Second Time Sweeter

  “I’m good. Stopped by to find out how the trial went?”

  Paula sighed. “Aunt Della was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to fifteen years. At her age, she’ll probably die there.” The aunt had been charged with the death of her daughter, Lisa.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “So am I. If she’d let me get her a good lawyer, things might have turned out differently.”

  “Did the evidence support the charge?”

  “I suppose. According to Della, Lisa’s death was an accident. She said Lisa and my grandfather got into an argument. He grabbed Lisa. Della tried to separate them, and Lisa fell against the edge of the kitchen table and cracked her skull.”

  “Oh no! Do you believe her?”

  She shrugged. “When my grandfather’s will was read this past summer, Della made it sound like she was more involved than that, but only she and God know the truth. At the trial, the prosecutor asked why they didn’t call 911. She said my grandfather didn’t think the police would believe the story about the death being accidental, so they waited until dark, buried her behind the house, and told everyone Lisa had left town—which we all believed for nearly fifteen years, until her skull was found this summer.”

  “And Robyn? Is she going to be allowed to stay with you?” Robyn was Lisa’s teenage daughter. She’d been a toddler when her mother disappeared.

  “Yes. Her father filed the paperwork giving up his rights, so she’s mine to raise now.”

  Bernadine thought that a good thing.

  “So, now,” Paula said, “how are things here?”

  “Good. We’ll be dedicating the new fire station tomorrow morning, and my friend Tina Craig is in town. She brought the blueprints for the B&B she wants to open.”

  “Great. And Mal?”

  “What about Mal?”

  “Did you reconcile while I was away?”

  “No, and I doubt we will. Not after all that’s happened. He’s back, though. The oil company laid him off.”

  Paula eyed her seriously for a moment and Bernadine tensed, waiting to be lectured to, but instead, the reverend said, “I’m not going to tell you how to handle your business, but if you need to talk, I’m here.”

  “Thanks,” Bernadine replied, and she meant it. “I should get going.” She rose from her chair. “Make sure you check out the coffee shop. The croissants will change your life.”

  “Will do.”

  Pleased that Paula hadn’t pressed her about Mal, Bernadine left the church and continued her walk to the office. On the way, Mal drove past her in his truck and tooted the horn. She didn’t break stride. Watching the truck drive out of sight, she threw an imaginary dart at the imaginary dartboard bearing his face that she carried in her head and wondered how long it would take to get him out of her heart once and for all.

  At the office, she put him out of her mind and stopped by Lily’s office. “What’s on your plate for today, Lil?”

  “Handling last-minute details for the fire station ribbon cutting in the morning,” Lily replied from behind her well-ordered desk. “Other than that, not much. Trent heard back from Marie. She’s okay with Mal taking the job at the school.”

  “Good. As I said before, he needs a job. When do the three of them get back?”

  “Sunday, late. Trent and I will pick them up from the airport.”

  “Okay. Got a text from Gemma last night. She wants to take the kids to Hawaii for Christmas. Can you hook up the plane tickets and the rest?”

  “I’d love to. I’ll call her later and get the dates. Glad she decided to go.”

  Bernadine agreed. Lucas and Jasmine Herman inherited a small fortune from their late parents’ estate, which included time-shares in Orlando and Maui. Gemma, having spent most of her life struggling as a single parent, had been reluctant to tap into their wealth, but Lucas’s insistence on the trip seemingly changed her mind. “I’m going to meet up with Tina for lunch. Until then I’ll be in the office.”

  “Okay.”

  At her desk, Bernadine booted up her laptop and checked her email. Finding nothing that needed her immediate attention, she sent a text to her sister, Diane, to say hello. Their lifelong, ugly relationship had mellowed somewhat since the divorced Diane struck out on her own and moved to Kansas City a few months ago. Bernadine doubted they’d ever be close as sisters were supposed to be, but at least she no longer felt the urge to strangle Diane on sight. Bernadine was in the process of reading Diane’s response when a soft knock on her open door drew her attention away from the phone. The woman standing there wearing a nice dress and heels appeared vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t put a finger on why. “Yes? May I help you?”

  “I don’t know if you remember me, but I met you at Rocky’s wedding. I’m Ruth Smith. I . . . was with Mal July.”

  Bernadine masked her surprise.

  “May I come in?” Ruth asked, her smile hesitant.

  Bernadine sensed her nervousness. Curious as to what she wanted and if drama was involved, she gestured to a chair.

  She sat and looked around. “You have a nice office.”

  “Thank you.”

  As if gathering courage, Ruth drew in a deep breath. “I . . . asked around about you and I’m told you own Henry Adams.”

  “I do.”

  “Must be nice to have enough money to own a whole town.”

  Bernadine didn’t respond.

  “I run the switchboard at the oil company where Mal worked. Before they laid him off,” she added.

  Bernadine asked quietly, “Why are you here?”

  “I’m sorry. I know you’re probably real busy, but I came to ask if you and Mal are back together?”

  That caught Bernadine so off guard it took a second or two to reply. “Why?”

  “He’s not returning my calls or answering my texts.”

  “Ah.” Bernadine drew no satisfaction from the confession but did wonder about Mal distancing himself. Was the relationship done?

  Ruth’s fingers fidgeted with the handbag on her lap. “I know you two were hooked up for some time before we met, so I just wondered if that could be the reason.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Oh. Okay. I think he’s a good man.”

  Bernadine didn’t respond to that, even as she thought back on how she’d thought the same once upon a time. She assumed Mal hadn’t shared the reason for their breakup and she had no intention of doing so, either. “Anything else?”

  Ruth shook her head and stood. “Thank you for your time.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  And she exited.

  Alone again, Bernadine was glad there’d been no drama. In a way she felt sorry for Ruth. It had to have taken a fair amount of courage to show up and ask the question she had, but there was also a hint of desperation. If a man was no longer returning her calls, no way would she come to his former love with questions. But seeing as how every woman dealt with men differently, she threw another imaginary dart at her imaginary Mal July dartboard and returned to her sister’s text.

  Mal was sitting at Clay’s table fuming. “I blew my horn at her and she straight-up ignored me.” That Bernadine hadn’t so much as paused irked him still.

  Clay asked, “Why do you keep trying to talk to her when she’s told you there’s nothing there?”

  “She could at least wave.”

  Clay sighed and shook his head. The doorbell sounded. “Let me get that. It’s probably Ms. Langster.”

  And it was. Clay escorted her in. She was wearing jeans and a nice gray blazer over a white blouse. When she saw Mal, distaste flared on her face for a moment, so he assumed she was mad at him, too. She took the seat Clay offered and set her large handbag on the floor beside her chair. “How are you, Mr. July?”

  “Fine. You?”

  “I’m well, thanks for asking.”

  With that done, she asked, “So, what can I do for you gentlemen?”

  Clay explained the situation. When he finishe
d, she looked between them and asked, “So, this David Dresden disappeared with your money, your cousin’s, and the money Mr. July stole from Ms. Bernadine?”

  Mal snarled silently.

  She apparently sensed his irritation. “I just want to be clear on the story so I can decide whether I’m going to take your case or not.”

  Clay asked, “If you do, what would you charge?”

  “Because I admire Ms. Bernadine, forty dollars an hour, plus expenses.”

  “Forty bucks an hour?” Mal echoed, surprised.

  “My going rate is sixty. You’re getting the town discount.”

  Discount or not, Mal still viewed the quote as steep.

  She continued, “If we sign an agreement to go forward, you need to know that I can’t do anything illegal, like break into his house, go through his bank account without his permission, or search his car. Any of that. This isn’t television.”

  “Then what can you do?” Mal asked, still smarting.

  “I can do my best to find him. If I do, theoretically we might get a lead on the money. I’ll keep a running total of my expenses and report in as often as you’d like.”

  Mal caught Clay’s eye. It was clear that he was concerned about costs, too. At her stated rate, twenty-four hours would cost them almost a grand. He was wondering if he could talk Trent into loaning him the money, when Bing came into the kitchen aided by his cane. He nodded a greeting at Ms. Langster and tossed a wad of cash on the table. “That’s three thousand dollars, little lady, and I have more if you need it. If they don’t want to hire you, I will. If only to stop the drama.” His eyes locked on Mal. “And because Bernadine and the town deserved better.”

  Angry, Mal wanted to snap back, but knew he had no right.

  Bing turned to Clay. “Sign the paperwork, Clayton, so Ms. Langster can get to work finding this crook.” He left the kitchen.

  She pulled out a contract. Clay signed it.

  And that was that.

  But as she prepared to leave, she told Mal in a serious voice, “Mr. July, if I do find Dresden and he still has the money, Mr. Dobbs and his cousin will be in a much better position to reclaim their share than you will.”

  “Why?”

  “They’ll have bank records to support their claims. Your part of the money is tied to theft. You can’t claim stolen funds as your own.”

  Mal felt like he’d been kicked in the chest.

  “Just so you know. I’ll be in touch, gentlemen.”

  And she left.

  Mal sat back and let out a deep sigh. This was getting worse and worse. His phone buzzed. It was a text from Rocky. Ruth Smith waiting for you at the Dog. Been here over an hour.

  He dropped his head. Uttering a soft curse, he stood and said to Clay, “Got something I need to take care of. I’ll call you later.”

  Ignoring Clay’s confusion, Mal picked up his keys and left.

  On the drive back to town, he wondered why Ruth had come to Henry Adams and what she wanted. When he stopped taking her calls, he’d assumed she’d get the message that things were over between them and go on with her life. He wasn’t going to be happy if she hadn’t. Of course, it was possible that she was simply in town visiting a friend and wanted to say hello. Either way, she was not the woman he wanted in his life. Bernadine was; even if she didn’t want the role.

  He entered the Dog to the sounds of Gladys Knight singing “If I Were Your Woman,” and glanced around. The breakfast rush was over. It was too early for lunch, though, so there weren’t many people seated in the place. He spotted Ruth in a back booth. Before he could head that way, Rocky walked up, coffee carafe in hand. “I didn’t know if you wanted to see her or not, but I got the impression that she’d sit and wait until Christmas. Seems like a nice enough woman.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Talk to you later.” She moved on and he set off toward Ruth.

  Crossing the room made the few diners glance up from their plates and follow his progress, but he was getting better at ignoring the side eyes and whispers.

  When he reached her, she smiled. “Hello, Mal. How are you?”

  “Good. You?” Ruth was a pretty woman but not the one for him.

  “I’m okay. I was told you own this place, so thought I’d wait here until you showed up so we could talk. You have a minute to sit?”

  He wanted to lie and say he had somewhere else he needed to be, but the only way to find out why she’d come was to deal with her head-on. So he sat.

  She asked, “Have you eaten?”

  He nodded. “I have. Why’d you stop by?”

  “To find out why you’re ignoring my calls and texts.”

  He sighed inwardly and said gently, “I’m not looking to be in a relationship right now, Ruth. I thought I made that clear the first time we went out.”

  “And then we went out again and again. Five times in the first two weeks, am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And numerous times after.”

  She was correct about that too, but he didn’t say it aloud.

  “So, you understand why I got to thinking this was more than a casual sort of thing, especially when you took me to the wedding.”

  “The wedding was a mistake. The dates were, too. I’m sorry. Honestly—”

  “Honestly, were you using me?”

  Suddenly it was hard to breathe.

  She smiled serenely. “I asked around and was told you stole a large amount of money from this place. Is that true?”

  “Yes, and the oil fields were the fastest way to make restitution.”

  “And if you didn’t want a relationship, what role did I play in this badly conceived drama?”

  At that point, Mal realized Ruth Smith was way more astute than he’d given her credit for, and he wondered if this might be how a male preying mantis felt just before the female bit his head off. “I figured Bernadine wouldn’t want anything to do with me after the theft, and I wanted to show her I could get another lady and I was a bit lonely.”

  “So you were using me. I just talked to Bernadine a little bit ago. I don’t think she wants you back.”

  His eyes widened. No man wanted competing women in his life talking to each other under any circumstances. Ever.

  “Thanks for your honesty,” she continued. “I appreciate it, but I don’t appreciate being used, especially not by a man I had such high hopes for.”

  He offered the only thing he could say. “I’m sorry, Ruth.”

  “Yes, you are, and I’m sorry, too.”

  “That I played you?”

  “For that, yes, and for the visit my brother will be paying you.”

  Mal studied her and chuckled softly. “What? He coming to beat me up?”

  “I’m afraid so, but just enough to teach you a lesson. He won’t kill you or anything. He was a boxer back in the day. Even made the Olympic team as an alternate, and he’s very protective of his big sister, whose feelings you admittedly trifled with.”

  Mal froze and watched, stunned, as she got to her feet.

  “You need to grow up, Malachi July. You’re too old to be stealing from people you claim to love and messing over a woman who could’ve potentially loved you. Thanks for taking the time to speak with me. Good-bye.”

  And she walked to the exit.

  Rocky came to the table. “What’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “She said her brother is coming to whip my ass.”

  “Really? Anybody selling tickets?”

  “I’m serious, Rocky.”

  “So am I. Somebody needs to knock some sense into you.” She picked up Ruth’s coffee cup. “Hmm. Wonder what I should wear?”

  He stared with disbelief. She smiled and left him sitting there.

  Chapter 7

  Gary was packing up to leave the store for the day when his phone rang. Seeing Colleen’s name on the caller ID made him want to ignore it, but he hit answer. “Hey, Colleen. What’s up?”

&
nbsp; “Goodness, Gary, you can’t even say ‘how are you?’”

  He rolled his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

  She gave him a small sound of impatience. “I want to know if I need to bring my own pillows.”

  “For what?”

  “For when I stay with you and the girls next weekend.”

  All kinds of things went through his head. She was the mother of his girls, and by all rights he should be able to put up with her for a few days, but the memory of the pain on Leah’s face pushed all that aside. He’d made a promise. “Sorry. We don’t have room. The packet the committee emailed you has the names and the group rates for the hotels in Franklin.”

  “I’m not staying in a hotel.”

  He didn’t plan to argue with her and so remained silent.

  When he didn’t respond, she asked, “Why should I have to stay at a hotel when I should be able to stay with you and my girls?”

  “I’m sure you and Brad will be more comfortable at a hotel.”

  “He’s not coming. He has to work.”

  He had yet to meet Colleen’s new husband. Gary hadn’t been invited to the wedding, of course. All he knew was that the man owned a landscaping company and was, according to Leah, nice. “Do you want me to make the reservation for you?”

  “No. I want you to allow me to be with my daughters.”

  He held on to his temper. “I’m not saying you can’t see them. I’ve never kept you from them, but you can’t stay with us. There’s no room.”

  “You can sleep on the couch.”

  “Make a reservation at the hotel, Colleen. You can see the girls when you arrive. Is there anything else?”

  She snapped, “Stop being a jerk, Gary!”

  He waited for more berating. Instead, she ended the call, and he quietly said, “Hallelujah.”

  The savory smells of chicken frying hit him as soon he entered the house. It was Leah’s day to cook, and thanks to his uncle Terence’s mentoring, she’d gotten very good. He found her in the kitchen.

  “Smells great in here, Lee.”

  “Hey, Daddy. Thanks.”

  He snagged a drumstick from the done pieces waiting on a plate. “Oh, this is good.”

  She grinned. “I’m so glad Uncle TC taught us to cook. I didn’t think I’d like it at first, but it’s really just science.” She paused to remove the rest of the pieces from the hot oil and placed them on the plate. “You have the mixing of chemicals, their reactions to each other, and the application of heat. Throw in weights, measures, and observation, and it all adds up to elements a scientist deals with all the time.”