“Don’t apologize.” She found a smile for him and opened the door. “It was a pleasure talking to a man who wasn’t hurling insults. And Beau?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know what’s going on with Ms. Harper, but I hope Lawrence isn’t involved. He’s a dirty fighter. Please tell her I regret what I said to her outside the courthouse.”
Nodding grimly, then wishing her a good night, Beau got in his truck and headed for Jake Campbell’s log home in the valley. He’d planned to keep quiet about his visit with Devona, thinking that his interference might make Jenna angry. Now he might have to reconsider.
ELEVEN
Sunday was warm by November’s standards, and after church, Jenna and Beau joined the Campbells at the diner for brunch. Once or twice she’d scanned the crowd for that limping man in the tinted glasses, but for the most part, it was a fun outing that resulted in her falling even more deeply in love with Beau. Her day got even better when they returned to the Blackberry. When Beau mentioned moving the sitting room furniture to the dining room so he could start sanding, she’d used her employer clout to shut him down. “I have a better idea,” she’d said. “This is the Lord’s day. Let’s make hot buttered popcorn and watch football instead.”
It was the most wonderful day of her life—so wonderful, she had a hard time falling asleep that night. Jenna lay there in the dark, immersed in the heart-thrumming excitement that came with falling in love. For years, she’d chosen badly when it came to men, and she’d ended up being hurt when her trust was broken. That wouldn’t happen this time. Beau was everything the others weren’t. He was solid and dependable, sympathetic and caring without seeming weak. And it didn’t hurt that those qualities came in a beautifully assembled, incredibly masculine package. “Please, Lord,” she whispered. “Please let him love me, too.”
* * *
She was still feeling that glow early Monday morning as she spread cherry filling between two of the chocolate layer cakes she’d baked last night. Then she added the last layer and frosted it with sweetened whipped cream before topping it with cherries and shaved chocolate. Rachel and Margo were coming by at one o’clock, and they loved Black Forest cake. She’d just popped it into the refrigerator when Beau came downstairs, said a pleasant “Good morning” and headed for the dining room.
Jenna followed. “You’re not having breakfast?”
“Nope,” he said. “I’ve put this off too long already.”
“Can I help?”
“Not yet.”
Jenna watched him move the dining room chairs to the back of the room, then slip plastic gliders under the table’s legs and slide it easily across the hardwood to the wall where the chairs stood.
She held back a sigh. This wasn’t the way she’d wanted their morning to begin. She didn’t expect roses and love songs, but she’d hoped for conversation. More conversation than she’d had with Bernice before she’d rushed out again. “It was fun being with Rachel and Jake these past two days, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was,” he said, distracted. He glanced around, seeming to measure the space they’d need for the sitting room’s furniture. “Turns out Jake’s a geocacher, too. We’ll probably check out a few sites in the spring.”
“I thought we were going in the spring.”
He looked up suddenly as if surprised that she’d remembered—then the skin beside his dark eyes crinkled. “You and Rachel can go, too. If you want to, and she’s up to it.”
She wanted. Oh, yes, she wanted. On Saturday night when he’d come to pick her up at the Campbells’, they’d stayed to talk over mugs of decaf and Rachel’s oven-warm chocolate chip cookies. Conversation had flowed so easily, it was as though they’d been a foursome forever—which made Jenna see herself and Beau as a couple. That feeling had grown even stronger since their Sunday brunch and afternoon of popcorn and football.
“What’s the smile about?” he asked as they passed through the French doors on their way to the sitting room.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just happy.”
“Good,” he said, smiling back. “Stay that way.”
They’d just removed the dusty plastic sheets draped over the settees and started transferring furniture when the phone rang.
“Want me to get that?” he asked.
Jenna headed for the desk in the foyer. “No, I’ll answer it.” Nothing in the world could ruin this feeling of sublime satisfaction today. Not even a hang up. She checked the caller ID display, then answered on the third ring.
“Jenna, it’s Fish. Is Beau there?”
“Yes, I’ll get him for y—”
“No, don’t do that,” he said, something in his voice giving her pause. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”
“Go on.”
“The cell phone company we subpoenaed released the names of your hang-up callers.” He hesitated. “Jenna, I’m sure there’s an explanation for this because I’ve known him for a long time, and I just don’t see him doing anything like this.”
Now she was really getting rattled. Someone Fish knew had made those calls? “Who? Who are you talking about?”
“Both cell phones are registered to Beau.”
The news landed with a thud, but a split second later, Jenna shook off her doubts and fear stepped in. “It’s not Beau. He wouldn’t do that.”
“I agree. But I’d like you to keep this to yourself for now. I’ll be over to talk to both of you in a while. He’ll have to supply an alibi for the date the phones were purchased in Ohio. I have to testify in a DUI case, first.”
Then why call and tell her this ahead of time?
He seemed to read her mind. “I only called to give you a heads-up because when I saw the two of you at the fundraiser, it looked like you were sort of together. I wanted to give you time to think it through before you reacted.”
“Thanks, but I wouldn’t have needed time. I know who he is. See you in a while.” She took a moment to consider what he’d said. Then suddenly she was angry and agitated and so afraid, she knew she’d never be able to hide it. She hurried into the hall. Regardless of Fish’s request, Beau needed to know about this.
As she’d expected, the moment Beau saw her, he knew she was upset. He stopped in the middle of sliding the smaller of the two rose settees into the hall, a sheet of plastic trailing behind.
“What’s wrong?”
“That was Fish on the phone.”
The doorbell rang. Jenna froze, then looked nervously toward the front door. “I’ll be right back.” Then she strode back to the foyer and peered cautiously through the etched glass side light on the front door.
Holding a brown-paper wrapped package, Tammy Reston waited on the porch. Jenna’s frazzled nerve endings curled into knots. She turned to Beau who’d followed her to the door.
His features darkened. “Are you expecting a delivery?”
She shook her head, then opened the door and Tammy stepped in from the cold. “Hi, Tammy.”
“Hey, Jenna.” She took in the man standing behind her. “‘Mornin’, Beau.”
“Morning.”
Tammy was a pretty blonde with the long, teased and sprayed hair of a country singer, and according to the bumper sticker on her truck, a proud member of the NRA. Out of necessity, her summer wardrobe—camouflage mini skirts and cropped tops—had been replaced by tight, white-gray-and-black camouflage pants tucked into high black boots and topped by a matching jacket cinched at the waist. Tammy ran Charity’s sporting goods store, had a sideline parcel delivery business and sold blue-ribbon pies out of her back room. It was a mystery how she managed to hold down three jobs and still give the gossips something to talk about.
“Got a package for your aunt,” she said, “but I hear she went to Connecticut for a few days.”
Apparently, the local grapevine was still operating at top efficiency. “Yes, but she’ll be back in a few days. Can I sign for the package?”
“Why yes, you can,” she chirped, h
anding Jenna a pen and clipboard.
Jenna glanced at the glossy return address sticker on the box—and her tension eased. Chang Chung’s Gourmet Fortune Cookies. There was a colorful “Happy Birthday” sticker on the box as well. She sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. It was just a gift. Quickly signing, she exchanged the clipboard for the package and offered Tammy her thanks.
“No trouble,” Tammy returned, waving off the tip Beau offered. “Just wish Ms. Jennings a happy birthday for me.”
“I will,” Jenna said. “Have a good day.”
Tammy grinned and winked. “You two do the same.” Then she hurried through the light flurries to her black truck.
Sighing, Jenna closed the door. “Well, it begins. Everyone she talks to today will know the innkeeper and the carpenter were all alone at the Blackberry before nine. Never mind that Bernice Gates was here until a few minutes ago.”
“Thought you didn’t care about gossip.”
“I don’t.”
“Good,” he said through a chuckle. “Because I hope she tells the whole town. Being with you can only elevate my bruised and battered reputation.” He noted the return address on the package. “Fortune cookies?”
“Apparently,” Jenna replied, eager to put the cookies aside and have that talk with him. “Looks like Millie took Aunt Molly at her word when she originally cancelled their plans. She had to have ordered these the second she hung up.” She set the package on the desk. “I’ll take these upstairs later. I need to talk to you about something.”
He was already moving into the hall. “Okay, but let’s talk while I finish moving that sofa into the dining room.”
She was about to tell him what Fish said when she noticed a small square of paper stuck to that trailing plastic sheet. She bent to pick it up. It wasn’t square, it was oblong—one of Beau’s business cards. She was in the process of handing it to him when she spotted her name written on the back—followed by a series of numbers.
Slowly, she brought the card close again and studied those numbers. Her heart nearly stopped beating. Jenna raised suddenly teary eyes to his. “What is this?”
Beau looked at her in surprise, then examined the card. “I don’t know.”
She couldn’t recall ever feeling so sick. “Then let me tell you what it is. It’s the number on the credit card I cancelled.” Her tears were flowing freely now, and her heart was in shreds. He couldn’t be responsible, yet those two cell phones had been registered to him, and he had her credit card number.
For several moments neither of them moved or spoke. Then, with a soft, “Thanks a lot,” Beau turned and walked into the sitting room.
Jenna stood stone still while logic battled with her aching heart—and won. How could she have been so stupid? Beau had nothing to gain by involving himself in any of this. This was Courtland, pushing her buttons, trying to hurt her any way he could. She hurried after him. He’d gone back to the sitting room to work.
“Beau, I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t say a word, just continued slipping gliders under the second rose settee.
“Please listen. I told you a few minutes ago that it was Fish on the phone. He said they traced those cell phone numbers back to the source, and—and the source was you.”
He jerked his head up from his task and his eyes went wide.
She rushed on. “I knew you weren’t responsible for those hang-ups and that’s exactly what I told Fish. But then I saw your business card and I put the two together, and just for a second—” She sent him a pleading look. “I’m so sorry.”
“No problem,” he said, continuing to work. “It’s only natural that you’d come to that conclusion.”
Natural because he’d grown up in squalor and some people had thought less of him because of it? The man who pretended he couldn’t care less what people thought of him, cared a lot.
She touched his arm. “I made a mistake. I trust you. Now, please, let’s talk about this. I don’t know why Courtland would want to involve you in this, but the fact that he’s aware that you’re my…my friend…is frightening.”
He ignored her last statement and centered on a previous one. “There’s nothing to talk about. You trust me. We’re fine.” He slid the settee toward the doorway. “Now, I really need to get this into the other room.”
Jenna’s heart sank. “Let me help you.”
“No, I’m okay. I’m not sure I can move the highboy alone, though, so I might need help then.”
“Okay,” she said quietly, knowing that they were far from fine. Please, God, she prayed silently. Let him think this through and forgive me. If he didn’t she wouldn’t be able to stand it.
He was sanding the floor and keeping to himself when Margo and Rachel arrived. Jenna walked them back to the sitting room so they could say hello, and he shut off the sander. But his smile and easy conversation were for them, not her, and it hurt. Saying he’d finish later so they didn’t have to shout over the noise, he washed up, grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
Jenna followed.
“I’ll be back later,” he said.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to see Fish about this cell phone business. After that, I’ll probably pick up something at the diner and check my house. Please call my cell phone—my only cell phone—before your friends leave, and I’ll come back. Aunt Molly doesn’t want you to be alone.”
Jenna swallowed the emotional lump in her throat, then watched him back his truck out of his space and drive off. The message was clear. If he hadn’t promised Aunt Molly to stick around, he’d be history now. Rachel and Margo were sitting on the turquoise sofa and talking quietly when she entered the parlor.
Never one to mince words, Margo spoke. “Okay, what’s going on? When I picked up Rachel, she said you and Beau were getting close. That didn’t look like ‘close’ to us.”
Jenna sat in the wing chair across from them. When Margo was Charity’s chief of police, she’d worn her dark hair pulled back in a bun. Today, it fell in loose, brown waves to her shoulders. She looked trim and pretty in jeans, sneakers and a black jewel neck sweater. “Did Rachel fill you in on what’s been happening here for the past two weeks?”
Margo darted a look at Rachel, and Rachel answered. “No, I thought it would be better coming from you.”
She was right. Then Margo would only have to hear the information once. “Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
When the coffee was poured and the cake served, Jenna sat. She started with the identity theft and funeral flowers, then continued through the ant problem, razors in the mattress and hang-ups. Finally, she told Margo about the cell phones and planted business card.
“I handled it so badly,” she said, tearing up and suddenly unable to sit any longer. She took the carafe to the coffeemaker and topped it off, then returned it to the table. “I thought of the time he’d spent here, everything he had access to…coming and going as he pleased… And for a few seconds, I was afraid he might be involved.” She swallowed. “It only took me a minute to realize that he had nothing to gain by it, and I apologized. But I was a minute too late. The damage was done.”
Margo rose and gave her a hug. “He’s a smart man. He’ll forgive you.”
“Will he? One summer while I was visiting my aunt and Beau was doing her yard work, he told me something. I can’t remember what led to it, but he said he’d been shunned so many times he was beginning to think he was Amish. He laughed, but I know it bothered him. Now I’m afraid he thinks… Well, you know.”
Margo frowned. “I’m glad Aunt Molly’s out of town. This is no place for her right now. How are you doing—other than this thing with Beau?”
“About as well as you’d expect. I’m almost certain Courtland’s behind every nasty thing that’s been done, but I desperately want to believe it’s someone else.” She shook her head. “And speaking of Aunt Molly, I need to phone her. She’ll want to thank Millie for the gift that came this morning.”
>
“Millie sent Aunt Molly a package when she knew she’d be seeing her?”
“I assume so since it came from their favorite Chinese restaurant. Aunt Molly loves their fortune cookies. Millie must’ve mailed them as soon as Aunt Molly bailed out on the trip.”
“She bailed, then changed her mind?”
“Yes, after Beau promised to stay until she came back.”
“Show me the package.”
A few minutes later, the three of them were standing in the foyer, and Jenna’s heart was beating double-time. Gripping the phone’s handset in a stranglehold, she continued to speak to her aunt. “Millie didn’t send the cookies?”
“No. I’m coming home, Jenny.”
“Don’t do that. I’m okay. Maybe this is just a coincidence. You probably mentioned liking the cookies to one of your other friends. After our lunch at the diner, half the town knows about your birthday.”
“Maybe.” She drew a breath. “Is Beau there?”
No, and she wished so much that he was. “He had to run an errand, but Margo and Rachel are here.”
“Then open the box. See if there’s a card inside.”
Gooseflesh covered her arms as Jenna stared at the parcel. It wasn’t heavy enough to be a bomb—although she was hardly an authority on explosives. How much did bombs weigh? And did they actually tick? Also the box had been postmarked in Ohio, and the return address sticker looked authentic.
She met Margo’s eyes. “She wants us to open the box.”
“Tell her you’ll call her back in a few minutes. I don’t want to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but I think we should open it outside.”
When she’d done as Margo asked, they stepped out on the back porch and set the box on the wide railing. There was no card or message inside. There was nothing in the box but a dozen chocolate and vanilla-iced fortune cookies decorated with colorful candy sprinkles.
“There’s a phone number on the address sticker,” Jenna said, picking up the box and moving back into the kitchen. “I’ll call and see who ordered them.”
At Any Cost Page 14