but when her mom didn’t pick up, it transferred over to the Guest Services desk.
She didn’t want to leave a message with the person on duty. The fewer people who knew about the money, the better. She hung up and called Maddy.
“The Knoll, Sister Maddy.”
She stopped inside the front door to unhook Angel’s leash.
“Maddy, it’s me.” The dog shook herself, collar and tags jingling as her ears flew. Posy slung her purse over her shoulder. “Listen, can you give my mom a message?”
Angel went up the stairs into the living room and Posy took a final look at herself in the mirror in the hall. She finger combed her hair around her shoulders.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Tell her I got the money and everything is taken care of.” She opened the front door. “You can also tell her that your mom is my favorite aunt ever and has dibs on my future children for spoiling.”
“My mom came through for you?” Maddy asked. “She was pissed when I told her.”
“Isn’t pissed a little vulgar for a woman of the cloth?”
Holding the cell in one hand, she hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and reached behind her to close the door. Angel scampered out between her feet and shot off around the side of the house.
“Damn it,” she said.
“Now who’s vulgar?” Maddy asked.
“My mother’s dog keeps escaping. Trish better get home quick or I’m putting her schnoodle up for adoption.”
“I have to sing in the choir at the evening service or I’d meet you somewhere to celebrate.”
“I’m going downtown,” Posy said. “With Wes.”
Maddy shouted, “Yes!” and Posy held the phone away from her ear.
“Settle down there, Sister Maddy.”
“I’m settled. Just have a good time, okay? Your mom is safe with me. The money is in the bank. You’re free and clear to enjoy yourself.”
She hung up just as an outraged yowl penetrated the night.
A sleek gray cat streaked down her driveway with Angel in hot pursuit.
Enjoy herself. Right. She wasn’t going to be able to relax until she wrapped up all of her mom’s business here in Kirkland.
CHAPTER EIGHT
W ES TOOK A QUICK SHOWER and then dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeve dress shirt. His hair was still too short to need any brushing, so after he rolled his cuffs up and tied his shoes, he was ready to go.
It was early, but he wasn’t about to sit in his apartment. He’d already fallen asleep on the couch once and that was more than enough. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be keeping the same hours as Mrs. Meacham.
Jay had said the Lemon Drop was right on Main Street, so he walked the five blocks from his apartment to downtown and started south on Main. If he didn’t find the café, he’d walk back up the other side of the street.
There was no doubt Kirkland was everything a small town should be. He’d lived in a small town, but Milton was depressed and on the run-down side of shabby. Still, the bars and restaurants that survived in downtown Milton weren’t quite as—yuppy?—as the places he was passing now.
A bookstore named Shakespeare’s Attic. A yarn store—Crossed Needles. A coffee shop with a chalkboard sign out front advertising iced mocha and homemade blueberry muffins. Every shop he passed looked as if it had come from a movie set or Walt Disney World.
Kirkland wasn’t exactly Stepford levels of uncomfortable, but there was something to be said for the tacky honesty of the neon beer signs in the window of the Pond, the thriving pizza place in Milton.
He was almost past the Christmas store when the name painted on the window registered. The Wonders of Christmas Shoppe. Wonders—that was Trish Jones’s store. He went back to the door, but the place was locked up and the sign said Closed. He glanced up and down the block. All the other shops and restaurants were open.
He cupped his hands around his eyes and looked through the window, but he couldn’t see much more than a cramped, crowded aisle and a bunch of Christmas
She didn’t want to leave a message with the person on duty. The fewer people who knew about the money, the better. She hung up and called Maddy.
“The Knoll, Sister Maddy.”
She stopped inside the front door to unhook Angel’s leash.
“Maddy, it’s me.” The dog shook herself, collar and tags jingling as her ears flew. Posy slung her purse over her shoulder. “Listen, can you give my mom a message?”
Angel went up the stairs into the living room and Posy took a final look at herself in the mirror in the hall. She finger combed her hair around her shoulders.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Tell her I got the money and everything is taken care of.” She opened the front door. “You can also tell her that your mom is my favorite aunt ever and has dibs on my future children for spoiling.”
“My mom came through for you?” Maddy asked. “She was pissed when I told her.”
“Isn’t pissed a little vulgar for a woman of the cloth?”
Holding the cell in one hand, she hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and reached behind her to close the door. Angel scampered out between her feet and shot off around the side of the house.
“Damn it,” she said.
“Now who’s vulgar?” Maddy asked.
“My mother’s dog keeps escaping. Trish better get home quick or I’m putting her schnoodle up for adoption.”
“I have to sing in the choir at the evening service or I’d meet you somewhere to celebrate.”
“I’m going downtown,” Posy said. “With Wes.”
Maddy shouted, “Yes!” and Posy held the phone away from her ear.
“Settle down there, Sister Maddy.”
“I’m settled. Just have a good time, okay? Your mom is safe with me. The money is in the bank. You’re free and clear to enjoy yourself.”
She hung up just as an outraged yowl penetrated the night.
A sleek gray cat streaked down her driveway with Angel in hot pursuit.
Enjoy herself. Right. She wasn’t going to be able to relax until she wrapped up all of her mom’s business here in Kirkland.
CHAPTER EIGHT
W ES TOOK A QUICK SHOWER and then dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeve dress shirt. His hair was still too short to need any brushing, so after he rolled his cuffs up and tied his shoes, he was ready to go.
It was early, but he wasn’t about to sit in his apartment. He’d already fallen asleep on the couch once and that was more than enough. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be keeping the same hours as Mrs. Meacham.
Jay had said the Lemon Drop was right on Main Street, so he walked the five blocks from his apartment to downtown and started south on Main. If he didn’t find the café, he’d walk back up the other side of the street.
There was no doubt Kirkland was everything a small town should be. He’d lived in a small town, but Milton was depressed and on the run-down side of shabby. Still, the bars and restaurants that survived in downtown Milton weren’t quite as—yuppy?—as the places he was passing now.
A bookstore named Shakespeare’s Attic. A yarn store—Crossed Needles. A coffee shop with a chalkboard sign out front advertising iced mocha and homemade blueberry muffins. Every shop he passed looked as if it had come from a movie set or Walt Disney World.
Kirkland wasn’t exactly Stepford levels of uncomfortable, but there was something to be said for the tacky honesty of the neon beer signs in the window of the Pond, the thriving pizza place in Milton.
He was almost past the Christmas store when the name painted on the window registered. The Wonders of Christmas Shoppe. Wonders—that was Trish Jones’s store. He went back to the door, but the place was locked up and the sign said Closed. He glanced up and down the block. All the other shops and restaurants were open.
He cupped his hands around his eyes and looked through the window, but he couldn’t see much more than a cramped, crowded aisle and a bunch of Christmas
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