Even though Jesse wanted to keep the whole thing on the down-low, she valued her parents’ opinions about whether they should report the incident with Michaela kidnapping the girls.
Jesse didn’t like her using words like abduct and kidnap. Especially since he didn’t seem convinced it had even happened. But if that woman drove off with their daughters in her car, then they were apt words. Regardless of whether she ultimately let them go. He’d promised her they’d “get to the bottom of this,” but his and Danae’s canvassing of the neighborhood yesterday had not yielded any results until the last house on the block, where Danae talked with an elderly woman who said she’d seen two little girls walking on the sidewalk across the street headed toward the main road. She’d thought they were visiting at her neighbor’s across the street, but Danae had inquired at that house and discovered there hadn’t been any visitors there.
To complicate matters, the old woman’s description of the girls she supposedly saw didn’t exactly fit Sadie and Simone. She’d said both girls had long, brown hair. Her girls’ hair was actually more honey colored, and shoulder length. The woman had also thought the girls she saw were both wearing yellow. Corinne supposed if the woman’s eyes were bad, she might have mistaken lime green for yellow.
Yet, even if the woman had described Sadie and Simone with undeniable accuracy, it still wouldn’t have proven anything for certain. Michaela could have abducted the girls at Danae’s and dropped them off a few blocks up the street from her sister’s house. What her motive might have been for such a crazy action, Corinne was afraid to guess. Probably just to scare them.
Well, she’d certainly done that. Corinne checked the girls in the rearview mirror. Would she ever again feel comfortable letting her daughters out of her sight?
After talking late into the night, it seemed the only thing she and Jesse had been able to agree on was that they would give it another day and hope Sadie came clean. If she was lying.
She and Jesse had tossed and turned, neither of them able to sleep more than a few hours. He seemed convinced this was just another of Sadie’s tall tales to keep from getting in trouble. Corinne wasn’t so sure.
Despite her hesitance to share all the details with her parents, Corinne was thankful to not be home alone with the kids today. For the first time since they’d moved into their house, she’d felt vulnerable at home last night, imagining sounds that Jesse promised her weren’t there and having flashbacks to scenes from that movie—Fatal Attraction, was it?—that she and some high school friends had rented at the local video store. And regretted ever since. She shuddered, thinking about the depiction of a woman scorned exacting her revenge on the man’s family.
She topped the hill on Chicory Lane, and the inn came into sight. Grateful for the haven her childhood home would be today, she rehearsed once more how she could tell her parents what had happened without alarming them.
And she prayed again that there was no need for alarm.
* * *
Audrey walked up the drive from the mailbox, relishing the warm June sun on her back. The chicory was starting to bloom in the ditches on either side of Chicory Lane, adding lively daubs of purplish blue to the native grasses that waved in the breeze.
Spring was her favorite time of year—well, at least until autumn came along. Grant always accused her of being fickle about the seasons. But the niggling fears she was entertaining today were spoiling her enjoyment of the season.
Corinne had called and asked to come out and talk to her and Grant. Since when did her kids need “permission” to come out to the inn? Something was up with Corinne. She hoped they hadn’t gotten in over their heads financially. Heaven knew she and Grant weren’t in a position to help them out right now.
The thought had crossed her mind more than once that Corinne and Jesse might be having marital problems. They’d seemed rather tense the last few Tuesday nights when they’d all gathered. But she couldn’t let her mind go there. Whatever it was, they’d work it out. For the sake of those precious little girls, they’d work it out. Please, Lord.
She heard a car on the gravel drive behind her and turned to see Corinne pulling in. Audrey had to smile at the swirl of activity visible through the windshield. Those three girls made her tired just thinking about them.
She’d never thought she’d see the day, but she had to admit she was thankful to be where she was in life—even if it did mean she was pushing sixty (as Link loved to point out). She simply did not have the energy to wrestle a handful of kids the way she had when hers were young. God certainly knew what he was doing when he gave kids to young people.
She waved at Corinne and the girls, ran in to put the mail on the kitchen desk, then hurried back out to meet them on the drive. She and Grant had guests arriving at the inn later today, and the house was clean and tidy. In an effort to keep it that way, she would steer this gathering to the back deck. Thank goodness the weather was perfect for sitting outside.
Audrey bent to look into the van. “Good morning! How are my three favorite girls?”
“Hey!” Corinne affected a pout. “What am I? Chopped liver?”
“You want to go out back? It’s such a beautiful day.”
Corinne tilted her head. “Why don’t you just say what you mean, Mom: don’t you dare mess up my spotless house.”
Audrey laughed. “Well, maybe there’s a little of that.” But she took comfort in Corinne’s teasing. Whatever she’d come to tell them couldn’t be too bad if she was in a joking mood.
They walked around the side of the house, Corinne exclaiming at the riot of color Grant’s flowers provided. “What’s that red one called?”
Audrey turned to see the plant Corinne was pointing at. “You’ll have to ask your dad, honey. The only ones I recognize are the roses and the geraniums. Besides, your dad will have fun hearing you ooh and aah over his hard work.”
“Where is Dad? I want to talk to him too.”
Audrey gave her a searching look. “He’s in the wood shop. But he knows you’re here. He’ll be out. Is everything okay?”
Corinne looked pointedly at the girls. “I’ll explain. Later.”
“Okay.” She furrowed her forehead. “But you’re worrying me,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing . . . fatal.”
The shadows under her daughter’s eyes didn’t comfort her.
Corinne slung her purse over the back of a chaise lounge and pulled a tube of sunscreen from her jeans pocket. “Come here, girlies.”
The girls lined up like stair steps, and Corinne slathered the lotion on three noses and three pairs of cheeks, ears, and bare arms. She was just finishing their already bronzed legs when Grant appeared around the opposite side of the house.
“There’re my girls!” He held out his arms.
Three identical squeals of “Poppa!” and they escaped to take turns getting tossed in the air by their doting grandpa.
“Careful, Dad. They’re all slick with sunscreen.”
“They are?” Grant threw Simone into the air and pretended to let her slip through his hands, catching her at the last possible moment. “Wow, you’re right, they’re slippery little eels.”
Simone giggled and got in line for another toss.
“Be careful, Grant.”
“I wouldn’t hurt these little eels for the world.”
“I don’t think it’s the eels Mom’s worried about,” Corinne said wryly.
He gave her a sidewise glance. “Hey, don’t you be calling your old man old.”
Corinne and Audrey exchanged grins. It still warmed her heart to see Grant with his granddaughters. He’d been a wonderful father to their girls, but as “Poppa” he was in his element.
Sadie trotted over to Corinne. “Put more on me, Mommy. I’m not slickery enough.”
“You are plenty slickery.”
“Please?”
Corinne squeezed out an all-but-invisible amount of lotion and “slathered” it on her daugh
ter. Of course, Sari and Simone had to get in line for extra “slickery.”
After ten minutes Grant was worn out. He shooed the girls off to the meadow between the deck and the creek. “You can play on the tire swing, but you stay where we can see you now, you hear?”
He limped over to where Audrey and Corinne were ensconced in red cushioned lawn chairs at a round table, and plopped into a lounge chair across from them. “You Whitman kids better hurry up and get your quota of grandkids delivered up because I’m not getting any younger.”
Corinne made a cross of her index fingers and held them up as if warding off a vampire. “Don’t look at me. I’m done delivering.”
Audrey and Grant laughed.
He jumped up again. “I need something cold to drink. You ladies want some sweet tea?”
“Sure, I’d take some,” Corinne said.
Audrey declined, eager to get this mysterious conversation going.
A few minutes later, Grant returned with two tall glasses and a box of store-bought cookies. This time he moved to a chair at the table between her and Corinne.
He patted Corinne’s hand. “So what’s going on, kiddo?”
Their daughter looked at the table, fingering the edge of the paper napkin her drink was resting on. “I’m not sure where to start.”
* * *
Tears welled in her eyes, but Corinne swallowed hard and blinked them away. She’d hoped to keep this as low-key as possible, but the concern mirrored on her parents’ faces as she’d shared the details of the ordeal made it seem more serious even than she’d dared believe.
“You’ve got to put a stop to this,” Dad said, gripping the edge of the table before pushing himself to standing. He paced the patio, fists balled at his sides.
“I agree, Corinne.” Her mom shook her head. “That woman has to be stopped before she ruins your lives.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t know what we can do. Jesse feels pretty certain Sadie just made up the story about Michaela taking her and Simone in her car. As much as I’d like to believe Sadie so we could press charges, it does seem a little far-fetched. And if we accused Michaela and she turned out to be innocent—”
“No, that wouldn’t be good,” her dad agreed. “But you can’t just let her manipulate the situation this way.”
“It’s her word against Jesse’s, Dad.”
“Well, that’s easy,” Mom said. “There’s not a person in this town who wouldn’t defend Jesse Pennington to the death.”
She bit her lip. “If it goes before a judge or a jury”—she shuddered at the thought—“they won’t necessarily know Jesse.”
“Oh, surely it won’t go that far.” Mom rose and started gathering tea glasses.
Just then the girls came up from the meadow. Corinne gave a halting nod, meant to signal her parents not to discuss this in front of the girls, but Sari eyed her suspiciously.
“Are you talkin’ about that lady you and Daddy don’t like?”
Corinne sputtered and tried to change the subject. “Are you girls ready to go home? You need to gather up your things and—”
“No! Not yet.”
“Not yet home, Mommy,” Simone parroted.
“Just a few more minutes, girls.”
Sadie spied the cookie box on the table. “Can . . . May we have a cookie, please?”
“Of course.” Mom doled out cookies while the girls climbed up on the picnic bench. “Let Gram get you some juice to go with that, too.” She hurried in to the kitchen.
While Corinne got the girls settled at the table, her dad teased the girls like always. But it was clear he was distracted.
It disturbed her that the girls—Sari at least—had overheard more than they realized. She’d have to talk to Jesse tonight and decide what they were going to tell them. She recalled when her uncle and aunt, Mom’s brother and his wife, had gone through a divorce when she was seven or eight. The whispered conversations her parents had then had frightened her and made her worry that something was wrong between them. She didn’t want her girls to think something similar.
Her dad came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “You hang in there, honey. Mom and I will be praying.”
“Are you praying for that lady?”
Corinne turned to see that Sadie had wedged herself between her and her dad’s legs.
Dad gave Corinne an apologetic look. “We’re praying for all our kids, pumpkin. We always do.”
“And that lady, too?” Sadie pressed.
He hesitated, then, “Yes. That lady too.”
“She needs it,” Corinne mouthed over her daughters’ heads.
The smile her dad gave her made her feel a little better.
A little.
16
Jesse knocked on the jamb of the open door and stepped into Frank’s office.
His boss was on the phone and Jesse gave him an apologetic look and turned to leave. Monday was never the best day to try to meet with Frank. But he held up a hand and motioned for Jesse to have a seat. He quickly ended his phone conversation and turned his attention to Jesse.
Jesse glanced toward the still-open door. “Mind if I close this?”
“Sure.”
Jesse leaned and gave the door a gentle push. It closed, but he kept his voice low. “I wanted to ask if there’s been anything new with Michaela’s . . . charges against me?”
Frank shook his head, looking somber. “Nothing’s changed as far as I know. Either way. Why?”
“She stopped and talked to Corinne in the grocery store last Friday. Acted like nothing had happened. Like they should be on friendly terms.”
“You’re kidding?”
“I wish I was, Frank. Unfortunately, that’s not all. I hesitate to say anything because we can’t prove it, but . . .” He bit a corner of his lip, still unsure how much he should tell his boss. He gave him the short version of what had happened at Corinne’s sister’s house.
Frank raised a brow. “That seems a little out of character—even for Michaela, don’t you think? I mean, really . . . kidnapping?”
“Well, I’m not ready to label it that yet. I . . . I don’t know what to think. But then, I never thought she’d file such ridiculous charges against me either.”
“I won’t tell you what to do, Jesse, but if I were you, I’d want to be pretty certain she actually did something like that before I went making any accusations.”
“I know. But as you can imagine, my wife is pretty freaked out by all this.”
“Understandably so.”
Frank rose and came around the corner of his desk, and Jesse sensed he was being dismissed. Had his boss decided to just distance himself from the whole situation? Or had something else happened to turn Frank cool toward him?
Jesse followed suit and stood. “I just wanted you to be aware.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
Reaching for the door, Jesse hesitated. “One more question. How, exactly, is this being . . . handled?”
Frank glanced pointedly at the clock. “Unless she files those papers with the State, we’re just going to consider that it was her way of warning you, and as long as you steer clear of her, we’ll consider it handled in-house. Done and over with.”
“Where was she last week?”
“In Chicago. All week. So I was a little surprised to hear that your wife saw her in town Friday. She was traveling with Monica Perez, and I thought they were staying over the weekend, but they must have changed their minds. Or at least she did. But I know she’s back in Chicago this week because she called with a question about an order first thing this morning. Carl wasn’t in yet, so she talked to me.”
“Okay.” He took his hand off the doorknob.
“You aren’t going to talk to her—about what happened with your daughters?”
Jesse shook his head. “Not yet. I . . . I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”
“Okay, well, let me know if you hear from the State o
r have any other issues with her. I trust this won’t affect your working relationship here. It won’t do anyone any good if we have to tiptoe around each other because of this.”
He cleared his throat. “I understand. And I don’t want to make a big deal about this, but as you can imagine, it’s a little tense working in the same office with her as long as this threat of a lawsuit is hanging over me.”
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?”
“I don’t really know that there’s anything you could do.” Except maybe transfer her to the Toronto branch. Or fire her sorry, sue-happy butt. “To be honest, I’m more concerned about what will happen the next time we’re both scheduled to travel to the same trade show or sales meeting.”
Frank shook his head and all but rolled his eyes. “I have enough trouble keeping everybody happy with the travel schedule. I can’t let something like this dictate the rest of the office’s travel schedules. This is something you’re simply going to have to work out.”
“Of course.” Jesse studied his boss. Maybe it was his imagination, but he felt Frank’s loyalty fading by degrees. “Well . . . Thanks. I wish this whole thing had never come up.”
“Believe me, we all do.” Frank turned his back and walked around his desk.
A little shell-shocked, Jesse started down the hall back to his own office, but he was afraid he saw writing on the wall. He couldn’t quite read it clearly, but he feared it said something about his days at Preston-Brilon being numbered.
He couldn’t fathom traveling with Michaela Creeve again, given the circumstances. But after the way this meeting had gone, it wouldn’t surprise him if Frank forced the issue and scheduled him on a trip with Michaela. Just to smoke one of them out.
And it wouldn’t be Michaela.
Back at his desk, he plotted the possible scenarios and came up with one conclusion. He could not stay at Preston-Brilon. Even if Michaela left, he sensed that Frank’s estimation of him had taken a nosedive.
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