Authors: Earlene Fowler
I looked over at Gabe, who by this time wasn’t holding back the grin that had started in his eyes and worked down to his mouth. I gave him a hard look. This might be funny to him, but apparently he had missed the part where Dove said she was staying here until Garnet apologized. There was one thing he didn’t realize about Dove and her sister—neither one of them apologized. Ever. For anything. Before I could answer, Sam and Rita came in.
“Who’s crazy?” Sam asked. He looked over at Dove with interest, flashing his most endearing smile. “Not this lovely lady, I’m sure.”
Dove smiled back at Sam. “You must be Gabe’s son. I heard you was here visiting. My, you are a fine-looking young man.”
He bowed slightly. “Thank you, ma’am. I owe everything I am to my gracious and beautiful mother and upright and hardworking father.”
Dove looked at me and winked. “He’s certainly the little charmer, isn’t he?” She glanced over at Rita. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here? That nasty ole cowboy finally get fed up with you?”
Rita tossed her head and sniffed daintily. “I left
him
. As a matter of fact, Ash took me to see a lawyer today who told me it was definitely a case of irresponsible differences.”
“He got that right,” Dove said with a harsh cackle. Gabe turned his head, trying to hold back his laughter. I didn’t even try to stifle the laugh gurgling up from my chest. You had to love Rita. Sometimes she could drive a post into the ground with one swing.
Rita turned and glared at me. “It’s not funny. I wish everyone would realize I’m in real pain here.” She pushed past us and ran to the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
“I’ll go talk to her,” Dove said, picking up her large flowered suitcase. “We’re going to be bunking together anyway, so I may as well get her feathers smoothed down.”
“Wait a minute, we need to talk about this thing between you and Garnet. What exactly—”
Dove patted my shoulder as she passed me. “It’s gettin’ late, honeybun, and I’m tired. Breakfast is at seven-thirty.”
Before I could protest, she disappeared into the guest room. I looked at Gabe, who was still grinning.
“You won’t be so happy when there’s no hot water for your shower.”
He laughed. “I’ll use the showers at the station.”
“Speaking of showers,” Sam said, not looking at his father. “I think I’ll take one right now.” He breezed past us and claimed the bathroom. Gabe stared after him a moment before turning to me.
“Alone at last,” he said, downing the rest of his Coke. “Is there anything to eat? And where have you been? You usually leave a note.”
“And you usually call,” I answered, snatching the empty Coke bottle out of his hand and heading for the kitchen.
He followed after me. “Sorry, we got so involved . . . why are you mad?”
I tossed the bottle in the trash and started putting dishes in the dishwasher. “Sam cooked you dinner. We waited, and you never showed up. That short and sweet enough for you, Friday?”
“Look, I just wasn’t ready—”
“To be decent to your son,” I finished.
“No,” he replied. He paused for a moment, and I could tell he was picking his words very deliberately. “Benni, I’m really sorry you have to be caught in the middle of this thing between me and Sam. As I told you before, there’s a lot about him you don’t know. It’s not your fault. Everyone falls in love with him.
At first
. You think I haven’t been taken in a million times by that smile of his? Lydia and I both have, especially after the divorce. She and I have discussed this many times, and we both agree that
we
caused a lot of his manipulating personality. Hopefully it’s not too late to try and correct some of our mistakes. I want him to become a self-sufficient adult who doesn’t try to just get by scamming off friends and family.”
I looked down at the ground guiltily.
He groaned softly and took my hands in his. “You gave him money, didn’t you?”
“He didn’t ask,” I said defensively. “I offered.”
He squeezed my hands, his face sad. “Sweetheart, he never asks. That’s how good he is.
That’s
what I want to try and change before it’s too late. I want him to become a responsible member of society, not a leech.”
“At the cost of your relationship?”
“Even at the cost of that. My responsibility as a parent to raise a child who can fit into our society is more important than having a child who thinks I’m the most wonderful person in the world.”
Can’t you have both? I wanted to ask but held back. Who was I to ask that question? I’d never even had children. He pulled me into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled into his chest. “I just wish it was better between you two. You never know when . . .” I trailed off. His arms tightened around me, and I felt him rub his face across the top of my head. I knew we were both thinking about Aaron and I worried again about Gabe essentially ignoring the fact that his best friend had just died. Was his anger at Sam a reaction to that? I knew that was how some people reacted to death—push away everyone you care about with the irrational thought process that if you don’t get close to anyone, then you can’t be hurt when they’re taken away. “Gabe—” I started.
He let go of me and opened the refrigerator. “Can we discuss this another time? I’m hungry and tired and would honestly rather talk about anything but my problems with Sam.”
“Okay,” I said, watching him take out the leftover chicken and rice. “While you eat, I have some stuff to tell you about Nora’s case.” I filled him in on what I learned from both Nick and Will Henry. “So, why didn’t you tell me Nora inherited Bonita Peak and the land surrounding it?”
“I only found out about it this morning. You and I haven’t really had a chance to talk, have we?” He scooped chicken and rice onto his plate, then put it in the microwave.
I considered his answer, still not satisfied. “Were you going to tell me?”
He hesitated just a moment too long.
“Gabe! Don’t you think that’s something I should know? I am working with these people.”
“That’s exactly my problem. I’m going to ask you just to trust me on this. I’ll tell you as much as I think you need to know to be safe.”
“At first I thought you were right, that it would be better if I didn’t know anything. But I’ve changed my mind. I think now that the more I know, the safer I’ll be.”
“I don’t agree,” he said, taking the steaming food over to the table.
“Why not?”
“The more you know, the chances are greater you might accidentally, verbally or nonverbally, let something out, and that could put you or others in danger.” He sat down and started eating. “I think we both agree that you do not possess the most poker face in the world.”
“I resent that. I can keep a secret just as well as you.”
“If you were hurt in any way because of my job, I’d never forgive myself. Aside from that, I also took an oath when I became a police officer. I am entrusted with public safety, and that requires me to make the decisions I think most prudent at the time. Sometimes I err on the side of caution, but that’s just how I am.” His eyes softened. “I know this has been hard for you, being thrown into being a cop’s wife without knowing what it would be like. But you can’t compare our relationship to what you had with Jack. He might have told you everything, but running a family ranch is vastly different than policing a city.”
I didn’t answer for a moment. He was right; I was used to a different type of relationship, one where there weren’t any secrets, professional or personal. And logically what he said about public safety and his responsibility made sense. So why did it still make me so mad?
“Look,” he said. “Haven’t I been a little better about being open about my feelings and talking to you about my job?”
“On some things,” I admitted reluctantly. “But I wasn’t involved with those cases.”
“My point exactly.
Querida,
give me a break.” He reached over and stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“I know.” I grabbed his hand, suddenly tired of all these conflicting emotions. Right here, right now, I loved him, and he loved me. Let the rest take care of itself.
Later in bed, my troubling thoughts kept me wide awake, staring at the strips of moonlight painting the ceiling. “Gabe, are you asleep?”
“Mmm,” he replied.
“We didn’t talk about what Will Henry told me. About Nora being the Tattler. Did you know that?”
“Um-hm,” he said.
“You did? How?”
“Informant.”
“An informant? Where? At the
Freedom Press
?”
“Yes.”
“Gabe, were you—” I stopped myself from asking if he was going to tell me. It was too late to get into another argument. An informant at the paper—was it somebody I knew? I fell into a fitful sleep, all the suspects twirling around in my dreams in a tiny colorful cyclone.
Singing woke me the next morning. Something about a pretty woman walking down a street.
“Gabe,” I moaned, folding my pillow over my ear. “You forgot to turn off the alarm.”
The voice became louder. The tangy scent of Aramis aftershave tingled in my nose. Pretty woman . . . he sang into the pillow.
I opened my eyes and stared into his. “What are
you
so cheerful about this morning?”
He straightened up and started tying his tie. “It’s a beautiful day and I’m happy to be waking up with the woman I love at my side.”
“Seriously.”
“Seriously, there’s every reason I shouldn’t be in a good mood with what’s waiting for me at the office, but I am.” He leaned over and kissed my nose. “Take advantage of it.”
“Okay, who’s the informant at the
Freedom Press
?”
He checked his tie in our full-length mirror, then turned to me. “Sorry, next question.”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
He just grinned and said, “You’d better get moving. It’s seven-thirty.”
“I don’t have to be at the museum until ten.”
At that moment the scent of bacon frying and the clatter of pans filtered through our bedroom door. I groaned and fell back into the pillows. “Dove. I forgot about her. I can’t believe this is happening to me.”
“I’d give you some sympathy, but I’m fresh out.” He pulled his suit coat out of the closet. “See you in five minutes.”
I pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt and made tracks for the kitchen. Dove was serving up grits when I sat down.
“You’re late,” she said, peering up at my plastic kitchen clock.
“That clock’s five minutes fast,” I mumbled, looking around the pine kitchen table. Sam and Rita’s chairs were empty. “Where’s the rest of the crew?” I dished up some grits, doctored them with salt and butter, and reached for the scrambled eggs.
Dove laid a plate of crisp bacon in front of me and a bowl of oatmeal with fresh strawberries in front of Gabe. “Rita get up before ten o’clock?” Dove waved her metal spatula in the direction of the guest room. “She’s just like her mother. Those Caldicotts always did think God made the sun raise and fall just so they’d know when to get up and go shopping.”
Gabe looked at me and winked. “Where’s Sam?” I asked. Gabe’s face turned sober as he picked up one of Dove’s huge baking-powder biscuits. He passed the plate to me.
“Left early,” Dove said, sitting down next to Gabe, a big smile on her face. “Said he had to catch the early waves down by Morro Rock. Apparently he heard through the grapevine that all the chicks surf the north side of the rock.” She cackled. “My, he’s a nice young man. Helped me pound out the dough for my biscuits early this morning. Has a marvelous singing voice. I’m going to try to get him to join the church choir.”
“He won’t be here long enough for that,” Gabe said succinctly.
Dove raised her eyebrows and didn’t comment. “What’re you doing today, honeybun?”
I bit into a thickly buttered biscuit and chewed before answering. “Going to clean up some last details about the festival. Give the museum one last going over. And I’m having lunch with Elvia and her mom.”
“How is Sofia? That heart spell must have ’bout scared her to pieces.”
“Doing great, Elvia says. Doctor says it was just stress. Elvia and the brothers are thinking about buying her a treadmill, but they’re sure she won’t use it. Rafael and Brenda just got back from Hawaii and brought her some fresh pineapple, so she’s making
atole
.”
Gabe’s eyes brightened. “My grandmother used to make that whenever we visited her in Mexico. Bring me some, okay?”
“Sure.” I turned back to Dove. “Now, about you and Garnet . . .”
Dove picked up her plate and stood up. “I don’t want to discuss that scarlet woman.
If
she has the nerve to call, just tell her I said Matthew 7:23.” She tossed her plate in the sink. “I cooked, y’all can clean up. I have a Historical Society meeting this morning.” She stomped out of the room.
Gabe looked at me in confusion. “Got a Bible handy?”
I sighed. “I don’t need one. She and Garnet have bandied that verse back and forth for as long as I can remember: ‘Then I will tell them plainly, I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers.’ ”
Gabe gave a delighted laugh and started clearing the table. “That’s great.”
“Yeah, well, let’s see how funny you think it is when Dove is still here two weeks from now.”
He gave me a serious look as he stacked dishes in the dishwasher. “Two weeks from now this house better be occupied by only two people.”
“Gee,” I replied. “I wonder where we’re going to live.”
When I arrived at the museum, it became immediately apparent that tempers and nerves were running short. Nora’s murder had added a ribbon of tension to the festivities. Inside the museum our head docent, Mildred Posner, was training a group of five senior citizens.
“Here’s our illustrious leader now,” Mildred said. “I was just telling them about the first murder you solved during the antique-quilt exhibit last November.” Dark eyes sparkled mischievously behind her thick glasses.
“Mildred,” I said, “that’s
not
supposed to be a part of the tour.”
“I know, but you have to admit it gives the place ambience.”