The Sibling

by Diane Moody

  Cover design by OBT Graphix

  with an assist from Hannah Moody

  Shutterstock photo ID: 582234682 - by krsmanovic

  Front cover photo: Hannah Moody

  Will L. Thompson. Softy and Tenderly Jesus is Calling. (Chicago, Illinois: Will L. Thompson & Company, 1880). Public Domain.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  The Sibling

  Copyright © 2019 by Diane Moody

  All rights reserved.

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  For your reading pleasure, an excerpt of Diane Moody's bestselling mystery, The Runaway Pastor's Wife, is included following the author page and acknowledgments.

  Prologue

  Charlene blinked at her reflection in the large and brightly lit bathroom mirror, making sure her false eyelashes were on straight. She dazzled a smile and admired the thick black lashes against her sparkly purple eye shadow. Satisfied, she gave her wild platinum curls and extensions another quick fluff then spritzed them in place. As she reached for her lip gloss, the door to their suite opened then slammed, rattling the mirror.

  “I’m in here, Harley,” she called, anxious to hear what happened.

  He stormed into the bathroom, shut the toilet lid, and plopped down on it.

  With the tube of lip gloss poised in her hand, she twisted around to face him. “So? What did they say?”

  He groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “They said if I don’t give them the fifty grand in hard cash within twenty-four hours, they’ll break both my legs then toss me off the roof of Caesar’s Palace.”

  She snickered and turned back around to gloss her lips. “Oh, they’re just trying to scare you, honey. You know how these people are. All bark, no bite.”

  He raised his head and leveled a glare at her, the kind that always made her feel dumb as a rock.

  “Now, Harley Bear, you’ve still got your home and your business—coming up with that little chunk of change shouldn’t be that difficult. Right, sweetie?”

  “Charlene, don’t you get it? They want cash and they want it now or they are going to kill me! THEY. ARE. GOING. TO. KILL. ME!”

  She spun around and put her hands on her hips. “Then what are we gonna do?”

  He stood up and headed for the door, then paused and pivoted with a loud sigh. “Get your stuff together. We’re taking a road trip.”

  Chapter 1

  Aubrey Evans took the Braxton exit off I-40 West, anxious to break free from the relentless traffic pouring out of Nashville. The wipers of the SUV rental kept a steady beat against the heavy rain as she crept to a stop off the exit ramp. After several tractor-trailers pulled out from the truck stop across the road, she turned right and passed the Sonic Drive-In on one corner and the local bank on the other. Making a left onto Main Street, she headed into town. Down the road at Braxton Elementary School, the empty playground swings danced back and forth in the miserable weather that kept the kids indoors. Just beyond the school’s fenced property, a Dollar General store popped into view, a new addition since her last visit.

  Which was when, exactly? Christmas a year ago?

  She hadn’t meant to stay away so long, but work had been brutal the last couple of years. Too many clients. Too many properties to manage, and not enough hands on deck to sustain the pace necessary to keep ahead of their competition.

  Didn’t matter. She was here now.

  She turned again, another left, passing the original Lanham Grocery Store as an older couple huddled beneath an enormous golf umbrella, pushing their cart through the puddled parking lot. Beyond them, the city’s town square came into view. Mums in muted fall colors filled the hanging baskets on the vintage lamp posts dotting the square’s sidewalks. All around the square, shop lights glowed beneath dark green awnings, radiating a small town coziness in spite of the dreary sky above.

  Denton’s Diner.

  Betty’s Sewing Shop.

  Harley’s Florist.

  Bert’s Laundromat.

  Gevin Parker Photography Studio.

  Addison & Son Jewelry.

  A coffee shop with a Coming Soon! sign in the window.

  Shop after shop, each a quaint fixture anchoring the hub of the town square. Such a vivid contrast to her neighborhood in Brooklyn. Polar opposites in just about every way, but Aubrey had to admit she liked the ambiance of her parents’ adopted hometown.

  Turning one last corner, she glanced ahead to the shop on the opposite corner called A Little Bit of Everything, its name penned in whimsical gold lettering across the front window. The eclectic shop had been her parents’ retirement adventure for the past five years now.

  When she realized the lights were on inside the shop, she assumed someone else was minding the store for her mother. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she caught a glimpse of her mother disappearing down one of the shop’s aisles.

  Aubrey pulled into the angled parking spot in front of the store. Turning off the ignition, she watched her mother emerge again, carrying an armload of collectibles to the front display window.

  “She’s working today?” she said aloud.

  Aubrey jumped out of the rental then made a dash for the shop’s door beneath the awning. She pressed the fob and listened for the SUV’s beep as it locked and winked its lights. Only then did her mother look up.

  Aubrey opened the door and shook the rain off her clothes. “Mother, what are you doing?”

  “Oh sweetheart, you’re home!” She dropped a vintage suitcase and rushed toward her.

  Aubrey opened her arms and wrapped them around her mother, inhaling the scent of her familiar cologne. “Oh Mom,” she breathed, holding her tight, alarmed how fragile she felt in her embrace. All skin and bones beneath her flowing blouse and long skirt.

  Aubrey took a step back, careful to hold her emotions in check. “Why are you here? I was just passing by on my way to the house when I saw your lights on. Why are you open today?”

  Faye Evans rubbed her hands together. “I suppose I didn’t know what else to do with myself. There’s only so much sitting around a body can do. And I couldn’t stay closed. It’s our busy season, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint our customers.”

  Aubrey cupped her damp hands against her mother’s cheeks. “But you shouldn’t be here. It’s not even been … it was just last night that Dad …”

  She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t even form the words. “Please, let’s close and go home. There’s so much we need to talk about, and I need to get out of these wet clothes.”

  Faye looked her over from head to toe. “Yes, you’re a sight, aren’t you? When did your bus get in?”

  “I didn’t take a bus, Mom.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “I flew, remember? My plane landed at noon. It was the earliest flight I could catch on such short notice.”

  Her mother looked beyond her. “Then whose car is that?”

  “It’s a rental.” A fleeting coil of concern took root in her stomach. “Mom, are you okay?”

  “Me? Yes, I suppose I am. But honey, you shouldn’t have made such a fuss.” She brushed a w
et strand of hair off Aubrey’s forehead. “You could’ve waited to come this weekend. I know how hard it is for you to get away from work.”

  Aubrey blinked in confusion, the threads tightening in her stomach. “I came as soon as I could to be with you! And don’t we need to make arrangements for Dad’s funeral?”

  The briefest flicker of something passed through her mother’s eyes. “Oh.” She rubbed her hands together again, then glanced over Aubrey’s shoulder out the front window. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

  Aubrey watched her a moment more then walked over to the drawer beneath the cash register on the counter. She started to reach in for the shop keys her parents always kept there, but found instead a tangled mess of rubber bands, paper clips, ink pens, loose change, and a strange assortment of magnets all stuck together in a large cluster. The keys were always kept on a red bandana, knotted through the key chain. Impossible to miss, even in a mess like this.

  “Mom, do you have the keys?”

  “No, they’re in the drawer beneath the register.”

  Aubrey looked up to find her mother working on the window display again as if they’d never talked of going home. She draped a plaid scarf over the old suitcase and placed it just so. Aubrey wondered if work was helping her cope with her sudden loss. Her parents had just celebrated their fortieth anniversary back in July.

  Then yesterday, in the blink of an eye, Jed Evans was gone.

  She tamped down the lump rising in her throat as she closed the drawer. “No, they’re not here. Check your pockets.”

  Faye moved a small Tiffany lamp to a side table in the display then leaned over to plug it into a floor socket. “Sweetheart, could you bring me that little white basket of ivy? There on the counter.”

  Aubrey complied and watched as her mother positioned the basket on the table beside the lamp.

  “There. How does that look?”

  “Perfect. You’re such a natural, knowing how to group things together, blending textures and colors. It’s a gift, you know.”

  “That’s what your father always says. He tells folks I have a golden touch.”

  “Mom, look in your pockets. We need to find your keys.”

  “Oh?” She patted her pockets and smiled, finding them in her left pocket. “Silly me. I guess I forgot to put them back in the drawer.”

  Aubrey reached for them and returned to the front door to lock it. She flipped the sign to CLOSED and returned to the counter.

  “Honey, what are you doing? We always stay open until five.”

  “Not today.” She pulled a blank sheet of paper out of the stationery drawer and quickly fashioned a temporary sign. She snapped a piece of tape from the dispenser, then returned to the front door and taped it inside the door’s window.

  “We are now officially closed until further notice. Folks will understand.”

  “Oh honey, please don’t—”

  “You close out the register, and I’ll get the lights.”

  “But—”

  “Mom, the shop will be here waiting for you. I promise. It’s not exactly crawling with customers, so we’re going home.”

  Faye’s shoulders slumped, her eyes wide behind her round, red-framed glasses. “I didn’t know what else to do. Ever since we moved here, it’s all I’ve known. It’s been our life. And now … oh Aubrey, how will I ever live without him?”

  Aubrey closed the distance between them, pulling her mother into her arms as her slender body quaked with grief.

  “I don’t know, Mom.” She rested her chin on her mother’s head. “I don’t know. But somehow we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

  Her mother clung tight, her soft cries echoing the sadness surrounding Aubrey’s heart.

  “Don’t you worry. I’m here now. We’ll figure it out.”

  Chapter 2

  Peyton Gellar checked his watch as he rushed up the porch steps of the Evans’s home. He was over three hours late thanks to a flat tire on the way home from a prayer breakfast in downtown Nashville. Changing a tire on the shoulder of an interstate was tricky on the best of days, but in a downpour it was outright scary. He prayed out loud with every tractor-trailer that blew by, especially those that inched over the line. Once the spare tire was securely in place, he tossed the flat one in his trunk and headed home.

  He’d left a voice mail on Faye’s number to apologize for running late and promised to be there as soon as he could. Drenched to the bone, he hustled home to grab a quick shower. Now, standing before the door, he knocked then raked his fingers through his damp hair as the door finally opened.

  “Yes?”

  “Oh … uh, hello,” he stammered, surprised to find a rather tall young woman standing in the threshold before him. She had to be close to six feet tall as her eyes leveled with his. Green eyes. An olive shade with streaks of caramel. He’d never seen eyes that color before. He knew he was staring but couldn’t seem to help himself. He noticed a sadness framing her face and suddenly remembered where he was and why he was there.

  “I’m sorry. I was expecting Faye, so when you answered the door, I … well, for a minute there, I wasn’t sure if I was at the right house.”

  “You’re here to see my mother?”

  “So, you must be her daughter?”

  Their questions overlapped, then each waited for the other to speak. When neither did, they spoke again simultaneously, then chuckled at the repeated attempt.

  Her smile still lingered. “Yes, I’m Aubrey, Faye’s daughter.”

  He extended his hand to her. “Nice to meet you, Aubrey. Although I wish it were under different circumstances, of course. I’m so very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” She shook then let go of his hand. “And you are?”

  “Oh. Sorry. I’m Peyton. Peyton Gellar.”

  “Please come in.”

  He stepped inside then pulled off his jacket and hung it on the antique hall tree as he always did whenever he visited Jed and Faye. When he glanced up, Aubrey eyed his jacket then narrowed her eyes at him.

  “I’ve been here before to visit your parents. Many times.”

  She studied him a moment more then turned, motioning him to follow.

  “I’m terribly late. I had a flat tire on the interstate, but I left a message for your mother, so I believe she’s expecting me.”

  She stopped and gave him a curious smile. “Wait, are you the preacher?”

  “The pastor. Yes, I am.”

  Her brows arched. “You don’t look like a pastor.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No.” She turned and continued down the hall. “Last time I was in town, the pastor was some old guy.”

  “That would be my predecessor, Dr. McKetchan.”

  “That’s him. Nice man but dry as dust.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  As they entered the living room toward the back of the house, Faye stood to greet him. “Oh Pastor Gellar, it’s so nice of you to come. I see you’ve met my daughter Aubrey?”

  “Yes, I did,” he said, approaching her. He noted that she looked more frazzled than usual—her blonde curls a bit messier, her red glasses smudged and perched crookedly on her nose.

  He gave her a warm hug. “Faye, I am so sorry. I was in Nashville this morning when I got the call that Jed had passed away last night.” He stepped back, reaching for her hands. “It came as such a shock. How are you holding up?”

  “Better now that Aubrey’s home. Please have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.” He sat on a leather love seat opposite the matching sofa where Faye and her daughter sat.

  “Aubrey has a very important job in New York City with lots of responsibility,” Faye stated, “so I was surprised when she was able to come so quickly.”

  “Of course I would come, Mom,” Aubrey said, a hint of defensiveness in her tone as she reached for her mother’s hand. “He was my father. I would never leave you alone at a time like this.”<
br />
  Faye patted their joined hands. “I know, sweetheart.”

  Peyton leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Faye, if you feel up to it, would you tell me what happened?”

  She inhaled slowly then began. “Only that Jed never came to bed last night. He’s always been a night owl, but when I woke up around three this morning and he wasn’t next to me in bed, I just assumed he’d fallen asleep in his recliner there.” She nodded toward the leather recliner that banked the two sofas. A bookmark peeked out from a novel resting on the table beneath a lamp.

  “Jed stays up late reading most nights and often dozes off. But he wasn’t there, though the lamp was still on. Then when I went into the kitchen, there he was on the floor.” She paused as tears filled her eyes. “And I knew he was gone. I didn’t have to check for a pulse, but I did anyway. I knew.”

  Aubrey handed her mother a handkerchief.

  “I’m so sorry, Pastor,” she said, dashing away her tears.

  “No need,” he answered.

  “But even now, I still can’t believe he’s gone. I just expect him to walk in from the backyard or call out, asking what we’d like for dinner.” She dabbed at the corner of each eye as she glanced at the back door. “I suppose I’m still in shock or something.”

  “And that’s to be expected. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you,” Peyton said. “You know I had breakfast with him just yesterday morning at Denton’s.”

  “He always loved meeting you for a bite. He’s very … I mean, he was very fond of you.”

  “And I’ve always had a tremendous respect for him. I loved hearing all his stories from his years as a FedEx pilot. Though I’m sure you know, he was more than happy to retire and move here to Braxton. He loved helping you at the shop, and said it gave him so much joy to see you finally get to do something you truly loved doing.”

  Faye smiled through her tears, wringing the handkerchief in her hands. “Yes, but he poured himself into our little shop as much as I did. He loved it too. Always so patient with me.”