by Marta Perry
Krysta nodded slowly. “I get it. You’re right.” She jumped to her feet, all her energy restored. “Thanks, Allison. You’ve been really nice, especially after...well, everything.” She swooped over to press her cheek against Allison’s. “It’s good to have a cousin who knows what’s what.” She grabbed another snickerdoodle and darted out the door, leaving Allison to stare at a tableful of crumbs.
So, she knew what was what, did she? Then why did she spend so much time trying to figure out what to do with herself?
* * *
“HAVE THE DISHWASHER here by tomorrow morning, or I’ll get it from someone else.” Nick hung up the phone with a decided click. He preferred to deal with a local business, but Tom Walker’s empty promises were starting to get old. The countertop couldn’t be installed until the appliances were in, and Tom had promised the dishwasher would be here two days ago.
Closing the office door behind him, Nick reached the hall in time to see Krysta Conner emerge from the quilt shop, sling her backpack on and head out the front door. Frowning, he looked after her. He didn’t actually suspect Krysta of any complicity, but someone seemed intent on driving Allison away from Laurel Ridge, and Brenda Conner had the most to gain, he’d think.
Making a quick decision, he strode across the wide hall to the quilt shop. He ought to find out what Krysta had wanted. That was all. His visit had nothing to do with wanting to see Allison again.
Inside, he gave a quick glance around. Sarah was putting some bolts of fabric back in their racks, and her mother sat by the window with a quilt patch on her lap. Allison was nowhere to be seen.
“Nick.” Sarah greeted him with amusement crinkling her eyes. “Allison is in the back room.” She exchanged glances with Hannah, who seemed equally amused. Apparently he was being obvious.
“Okay, quit it, both of you.”
“Quit what?” Sarah was all innocence.
“You know what I mean. I just want to ask Allison something, that’s all.”
Sarah nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “Ja, I’m sure.”
He gave up. Sarah had known him all his life, and there was no point in trying to convince her she was wrong in her reading of him. Especially when she wasn’t.
“I’ll just...” He headed for the back room, skirting the long aisles of quilt fabrics and hearing a soft chuckle behind him. Women liked to match-make, and Sarah was as bad as any of them. She meant well, but she couldn’t understand how complicated it was for him.
He found Allison balancing on her crutches while trying to wipe off the table. “Here, let me do that.”
She seemed to go still for an instant at the sound of his voice, and then she looked up and smiled. “Thanks.” She surrendered the cloth, his hand brushing hers in the process.
Reminding himself to rein in his response didn’t seem to help. “Snickerdoodles make a lot of crumbs, but they’re worth it.” He brushed the crumbs into the trash can and then proceeded to make some more by grabbing a cookie from the plate. “How can you stand there and resist them?”
“Because I don’t have the metabolism of a teenager any longer,” she said. “Apparently you do,” she added as he took another cookie.
“Hey, I do a lot of physical labor,” he said, grinning.
“Thanks to these things, I can’t do any.” Allison slapped the crutches irritably.
“It won’t be for long,” he said. “I saw Krysta leaving. What was she doing here?” He didn’t succeed in quashing the edge of suspicion in his voice.
“She brought me these.” Allison picked up a spray of flowers that lay on the table. “I was about to put them in a vase, but I can’t reach it. Do you mind?” She pointed to an upper shelf.
“Got it.” He pulled a milk glass vase from the shelf and took it to the sink. “I’ll take care of these. Sit down and tell me about Krysta’s visit. I thought she had a hate on for you.”
Allison handed him the daisies and carnations without argument and sat in the padded rocker with a little sigh. She’d been doing too much, obviously.
“Let me.” Nick pulled over the stool she was reaching for and gently lifted her bandaged foot onto it. “This ankle is pretty swollen. You’ve been on it too much.”
“Stop sounding like my mother and stick those flowers in some water.” She shook her head. “Sorry. Not being able to do what I need to is making me irritable.”
“You should have heard me barking at one of the suppliers,” he said. “You don’t have a corner on irritability.” He filled the vase with water and stuffed the flowers into it. “So, what did Krysta want, besides being an errand girl?”
“You’re assuming the flowers were from her mother, aren’t you? I did, too. Turns out Brenda had nothing to do with it. According to Krysta, her mother is being unreasonable.”
“Well, I can’t argue the point.” Yanking a chair from the table, he pulled it around so that he could sit facing Allison, carefully avoiding the bandaged ankle. “It beats me why Brenda cares about Blackburn House so much. After all, she scooped the rest of the pie, and she’s only a niece.”
He studied Allison’s face, or as much of it as he could see. She’d averted it, staring down at her hands.
“Hey, what are you brooding about? You’re not thinking she deserved Blackburn House, too, are you?”
“No, no, not that.” She looked up, seemingly startled by the question. “I just don’t like having someone really dislike me. I’ve run into professional jealousy before, but this is personal.”
Nick frowned, considering it. “Yeah, it is personal, but it’s Brenda’s problem. Evelyn was very good to her, you know. If she hadn’t stepped in when Brenda was left high and dry after her husband died, Brenda would have had a rough time of it.”
“That’s what Krysta said. I hadn’t realized. I suppose I thought that Brenda had come here to take care of Evelyn, not the other way around.”
He snorted. “Evelyn never wanted anyone to take care of her. She was a law unto herself, believe me. I keep forgetting that you don’t know all about the family.”
“No, I don’t.”
He wasn’t sure what those three words expressed. Anger? Regret?
“Well, at least don’t start thinking you’ve deprived Brenda and Krysta of anything by coming here. They’re well-off, and Evelyn wanted you to have Blackburn House.”
Allison nodded and leaned her head against the tall, padded back of the rocker. “I know. And I’ve given up trying to understand Brenda. If she was behind that job offer, she might have—”
“Wait a second.” He stopped her. “What job offer?”
Allison looked confused for an instant. “I guess I didn’t tell you or Mac about that, did I? I received a job inquiry from a recruiter on the West Coast, completely unsolicited. It struck me as odd, so I called the man to ask how he’d gotten my name. He insisted he couldn’t divulge that information, but when I asked about Laurel Ridge, I’m sure he reacted.”
“Why do you connect Brenda with it?”
“Because Ralph said he’d heard I was relocating to San Francisco. When I pressed him about it, he said he’d heard Brenda mention it.”
Nick tried to imagine Brenda pulling those sorts of strings and failed. “It doesn’t sound like her. Far more the kind of thing Thomas Blackburn would do.”
“That’s what Sarah said. But how would Brenda know about it, in that case?”
“They both have an interest in seeing you give up your inheritance. They could have concocted it together, although I wouldn’t expect Blackburn to confide in Brenda.” Nick studied Allison’s face. “What did you say?”
She gave him a blank look. “What?”
“What did you tell the recruiter?” He shouldn’t feel so upset at the thought of Allison leaving. She was bound to, sooner or later.
“I told him no.” She shrugged. “I’m not going away, at least not until everything is resolved here.”
“Brenda.” He repeated the name slowly, and then shook his head. He couldn’t quite imagine it. “We know she was here on Saturday morning.”
“Yes, but when I glanced down from the top of the stairs, I saw her. I don’t think she could have planted the broom and made it to where she was in the time available.”
“Maybe not, but she might have had someone do it for her.”
“If you’re thinking of Krysta, that’s ridiculous.” Allison’s tone was sharp. Apparently Krysta had made an impression on her.
“Why?” He kept his voice mild. “From what I know about her, she’s a spoiled kid with a grudge against you—”
“No. Well, maybe Krysta is spoiled, but she’s come around where I’m concerned. She doesn’t understand why her mother is holding on to a grudge about my inheritance.” Allison looked as if she defied him to say otherwise. “Anyway, she couldn’t have done that business with the broom for the same reason Brenda couldn’t. She was standing with her mother, and I don’t see how either of them could have managed it. The only way they could have made it to where they were standing would have been to come down the front stairs, and surely they wouldn’t risk that.”
Nick had to agree, although he wasn’t entirely convinced of Krysta’s change of heart. Still, Allison was right. The person who planted the broom couldn’t have come down the front stairs without raising immediate suspicion when Allison fell.
“That’s a valid point.” He leaned toward her, hands planted on his knees. He wasn’t going to risk touching her. “I just wish you’d be careful. Our efforts to keep an eye on you don’t seem to be meeting with much success.”
Her gaze met his, and the moment seemed to flow into slow motion. She caught her breath. Blinked. “I’ll be careful. Krysta did admit one thing to me when I asked her. T.J. was back by the bookshop when I fell. Within easy reach of the back stairs.”
“T.J. Now, that I can easily imagine. That kid is nothing but trouble.”
“Krysta believes in him.”
“How many seventeen-year-old girls have good judgment about guys?” He let his skepticism show. “T.J. has had brushes with the law more than once, and he always skates out with a little help from his grandfather.”
“Krysta says he’s troubled. He blames his father for his mother’s suicide, and his grandfather is constantly putting pressure on him.” Her face was flushed. “You can hardly blame him for acting out with a family situation like that.”
“He’s old enough to be responsible for his own actions.” He clung to his opinion.
“I suppose you were a model citizen at seventeen. You can’t assume—”
He grinned suddenly, hearing them as if he listened to two other people. “I can’t believe we’re arguing about T. J. Blackburn, of all people.”
Her expression eased, as the battle lines disappeared. “You’re right. Believe me, I’ve no particular love for T.J.” Allison’s lips tightened, making him wonder what she knew about the kid that put that expression on her face. “But why would he do it? It doesn’t sound as if he’d go out of his way to oblige his grandfather.”
“Who knows? Sheer cussedness, maybe. The point is that he could have done it. He was in the right place. And Brenda and Krysta couldn’t. So we’ve narrowed it down a little.”
“I guess so.” She frowned slightly. “We’re assuming the trap was intended for me. But what if it was meant for someone else?”
Against his better judgment, he reached out and touched her hand. It turned in immediate response, clasping his. “I’d like to think that, but honestly, who else? You’re the one whose presence here is a threat.”
“I suppose.” Her fingers tightened on his, and she stared down at their linked hands. “It’s uncomfortable, thinking that someone wants me out of the way that much. But Brenda? She’s so...well, ineffectual.”
“I know. And Thomas Blackburn is a pillar of the community. But even people like that can act irrationally when something they want is threatened. And if we grant that your grandmother uncovered something wrong here in Blackburn House, it opens up a whole field of possibilities.”
Allison rubbed her forehead with her free hand. “It’s making me dizzy, as the song goes. I don’t know what to think about anyone.” Her gaze met his. “Except Sarah, of course. And you.”
The heat was starting to sizzle between them again, and it wasn’t safe. He put her hand down carefully. “You know, maybe you ought to leave—”
“I won’t.” Anger flared in her face. “Are you seriously suggesting that I give up? Let Brenda have my inheritance? Never find out what really happened to my grandmother or why I was attacked?”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” He clung to the sudden enmity between them, because it was better than the alternative if he expected to keep his heart whole. “I just meant you could leave for a short time. Surely the will doesn’t mean that you have to stay put every day for a year. It would be reasonable to take a short break. Tell everyone you want to see your own doctor about your injuries. Tell them you have to go back to Philadelphia to settle things there. Tell them anything, just get out of reach of whoever this nut is.”
“No.” She held up her hand to cut off any protests. “Going away now would be an admission that I’m afraid of whoever is doing this, and I won’t do it.”
“If you aren’t afraid, you should be.” His fear for her was fraying his temper.
“I’m afraid, all right. But I’m not giving anyone the satisfaction of knowing it.”
“Afraid and stubborn,” he said. “And the stubbornness is winning. Sometimes it’s best to be cautious.”
She shook her head. “I’m not trying to be reckless. Or brave. But tell me this—why would my going away for a week or two solve anything? When I came back, the problem would still be here.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Little though he wanted to admit it. “I just thought...”
“You wanted to protect me. That’s sweet, but it’s my problem, isn’t it?”
It wasn’t just that he wanted to protect her, but there was no point in saying so. He rose and stood looking down at her for a moment. Stubborn woman. And the feelings she aroused in him were equally stubborn. Well, he’d just have to try harder to resist, because he couldn’t risk his son’s happiness on someone who might leave, just like his mother had.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A COUPLE OF quiet days did wonders for Allison’s state of mind, to say nothing of her ankle. It was still strapped and tended to swell when she’d been on her feet for a time, but at least she’d been able to give up the crutches.
Life seemed to have returned to normal at Blackburn House. If Mac was still investigating, she saw little evidence of it. People came and went with only the occasional wary glance at the staircase. And Nick Whiting avoided her.
She couldn’t mistake it. Ever since that moment when the attraction had flared so strongly, he’d been careful not to be alone with her. Irritation prickled. Did he think she was going to throw herself at him?
Well, fine. She could take a hint. Besides, she had enough to concentrate on at the moment. If Sarah would cooperate...
The camera she had slung around her neck bumped against her breastbone as she navigated the doors, cautious not to move too fast.
“Allison! You’re walking without the crutches.” Sarah’s mother came toward her, beaming. “That’s wonderful gut.”
Sarah hurried out from behind the counter. “I’m so glad you’re better. But you mustn’t try to do too much.”
“I won’t,” she promised. “Believe me, the ankle reminds me if I get too ambitious.” To say nothing of the assorted bruises that were turning graphic
shades of yellow.
“You brought a camera.” Sarah’s expression was wary. “You know that Amish don’t want their pictures taken, ain’t so?”
“That’s all right.” Allison realized she had heard that at some point, but she’d forgotten. “It’s the quilts I want to take photos of, not people.”
Relief washed over Sarah’s face. It seemed there were unanticipated pitfalls in a partnership between English and Amish.
“Why pictures of the quilts?” Hannah’s blue eyes brightened with curiosity.
Allison sucked in a breath, hoping she wasn’t going to run up against another Amish prohibition. “If we’re going to put something about the shop on the internet, we should post photos of the various quilts. You said I could try, remember?”
“I said we’d talk about it.” Sarah was hesitant. “What will people think?”
“Ach, don’t be foolish, Sarah.” Hannah was brisk. “We’ve already been through this. Plenty of Amish businesses advertise on the internet—some of them in our own church district. Besides, it will be Allison doing it, not you.”
“That’s right, Sarah.” Allison took quick advantage of the support. “I can take care of the whole effort. And think how good it would be to have another outlet for sales.”
Sarah looked from her mother to Allison and nodded. “All right, if you think so. But I’d be surprised if someone would buy a quilt without touching it and seeing it up close.”
“You’d be astonished if you knew how much internet shopping goes on,” Allison told her. “Some of my friends don’t even go to the store for their groceries.”
Sarah shook her head. She was probably just humoring Allison by agreeing. She’d clearly be astonished if this project worked out as well as Allison hoped.
“I’ll get started, then.” Allison moved to the double bed display area. “I’ll just do a few to start with, and I’d like to post some information about the pattern and maybe even about the quilter, if that would be allowed.”