Echo Falls, Texas Boxed Set

by Patti Ann Colt

  Jonathan’s lips tightened into a firm line. “I don’t think so.” He pulled her close and hugged her. “Cher, you’ve been fighting your grandfather for years, shadow boxing the memory of those damn arguments. But the success you’ve made of yourself, you did out of sheer talent and unrelenting grit. You’re successful, too successful to still be wallowing in this stuff. And if you don’t resolve this with him soon, it might be too late.”

  Left unspoken was what that would do to her art.

  She stopped to consider a world without her grandfather, hard-headed as he was. An unexpected ache in her heart jarred her. Life would be so much easier if she’d learned to stop loving the old goat. “All right. All right. I’ll call.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

  “Now?”

  She glanced over at the phone, dread filling her. “Yes. Now.”

  “Good.” He turned back to the door. “Come down to the breakfast room when you’re finished and we’ll have brunch. You can tell me about the call, and I’ll see what else I can find out about the fake art in Miami.”

  He stopped in the doorway and gave her a pointed stare.

  “I’m going.” She crossed the floor to the desk and found the note. She sat in her chair, palming her cell phone.

  Jonathan hovered, then left, shutting the door behind him.

  She stared at the phone and fidgeted.

  ££££££

  Tom Applegate picked up the hose and washed the soap off his truck. Even with the vehicle parked in the shade of his grandmother’s driveway, the early August heat made the water hiss when the moisture hit the pavement. The day was too hot to be washing his truck, the water dang near drying before it did its job. He needed to occupy himself, though. This day off from police duty, the first since Walter died, weighed on him. No chess, no errands or talking to Walter just so he’d hear a voice. Tom swallowed hard against the grief and took a moment to gaze across the wide-expanse of lawn to the neighbors.

  The Applegate family had been in Echo Falls for decades. His father went away to college and met his mother, bringing her back home after the two completed law school. They joined his grandfather’s law firm, bought a house two blocks over from their parents, bore four kids and maintained a happy, fulfilled life—one Tom loved and hoped to emulate just as his siblings had—Rick with Tara, Chad with Robin, and Meg with Bret.

  He took a deep breath and absorbed the quiet, letting it settle his grief and loneliness. All of the neighbors proved smarter and were holed up inside with the air conditioning on high. His grandmother’s lawn showed the wear of hot July days that had rolled into August. He’d have to come by tonight and run the sprinklers for her. While the yard soaked, he could spend a few hours under the hood of her latest project.

  Olivia Applegate came down the driveway from the back of the house, wiping her hands on an oil- stained rag.

  He eyed the broom handle trapped under her arm. “It’s too hot, Grandma. You should wait until later to sweep.”

  She dropped the rag over the porch railing and brushed at a dark spot on her jeans. “Oh, I’m not going to do it now. Just putting the broom out to remind me.” As if she needed that. She’d been sweeping the porch every day since he could remember. She was nothing if not finicky about her house and yard.

  She leaned the broom near a window and perched on one of the many white chairs lined up across her porch. She stooped to pluck a dead leaf off the potted orange geraniums. Her yellow canvassed feet tapped to an internal rhythm. “When you finish that, will you water these?”

  He grinned, feeling like a little boy. “Hm. It’ll cost you.”

  She gave him an indulgent smile—one that could mend a man’s heart, child or elderly codger. He took his thumb off the pressure nozzle, let the hose drop to the ground, and picked up a dry towel. “Roast beef sandwich, potato salad, and…let’s see, lemon meringue pie?”

  She chuckled, as if he’d pulled a fast one. The sound floated merry and sweet, easing some of the sore places in his heart.

  She stood, sweeping her white hair back from her forehead with a wrinkled hand. “Banana cream. And it’s on the table.”

  Drat. She always anticipated. Of course, he was a sucker for her meals, and she was no fool. He’d probably given himself away a time or two.

  “I’ll be right in. Just let me get the truck wiped off before the spots set.”

  Before he finished the sentence, an Echo Falls Police Department car pulled up in front of the house. His brother-in-law, Bret Cara, got out from behind the wheel and walked up the driveway. He slowed halfway up, surprise crossing his features as he stared at the car parked by the garage.

  Bret reached him and did a quiet inspection of Tom’s truck. His lips twitched. “If I bring my truck over, will you do it, too?”

  Tom snorted. “Do I look like a car wash?”

  Bret gave his ratty shorts and T-shirt a once over. “You look like a slacker, partner.”

  Tom laughed. “First day off to slack in over two weeks,partner.”

  Normally Bret and Tom worked the same shift. But since mid-July, Tom had been covering for Sergeant Hallam, the department detective. He had broken his leg trying to wrestle his fishing boat out of the lake and was on extended medical leave. Tom had been designated to fill the detective sergeant’s slot until he could return. Hence, his and Bret’s shifts together were hit or more likely miss.

  Olivia came down the porch steps and gave her grandson-in-law a hug. “Your lunch is on the table too, dear.”

  “Banana cream?”

  “Yes, dear. You get it right every time.” His grandmother smirked at Tom.

  Before he could protest that she always made the pie Bret wanted, she walked across the lawn to check the other flowerbeds, bending here and there to pluck off dead leaves and flowers.

  Tom slapped Bret with a wet towel, regardless of his clean uniform. “You are making me so sorry I ever brought you home.”

  “Meg would have found me anyway.” Bret moved out of his line of fire and sat down on the top step. The contentment in the way he acted these days made Tom restless and jealous and damn happy for the man. He’d been miserable before Meg.

  Bret finally broke and asked. “So who dumped the Cougar Convertible in Olivia’s driveway?” Tom glanced to the back of the driveway at the rusted, banged up relic. “Nice that you know the make and model. I’m impressed. Luke Bradda brought it over. Wants Grandma to restore it.”

  “She agree?”

  “Yep, with gleaming eyes and itchy fingers.” Tom ran the damp towel over the hood. Bret glanced over where Olivia walked the sidewalk along the edge of her property. “Seems like that’s a big job for her to tackle alone.”

  Tom shook his head. “Not alone. Hired Josh Anderson. He’s had two years of auto mechanics at the high school. She says he’s a natural.”

  “Josh Anderson? Senior this year? Plays football, right? Didn’t he work for Chad at the farm?”

  Tom stepped on the running board and wiped the top of the cab. “Yeah, used to help Trudy at the market. His dad probably is none too pleased to lose him for apple harvest either, but Grandma’s paying him top dollar, and he had a matching gleam in his eye. She promised Luke the finished product by Thanksgiving, if she can find parts.”

  Bret leaned back, resting against the step. “Man, this restoration I gotta watch. She should open her own damn shop.”

  Tom didn’t answer.

  A red truck pulled up in front of the house, followed by a black SUV. It appeared the whole damn family stole his idea for lunch. Rick and Chad, his brothers, stepped from their vehicles.

  Probably smelled the banana cream pie.

  Chad opened the back door. Boo and Lindy, his six-year-old daughters, bounced out and raced up the sidewalk.

  Tom tossed the towel to the ground and prepared for the onslaught, something wound tight inside released.

  “Uncle Bret!” Boo vaulted up the steps into Bret’s arms. He reached and caught h
er, pulling her into his lap.

  Tom chuckled at the look on his face— like Boo was a bomb ready to explode. She had decided months ago that Uncle Bret defined cool. This was a first for Bret, and he was struggling with how to be that favorite uncle. Tom appreciated his care with Boo’s feelings, but enjoyed the hell out of watching him squirm.

  Lindy reached him and hugged his leg. “Hi, Uncle Tom!” He lifted her into his arms and bear hugged her until she giggled.

  “How’s my two best girls?” Tom sat with Lindy on the tailgate of his truck. Stray water drops from the washing seeped through his shorts, but he didn’t care. Bret looked shell-shocked from Boo’s chatter.

  Boo leaned her head back against Bret’s shoulder. “I thought Grandma was your favorite girl?”

  “She’s my favorite grandma.” Tom put an arm around Lindy’s shoulder and hugged her to his side. She was too quiet. “You two ready for first grade to start?”

  “Yep.” Boo shifted so Bret could put her down and ran to Olivia who had stopped in the yard to hug Rick and Chad.

  He looked down at Lindy. She bit her lip, eyes downcast. “Not looking forward to school?”

  She vehemently shook her head.

  Rick, the eldest Applegate brother, greeted him as he passed and went up to the porch to shake hands with Bret. Chad stopped at Tom’s side.

  “Hey, anybody tell you it’s about a hundred degrees out here? Let me say two words. Air. Conditioning.” His younger brother’s farmer uniform of jeans and a T-shirt made Tom sweat just to think about being covered in all those clothes.

  “We’ll talk later,” he whispered in Lindy’s ear and then lifted her down.

  He stood and slammed the tailgate. “This from a man who spends his life on a tractor. It’s not too bad with the water on. Time to quit, though. Grandma has my lunch on the table. Gotta get to it before you do.”

  Chad slapped him on the back. “Contrary to popular opinion, I have a wife at home who makes a perfect sandwich and most other stuff, too. I don’t need Grandma’s cooking anymore.”

  Tom raised a brow. “You don’t need Grandma’s cooking?” He paused. “Blasphemy!”

  “All’s I’m saying is that I’m not like you. I won’t starve to death anymore. You on the other hand…” He left the question open, a wretched teasing smile firm on his lips.

  “I cook,” Tom defended himself. “That’s more than I can say for you.”

  Tom walked over to the house and turned off the hose, setting the towels, car wash, and bucket next to the wall to be put away later. He met his brothers on the porch where Chad greeted Bret. Rick shrugged out of his suit jacket and loosened his tie. “I make things,” Chad protested, continuing their discussion.

  “Yeah. Peanut butter and jelly. And before Robin, your microwaves had a tendency to explode. I can feed myself without culinary disaster.” Tom just didn’t like to cook just for himself, and he was sick to death of his own company, hence the reason he ate here so much. Visiting his grandmother chased away the loneliness, for both of them. He didn’t say any of that, though. It would sound like whining and would make him a perfect target for meddling.

  Olivia came up behind them, holding hands with both girls. “Where are Robin and Benjamin?”

  “Baby was napping, so Robin wanted some rest time, too. The girls were going stir-crazy, so we took a drive. Had some business at the Feed n’ Grain anyway.” Chad reached to gently pull Lindy’s thumb from her mouth and gave her a stern look. She melted against Chad’s leg.

  Tom pointed at Rick. “And what about you? No business today? Your three kids still at the other grandparents?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. They’ll be home tonight. I’m out for a break. Office is a zoo. Dad’s off today.”

  Tom turned to stare at Rick. Surprise rippled through him. “He sick?”

  Rick looked at him blankly. “Not that I know of.”

  “He never takes a day off,” Chad added, separating Lindy from his leg and taking her hand instead.

  Rick unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. “Well, he has lately. In fact, since November when he lost the prosecuting attorney election, he’s been taking at least one day off a week, sometimes two.”

  Olivia took the steps one at a time. Bret reached out to help her. Boo followed her and somehow ended up holding Bret’s hand.

  Olivia’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t know that. He never said anything.” Her words pulled Tom back to the conversation.

  “Well, he and Mom have been going to tons of meetings for the new economic development program Mom proposed at the council meeting two months ago. Feasibility studies and all that. It’s wearing him out.” Rick hesitated a moment, unfastening his cuffs and rolling them up. “I got the feeling they aren’t exactly seeing eye-to-eye on the project.”

  Olivia swiped her hair off her face. “Let’s go to the kitchen where it’s cooler. We can talk about this more over a meal. You’ll need some lunch too.”

  Rick yawned. “What I need is a nap, but I’ll settle for a sandwich and some chocolate cream pie?” The hope in his voice was laughable.

  “Banana cream,” Olivia corrected.

  He sighed, dramatically. “I guess I can settle for that.”

  Tom snorted a mere second before Chad did. Moving past his brothers, Tom rounded the porch to the back of the house. He opened the kitchen door for his grandmother and waited for the rest to troop in. He sighed as the air conditioning hit him and shut the door against the baking heat.

  When he turned, Rick and Bret were sitting at the table. Rick’s jacket was over the back of the chair, and he’d eaten half Tom’s sandwich. Tom shook his head, laughing silently. Some things never changed.

  Olivia was already at the counter making more sandwiches. “Chad, you want a sandwich?”

  “Sure.” Chad hung his dusty orange Applegate Farms baseball hat by the back door. “What about the girls?”

  “I’ll make them peanut butter and jelly.” Chad moved to the sink to wash his hands, then got the items from the cupboard and proceeded to work beside her.

  Tom sank into a chair across from his older brother, his stomach growling. He watched him take another juicy bite and mulled over the information about his father.

  Two months ago, his mother, mayor of Echo Falls, proposed the town develop an art community to increase tourism. Echo Falls had been a farming, ranching community for more than one hundred-fifty years. Other than the reservoir and the campers and boaters the water attracted, there wasn’t any tourism to speak of. What his mother had presented would drastically change the makeup of the community. There’d been lengthy debate in the town paper, at the town meetings, and at several of the Sunday dinners in this very house. Come to think of it, while his mother had been over-the-top enthusiastic, his father had been conspicuously quiet during most of those discussions.

  “So what’s Dad up to?” Tom handed his brother a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table. Rick swallowed and wiped his mouth. “Not sure. I stopped by their house, but he’s not there.”

  “Where do you figure he went?” Tom leaned back in his chair to allow his grandmother to set another plate with a sandwich and potato salad in front of him.

  She paused with a hand on her hip. “You want a drink, Tom?”

  “I’ll get it, Grandma.” Tom went to the refrigerator and retrieved the lemonade and ice, grabbing glasses on the way back.

  Bret’s radio squawked, and Tom froze out of habit. Bret turned up the volume and listened for a minute, assessed the traffic stop being reported, and turned the radio down low again.

  Tom poured drinks for everyone, stifling the work alertness and settling back to day off behavior. Olivia bustled back to the counter and made another sandwich for Chad and for herself. Chad easily enticed the girls with their plates of food into the family room for one of the kid’s movies.

  “So, where did he go?” Tom took a healthy swig of his drink.

  Rick shrugged and wiped t
he condensation from his can. “I have no idea.”

  For as long as Tom could remember, any time his father wasn’t at work, he was at home weeding in his garden, puttering around their house repairing things, or attending some event that had to do with one of his children or grandchildren.

  Tom picked up a fork and took a bite of potato salad. “Did you call Meg? Maybe he took her to lunch?” Meg was the only Applegate daughter and was very close to their father.

  Bret finished off his sandwich. “I already asked her to go to lunch with me today. She had a teacher’s day at the high school to prep for school and couldn’t.”

  “Did you ask Mom?”

  Rick shifted in his chair. “No. I saw her at the courthouse and I just didn’t want to…I don’t know…rat him out if she doesn’t know.”

  “He is allowed to have private time, you two.” Olivia sat next to Rick and laid a napkin in her lap. “Why do we need to know where he went?”

  Chad joined them. “Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing. Could have gone to lunch with one of his friends or something. The fact is, he looked downright worn out last time I saw him. A few days to do as he pleases would be a good thing.”

  Rick wiped his hands on a napkin. “I’d say the same thing, except for one thing.” He stopped for a minute, a debate over whether to tell them clear on his face.

  “Spit it out,” Olivia commanded.

  “Dad hasn’t taken a case since he lost the election. Theonlything he did was visit Walter LeFey about four months ago and revise his will.”

  “He did what?” Tom leaned forward in his chair. “Dad revised his will? How?”

  Rick shrugged. “Don’t know. Couldn’t tell you if I did. You’ll have to wait for the reading.” That meant waiting for Summer LeFey to call him so he could relay the bad news. He’d left messages for two days now, but he refused to leave a death message with the housekeeper, and Summer had yet to return his calls.

  Chad put down his sandwich. “Back to Dad. Not one case?”

  Rick pushed back his chair. “No.”

  Tom didn’t like the sounds of that or Rick’s brevity, as if he knew more and wasn’t going to say anything further even under threat of torture.