Grave Risk Page 17

  But Tyler needed to talk about it, apparently, and Rex wanted to be there for him, if nothing else, just to listen.

  “Tyler, we’ve talked about forgiveness.”

  “And we’ve talked about stupidity, Dad. She’s gone through three boyfriends since Kirk, and none of them—”

  There was an angry, feminine exclamation in the background, and Tyler fell silent. Seconds later, Margret’s voice came over the line.

  “Let me guess who this is. Rex Fairfield, I presume. Don’t you have a life somewhere else now? I want you to stop trying to interfere in ours.”

  Doris skewered a thick steak and eased it onto Jill’s plate. “Eat all of it, honey. You look like you could put a few pounds on those hips.”

  “You don’t get to Hideaway much, do you?” Jill grumbled. “I just evicted those pounds this summer, and they aren’t welcome back.”

  “So that means you aren’t having any of my German chocolate cheesecake?” Peggy grinned and patted her belly. “More for me. You’ve been dieting?”

  “Some.”

  “Just some?” Peggy asked, making an exaggerated gesture at Jill’s newly slim figure. “What diet did you use?”

  “I started out on a low-carb, low-fat diet and followed up with portion control and lots of exercise.”

  Sherry wrinkled her nose. “Exercise? What’s that?”

  “It isn’t something you’d understand, honey.” Doris closed the lid over the grill and turned off the switch. “You’d have to do something more energetic than applying nail polish. You didn’t even do that in high school.”

  Sherry scowled at her oldest and best friend, then returned her attention to Jill, studying her face thoughtfully. “The hair is darling. You look younger—”

  “Than the rest of us,” Doris complained. “Which is disgusting.”

  “And perky,” Jill said with sarcasm. “Don’t forget the perky part.”

  “That’s it,” Peggy said. “You do. You look great.”

  Jill suppressed a laugh, then told them about Fawn. Fawn would score big points with these women.

  “Wish we’d had someone like that around when we were in high school,” Doris said.

  “Oh, that reminds me.” Peggy reached for a stack of napkins and passed them around the table. “Did any of you pick up your old records at the school? There was a notice in the paper about three weeks ago. They’re destroying boxes of files twenty years and older.”

  “I got mine,” Sherry said. “And I should have brought them with me for a good laugh. Those things were so bogus. No way the teachers could keep accurate records on all of us.”

  Doris gave Sherry a wink. “You mean the gym teacher actually gave you a grade?”

  “I picked mine up.” Peggy’s voice, suddenly subdued, betrayed her tender heart. “Mrs. Potts was helping pass them out. Did you know, even after all this time, she remembered my name, my older brothers and sisters, and how many times I got sent to her office? When I walked in last month, she greeted me, went straight to the box with my file, and handed me the files for my sisters Mary Lou, Donna and Karen.”

  “They didn’t destroy the rest of the files,” Doris said.

  Peggy passed out paper plates. “They said they would.”

  Doris leaned forward, voice lowered. “Those pages of records were living history, and I couldn’t bear to see something like that destroyed.”

  “So where are they?” Peggy asked, suddenly stern.

  “In a safe place,” Doris assured her.

  Jill made eye contact with Doris, and Doris gave her a slight nod.

  “You took them?” Sherry exclaimed. “Those were private records.”

  “Oh, give me a break, every teenager who ever worked in the office had access to those files,” Doris said.

  Jill cleared her throat. “Have you…you know…looked through them?”

  Doris gave her a level look. “Why would I want to?”

  Jill could think of several reasons.

  “You did, didn’t you?” Sherry accused.

  Doris shrugged, nonchalant.

  “Since we’re on the subject,” Jill said, “could someone remind me who Miss Marilyn Sheave was?”

  All eyes suddenly focused on her.

  “You don’t remember the school counselor?” Sherry asked.

  “She was the counselor?” Jill asked. “I never had to see her for anything.”

  Sherry frowned. “So where would you have seen her name?”

  “On a school record I shouldn’t have.”

  Sherry sighed. “I’m partying with a bunch of lawbreakers.”

  “Any idea where Miss Sheave is now?” Jill asked.

  Doris laughed. “You’re kidding, right? She left after our junior year, married Mr. Moore, the art teacher, and moved out of state.”

  “You mean the Mr. Moore you had the crush on?” Sherry teased.

  Doris made a face at her. “No telling where they are now, or even if they’re still together.”

  “But you could find out,” Jill said. “Right? You’re the computer genius.”

  “Why do you want to know?” Sherry asked.

  “Just curious.”

  For a moment, the only sound on the deck was the sizzle of fat dripping from the remaining steaks on the grill. A boat gunned its motor on the lake below them, beyond the screen of cedars.

  “There wasn’t anyone else like Mrs. Edith Potts,” Doris said at last.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Fawn watched Blaze as he stared into the water, focusing on the strokes of his paddle. He’d been so quiet lately, snapping at her for little things that would never have even caught his notice before. Like her driving. When he’d asked her at school yesterday if she’d come canoeing with him this afternoon, she’d nearly turned him down. But she had heard about Austin Barlow’s visit to the ranch. Everyone was talking about the reconciliation between him and Dane Gideon.

  The ranch was Blaze’s home. Dane was like a father to Blaze, and Cheyenne like a mother. How must Blaze be feeling if the man who had made his life difficult ever since he’d arrived in Hideaway was now all buddy-buddy with the people closest to him?

  “You know, Blaze, you don’t have to take it out on me just because you’re upset about Austin Barlow’s return to town.” Might as well get the subject out in the open.

  “Who said I was upset? Just because you’re talking about throwing your life away, does that give me a right to get upset? Besides, I stay out of Barlow’s way.”

  “Hiding from him?”

  “I don’t choose to be around where he is. That doesn’t mean I’m hiding.”

  “Aren’t you the one who told me to forgive my mom for everything she did to me?” Fawn asked. “Even after she disowned me?”

  “This is different.”

  “You haven’t forgiven Austin.”

  “He hasn’t asked me to.”

  She tapped his paddle with the tip of hers. “You told me not to wait until my mom apologized because it might never happen, and you said that forgiving is for my sake, not my mom’s. Changing your mind about all that stuff now?”

  Blaze watched her for a moment, then his dark eyes seemed to fill with his old, teasing humor. “Where’d you get the idea Austin was my mama?” he asked softly.

  “If it works for mothers like mine, it works for everyone.”

  “I don’t get the whole apology thing with him.” Blaze suddenly plunged his paddle into the water and shoved them away from a boulder. “Most folks liked Austin. He wasn’t a jerk to most folks in town, just Dane, the ranch boys and me, in particular.”

  “And now he and Dane are friends again?”

  “They were never friends. Austin blamed one of the ranch kids for his wife’s death. Folks felt sorry for him because his wife was killed, so they overlooked it when he took to flingin’ accusations and meddlin’ too much in city stuff.”

  “I thought he was the mayor.”

  “A meddlin’ may
or. He’s still meddlin’. Dane has a theory about that. He thinks Austin’s trying to fix things now because he can’t fix his own son. I guess you know why Ramsay went crazy.”

  “I never heard.”

  “His mom and dad had a fight, and Austin left angry. Ramsay tried to go with him—he was just a little kid then—and his mom wouldn’t let him go. He shoved her, she slipped on something and fell, hit her head and it killed her. Ramsay never told anyone what he did, just let that ranch boy take the blame, until he told me, years later.”

  Fawn closed her eyes. How awful. That’s something she might have done when she was younger, because she was always so angry with her mother…with everyone.

  “While Ramsay tried to keep that secret all those years,” Blaze said, “it affected his mind, and he finally convinced himself he was some kind of instrument of God.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “You know what people are always saying when someone dies or is sick. That it’s God’s will and all. So Ramsay figured he was just carrying out God’s will.”

  “That’s scary.”

  “So most folks around here just feel sorry for Austin.”

  “Not everybody,” Fawn said. She’d heard a few mutterings about Ramsay’s uncomfortable relationship with his father.

  “Oh, sure, some people realized he could be a jerk, especially to Dane and the boys—”

  “And extra ’specially to you.”

  “But his son’s actions humiliated and devastated him.”

  “Wow, you really can talk like a mature male of the species when you want to,” Fawn said. “Austin offered to help Bertie if she sells her business.”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “Jill seemed glad to see him,” Fawn said, not sure why she felt like taunting Blaze all of a sudden. “She stood outside the bed and breakfast and talked to him when he first arrived last week. I heard, too, that he went by to see her at her house this morning.”

  “Jill and Austin went steady in high school.”

  “Really? Two old boyfriends in a week? Jill must be getting popular.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I overheard something else,” Fawn said.

  “I don’t want to listen to what you learned from eavesdropping.”

  “That wasn’t what I was doing. I was just sitting in my room, minding my own business, and I couldn’t help hearing Karah Lee and Cheyenne talking in the kitchen about Dr. Rex.”

  “He’s the one Cecil Martin hopes will join the clinic staff, so you’d better be nice to him.”

  “You think you’re pretty smart, but I know something you don’t know.”

  Blaze splashed her with the paddle. “You know a lot of things I don’t never want to know.”

  “I know they’ll kick you out of college for using double negatives.”

  “They haven’t yet.”

  “And I know Simone in the bakery at the college wants you to ask her out.”

  He frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  “Because she just said so yesterday, when I was still mad at you. And I also know Dr. Rex was engaged to Jill Cooper about a thousand years ago.”

  The expression of shock on Blaze’s face was beautiful to behold, as Karah Lee would put it. Finally, a good gut reaction.

  “Our Jill Cooper? Nurse Jill Cooper?”

  “Yeah, I know, doctor-nurse romance, it’s a cliché and all that.”

  “But when?”

  “Back when they were young.”

  “Whoa. You’re right. A thousand years ago.” He shook his head, still stunned. “Is it going to be a problem with them? Jill’s been awfully quiet, but I thought it was because she was upset about Edith.”

  “He’s divorced.” As soon as Fawn said it, she knew she shouldn’t have sounded quite so excited about that.

  Blaze’s eyes narrowed. “So?”

  Fawn trailed her fingers in the water as she gazed back toward town. “Jill never got married.”

  “She isn’t the marrying kind,” Blaze said.

  “Maybe she is, but she’s just been pining for Rex all these years.”

  Blaze snorted. “She’s never even been out on a date since I’ve known her.”

  “She went out with the deputy sheriff.”

  Another snort. “Tom? That wasn’t a date, that was fishing. She knows all the best fishing holes.”

  “Anyway, that doesn’t mean anything, Blaze Farmer. You’ve never been out on a date, either, but I see you watching Simone all the time.”

  His skin was too dark to show a blush well, but she could see she’d made a direct hit.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jill watched her former schoolmates eat, unable to pick up her own fork as grief enveloped her once more.

  What was she doing here with these three women? Yes, they had been her friends in school, but that had been a lifetime ago. Were they even the same people they had been then?

  At a pointed look from Doris, Jill finally picked up her utensils and sliced a piece of grilled steak. Tough grilled steak. Why was she not surprised? This was Doris cooking the food. Why had they allowed this travesty?

  She tasted it.

  Some things didn’t change. Doris never was much good in home-ec cooking classes. Who else could mess up a grilled steak?

  Their basic personalities, which Jill knew were the main feature that drew people to each other, hadn’t changed. Even she hadn’t changed that much. She was still a worrier, and her friends still considered her to be overly fussy, judging by their response to the perfectly shaped, beautifully displayed seedless melon balls that decorated the center of the table, drizzled with balsamic reduction sauce that perfectly complemented the fruit. These women had no taste.

  Though Doris still couldn’t cook, she had always had an aptitude for computers. Now she utilized her skills with a company that paid her very well for her expertise.

  Peggy was still a consummate diplomat in any crowd, always the peacemaker. She had always had more friends than she knew what to do with. She’d grown up on a farm, and she still lived on a farm of sorts—though now she and her husband owned a thousand acres populated with longhorn cattle. They were most likely happy, well-balanced longhorns.

  Sherry still loved to portray herself as a social butterfly without a brain in her head, when, in fact, she was one of the best tax attorneys in Springfield—she’d always been a math whiz.

  Jill took a generous serving of salad and melon balls, hoping Doris wouldn’t be hurt when the plate-sized steak was pushed aside in favor of edible food.

  At a look from Doris, however, Jill decided to double her efforts. Good friends endured a lot for good friends. Maybe a sharper steak knife—

  She remembered, suddenly, that some people did change. She recalled what Sherry had said earlier about Mary.

  “Doris, weren’t you and Mary Larson good friends in high school?” she asked.

  Doris poured a generous helping of the balsamic reduction on her steak. Jill bit her tongue to keep from protesting. That was meant for the melon balls.

  “For a while,” Doris said, “we lived on adjoining farms. She and I rode our bikes to the cemetery every Halloween and hid behind the tallest tombstones until trick-or-treaters drove past, then we’d jump out with pillow cases over our heads, screaming at the tops of our lungs. Those cars threw some gravel.”

  “You were so ornery!” Peggy said with a giggle.

  “It was more fun than begging for free candy.”

  Sherry rolled her eyes. “These days you’d be sued for causing post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  “Blame Mary, it was her idea.”

  “So would you say she was, at one time, fun-loving?” Jill asked. “Friendly? Interesting to be around?”

  Doris nodded somewhat distractedly as she wrestled with her steak. Next time they would have their dinner catered. This was ridiculous.

  “That isn’t how I remember her,” S
herry said. “I think she flipped out when we were in eleventh grade. She got cranky with the teachers, nearly took my head off when I was nominated homecoming attendant after all Jed’s efforts to convince his friends to vote for her.”

  “I just took for granted part of that was because she was overlooked as chem lab assistant in favor of Chet,” Peggy said.

  “No, because he wasn’t assistant until our senior year,” Doris said. “Remember?”

  For a long moment, their movements slowed to a thoughtful stillness.

  “You don’t think Mary was the one who played that practical joke on Chet, do you?” Doris asked. “In retaliation?”

  “I still think Jed and his buddies did it for her.” Sherry said. “You know, the good-ole-boy hero complex was always alive and well in Hideaway.”

  “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Peggy said. “Whatever happened is far in the past; it was a tragic accident, and nothing can be done about it now.”

  “And Mary is a bitter old woman at the age of forty-five,” Sherry said.

  “Which could be the result of guilt over an unfortunate accident,” Doris suggested.

  Jill attacked the steak once more. “I wouldn’t say old, but she’s aged, and she never smiles. She works part-time at my sister’s new spa. Her daughter works there full-time.”

  “Noelle has a spa now?” Doris exclaimed. “Jill, I’m so proud of her. You sure had your hands full with that little girl when she was growing up. Sounds like you did a great job.”

  Peggy looked up from her knife-mangled steak. “I bet I know when it happened.”

  “When what happened?” Doris asked. “Noelle was always a wild—”

  “Focus, Doris,” Peggy said. “What were we talking about earlier? You know, the worst date photos? Sherry’s right. Do you remember ever seeing Mary Larson smiling after that prom night?”

  “Or ever hear her speak a kind word to anyone?” Sherry asked.

  “I wonder if she ever picked up her school records?” Peggy asked.

  “No,” Jill said.

  Again, all eyes focused on her.

  “I have them. And some other students’, too. Edith’s nephew brought them to me the day of her funeral.”