Moonlighting in Vermont (10 page)

* * * * *

It was unnaturally quiet when I woke. I lay listening to the hush. Then it hit me. I sat up in bed and looked out the window. Snow. Not a little snow, either. Eight inches on the porch roof, and it was still coming down hard. I groaned. No car. Cripes, how was I going to get to work?

I got up and pulled on my cold weather barn clothes. Long johns, sweats, wool socks, long-sleeve undershirt, hoodie, snow boots and barn coat. I banged down the stairs, stomped into the kitchen to start the coffee maker, and headed out the door. The snow packed into the tops of my boots as I trudged to the barn.
By the time I was halfway through my chores, I’d shed my coat and hoodie. With the animal chores done, I fired up the snow blower and cleared the snow out of the dooryard, from in front of the barn and tractor shed. I tucked the snow blower away and went back in the house, shaking the snow off my clothes on the porch.

My answering machine was blinking. I pushed the play button and was rewarded with Tom’s voice. “Bella, Meg says to tell you not to ride that bike in this weather. I’ll bring the jeep up to get you around nine.” The answering machine made its I’m-all-done-playingmessages noise and fell silent. I checked the clock for the time and hustled upstairs for a shower.

Tom beeped his horn right at nine. I poured the rest of my coffee down the drain, rinsed my cup, and went out to join him. The snow had stopped falling, but the sky hadn’t lightened.

“I didn’t know it was going to snow. How’d I miss that?”
“It was forecast on Sunday, but I think Sunday is going to be the lost vacation for you.” Tom smiled at me. “There was a winter storm warning last night. You don’t turn your TV on much do you?”
“I always fall asleep when I watch TV by myself. And I do so remember Sunday. I just don’t remember seeing the weather forecast.”
“Oh, really? Do you remember getting undressed?”
“Oh, sure, bring that up.” I felt my face warming up.
Great
. I couldn’t think of anything smart and snappy to say, so I was quiet the rest of the way into town. Tom dropped me at the paper with a wave.
Meg and I were well into Tuesday paste-up mode when Lucy Howe waltzed into the office. She planted herself in front of Meg’s desk.
“I’ve got an addition to my article. Do you think we could get it in the paper? It would really spice things up.”
“I don’t know.” Meg turned to me. “Bree, what do you think? Is there room?”
“Personally, I think that article is already spicy enough. Too bad you couldn’t come up with any facts to put in it. It’s all rumor and supposition.” I’d watched my share of crime scene shows.
“You can keep your sour grapes out of this, Bree.” Lucy turned her back on me. “I don’t know why you keep her here. If I was in charge, we wouldn’t have a murder suspect working for us.”
Meg gave Lucy the beady eyeball. “Innocent until proven guilty. I don’t for a minute believe that Bree killed anyone.” She turned back to me. “Bree, do we have room to add to Lucy’s piece?”
“It depends how long it is, but we could probably make it work.” Inwardly, I was raging. Why couldn’t I just freaking lie?
“And do we have time to type, proof and set it?”
“Probably.” My teeth clenched. I was going to have to set the rest of that stinking article.
Lucy watched while I added paragraphs to her article. She could have sent it in electronically and saved me some trouble, but I think the whole point was to make me squirm. The additions were all about Jim Fisk's firm taking on a wrongful death suit that Vera’s family wanted to file against Whispering Birches. No wonder Jim had to dump me. I’d probably end up named in that lawsuit.
Anger and adrenaline simmered in me for the rest of the day. I was hurt that I had to find out from Lucy Howe why I’d been dumped. I was angry that Jim made it appear as though he thought I was guilty. And Lucy just made me want to spit, sneaky little backstabbing Howe that she was.
It was after eleven when I finally sent the paper to the printer. I stood and stretched, rolling the kinks out of my neck. My stomach felt heavy, as though I’d swallowed a rock. My head ached. I couldn’t help but think about how my life was about to change. Tomorrow, the whole doggone town was going to think I killed Vera, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I killed the lights, locked the door, and trudged down the stairs. I pulled my jacket tight as I stepped through the door at the bottom of the stairs. Snow was drifting through the night sky, reflecting the streetlights. I looked around. Where did I park my car? I stood puzzling for a minute. “Oh, yeah. It’s in the shop.” I was stranded.
There was nobody on the street, but I could hear laughter from the grill on the corner. I turned in that direction. Somebody at the bar could probably give me a ride home. I started down the street as a couple walked out of the restaurant into the night. They laughed, and the guy slid his arm around the woman’s shoulder as they started to cross the street.
I watched, wishing I were laughing with someone. Then the guy turned and pointed to something down the street past where I stood in the shadows. They turned in my direction, their faces visible in the light. I reached out and steadied myself on the brick storefront. Jim Fisk was strolling down the middle of the street with his arm around Lucy Howe. The snow swirled around them as they chatted, bumping into each other and laughing.
I shrank into myself.
Don’t let them see me,
I thought.
Please, don’t let them look this way.
I didn’t need to worry. They were too absorbed in each other to notice me standing next to the building. They turned away from me, and I hurried down the street.
I walked through the restaurant into the bar and found a small table on the far wall. I sat with my back to the room and rested my head in my hands. It was warm and noisy in the room, and I felt faintly sick. My thoughts jumped back and forth, trying to make sense of what I had seen. I didn’t know what to think. I groaned out load.
“Hey, you feeling all right? Is your leg bothering you?”
I just about jumped out of my skin. I looked up to see Rob standing next to me, looking concerned.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But you don’t look like you’re feeling very good.”
“I’m fine.” I scowled at the concerned look Rob was giving me. “No, really, I’m fine. Just had a hard day.”
“Get the paper put to bed?”
“Yeah, that was the easy part.”
“Wanna talk? Let me get you a beer.” Rob walked away before I could protest. I didn’t want a beer, and I didn’t want to talk. The last thing I needed was to get drunk and start crying in public. What I wanted to do was to get mad. Once I was good and mad, I’d feel much better.
Rob set a beer in front of me and slid into a seat across from me. “So what’s going on?”
“Just waiting to get angry
“Waiting to get angry? Why’s that?”
“Because once I’m angry, I’ll feel better. I need some righteous indignation to straighten me out.”
“Um, do you want to tell me what we’re talking about?”
“Not really.” But I did anyway. “Did you see James Fisk and Lucy Howe in here earlier?”
“Yeah, they were over in the restaurant. Why?”
“Because I was wondering if they were as friendly in here as they were out on the street after they left.”
“Oh. Don’t know. I saw them in here when I walked in, but that’s all. Are you and Jim still together?”
“No, he broke it off with me. I just didn’t realize he was with Lucy.”
“What a fool.”
“Me?”
“No, not you. Jim.”
“Why would you say that?”
“You’re digging for compliments. Let’s just say that given a choice between Lucy Howe and you, I wouldn’t be dating Lucy Howe.”
I felt myself flush red. I looked down at the table. “Oh. Thanks.”
Max, was in the bar playing darts, so I hopped a ride home with him. When I got into the house, there was a message on my answering machine. Rob had neglected to tell me that my car was ready.
As I got ready for bed, it occurred to me that running into Jim and Lucy had one positive consequence. I felt a lot better about having slept with Beau Maverick.

* * * * *

Wednesdays were a day off at the paper. There was always work to do, but Meg felt that we needed a day to clear our heads before starting the next paper. Often, Jim would take the afternoon off, and we would bum around. I no longer had a bumming partner. Meg liked to spend Wednesday cleaning house and catching up with her kids after school. The rest of the world worked on weekdays. At least today I had Vera’s funeral to look forward to.

I begged a ride down the hill with Max. He dropped me at Rob’s shop, and I tromped through the snow to the small door for customers. The big car door for vehicles was closed, and the shop was comfortably warm.

My car was sitting in the bay, brand new inspection sticker shining in the front window. Rob was standing at his workbench, bent over a work order, tapping his pen in beat to the song on the stereo. He had on jeans and an old sweatshirt. His black boots showed a hint of red sticking out from under his jeans. I’d seen the top of those boots. There’s a red flame running up the sides. I smiled. “Hey.” I walked up to him. “How’s it going?” “Good.” Rob looked into my eyes. “How are you doing

today?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Thanks.” I felt my cheeks heating up.
“What do I owe you?”
“Three hundred fifty dollars.” He pulled an invoice out
of a pile. “I was able to get you a discount on the parts.” “Are you sure? I really don’t want you to undercharge
me.”
“I’m sure. And you should always take advantage of
undercharging. You’ve got to take into consideration
you’re probably being overcharged most of the time.” “But not by you.”
He half shrugged and looked back down at his
paperwork while I searched around in my bag for my
checkbook. I had my fingers crossed that this check
wouldn’t bounce. The computer showed I had plenty of
cash in my account, but there was always the worry that
when the check went through, there wouldn’t be enough
to cover it.
“Deposit this right away, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. But it’s fine, if you need to wait for your
paycheck or something.”
“No. Just put it in the bank today.”

Eight

Rob drove my car out of his shop, jumped out, and held the door open for me. I climbed in and waved as he pulled another car into the bay and rolled down the big door. I eased out of the drive and pointed my car towards home.

My nice, black clothes were jammed at the back of the closet. I laid them on the bed and surveyed the mess. How do you dress for a funeral? I had the sneaking suspicion that whatever I chose would be wrong. Some little detail would give offense, because I’m emotionally ill equipped for this kind of occasion. I decided on a black wool jumper my mom had given me, added black tights and a turtleneck. Slid my feet into low-heeled, black, fur-lined leather boots. If this wasn’t somber enough, then screw it. It was the best I could do.

At the church, I sat toward the back, away from the other employees from the Inn. I zoned out during the sermon and stared at my feet while family and friends came forward to talk about Vera. Somehow, I couldn’t reconcile the petty, vindictive woman I knew with the angelic Vera I was hearing about. The good mother. Friend to all. Caring supervisor. I had a distinct desire to throw up.

Dotty broke into tears before she even reached the front of the church. A male relative—her brother, I think— rushed forward and escorted her back to her pew. At last it was over, and we trooped to our cars. The casket was driven once around the green in final farewell, and we followed the hearse to the cemetery on Route 12.

I thought seriously about skipping the ashes-to-ashes part of the ceremony, but I knew my absence would be commented on. I definitely didn’t need to give anyone anything more to talk about, so I went.

The wailing started as the coffin was lowered into the ground. I wasn’t standing close enough to see who was crying, but I imagined it might be one of Vera’s daughters. At last, flowers and earth were tossed onto the coffin, and I was free. I turned to walk back to my car, picking my way through the headstones. I don’t like to step on dead people.

From the corner of my eye, I caught movement behind me, and a hand grabbed my shoulder. The impact whirled me around, face-to-face with Vera’s oldest daughter. Her cheeks were red and showed traces of tears. The malice in her expression scared me.

“You came to gloat, didn’t you?” Her voice was shrill and loud. I looked for a way to escape, but she had a death grip on my shoulder. “How dare you? You bitch!” She swung her free arm back and slapped me hard across the face.

I gasped and pulled away. Before I could flee, she attacked me with her fists, pummeling me and knocking me to the ground. I curled into a ball in the snow, trying to protect myself. She was sitting on me, pounding my ribs, my head, my hands. Then she was gone, her weight lifted away from me.

“Bree?”

I looked up to see Brian frowning down at me. Behind him, Steve Leftsky had Vera’s daughter around the waist and was hauling her away. She was thrashing and swearing, but Steve held on. He was speaking quietly to her even as she was trying to turn her attack on him.

“Bree?” Brian spoke again. “You hurt?”
I struggled to sit up. “I’m fine. Nothing’s broken.” “Why didn’t you defend yourself?”
“She just buried her mom. If it were me, I’d probably

go berserk, too.” I stood up. I hurt ,but not unbearably. “You’ve got a nasty welt on your face.”
“She must have been wearing a ring or something.” “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car. We don’t need

anyone else thinking you’re a punching bag.”
I looked to see what Steve had done with my attacker.
Mourners surrounded her. Steve was nearby keeping an
eye on things, but he had let her go. I caught his gaze
across the cemetery and gave him what I hoped was my
you-did-good smile. I was glad he hadn’t dragged her off
in a police car.

* * * * *

That evening, I was back at the Inn doing my house-elf thing. Dotty was already back at work. Weird. I avoided my coworkers by standing at the farthest table, folding towels. My hands did the work automatically, which freed my mind to dwell on Vera, Jim, and the rest of my unhappy life.

Lucy and Jim were actually making complete sense to me. A lawyer and a reporter. The perfect match. Lucy could be a charming companion, and she knew how to find things out. Jim would lead Lucy straight to the news. Not that Jim would intentionally tattle on his clients, but Lucy had a way of being where she could overhear conversations.