Sometimes close friends were like slipping with the saltshaker while making caramel—a real pain. Ada was scaring Willow.
Willow shook her head. “Sinister happiness? That’s a new one.” As she took another sip, she was puzzled by Shane’s behavior. She’d made it clear they were just friends.
Ada leaned forward. “Just be careful, okay?”
“Sure. And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll call you when I get back from Shane’s.” Jack had taught Willow to always have backup. “And tell you all about it. If you don’t hear from me by midnight, call me.”
Ada nodded. “And if you’re having such a good time you don’t answer?”
“Call back. If I still don’t answer, I give you permission to charge into Shane’s and haul me out of there. Or call the cops.”
Ada shook her head and grinned. She obviously thought Willow was just teasing.
“Seriously,” Willow said.
“Okay. Deal. But I think you should be cautious around both him and Con.”
“Oh no! Not you, too? You can’t condemn Con based on rumors. Aldo says he’s the real deal and so does his nonna. And no one doubts his nonna.” She mimicked Aldo and laughed. “Don’t forget my fabulous sleuthing, either. I did a thorough online search on him. I didn’t find a bit of evidence of anything criminal, immoral, unethical, or even fattening.”
“You can’t believe everything you read online,” Ada pleaded with her.
Willow gave up. She needed to confide in someone. She wanted someone to understand about Jack. She needed an ally, even if what she was about to do was reckless. Especially given how gossip seemed to funnel through Orchard Bluff Store.
“I can’t help liking Con. He reminds me of Jack. Hang on,” Willow said. “I want to show you something. Maybe then you’ll understand.” She set her coffee down, popped up, and went to her locked supply drawer where she kept receipts and other important papers for the shop.
She pulled Jack’s picture from beneath a stack of papers and carried it to the table, set it down, and slid it over for Ada to see. “I’ve never shown this to anyone here. I know people think it’s odd I don’t have his picture on display.” She was just obeying Agency orders. “It’s hard to explain why.” She shrugged. No one would believe her anyway. “Everyone grieves differently. I’m trying to move forward with life. I can’t if I’m reminded of him every day.”
It was as good an explanation as any.
She watched Ada study the picture, waiting for an exclamation of recognition.
Finally, Ada smiled and pushed the picture back across the table to her. Her eyes sparkled and she appeared to be touched by Willow’s gesture. “Jack was an attractive man. I can see why you miss him. How does Con remind you of him?”
Willow couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She sputtered for a minute before coming up with a response. “What do you mean, how does Con remind me of him? Isn’t the similarity obvious?” Drew and Staci had seen it immediately.
Ada grabbed the picture back and studied it again. “They have similar coloring. I can see that. And maybe something about the eyes. But you must be reacting to their personalities. Because, no, really, except for a passing similarity, I don’t think they look at all alike.”
“B-b-but…,” Willow stammered. “They’re practically twins. Take a closer look.” She pointed at the picture.
Ada obliged her, studying and frowning. “Nope. Nothing.” She looked up at Willow. “If anything, Con looks more like Aldo than your Jack. Huh, maybe they are cousins after all.”
* * *
Willow couldn’t get Ada’s words out of her head as she mechanically went through her afternoon. How could Ada not see the striking resemblance? It was so blatantly obvious. Willow felt as if she were living in the Twilight Zone. She half-expected Rod Serling to appear at any minute to explain what was going on. Like maybe an alien had body-snatched Ada.
Could Willow have been mistaken? Was she being so stubbornly optimistic and hopeful that she’d deluded herself into believing Con was Jack because she wanted him to be?
As Willow stood in front of her mirror, brushing her hair and getting ready for her visit with Shane, she almost chickened out, almost decided it was a pointless mission. If Con wasn’t Jack, Shane wasn’t a person of interest to anyone, certainly not her. Not with Con around.
For her evening with Shane, she was going for the opposite look she used when she was trying to seduce Con. She was going barefaced for the fresh, innocent look, with just a hint of mascara and a dash of light-pink lip gloss. She applied the gloss and frowned at her reflection. Did she look too feral? Like a woman on the hunt?
She hated all these doubts. And she really hated the evil woman she’d become. She’d spent an hour making Shane a special four-piece box of his favorite chocolate-covered lavender caramels—laced with a strong dose of the most powerful over-the-counter antihistamine on the market.
She wasn’t taking any chances. She’d learned one thing from Jack and his spy friends Kyle and Drew—when entering a dangerous, clandestine environment, always, always, always stack the deck in your favor. And that’s all she’d done, really, just dosed Shane’s caramels with a little something to make him drowsy, a little chemical something.
Yes, she was all for all-natural and dead set against chemical additions, but she really couldn’t help herself this time.
It was just too bad it had taken her so long to get the recipe just right. Those silly antihistamine pills were bright pink on the outside. But, fortunately, white on the inside. She’d had to crush and strain them to get rid of the bright-pink coating. Then add extra sugar to cover the bitter taste, which messed with her recipe. So she’d had to add extra salt so the caramel wasn’t too sweet. Which would seem like an oxymoron to the uninitiated caramel lover.
Adding chemicals to her organic, all-natural caramel seemed like a crime against nature. And to make matters worse, she had a bottle of apple wine to accompany it. Wine was supposed to increase the soporific effects of the antihistamine. Oh, really bad her, she’d looked up how to make it even more potent.
And now she was even beginning to think like a criminal. She had put one untainted caramel in the box in case Shane offered her one. She’d marked it subtly with a little flourish of chocolate on top. And she had an untainted box of caramels in her big purse that she was going to swap for any leftovers of the drugged stuff as soon as Shane was out.
And even more heinous her, while Shane boasted about his tolerance for alcohol and resistance to most drugs, she knew his Achilles’ heel. He was particularly sensitive to the drowsy effects of plain old antihistamines. Just two weeks ago, he’d complained to her about his allergies and how he couldn’t take the most effective antihistamine because it made him way too sleepy to drive or operate the farm equipment.
So, yes, she was bad to the bone for what she was about to do.
And not as confident as she’d originally been. She was so insecure, she’d nearly broken down and shown Jack’s picture to Shiloh when she’d come in for her shift. Just to get her reaction and see whether she couldn’t see the resemblance, either. Maybe only people who had known Jack well could see it? Only remembering Emmett’s firm warning stopped her. She’d already screwed up once today and look what that had gotten her! More doubt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Willow curled up on Shane’s ratty old sofa next to him, shoes off, feet bare, legs tucked beneath her, with a glass of the wine she’d brought in one hand. She was on high alert for any signs Shane was going to make a move on her as she listened to him drone on about his late lost love and pry her for details about Jack.
“Crystal had the cutest little birthmark on her neck. Right here.” Shane touched Willow’s neck just above the hollow of her throat.
She fought a wave of revulsion. The look he gave her, she couldn’t explain it, but if he’d been a vampire searching for her jugular that look and touch wouldn’t have creeped her out more. It
wasn’t the first time during the evening she’d debated the wisdom of coming here. If she hadn’t been so desperate to out Jack as himself, she’d have grabbed her purse and run.
“Did Jack have anything like that? Any identifying mark that if you saw it, you’d know it was him right away? Something that took your breath away because it was so uniquely Jack?” He took a drink from his second glass of wine.
Good. Drink, drink. The more alcohol he had, the more effective that antihistamine was going to be.
“Yes,” she said. “He had the cutest cowlick just here.” She reached over and stroked Shane’s head, indicating the spot and making a note to remember it. Because, of course, she was lying. Jack didn’t have a cowlick. But the Agency had warned her well and good. She never gave out intel about Jack, not to anyone. Least of all to a man she was suspicious about.
A bag of chips and a bowl of dip sat on the coffee table in front of them, untouched.
Shane indicated it. “Have some chips and dip. I made the dip myself. From a mix.” He laughed.
The last thing she intended to do was eat anything she hadn’t brought herself. For one thing, she’d seen the unsanitary condition of his kitchen. And for another, Jack had always told her that when you’re on a spy mission you don’t trust the food of the enemy. Wise counsel. It could be poisoned.
“It looks delicious. Maybe later. First, I’ve brought you something sweet.” She popped up to get it, watching him over her shoulder as he finished the glass of wine and she set hers on the table.
Yes, she was an evil woman, sympathizing with him about his grief and plying him with alcohol so the antihistamine would work to maximum effect. She wanted him dozing soundly so she could snoop. She just hoped that if he was indeed an enemy agent, he hadn’t planted surveillance cameras all over the place.
A fire crackled in the old fireplace and, although it should have made the room seem homey, did little to mask the sense of gloom in the house.
She went to her purse, which she’d dumped on a nearby chair, and pulled the box of doctored caramels out.
“For you.” She held the gold foil box wrapped with a lavender ribbon out to him, poised on her fingers like the apple the witch had offered Snow White. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so obvious when offering her poison? “A get well gift. Chocolate and caramel never fail to make a person feel better. I made them specially for you.”
Not in a dark dungeon, like Snow White’s witch, but concocting poisonous treats is an evil business, even if done in a candy kitchen for the good of Willow’s marriage and possibly the world.
Shane didn’t seem to notice either her deceptive, too-sweet nature or her nerves as he took the box from her outstretched hand. “Specially for me, huh?”
He pulled off the ribbon and then the lid of the box. “Are these what I think they are?”
NCS chief Emmett Nelson had always told Jack and his buddies that the most convincing way to lie was to tell as much truth as possible. Wedge the lie in the middle, where it would go unseen.
Following that advice, she nodded and smiled as she picked up her wineglass and sat down. “I made them this afternoon. I’ve been fiddling with the recipe and wanted your opinion on the new blend.”
She wanted to know whether the antihistamine flavor was too strong and would kill the market for this new knock him out flavor. Not that she had any intention of selling them. Not unless she got her pharmacy license. Though she did have a great name for them—KOs.
Shane waved his hand over them as if wafting their scent toward him and took a long, big sniff, acting as serious as if he were judging the world chocolate contest.
Willow held her breath. Just how sensitive was his nose? Was he like Jack, who could sniff out an explosive or foreign chemical from ten feet away?
She felt a sudden chill creep down her spine as she realized her own stupidity. If he was a foe of Jack’s, of course he’d be able to sniff out the allergy meds in the candy. Not that they were particularly aromatic, to her nose they didn’t smell at all, but she’d seen Jack sniff out things she couldn’t smell for the life of her. He had the fine nose sensibilities of a chemical bloodhound.
She fought hard not to cross her fingers in front of Shane. With Jack potentially back in her life, everything had taken on a sinister nature again. But not all spies had Jack’s nose for chemicals, right? She couldn’t remember Drew having the same knack. At least not to the same degree.
“Ah … deep, dark chocolate. Lavender.” Shane smiled at her. “Am I missing anything?”
She almost relaxed. “No, I think you got it all. Excellent.”
Shane, with his dimples and blond growth of five o’clock shadow, should have been appealing to the point of irresistible. Lettie would have been all over him. But Willow felt a shiver of revulsion. She hid her feelings by taking a sip of wine, hoping it would mellow her fear and make her relax.
She felt a deep sense of foreboding, but she’d felt that since the anniversary of Jack’s death, so it was no help to her now. She was on her own.
Shane, however, didn’t stop playing his chocolate connoisseur game. He kept wafting and sniffing as she held her breath.
Finally, he smiled. “Liar!”
She jumped, nearly spilling her wine.
“You’ve added more salt.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. He was exactly right. How could he tell by simply smelling? He did have Jack’s talented nose. She’d been totally reckless. And yet, either Shane was toying with her or she’d gotten away with her deception.
She forced herself to keep smiling. “You really are good!”
Whether he smelled the chemical addition or not, he had a dangerous talent. She had to proceed carefully.
“I’m experimenting with making lavender sea salt caramels. You picked up the extra salt.” She let her surprise show and lowered her voice, hoping to keep him distracted until she drugged him. “You have a talented nose.”
He smiled and leaned close to her. “The best.”
Not quite. Or you would have picked up the antihistamine. Jack would have. Or maybe you have and you’re toying with me.
“We’ll have to convince you to come back next year and judge the apple pie contest.”
“I’d be up for it.” He leaned back and spun the box around 180 degrees in his hand with a flourish so that the doped caramels ended up closest to her. He offered the box to her. “Ladies first.”
Jack would have cursed at Shane’s table-turning chocolate box maneuver. She had made sure to hand the box to him so that the untainted caramel should have been nearest her. Willow tried not to bite her lip and give away that she was nervous.
Think like a spy.
It would be impolite and out of character for her to reach across the box and take the caramel farthest from her. An enemy agent would notice her deliberate move and get suspicious. She had to act naturally.
She took the box from his hand, studied it, gave it a gentle half turn as she pretended to make up her mind about which piece of candy to take, and held the box back out to him. “Oh, I couldn’t. I made them for you. You have to choose first.” Again, nothing but the truth there.
She’d handed him the box in such a way that the drug-free caramel would be near her. She had to protest once more, just to keep up the ruse, but she hoped he still insisted she take the first piece.
“No, seriously. You first. My mama taught me manners. She’d have my head if I didn’t treat you like a lady.” He spun the box around again.
She smiled and took a drugged caramel. She waited while he selected a candy, fortunately a drugged one, then set the box down.
Her heart hammered in her chest like one of Shane’s dogs begging to get out the door. The dogs lay, heads on their paws, at Shane’s feet by the sofa, mournfully looking up but refusing to beg for a treat. Shane had them well trained.
“To death by heavenly chocolate and caramel!” Shane raised his caramel almost as a toast and laughe
d.
At his words, she nearly dropped her caramel, recovering just at the last second to raise it to her lips. She’d put enough allergy medicine in it to put down an elephant. There’s no way she wanted to take a bite.
But there was nothing for it. She held her caramel up to her lips to bite and “slipped,” dropping it from her fingers.
The candy fell on the floor. Buddy dove for it and licked it up. She and Shane reached for Buddy, each in a fury to stop him from swallowing it.
She watched in horror as Buddy chomped and caramel-tinged saliva rolled down his doggie cheeks.
Shane got to him first. “Drop it!”
Buddy stared at him, looking innocent.
“I said, drop it!”
Buddy barked twice and wagged his tail. His mouth was empty.
“I’m so sorry!” Willow looked on in horror. What had she just done to Shane’s dog? “That’s dark chocolate he’s just eaten. It’s almost as bad for a dog as pure cocoa. He’ll be sick. We have to take him to the vet.”
Shane set his caramel down and shook his head, looking as if the last thing he wanted was to make a run to the vet. “Bud’s a big dog, aren’t you, boy?” He rubbed the dog’s jowls and scratched him beneath his chin. “There wasn’t enough chocolate to make a dog his size sick enough to worry about. He’ll be fine.”
Shane gave Buddy the evil eye. “I just hope he doesn’t get a taste for chocolate. If he does, he’s no good to me.”
Something about his tone sent a shiver down her back. He meant it. And a dog who was no good to him—what did he do with such an animal?
“But, really, Shane, I think we should—”
Shane cut her off with a look.
She felt awful, absolutely horrible. She didn’t believe Shane. She’d put an extra-thick coating of chocolate on those caramels to disguise the taste of antihistamine. And she’d used 70 percent cacao chocolate. The higher the cacao content, the more dangerous it was for dogs. What if poor Buddy got sick?