“I’m sure they do.”
“With Devon cream? If you’re going to have scones, you have to have clotted cream to go with them. Or lemon curd. Lemon curd could work, too.”
He stifled a grin. “I’ll call and make a special request for lemon curd and cl—?”
“Clotted cream,” I finished.
He pushed off the wall and ambled over to the sink, where I’d been rinsing our dinner dishes.
“Your chicken-fried steak is mighty tasty,” he said, taking up the dish towel and drying my hands.
“Secret recipe.” We’d grown into an easy rhythm with each other since I’d moved back home to Bliss and Meemaw had done her matchmaking from beyond the grave. Dinner together a few times a week, a shared teacup pig, which Will and Gracie had given me for Christmas, and even comfortable silence when I was working on a project and Will, on my sofa, was drawing sketches to remodel an historic building in Bliss all got me thinking more and more how we belonged together.
“Biscuit Hill sounds lovely. But being alone with you for the weekend,” I said with a wink, “sounds even better.”
He took the towel from my hands and tossed it on the counter beside me; then he placed his arms on either side of me, moving in close and lowering his lips to mine. I started to wrap my arms around his neck, but stopped as the bells in the front room jingled, announcing someone’s arrival.
“Dad! Harlow!” Gracie’s voice bellowed, echoing in through the rooms as if she were shouting into a megaphone.
I didn’t know how Meemaw could affect Gracie’s voice, but I had a feeling she was magnifying it somehow. The power of a Cassidy ghost. Communication with Loretta Mae was sketchy, at best, but it was getting easier. Until she went and threw a wrench in things by adding a new supernatural skill.
“In the kitchen,” Will said, pulling away from me and dropping his arms to his sides. The warmth that had seeped into the space between us chilled. It was more than just the space created when Will stepped back. Meemaw, I knew, was reacting to something.
The second I saw Gracie’s face, I knew that was the reason. Will and I moved forward at the same time. “What’s wrong?” I asked as Will clutched her shoulders and said, “What happened? Are you okay?”
She half nodded, half shook her head. “Shane,” she said, breaking down into a sob.
Will’s spine stiffened and he went into what I was beginning to recognize as full-protective-Dad mode. “If he hurt you—”
“Daddy, no. He didn’t. He wouldn’t!”
“What is it, Gracie?” I asked.
Her anxiety flooded the room, weighing down the air and pressing down on us. “The sheriff said they think someone tampered with Mr. Montgomery’s car, and . . . and . . . and they think maybe it was Shane. Just because he works at Bubba’s, they say he’d know how. They think he might could have caused the accident that killed his dad.”
Will and I both stared at Gracie. Death wasn’t anything new to either one of us. We’d each seen our share and helped solve a mystery or two right here in Bliss. But Gracie’s young boyfriend being accused of murdering his father? That was too close to home.
“Harlow,” she said, dragging the back of her hand under her nose. “You have to help him.”
“Whoa.” Will held his hands out to her, palm first, the message clear. Simmer down and knock that thought right out of your head. “Harlow isn’t going to get involved in this. The sheriff has it under control, Gracie.”
Her mouth dropped open and her head jutted forward. “No, they don’t. Not if they think Shane had anything to do with it. Daddy, he couldn’t possibly kill anybody. Certainly not his father.”
Will’s jaw pulsed and his eyes narrowed. “I hope not.”
“Innocent before proven guilty,” I said, stepping closer to Will. He looked like a panther ready to attack, and I was grateful Shane wasn’t anywhere near Buttons & Bows because he’d get the brunt of that force.
“He’s innocent,” Gracie said again, but this time, instead of looking at her dad, she looked at me. Tears pooled in her eyes and her lower lip quivered again. She was barely holding it together.
“I’m sure he is, darlin’,” I said, taking her hand. “The sheriff”—who just also happened to be my new stepdaddy— “is a fair man. He’s got to look at all sides of a situation before he can know what happened.”
“What about his son? The deputy? You don’t like him much, Harlow. What if he thinks Shane’s guilty?”
“I like Gavin McClaine just fine.” More, even, since he was carrying on a real, albeit long-distance, relationship with my good friend Orphie Cates. The deputy sheriff had grown up with a chip on his shoulder, but love at first sight with Orphie had dug away at it. He still got my craw, but not quite as often as he had in the past. “But more important than that, he’s good at his job. He and Hoss both believe in justice. They’re not going to do anything that would falsely accuse an innocent person.”
I hadn’t really thought about it so succinctly before, but now that the words had left my mouth, I knew it was true.
Gracie didn’t look like she believed me, so I gave her hand another squeeze. “Let them do their jobs,” I said. “You just be a friend to Shane right now. He’s going to need that more than anything.
Gracie shook her head, her dark hair swinging into her face with the motion. “No, Harlow, you have to help him. You’ve done it before, solved a murder.” Tears pooled in her eyes, one slipping down and streaking her cheek. “Please,” she said, her voice quiet and pleading.
I looked squarely at Gracie, nodding, then turned to Will. “Biscuit Hill is going to have to wait.”
A Custom Fit Crime Page 25