Maeve's Girls

by Christine Gael

  “Weird. That’s the same car I thought followed me into the parking lot of The Luxe the other day,” Maggie whispered.

  Sasha frowned then tossed her hair over one shoulder. “At least we’re in public. So let’s see what they want,” she said, striding up to the car. “Mama always said, ‘If you can’t avoid a confrontation, be sure to be the one doing the confronting’.”

  She was about to rap the passenger-side window when the driver opened his door and stepped out. He was a little older than Sasha and sported a mop of greasy dark hair, but it was his lifeless, dark eyes that made her wish she’d resisted the impulse to confront him.

  In for a penny…

  “So who the hell are you? Just a regular run of the mill stalker or another McFadden spawn?” Sasha demanded, walking around the car and putting her face just close enough to his for him to feel uncomfortable.

  “Jeb, to you. And I’m the messenger. This is for y’all from Serina,” he said, meeting her gaze and smiling as he put a note into Sasha’s hand. “You have a nice day now,” he said, stepping back into his car before Sasha had a chance to respond. He revved the gas and she stepped aside, heart hammering as he pulled away.

  “You’re nuts, Sash. Why would you get in his face like that?” Maggie demanded, gaping at Sasha with wide eyes.

  “He’s basically been stalking us. What was I supposed to do, just smile and go for a handshake? Screw that guy,” Sasha said angrily as she unfolded the note.

  “I’ve never seen anyone look more like Mama than you just now,” Maggie murmured, clearly still jittery as Sasha scanned the typed note.

  She ignored the compliment and kept reading:

  Long time, no see, girls!

  Now that I’ve got your attention, I think it’s time we meet up to talk business. Meet me at the gazebo in Tanner Park on Thursday evening. Tell big sis to leave her boyfriend home unless y’all want him to find out exactly what happened that faithful night all them years ago.

  PS: Bring your checkbook…

  * * *

  Sasha handed the note to Maggie, mind racing. “First off, it’s ‘fateful night’, you stupid cow,” she muttered, trying to process Serina’s latest move. It was a bold one—especially having someone approach them at a store in broad daylight—but one they’d all been expecting.

  Serina was clearly feeling confident, which was making the hairs on the back of Sasha’s neck stand up.

  What if Serina and her lackeys really did have some proof? It would ruin everything…

  “Let’s head home now and tell Lena and Kate, we can go to the hardware store a different day,” Maggie said.

  “He’s lucky I was reading the note when he pulled out of here, or he’d be the one getting tailed for once,” Sasha growled, clenching her fists in anger at the implied threat in the note as she walked towards her car. “But you’re right, let’s go talk to them and figure out how we’re going to handle this.”

  “If we pay her off, when does it end?” Maggie said as they climbed into the car. “And then, it’s like admitting guilt, isn’t it?”

  Sasha nodded grimly. “Which is exactly why I’m going to suggest taking care of it a different way.”

  Maggie eyed her suspiciously. “Like a crowbar kind of way or…?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Don’t go off half-cocked, Sash. We’ve got to think this through and do what’s best for everyone here, especially you. If this stuff gets out about Mama--”

  Sasha started the car and held up a hand. “We’ll talk about it with the others and then decide. For now, I just need to do some deep breathing and meditating.”

  Per her request, Maggie went quiet. But Sasha wasn’t meditating at all. She was thinking about how much she hated being afraid…resented being backed into a corner.

  And if it kept up, somebody was going to get bit.

  Lena

  Tiny rainbows covered the kitchen floor and the hallway as Lena regarded the hundreds of jars sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. She cocked her hands on her hips and shook her head slowly. How many did Sash need just to start?

  “A lot more are coming, I’m afraid.”

  Lena whirled at the voice coming from the doorway.

  Sasha smiled an apology and shrugged. “You looked a little exasperated at the jars taking up all the counter space.”

  “I-- It’s alright. I’m looking for a little counter space, is all.” Lena gave her a tight smile. “I wanted a cup of chamomile tea.”

  “To soothe the nerves,” Sasha murmured as she stepped into the kitchen and began clearing some space.

  Lena nodded. They all needed something to calm them down. They had been around and around the subject a thousand times over the past couple days, and still hadn’t come to a solid answer. Alistair had dug into Clyde’s will and life insurance policy, but it was taking him longer than expected to get through all the paperwork. He’d promised to call the following morning. Once they knew exactly what they stood to lose, they could finally decide how to proceed.

  Until then, everyone was walking on eggshells and would be until their meeting was in the rearview.

  “It’s a good idea, you know,” Sasha told her as she pulled out the tea things.

  “What is?”

  “The tea.” Sasha turned to face her sister. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Not at all.” Lena shook her head. “I thought I’d offer some to everyone.” She gestured to the table and all the jars. “But that might not be feasible.”

  “Oh, I’ll move them. They just needed to be cleaned and counted.” Sasha bustled around the room.

  “It’s a good idea, you know,” Lena echoed her sister’s earlier sentiment.

  “What is?” Sasha’s forehead creased in puzzlement.

  “The whiskey and moonshine. It’s a good investment.”

  “I--I have to admit, I never thought you’d approve.”

  “Yeah, it’s not like me, is it?” Lena said with a shrug.

  But it would put the house to use and kept her sisters busy and happy. What was better than that? And it might even bring some new jobs into La Pierre, eventually, which was always good. Lena liked to think of her family continuing to do some good for the community.

  It sure needed it.

  At that moment, Lena’s phone rang, cutting her thoughts short.

  “Hello?” Lena carried her phone out to the porch for a little privacy as she noted Joe’s name blinking on the screen.

  “Hey, how are you feeling?”

  Lena’s pulse ticked harder as she tried to act casual. “Much better, thanks. The cut is healing and the bruise looks ugly, but it doesn’t hurt much anymore.” She paused and cleared her throat. “It’s nice to hear from you, I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “I can call back if it’s not a good time.”

  “No, that’s not necessary. What can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the county fair over in Bingham tonight.”

  “The fair?” Lena repeatedly dumbly.

  The humor was evident in Joe’s reply. “Yeah, you know, Ferris wheel, cotton candy, rigged games run by unscrupulous carnies. Could be a lot of fun. I’ll drive so you don’t have to worry about suicidal deer.”

  “Oh, Joe,” Lena started. Surely, she should stay preparing for the meeting tomorrow.

  Prepare how, though?

  What exactly could she do but fret until the meet up? She was already wearing the wood down with her pacing.

  Things were going to hit the fan, that was certain, and who knew if she’d ever see Joe or even talk to him again after that? She sure could use a break from all the pressure and worry here.

  A break from the constant fear.

  A break from reality.

  And there was nothing more steeped in fantasy than a night out with Joe. He’d been so sweet to her when she’d gone to his house a bruised, sniveling mess. And when he’d walked her out four hours later, she
’d felt a thousand times better. Safer. More secure, just from having been in his calming, strong presence.

  A little more of that would do her a world of good now, when her stomach was in knots.

  “I’d love to.”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  Joe hung up without saying goodbye, a habit, Lena guessed, from his job. She put her phone in her pants pocket and leaned against the porch railing.

  Another date with Joe Fletcher.

  And she couldn’t even work up an ounce of regret. For all she knew, her three months in La Pierre could be over after tomorrow. If Serina had some sort of proof in regard to Clyde’s murder, there might not even be an estate to split.

  When Lena slipped into the passenger seat of Joe’s truck a while later, she was already feeling better.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself,” Joe replied.

  He sat, one arm draped across the steering wheel, once more in uniform. A uniform that emphasized his broad shoulders, and his natural, rugged build. He watched her intently, his perceptive eyes taking in her every detail.

  “Sorry about the uniform, I just got off duty.” He gave her a slow smile. “But you’re looking gorgeous.”

  She tried to fight back a blush. Good Lord, she wasn’t fifteen anymore. This was ridiculous.

  His gaze shifted and he nodded toward the house. “We seem real popular just about now.”

  Lena didn’t bother to glance at all three of her sisters peering out the front window.

  Joe laughed. “Should we see if they want to come with?”

  Lena raised one eyebrow at him.

  “All righty then, let’s get out of here.”

  They pulled into a crowded parking lot far sooner than Lena expected. Joe was just so easy to talk to, she hadn’t realized how long they’d been on the road until the flashing lights of the fairway caught her eye.

  “So, what’s first?” Joe asked as they made their way to the ticket booth. “Pig races, extreme wood carving, petting zoo, tractor pull?”

  “Extreme wood carving?” Lena laughed. “What even is that?”

  “Extreme wood carving it is,” he shot back with a grin.

  Lena slapped his shoulder. “Jerk!” she laughed.

  His gray eyes twinkled with merriment, and he held out his arm.

  She took it like a high-class lady in a ballroom, and together they headed into the fray.

  After he bought their tickets, they strolled the fairway. Food booths of every kind offered all manner of fried treats.

  “How do you fry milk?” Lena asked, eyeing a sign.

  “Freeze it?”

  “It would melt.”

  “Soak the dough in milk?”

  “Then it’s not fried milk, it’s just fried dough…”

  “Witchcraft?” Joe suggested.

  Corndogs, funnel cakes, and chicken on a stick gave way to less traditional foods such as crawfish boudin sausage and Nutella, marshmallow, bacon, and peanut butter sandwiches.

  “If only Elvis were still around,” Joe remarked in mournful tones.

  Less pleasant scents of dust, animal feces, sweat, and unwashed bodies combined with the smell of food to assail Lena’s nose.

  “Food first, or on to the extreme wood carving?” Joe asked, one brow raised.

  “Educate me.”

  “They use chainsaws on big logs.”

  “I’m underwhelmed. Let’s eat.”

  “I didn’t realize you were such a connoisseur.”

  Lena laughed.

  “As the lady wishes.” Joe swept her over to a candy apple stall with one arm around her waist.

  Later, mouths sticky with caramel, they strolled past the craft booths. Lena glanced over hand-knitted blankets, wooden spoons, and earrings made from recycled aluminum. Joe steered her over to a secluded booth and sat her down on a stool.

  Lena looked up at him, puzzled.

  “Caricatures,” he said and plopped down next to her.

  Ten minutes and twenty dollars later, Lena held a grotesquely exaggerated picture of the two of them.

  Huge eyes with even larger eyelashes protruded below a schoolmarm’s bun. Pouty lips shone, so exaggerated she had to laugh. Joe was all angles, and his eyes gleamed, twinkling with an inner light.

  When Lena glanced up at him, she found the same look on his rugged face.

  She’d never get rid of it, she vowed.

  “Next up,” Joe announced, “let’s grab some tea...”

  “Tea? I’m not thirsty.” But then she saw the direction of his mischievous gaze. “Oh, no! You don’t mean--”

  He did.

  Despite her protests, Joe somehow got Lena onto the teacup ride. She hauled on the giant wheel in front of them as hard as she could, gleefully taking revenge as she savagely whirled them around in circles.

  “Take that!” she cried.

  When they finally exited the ride, they were both unsteady on their feet. “Maybe we need to take it easy.”

  “Wimp.” Lena snorted. “Let’s do the gravitron next!”

  Joe visibly paled as he contemplated the spinning, gravity defying ride.

  “Let’s do something else first,” he compromised. “Ferris wheel?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  The pair strolled toward the rides, passing the arcade games along the way. Teenaged couples littered the path, crowding around brightly lit stands offering giant stuffed animals and overpriced plastic dolls.

  Joe caught Lena’s glance.

  “You need one of those,” he said, tone matter of fact as if nothing in the world had ever been so obvious.

  “Joe, I don’t--”

  “Hush. It’s a chance to show off my skills,” he drawled.

  “Your skills at… throwing stuff, orrr?” she asked, staring around the nearest booths.

  “Pitching,” he corrected. “Or shooting.”

  “Three tickets grants you four shots at knocking down the correct bottle. Do that, good Sheriff, and your lovely friend will win the elusive unicorn!” The barker gestured to a fluffy poof with a rainbow tail. “Fail, and, well, I won’t give you good odds for getting a raise next year.”

  Lena laughed politely at the lame joke, but the reminder of Joe’s job sent the guilt bubbling up again. The past couple times she’d seen him, he’d asked if all was quiet since the window incident, and she’d flat out lied and said everything was fine. Surely, he’d be furious if he ever found out she withheld information from him about an active case. And rightfully so. But in spite of their history and the pockets of joy spending time with him had given her since she’d arrived back in La Pierre, family was family. If she had to break the law, and his trust to protect them?

  She would.

  She glanced toward him and couldn’t help but smile despite the bubble of guilt in her belly. His fierce look of determination as he raised the dinky gun to the level of his eyes made her pulse skitter. He was really something. And he was trying so hard to show her a good time.

  With an effort of pure willpower, Lena pushed thoughts of demented drivers and ugly threats aside again. She was here with Joe and she was going to let go and just have fun.

  Lena watched Joe as he fired off shot after shot, knocking down bottle after bottle. He turned to her with a boyishly triumphant smile and she laughed and clapped appreciatively.

  The barker let out a low whistle. “I should’ve known. Here’s your unicorn!” He held out a fluffy lump with a plastic horn and crossed eyes.

  “My hero,” she murmured, taking the unicorn with one hand and Joe’s arm with the other.

  They sauntered off in search of the most extreme wood carving they could find.

  For the next two hours, she didn’t think of Serina, or her sisters, or about what to do next. She only thought of how good Joe Fletcher made her feel.

  “I had a great time,” she admitted softly as they finally headed toward the park
ing lot by tacit agreement. The balmy night breeze whipped at her hair, mussing her bun. Every so often, their shoulders bumped, knuckles grazing each other’s as they walked, and her body pulsed with anticipation.

  How long had it been since she’d felt this way?

  “Me too.” They slowed to a stop as they reached his vehicle and he laid a hand on her door. “It doesn’t have to end yet, you know.”

  His words hung between them, more a question than a statement. And when she met his gaze, it was full of promise.

  She should say no.

  She didn’t want to.

  If things went badly with Serina, this could be her last and only chance. One night, no regrets.

  “I’d like that.”

  He lifted a hand and cupped her face. For a golden, perfect moment, the rest of the world fell away. In the next instant, she was wrapped in his strong arms, reveling in his strength, enveloped in his masculine scent. She immersed herself in the moment fully, melting into his kiss, stamping it on her mind like a tattoo that she hoped would last forever.

  After all, tomorrow, he might be the enemy.

  But at least we have tonight…

  Kate

  "I don't see how we have any choice."

  Kate looked around the table at each of her sisters in turn, stopping at Lena, whose face was impassive.

  She was holding up like a champ, per usual, despite the disappointing call from Alistair an hour earlier, but Kate knew she was suffering. When she'd snuck into the house early that morning, she'd looked so young. Her hair loose around her shoulders, a soft smile playing about her full lips, silly unicorn in hand. The second she'd seen Kate sitting at the table with her coffee, reality had come caving in.

  The Lena before her now looked pinched and pale, not a hair out of place, as if asserting control over all the things within her power would somehow help her control this.

  It wouldn't. One way or another, the ending to this feud was going to be ugly. The only question was, who would get hit in the crossfire, and if the wounds they sustained would be fatal.