Maeve's Girls
Page 13
On a whim, she passed the turn to Maeve’s house and kept going. On the off-chance she was being followed, she wasn’t about to lead whoever it was back to her home and risk a confrontation in the driveway.
When the vehicle was still following her four turns later, though, she knew her instincts were right.
She tried to recall what the man in the driver’s seat had looked like, but aside from a head of greasy, dark hair, she hadn’t seen much. Was he someone working for Serina, hired to keep watch on them, or was this some new, fresh hell courtesy of the La Pierre welcome wagon?
Her adrenaline kicked up a notch as she tried to think of what to do. Like everything that had happened so far, Serina’s efforts were designed to make them nervous and instill fear, not cause pain. She likely wasn’t in any danger.
And, still, as the car inched closer, her pulse began to pound.
With a muttered prayer under her breath, she lifted her foot slowly off the gas, closing the gap between her bumper and the Pinto even more. The sun had almost set, and despite their proximity now, she couldn’t make out his features. She moved into the left lane and the Pinto immediately followed, the driver now making no effort to be discrete. There were only two car lengths separating them as she laid on the gas again.
“Come on, you shithead,” she muttered.
He sped up behind her and she nodded in satisfaction as she approached the entrance to a narrow, winding road. With a glance over her shoulder, she jerked the wheel hard to the right at the last second, taking a sharp, illegal turn from the left lane.
She watched as the Pinto sped by, unable to execute the same maneuver in time. With a shaky breath, she laid on the gas.
“Okay. Everything is all right,” she murmured softly.
Her rapid heartbeat slowed as the seconds passed without the Pinto coming into view in her mirror. A minute later, she finally relaxed. She was five minutes from home, singing along to an old Bon Jovi song, when the Pinto shot out from another side road to her left.
This time, it didn’t take position behind her. It came roaring up beside her like a bat out of hell. For a moment, she almost thought it was going to pass her, when suddenly it came careening toward her, smacking into the door, jarring the sedan sideways and snapping her head hard to the right.
She spun the steering wheel frantically, trying to right the vehicle, when the Pinto came at her again. Running on pure instinct, she jerked the wheel hard to avoid another ramming, sending the sedan skidding off the narrow road, straight into a fence post and smacking her head against the steering wheel.
Her ears rang as she blinked furiously, trying to clear her blurred vision. Panic clawed at her throat as she frantically glanced around, expecting to see the Pinto stopped ahead and a man walking toward her. To her everlasting relief, the car was already speeding off into the distance and she soon lost sight of it in the last of the fading daylight.
For a solid minute, she sat there shaking as she tried to get her head straight. That had escalated quickly. Gone was the sense of security she’d felt knowing this was a shakedown born of opportunity after her mother’s death. If Serina McFadden was behind this, she was letting Lena know, in no uncertain terms, just how far she was willing to go to get what she felt was hers.
Lena reached up and turned the mirror down to get a look at the damage. All things considered, it could’ve been worse. She had a cut on her forehead, and could already see a knot forming, but a quick assessment told her she didn’t have any broken bones, so that was something.
She glanced around the car for something to use to staunch the bleeding, and wound up using the sleeve of her blouse. Pushing the door open with shaky hands, she quickly surveyed the damage. Her driver’s side quarter panel was badly dented and the fender had seen better days, making her glad she’d bought the extra rental insurance, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. More importantly, it didn’t look like it would be dangerous to drive. Better to get out of here and off the road as soon as possible. But when she climbed back into the car, emotions hit her like a ton of bricks and her whole body shook like it was on a spin cycle.
She slumped forward and covered her mouth as a choked sob tore its way out.
What had she just been telling herself about not having a breakdown?
But no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop. She put her head in her hands and cried. For Maeve and for Sasha. For Maggie and for Kate. And for herself, if she was being honest. She stayed like that for a long time, until the tears finally ceased. The sky was dark and the stars were twinkling by the time she pulled back onto the road again.
No matter how scary it had been, she still couldn’t afford to report this to the police. Serina’s henchman, whoever he was, could’ve killed her if he’d wanted to. No one had driven down that road since she’d crashed, and it would likely be hours before anyone did again.
No, he didn’t want her dead. He just wanted her good and scared and, in that, he’d succeeded. But until or unless one of them was truly in mortal danger, the risk outweighed the reward. All they needed was someone asking a bunch of questions about that night all those years ago and it could all unravel. The secret Sasha had buried so deep would come to light, people would judge and stare and whisper, even as their mother’s name became mud for real this time. Kate and Sasha would lose any chance of making a go of their business idea.
She nodded to herself, more sure than ever. She would tell no one about what had just happened. Not her sisters, not Alistair or Harry, and certainly not Joe.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t talk to him…
She slowed to a stop as she approached the old Fletcher place, a wave of relief rushing over her as she saw his squad car in the driveway. He’d mentioned at dinner that he’d bought the place back after he and his wife had gotten divorced a decade or so back. She hadn’t even realized where she was headed until she’d pulled down his street a minute before. Once she’d made the turn, though, she didn’t turn back.
All she knew was that this was where she needed to be right now. She’d figure out the rest later.
She pulled into his driveway, pulling down the mirror. She didn’t want to scare him so she had to make sure she wasn’t in too bad of shape. Though the gash on her forehead wasn’t that deep and the blood had slowed to a trickle, it had swelled up and was already turning an angry shade of red.
“Something ran into the road and I was nearby,” she mumbled at her reflection before stepping out of the car. “No big deal.”
She knew how fickle it was to show up after telling him she didn’t think it was a good idea to see him again, but she had to hope he was able to see past that and understand what a confusing time this was for her. Knowing Joe, he wouldn’t even think twice about letting her in.
A minute later, she rapped on the door three times and waited. It swung open to reveal a jeans and t-shirt-clad Joe, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.
“Hey, Lena! What’s u-,” he said, eyes widening as his gaze shot to her forehead. “Geez, are you okay? What happened?” Joe said, pulling her inside and leading her over to a couch in his living room.
The décor was sturdy and masculine, like Joe himself, and the space smelled of leather and lemon furniture polish.
“Um, I was driving over on Hemlock Street and a deer ran out in front of me, so I swerved and hit a fencepost. I was a little disoriented and your place was right down the road. I hope it’s okay…”
Guilt pricked at her for the fib, but if the choice was between that and not coming at all, a white lie was a small price to pay for his company right now.
“Of course it’s okay. Sit down while I get something to clean that cut.”
He walked into the kitchen, which was connected to the living room, and pulled a bottle of antiseptic and cotton balls from the cabinet. “Those things seem to come out of nowhere sometimes. Are you sure you’re not seriously hurt? Maybe I should take you to the hospital to get checked out.”<
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“It’s fine,” she murmured, worrying the hem of her blouse. “It’s really not even that bad of a cut. It just shook me up more than anything.”
“You could have a concussion and not even know it,” he said, sitting next to her on the couch and soaking the cotton ball in the astringent-smelling liquid.
“I might,” Lena agreed, wondering if she’d made a mistake after all. “You can take a look at me and run me through concussion protocol if you think it’s necessary, but I’m not going to the hospital. Either I’ll stay here and you can keep an eye on me for a while, or I can drive myself home.”
He opened his mouth to protest but bit his tongue when Lena moved to stand up, looking at the door.
“Understood. I won’t mention it again unless you faint or your head falls off or something. This is going to hurt a bit,” he said softly as he leaned over her, pressing the cotton to her head.
The sting was instant, but she didn’t flinch.
When he finished, she quickly unclenched her fist, realizing with a start that she’d been squeezing his leg.
“Sorry about that,” she muttered, cheeks going hot.
“No problem. I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, handing her the remote, “you can put what you want on the TV.”
She settled back into the couch cushions and started to flip through the channels, but she stopped when she heard him talking in the other room. She stood up and crept over into the hallway.
If he was calling an ambulance, she was going to—
“And can I add a side of fries to that, too? Thanks. Sounds good.”
She crept back to the couch, flushing with guilt. She really had to stop being so distrustful. Especially since he’d never given her a reason to be. Not now, and not when they were kids.
“I just ordered us some takeout, I got you a bowl of chicken soup. It’s what my mama always got for me if I was feeling down. Figured it’d make you feel a bit better,” he said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing waters from the fridge, along with a bottle of aspirin.
“Joe,” she said, “this means a lot. I really appreciate you looking out for me. I didn’t want to go home all shaken up and worry my sisters. They’ve got enough on their plates.”
He nodded wordlessly, clearly uncomfortable with the gratitude, and handed her a bottle of water and two aspirin. “So what are we watching?” he said.
“How about Ace Ventura Pet Detective? It’s only been on for a few minutes,” she said, flipping back to it in the guide.
“Didn’t have you pegged for a Jim Carrey fan,” he said, grinning. “But I’m in.”
“He’s good for a laugh.” And if she ever needed one, it was now.
They settled in close to watch the movie in companionable silence. And, when he reached over and laced his fingers with hers a few minutes later?
She didn’t pull away.
Sasha
“Want to get out of here for a bit and get our minds off all this crap?” Maggie said, rising as she wiped the dust from her hands. “I’m tired of sorting through all these old pictures, anyways, and my sinuses are killing me.”
Sasha rose and followed her toward the attic’s ladder. “Thought you’d never ask,” she said, yawning.
“I’m just going to fix myself a sandwich and watch some TV, I’m beat,” Kate said, standing to follow them as they climbed down the ladder.
“What do you want to do, Sash? We could start shopping for stuff for the distillery, if you want. I know you’d have to order some of the bigger stuff online, but we could hit a hardware store and maybe somewhere to grab some jars and bottles, maybe go to a craft store for label ideas,” Maggie said, turning to Sasha as Kate made her way to the kitchen.
“Great, and we can talk marketing ideas, too, if that’s all right,” Sasha said.
Maggie nodded. “Great. Let’s see if Lena wants to get away from her computer for a bit.”
“I doubt it,” Sasha said, “she’s barely left the room the past couple of days.”
“Yeah, scary stuff. She’s lucky she’s just sporting that cut. That deer could’ve killed her,” Maggie said as they walked towards the study.
“We’re going to go to a few stores. Want to join us and get some air?” Sasha said, cracking the door, though she kind of hoped she’d say no. Ever since the other night at their impromptu confessional, she’d found the gap between her and her oldest sister even harder to bridge than usual. Lena wasn’t being mean to her by any stretch, but she just seemed distant. Like her mind was a million miles away.
Probably in Seattle, where she clearly wanted to be. And who could blame her? It had been one thing after another since she’d gotten here. The deer running her off the road had seemed like the straw that had broken the camel’s back.
“No thanks,” she said, not looking up. “I have a lot of work to do.”
Sasha shrugged and walked to the front door, pulling on her shoes. “Figured she’d say that, guess it’s just you and me.”
Maggie smiled and followed her out the door. When they got into Sasha’s blue Prius, she said, “So about getting your business started and marketing, I have something in mind I wanted to run by you that I think would be mutually beneficial.”
“Shoot,” Sasha said, turning the car on and starting to back out of the driveway.
“I know I mentioned it before, but the more I think about it, the more I think a partnership would be best for Maeve’s brand and both businesses. The Luxe is using well liquor at the moment and it would add a lot of appeal if we could serve something local and high-quality instead. Something that screamed ‘Maeve’ and Louisiana. And it’d definitely help you get off the ground. I know it takes a few years to age a good whiskey, but we could work with Sweet Maeve’s Moonshine in the meantime. I’m looking to get Ruthie from Crawdad’s to come over and I was thinking I’d have her create some signature drink recipes using it. We could even advertise for each other if we did it that way.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sasha said, feeling somewhat relieved. It was risky and a big investment of both time and money to start up a new distillery. She was going to have to use her share of the money from the sale of Mama’s jewelry to kick it off, and having a contract with a local business already in place would go a long way towards getting credit extended if she needed it. Failing to start strong in a distillery business without a lot of money behind it could be disastrous. Luckily, they still had much of the equipment for making her moonshine in the barn, offsetting some of the startup costs. It was likely that she’d have to find some kind of day job at some point, just to keep the business afloat until her whiskey was actually sellable, but this would help.
“So what else were you wondering about marketing and stuff?” Maggie asked.
“I love Sweet Maeve’s for the peach, but I’m trying to figure out if I should produce any other kinds while I’m waiting for the whiskey.”
“What if you started a line of a few different moonshines? The brand can be Sweet Maeve’s, and then put the flavor underneath. I can see the bottles now in my head. It’s still in fashion to put it in jars, like it’s still made in-home, so we could just find a few hundred big mason jars to bottle it up and order some labels,” Maggie said, seeming in her element. “I think it’d make sense to go with a rustic vibe and have the labels be that kind that looked like faded paper.”
Sasha laughed. “That helps a ton,” she said, smiling at her smart little sister. She really was good at this. “How about advertising? How do we get the name out there? I was doing some research online but I still feel like I’m a bit in the dark here.”
“Well, what’s most important is that you get it into as many local businesses as you can. If the product is high quality, it’ll drive sales to individuals, as well as provide a steady source of income because bars would buy in bulk and need a steady stream of product. I’d recommend going into a bunch of places around here in person and giving them a free jar to taste and a business car
d once you’re confident with your product. In terms of advertising to individuals, make sure you get a website and you can buy some billboard space on the highway on the edge of town,” Maggie said, her enthusiasm contagious.
“Thanks. I already feel like I have some direction, which helps,” Sasha said earnestly, taking a right into the parking lot for the local Target. “I’m sure you’ll turn The Luxe around in no time if you’re thinking like this.”
Maggie chuckled as they pulled into a parking space near the entrance to the building. “Of course. I’m a freaking genius, didn’t you know?” she said, lifting her chin with a faux-cocky smile.
Sasha laughed as they hopped out of the car and walked towards the doors of the store. “Don’t make me regret talking you up,” she said jokingly. The two of them were laughing way too hard, though probably as much from the break in the constant tension of late as because they were saying anything all that funny.
This was nice. Exactly what she’d needed.
The pair of them wandered around the store, smiling wordlessly, until they got to the aisle where the mason jars were. “These’ll do,” Sasha said, throwing a few packages of the largest jars they sold into the cart. Though the store, unfortunately, didn’t sell in bulk, they’d do to get started and do some testing. She could buy a larger quantity later on the internet.
“Looks good to me,” Maggie said, steering the cart towards the registers at the front of the store. “That’s it for here, I think. We can hit the hardware store and get whatever else you need to get started.”
Sasha followed her up to the register, grabbing two bottles of water at the fridge near the register and putting the jars on the counter. The store wasn’t busy enough for them to bother putting in conveyor belts and the cashier, who was one of two working at the moment, seemed almost surprised to have a customer when they got to her register.
“Is that everything for you today, cher?” she asked.
“That’s all,” Sasha said, paying with her card before loading the jars back into her cart and taking a long sip of water as they walked towards the doors. They stepped outside and Maggie slowed, eyes glued to the dented gray Pinto with tinted windows stopped right in the fire lane in front of the store.