His First and Last (Ardent Springs #1) (33 page)

There on the second line was a message from the last person she’d expected. And above it, a subject line revealing a plane ticket confirmation. It looked like Lorelei would be heading back to the airport.

Spencer was supposed to work the Ruby Restoration booth again on Sunday, but he’d called Buford to let him know he wasn’t coming. Though he wasn’t the type of man to wallow in self-pity or hide from his mistakes, the thought of leaving his apartment made him want to get in his truck, point it toward the state line, and never look back.

Champ never left his side, the animal sensing that his master was injured, even if the wound wasn’t visible on the outside. Spencer didn’t eat. He didn’t shower. To keep his mind occupied, he tried working on the paper that was due on Tuesday, but after reading the same paragraph four times and not comprehending a word it said, he gave up and closed the file.

The television stayed on, but he paid it little mind. Until a story on the news caught his attention.

“Police are investigating the death of a Robertson County man last night at a bar in Gallatin,” the announcer said. Spencer recognized the green Ford pickup in the inset picture over the woman’s right shoulder. “Patrick ‘Patch’ Farmer reportedly got into an altercation with another patron. Witnesses say he was severely intoxicated and continually repeated a statement to the effect that he wanted his wife back. The Sumner County Sheriff’s Office is working with Robertson County officials to locate Mr. Farmer’s wife, whom authorities haven’t been able to find. Anyone knowing the whereabouts of Caroline Farmer is asked to contact the Robertson County Sheriff’s Office.”

Dragging a shirt over his head, Spencer didn’t bother with shoes. He was at the front door of the house in seconds. When Rosie opened it, she said, “Spencer, Lorelei is sleeping, but I don’t think she wants to see you.”

“I’m not here for Lorelei.” He pulled the screen door open and brushed past the older woman. “Where’s Carrie?”

“I’m right here,” his ex-wife said, entering the living room with a ball of yarn and a long needle in her hand. “What’s going on?”

“Have you seen the news?” he asked.

Carrie shook her head. “No. Why do I need to see the news?”

Shock had carried him this far, but Spencer hadn’t thought about how he would say the words. Crossing the floor to stand in front of her, he said, “It’s Patch.”

The yarn and needle hit the floor. “What about him?” she asked.

“He got in a bar fight down in Gallatin.” Running a hand through his hair, he spit out what he knew. “Patch is dead.”

The color drained from Carrie’s face seconds before she crumbled. Spencer caught her before she hit the floor and carried her to the couch. As Rosie joined them with a cold washcloth, Lorelei stepped out of the stairwell.

“What’s going on? What are
you
doing here?”

Spencer didn’t look up from dabbing Carrie’s forehead and cheeks with the rag. “I had to tell Carrie something.”

Lorelei charged over to the couch and looked down at the unconscious woman. “What the hell did you tell her that made this happen?”

“Patch Farmer was in a bar fight last night.” Meeting Lorelei’s eye for the first time, he said, “Her husband is dead.”

Spencer stuck around long enough for them to revive Carrie and then contact the authorities, but he was gone before the sheriff’s deputy arrived. It was going to be hard enough for Patch’s wife to explain why she’d been so hard to find. Explaining why her ex-husband knew her whereabouts when her current husband did not seemed like an unnecessary conversation to have with the police.

But then Patch was now Carrie’s former husband as well. Her reaction to the news had been a clear indication of how she’d felt about the man whose baby she was carrying. For all his faults—and from what Lorelei had learned, Patch had many—his wife still loved him. In fact, she insisted he had a tender side and could even be romantic when he wanted to be.

Unfortunately, he could also be a real SOB, and he chose to be that more often than not.

By nightfall, Carrie looked exhausted and had said more than once that she felt overwhelmed. She could return home now, since the danger that had kept her at the Pratchett house had passed—literally. But Lorelei had grown to like the expectant mother, and Granny looked ready to adopt her. Together, they convinced her to stay one more night, though they did make a quick run to her double-wide for some personal items and a fresh change of clothes.

She’d been borrowing pieces of Lorelei’s, but as Carrie was a good four inches shorter and twenty pounds lighter, even at three months pregnant, than her fashion benefactor, she was in desperate need of something that didn’t make her look like a castaway.

“I can tell you one thing,” Snow said while tapping a nail on the dining room table, “this town always had its drama, but things have gotten a whole lot more interesting since you walked into my store.”

Lorelei wasn’t sure if the statement was a compliment, but she did know she couldn’t take credit for everything. “I had nothing to do with what happened to Carrie’s husband.”

“Well,” Snow said, “you did kick him in the nuts and take his wife.”

“I didn’t know that would make him get roaring drunk and take on three guys in a fight.”

The police had shared more details than Spencer had gleaned from the news coverage. Patch had run into some coworkers in the bar in Gallatin, and they apparently weren’t his friends. When one of them asked where Patch’s pretty little wife was, Farmer snapped and jumped him.

No one knew for sure who broke the beer bottle that killed Patch, as the incident happened in the parking lot and none of the men were being very cooperative, but all three were currently being held in the Sumner County Jail as authorities continued to investigate.

“This is true,” Snow said, glancing at Carrie, who sat with Granny in the living room. “I feel so bad for her. Talk about a crappy weekend.”

Lorelei propped an elbow on the table and dropped her chin into her palm. “From what I’ve gathered, she’s had a crappy life. While the threat of being backhanded is gone, she still has a baby coming. With Patch gone, not only is there no father, but now she has no income.”

“Do you think he had life insurance?” Snow asked.

Patch Farmer hadn’t seemed like the kind of guy to have his own insurance agent. “Maybe they offer something through his work. I’ll make sure Carrie looks into it.”

Tilting her head to the side, Snow said, “That girl is lucky you found her when you did. But doesn’t your shared connection with Spencer make this somewhat . . . complicated?”

Mention of Spencer brought Lorelei’s anger back to the surface. Deep down, she knew he would never have intentionally spewed her secret to Becky, but she also didn’t understand how something so important could just slip out. Unable to reconcile her feelings one way or another, she’d pushed the whole topic out of her mind.

“I wouldn’t know what to do if things weren’t complicated,” Lorelei replied. And she was telling the truth. The good came with the bad. Her mother had sacrificed and suffered, but she’d also known real love. Carrie had endured more than her fair share of crap, but she remained sweet-natured and still had a new little one to look forward to.

And Lorelei had more than a complicated relationship with Spencer, to say the least. If they had any relationship at all at this point. She was still too mad to even think about forgiving him. And after what she’d said, she doubted he was feeling very forgiving in her direction either. Spencer may have been an endlessly patient man who’d seen past the attitude and bravado and declared that he liked her, faults and all, but they’d both crossed a line this time.

“Lorelei?” Snow said. “Where did you go?”

Shaking her head, Lorelei apologized. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I was lamenting that the store isn’t busy enough for me to give her a job. Not that what I could pay would be enough to support her and a baby, but it would be something for now.”

Talk of giving Carrie a job planted an idea in Lorelei’s mind. “I may be able to help her in that area.”

“You know someone who’s hiring?”

“The position is currently filled, but that will be changing very soon.”

With narrowed eyes, Snow dropped her voice. “I admit, I haven’t known you very long, but that look is pretty universal. You’re up to something.”

“Like you said yourself,” she answered with a smile. “I do like to keep things interesting.”

And it was about time Lorelei used her powers for good.

Chapter 29

Spencer didn’t see Lorelei on Monday or Tuesday. He knew she’d been helping Carrie clean up the mess Patch had dropped in her lap. As much as he hated to think ill of the dead, he couldn’t help but be pissed at the man who’d slept with his wife, taken her for his own, then been irresponsible enough to get himself killed while Carrie was carrying his baby.

The fact that he’d abused her would have been enough to keep Spencer’s blood boiling, but he also couldn’t ignore his own part in pushing Carrie in the jerk’s direction. Yes, they’d been young and hurting and neither knew how to deal with losing a child, but maybe if he’d tried a little harder. If he’d put in more effort or talked through it instead of keeping it all inside.

Ironic that second-guessing the mistakes he’d made with Carrie had pushed Spencer to do something about what was going on between him and Lorelei. He wasn’t about to lose another woman due to stupidity or pride or out-and-out pigheadedness. In fact, losing Lorelei was an experience he intended
not
to repeat.

On Tuesday afternoon, Spencer had stopped by Snow’s shop on a mission. Lorelei liked sparkly things, and Snow had no shortage of items to fit that description. He’d asked the proprietor if she knew of any piece in particular that Lorelei had her eye on. After he’d convinced the store owner that his intentions were in the right place, she showed him a ring that Lorelei had been drooling over since her first time in the shop.

There was a large stone in the center, with ten triangular rubies or garnets—Snow wasn’t sure which—set around it, giving the effect of a ten-point star. Surrounding the deep red stones were half circles of tiny diamonds, and the whole piece looked like an expensive flower planted atop a solid gold band.

Snow explained that she was no antique dealer, but she guessed the ring had been made in the first half of the twentieth century. The owner, who had given the ring on consignment, wished to remain anonymous, but Snow had received explicit instructions regarding the minimum amount she could accept. That amount was three hundred dollars less than the little tag said, and Spencer walked out of the store with the token safely encased in a navy-blue velvet box tucked in the shirt pocket over his heart.

Exactly where it belonged until he could slide it onto Lorelei’s left hand. Which he would do today.

At exactly nine o’clock on Wednesday morning, Spencer walked into the office of Lowry Construction with his heart in his throat and sweat soaking his palms. But as he rounded the corner into the main area, Lorelei’s desk was empty while Mike sat behind his own reviewing a set of blueprints.

“Where’s Lorelei?” Spencer asked.

Mike looked up with raised brows, clearly surprised by the unexpected visitor. “She isn’t here.”

Spencer could see that much for himself. “Then where is she?”

Rising from his chair, Mike said, “She doesn’t want you to know that.”

After Spencer had broken the news about Patch’s death, he’d left the women to handle details with the police and called Mike to request a meeting that afternoon. To his relief, Mike hadn’t been nearly as angry about his slip to Becky, and in fact completely understood how the busybody in question could push a man to his limits.

This made the uncooperative response a surprise. “Mike, I need to find her.”

“Well, you won’t find her here anymore.”

“What?”

“She quit,” Mike said. “She’s giving her job to Carrie Farmer, though I’m still not sure how she convinced me to agree to that.”

The blood drained from Spencer’s brain. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Her car wasn’t in the driveway at the house when he’d left. If she didn’t go to work, then where was she?