“Nash! You made it!” Hattie sidled up to the young man and made introductions. “Everyone, this is Nash Jones, the reverend’s son. I’ve hired him to come in and help out today.”
“Hello, Nash. I’m Nola.” I extended my hand, which he shook with a firm grip. I was liking the kid already. “Are you a student?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be a senior at Cays Mill High.”
“Really? Then you must know Emily Wiggins? Her folks own Red’s Diner.”
Nash dipped his chin and grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Sure do.”
Hattie raised her brows and let out a little giggle. “Anyway,” she said, after introductions were finished. “Nash is here to help with whatever we need.”
Ray jiggled the keys to my Jeep. “How about helping me carry a few loads from the car, Nash?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll help, too,” Cade said, following them through the door.
As soon as they left, Hattie turned back to me and clapped her hands together. “Well, now that the boys are out of here, I have something to show you.”
She hauled me to one of the dressing rooms and pointed to a dress hanging on the hook. “Go in there and put this on and hurry out.”
I stammered for a response, but she cut me short with a little shove. “Hurry up, now. We don’t have much time. I want to get you fixed up before the boys get back with the next load.”
A few seconds later I emerged wearing the little peach lace sundress.
Hattie gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Why, if that isn’t the cutest ever! Come over here so I can see you better.”
Joining her in front of the mirror, I twirled around, sizing up my new look. Hattie was right. With little capped sleeves, a scooped neck and a fitted bodice, the dress gave a feminine feel to my slim, boyish physique. The color was good, too. It seemed to make my blue eyes pop.
“Perfect, perfect, perfect!” Hattie was carrying on. She clasped my hand and dragged me toward the countertop. “Let me just add a few special touches now.”
I watched as she dug in her purse and pulled out a wicked-looking comb and a tube of something. She took to my short crop with the comb, teasing along my crown and then following up with a dollop of hair gel, pulling at pieces of my hair. “I’m just going to give this hair of yours a little zap of energy. Don’t worry, now. It’ll be fine.”
Trying to take her word for it, I stood motionless while she worked her way around my head, teasing and pulling. Finally she finished with the hair, dipped back into her purse and pulled out her makeup bag. “Now, for a touch of glamour.”
My hand shot up. “Oh, that’s okay,” I protested. “I’m not much for makeup.”
“Relax, will ya? And hold still,” she barked, a fully loaded mascara wand dancing preciously close to my eyeball.
The torture finished just as the shop bells jangled with the return of the guys. Snatching a pair of strappy sandals from atop the counter, she quickly stepped between me and the men. “Hurry, slip these on.”
I obeyed, tapping her on the shoulder when I was done.
She cleared her throat, getting everyone’s attention. “Excuse me, fellows. I want to introduce you to someone.”
Behind her, I rolled my eyes. She was really taking this thing too far.
She stepped aside and held out her hands like a game show hostess. “The new Nola Mae Harper, businesswoman and friend extraordinaire!”
Letting out a chuckle, I took a little bow for my audience. But when I raised my head I was surprised to see everyone staring at me with shocked expressions. “What?” I scurried back to the mirror for another look, hardly recognizing the woman who stared back at me. Hattie had worked my short hair into wispy angles that complemented my features, pronouncing my cheekbones and making my eyes appear larger and my lips look full and pouty. Or maybe it wasn’t the hair bringing out those features, but the way she’d accented my eyes and highlighted the angles of my face with makeup. Whatever it was, I liked the final result.
Apparently so did Cade. In the mirror, behind my own reflection, I noticed his eyes riveted on me. I stood motionless, my heart thudding as he took me in like a long drink of cool water.
Hattie stepped between us, breaking his trance. “Well, what do y’all think? Perfect for her big debut today, don’t ya think?”
“Yeah, looks great, sis,” Ray called out from across the room. He and Nash were busy trying to pull the base out on a portable table, oblivious to my transformation.
Cade, on the other hand, was anything but oblivious. “Perfect. Simply perfect,” he mumbled in a low, husky voice.
Hattie glanced back and forth between us, a gleam in her eye. “Well, I never would have imagined such an enthusiastic reaction, but I’m glad you approve, big brother.”
I felt my cheeks growing hotter and hotter and wondered if anyone else noticed they were about to burst into flames. I hastily moved toward the refreshment table, hoping some tea would cool me down.
• • •
“Is this your mama’s recipe?” Candace from the bank was standing at my festival table, scrutinizing a jar of preserves.
“Yes, ma’am. The one and only.”
“In that case, I’ll take two. Although I really shouldn’t on account of my blood sugar levels. Doc Harris said I should modify my eating habits.” She waved away his suggestion like it was a pesky fly. “Where do you suppose he gets off telling me to modify my eating habits? Have you ever sat next to him at a potluck?”
Shrugging, I took the jars and quickly wrapped them in tissue paper, placing them inside a brown-handled bag, which I tied off with a piece of red gingham ribbon. Sales had been steady, but not spectacular, with locals for the first couple hours and then slowly more people arriving from out of town as well. “Here you are,” I said, taking her money and dipping into my apron for change. “Are you having a nice time today?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation in a more positive direction, but wondering if I could try making a few jars of preserves with something sugar-free, like Stevia powder. Of course, I had to remind myself, I’d just barely gotten a grip on the regular recipe.
“Well, I would be, of course, if it weren’t for my sciatica. Boy, it sure acts up when I walk on concrete. Doc told me I should get myself some thicker soled shoes, but I just can’t find any pretty ones,” she started whining.
“Was Hollis at the bank this morning?” I asked, cutting her short. I wasn’t raised to be so rude, but Candace could go on about her ailments forever.
At the mention of Hollis, her eyes popped and her mouth pursed into a perfect little O.
“What is it, Candace? Is something going on with Hollis?”
She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head from side to side.
I narrowed my eyes. “I know he’s your boss and I do admire your loyalty, Candace. But he’s my sister’s husband. He’s family. If something’s going on, I should know about it. Don’t you think?”
“Your sister already knows. I made sure of it.”
Now I was really curious. However, while Candace may freely tell you more than you’d ever want to know about her own personal medical conditions, she wasn’t one to spout off about other people’s business. She was discreet. A great quality for someone who worked in a bank and one of the main reasons Hollis had kept her on all these years.
“You know, Candace, Ida hasn’t been herself these days, what with the baby and all.” Grabbing an extra jar of preserves, I started carefully wrapping it in tissue. “Honestly, I’ve been quite worried about her.”
“You have?”
“Uh-huh. All this going on with Hollis has taken a toll on her . . . and the baby.”
Candace gasped, her hand flying to her lips. “Oh Lawdy, is the baby all right?”
I let her question hang. “The whole family is so worried. Espe
cially Hollis. You know, say what you want about Hollis Shackleford, but he’s a good daddy. His children mean the world to him.”
Candace’s head bobbed up and down. “You got that right.”
Reaching out, I took back her bag and slid the newly wrapped jar in alongside the others. “Here. A gift—”
“I couldn’t.” She started to hand it back.
“No, take it, please,” I insisted, placing my hand on her arm, leveling my gaze on her. “For being such a good friend of the family.”
She bit back a little whimper and started fidgeting with the ribbon on her package. A part of me felt guilty for putting her into such a moral dilemma. Another part of me said to heck with morals; this was Hollis we were talking about. If something was going on, I needed to know. For Ida’s sake.
“He was drinking again,” she started. I had to lean in and listen closely, as her voice was barely a whisper. “Locked himself in his office and drank himself silly.”
“This morning?”
“I know. Awful. Absolutely awful. He kept mumbling something about not enough money.”
“Really?” It didn’t make any sense. Maybe Candace misunderstood.
“Oh, I feel so rotten for spreading this around. Yes, I do.”
I steadied my hand on her arm. “You’re only telling me because I’m family. And you know family has to look out for each other. Especially those precious young ones.”
Her back straightened as resolve firmly rooted itself. “That’s right. That’s why I called Ida. We were getting ready to close down, and I was worried Hollis might try to drive in his condition. I called Ida to come and get him.”
“Did she?”
Candace nodded her head. “She was so upset, but she made me promise not to tell anyone. Said she’d make arrangements to come get him soon. In the meantime, she told me to take his car keys and go ahead and lock up the bank.”
I glanced at my cell. A little before noon. Hollis was probably still in his office, sleeping it off; I doubted Ida had been able to get there yet. Looking back at Candace, I could tell she was regretting having said so much. Again I patted her arm. “You’ve done the right thing by telling me. Ida doesn’t have any business trying to manhandle Hollis when he’s in that type of condition. Think of the baby. I’ll make sure she gets the help she needs. And discreetly,” I added, offering her a quick wink, at which she gave a little sigh. I looked around for an opportunity to break away from my booth. Now I needed to call Ray and let him know where he could find the elusive Hollis; not to mention I did need a restroom break.
Finally my eyes landed on Nash, who was coming my way with a handful of money. “Excuse me,” he said, nodding to Candace. “But Ms. McKenna is sending me over to the VFW stand to pick up a couple pulled pork sandwiches. Do you want me to get you something?”
My stomach rumbled in response. “That would be wonderful, Nash, but would you mind watching my booth for a couple minutes first?” I came out from behind the table and unstrapped my money apron, passing it to him. I was hoping to find a private spot where I could call Ray. “I just need to visit the restroom. Be right back.” I excused myself and trotted into the shop.
Hattie looked up from helping a customer as I passed through. “If you’re heading for the restroom, I’m afraid there’s a line back there. Seems it’s the most popular spot in the shop this morning.”
“Uh-oh.” I simply couldn’t hold it for much longer. She mentioned the port-a-johns, with an apologetic look.
On the way back out the door, I stopped by my booth and gave Nash a quick run-down on selling preserves and made a beeline for the port-a-potties. At least the lines were short. I was able to get in and out in record time plus place a quick call to Ray, who said he’d meet Ida at the bank to help her with Hollis. Ray was good at that kind of thing. Finally I could relax a bit, quit eyeing the crowd for Hollis, and concentrate on my family’s new enterprise.
The day was so nice, it was difficult not to tarry on the way back to the boutique. Glancing down Blossom Avenue, I saw a line was already forming in the church’s parking lot with people eager for their taste of the mammoth cobbler. Perhaps a little later, I’d send Nash back out to scrounge up a bowl for me. On the yard in front of the city building, the potato sack races had just begun, cheers ringing out from the crowd as they encouraged their favorite participant. I paused for a second, remembering a few races from my own youth. I usually crossed the finish line neck and neck with Ida, each of us vying for first place. I sighed and shook my head at the memory—seemed we’d spent most of our childhood competing over one thing or another.
With all the festivities, I found myself easily distracted as I weaved my way back through the booths. Everywhere I looked was awash in bright colors: banners hanging from the lightposts, children with brightly colored balloons and a rainbow of booths dotting the side streets. The lively tunes of a popular local band, the Banjo Boys, floated in the breeze along with tempting smells of roasting peanuts, kettle corn and funnel cakes. I was heading into sensory overload! First I stopped to sniff a display of soy candles, then to admire a quilt stitched by the talented ladies of the St. Francis Altar Society and, of course, linger a bit at a booth with handsomely hand-carved fruit bowls that I knew would look perfect full of peaches and resting on Mama’s dining room table. I was just about to purchase one when a familiar pair of tight jeans caught my eye.
“Hawk. You’re back,” I said, joining him by the lemonade stand.
He glanced down at me with a smile, then back at the woman taking his order. “Add one more lemonade, would ya, darlin’?”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
Hawk paid her; then we stepped aside as she prepared our order, slicing fresh lemons. After that she’d press them through a custom squeezer that emptied the juice, lemons and all into tall plastic glasses brimming with ice along with spritzes of a sugary syrup.
Leaning against the stand, Hawk folded his arms and took in my new look. “New dress?”
“Hattie gave it to me,” I explained, smoothing out a few wrinkles that’d accumulated while I sat all morning. “I’m test-selling my new line of products today. Guess she thought I’d better look the part.”
“Well, you look real nice.”
“Thanks.” I cleared my throat and moved the conversation along. “So, Ray says you didn’t have any luck up in Macon.”
He nodded. “Seems Floyd Reeves is as slippery as a wet snake. Thought I had him pinned down at one point, but he eluded me. I’ll pick up his trail again next week. Ray wanted me to come back down and look into some other things.”
“Other things?”
“Here’s your drinks,” the woman behind the stand interrupted.
I turned to see her place three lemonades on the counter. “Three?”
As if to answer my question, Laney Burns sashayed onto the scene, her long red nails encircling the cup as she snatched it off the counter. My shocked gaze automatically wandered from her spiked heels to the top of her maxed-out head of hair, stopping for a second to ponder her latest shade of nail color. Tart Cherry, perhaps? Or Wanton Scarlett?
“Hey, there, Nola.” She flashed her best sugary smile and wrapped her free hand possessively around Hawk’s biceps. “Sweet of you to keep Hawk company while I powdered my nose, but I’m back now.”
I attempted to match her fake smile, but it was difficult with my jaw hanging halfway down my neck. Instead, I mumbled something stupid, grabbed my drink and left before someone misinterpreted the weird expression on my face. I certainly didn’t want Laney to think I was jealous. Because I wasn’t. If anything, I was disgusted. Disgusted by the fact that my brother hired an idiot. If Hawk had really left his pursuit of a suspected arsonist to come back here pursuing other leads, then why was he wasting time messing around with Laney Burns? It was possible, of course, that his interest in Laney wasn’t person
al at all. Maybe Ray asked him to check into the possibility that Laney vandalized Millicent’s car. Aw . . . I knew better than that. Hawk might be doing a little undercover work with Laney, but it wasn’t the investigating type of undercover. It was just Hawk being . . . well, Hawk. Guess some things just never changed.
Once again, I started making my way back to my booth when a frantic voice cut through the crowd. “Nola! Nola!” Off in the distance, I could see Ida running toward me, one hand on her belly and the other excitedly waving her cell in the air. Breaking into a jog, I met her halfway. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Her wild eyes searched my face as she pointed to her phone. “It’s Hollis. He’s been hurt!”
“Hold on, now,” I said, gripping her shoulders firmly. “He’s safe. He’s locked up inside the bank. Didn’t Ray call you?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t there. I came out here looking for him, but . . .” She pointed at the phone again, her fingers trembling so badly, I thought she was going to drop it.
“But what, Ida? What’s happened?”
“He called me.”
“And what did he say?”
Her hand flew to her cheek. “Oh, Nola. I could hardly make heads or tails out of what he was saying, he was so drunk. But he was moaning something awful. Like he was in pain. I just know there’s been some sort of terrible accident. I told his secretary to take his keys, but he must have had a spare set somewhere.”
“His car’s not at the bank?”
She shook her head.
I scanned the crowd again, but the noise and the crush of the onlookers for the tug-of-war made locating Hollis next to impossible. “Where’s Ray?”
“He met up with Cade and they’re both out looking.”
Hawk caught up to us, his own cell phone to his ear. “Okay. Will do,” he said, disconnecting. “That was Ray. He told me what’s going on. So far, no sign of Hollis.”
Ida let out a short sob. Then another and another. She was working up to hysterics.
“Listen,” I intervened. “I’m sure he’s okay. He’s probably just sick from drinking. Did you call him back?”
Peaches and Scream (Georgia Peach Mystery, A) Page 23