Mabel’s expression softened, and she tucked an errant wisp of hair back up into her elegant bun. She wore a navy blue dress with pink rose buds on it—classic and chic all in one. As she lived alone, Gretchen wondered if she had someone online with whom she shared the town gossip. She’d certainly have a lot of it, dealing with events from birthday parties to weddings to anniversaries.
“I’ll get Jaime to come help you.” Mabel patted her arm as she passed.
Gretchen’s first instinct was to refuse the caretaker’s help. But something flinched inside her—could’ve been her hammering headache, or her twisting stomach, or her trembling hands—and told her to accept the help.
“I would appreciate that,” she said, gathering the box of corsages and boutonnieres into her arms.
* * *
An hour later, and not a single minute late, Gretchen adjusted the vase on the bride and groom’s table a fraction of an inch and stepped back. It was perfect.
She retreated to the back of the room, which held a dozen tables in black iron. Her funky, colored vases brought life to the stone, the wood on the floor, and the dark metal furniture. Everywhere she looked, roses looked back. Tall and short, bunches and singles, pink and white. Satisfaction and a sense of pride pulled through Gretchen.
She’d woven roses into a massive wreath and placed it on the arch leading out to the garden, where the ceremony would take place. The dinner and reception would also be held here, and everything was set.
Erica, the bride’s mother, entered the room already wearing her wrist corsage and her blue mother-of-the-bride dress. She gasped and her fingers fluttered around her mouth. “Gretchen, it’s wonderful.” Her eyes flitted around the room as she took in everything. “Absolutely perfect.”
“Thank you.” Gretchen hadn’t meant for the words to come out a whisper, but she realized her exhaustion had extended to her vocal chords.
“Let me get your check, then I need to sit down. We’re almost ready!” She bustled out of the reception room and returned a moment later.
Gretchen took the payment and said, “I’ll be back at nine to take down anything Belinda doesn’t want to keep or give away.”
Back in her trusty van, she had time to go over to the tire shop and get her spare, but she couldn’t make herself do it. She and Dixie lived in a little house between the Mansion and Larkin’s, and all Gretchen wanted to do was go home.
She pulled into the driveway and leaned her head against the seat. A few more hours, she coached herself. Janey would bring Dixie home at six, so Gretchen had a few minutes to relax, unwind, and make something to eat before her daughter got home.
Dixie loved grilled cheese sandwiches and vegetable beef soup, so Gretchen turned on the radio in her kitchen and got to work. She loved being home alone for just a few minutes, something she thought she’d never like.
In Seattle, when she was home alone, she always played music. She’d taken classes just to get out of the house. And she’d planned to volunteer in Dixie’s first grade class. But she’d never had that opportunity.
Her aches and pains and sadness melted away as bread browned and upbeat songs blasted through the house. She’d just pulled the last sandwich from the pan when the front door opened and Dixie called, “Mom?”
Gretchen rounded the corner and gave her daughter the biggest smile she could muster. “How was school?” She hated not being able to pick Dixie up at three o’clock, but life was life. Dixie didn’t seem to mind, and she’d be okay for an hour tonight too while Gretchen went back to the Mansion to clean up.
Dixie turned back and waved at Janey, whose black SUV inched out of sight after that. “School was great. I got to play the xylophone in music the whole time.”
Gretchen beamed at her daughter. “How was your piano lesson?”
She scowled at that one. “Janey wouldn’t pass off my song. She said it needs another week.”
“Well, then I’m sure it needs another week.” Gretchen watched the displeasure roll across Dixie’s face as she dumped her backpack next to the fridge.
“I guess.”
“I’ll sit with you in the morning,” Gretchen offered. “We’ll get it.” She turned back to the island. “I made sandwiches and soup.”
Dixie brightened after that, claimed to not have homework, and fell asleep in Dixie’s bed while she read a book about famous composers. Gretchen loved that Dixie enjoyed music, liked to sing and learn about the theory behind it, and read books she’d read before about Johann Sebastian Bach. Aaron had very much been into the symphony, the ballet, and had been an excellent violinist himself.
Though he hadn’t played for years, his love for classical music had obviously infected Dixie. Gretchen carefully extracted the book from her daughter’s fingers and crept from the bedroom. Her own tiredness had not been alleviated with painkillers or the few bites of sandwich she’d eaten.
Maybe she was coming down with something. Her stomach coiled like a snake about to strike, and she’d been able to eat very little though she felt hungry. She simply felt…off. But she had flowers to take down, so with every door locked at her comfy cottage, she returned to the Magleby Mansion.
A cheer erupted from the front doors at the same time she entered from the back. A smile touched her face as she remembered her own wedding day. She’d been the happiest bride, because she’d been marrying her one and only true love.
A pang of loneliness hit her right behind the heart. It seemed so unjust that she had to lose him so early. Would she ever find someone to love as much as she’d loved Aaron? She wasn’t sure that was possible, and she’d barely dated since his death anyway. Dixie only deserved the best, and Gretchen was content with providing for the two of them.
Why then, was Drew’s face floating through her mind?
Distracted, she stepped onto an uneven stone, and her ankle rolled. A hot bolt of pain shot up her leg and a cry burst from her mouth, only amplified when her knees hit the hard floor moments later. The walls spun and blurred into brown and white streaks while she tried to find a decent breath.
“Hey, you okay?” Someone touched her arms, but Gretchen couldn’t seem to find the person. Okay, okay, okay echoed in her head.
She closed her eyes. If she could just have a minute, she’d be fine. Her vision would clear and she’d stand. Get her flowers taken down. Go home. Maybe stay home tomorrow.
“Gretchen?”
She thought the voice belonged to Jaime, who’d helped her carry in the flowers earlier. Of course he’d be here. He was probably making sure everything got cleaned up after the wedding. She’d seen him at plenty of other events while cleaning up.
“I’m fine,” she managed to say, though her voice was breathy. Her hand touched stone beside her and the smell of caramel and chocolate assaulted her senses. At least things were working again.
With Jaime’s help, she got back to her feet, blinking all the while. “Thank you, Jaime.” She gave the man a smile she hoped would convey her gratitude. He was about her age, married with two daughters, and lived just down the hill for easy access to the property. His dark eyes held nothing but concern.
“Did you hit your head?” he asked.
“No, I just twisted my ankle.” She tested her weight on it, and it hurt but not so much that she couldn’t work out the kinks and walk. “I’m fine, honestly.”
He dropped her hand and gestured toward the reception room. “They’re finished, so we can go in.”
Gretchen squared her shoulders and set a time limit for herself to beat. She found if she made clean up a game, it went by faster and got done with less moodiness. She’d started it when Dixie was a toddler and used to throw tantrums about the simplest of chores. Now she’d empty the dishwasher, practice the piano, and clean up her laundry without too much of a fuss. Gretchen could certainly get the leftover flowers in a box and in the back of the van before she ran out of energy.
She had the two remaining centerpieces and all the vases in the
box, thinking she was done already, when she spied the wreath on the arch. She went outside to get the ladder, avoiding the uneven parts of the floor, and found it in its customary spot off to the right, leaning against the side of a storage shed. She stepped onto the grass and tried to lift it.
Not happening.
She tried again anyway, trying to remember how she’d used it to hang the wreath that afternoon. Her mind felt soft around the edges, because she couldn’t recall. She did manage to lift the ladder a few inches off the ground—only to have gravity reclaim it.
The metal made a crunching sound against the bones in her foot, and the painful headache she’d been nursing all day exploded. Only agony existed, and she was aware of a howl tearing through the darkness before she toppled backward.
Her head whiplashed against the ground, and while it wasn’t stone, a sound like gunfire rattled through her skull. Every muscle went limp, and she gazed up into the star-filled sky, wondering how long it would take for someone to find her.
Dixie loves stars. The thought rotated slowly in her sluggish mind.
A flash of silver blocked out the pinpoints of light. Somehow, she had the wherewithal to throw her hands over her face as the ladder descended toward her. Thankfully, she lost consciousness before impact.
Chapter Five
Adam pulled open the silverware drawer and withdrew a fistful of forks. “Time to eat,” he said as he tossed them on the counter next to the salmon he’d just extracted from the oven.
It wasn’t fish and chips, but Drew didn’t care. It was food he hadn’t had to make, and his brother had always been exceptionally skilled at making the seafood easily obtained from the docks into something delicious.
Russ took the biggest piece of salmon and spooned the butter lemon sauce over the top. “I can’t believe you can cook like this and you aren’t married.”
“He’s seeing Anita Andrus,” Drew said without thinking. Adam’s growl reminded him that the relationship wasn’t quite public yet. “I mean…” He flashed frantic glances between his brother and Russ, who scooped half the roasted potatoes onto his plate.
“Did you go see Mom and Joel this morning?” he asked, hoping Russ was so enamored with food that hadn’t come from a box that he wouldn’t remember the name Anita Andrus.
“Yeah,” Adam said. “They looked good.” He dished himself some food and headed for the couch a few feet away. His brother had been taking carpentry lessons from Joel, and together they’d remodeled Adam’s house. The once separate living and dining and kitchen area was now one big room, delineated with a rug in the sitting area and a pot rack hanging above the kitchen island. Though it was more open, the house now radiated a kind of warm coziness it hadn’t before.
Outside, the wind rattled something in the yard, and one of Drew’s shepherds barked. He tried to find Blue and Chief, but Adam hadn’t quite gotten to widening the windows and the dogs were nowhere in sight. They were fine. They loved to run and lie in the grass, and Adam’s neighbors had a couple of cats they liked to torment through the fence slats.
Drew joined his brother on the couch. “Food’s great.”
“Did you invite Gretchen and her daughter to the Safety Fair?” Russ asked as he perched on the edge of the recliner to eat.
Drew tried to act like it was no big deal. That he went around inviting everyone he’d ever met to the special guests portion of the upcoming event. “Yeah.”
“Did she say she’d come?”
Why did Russ care? He speared two potatoes and put them both in his mouth. Drew watched him for another half-second, trying to figure out the line of questioning.
“She has a lot of weddings in the spring,” he finally said, echoing what she’d told him.
“I invited that woman from the crosswalk.”
“The hit and run?” Adam asked, glancing up from his food.
“The guy barely bumped her,” Drew said. “She didn’t even lose consciousness.”
“She’s the closest to wounded that I’ve helped,” Russ said.
“You held her elbow while she stepped up into the bus.” Drew shook his head, a smile pulling at his mouth. He understood why Russ would invite her though.
“Yeah, well, she said she might come.”
A thread of unease pulled through Drew. He couldn't be the only one there without a special guest. Of course you can. He’d done it every year before leaving for Medina, and last year after he’d returned to town too.
“Joel says they’ll need help with the lavender harvest this weekend,” Adam said after a beat. “And Mom wants us to come for dinner on Sunday.”
“All right,” Drew agreed without really thinking about what he was committing to. He finished dinner, thanked his brother, got his dogs loaded in the back of his truck, and headed out.
He stopped at Duality before going home, because he was hoping for an hour or two on the couch, Blue and Chief on either side of him while a baseball game blared on the TV. And that required snacks. Maybe one of those baked-then-fried loaded potato skins. He’d collected the food from the eatery and had just picked up a bag of chocolate when his phone shrieked at him.
The candy hit the floor in his haste to answer the after-hours emergency operator. “Drew Herrin,” he said, no wasted words, no wasted time.
“We have a woman with injuries, unconscious, as the Magleby Mansion. Location?”
“Duality,” Drew said, already striding toward the exit. “I’m five minutes away.” So a slight exaggeration, but he could speed on the way up the coast.
“We’re routing a bus,” Trudy said. “It’s twenty minutes out.”
“I have a bag in my truck. Anyone else?” He swung himself into the truck and had it on the road in only moments.
“Dispatch is in calls.”
Which meant the call had gone out simultaneously. He’d see Russ and Adam up at the Mansion for sure. He just wanted to get there first. So he ended his call and focused on his destination.
When he arrived at the Mansion, it wasn’t hard to tell where the victim was. People stood around in a semi-circle, with a woman kneeling on the ground, cradling someone’s head in their lap. Frustration blipped through Drew. They’d already moved the injured person. Never good.
“Paramedics,” he called in a loud voice, soliciting the attention of the handful of people there.
“Drew,” someone breathed. “Thank goodness. It’s Drew Herrin.”
The crowd parted, and Drew saw Mabel Magleby was the one kneeling on the grass. And Gretchen Samuels had her eyes closed, seemingly asleep.
His stride faltered as time stalled for a heartbeat. He had one brief moment to admire her beauty before reason and duty kicked in and he continued forward. Shaking the confusing thoughts of her fair features from his mind, he set his bag on the ground and said, “Tell me what happened.”
“I found her.” Jaime Allcott stepped forward. “She was here to take down her flowers. She sprained her ankle and fell in the hallway before we even started. She seemed fine, and I guess she came to get the ladder. When she didn’t come back, I started to wonder where she’d gone, because she’d left her box and vases inside.”
The ladder now leaned up against the building. Blood was smeared across Gretchen’s face, but her chest rose and fell. Airway seemed normal. “Where was the ladder when you found her?”
She definitely wasn’t alert. “Gretchen?” he said loudly, hoping she’d respond with a twitch, a jerk, or perhaps even wake up. “Gretchen, it’s Drew Herrin. Can you hear me?”
Nothing. No eye flutter. No flinch.
“Jaime?” Drew glanced up. “Where was the ladder?”
Jaime’s feet shuffled. “On top of her. She was on her back. She was already unconscious.”
On top of her. Drew’s chest seized a bit. “How long do you estimate she was missing before you found her?” He picked up her hand and pressed his fingernail against hers. This pain test could help him determine how unconscious she was. A sli
ght pull in her hand as she tried to recoil from the pain.
Good. Better than nothing.
He pulled a stethoscope from his bag and looped it around his neck. “How long, Jaime?” Maybe the man needed to be treated for shock. It could be difficult to find someone passed out, with a ladder on top of them, with the amount of blood she had on her face.
Drew didn’t wait for an answer before putting in the earpieces and listening to her heart. It seemed strong enough—there. He cocked his head and listened again, focusing on a blade of grass haloed in lamplight. A murmur. He wondered if she knew about it, had felt lightheaded at all lately.
If a ladder had fallen on her, she could’ve been knocked unconscious. She could’ve fainted first. She could have multiple fractures or broken bones in her ribs, torso, and legs. He couldn’t assess any of that—a doctor and an x-ray machine was needed.
He only stabilized. Revived. Gave comfort and hope. Oh, and he could deliver a baby.
“Why’d you move her?” He looked at Mabel, who gazed at him with a flash of indignation, but it softened quickly.
“I didn’t want her to be alone.”
Drew understood how she felt, but he couldn’t fathom why. It just didn’t seem fair that someone like Gretchen should have to do anything alone—like lift a ladder. Or come back here at nine o’clock at night to clean up flowers and vases.
“The ambulance is coming,” he said. “I need you to let her lie flat. She could have broken bones if a ladder fell on top of her.”
Mabel seemed to grip Gretchen more tightly.
“It’s okay,” Drew said. “She responded to a pain stimulus. She’s breathing okay and her heart’s beating.” Irregularly, but no one deserved to know that. Her nose was probably broken if the blood on her face was any indication. No matter what, she’d wake up with a hefty headache.
Like a flash of lightning, he thought of her daughter. She’d said earlier that she would put her to bed before coming to take down the flowers. She was probably home alone.
A siren, faint and in the distance, met his ears. He needed to do something about Dixie before he climbed in the bus and took her to the hospital. What had she said her friend’s name was? The one picking Dixie up from school?
Hawthorne Harbor Box Set Page 4