The world seemed to still around me. This was what I’d been waiting to know. This was what had started it all. And suddenly, it made sense. “She came to tell Granny about you,” I realized. “She wanted to warn us the way Farmer Bentley had warned her.” My eyes stung and blurred as a wave of emotion threatened to pull me under. “And you killed her! What is wrong with you? How could you do that? For what? For some oil company? For your gambling debts?” An ugly sob wrenched from my chest and the tears fell in a hot deluge. How had I been so stupid as to think her son or Hank would have done this? I should’ve known to follow the money trail.
Mr. Sherman turned for me, striding into my personal space and looking as if he might like to kill me after all. “I didn’t mean it,” he demanded, eyes cold and hard with warning. “She wouldn’t listen, and she ran. I followed her to your place, hoping to talk some sense into her. To try to calm her down.” His Adam’s apple bobbed long and slow. “I chased her into that little building, and she slapped me. I caught her arm before she did it again, but she struggled, and she fell on those stupid platform heels. She hit her head on the metal press and didn’t get back up. I didn’t know what to do. It was an accident.”
“So you ran. You showed up for our meeting later that day as if nothing had happened, and you were going to let my granny take the fall for your crime.”
“This orchard was already in financial distress,” he said matter-of-factly. “With your granny in jail, she would have been forced to sell. She’d need the money for her attorneys. I’d buy the property for the oil company as planned, and she’d eventually be set free because she didn’t do it. Things could have worked out. It could have been a win-win, if you hadn’t started poking around.”
“Yeah, a real win-win,” I scoffed. “Tell that to Mrs. Cooper and her family.” I imagined the scenario he’d described. Following her to our orchard. Lurking, waiting for a chance to make her see what he wanted. I pictured him hidden in the trees, and another puzzle piece fell in line. “You’re the one who poisoned our trees. You wanted to convince Granny they were sick or dying so she’d be more discouraged and likely to sell. You probably assumed Granny would be an easy target since the orchard was struggling financially already. You thought the dying trees would seal the deal.”
His face went red. “Close your eyes. You’ve got your answers. Now you’re out of time.”
I desperately scanned the room, taking in my last sights, remembering my life’s details so vividly I was sure I could take them with me. “Please don’t do this.”
A small orange kitten crouched beside him.
A very stupid idea came to mind, but it was the only idea I had. I braced my feet against the floor and hunkered in my seat.
Dolly launched.
Mr. Sherman screamed as she climbed wildly up his pant leg with razor sharp claws.
I threw myself backward, slamming my chair and head against the makeshift support beam with every bit of force I could muster.
The thunderous creek of weight on wood rumbled overhead and in my chest as the support beam gave way. My head jerked forward, ricocheting from the impact. My vision blurred. A bone-rattling crack! exploded through the barn, and Mr. Sherman’s gaze went high as my chair toppled over, and an avalanche of plywood and storage crashed over us.
The earsplitting blast of a gunshot registered and my world went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Winnie!” A muddle of muffled sounds and panicked voices pricked my ears, drawing them back to life. I begged my scratchy eyes to open, but there was only dust and darkness when I did.
“Winnie!” The word came again and again on a thousand voices now, high and low, screeching panic and booming demands.
I couldn’t breathe. I willed my lungs to work, but the effort resulted in excruciating pain and a cough.
“Here!” A familiar voice rose above the rest. Dot’s voice. “Help! She’s here!”
The earth rumbled beneath me, and the choir of voices grew louder.
The pressure on my chest began to lift.
“Winnie?” Dot asked, falling onto her knees and into clear view.
I gurgled an ugly sound, so thankful she was there.
“Stay with me,” Dot said, tears streaming as she reached for my cheeks. “Open your eyes!”
I cracked my lids open against the light, surprised that I’d shut them. A carousel of emergency lights swept over the tightly packed room in waves, showcasing dozens of fearful expressions.
“Mr. Sherman,” I said.
“I know.”
EMTs cut through the crowd to my side and ducked into position with Dot. They exchanged ominous looks.
“She’s going to be fine,” Dot announced, a little too firmly.
They nodded and got to work poking and probing my body.
Dot swung her fierce expression back to me. “You’re going to be okay.”
I nodded.
“Winnie!” Colton’s voice startled my eyes open once more. When did I close them? He stopped short, eyes wide and cheeks pale as he took in the four of us on the ground.
Dot rose to clasp his hand in hers, and he jerked away. Her pretty white coat was ruined, streaked and smeared in crimson. “She’s going to be fine,” she repeated in an ugly growl.
My heart gave a strangled thud as I recognized the substance on her coat. Blood.
Ice climbed my veins. The result of an IV. The air grew crisp in my lungs. The effects of an oxygen mask. I focused my hazy thoughts on Dot as my gurney began to roll.
“Not my blood,” she said. “Colton, Winnie was shot.”
* * *
Christmas in Blossom Valley is something not to miss, which was probably why Granny opened her eyes on December 20. Dot drove me to pick her up on Christmas Eve, the day of her official release, the tenth day in a row of subzero windchill and endless snow. The swelling in her brain that had kept her asleep was finally gone, healed by time, careful medical attention, and an abundance of fervent prayers.
I’d shared her room for two nights following Winterfest, mostly for observation. The doctors eventually released me with a bevy of stitches and plenty of prescription painkillers for my multitude of injuries. My main instruction had been to rest. The concussion had guaranteed that. For days, every time I’d moved my eyes or any inch of my body, I’d regretted it. I’d cracked a rib, busted my head, and suffered numerous lacerations and contusions from the fallen storage boxes and their contents. Mr. Sherman’s bullet had also grazed my side, but that had turned out to be less problematic than the head injury I’d given myself while knocking the support beam out from under the storage platform. It was a wild but successful act of bravery or stupidity depending on who told the story. Either way, it had saved my life.
Mr. Sherman was knocked out long enough for the deputies to arrive in response to the gunshot.
The kitties escaped without injury.
And Dot was right. I was going to be okay.
Granny touched the passenger side window with her fingertips as the orchard came into sight. The view was postcard perfect with a fresh foot of snow on the ground and flurries blustering in the air. “Home,” she said in one small whisper.
I patted her shoulder over the back of her seat. “Home for Christmas,” I said. “That might be my new favorite saying.”
Granny set her hand on mine, holding it in place a few beats longer. “I’m so glad you’re okay, baby girl.”
“Back at ya,” I said. “Thanks for waking up and not ruining my holiday.”
Granny smiled.
Dot clucked her tongue. “You two need to knock it right off. No more facing off with bad guys.”
Granny released my hand to drag a fingertip across her heart in a little X. “Deal,” she said. I think I’m going to accept the Knitwits’ invitation to attend their convention. I think it’s time I start doing a lot of new things. I’m not going to live forever, so I’d better get started now.”
Dot nodded
in approval, then locked me in her knowing gaze via the rearview mirror. “What about you? How are you going to occupy your time?”
I beamed. “I have an idea or two.”
She winked as she turned up the long gravel drive, past a parking lot already tight with vehicles.
“What on earth?” Granny asked. “Who’s running the orchard in this weather?”
“Orchard’s closed,” I said, but a few folks we know helped me put something else together.
Dot parked outside the Mail Pouch barn and honked her horn.
The little access door popped open, and Colton rushed out to greet us, hunched over in the driving snow. He helped Granny inside, and Dot ushered me. I turned immediately back to see Granny’s face as she crossed the threshold.
Roughly seventy-five of our dearest friends had worked in teams, occasionally around the clock for the two weeks following my final meeting with Mr. Sherman. Once word had spread, there was no stopping the offers of aid and assistance. After I’d quit puking at the sound of anything louder than my own heartbeat, thanks to that concussion, I began making lists. And I commissioned one phone call. Dot reached out to Doc Austin for me.
I sold Grampy’s red Mustang to the man who’d helped him find and restore it. Then, he’d made an offer on the third car as well. I cried as I signed the titles over to him, but I knew the cars would be in good hands. I knew Grampy would approve, and I knew it was his way of still helping me reach my dreams, even after three long years in heaven.
The money had covered the contractor costs for renovations, electrical, heating, and plumbing. Then I’d flattened my chubby savings account to put up walls and finish the interior.
Granny’s friends stood behind the newly erected bar. Dispensers of my cider lined the surface before them, along with neighbors on every bar stool. The place had been well appointed in donations, memorabilia from the area, and general farmhouse chic décor. I’d liberally layered Christmas over all that until everything in sight had a twinkle light, holly berry, or reference to the man in red. Like me in my favorite sweater, the barn was dressed for a good old country Christmas. There was even a tree in the corner, covered in tinsel and faux apple garlands. Two small kittens were no doubt hiding in there as well.
Granny leaned against Colton in shock and immense pleasure. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Her cheeks rose high in the widest smile I’d ever seen. “My stars!” She looked at me in awe. “I can’t believe you did all this! It’s amazing!”
“I didn’t do it,” I said, feeling the lump rise in my throat. “They did.” I drifted my gaze over the humble and smiling faces throughout my new cider shop. “And Grampy,” I added. Without him, the fate of my dream would have remained in the hands of a banker, and I didn’t want that anymore.
Colton gave her a hearty hug, then passed her into the crowd.
I watched raptly as the man I’d grown to know as a friend, strode confidently to my side. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now,” I said.
“Oh, yeah?” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Any particular reason?”
“Well, I’ve been given a ton of pain medications.”
Colton laughed. He stuffed long fingers into the front pockets of his suit pants and smiled, looking instantly ten years younger. “Granny looks like she’s doing okay.”
“She is,” I said. “How’d it go in court?” I gave his dark suit an appreciative look. It wasn’t something I’d imagine him choosing without a judge involved, but he wore it very well.
“We’ve got Sherman against a wall,” he said. “My team matched the four-wheeler’s tracks on your land to a vehicle registered to him. A bystander at Mr. Bentley’s accident gave a partial license plate and full truck description that matched Sherman’s truck. Once Bentley was able, he gave a full statement outlining what he’d been up to with the properties and why. We found a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit made to Sherman’s bank account the day before the first property was purchased in the name of a dummy corporation belonging to Extra Mobil.
“With all that on his shoulders, Sherman broke down and admitted to stalking and threatening you. He copped to running Bentley off the road and injuring your granny. He’s holding out on pleading guilty to murder, but the things he told you are helping us build a case that puts him at Nadine Cooper’s house the day she died. I think we’ll get it done from there. Extra Mobil will be scrambling to recover from this for a while. They’ve been ordered to pay fines and undergo an investigation. Plus it’s generally bad for business to have so many criminal acts committed in your name. The only thing that never panned out was the paint I collected from your bumper. I wasn’t able to get a good enough sample for the lab to work with. Luckily, we won’t even need it.”
“Were you the one who had it buffed out while I was laid up with the concussion?”
Colton smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.” So far that was the same thing everyone said.
I caught his gaze lingering on my torso, specifically the side where I’d been shot, and I poked his chest in warning. “Hey. It wasn’t your fault, so knock it off.”
Colton still blamed himself for what had happened to me, but he’d done everything he could. When he received news that Farmer Bentley was awake, he made a trip to the hospital on his way to Winterfest. Once Farmer Bentley told him what Mr. Sherman had done, Colton went to the bank to arrest him, but he was gone. And he wasn’t at home. Colton came for me next, but Mr. Sherman was already here.
“It doesn’t look like I’m the only one feeling guilty,” Colton said, cocking his head for a better look into my averted eyes.
“I can’t stop thinking of what I could have done differently to change all of this,” I said. Not being able to move around or keep my eyes open for long periods while my concussion healed had given me a lot of time to think. Mostly, I’d just wished I could go back to the day Mrs. Cooper had come looking for Granny and I’d sent her away. “I should have tried to coax the problem out of her. I could have invited her to wait with me while Granny finished the hayride or offered her a glass of cider and tried to get to know her. She was my neighbor after all, and I hadn’t even known she had a son.”
Colton gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “You can’t think like that. You had no way of knowing what would come, and there are some things that just can’t be changed.” A flash of pain burned across his face, and I wondered if he spoke from experience. “We have to try to live for the moment and be thankful for what we have,” he said. “Look.” He let his gaze trail pointedly over the crowd inside my barn. “Your granny’s well. The cider shop is open. You helped bring a killer to justice and gave Mrs. Cooper’s family closure. Not to mention saving Blossom Valley from the big bad, very crooked, oil company and its henchman. I’d say you did all right.”
I grinned, unreasonably proud of his compliments.
The flicker of pain returned to Colton’s brow and he dropped his gaze back to meet mine. “I wish you hadn’t been hurt in the process.”
“I’m fine,” I promised, gripping his fingers a little tighter in mine.
“Now, sure, but when I saw you laying there . . .” He stepped closer, expression fathomless. “I realized something.”
“What?”
“Winnie! Sheriff!” Hank glided into view, cutting through the crowd with a tall glass of cider and stopped at my side. “Great party! I can’t believe this place. You always talked about it, but I never thought you’d really do it. Some things just take a near death experience, I guess.” He laughed at his joke, unaffected by the zigzagging chemistry he’d plowed through like a blind mule.
Colton frowned. He released my hand, then braced both palms onto his hips.
Hank wrapped an arm around my back and tugged me against the lean length of his side. “We make a great team, huh?” He smiled at me, then at Colton’s frowning face. “That information I gave you really paid off, I guess. I couldn’t
believe it when I heard what happened. I’ve been trying to call you for days, but I haven’t been able to get through. Goes straight to voice mail.”
Colton’s expression wavered slightly. His gaze slid to meet mine.
“I’ve been resting,” I said. “Healing up.”
Hank patted my back. “No worries. I’ll just share my good news now. I’m staying.”
“Staying where?” Colton and I asked in near unison.
“Here.” Hank beamed. “I applied for the open public relations position with Extra Mobil, and I got the job! I didn’t want to mention it until I heard back, but after the corruption scandal, they’ve got a big need for a man like me. I put people at ease.”
Colton’s mouth twitched. I rolled my eyes.
“Best part,” Hank continued, “is that the facility is only thirty minutes away. I can commute!”
“From here?”
“That’s right, Winona Mae. I’m coming home!”
I patted my pockets with a groan. “I think it’s time for more pain pills.”
Colton snorted.
Hank rushed away. “I’ll get you a water,” he called.
I dropped my head forward in defeat. “Horse spit.”
Colton grinned. “Indeed.” He watched Hank hurry away. “Go easy on the pills. You could become an addict with your ex moving back to town.”
I wasn’t really taking them. I liked my head clear. Just rest and ibuprofen for me. “I still can’t believe I suspected him as a murderer.”
“He does seem more like a well-dressed golden retriever than a cold-blooded killer,” Colton said.
“Don’t tell him you think he’s well-dressed unless you want a friend for life.”
The volume on my radio increased, and Granny appeared near the Christmas tree. She belted the opening lines to “Let It Snow!” and slowly the crowd began to chime in. The chorus of raised voices sent joyful shivers across my skin and plastered a fresh smile on my lips. This was Blossom Valley. This was the enduring spirit of community and friendship that I never wanted to let go.
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