“Nah,” Martha drawled, “I want you to tell me it’s real bad.”
“Listen, if this is another way for you to get my goat, it won’t work. I may be…mature, but I’m in good health.” In fact, maybe too healthy with the bit of weight she’d put on recently. But she didn’t like all the meals the cafeteria served so she always made sure to double up on those she did. The result was khaki prison-issued pants with a tightly stretched elastic waistband.
Martha pushed her dark straight hair over one shoulder and shook her head the way you did right before saying Bless her heart about someone. “You ever heard of compassionate release?”
“No.”
“You should keep up with stuff like that. If you’d stop nosing into everyone’s business, trying to teach people how to eat with a crab fork and whatnot—”
“It’s a seafood fork.”
Martha’s head dropped forward, and she pushed her thumbs against her eyes as though Lil had served up a massive headache. “See what I mean?”
“You were saying something about compassion?”
“So there’s this racket the BOP started a few years ago. And it’s a way for folks who’re long in the tooth to wiggle their way out of the system.”
Lil sat up straight and scooted to the edge of her bed. She didn’t want to miss a word of what was about to come from Martha’s mouth. “Go on.”
“It’s because of prison overcrowding, and on account that most geezers ain’t in any shape to go out and knock over a liquor store or pop a cap in someone’s as—”
Lil leveled a disapproving stare at her roommate.
“—assets.”
“Why haven’t you told me about this before?” Part of Lil hoped it was because Martha liked her and didn’t want to see her leave. Probably a barrel full of wishful thinking.
Martha waved a careless hand. “You never asked.”
A nice deep breath was definitely in order here. “So how does one become eligible for this compassion program?” And why hadn’t the warden ever mentioned it? She’d talked for months about the potential for Lil’s early release, but never said a word about compassionate release. Maybe she’d been stringing Lil along the entire time. Maybe that was all this talk about good behavior credit was.
“It’s actually not all that hard. If I had a few more decades on me, I’d try it myself. All you have to do is be real sick…or real old like you.”
Lil’s spine straightened. “I’ll have you know Cosmo says seventy is the new fifty.”
“Fine, you don’t wanna age out? Then all you gotta do is play the sick sympathy card. And the warden already knows your arthritis acts up now and again, right?”
“But it’s not debilitating.”
“You know that and I know that, but does the warden have to? One thing about you mature folks, one day you can be right as rain, the next day, you’re four legs in the air.”
A chill inched over Lil’s skin. She didn’t want to be four legs in the air anytime soon. “If I ever meet your mother, I’m going to mention she should’ve enrolled you in charm school.”
This time, Martha just chuckled. “Look, I know how much your precious Summer Haven means to you. After all the septic system mess a few months back, I figured you wanted to get home as soon as you could.”
At the mention of her family estate, Lil’s heart shrunk. This was the longest stretch of time she’d ever been from the home where she was born and had lived her whole life. “It’s beautiful, you know.”
“I’m sure it is.” For a few seconds, Martha stared off into the distance as if longing for her own home. Her mouth was flat when she turned her attention back to Lil. “Look, if there’s a good chance you’ll blow this joint by the summer, what’s the harm in trying to scoot out a little earlier? Sounds like your friends could use you there.”
It was true. When she’d turned over Summer Haven’s care to Maggie, she’d put such a burden on her best friend. Maggie had done a standup job, but it would be so much better for them all if Lillian could return home and handle the family estate herself.
Lillian swallowed, then rubbed her hand along the side of her knee and moaned.
“What was that?” Martha sat up quickly. “You okay?”
“Practice.” Lil smiled. Then she inhaled to fill herself with courage and on one exhale, blew away her honesty. “Tell me how I should go about this.”
Chapter 2
When Sera came back into the kitchen without Hollis trailing her, Teague’s suspicious nature ramped up. A man didn’t come all the way to Summer Haven just to turn around and leave within minutes. “What happened to Hollis? Thought he was coming in for coffee.”
“He…uh…” Sera glanced away, smoothed a hand over her hip, then shot Teague a sunshine smile, “…had to get home. Forgot he left a pot pie in the oven.”
“Pot pie?” He wasn’t buying that smile for a second.
“Far be it for me to get between a man and his crust-wrapped chicken.”
Abby Ruth snorted out a laugh. “Even to me that sounds a little wrong.”
Sera pulled a chair close to Teague, batted her eyes in a way he now knew wasn’t a cougar come-on but one of her tools of persuasion. “I noticed you’ve been stressed since the Christmas holidays.”
Of course he had. He and Jenny Cady had reconciled after ten years apart, and he’d hoped she and her son would be moving to Summer Shoals in January. Because Jenny wasn’t allowed to sublet her condo, she had to sell it before she could leave Boston. He was so anxious, he’d barely been eating or sleeping the past three months.
“You know what would fix you right up?” Sera said. “My morning yoga class.”
“Tadpole doing Downward Dog Fixin’ to Pee?” Abby Ruth’s snort-laugh was now coming from her belly. “I’d give my JO.LO.AR to see that.”
Teague sat for a second, considering. That old Spanish semi-automatic pistol was one helluva gun. He’d love to get his hands on it, but if it meant putting both his feet behind his head and walking around Summer Haven’s lawn on his hands, the price was too steep. “On that note, I think it’s time for me to get on home.”
He headed for the foyer and opened the front door to find Colton Ellerbee standing there, his hand raised to knock. Apparently living in his own artist’s world, Colton didn’t pause his motion, nearly pummeling Teague right in the noggin. Teague stepped back to avoid the man’s knuckles. “Hey, Ellerbee. How’s the sculpting going?”
Calling what Colton did art was a stretch as far as Teague was concerned. Michelangelo and marble? Sure. But Ellerbee’s so-called masterpieces were made from random junk. Using the word sculpting was about the best Teague could do.
Colton’s bright red beret made him look like a woodpecker, and his wind-chapped cheeks matched his hat. “It’s been better. I’m glad to see you here, Sheriff.”
“Teague,” Maggie called from down the hallway, “who’s here now?”
“Colton Ellerbee.”
Maggie, Sera and Abby Ruth joined Teague in the foyer. “Bring us any more of your work, Ellerbee?” Abby Ruth drawled.
Colton shifted his gaze to the grannies. “Not in this lifetime. I can’t believe you’d separate the nativity scene. Tell me, are you selling it off piece by piece to get more money for it? Don’t you know it’s plain wrong to profit from someone else’s hard work?”
As Colton verbally blasted them, Sera and Maggie both stepped back, but not Abby Ruth. No sirree. She stepped right up into the artist’s space and lifted her chin. “Son, I don’t know what your problem is, but these outbursts of yours are getting old. What on earth are you yapping about this time?”
“Oh, yeah.” Colton didn’t back down a centimeter. “Should’ve known you’d stoop to something like this. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. First your grandson ruins my nativity scene, and now you’re profiting from my work.”
Teague suppressed a smile at the memory of Jenny’s son playing catch during the holiday art show. T
he sweet baby Jesus from Colton’s nativity scene had sustained some serious injuries. Jenny and the grannies joined forces to repair the sculpture, and Ellerbee’s nativity scene had gone on to win the show.
“That sheep was a collector piece,” Colton barreled on. “I don’t think your daughter will be pleased to find you cut her out of a commission either.”
With the roach-killer toes of her cowboy boots, Abby Ruth crowded Ellerbee back, forcing him out the doorway and onto the porch. Her shoulders hitched at least three inches as she rose ready for the fight. Teague knew that look. It never boded well.
“Whoa now. Let’s stay cool. Ellerbee, calm down and explain.” He turned to Abby Ruth and lowered his hand as though quieting an orchestra. “You, simmer down. Let’s hear him out.”
“He—” Abby Ruth made a gun with her thumb and forefinger. Pointed the darned thing right at Colton’s forehead.
Teague pushed down her faux firearm and motioned Colton inside Summer Haven’s foyer. “Start from the top.”
Colton shoved his hands into his pockets, seeming to make a concerted effort at remaining calm, even though his neck was pink and splotchy with hives. Wasn’t unusual. Abby Ruth had that effect on folks. Made Teague itch sometimes too, but then he’d had over twenty years to get used to her.
“When I gave the nativity set to Summer Haven, I expected it would be used as part of the annual display…forever. Kind of a legacy.”
Teague leaned an elbow on the stair’s newel post. “I understand.”
“I mean, Summer Haven is the heart of this town so I thought by donating the sculptures to the estate, I was doing the whole town a favor. It was a gift. You don’t sell a gift.”
“It was a nice gesture,” Teague agreed.
“I didn’t realize I needed to make a no-sale provision. Never in my wildest imagination did I think these ladies would sell anything.”
Teague glanced toward the grannies. Sera’s head was tilted to the right. Maggie pulled at her ponytail. And Abby Ruth’s scowl was edged with confusion. Proving they didn’t know what the heck Ellerbee was jawing about.
“We didn’t sell any of your so-called art,” Abby Ruth said. “You didn’t expect us to leave them in the yard year round, did ya? They’re in the garage because we couldn’t fit those damned things in the attic with the rest of the Christmas decorations.”
Colton pulled a glossy piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Teague. “Here. See for yourself.”
Teague studied the page. It had been ripped from a magazine, and darned if it didn’t show a picture of a sculpture from Colton’s Annual Holiday Art Fest nativity entry. Teague would recognize that gasoline-can-headed sheep anywhere.
He turned to the grannies. “Ladies?”
One look at the paper and Abby Ruth snorted. “Someone paid $15,000 for that sheep? Another passel of idiots born every blessed day.” She grabbed it from Teague’s hold and held it out so Maggie and Sera could see it.
“Worth every penny,” Colton said. “This is the year of the sheep, after all. But that’s not the point. The point is…”
“Yeah, yeah, the point is you think we sold it out from under you. We didn’t.” Abby Ruth jammed her hands onto her hips.
Teague studied the other ladies. “Sera? Maggie?”
“No. Of course not. It was a gift. You don’t sell a gift.” Sera fiddled with something in the back pocket of her yoga pants. With all the rubbing and fiddling she’d been doing since Hollis left, she was either hiding something or had psoriasis on her ass.
“I don’t even re-gift,” Maggie said.
Abby Ruth caught Colton by the shoulder and tried to swing him around toward the door. “You’re obviously wrong.”
He ducked and eluded her. “No. That was a one-of-a-kind piece.”
Lord, most of the time, Teague loved being the sheriff in a small, sleepy Georgia county, but sometimes he’d take a murder over a bunch of backbiting. “Ellerbee, Jenny told me you’ve made several of those nativity scenes for folks since the art show, and for quite a price tag. This rogue sheep could be from one of those sets, right?”
“No. See this?” Colton grabbed the sheet from Abby Ruth’s grip and waved it in front of Teague’s face. “The gas can was a vintage retro metal galvanized from Delphos, very hard to find. I’d bet you a million dollars the one in that picture is the one I left here.”
“God knows I’d like to take that bet,” Abby Ruth muttered. “But we can put an end to these idiotic accusations here and now.” She stepped around Colton and threw open the front door. “Everyone march your butts out to the garage. Now.”
Fine. If this would stop Colton’s bellyaching, even Teague would give in to Abby Ruth’s demand. Everyone trooped outside and around the house. Teague lifted the garage door, and Abby Ruth retrieved the keys to the sacred Tucker Torpedo from atop its front driver’s side tire, where Lil’s daddy had always kept them. That Lil was one for tradition.
Abby Ruth jumped behind the tank of a car’s wheel and revved the engine.
“Easy there,” Maggie called out.
“I’ve got this.” Abby Ruth quickly checked the rearview mirror, then the car shot out of the bay.
“Lord have mercy,” Maggie gasped. “Lil would’ve had a heart attack if she’d seen that.”
“Our little secret,” Teague reassured her.
Maggie led the way to the back of the garage, where boxes were stacked four high in the corner. A large blue painter’s tarp was draped over a heaping mass to the left. “Help me with this, Teague.”
They lifted the tarp and let it billow to the ground.
Maggie swept her arm in a Vanna White gesture. “See.”
Colton stepped forward, and Teague made a mental inventory of the pieces. Baby Jesus, Mary, Joseph. One, two, three wise men, and the menagerie. But no sheep.
He and Colton locked gazes.
“Awww, shit.” Abby Ruth whirled toward Maggie. “Did you sell it?”
“No!” Maggie swiveled her head toward Sera. “Sera, I know you wouldn’t have sold it. Donated it, maybe. You didn’t recycle it for cash, did you?”
“I wouldn’t donate something that’s not mine to give away,” Sera protested.
Her hands palm up, Maggie turned to Colton. “I don’t know what’s going on here. I can assure you that sheep was here on January tenth when we put away all the decorations.”
“Well, it’s not here now.” Colton waved his arms wildly. “And I want it back.”
Teague watched the color drain from Abby Ruth’s face, and her lips pulled into a tight line that spelled trouble. If he didn’t get Colton out of here within the next sixty seconds, his murder wish would come all too true. And the last thing he needed was to have to arrest his—hopefully—future mother-in-law. Because although Jenny would believe her mom had committed the crime, she still wouldn’t forgive Teague for letting it happen in the first place.
Abby Ruth took a menacing step toward Colton. “I’ll find out what’s going on here, and when I do, you’ll be sorry you ever accused us of stealing your crap.”
“Crap?” Colton squawked. “I’ll have you know—”
His gut twisted into a pretzel, Teague shoved himself between Colton and Abby Ruth. He’d prefer Abby Ruth didn’t play murderer or deputy. “I’ll take care of it.”
But Abby Ruth’s narrow eyes and Maggie’s bland expression sent a warning streak down Teague’s spine. When had these gals ever listened to a darned thing he said?
Pretty much never.
Sera watched Teague smoothly take the paper from Colton’s clenched fist. He cuffed him on the shoulder in that fake buddy-buddy way guys did, then led the artist a few feet away. “I don’t know what happened, but I can assure you if these ladies say they didn’t sell your art, they didn’t. I’ll figure out what’s going on.” Teague leveled a warning look at them, then walked Colton back toward his car.
Clearly, the sheriff wasn’t a fan of Abby Ruth’s notion
that she, Sera and Maggie would get to the bottom of Colton’s problem. Sera chuckled to herself. Hadn’t the man learned anything over the past few months? His disapproval of their extracurricular activities wouldn’t stop them for a minute.
A tingle of pure happiness and excitement ran through Sera. Not one mystery, but two. Maybe this was a sign that Summer Shoals was where she was meant to be. Forever.
“I told you we should lock this place,” Abby Ruth said to Maggie. “Small town or not, you can’t be too careful these days.”
Maggie’s shoulders sagged. “I can’t believe anyone would steal from Summer Haven.”
Sera wrapped an arm around Maggie. “It’s not your fault if someone stole that sheep and sold it. You always take these things so personally.”
“You would too if your best friend was trusting you to keep her entire home all safe until she can do it herself.”
Stung, Sera said, “Lillian is my friend too. Maybe nothing like what the two of you have, but she’s shared her home with me, and I take that to heart.”
Sometimes it seemed as if Maggie and Abby Ruth thought she was just some float-through-life flower child. Probably her fault for perpetuating the image. Yes, she loved yoga, healthy eating and good karma, but she was more than the sum of her southern California parts.
“We need to figure this out and fast.” Abby Ruth turned her back to the men, and her face was pale. “If Colton blames me, he could pull his contract with Jenny. He’s her first solo client, and if she wants to make the move to Summer Shoals, she sure can’t afford to lose him. If he fires her, she’ll never forgive me.”
The reality of Abby Ruth’s claim ricocheted through Sera. “Do you think Teague’s even considered that Colton might be mad enough to fire Jenny?”
“I don’t know, but that’s why we need to handle this. You know how lovesick Teague’s been for her.”
It was true. Teague’s chakras had been all jacked out of shape since Jenny left at Christmas and had been forced to delay her move to Summer Shoals. They’d faded from a vibrating sunburst orange to a stagnant brackish brown.
In High Cotton Page 2