Simple Secrets (The Harmony Series 1) (22 page)

I smiled. “We’ll talk.”

Sam started the truck. As we pulled out in the street, I noticed someone near the entrance of the café staring at us.

Mary Whittenbauer stood with her arms folded, her expression full of naked anger. If looks could kill, I’d be breathing my last.

Sam’s attention was focused on a passing horse pulling a buggy. In his attempt not to startle the horse, he missed seeing Mary. As we drove by, she and I locked eyes. And what I saw there gave me chills that even a warm day like today couldn’t drive away.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s that obvious?” I couldn’t remember anyone ever hating me with the kind of passion I’d witnessed on Mary’s face. The experience shook me to my core. “Mary was standing outside the café. She saw you kiss me.”

“Oh great,” he mumbled.

“Maybe the next time you decide to get romantic, you shouldn’t do it right in front of your girlfriend.”

He gave me a withering look. “First of all, Mary isn’t my girlfriend. To be honest, right now, she’s not even my friend. Secondly, I’d like to draw attention to your use of the words ‘next time.’ I assume that means there will be a ‘next time’?”

Before speaking I carefully measured my words. “It would be dishonest of me to say that I don’t want you to kiss me again. But besides trying to stay focused on the business at hand, we’ve got to remember that I’ll only be here two weeks. Do you really see any kind of a future for us?”

“You make it sound impossible—as if we’re both immovable.”

“But aren’t we? You have a farm. You can’t leave it—or Sweetie. And I’m a graphic designer.” I waved my hand toward the small businesses lined up along Main Street. “Do you see any advertising firms in Harmony? I have a great job in Wichita that I can’t walk away from. Besides, I’m just not a small town girl. I need the excitement of the city.”

His expression grew pensive, and his lips tightened into a thin line.

I waited for him to say something, but he stayed silent. I stared out the window and watched downtown Harmony pass by me while I tried to drive the picture of Mary’s face out of my head. I’d tried to make peace with her. Of course, I’d also assured her I wasn’t interested in Sam. At the time, I’d meant it. But what she saw today made me look like a liar. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I leave it alone or try once again to soothe her hurt feelings? My last attempt had been a disaster.

I forced myself to think of something else. There wasn’t anything I could do about Mary right now. I tried to focus on the uniqueness of Harmony as we drove down Main Street. I’d never seen a town with so much personality. Every building was painted a different color—and each one had its own design. Whether expressed through brightly colored or plain exteriors, or store names painted with individual flare and imagination, the individual buildings somehow added up to a complete picture. A desire to paint Harmony welled up inside of me. I hadn’t painted anything in a long time—ever since I’d started working for Grant. Perhaps Hannah and I could come down here together. It would be a great way to teach her the mechanics of painting. Not that she hadn’t picked up most of it through pure talent and instinct. The problem was finding the time.

“What did you tell your father?” Sam said, interrupting my thoughts.

“What?”

“Your father. What have you told him?”

I sighed. “I’d just asked him about Glick when Emily interrupted us. I’m sure he’s wondering what’s going on.” We reached Faith Road, and Sam turned the truck toward his house. “You know, it would be helpful if you could get his side of the story.”

“Without spilling the beans?”

He nodded. “I guess I’ll do what I’d originally planned. Just tell him I’ve heard stories about Glick and was wondering if he knew him.”

“You don’t think he’ll find that the least bit suspicious?”

I shrugged. “Why would he? I’ve already brought up other people I’ve met.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t met Jacob Glick.”

I slowly blew air out between pursed lips. “Well, in a way I have. It’s like he’s haunting me.”

“Don’t be silly. People aren’t really haunted by ghosts.”

“Well, he won’t go away, and he follows me wherever I go. What do you call that?”

“Point taken.” Sam pulled into his driveway and parked next to the house. “Listen, I know I need to question Sweetie about Glick, but I can’t just go in there and ask her if he tried to buy her for his wife. Obviously, if he approached her, she didn’t accept his offer.”

“Maybe. Or maybe her father died before she had the chance to act on it.”

Sam vigorously shook his blond head. “I can’t accept that. She would never consider it. I know her. She’s not that kind of person.”

I reached out and took his hand, wrapping my small fingers around his large, strong ones. “Sam, if Sweetie could save
your
life, what would she be willing to do?”

His face took on a stricken look as he considered my question.

“I rest my case,” I said gently. “None of us know what we’d do to protect someone we love. Besides, this happened years ago, and people change.”

“I don’t want her to think I don’t trust her.”

“Why would she think that? We’ll just ask her if she knew Glick. Give her a chance to tell us on her own what we need to know.”

Sam shook his head. “We can’t keep asking everyone about Jacob Glick. It looks weird. We need a cover story.”

The curtains in the front window moved slightly. Sweetie was probably wondering why we hadn’t come inside.

“What if we say we found something of Glick’s and it got us to wondering about him.”

Sam frowned at me. “But that’s a lie.”

“Well, you come up with something better,” I said with exasperation.

His forehead wrinkled in thought. “What about the truth?” he asked after a long pause.

“The truth? What truth? We can’t tell what we actually do know—and we have no idea what we don’t know...”

“Could you repeat that?”

I slapped him lightly on the arm with my free hand. “Seriously, what are you suggesting?”

“That we simply tell people we’ve heard some interesting things about Glick and we’re curious about him.”

“And if someone asks what we’ve heard?”

He smiled angelically. “We say we can’t tell them. That’s the truth.”

I let go of his hand and pushed myself back against the truck door. “You know, that may actually be a rather brilliant idea. People who have nothing to hide will probably accept it as simple curiosity. But someone who had something to do with his death will see us as a ... as a...”

“I think the word you’re searching for is ‘threat.’” Sam rubbed his hand over his face. “Suddenly my brilliant idea doesn’t seem so brilliant.”

“Nonsense. We don’t have a lot of time, and we need to flush out the truth. This could do it.” I grinned at him. “Besides, no one is going to try to hurt us as long as we’re together. You’re a rather intimidating fellow, you know.”

He snorted. “Sure. I can lug around baskets of fruit with the best of them. If it comes down to that...”

“Listen. I think it’s evident that whoever killed Glick did it out of anger. We’re not hunting a serial killer. Sure, someone is trying to keep me quiet, but so far, all they’ve done is steal a letter and plant a stolen vase in Benjamin’s house. If they’d really wanted to harm me, wouldn’t they have done it by now?”

Sam stared at me glumly. “It’s not like I work for CSI or something. And yes, before you ask, I’ve seen
CSI.
Truth is, I’m a simple farmer. I have no idea what the person we’re looking for is capable of. I have every hope that whoever hit Glick on the head with that rock didn’t mean to kill him. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t determined to keep his involvement quiet—and that he’s not willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish that goal.”

“I understand, but after finding out more about Glick, I’m convinced his death was a crime of passion—totally unplanned. I mean, who cooks up a scheme to murder someone out in the open where there could be witnesses? And no one
chooses
a rock as a weapon. It was used because it was handy.”

The curtains in the front window moved again. Sweetie was getting antsy.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve got this all figured out,” Sam said caustically. “But just in case your skills as a profiler are lacking in any way, I think I’ll keep an extra close watch on you.”

I stuck my hand out. “Agreed.”

He shook my hand but didn’t let it go right away. Finally, I pulled it back. “Sweetie’s been watching us ever since we got here. If we don’t get inside, she’ll probably come out and drag us in by our hair.”

As if she’d heard us, the front door flew open, and Sweetie stepped out on the porch. Buddy ran out from behind her. When he saw Sam’s truck, he raced toward us, barking happily.

“I think this is Sweetie’s way of telling us our time is up,” Sam said. “Let’s go. I want to show you something.”

We got out of the truck and headed for the porch where Sweetie stood glaring at us with her hands on her hips. Today’s overalls were cut off at the knee, and she wore a red T-shirt without stains or tears. I fought the urge to ask her if this was her special Sunday outfit.

“’Bout time,” she shouted. “I thought maybe you two was plannin’ to move in there permanently.”

“Well, we would,” Sam said, “but you’d have to bring our food out to the truck, and I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“Wouldn’t inconvenience me none, ’cause I’d let you both starve to death.”

Sam quickly climbed the stairs and pulled his aunt into a big bear hug. “Now, Sweetie. You know you love me too much to let me waste away.”

She pushed him away laughing. “Boy, you are a mess. A really big mess.”

Sam leaned over to pet Buddy, whose joy at welcoming us home caused him to wag his stumpy tail so hard he could barely stay on his feet. “At least someone is glad to see us.” Sam was quickly rewarded with a sloppy kiss.

He clumped back down the stairs. “Grace and I are going down to the lake,” he told his aunt. “We’ll be back in a while.”

She nodded. “Supper at seven. I’m sure you stuffed yourself at Abel Mueller’s house. I’m just makin’ a fruit salad.”

He smiled at her. “Perfect choice, Sweetie. Thank you.”

“Shoot, I was gonna make fruit salad anyway,” she grumbled as she went inside the house.

“I’ve been wondering about the lake,” I said as I followed him around the side of the house. Buddy trotted after us, stopping once in a while to investigate a weed or a patch of dirt. We walked through the orchards. The apples and peaches were visible but still small.

“We’ll start harvesting next month,” Sam said. “It’s a big job. I hire some of the boys in town to help.” He stopped and pointed toward some land to the south of where we stood. “Those are our blackberry and strawberry fields.” He smiled widely. “We have some empty fields on the north. We’re thinking about planting pumpkins.”

“It’s wonderful, Sam.” I could tell he was proud of what he and his aunt had accomplished. The orchards were beautiful. The trees looked strong and healthy and the fields lush and green. I breathed in the scent of wet earth and growing things. It was intoxicating. The city had its smells, too. Unfortunately, they weren’t anything like this.

“The lake is this way.” He pointed toward a row of cottonwood trees that stood about fifty or sixty yards away from the last row of fruit trees.

“Man, if your house is closer to the lake than Benjamin’s, it must be quite a hike from his back door.”

“It is. Ben’s property is bigger than you think.”

We trudged on until we reached the cottonwoods. A worn dirt path wound between them. The tall trees reached toward the sky, their thick gray trunks furrowed with age and nature. Puffs of cottony seeds sailed gently on the air like small dancers in an impromptu spring ballet. The white fibrous masses reminded me of large feathery snowflakes. I stopped in my tracks to watch the magical performance. Sam paused beside me as if he understood my captivation. However, Buddy ran ahead, oblivious to my sudden enchantment. When we finally exited the trees, Sam grabbed my hand and pulled me up next to him. A large azure blue lake lay before us, lined with cottonwoods and wildflowers. The flowers grew unchecked and added splashes of color against the green grasses, creating a soft patchwork blanket that surrounded the clear blue lake. A long dock stretched out before us, the wood aged and ripened by years of sun, rain, and snow. Sam guided me toward it.

“It’s absolutely beautiful here,” I said, awestruck. “I–I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Buddy ran to the end of the dock and sat down, gazing out at the water as if he also found it captivating.

“I love it out here,” Sam said softly. “It’s so peaceful. I come here a lot just to think.”

“If I was going to be in Harmony longer, I’d paint it.”

“Let’s sit here.” He pointed toward the edge of the dock where Buddy waited for us. “I like to take my boots off and dangle my feet in the water.”

I settled down next to Buddy who leaned up against me. We were becoming fast friends. I reached down to untie my shoe, and he quickly kissed me on the cheek. I found the gesture endearing and kissed the top of his head. “Thanks, Buddy. I love you, too,” I whispered.

Sam put his boots and socks behind him, rolled up his jeans, and let his feet dip into the still water of the lake. “Brrr. It’s a little chilly this early in the spring.”

I swished my toe around, creating a small ripple. “You promise fish aren’t going to nibble at my toes?”

His laugh was deep and warm. “I’m not promising anything. But if you catch one, make sure he hangs on until we can pull him out. Sweetie fries a mean catfish.”

“Oh great. I didn’t get a pedicure just to become fish food.”

Sam frowned at me. “A pedicure, huh? You really are a city girl.”

I giggled. “Oh, sorry. How do you country folks do it? File your nails down with a rock?”

He snorted. “Ha, ha. No, we use clippers. Believe it or not, they work just fine.” He held his feet up to show me. “See? My toes don’t look like they should belong to the Wolfman or anything, do they?”