they have some mimosas waiting for us.”
Good old Kara.
There was most certainly a reason she was my maid of honor.
Chapter 27
I came out of the spa smelling wonderful, feeling more relaxed, but wondering if it had been the best use of my time.
Not that I didn’t deserve two hours of a cranberry butter massage, Douglas fir pedicure, or a sugar cookie facial after all the stress I’d been under, but I couldn’t help but feel that there were more important things that I should be doing.
Like taking care of Huckleberry or looking for Marie.
Or maybe I just wasn’t a spa person.
For someone like Kara, a trip to the spa seemed to cure her of all her ills. For someone like me, it just gave me more time to think about things.
I kept thinking about the man who had busted up my car the day before and what he’d said to me after hurting Huckleberry.
And what he had meant by it.
And what those photos were supposed to mean.
After I picked up my repaired Escape from the auto body shop, I drove home from the spa, consumed by all of it. But I didn’t get any closer to figuring out the mystery.
I rounded the corner to my house, noticing that the driveway was packed with cars.
With everything that had happened, I’d forgotten that it was Warren’s poker night. It looked like a lot of his friends were in town for the holidays, because the cars almost snaked around the block.
I found a parking spot on the curb across the street. As I got out, I heard laughter erupt from inside the house. It sounded like Warren and his pals were having a rip-roaring time.
Chapter 28
“Pull up a chair, darlin’” Sully said after I brought out a plate of white chocolate chip beer brownies, fresh and steaming from the oven. “If I remember right, you’ve got a mighty mean poker face.”
The table was crowded with just about every one of Warren’s old friends. I didn’t feel much like joining in the game, but I couldn’t think of an excuse in time.
After whipping up a quick batch of the beer brownies I always made for Warren’s poker nights and putting them in the oven, I’d spent the evening stroking Huckleberry’s soft fur while he lay there in his dog bed, looking miserable.
Even the Marionberry pie I’d brought home didn’t seem to cheer him up. He leaned forward, lapping at the tin pie pan listlessly before lying back down. Then he looked up at me with sad, bloodshot eyes.
Poor little Hucks.
But I could think of nothing else to help his situation, so I took a seat at the table between Sully and Warren, and let Leon deal me in. Warren patted me on the shoulder before grabbing the biggest brownie on the plate and taking a large bite of it before sweeping up his cards and looking at them.
“That pretty new weather gal on the local news says an even bigger storm’s coming in tonight,” Larry said.
“I’m surprised you could understand what she was saying,” Bob said. “She can barely get from one end of a sentence to the other.”
“Yeah, but she’s easy on the eyes,” Larry said. “That’s all that matters to me. I can read a map just fine on my own.”
“Yeah,” Bob said. “I think everyone knows that that’s all that matters to you.”
“Hey, don’t drag my Sheila into this,” Larry said, putting his cards down and giving Bob an angry look from behind his thick bottle-top glasses.
“Now boys,” Sully said. “Don’t make me go back to my sheriffing days. I’m here just for fun.”
Larry grimaced, looking at Sully and then back at Bob before picking up his cards and making a sour face.
I scooped up the cards in front of me and took a look at them. I didn’t have a thing. I took the three worst and pushed them in front of me.
“These brownies are heaven sent,” Dick, one of Warren’s former mill buddies turned-alcoholic turned-sober preacher for the local Presbyterian church, said. “Absolutely divine. Makes me feel a little less guilty for gambling away the
Good old Kara.
There was most certainly a reason she was my maid of honor.
Chapter 27
I came out of the spa smelling wonderful, feeling more relaxed, but wondering if it had been the best use of my time.
Not that I didn’t deserve two hours of a cranberry butter massage, Douglas fir pedicure, or a sugar cookie facial after all the stress I’d been under, but I couldn’t help but feel that there were more important things that I should be doing.
Like taking care of Huckleberry or looking for Marie.
Or maybe I just wasn’t a spa person.
For someone like Kara, a trip to the spa seemed to cure her of all her ills. For someone like me, it just gave me more time to think about things.
I kept thinking about the man who had busted up my car the day before and what he’d said to me after hurting Huckleberry.
And what he had meant by it.
And what those photos were supposed to mean.
After I picked up my repaired Escape from the auto body shop, I drove home from the spa, consumed by all of it. But I didn’t get any closer to figuring out the mystery.
I rounded the corner to my house, noticing that the driveway was packed with cars.
With everything that had happened, I’d forgotten that it was Warren’s poker night. It looked like a lot of his friends were in town for the holidays, because the cars almost snaked around the block.
I found a parking spot on the curb across the street. As I got out, I heard laughter erupt from inside the house. It sounded like Warren and his pals were having a rip-roaring time.
Chapter 28
“Pull up a chair, darlin’” Sully said after I brought out a plate of white chocolate chip beer brownies, fresh and steaming from the oven. “If I remember right, you’ve got a mighty mean poker face.”
The table was crowded with just about every one of Warren’s old friends. I didn’t feel much like joining in the game, but I couldn’t think of an excuse in time.
After whipping up a quick batch of the beer brownies I always made for Warren’s poker nights and putting them in the oven, I’d spent the evening stroking Huckleberry’s soft fur while he lay there in his dog bed, looking miserable.
Even the Marionberry pie I’d brought home didn’t seem to cheer him up. He leaned forward, lapping at the tin pie pan listlessly before lying back down. Then he looked up at me with sad, bloodshot eyes.
Poor little Hucks.
But I could think of nothing else to help his situation, so I took a seat at the table between Sully and Warren, and let Leon deal me in. Warren patted me on the shoulder before grabbing the biggest brownie on the plate and taking a large bite of it before sweeping up his cards and looking at them.
“That pretty new weather gal on the local news says an even bigger storm’s coming in tonight,” Larry said.
“I’m surprised you could understand what she was saying,” Bob said. “She can barely get from one end of a sentence to the other.”
“Yeah, but she’s easy on the eyes,” Larry said. “That’s all that matters to me. I can read a map just fine on my own.”
“Yeah,” Bob said. “I think everyone knows that that’s all that matters to you.”
“Hey, don’t drag my Sheila into this,” Larry said, putting his cards down and giving Bob an angry look from behind his thick bottle-top glasses.
“Now boys,” Sully said. “Don’t make me go back to my sheriffing days. I’m here just for fun.”
Larry grimaced, looking at Sully and then back at Bob before picking up his cards and making a sour face.
I scooped up the cards in front of me and took a look at them. I didn’t have a thing. I took the three worst and pushed them in front of me.
“These brownies are heaven sent,” Dick, one of Warren’s former mill buddies turned-alcoholic turned-sober preacher for the local Presbyterian church, said. “Absolutely divine. Makes me feel a little less guilty for gambling away the
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