The Widow of Saunders Creek (13 page)

“You could open the door.”

“Got it.” She stepped ahead of me and stood on the porch as I maneuvered the long boards outside. I dumped them on the ground by my truck so I could salvage what was usable and burn the rest later.

“So what are you doing home?” I asked. “It’s not a holiday.”

“Way to state the obvious.” Ava laughed, following me to the truck. “I had a couple of days off, so I came to help Mom do inventory and rearrange her store. She’s expecting a lot of business with summer solstice just three weeks away.”

I tensed at the mention of the pagan holiday. Ava’s mom catered to more commercial forms of the craft: tarot cards, palm reading, and the like. Her little shop in the oldest part of Saunders Creek generated business from several towns in a seventy-mile radius. Although Aunt Trudy and her kind considered Mrs. Lancaster’s business to be little more than smoke and mirrors, I knew better. She claimed to be a pretty powerful
medium, and even Aunt Trudy seemed to give her some credit for that. Despite her disdain for back-room palm reading.

I began pulling the new boards from the truck. They were oak and heavy, and I’d have to carry them two at a time to make sure I didn’t bump up against anything and hurt the wood.

Leaning against the tailgate, Ava shrugged, clearly realizing I wasn’t going to be sucked into an argument about her mother’s practices. This was a point where we agreed to disagree. “Anyway, I’m going to help with some organizing and advertising, and then I’ll be back during the holiday to help her with the onslaught of customers she expects.” She said the last with a facetious smile. “She’s hoping to remodel her kitchen with the extra money from the rush. Who knows, she might even call on you to do the job.”

Clearly, Ava wouldn’t take a hint that I wanted to keep working without distraction. I was raised to be a gentleman, so I followed her example and leaned against the tailgate too, the extended boards between us.

“I’d be happy to give her an estimate, but I can’t start on anything until fall. My house is still a work in progress after those storms, and we have camp coming up.”

“Oh yeah. Camp.”

I had just started kicking around the idea of starting one right before our breakup. Ava had never been gung-ho about it. I never really understood why.

“So what kind of damage did the storm do to your place? I drove by and saw the windows boarded up.”

I nodded. “Mostly loose shingles and broken windows. The new
windows are going in later today. Several trees I’ll have to cut down and chop up. Your folks need any firewood for this winter?”

“I’m sure they’d appreciate it. Daddy can’t do much physical labor since the stroke last year.”

“Tell them to count on a couple of truck loads anyway.”

Her face brightened with a smile that showed off straight teeth and a little dimple at the edge of her mouth that I once loved to kiss. “Why don’t you come by for supper tonight? You can tell Daddy yourself. They’d love to have you over. Mom always says she doesn’t see you enough since we broke up.”

My gut tensed at the thought. I didn’t want Ava getting the wrong idea. I was formulating a polite refusal when she scowled. “Honestly, Eli. It’s one meal with old friends. Or do you have plans?”

The way her voice lilted on that last word, I had no doubt she was implying something about Corrie and me. My defenses rose. “No. I don’t.” I stood and grabbed two of the heavy boards.

Ava followed me as I walked toward the porch. “Well, then?”

“I don’t know, Ava. I’ll think about it.”

She emitted a soft sigh. “Well, I have to get back to the store.”

“I’m sure your mom appreciates the help.” I nodded at the door. “Get that before you go, will you?”

“Oh yeah.” She stood and held the door while I passed by, straining with the boards. She smelled faintly of Ralph Lauren Blue. I only knew the scent because I’d bought her at least five bottles of the stuff over the years for one event or another. My memory liked it.

“So, I met Jarrod’s wife.”

“Oh?” I tried to keep my tone nonchalant. The last thing I wanted or
needed was Ava zoning in her radar on my feelings for Corrie, especially when I wasn’t sure about them myself. “When did you meet Corrie?”

“On my way here. She seems nice.”

“She is.”

“She said the two of you are just friends.”

I scowled at her, irritation zipping through me. “What’d you do, interrogate her?”

“Of course not, Eli.” Her tone dripped with irritation. “She told me you were here. I asked if you were dating, and she said you were just friends.”

“Well, she’s right, and I’m not talking about it.” I started up the steps. Predictably, she followed. She didn’t seem in any hurry to get back to the store, after all.

“Wow, Eli, you’re really fixing this place up.” Her boots clicked on the wooden steps behind me. “It’s a labor of love, isn’t it?”

I shoved out a breath. “I told you we’re friends. Nothing more.”

I set the two long boards on the hallway floor and straightened up to find her smiling, her eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“I was talking about the house, the past, your grandparents, Jarrod. But obviously you have more feelings for Corrie than you’re copping to.” She stepped forward and put her arms around me. We had known each other for so many years, my natural reaction was to pull her to me and accept the hug. She drew back. “I’ll let you get back to work. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Will you be around on Sunday?” I asked. “I’m preaching at the little church.”

“I’m driving back to St. Louis Sunday afternoon, but I might stop by to hear you preach before I go.”

“I hope you do.” I watched her descend the steps, her long legs striding gracefully, her slender fingers sliding along the banister. She stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up at me. “Don’t kid yourself, Eli.”

Her words jolted through me. I knew exactly where she was going with that loaded comment. “It’s a renovation, Ava. Nothing more. Don’t read more into it than there is.”

Reaching for the door, she gave a throaty laugh. “I may not have my mother’s talents, but I think I can read people pretty well. You are smitten with the new girl.”

Delicious aromas of rising yeast and baking chocolate greeted me as I stepped into Jerry’s. Beyond the bakery section, to the far right, I could see a door leading into what I assumed was the art store. Paintings stood on easels and hung on the walls. At first glance, I didn’t recognize any of the painters. A few of the more abstract pieces caught my eye, and I wondered if these were local artists.

The man behind the bakery glass had a round face and an equally round belly. He couldn’t have been much taller than I was, and his face lit up when he saw me. “Hiya, Corrie Saunders. Happy birthday!”

I couldn’t help but return his wide grin. “Thank you.” I hesitated, trying to remember if he’d been in Sam’s shop while I was working. “Have we met?”

Waving his pudgy hand, he shook his head. “Nah. Eli Murdock described you to me. I’m Jerry. I own the place. You here for your paints and supplies?”

“I am.” I motioned toward some of the paintings on display. “These are good.”

He nodded, and I sensed pride. “My son Billy painted most of these. Gets all his talent from his mother. I sell them here. ’Course most folks ’round here have already bought his work, so these have been here awhile.” He grinned at me. “You want one?”

Of course I would get one, if for no other reason than to support a man who so unabashedly promoted his son’s talents. Besides, I was a strong believer in supporting local artists.

“Sure,” I said. “Let me take a look at them.” They were stills mostly. Foliage in the autumn; the river in spring or summer. A beautiful red barn set against rolling, snowy hills. I was leaning toward the river picture when Jerry pointed toward the far wall at the end of the counter. “You might recognize that.”

I walked to the painting he indicated. “My house.”

“Yep. Looks exactly like it, don’t it?” He practically beamed as he took it off the wall and handed it over.

Resting the bulky painting against my thighs, I studied the technique. Jerry’s son had good raw talent but could benefit from training, though I’d never presume to say something like that.

I tilted my head to one side and concentrated on the story the artist was trying to tell. The lines were a bit off here and there, and he’d used too much gray in the dingy white, but it was definitely my house, painted against a cloud-ravaged night sky. I shuddered. It looked
haunted. Was this the way Jerry’s son saw my house? Something scary and Halloweenish?

“What is that in the attic window?” I asked. The double windows had some sort of shadow standing behind a candle.

A shrug lifted meaty shoulders, and he averted his gaze. “Just something the kid saw that night. Said he thought it might be a ghost or something. I don’t believe in that hooey, but kids these days believe in everything. Billy sat in his car sketching the whole thing on a pad before he came home and painted it.

Intrigued, I squinted, unable to look away. “When did he paint this?”

“Let’s see.” He moved in front of me to the back of the painting. “Says here November 12.”

My stomach did a little turn, and my fingers weakened so that I almost dropped the painting. I recovered it in time.

“All right.” I handed it to him. “I need to look at the art supplies, but this is the one I want.”

I was a bit unnerved as I went into the art room to look at their selection. Jerry followed me, carrying the painting. A short, plump fortyish woman greeted me as warmly as Jerry had moments before. “You must be Corrie,” she said. Her eyes smiled, along with her lips. If it were possible for a whole face to grin, hers would. Immediately, I was drawn to her. She held a cloth in her hands and wiped at the paint on her fingers. “I’m Verna, Jerry’s wife.”

Jerry’s chest puffed out, and he slipped his arm around the darling woman. I swear, if they’d introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Claus, I would have believed them. “Verna paints too.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Verna.” I walked to the canvas she seemed to be working on. Now I knew where the abstracts originated. I related to the painting of a flock of geese surrounded by reds and golds. “This is nice,” I said.

“That’s so sweet of you to say.” Her face glowed red. “It’s a pastime, really.”

I didn’t believe that for a second. This lady had talent and vision. Clearly, she loved what she did here. “Only a pastime?” I asked, then regretted my impulse. I tried to stay out of other people’s business. Besides, I had no room to talk. I hadn’t colored a canvas in eight years.

But I’d already opened the window, and she nodded. “I gave it up when I married Jerry.”

“That’s right,” he said. “I’m a full-time job.”

She laughed and patted his cheek. “You sure are, hon.” She focused her attention on me once more. “I picked it up again as a hobby a year or two ago, after our Billy graduated high school and went on to college.”

“Well, you’re quite good,” I said. “This is impressive work.”

“Never seen a red goose before,” Jerry said. “But my girl sees things her own way.”

The front bell dinged. Jerry grinned and tipped his cap. “Customer. Make sure you come see me before you leave.”

“She’ll have to go through there to get out anyway, Jerry,” his wife reminded him.

I spent the next twenty minutes rummaging through the store for supplies. I grabbed so much it was as though I’d never seen paints and brushes before. I knew I was racking up a monster bill, and I had no intention of allowing Eli to pay for it all. But when I got to the register,
Verna refused my payment. “Eli threatened never to do another day of business here unless I let him buy it all.”

“But it’s too much. I can’t let him do it.” I held out my credit card again. “Can’t you just ring up a few things for him and let me buy the rest?”

She shook her head. “He said you’d probably try that, and I was honor bound to keep my word.”

“Good grief.” I snatched up the two bags she’d already tallied. “Fine.” I’d just slip a little extra into his check when he got around to billing me for labor at the house. “How much for Billy’s painting?”

She named a price I thought reasonable, and I nodded.

Her face softened. “Thank you for supporting him.”

“He’s pretty good.” Finally, she accepted my card. “And it is my house.”

When the transaction ended, she picked up the painting. “I’ll carry this out to your car for you. And Jerry has something for you from the bakery too.”

“Oh?”

Jerry was waiting on a customer when we walked through the door. He glanced up. “Ah, the birthday girl is finished shopping. Looks like you got yourself an armload.”

“Your wife knows how to stock an art supply store.” I was sincerely pleased with my purchases and doubted I could have found much better in the city. It was clear she knew about paints. “I’m afraid I broke poor Eli.”

“Now, you let him get you that birthday gift. A girl needs pampering now and then.”

The customer paid, grabbed her bag of goodies, and left. Jerry lifted a box from the shelf behind him and set it on the counter. “These are also from Eli.”

“These?”

Grinning, he opened the box, revealing a dozen cupcakes.

My mouth watered. “Red velvet with cream-cheese frosting?”

“Yep. Said he called your sister and asked her your favorite.”

“He must have jacked my phone when I wasn’t looking,” I said, mostly to myself.

A red candle poked through each cupcake, and I was taken aback by Eli’s thoughtfulness and generosity.

“He must like you a whole lot to go to all this trouble for you,” Jerry said, chuckling.

“Jerry!” Verna shook her head and frowned.

“What?”

“Mind your own business, that’s what.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. It must be wonderful to grow into a plump older couple and still be so much in love.

Jerry carried the cupcakes outside while Verna followed with the painting. I had to admit that so far Eli had given me a very special birthday. Now I was off to do a little shopping until lunch with Samantha Murdock.