Willow peeked out the window again. “I hope this isn’t some kind of prank.” Which
immediately made her think of Jack. Jack loved his pranks. “It’s not even Halloween
yet.”
“What makes you think it’s a prank? Let’s flatter ourselves and think your caramels
have finally caught on epically.” Shiloh grinned at her.
Willow couldn’t help but smile. There was a reason she kept Shiloh around.
“How was your dinner with the mysterious Con?” Shiloh switched topics abruptly as
she tossed the apron over her head and tied the strings around her waist. She watched
Willow as closely as a mother looking for a child’s lie as she waited for her answer.
Something in her tone made Willow suspicious. It was less,
How was your evening with Con, hint, hint, wink, wink, did you do the deed?
and more,
Something is rotten in Orchard Bluff.
Willow answered with a certain amount of hesitancy and evasive action. “Fi-i-i-ne,”
she singsonged, stringing the one-word answer out.
Shiloh pursed her lips and shook her head. “You’re hedging, boss. I need details.”
Her tone still wasn’t as light and youthful, eager, spill-the-details Shiloh-like
as Willow expected out of her.
Living with Jack had made Willow something of an expert at detecting lies and cover-ups.
Shiloh either knew something, suspected something, or was trying to cover something
up. None were good scenarios.
The ladies outside grew louder. Willow put a tray of freshly made sea-salted lavender
caramels into the refrigerated glass display case. “Why do I have the feeling I’m
in for the Orchard Bluff inquisition?”
“What do you mean?”
Way too innocent and nervous there, Shiloh girl.
“That wasn’t your usual salacious
How was your evening with a hot man?
tone.” Willow began filling another display tray with caramels. She glanced up at
the clock. Two minutes until the crowd rushed the door. She was running behind, too,
feeling like a contestant on an episode of those crazy timed cooking shows as she
arranged the tray.
“I can put more innuendo in if you’d like.” Shiloh washed her hands, wiped them on
a paper towel, lowered her voice, and wiggled her eyebrows. “How
was
your evening, boss?”
Willow shook her head. “You’re right. I liked it better without the innuendo.” She
paused. “Why do I get the sense something’s up that I don’t know about?”
Willow hated the thought of peaceful Orchard Bluff going covert on her. She’d had
enough of that life with Jack. “What’s up with you?”
Shiloh sighed and finally looked Willow in the eye. “Nothing.”
Willow gave her the piercing
tell me the truth or spend the afternoon scouring candy kettles
stare.
Shiloh caved, sort of. “It’s just … well, what do you know about Con?”
“Con?”
Oh no, please don’t let small-town politics and suspicion rear their ugly heads now,
at the worst possible time.
If the citizens of Orchard Bluff turned on Con, they’d run him out within days. She
needed Con around long enough to prove he was really Jack. And she needed Jack around
forever. And if Con was simply Con, she was getting the feeling she needed him, too.
Another terrible thought occurred to Willow—was she the cause of this sudden suspicion?
Had someone found out she’d been Googling Con and checking up on him? Seen her buying
that DNA sample taking kit? Had she inadvertently aroused suspicions?
She’d been so incredibly careful. She’d practically worn a trench coat with the collar
turned up and dark glasses as a disguise. And she’d gone deep into the city to Drew’s
contact specifically to avoid the prying eyes of the people of Orchard Bluff.
In the year and a half since she’d been here, she’d quickly realized she was a lot
more anonymous in the city. Small towns, even peaceful, loving little small towns,
loved nothing more than gossip and speculation. Willow remembered the gist of a quote
from
Pride and Prejudice
: “What do we live for but to entertain our neighbors?” That was too true here.
What sort of horrible rumor had someone started? Did they think Willow was trying
to prove Con really was Aldo’s cousin and not an imposter? Or the daddy of her hidden
child? She didn’t have a hidden child, but in a town like this nothing was beyond
the imagination.
She had to calm the savage mob.
And right now Willow simply needed to play it cool with Shiloh, who could be the town’s
inside informant. “I know all I need to about him.”
Except whether he’s actually Jack, for sure and certain.
“I’m just saying, it might be wise to find out a little
more
about him before you become too attached to him.” Shiloh looked timid for the first
time Willow could remember since hiring her.
“Too attached?” Willow laughed. “I’m not going to run off and marry him.” She shook
her head as if Shiloh had just said something very silly. If Willow was right, and
she believed she was, she was
already
married to him. So clear conscience, no lie there. “Why the sudden concern?”
“We like you, Willow,” Shiloh said, hedging again.
Willow got the distinct impression there was something she wasn’t saying. “And?”
“Con’s from Chicago.” Shiloh cleared her throat and looked down at her colorful Converse
tennis shoes. “We don’t want him to sweep you away with him.”
Willow shook her head, bemused and confused. “One dinner and the town’s worried I’m
going to run off with him?”
Well, they had part of it right. If Con was Jack she’d follow him anywhere, run with
him to the moon.
She felt that deep sense of longing again so strongly she had to resist the urge to
clamp her legs together. The desire to track Con down and make love with him nearly
overwhelmed her good judgment and common sense.
She and Jack used to make love every day when he was home. When he went away on a
mission it was torture without him. The moment he walked back in her door they ripped
each other’s clothes off. She felt an emotional and spiritual connection with Jack
when they made love that she could only liken to the high of listening to a favorite
piece of music and letting your spirit soar with it.
“Well, you know what they say,” Shiloh said. “Lonely widows and all. They can fall
too easily for any handsome man who comes along.”
Willow rolled her eyes. “On the very off chance I did suddenly decide Con was the
one, I wouldn’t run. I’d stay right here among my friends.”
The clock on the wall chimed ten. Willow took a deep breath and sighed, eager to be
distracted from this conversation. “Time to let the marauding horde in.” She grabbed
her key, took a second deep, calming breath, prayed for peace, and unlocked the door.
The group of women pushed in.
Lettie was first in the door. She’d held the Town Grump position more times than anyone
else and felt it gave her extra rights to speak her mind.
She cornered Willow by the windows before she could escape to safety behind the counter.
“Oh, honey,” Lettie said without preamble. “We heard about your dinner with Aldo’s
purported
cousin last night. What were you thinking having a strange man over to your house
all alone?”
He wasn’t a strange man. He was almost certainly her husband.
“I wasn’t all alone. I had Spookie. And Con’s not a stranger. Aldo knows him. What
do you mean by
purported
?” This was bad, worse than Willow originally feared. She couldn’t help sounding defensive.
Lettie clicked her tongue. “Just what I said, hon. Is he really Aldo’s cousin? How
would we know for sure? Aldo has thousands of cousins. You know how those big Italian
Roman Catholic families are—no birth control, mixed with the temperament of Latin
lovers. They multiply like rabbits. It’s impossible to keep track of everyone. I bet
even their mothers don’t know who’s who and where’s where.
“I heard Con’s not related to Aldo at all. He’s just a drifter taking advantage of
Aldo’s hospitality and you. He’s out for your money.” Her eyes snapped as she nodded
to make her point. “Has anyone checked up to make sure he is who he says he is?”
“I heard Con’s already taken advantage of three other women,” Dottie said from Lettie’s
elbow. “Love ’em and leave ’em Con is what they call him. Showers women with attention,
gets them to buy him expensive presents, borrows their money, and absconds with it.”
“I bet he’s a bigamist,” Brenda Hayes, a small, round woman who owned an apple orchard
just outside of town, said. “That’s what I heard, anyway. Probably has half a dozen
children, too.”
“What about Shane?” Lettie nodded her head and shot Willow her accusing stare. Shane
was obviously Lettie’s favorite, even though he was a newcomer and a short-timer in
Orchard Bluff, too. “Ever thought about his feelings?”
“I—” Willow couldn’t keep up with the ambush.
“Con’s wanted in three states,” Sheryl Cramer, Willow’s rural route mail carrier,
interjected, cutting off Willow’s response as she handed Willow her mail. “And I vote
for Shane, too. He’s a good man. Always closes his mailbox nice and tight so the spiders
and rain don’t get in. Very polite, that man.”
She gave Willow a gentle, nudging elbow. “And handsome, too, in an all-American way.
Has character to his features. Who likes such dark, perfect looks as Con’s, anyway?
He’s much too slick for our tastes.”
But not Willow’s. She loved Con’s perfect good looks that reminded her of Jack’s imperfect
ones.
Willow had to put a stop to this blatant rumor growth before either they made Con
into an ax murderer or she exploded. She already felt herself growing hot, and it
wasn’t just due to the crowd of warm bodies and hot tempers around her.
She mouthed across the room at Shiloh to call Aldo and get him over here as soon as
possible. Aldo, with his exotic Italian accent and expressive gestures, could surely
calm the women down. Most of them would quiet just to hear him talk.
“Calm down,” Willow stepped in to rush to Con’s defense. “That’s all rumor and hearsay.
You’ve all met him. You liked him. He’s a charming man, really sweet. He even brought
a treat for Spookie when he came over last night.”
“Of course we like him! That’s part of his nefarious plan to throw us off the scent.
It’s always the charmers you have to watch out for,” Lettie, who appeared to be the
ringleader, said. She was taking her role as Town Grump way too seriously. Keep acting
as she was and they’d have to rename her Town PI or maybe simply Town Snoop and Busybody.
“He acted like a perfect gentleman.” In fact, he’d acted way
too
gentlemanly for Willow’s tastes. She wanted to taste him. If he was Jack, he was
showing a good deal of restraint. She felt the sexual attraction thrumming between
them and knew he did, too. She’d read somewhere that men’s testosterone levels dropped
when they had sex less than once a week. They eventually got used to the drop. She
hoped that explained Jack’s sudden ability to resist certain temptation.
Willow had to calm the women down and reassure them. Where in the world had they gotten
these ridiculous rumors in the first place?
“Perfect gentleman, now is that any way he should be acting around a beauty like you?”
Linda Herman asked. “He should be making a move like a real man. The guys who hang
out at Beck’s would be all over you in a minute, probably less, if you gave them half
a chance.
“That just proves our point. I knew the man was a fake. He’s trying to throw her off
guard so he can move in with his charming ways and elegant clothes, and steal her
money now, too!”
“Steal my money!” Willow couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Like we said, that’s the way all con men operate, honey,” Lettie said. “Move in on
susceptible widows, marry them, and abscond with their insurance settlements. If they’re
pretty like you, it only sweetens the pot, if you know what I mean.”
Willow bit back what she really thought. There was no way the Agency would let her
be taken in by a con man.
“Yeah, he didn’t even have the decency to pick a good cover name,” Willa Bentley,
who owned the best Golden Delicious orchard on the bluff with her husband, chimed
in. “Con! He could have been more original.”
“Probably trying to throw us off track,” Lettie said. “You know, hide in plain sight.”
A sea of heads nodded.
Willow waved her arms in a
cease and desist with this craziness
motion. “No, no, no.”
“Yes.” Lettie nodded.
“Where did you get these crazy ideas? Has anyone asked Aldo?” Willow looked around
the crowd as the finger-pointing began. “Or confronted Con directly?”
“Con would only deny it, wouldn’t he? Smile at us, charm us until we melted under
that hot accent of his and warm, chocolate eyes, and then send us on our way still
in the dark and under his spell.
“And you know Aldo. You don’t insult his family without proof. He’d never sell us
another lasagna again,” Lettie said.
The part about Con charming them was probably true.
“You’re not giving Aldo enough credit,” Willow said. “If he believed for a second
Con was an imposter, he’d protect me and Orchard Bluff and send Con away. I know he
would. Where did you hear these things?” Willow glanced over at Shiloh, who’d just
snapped her cell phone shut.
Shiloh nodded to Willow and mouthed,
Aldo’s on his way.
“I heard it from her.” Lettie pointed to Willa.
Willa pointed to Dottie. She pointed to someone else. This was like a game of round-robin,
nearly impossible to discover a ringleader or the source of the misinformation.
Willow shook her head. “I’m grateful to you all and appreciate how you want to protect
me. Really, I am.
“But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not as gullible as you think.” She snapped
her fingers as she remembered how she’d snooped on Con herself. “I’ve already screened
Con. I did a thorough Internet search on him before I invited him over. He’s exactly
who he says he is.”
Not.
He was her husband, Jack. He had to be.