by Patti Larsen
Tell your dad I’ll be in touch.
And that was it. I fought the flicker of anger I felt at his text, not sure why it pissed me off as much as it did. Instead of confronting him about it when I had no idea of the context—hey, adulting and not flying off at the handle without all the information necessary, you suck—I tucked my phone into my purse and strode off for Petunia’s. Maybe he was really looking for help and maybe he was being a jerk out of a need to let his own temper out but whatever the reason I wasn’t in the right state of mind to talk to him about it.
Restraint. I was the picture of restraint. Yup.
To my credit I also refrained from marching myself to Olivia’s office to chew her out over how she’d been treating Crew. Nor did I do the same to Geoffrey Jenkins at his accounting firm downtown. I even held back from kicking the rather large pebble that got in my way as I crossed the street to my B&B despite the fact the stupid thing was clearly asking for it and deserved a good toe launch into next weekend. Instead, I went inside with my need to scream and throw things firmly in check and went back to work.
Walking right into the sight and sound of Grace Perkins arguing with Daisy while Jill winced an apology.
***
Chapter Twenty
Grace spun toward me while I entered, looking harried and more than a little upset. “They’ve kicked me out of my room,” she snapped like it was my fault. “They’re taking Lewis’s things!”
Whoops, forgot to mention that to Crew in the kerfuffle this morning. Didn’t need to, apparently, though the fact Jill was here now instead of last night made me wince. Hopefully Crew wouldn’t hold my silence against me or I’d have to stumble through an apology and explanation that likely would just make things worse.
More interesting at the moment than my frustrating lack of ability to do the right thing by him was the fact the two activist leaders had been sharing, had they? I didn’t realize Grace and the dead guy were a couple. Winced as I accepted she’d not only lost her partner in protest but her boyfriend in the process. Funny, but I struggled with empathy regardless. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, meeting Daisy’s eyes, not even remotely sorry, honestly, after the twenty-four hours I’d had.
“You must find me another room,” Grace said like this was my fault. I flashed a scowl at Jill who didn’t comment, going upstairs without another word while a pair of guests passed her, concern on their faces.
Great, just what I needed. Meanwhile, Grace launched into a high-volume rant at Daisy while the happy couple I’d check in earlier scooted out my front door like they dodged a bullet.
Snarl, grumble, argh. “Of course we can accommodate you,” I said, hurrying forward to nod to Daisy then to Grace with about as fake a smile as I could muster. “Right this way.” The last thing I wanted was for the wailing old activist to cause trouble for my guests. And while the house itself was full, I had a couple of days before the wedding, so the annex it was.
“I’ll be needing a room for my friend, as well,” Grace said then, flipping from whining and annoying to commanding nasty in a heartbeat.
She would, would she? “And who would that be?”
“Philip Davis,” she sniffed at me. “Now, my new room? Really, the service in this establishment has been absolutely wretched.”
Teeth grinding together, temper rising yet again, the only thing that kept me from going off? Not the ridiculous belief that the customer was always right. Forget that. I’d booted guests in the past for being rude to Daisy or being generally unpleasant. No, it was the way Fleur emerged from the kitchen, spotted Grace, flinched, then dodged back through the door as if she didn’t want the complaining older woman to see her.
That was enough incentive for me to keep Grace around, like it or not. Because whether Fleur intended my curiosity to flare in that moment or not, she succeeded.
I marched Grace across the back yard to the annex back door and led her inside, hating that the first guest in this amazing space would be someone I’d rather camp on the curb with her heavy luggage and a sayonara sucker wave good riddance. Instead, I found myself leading her down the back hall to one of the smaller rooms, refusing to sully the annex further and tucking her in on the first floor beside the kitchen.
The sound of footfalls and voices silenced any protest she might have offered and I emerged to find Daisy leading Philip into the foyer of my new space. The movers had removed the cardboard protection of my gorgeous floors and his heavy boots left smears of mud on the polished surface. He looked irritated by the whole business and he wasn’t the only one. My poor hardwood. I scowled up at him as I shooed Daisy off, mimicking the crossed arms posture he’d offered me while in his jail cell not so long ago.
“You cause one scrap of trouble in my house and you’ll find your protesting butt bounced onto the street.” I gestured at the staircase on impulse, deciding separating Grace from Philip might be a good idea. “Up.”
Grace emerged from her room to scowl after me but I ignored her, opening one of the upstairs rooms for him before stopping to watch him manhandle his bags inside. He didn’t seem all that appreciative, the jerk.
“I’ll be back with sheets and towels.” The rooms weren’t even made up yet, damn it. “Don’t make a mess. Your stay is temporary.” At least, in my house.
Philip turned his back on me without a word and I left him to his silence, hurrying back across the yard to Petunia’s for supplies. This was a disaster, I realized, as I dug into the linen closet for what I needed. The annex was supposed to be pristine. If anything happened before the wedding, Aundrea would have a stroke.
Breathe, Fee. What was the worst that could happen? Well, a possible murderer who fist fought with my friend was staying there. How about another dead body? Ooh. If he slept on that new mattress without sheets I’d murder him myself.
When I emerged from the second floor closet with an armload of whites, hating the anxiety that buzzed through me over the potential for mess in the annex, I brushed off the young woman who tried to take them from me—hmmm, Chloe? Whatever, I was over it—knowing I wasn’t being kind but unable to muster nice right now. In fact, when I trotted downstairs and spotted Jill and Matt in the foyer, seeing them with their uniforms cluttering my entry and the looks on guest’s faces who emerged from the dining room to such a view? Yeah, lit me up like nothing else.
But I didn’t get to snap at them about tromping their big gun toting selves into my business like they weren’t freaking out my paying customers. Instead, the odd look on Matt’s face when he looked up silenced me, made even more uncomfortable by the awkward smile on Jill’s while she stared at him.
Oh, dear. So Jill had a thing for Matt? I’d seen glimmers of it earlier, the clumsy way she’d been around him at the park, how she’d seemed irritated by his attention to me. But damned if it wasn’t apparent as hell now. Except that Matt wasn’t paying a moment’s notice to her, was he? His big eyes stared right at me, the same crooked smile from yesterday that gave me a bit of a guilty thrill tugging at his lips, one big hand holding out a limp hunk of fabric.
“You forgot this at the park,” he said. “Just returning it.”
Right, the hoodie I’d had tied around my waist. I’d somehow lost it in the kerfuffle, maybe even dropped it when I was zip lining. I finished my descent and accepted it from him, feeling the
tension in the foyer notch upward while silence fell over the three of us, Jill looking at Matt, Mat looking at me and me, well. Me just wanting them both to go away already.
Matt finally cleared his throat. “I guess I should get back.” He tipped his hat to me, totally ignoring Jill before nodding and leaving with a sadly hopeful look on his face. How had I missed it? He hadn’t even been on my radar since I got home to Reading and all of a sudden he was into me? Or, had he been all along and only now that I was thrown into contact with him I was seeing it?
How much else was I missing by being totally clueless about the people around me?
&nbs
p; Jill’s soft sigh caught my attention and I spun on her, horrified. “Jill,” I said, not knowing what else to blurt out though a thousand scenarios unfolded in the heartbeat before her sad expression smoothed out and she grinned like it was no big deal.
“Sorry to intrude like this, Fee,” she said, one hand settling on the handle of what had to be Lewis Brown’s suitcase. “I should get this back to the office. The room’s sealed for now until we can finish looking around, if that’s okay.” She left without another word, her blonde ponytail bouncing over the collar of her uniform shirt while I stood there, mouth gaping with unspoken platitudes, a pile of laundry in my aching arms and regret in my equally sore heart.
Well, damn it.
I trudged across the yard, bypassing Mom and Daisy who let me go with confused looks on their faces. I’d deal with the explanation for both of them later. For now, I had beds to make up and no way was I using the new sheets and towels I’d bought for next door on the likes of Grace and Philip. They were lucky I had questions to ask them or they’d be sleeping in the yard.
Grace waited in the hallway like I was some kind of servant as I made up her bed, the entirety of our conversation her grunting at me like I’d barely fulfilled her expectations before she slammed the door in my face. She better not have damaged the wood or she’d be paying for it.
When I climbed the stairs to Philip’s room, I paused outside his closed door at the sound of his voice speaking low but clearly upset. Now, it’s not that I was in the habit of eavesdropping on my guests—I said my guests. I’m well aware I’m a snoop otherwise—but his situation wasn’t exactly typical so I wasn’t feeling particularly guilty when I paused at the keyhole to listen.
“—not my fault he’s dead,” he snarled. He had to be on the phone because I didn’t hear the response despite the fact he paused then spoke a moment later. “How should I know? Don’t blame me. I’m here doing my damned job, the job you hired me to do.” Well now, wasn’t that interesting? What job was he referring to? He must have drifted closer to the door because I could now hear faint yelling, as if whoever he spoke to had reached sufficient volume their tone (if not their words) were audible. “I have it under control. Yes, I’ll handle it.” Another pause. “Seriously, this is good for us. Trust me.”
Whoever it was finished their conversation abruptly because he swore softly. I straightened just as the door whooshed open, Philip staring down at me in surprise to find me there. It took a moment of both of us standing very still, shock wearing to anger on his face, my instinctual guilt over getting caught spinning into my own version of temper, before he grabbed the sheets and towels from my hands and slammed the door in my face much as Grace had.
Seriously. Neither of them had any respect for wood.
***
Chapter Twenty One
I was at the back door when I heard Philip leave and immediately turned to retrace my steps. Grace poked her nose out but retreated instantly while I returned upstairs. Hey, I had to make the bed, right? No way he was ruining my new mattress. Of course, the chance to poke around a bit? Hard to pass up.
My luck he hadn’t unpacked at all and there was nothing to see, really. I knew better than to be so blatant as to go through his things, though by the time I was done making the bed and setting up the towels in the bathroom the temptation to rifle through his suitcase was so powerful I was shaking. Instead, I forced myself to leave the bedroom and lock the door firmly behind me, proud of myself for doing the right thing while my inner snoop sulked in the corner.
When I finally emerged from the annex, heading back to Petunia’s with a serious case of frustration and the need to upend everything that happened on Mom or Daisy or both before I exploded, I practically stumbled on Grace. She sat on the back step, weeping softly, rocking as she hugged herself in the morning sunlight.
Now, I’m not made of stone, nor am I one to hold grudges when emotions are involved. Sure, I have a bad temper and if you piss me off I can have a bit of a meltdown. But seeing her sitting there, crying, hit all the feels I wished they hadn’t, triggering the memory that not so long ago the man she’d been sharing a room with died tragically at the hands of someone who murdered him.
I sat slowly next to her, not touching her—my empathy only went so far—and not saying anything, just offering her companionship while she grieved. Grace wiped at her face before blinking at me, a sad smile erasing the last of her arrogance and showing me the sorrowful woman beneath. She wasn’t traditionally attractive, not that those kinds of things mattered, but in that moment she seemed lovely to me and I softened the rest of the way while she sadly patted my hand.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, still choked up. “How I treated you, dear. So terrible of me. It’s just been such a shock.”
I nodded, squeezed her hand back. “Can I offer you tea?”
Grace’s eyes filled with tears again. “Thank you, that would be lovely.”
I seated her at one of the garden tables and hurried back to Petunia’s. Mom’s arched eyebrows at my request was her only response, though I was positive she had a million questions. Instead of filling her in just yet, I relieved her of the tea service she prepared, Clara already gone, apparently, leaving this job to Mom—and hurried back to Grace, hoping the old woman hadn’t recovered from her weeping fit just yet.
Oh, Fee. You’re a horrible, horrible person.
Fortunately or not, depending on your point of view, Grace was still in the throes of misery when I rejoined her. I offered some tissues I’d nabbed from the kitchen on my way out before serving tea, two lumps of sugar and a dollop of cream satisfying her while she spoke.
“He was such a lovely, passionate person,” she gushed, helping herself to two cookies in quick succession, the crumbs cascading into her lap though she didn’t seem to notice. I rested my chin on my folded hands and nodded encouragement for her to go on. “So driven by his beliefs and so committed to the cause.” She exhaled a few bits of confection, the particles landing in her tea as she slurped up a mouthful. China rattled when she settled the cup into the saucer. “His death is a huge loss to the community.” Her lower lip trembled. “However will we go on without him?”
“You were together a long time?” I pushed the cookies toward her and watched her devour a third in two bites, followed by a long swig of tea I topped up without a word as she blushed a bit, though with a faintly naughty expression that added youth to her face.
“Well, I’m just old, dear, not dead.” She sighed then, fourth cookie limp in her fingers before she jammed it into her mouth and chewed absently. “I stood by his side for years. I just can’t believe it ended this way.” She sobbed once, spilling tea down the front of her vest. For the first time I felt actual guilt over my attitude and helped her dab at the moisture with a handful of napkins before she caught my wrist and stared into my eyes, hers full of grief. “I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do without him,” she said, voice shaking. “He was everything to me. And our dream… I’m so worried it dies with him.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to keep going,” I said. “There are new, young voices that want to help, right? Like Philip?”
Grace shook her head, looked down at the napkins crushed into a wad in her lap, fingering a fresh, dirty tear in the corner of one of the pockets of her khaki vest like picking at a scab. “I fear the protesting youth don’t have the kind of fire that men like Lewis possess,” she said. “I wish I knew more about that young man. But he was a friend of Lewis’s, so I trust him to carry on, I suppose.” She choked again, the napkins now pressed grotesquely to her mouth, the clump so big the white ends trailed out between her fingers like the legs of a bloated bug she squashed without mercy. “I’ve been at Lewis’s side for every single protest, sick and healthy, rain and shine, for the last fifteen years.” Her hand fell once again, the muffled words clear with the motion. “Everything I knew and believed and loved is gone.”
I patted her hand, offering her an
other cookie which she accepted. I should have brought more, apparently. “What made you think there were woodpeckers, Grace?”
She shrugged that off, looked suddenly uncomfortable. “That was Lewis’s department.”
Okay then. “There seemed to be a lot of media,” I said. “Does that happen at every protest?”
She nodded then with renewed enthusiasm. “Oh, yes,” she gushed. “The media love Lewis.” Her face crumbled then, as if she understood she used present tense when past was now appropriate.
“Are they usually supportive?” I hesitated before blurting the rest. “Like Fleur King, for example?”
Everything in Grace shifted. Her grief dried up in a heartbeat, the softer side of her vanishing like it had never been even as she threw down the wad of napkins on the ground and pushed herself to her sturdy feet, the heels of her heavy shoes digging into the soft ground of the garden beneath her.
“That horrible creature,” she snapped. “Maybe your sheriff should investigate her for Lewis’s murder.”
And before I could stop her and ask her what she was talking about, get any information from her about Fleur’s investigation, Grace spun and stomped off. And didn’t she slam the back door to the annex?
Jared was right about the added expense being worth it in the end when he made the suggestion for the hardware. I’d be springing for soft hinges after all. Meanwhile, it was time for some serious investigation into this mess on my own.
***
Chapter Twenty Two
As it turned out there was no time for an internet search. From the moment I returned to Petunia’s until dinner service ended it seemed like there was one fire to put out after another, from a freak plumbing issue in room nine to failure of delivery of our bread order from French’s Handmade Bakery I had to handle personally to a misplaced reservation that left me pulling my hair out until Jill and Robert finally finished their examination of Lewis’s room. Not to mention Clara’s unexpected decision to back out entirely with a simple, “I quit,” phone call leaving me growling.