Elizabeth Lynn Casey - Southern Sewing Circle 10 - Wedding Duress (8 page)

“You can try, but I’ll be watchin’ my grandbabies while Jake and Melissa go to a meetin’ ’bout Jake Junior’s
soccer team. There’s no tellin’ whether I’ll be able to hear you over the noise that will be fillin’ my house with all them youngin’s, but we can sure try.” Margaret Louise meandered away from the tree and over to the driver’s side of her station wagon. “Give my love to Milo.”

“I will. And give mine to the kids when you see them.” Holding the still vibrating phone to her ear, she reveled in the smile that accompanied the knowledge that her soon-to-be husband was on the other end. “You have a real knack for knowing when I need to hear your voice, do you know that?”

“Wouldn’t that be always?”

Her smile gave way to a laugh as she tried desperately to come up with a clever retort, but she came up empty. Milo was right. She always needed to hear his voice. “Guess what?”

“You love me?”

“That’s an easy guess . . .”

“You’re counting down the days until we’re finally married? Which, by the way, is ten in case you’re not.”

“Oh, I’m counting, all right . . .” She stepped onto the sidewalk that bordered the front of Waters Hardware and continued walking. “I crossed four out of five things off my wedding prep list this morning.”

“Four out of five?”

“Uh-huh.” She turned right at the end of the block and hurried toward the library, the approaching noon hour signaling the end to her personal time. “I reconfirmed with the minister and told him we’d have our vows to him by Saturday at the latest, Georgina is confident parking at the reception won’t be an issue with any of her neighbors,
Dixie has narrowed down her reading to one of two and I’m confident it will be perfect, and Margaret Louise said she’s only got about sixteen favors to go.”

“Sounds like a productive morning.”

“And I picked up our rings last night—although I didn’t look at mine. I want the next time I see it to be when you slip it onto my finger during the ceremony.”

“Which can’t come soon enough, as far as I’m concerned.” He took a breath then continued, his words quickly confirming his superior listening skills. “So what’s the one item you didn’t get to this morning?”

Her pace instinctively slowed as she stepped onto the grounds of the library and noted the five minutes or so she had left of her morning. “I wanted to give Leona the pillow for Paris.”

“And?”

She wandered over to one of the trio of picnic tables strewn around the grounds and took a seat on the edge of its bench. “I haven’t seen her yet today.”

If he picked up the tension in her voice, he didn’t let on. “Any word on how Beatrice is doing?”

Beatrice . . .

She looked again at her watch. There was no time to check in on the nanny before relieving Nina, but maybe, if she found a quiet moment or two in the second half of the workday . . .

Without waiting for her to answer, Milo continued, his voice taking on an odd tone. “Kellie said something strange during science this morning.”

“Kellie?” she repeated.

“Yeah. The oldest of the three Brady kids.”

“Okay . . .”

“We were experimenting with sound and how it travels. One of the boys in my class asked Kellie if she heard Miss Gracie falling down the steps.”

She sucked in her breath. “Oh no. Did she get upset?”

“I guess, a little. But kids this age are all about the story as much as the emotion, you know? So while the thought of someone falling to their death on the stairs in her home might spawn a number of nightmares in the not too distant future, in class, all she really worried about was answering Timmy’s question as it related to our discussion on sound.”

“So she
did
hear her fall then?”

“She heard Miss Gracie shout, but by the time she went to see what was wrong, it was already too late.”

“How awful.” She took a moment to digest the situation as it related to an eight-year-old little girl and then allowed herself the sigh it demanded. “How frightening to hear someone yell for help and not be able to do anything.”

“But that’s just it. Miss Gracie didn’t yell for help.”

She pulled her gaze away from the moss-draped trees that canopied the picnic table and fixed it, instead, on the stairs she knew she should be starting to climb but couldn’t. Not yet anyway. “Then what did
she
yell?”

“She yelled ‘stop.’”

“Stop?”

“That’s what Kellie said,” Milo confirmed. “I guess Miss Gracie was trying to will her body to do something gravity wouldn’t allow.”

“I guess,” she murmured.

“Hey, art class is over so I better get back to my room and relieve Mrs. Niggle. But I’ll see you tonight, right?”

Tonight . . .

Tonight . . .

“Tori?”

She startled at the sound of her name. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I was just saying I’d see you tonight. At my place, remember? We talked about ordering a pizza around six thirty or seven and maybe watching a movie on TV as a way to detox from all of this last-minute running around we’ve been doing.”

“No, I remember.” She scooted her purse back onto her shoulder and stood, the beginning chimes of the town square’s midday bell propelling her feet toward the front steps of the library and the co-worker that was no doubt eager for Tori’s return. “I just got distracted there for a minute. But trust me, I’m all for the idea of slowing things down for a few hours just so long as the next ten days can still go fast.”

“Stop it! That’s my book!”

“But I wanna look at it, too!”

Tori looked up from the computer screen just as Nina’s quiet voice filled her left ear. “Can I just say how glad I am Lyndon isn’t that age yet?”

She bobbed her head to the left to afford a better view of the tug of war taking place in the middle of the self-help aisle.

One tug toward the dark-haired four-year-old . . .

One tug back toward the slightly lighter-haired three-year-old . . .

One tug toward the dark-haired four-year-old . . .

And finally, a book grab from their mortified mother . . .

“When the two of you start fighting over a book that neither of you have the slightest interest in, it’s time to head home.” The woman slammed the object of her
children’s disagreement down on the closest shelf and then grabbed both boys by the hand. “Let’s go! Now!”

“But what about our cookies from the bakery?” wailed the younger child.

“You should have thought of that before you decided to argue in the middle of the library after I specifically told you to keep quiet.”

Hushed and not so hushed whining accompanied the threesome to the front door before disappearing from the library once and for all. Straightening her shoulders, Nina made her way around the information desk and toward the now vacant aisle and its misplaced book. “And to think I was actually starting to give some thought to the notion of a little brother or sister for Lyndon in the near future.”

Tori pressed save on the notes she was making for the rapidly approaching board meeting and then stretched her arms above her head. “Siblings fight. It’s part of growing up.”

“I get the occasional disagreement, I really do, but when it’s over something that doesn’t matter to either one of them to start with, that’s when I’m not sure I’ll have much patience.” Nina retrieved the offending book from the shelf and held it up for Tori to see. “Because two kids under the age of five really need to argue over who gets to hold a book about finding your inner spirit.”

“They were probably just tired.” Tori peeked up at the clock above the front door and let out a sigh of relief. “Looks like it’s time to call it a day. So what’s your evening looking like?”

Nina smoothed her hand over the book’s cover and then placed it on the correct shelf by author’s name.
“Duwayne and I are taking Lyndon over to Duwayne’s mama’s house for dinner.”

“Sounds good. Especially since it means you won’t have to cook after being here all day.” She shut the computer down, neatened the stack of scratch paper and bin of pencils utilized by patrons inquiring about specific titles, and slid off the stool she’d inhabited for the past hour. “Milo and I are ordering pizza and watching a movie on TV as a way to chill for a little while. I think we really need a few moments of that before we get into the final week leading up to the wedding.”

“You’re going to be a beautiful bride, Victoria,” Nina mused. “Real beautiful.”

She pushed her stool flush against the counter, smiling as she did. “Thanks, Nina. Rose did an amazing job on the dress, that’s for sure.”

“Are you sure you want Lyndon at the wedding? He’s quite the babbler these days.”

“Yes, I want him there. I want Melissa and Jake’s kids there, too.” Tori emerged from behind the information desk and headed toward the bank of computers designed for public use, shutting off each monitor as she passed. “Thanks for covering for me this morning. I managed to get quite a few things crossed off my list.”

Nina returned to the desk and the wheeled cart that held the half-dozen books that had been returned over the past hour. Grabbing them into a single stack, Tori’s assistant took off around the library, returning each title to its proper home. “It was my pleasure. This whole day has been eerily quiet around here . . . except, of course, for the stop-it boys just now.”

“The stop-it boys?” she echoed in amusement.

“That’s right. And I suspect they have some sisters in our teen book club.”

She laughed. “You mean Dana and Donna Wilkins?”

Nina stopped in the last aisle, widened her eyes, flared her nostrils, and placed her hands on her rounded hips. “‘Didn’t I tell you to stop sitting next to Bobbie?’ . . . ‘I don’t have to stop anything, Donna Sue! He’s my friend, too.’”

“Ah yes, the trials and tribulations of teenage girls.” Tori finished with the computers and then took in the library’s main room in its totality. The straightening she and Nina did throughout the quiet day had made it so a number of their closing tasks were already done. “I think we’re good to go. Why don’t you lock up the front on your way out and I’ll shut things down in the office and let myself out the back way?”

“I’ll do that.” Nina returned to the counter just long enough to retrieve her purse and lunch sack from an interior-facing drawer and then headed toward the front door, keys in hand. “I’ll see you back here tomorrow.”

“See you then, Nina.” She listened for the pair of distinct locking noises in her friend’s wake and then turned in the direction of her office, flipping off the lights in the main room as she went. Once in her office, she collected her own belongings, straightened a few piles she’d made little headway on, and then checked her phone.

No missed calls from Leona or anyone else . . .

“Where are you, Leona?” she whispered. “Why aren’t you returning my calls?”

Scrolling through her contacts once more, she stopped on Leona’s name and pressed dial. Six rings later, she ended the call at the familiar sound of Leona’s recorded voice.

“Okay, Leona, you don’t want to answer my calls?” she muttered en route to the back door and the car she’d left in the lot prior to her many wedding-related tasks that morning. “That’s fine. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

*   *   *

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Tori’s gaze traveled through the windshield and up the front steps of Leona Elkin’s condo. When she reached the front mat, she noted that the previous day’s rolled-up newspaper now had a mate.

Hmmm . . .

Perhaps Leona had simply escaped the sewing circle’s crosshairs and taken a little trip. After all, next to caring for Paris and flirting with uniform-wearing younger men, traveling was among the woman’s favorite pastimes.

Tori moved her field of vision upward, to the windows that faced the front road from the first floor of Leona’s unit. There, she found even more evidence to back up her latest theory on the whereabouts of Leona Elkin, including an utter lack of any discernible light coming through or around the carefully drawn curtains.

She knew she should be irritated that her friend had simply taken off for parts unknown with nary a consideration for those who might worry, but she wasn’t. Not really anyway. If Leona was stomping around a city like Charleston, or sunning herself on one of its nearby beaches, it meant she was okay. And when it came right down to it, it was the not knowing whether Leona was okay that had been eating away at Tori’s last nerve.

A flash of something out of the corner of her eye made
her turn in time to see an unfamiliar male figure taking Leona’s steps two at a time. Surprised, she leaned around the steering wheel for a closer look. In the man’s left hand was a key. Tucked under his right arm was . . .

“Paris?” she gasped.

Sure enough, two long ears peeked out from around the man’s arm and twitched in rapid succession.

“What on earth . . .” The words disappeared into the air as she yanked open her door and stepped onto the pavement. “Excuse me . . . Can I ask what you’re doing with my friend’s rabbit?”

The man turned as he reached the top step, a crop of disheveled sandy blond hair draping itself across his left eye. “You know Leona?”

She pushed the door shut, came around the front of the car, and stopped at the base of the steps. “I know Leona well enough to know she doesn’t go anywhere without that rabbit.”

The lack of any visible movement of his hair as he nodded gave her pause.

Hairspray, perhaps?

Or maybe hair gel?

Shaking the odd side thought from her head, she waited for something that would explain the unexplainable. Beyond, of course, the fact that Paris was being held by an attractive man in his late twenties . . .

“I took a bit of a chance letting Paris”—he engaged eye contact with the nose-twitching bunny for a split second—“into the ambulance in the first place, but at least I put my foot down about the emergency room.”

“Emergency room?” she repeated. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

He repositioned Paris inside the crook of his arm and peered down at the papers by his feet. “Damn. I knew I should have tried to get over here yesterday but I was too busy keeping up with Leona’s instructions.” An ineffectual rake of his key-holding hand through his hair confirmed her earlier suspicions. “I had no idea looking after a bunny could be so all-consuming, you know?”

“Stop! Go back to the emergency room part. Please.”

“Can I just bring her inside first and get her one of the treats Leona is insisting I give her before bed tonight?” Without waiting for her answer, the young man inserted the key in the lock and pushed her friend’s front door wide open. “If you’re a friend of Leona’s, I’m sure she’d be fine with you coming inside, too.”

Tori jogged up the stairs and followed him into Leona’s front entryway. “The treats are in there,” she said, pointing into the rarely used kitchen. “Leona keeps them in the third drawer down, to the right of the fridge. Underneath the pile of take-out menus.”

When he located the bag of bunny treats, he pulled out a few choice morsels and held them out for Paris to sniff and nibble, the animal’s wide eyes a near-perfect match to the confusion Tori still felt. “Okay, she’s had her treat. Now where is Leona? And why do you have Paris?”

“My partner and I got the call about her fall while we were playing cards at the station Monday night.” He stroked his wide hand down Paris’s back and then leaned over to set her free. “I’m Sam, by the way, and I’m also an EMT in case I didn’t mention that.”

“You didn’t, but go on . . .”

“Leona fell right over there.” Sam took three steps out of the kitchen and waved his hand toward the overturned
throw rug and scattered knickknacks on the far side of the otherwise pristinely kept living room. “I’m guessing she lost her balance on the stationary step she was using to exercise and went down on her left side.”

Paris froze in response to Tori’s gasp, terror making the rabbit’s nose twitch even faster. “Leona fell?”

“She did. But fortunately, she’d been waiting for a call back from some friend of hers and her cell phone was within reach. That’s when she called us.”

“And this happened when?” she asked.

“Monday night. Somewhere between ten and eleven.”

The night of the sewing circle meeting and Miss Gracie’s fall . . .

“You said Leona was waiting for a call back from a friend when this happened?”

“That’s what she said.”

Monday night . . .

Between ten and eleven . . .

If she was remembering correctly, she was probably on the phone with Milo when Leona fell and called for help . . .

“Wait. I think I heard the sirens that night,” she said as two and two began to come together.

“They were blaring, that’s for sure.”

Tori leaned against the nearest wall to offset the sudden weakness in her legs. “Was—was she in a lot of pain?”

“I can’t imagine she wasn’t, but she seemed to do an amazing job of holding it at bay.”

“How is she now?” she asked over the increased thumping in her chest. “And
where
is she now?”

“She’s at Tom’s Creek General at the moment. She was pretty tipsy the first twelve hours or so, but the nurses had
her up and taking a few steps not long after her surgery yesterday.”

“Surgery?”

Sam nodded. “She fractured her hip. Which I could tell almost the second I saw her that first night.” Paris hopped over to his foot and twitched, bringing the story back to her in much the same way Leona would do under similar circumstances. “We were halfway out the door with Leona when I saw this little one hopping after us.”

“And she talked you into taking care of Paris these last few days?”

“No, I
offered
. Leona is an amazing woman. Beautiful, too. Heck, even my roommate who thought I was nuts for looking after Paris changed his tune when I took him to meet Leona. She’s spectacular, you know?”

Despite the throbbing ache near her temples and the nagging guilt associated with learning of Leona’s fall two days too late, Tori couldn’t help but smile.

Leona, Leona, Leona . . . Even in a weakened state, you still know how to turn on the charm . . .

“Quick question, Sam. Do EMTs wear uniforms, by any chance?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“No reason, really.” She shifted her focus to Paris and lifted the small rabbit into her arms. “I can take this one home with me if that would be easier.”

Sam’s face lit up with unrestrained hope. “Seriously? Wow, that would be awesome. I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to help Leona out, ’cause I do, but, well, I’m getting ready to start the next of three twelve-hour rotations tonight and I kinda get the sense Paris is used to company.”