Barbecue and Bad News

by Nancy Naigle

  Evelyn’s voice lost its soft tone and now it sounded like all business. “Now you listen up. Stop that ‘woe is me’ stuff. This is going to all work out. Trust your heart and don’t give in.”

  When Savannah got to her apartment, rather than unpack, she walked around, assessing what she’d need to move. No job. No corporate apartment. There wasn’t even anything here she was too attached to. Whatever was in her future, it wasn’t going to be here.

  She still needed to be sure all of that information from the mural got to Scott.

  “One more thing I’ve done wrong.” She knew she should have told him right then and there. He was going to be furious. Or maybe not. Maybe he’d just figure she was a complete mess, and he was right.

  Savannah picked up her phone and googled the phone number to Happy Balance.

  There was no answer, so she left a message. “Hey, Jenn. It’s Savannah. Did you get with Scott about the mural? He’ll know what to do. Give me a call and keep me posted, okay?” She left her phone number and then she dialed Aunt Cathy’s number.

  She got her voicemail too. “Hi, Aunt Cathy, it’s me, Savannah. I thought I’d come back down in the next day or two and stay for a while. Can you help me find a place? Give me a call when you get a chance.” She tossed her phone in her purse.

  Tomorrow would be a better day.

  She climbed into bed fully clothed and didn’t even care that her shoes were on the bed.

  When she woke up the next morning, she made a pot of coffee only to realize that the industrial-strength creamer had curdled while she was away. She slammed through the cabinets and refrigerator, frustrated by it, and everything in her life.

  She was a wrinkled mess, but that didn’t matter. She pulled a brush through her hair and brushed her teeth, then grabbed her keys and headed down the block to get a cup of coffee and something to eat.

  Despite the sunshine, it felt gloomy. No one nodded or said hello this morning as she went down the street. Somehow the little café she’d been coming to forever seemed bland and unexciting. She missed the smell of Mac’s sinful treats.

  She ordered coffee—not the swanky latte that she used to get, but a regular coffee with cream and sugar. Two cups, of course. One for now, to get the motor going, and a second to enjoy.

  She sure hoped this feeling would subside once she got back to Belles Corner to visit with Aunt Cathy.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Scott sat in his car waiting. Surveillance was his strong suit. A lot of people weren’t patient enough for the task. He sipped his coffee. The subject had entered the apartment building about ten minutes ago.

  It was easy to blend in with so many cars on the road.

  Timing was still critical, though. He knew that.

  He took the elevator to the fourth floor and stood in front of apartment 4E. He’d served hundreds and hundreds of warrants over the years, but today he planned to not only deliver this paper, but stay and see that it was followed to the letter.

  He pulled an envelope from his shirt pocket and slipped out the trifolded paper inside.

  Raising his hand to knock, his heart thrummed so loudly he wondered if he even needed to bother to knock. He took a breath. Noticing a stream of light from under the door, he stooped and slipped the paper underneath.

  He let out a slow breath, trying to calm himself, then knocked and waited for a response.

  Quick footsteps from inside the apartment came closer, then stopped short.

  Savannah stopped and picked up the slip of paper someone had slid beneath the door. Probably another menu or political something or other.

  She unfolded the white paper as she headed back into the living room, but the first two words made her stop.

  Dear Van,

  She glanced back toward the door and then at the letter and read on.

  What advice do you give to a man who has met the woman of his dreams, but needs a second chance? She’s his perfect match in every way. After being apart from her for just a few days, he knows that he will love her always and in all ways.

  She’s getting ready to renew her lease on an apartment that is hours away from him, and he wants her back.

  Savannah walked over to the door and looked out the peephole. Scott was leaning against the wall across the hall. It sent her pulse spinning. Another look and she could see he hadn’t slept much the last couple of days either. He looked like hell. Why did that make her feel a little hopeful? She bit down on her lower lip, stepped away from the door, and read on.

  Do you have any advice on how they could make a long-distance relationship work? Or better yet, advice on how to get her to reconsider moving closer where I can hold her in my arms again night after night?

  Okay, I’m that guy. I want that second chance . . . with you . . . and I have a better lease for you to consider. I’d even let you add your blue car to my cool collection and drive me around with the top down in the Mustang at all hours of the night over the speed limit, because I am just that crazy in love with you. I’ll even burn perfectly good meat if that’s the way you want it.

  Let me be your April Fool forever.

  Signed,

  Desperate(ly in love)

  She took in a deep breath. It was unexpected. It was perfect.

  He knocked on the door with the back of his knuckle and hoped this was going to work.

  She opened the door still clinging to the letter, but he couldn’t read the expression on her face. He’d hoped for a smile.

  His voice cracked. “I’m sorry. I don’t care about the past. Can we try this again?”

  She looked hesitant.

  “I want you to come back to Adams Grove. There are a lot of people already missing you there . . . especially me. If you could live there . . . in that little town . . . you could make me the happiest guy around.”

  “I wasn’t there that long.”

  “You made a big impact,” he said. “On more than just me.”

  She smiled. “I feel inspired there, and I really am going to write a book someday.”

  “I’m sorry I accused you of lying about the book. That wasn’t fair.”

  “It’s okay. We both said things that weren’t nice. At least you didn’t put yours in a newspaper.”

  “Doesn’t make it any better. There’s something else I need to tell you,” he said.

  His serious tone scared her a little. “It doesn’t matter.” Do I even want to know?

  “This matters. I don’t know if Brooke and Jenn have come to you yet, but that information you put together. On the mural I told you to leave alone—”

  “I don’t take direction well.”

  “No kidding, but in this case, I’m thankful. You were right. Those clues tie to the little girl, Christina, who went missing.”

  “Is it good news?”

  “Uh-huh. You’re a good detective too. Those letters that Brooke put together? They also formed a sentence once you gave her the name Christina.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. It said ‘Christina is alive. Gardeners lawyer knows too.’”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Who is the gardener?”

  “Frank Gotorow’s cell mate. His last name was Gardener. I met with him that day we went to the award ceremony in northern Virginia.”

  “You already knew?”

  “No. I was looking for information on Gotorow; that’s why I wanted to talk to his cell mate. I thought he might shed some light. Until Jenn and Brooke brought all this to me, Jelly was the only one who had come to me about the mural. Poor guy was worried to death about it. He might be a bit on the peculiar side, but the man has a good heart and he knew there was something important in it.”

  “The clues were easy to miss. Brooke never could see them.”

  “I didn’t see half what y’all did. I don�
�t know how long it would have taken for me to put this together without your help.”

  Savannah’s mouth was dry, making it hard to swallow. “I know I was overstepping boundaries. I hope you’re not mad.”

  “Mad? I’m thankful you didn’t listen to me. You might also like to know that the person leaving all the poetry on the doors around town was Jelly. I’d figured that much out.”

  “I didn’t see that coming. I figured it was some kid on a poetic journey,” Savannah said. “I was way off on that one. But the murals, they just begged for my attention. I couldn’t stop.”

  “Thank goodness for that. It wasn’t until y’all brought me those missing pieces that I realized the clues in the murals were tied to the crime that Gotorow’s cell mate committed. Not Gotorow. It must have been part of the reason Gotorow ended up in Adams Grove. I’ve been working that case to find little Christina for three years. When Brooke and Jenn came to me with all of those notes and images y’all had worked on, everything fell right into place.”

  “Oh, my . . . Scott, is Christina really alive?”

  “Yes. Thanks to you, she’ll be reunited with her mother.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah. Gardener snatched her and sold her for private adoption to his lawyer to pay for his services.”

  “His lawyer?”

  “Well, he was disbarred last year for an unrelated incident, but yes. That’s how Gardener paid his lawyer. Not only will we reunite Christina with her mother, but the trail for that lawyer has unlocked several other potential cases. You brought peace to Adams Grove, Savannah, and to a lot of other families.”

  “That’s why the image of the door was beyond the garden. Gardener was the doorway to the information.” She spoke a silent Wow. “I feel bad for the people who have to give those children up now. Three years? Did they have her the whole time? I’m sure they had no idea.”

  “No. They had no idea. They are as much victims here as the parents, but I have a feeling all parties will be amicable about keeping those connections. Jack is with Christina right now. The people who had adopted her are upset, but they’re not stalling at all.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “Thank you,” he said. He took her hand. “Savannah, Jack’s kind of counting on you taking over the paper too. Like right now.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “It’s nothing short of a miracle. For Christina. For us. I want to try this again. Can you?”

  “I think so. Scott, you remind me of the good things I left behind, and you make me feel safe from the bad things. Momma would have adored you, and my dad would have been your best buddy. Cars, boats, and all. The bad news is . . .” Savannah raised the letter in front of her. “I can’t answer this letter.”

  His heart dropped. She wasn’t going to come back. It was over. He’d missed his opportunity, and damn if he couldn’t ever get this love stuff right. He let out a breath. “I understand.” He took a short step back.

  “No. I don’t think you do.”

  His hopes cautiously grew. “What do you mean?”

  “I told you I quit that job. Us not getting together didn’t change that. There’s some guy downtown that answers these letters right now, and quite frankly I don’t think he’s going to give you the right advice.”

  “Are you saying . . . ?”

  “I’m saying, let’s do this.”

  “That’s not bad news. That’s headline news. You know better than to bury the lead.”

  “The good kind of news. Worthy of the Gazette.”

  “You should still buy that paper. If it doesn’t work out for some reason for us, that town loves you. You belong in Adams Grove.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I do.”

  “I’m going to make my life in your town, Sheriff. I’m going to buy that paper from Jack, and we better get busy because I think we have a campaign to get started.”

  He stepped slowly toward her, and she walked right into his arms. “I’ve got some news for you, Savannah Dey.”

  “Uh-oh. Is it good or bad?”

  “Depends on how you look at it.” He held her close, resting his cheek on hers and whispered into her ear, “I have no intention of ever letting you get away again.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’m so thankful to all of you for sharing my love for the small homespun community of Adams Grove. Like old friends, you welcome each story into your heart, and you’ve made my journey such a blessed one.

  A special thank-you to my amazing Montlake family—the publishing team and the authors—who were so helpful as I pulled myself together after the passing of my husband earlier this year. Your support meant so much to me, and I’m honored to be a part of such an innovative and creative group of people. You continually push me to new limits and make me a better writer.

  To Pam, a tour de force when it comes to organizing and getting it done. You not only kept me on my feet during the most difficult times of my life, but camped out with me as I finished this book in the middle of moving and retiring from a sixteen-year career to pursue my dream of becoming a full-time writer. You never doubted that I could make it all happen in this amazing year of change, and I would never let you down. Thank you for being such a special friend. You truly inspire me to be a better me. Quit being so perfect!

  To my amazing author friends, especially (in alphabetical order because I know how competitive all y’all are!) Kelsey Browning, Grace Greene, Tonya Kappes, and Tracy March, thank you for sharing your time and brilliance brainstorming new stories, titles, and marketing ideas, and for all the motivation and cheerleading as we kept on moving forward! This job ain’t for sissies. Hugs and happy writing.

  Mom, Dad, and Greta—I love you so much. You are the reason I have the confidence to pursue this dream. Thank you for the best gift of all: unconditional love.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2013 Clements Mayes

  Nancy Naigle writes love stories from the crossroads of small town and suspense. Barbecue and Bad News is the sixth novel in her contemporary romance series set in Adams Grove. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys antiquing, cooking, and spa days with her friends.

  A native of Virginia, Nancy now calls North Carolina home.