done that, hadn’t said that. Now I’ll have to tell him I can’t see him anymore.”
Her expression tightened, and Callie was sure she was going to cry again. Her heart clenched for her unhappy friend who so deserved a little joy in her life.
But Peggy controlled herself with the greatest effort and stared into her tea.
Callie wasn’t quite sure what to make of what she had said but she did recall how nervous Quinn had been when she had met him. Today was Valentine’s Day and—oh no.
Had he maybe expressed his feelings for Peggy, and …?
Callie stirred her tea, even though there was no sugar in it, and looked at the vortex her spoon formed all the way to the bottom of the mug.
“Why did he have to do that?” Peggy asked again. “It was going fine. Him coming here for dinner, playing with the boys, doing a chore here and there. Us having lunch when I came from Book Tea and him from the community center. It was all going fine.”
Peggy’s free hand formed into a fist. “He should just have accepted what he could get. Friendship. Being a part of something. Togetherness. The feeling life was getting better again. That it wasn’t all cold again, but maybe could be a little warm and have some colors. But”—her fist banged the table—“he wanted more. Stupid …” She sucked in a breath.
Callie waited, still not sure how to respond. A thousand thoughts rushed through her head, but she couldn’t decide which one was the right one.
If there even was a right one.
Peggy said, “I know it’s Valentine’s Day and all, but that didn’t mean he had to—he even got me a present.” Her voice broke, and she sobbed into her hands.
Callie took a sip of tea. It was so hot it burned her tongue. She put the mug down and ran her hand over the tablecloth.
“Nobody gets me presents like that since Greg died,” Peggy said in a strangled tone. “When he gave it to me, it was like it was the old days again. Like I could be happy again. But that isn’t right. It isn’t.” She pressed her clenched fist against her mouth.
Callie wondered if Quinn, on giving Peggy a present, had smiled and leaned down to kiss her. It seemed like a quite natural thing to do. But apparently it had totally unnerved Peggy. She hadn’t seen it coming, or maybe, deep down inside of her, she had but had avoided thinking about it, confronting the issue.
Callie glanced at the photo album, the smiling couple looking out into a life together. Believing they could conquer it all as long as they held on tightly to each other.
She said, “How did you meet Greg anyway?”
Peggy looked up. A smile flickered over her exhausted features. “On the beach. He was surfing. He loved water. That’s also why he joined the Coast Guard. The sea was everything to him. He never believed he could control her. He always told me she was a fickle mistress, giving and taking as she wanted. He knew how dangerous it was. But he had to go anyway. That was just his way.”
She smiled tenderly down at the wedding photo. “I knew when I married him that he might someday … you know, but you put it out of your mind. I was sure he was careful. Especially after the boys were born. He loved them to bits—he would never leave them.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m sure Greg did everything he could to be safe during missions. But when there were lives at stake, he lost sight of his own safety. He wasn’t reckless, but he also wouldn’t hesitate to take a risk if he believed he could save a life.”
She looked up. “He saved three teens that night. Silly kids had gone out in a boat, no idea of boating, no clue as to the weather or the undertow. Without Greg and his colleagues, they would have died for sure. Greg dove deep to drag up the third one. He’d heard it was dangerous because there was wind and the sea was so rough. But he had to do it anyway. He got hit by some planking.”
Peggy sat there, the tears still on her lashes, her eyes staring into nothing. “They pulled the kid from his arms into the boat, and they wanted to grab Greg but he was losing consciousness because of the blow to his head or lack of oxygen from his deep dive, and he sank away before they could get him in. They did everything to save him, I’m sure, but it didn’t help. I guess …”
Her expression was tender. “Greg died believing he had done the right thing. He couldn’t help himself, I know, but it hurt.” She looked at Callie, her eyes wide and childlike. “It hurt, Callie, and I can’t go through that again.”
Callie took a deep breath.
Peggy lifted her hand. “Just don’t say anything, please. I know Quinn is a good guy and he loves the boys. I’m just not looking for a relationship. Not right now—maybe never.”
She snapped the album shut and held it against her. “Thanks for coming over and asking if I was all right. I am. I will be. I just don’t want to see Quinn right now. Could you go get the boys and bring them here?”
“Of course I can.” Callie rose. “I do have to say that something happened at the Hall. The boys were nowhere near it, but the police are there to look into it. Ace—”
“Does Ace know about—?” Peggy seemed worried.
“No, just that you left. I’ll tell him you had a headache.” As soon as Callie said it, she realized she was agreeing to lie to Ace for Peggy. And that that would mean trouble sooner or later. “He might not believe it, but—”
“I’ll call him.” Peggy pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll tell him I’m not feeling well and that you’ll bring the boys to me. I don’t want to see him here and get all these questions about what happened and how—he’ll blame Quinn, and it’s not Quinn’s fault really.”
Peggy raised the phone to her ear, and soon she was talking to Ace. Callie waited until she had finished and then took her leave, telling Peggy to lie down on the sofa a bit. “Drink that tea,” she said, handing her the mug. “There’s more in the pot.”
“Thanks.” Peggy held her gaze. “I don’t want you to lie to Ace for my sake, but just try not to let him think any further than that I got a headache. He’ll be knee deep in work anyway, I hope. He won’t think too much of it.”
Callie nodded and left the house. She hoped she could pick up the boys without running into Ace at all. In person, it would be harder to just pretend. There was nothing really wrong with Peggy, so it wasn’t like she was hiding some terrible thing from him but still …
She almost wished she didn’t know anything at all!
Chapter Six
Back at Haywood Hall, the number of parked cars had thinned out, suggesting people had been allowed to leave after providing their contact details and an initial statement about what they had heard or seen that could be related to the murder.
Callie believed that most people present had probably not noticed anything worthwhile and were just the unfortunate victims of a tragic death during a public activity.
She sighed, realizing how their Valentine’s event would be remembered: as the one with the murder. “You know, that man who got stabbed with scissors in the room upstairs?” They had, of course, hoped their event would be memorable, but not in this way!
Callie went to the stables and found the volunteers from the shelter busy packing up everything they had brought to present the dogs to the public. The dogs themselves had already been put into the shelter vans, and the stables seemed oddly empty without their presence. Tate and Jimmy looked glum, sitting on a hay bale, kicking it with their heels. When they saw Callie, Jimmy called out, “Quinn won’t let us take the puppy home. I bet if Mom saw him, she’d love him too and we could have him.”
“A puppy is a lot of work,” Callie said, closing in and smiling down on them. “Speaking of going home, it’s time to go. Your Mom is home already, so let’s go too.”
“Why didn’t Mom come see the puppy?” Tate asked, looking up at her with wide eyes. He enjoyed being the baby of the family and used his charm whenever h
e believed it could get things to go his way.
“Mom is very tired,” Callie said. “I think it best to just come along now.”
The boys sighed, but Jimmy pulled Tate to his feet and marched him off. Callie wanted to follow them but then saw Quinn standing there, looking at her much like Tate had. She wanted to avoid talking to him, but it was no use, as he was already closing in on her. “Is Peggy okay?”
“She just asked me to come get the boys and bring them home. I really don’t know anything else,” Callie said quickly.
“Come on,” Quinn snorted. “You and Peggy are friends. She told you what happened, didn’t she?”
“I only know she left and was quite upset. I didn’t ask details.” Callie pulled back her shoulders as if against an invisible accusation that she would have pried into someone’s private affairs.
Quinn said softly, “Can’t you guess? I fell in love with her the first day I met her, Callie. She’s just perfect. Pretty, witty, fun to be with. I thought that spending time with her and the boys would make her see … Maybe she won’t fall madly in love with me like she did with her husband. I know how much she loved him and probably still does. But he’s gone. She needs a man, someone to be there for her and make her laugh. I want to be that man. I thought that after all the months we spent together, she’d care for me too. Just a bit, you know—a start. But when I kissed her, she acted like it was the most terrible thing I could have done.”
Callie drew breath slowly. So that was it. Quinn had given Peggy a present and then, under the impression she shared his warm feelings, he had leaned in and kissed her. And Peggy hadn’t expected it and felt guilty about her dead husband and had run off to hide away.
Quinn said, “I feel like a heel now. Like I forced myself on her or something. But I thought she cared for me too. I never thought it was like what she had with Greg because I know I can’t compete with the man she’s loved ever since she was a teenager. She had kids with him and all. But still, I believed we could have something different. That we could mean something to each other. Not that … she hated me.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you, Quinn.” Callie figured that if Peggy hadn’t felt anything for Quinn, she would have told him so. She would have gotten angry rather than sad. It seemed like she did care for Quinn, in her own way, but felt like she shouldn’t. That it was somehow wrong.
As Callie wasn’t sure about this, she didn’t want to put it into words, though and just said, “Give it some time, Quinn. Maybe Peggy didn’t see it coming, and it just took her completely by surprise.”
Quinn looked doubtful. “She can’t have missed how things were between us. That we were growing closer.”
“Maybe it was there, but she never consciously allowed herself to consider it. Then you come and—”
“Barge in,” Quinn said ruefully. “Honestly, I thought it was the right moment, Callie. Valentine’s Day just seemed perfect for it. I had rehearsed what I was going to say and …” He put his hand on her arm. “Can’t you—since you’re going to Peggy now—can’t you put in a good word for me? Can’t you tell her I never meant to hurt her feelings and I want to talk it over with her?”
Callie took a deep breath. “Why don’t you call her in the morning or something? I don’t know if it’s a good idea if I talk to her now. She just wants to be left alone.”
Quinn looked sad. “I understand.” His shoulders slumped as he stepped away from her.
“Callie!” Jimmy appeared beside them and eyed her accusingly. “You said you wanted to take us home, and now you’re not coming.”
He looked up at Quinn, and his expression cleared. “Are you making a plan?” he asked, his voice high with excitement. “So we can have the puppy? You can convince Mom.”
“Your Mom isn’t feeling well right now,” Quinn said. “We’ll have to wait until she’s better.”
Callie hoped he wasn’t just giving this advice to the boy but also taking it to heart himself. She said goodbye and waved in passing to a few volunteers, who gave her curious looks, and then exited the stables to find Ace there, waiting for her with Tate by his side.
“You run ahead to Callie’s car,” Ace said to the boys, “and we’ll follow. Go on now.”
Jimmy seemed puzzled, but he didn’t ask. He yelled to Tate, “Race you!” and they were off, flailing their arms as they ran.
Ace said to Callie, “Is Peggy okay?”
“I thought she called you,” Callie said innocently.
“Yes, she did, but what does that tell me?” He gave her a probing look from his deep brown eyes. “You saw her—you know more than I do about how she really is.”
“She’s fine. She just needs some time to …” Callie considered a moment. “Valentine’s Day is just not easy for her.” It wasn’t really a complete lie.
Ace sighed. “Still, huh.” He kicked a stone on the path. “You hear so many stories about working through grief, and sometimes it seems like it’s all over and done with in a few months. People have new relationships, get married again. They can deal with their grief because they’ve forged new bonds that support them. But Peggy … Greg’s death hit her hard and she doesn’t want to let go of the past, it seems. I don’t mean that in a condemning way, just that I worry for her sake. Greg’s gone; he can’t hold her and help her with the boys, and I’m just sad for her that she feels like she has to do it all alone.”
Callie stared ahead as she asked, “So you would be open to her having a new relationship? I would have thought you would rather have her stay on her own.”
“So I can be her hero?” It sounded challenging. “If you think that, you don’t know me at all.”
Callie halted and faced him. “Then tell me what to think.”
Ace held her gaze, his features tight, as if he was looking for an answer. “I want Peggy to be happy again. But sometimes I wonder if she ever will be.”
The wind played around them, and the darkness seemed to squeeze just a little tighter. Sometimes happiness seemed just out of reach, so tantalizingly close and yet too far away to ever grab hold of.
Ace seemed to shake himself. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face a touch. “I’m sorry, Callie, that today ended this way. Go take the boys home now. I’ll call you, okay?”
She nodded, and he let go of her and walked back to the house. As Callie watched him, a lone, straight figure in the night, she wanted to run after him and hug him, tell him he didn’t have to do everything alone either. But she had a task to complete.
Impatiently, she turned to the waiting children.
* * *
When Callie arrived at the Book Tea, the lights on the second floor were on, suggesting Iphy was upstairs. Callie felt relieved and went around back, receiving a warm welcome from Daisy, who ran for her and pressed herself against her leg. Callie lifted the Boston terrier in her arms and cuddled her, saying, “Hello there, girl. I missed you so much. But it was far too crowded there for you, little one. You’d have felt unhappy. And then a murder. Again.”
Daisy whined as if she understood perfectly and licked Callie’s cheek. Callie carried her up the stairs to find her great-aunt sitting on the sofa with a faraway look on her face. She was still wearing her coat, as if she had come in and sat down right away, not stirring again. Looking at her quiet face, Callie had the unpleasant sensation that everyone was different that day than they usually were, and not in a good way.
She clutched Daisy tighter as she said, “Iphy? Is something wrong?”
Iphy shook herself and looked at her. “Wrong?” she repeated. “No, nothing is wrong.”
Then a wry laugh formed round her lips. “If you can claim nothing is wrong when someone has just been murdered.” She reached up and rubbed her face. “Mrs. Forrester is on the run.”
“What?” Callie asked. She must have misheard.
“Her fingerprints were on the murder weapon, and several people heard her arguing with the expert. I don’t know what about. But
Falk decided he had to take her along to the police station for questioning. With an attorney present and all. She must have panicked at the idea of such formal steps or just the shame of being taken in by the police, and ran. Her car was missing from the lot.”
“She must just have been too upset to think this through.” Callie eyed Iphy. “It doesn’t mean she’s guilty, I suppose. Not that I know her all that well.”
“Falk didn’t immediately assume she was guilty either, but he had to put out an APB on her anyway. He can’t just let her cross the state line and get away. Little old lady or not.”
“So the police are actively looking for her now?” Callie could hardly imagine the prim and proper library volunteer as a fugitive.
Iphy nodded. “She will be mortified. She never even gets a parking ticket, and now this.”
“Well, her sense of shame should be the last thing she worries about. How about the charges? I also saw her barging around with those scissors. And she was really angry about something. What if she gets charged for real and locked up?” Callie tried to imagine Mrs. Forrester behind bars but came up short.
Iphy nodded. “There is a real chance of that. Falk argues that a random visitor of the event would have had no reason to fight with Mr. King or hurt him. But Mrs. Forrester knew him to that extent that she had invited him here to do book appraisals, and he was a part of the proceedings in her bookroom—the Fall in Love with Books part of the event.”
Callie hemmed. “Still, that doesn’t prove a whole lot. Did she say anything to you? I mean either ahead or after the murder?”
Iphy shook her head. “I was so busy. I barely had time to see anyone, let alone have conversations.” She looked down at her outfit. “Here I am, still in my coat.” She laughed, a nervous, insincere laugh. “I’d better take this off and think about something to make for dinner.”
Callie looked her over with a sharp observant glance. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong? You don’t seem like yourself. Of course, murder is shocking, but Mrs. Forrester isn’t a close friend of yours.”