Vicki leaned against the sink and crossed her arms. “I don’t know. I don’t know much about it or this Misty Wayfair story. She’s just folklore really, again from what I’ve heard.”
Vicki wasn’t going to be much help. At least not with local history. Still . . . family history? Maybe. After all, Heidi did find that photo album with her look-alike dead woman in the local antique shop run by Connie Crawford. If she was related to the woman in the picture—the woman looking in her window—then how did it end up in Pleasant Valley when they hailed from Minnesota originally?
“So, how much do you know about our ancestry?” Heidi asked.
Vicki shifted and crossed her ankles, then leaned back against the sink again. “I don’t know what you mean.”
It really wasn’t that hard to understand. Heidi tried again. “Grandparents, great-grandparents, where our family comes from. Germans, Vikings, Celts?”
“Oh.” Vicki’s face turned expressionless, and Heidi couldn’t tell if it was because she knew something and didn’t want to say, or because she had no interest and had never entertained the question before.
“You’d have to ask Mom. I don’t know anything,” she answered, her words a bit clipped.
“You think Mom will even remember?” Mom. The woman had thought she was dead, for goodness’ sake. How would she even have an ounce of memory for ancestral history?
Vicki shrugged and pushed off the counter. “I doubt it. Why do you want to know anyway? I’d rather find out who broke into this house. I’ve got damage control to do with the guests. They’re all unnerved, and rightfully so. It won’t surprise me if some of them check out early.” Her armor was back on, and Heidi squelched a sigh. Vicki grabbed a pile of used dish towels to take them to the laundry room. She paused and gave Heidi a poignant look. “If they do check out, we’ll lose money having to refund the days they didn’t stay.”
Heidi tilted her head and gave Vicki a raised brow. “And that’s my fault?”
Vicki shrugged. “Not necessarily. But it was your room, your mirror. I don’t know what you’ve been doing the last several years, but . . .”
The dropped sentence was rife with implications.
Heidi owed her sister no explanation, but old instincts to defend her decisions still ran thick through her. “I’ve been waitressing, okay? That’s it. And working some administrative temp jobs.”
Vicki gave her a look that indicated she either didn’t believe her or that it was no shocking surprise Heidi had developed into nothing much worth talking about.
And that was the look Heidi had lived with all her life, in this cricket-container world that some people called a family.
Connie Crawford opened the front door. Her smile stretched across her face and reached her warm, brown eyes.
“Heidi!”
Heidi stalled for a moment and then responded with an equally friendly smile. Gosh, she could really enjoy Connie’s company! It was a breath of fresh air over Vicki’s, and there was an instantaneous nurturing air about the woman that made Heidi wonder, briefly, if she’d been lucky enough to have been Connie’s daughter, would the woman be proud of her—for being her?
Heidi glanced over Connie’s shoulder. “I was wanting to check on Emma, and the dog.”
And appease her own conscience for slamming into the canine with her car that was, interestingly enough, no longer in the ditch and also nowhere to be seen.
“Oh, you’re so kind! And you walked all the way here? That’s at least three miles!”
The walk had done her good. Cleared her head, her thoughts from the mind-numbing depths of all things dark and suspicious. Circumstances might not have changed, but she was rising from the quagmire of last night’s desperation.
It’d also given her time to relive her conversation with her mom. To reconsider the letter she’d received and maybe even reason it away as her mother losing her mental faculties rather than a sincere cry for help, cloaked with strange statements that made no sense.
Connie opened the door wider. “Come on in.”
She led the way through the kitchen. “I have a part-timer running the store today,” she explained over her shoulder, even though Heidi hadn’t asked. “Both dog and owner are fine, but Emma needs a bit more assistance at the moment.”
Heidi winced. That was for certain her fault.
Connie led her through a doorway into the family room. She paused and smiled at Heidi with a reassuring pat on her shoulder. “It’s really all right, Heidi. Emma is a trooper, and she’ll adjust. It might be slow, though. The finding of that new routine can cause much anxiety. She’s not used to not having Ducie at her beck and call.”
Emma looked up and smiled a quick flash of a smile as they approached.
“Hi.” She lifted a hand in a wave. Far more relaxed than the previous night, Emma sat intent at a table with a board game of Risk. She was setting it up.
“Risk!” Heidi grinned. “Now that is my type of game!”
Emma didn’t respond. Her hand went to the infinity scarf around her neck.
Connie chuckled. “Emma always wins, and I find it quite disheartening.”
“It’s strategy.” There wasn’t much emotion in Emma’s tone, and she tugged at her scarf again. Heidi realized it was probably a gesture of comfort for Emma.
The young woman was dividing armies.
“Forty armies for two players, right?” Heidi welcomed the sense of pleasure that coursed through her at the sight of the game. It was a beginner question, but it broke the ice between her and the woman whose dog she’d almost killed.
“Yes.” Emma nodded but stayed hunched over the board.
“I’d like to play,” Heidi ventured. She really would. Get her mind off everything even more than the walk had.
“Sure.” Emma pushed a pile of cards in Heidi’s direction. “We need neutral territories.”
“For two players, that’s how it’s done,” Connie explained, watching.
“I remember.” Heidi sat in a chair opposite Emma. A thumping sound grabbed her attention, and she looked down at the floor by Emma’s feet. Ducie lay there on a dog bed, his hind leg in a cast. She’d not seen him there when she’d come in, but now Heidi could tell that although the dog might be incapacitated, he had no intention of leaving his mistress’s side.
No wonder Emma was calm.
Heidi smiled. This might be the first moment since she’d arrived in Pleasant Valley that she could draw a deep breath and feel at peace. At least for a second or two.
“Rhett had your vehicle towed to the shop,” Connie broke into Heidi’s thoughts.
“That was kind.” She watched Emma arranging the cards. It was also presuming of him.
“Your brother-in-law, Brad, called this morning to make sure it was taken care of. Rhett was on it right away.”
Oh. Brad. Heidi had eventually explained her own evening’s accident, which somehow seemed to pale in comparison to squad cars, cryptic lipstick messages, and rumors of ghosts.
“That’s why you came, isn’t it?” Connie’s inquiry caused Heidi to snap from her mental picture of Vicki’s heavy sigh from the night before as Heidi had admitted to almost killing Emma Crawford’s service dog.
“Huh?” Heidi blinked.
Even Emma paused to watch her.
“Your car? That’s why you stopped by?” Connie pressed.
“Oh!” Pull it together, Lane. Heidi nodded her head, pushing strands of blue-tipped hair behind her ear. “Well, yes, but I also wanted to check in on Emma here, and of course the dog.”
“Ducie,” Emma supplied.
“Yes, Ducie.” Heidi accepted the correction.
“It was a bit of a traumatic night,” Connie admitted. She reached out and pushed on Emma’s shoulder. A firm grip and an applied pressure. Emma smiled at her mother, a quiet expulsion of breath that seemed to squeeze any uninvited anxiety from Emma’s body.
Heidi could comprehend a little of how Emma felt. Pent-up anxiety was awful, sometim
es paralyzing. “I really am sorry. I didn’t realize how fast I was going, and I was distracted.”
“You should concentrate harder.” Emma lifted large brown eyes set in a fine-boned face to Heidi. There was kindness in her expression, in spite of the abrupt correction. As though it were obvious, and Heidi should know this naturally.
Heidi swallowed and choked. “Yes. I probably should.”
A smile quirked Connie’s lips. The older woman pushed back a strand of graying blond hair. “Emma is very honest.”
“Honesty is wise.” Heidi affirmed Emma.
Connie redirected her attention to her daughter. “Emma, are you fine if I go call Dad?”
Emma nodded and leaned over to scratch Ducie behind the ear.
“He was supposed to be home today to be with Emma, but he was called in.” Connie’s voice lowered. “Murphy works at Kramer’s, and sometimes they can’t do without him.”
“Kramer’s?” Heidi inquired, sidestepping the emotional twinge of guilt that Emma’s routine had been so obviously disrupted, and it was all Heidi’s fault.
“The logging and lumber company,” Connie explained.
“They were founded in 1838.” Emma’s insertion was matter-of-fact. “By Lewis Kramer. His parents were immigrants from Stuttgart, Germany, when he was five years old. He came to Pleasant Valley in the summer of 1831, and seven years later, Kramer Logging was formed.”
Heidi couldn’t help but allow a small, impressed laugh to escape her lips. “Emma Crawford, that’s phenomenal date retention.”
Emma smiled. A thin, wan smile that communicated she appreciated Heidi’s words but wasn’t sure why she was impressed.
Connie left the room to go place her call. Heidi sat down opposite of Emma and began to prepare for a game of Risk. It wasn’t what she should be doing, yet she couldn’t shake her uneasy and aimless feeling. One that could almost drift away sitting opposite of Emma and in the presence of Connie Crawford.
“I used to play Risk on Friday nights when I lived in Minnesota and I was in high school. But that was a long time ago.” Heidi picked up the instructions. Emma seemed to ignore her, and Ducie released a heavy dog sigh from his place on the bed.
Heidi kept rambling.
“My friends and I would conquer the world. We split into teams of two since there were several of us. We’d make hot cocoa, have popcorn, and make a real game of it. And I”—Heidi tossed an infantryman into the air, then caught it in her palm—“usually dominated the board.”
Emma reached for the infantryman.
Heidi drew her hand back and gave her counterpart a teasing grin. “Ah ah ah! You’ll have to seize India to get this guy!” She made a flourish of stationing the piece on India.
“No.” Emma shook her head, drawing in a shaky breath. “No. There are rules.” She slid her chair back and cast a nervous glance at Ducie. It was as if she wanted to leave the room but hadn’t the heart to leave Ducie with Heidi. She began to tug at her scarf.
Something had just gone dreadfully wrong. Heidi stood and reached toward Emma. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You don’t throw the infantryman!” Emma jerked away and gave Heidi an offended glare, emphasized by a yank on her scarf.
“Emma, I—”
“You can leave now.” A definitive male voice sliced through the air.
Heidi’s eyes collided with the commanding expression of a very protective older brother. There was nothing else to do but agree.
Chapter 13
So, what’s it like working for my brother-in-law?” Heidi’s attempt at conversation fell flat.
Rhett didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink.
Heidi had boggled everything. From her attempts at smoothing things over with Emma to her awkward exit from the Crawford home after Rhett told her—in no uncertain terms—he would drive her to the repair shop to get her car that had been mended to the point of being drivable.
Rhett’s truck bounced over a pothole as he drove her into town. Hopefully, Brad had supervised the repairs to her car, because if Rhett had worked on it, Heidi couldn’t be sure the man wouldn’t sabotage something and make it careen off a cliff just to be rid of her.
Sheesh! Heidi bit back a sigh and looked out the window at the trees whizzing by as the truck made its way toward town. This was why she wanted to avoid Pleasant Valley and her family—people like Rhett Crawford. She became a very pronounced King Midas, but instead of everything she touched turning to gold, it all turned into chaos. It’d happened several times during her preteen years, and those incidents seemed to set the stage for her future. Mom had gotten her a job at the church, volunteer of course, but helping stuff church bulletins and manage the little library. The time she’d put the books back on the shelves by alphabetization instead of some numeric system was bad enough. It’d sent the other elderly volunteer lady into a complete tailspin of disorganization. Worse was the time Heidi had inadvertently stuffed the church bulletins with half-sheet copies of the invitations for a surprise birthday party for the head deacon and ruined the surprise when he opened the bulletin Sunday morning along with everyone else. The actual half-sheet announcement page she’d stuffed in the church members’ mailboxes. Hey, at least they’d gotten the weekly activities. Yet the head deacon hadn’t gotten his surprise birthday. They were both minor mishaps in the scheme of preteen life, but Heidi could still remember the look of frustration and disappointment in her mother’s eyes. The shake of her head. The “When will you start taking things seriously?” question.
Now? Here she was. Years later. In a town her family called home but she had never been to. Perched on the front seat of a beat-up truck next to a man who had every right not to trust her—or like her. Heidi could only think of one way to try to smooth it over, and that was to talk her way out of it. Like she did most everything. Infuse the situation with humor and warmth and hope she could crack the hard shell of the person opposite her. Outside of wit, she didn’t have much else to offer.
Heidi stole a glance at Rhett. His baseball cap was firmly squashed onto his head, and his square jaw was so sharp she wondered if he was clenching his teeth. Riding next to the gargantuan mechanic was like trying to become BFFs with the Incredible Hulk.
“I’m glad Brad had you get my car towed and fixed. I tried changing my oil once,” she rambled, hoping to garner a smile, a blink, a nod, really anything from the man. “That was an epic fail. I ended up with oil all over the carport, and my landlord was not happy. But, I tried. Right? Bonus points for trying?”
She gave her head a fun-loving little toss.
No response.
Archie the cat stared at her from his well-balanced-and-yet-precarious position on the deep dash of the truck. Rüger sat beside her, his nose tipped up and staring forward as if to perfectly imitate his master.
“So, do you sing?” Heidi leaned forward and flipped the knob on the radio. A classic rock song warbled through awful speakers.
Oh, there was a reaction. Rhett reached out and switched the music off.
She eyed him.
“Sometimes,” Heidi goaded, “sometimes I wish I had a pocketful of glitter I could pull out and just toss into the air when I’m around people like you. You need a little sparkle in your life, Mr. Rhett Crawford.”
Sideways glance.
The truck bounced again, and Heidi lurched upward, grabbing for something to hold on to.
She grabbed his arm.
And released it.
He might as well have been made of hot lava, which wouldn’t make sense ’cause his arm was as hard as a rock.
“You don’t like glitter, I suppose.” This was exhausting. He was exhausting. Pleasant Valley was the epitome of exhausting, as it made her oh so aware of how inept she was at anything real or deep in life.
“What do you do for fun? I like to sing karaoke. Do you have a karaoke bar? We should sing together.” Heidi did a little mime-jive to an imaginary song.
G
od help her. She was annoying herself.
She slouched back against the truck’s seat. “Why are you named Rhett? Your mom go all Gone With the Wind on you?”
Rhett’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. His chest rose in a deep breath.
“Oh, for the love of Pete, say something!” Heidi rolled her eyes at the man.
He glanced at her. “What do you want me to say?”
Finally. He had a voice.
“Anything. Answer any of my questions.”
He reached up and adjusted the brim of his cap. “I don’t work for your brother-in-law. No bonus points for trying to change your own oil. If you didn’t know how, it was dumb to try. No, I don’t sing. Glitter can go to the lake of fire. I work for fun. We do have a karaoke bar. My mother named me Rhett because it was my grandfather’s name. I’ve no clue what Gone With the Wind is.”
Rhett’s lips closed. Tight.
Rüger gave Heidi’s elbow a nudge. She lifted her hand and set it on the dog’s head, scratching behind his ear. Every ounce of ambition to save herself, the moment, and her time here in this town deflated as quickly as if Rhett had reached out and stuck a needle into a balloon.
She couldn’t help the shaky breath that escaped her. Heidi turned her head toward the window. A gas station. A run-down billboard for Kramer Logging. An old Methodist church that looked as though it’d been built in the late nineteenth century, with a wing added on in the 1940s.
Rhett coughed.
Archie’s feline tail lifted from his perch on the dash and then laid as soft and soundless as a feather dropping onto the floor.
Rüger rested his nose on Heidi’s leg.
At least the dog liked her. And, even better, she hadn’t tried to kill this one.
The absurdity of her first thirty-six hours in Pleasant Valley was as ironic as the name of the historic logging town.
“Emma has autism.”
Rhett’s words ripped through the cab’s silence. He waved to someone on the sidewalk by the post office.
“Your mom told me last night.” Heidi left her response at that. There really wasn’t much else to say without getting herself into a deeper hole.
The Curse of Misty Wayfair Page 11