The Avalon Ladies Scrapbooking Society (34 page)

“Hubert!” Joan Hill looks appalled. “Go inside and get some clothes on!”

“What’s going on?” Hugh demands, stepping onto the porch. “Yvonne, what are you doing here?” His eyes dart toward his mother and then back at her, indicating that it’s not okay that she’s standing there.

Yvonne doesn’t budge. “Getting ready for your busy morning, Hugh? Got a full plate over at Hillshire Plumbing? Family board meeting, maybe?” She glares at him.

“Oh.” Hugh stops as he realizes what’s going on. His face is tight and he lets out a deep breath. “Mother, go inside, please.”

His mother shakes her head. “I told you it was a mistake to get involved,” she mutters.

“Not now,” he says. “I need to talk to Yvonne.”

Joan Hill lifts her chin but walks back into the house, closing the door with a slam.

Hugh grips his towel as he steps forward. “I was going to tell you,” he begins.

Yvonne crosses her arms in front of her chest. “When?”

“Soon. We were having such a great time and I didn’t want to ruin it.” There’s a short pause and then he amends, “For you. I didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

Yvonne turns and heads back to her truck, disgusted. Why do guys do that? Toby follows her, his tongue hanging out, thinking they’re about to go for a ride.

Hugh catches up to her. “Look, I came back a few months ago to help my mother. The company’s been struggling …”

“Yeah, I heard about how you’ve been ‘helping.’ What are you planning to do next, throw a rock through my window?”

Hugh’s face reddens, telling Yvonne that he knew all along. “I’m trying to change all of that. But it’s not easy …”

“Says the CEO.”

“
In title
. I mean, yes, I was given the title when my father died three years ago but it’s strictly a public relations thing. I never wanted to be involved with the family business but I didn’t have a choice. My mom thought I could offer a fresh perspective, and my brothers said I needed to pull my weight with the company …” His voice trails off and he looks frustrated, at a loss. He runs a hand through his hair, which only serves to make him look even more sexy. “I was going to tell you, Yvonne. Really. It was never the right time.”

“That’s a convenient excuse. Next you’ll be telling me you’re married. Or gay.”

“No and no,” Hugh says, then he frowns, straightening up. “Wait. Seriously? Gay?”

Yvonne doesn’t answer, glowering at him instead. “What was I, Hugh? Research?”

Hugh looks so pained, it’s almost comical. “You know that’s not true,” he protests. “I mean, maybe at first, but certainly not now.”

“What about the day we met? When you called me for your plumbing ‘emergency’? Was that some kind of test?”

Hugh shakes his head. “No. Our own guys couldn’t get out until the end of the day and you know I’m hopeless with this stuff. My mother thought it might be a good opportunity to check out the competition.”

“A good opportunity.” Yvonne shakes her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming.” She reaches for her toolbox and pushes past him. She heads back toward the house.

“Wait, where are you going?” Hugh asks in alarm.

“I’m going to get back that flapper I installed for you,” she calls over her shoulder.

“What? You can’t do that! Besides, we paid you for that service.”

“I’ll give you a refund.”

She’s almost at the door when Hugh catches up with her. “Yvonne, stop this! You’re acting like a child!” He grabs her toolbox.

Yvonne tries to wrench it from him, but Hugh is stronger than she realizes. After a fruitless struggle, she gives up and is horrified to feel her eyes wet with tears. “I really liked you, you know,” she finally says.

“I liked you, too. It’s just … my family …” He gives a helpless shrug.

Yvonne waits for him to say more, but he doesn’t. “You’re an adult, Hugh,” she says. “You can make your own choices about your life. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Hugh looks scornful. “You don’t understand.”

They hold the toolbox between them. Yvonne takes a step toward him. “I understand more than you realize,” she begins, but Hugh looks away.

“Yvonne, you’re a plumber,” he says. “And a damn good one.
We’d be lucky to have someone like you in our company. But I lead a different kind of life than the one you lead.” He has his CEO voice on now, one that Yvonne hasn’t heard before. He looks at her almost pityingly. “My life’s not as simple as yours. I wish it was, but it’s not.”

It’s a thinly veiled insult. Yvonne can’t believe she’s hearing this.

“Given what’s happened, I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” he continues, as if he’s doing her some kind of favor. “I didn’t mean for it to get this complicated. I’m thinking we should end it now.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, Hugh,” Yvonne retorts. “I have a feeling thinking isn’t exactly high on your list of to-do items.”

He glares at her, abruptly letting go of the toolbox. The unexpected weight causes the handle to slip from Yvonne’s fingers, and the toolbox crashes onto the porch, bursting open and scattering wrenches and nuts and bolts everywhere. Hugh jumps back as a copper pipe cutter lands dangerously close to his bare feet.

“Hey!” he yells, as if she’d done it on purpose. For a second Yvonne almost wishes she had. Jerk.

She bends down and begins to gather everything, refusing to look at him. All dates should start this way, she thinks, with the arguments and disagreements. Forget the courtship and the butterflies—she’d rather see a person’s true colors up front. It would save everybody time and heartbreak.

Hugh doesn’t offer to help, just waits impatiently. When Yvonne finally snaps her toolbox closed, there’s the sound of a pickup truck coming up the road. Two men are sitting in the front, serious looks on their faces. Even from a distance Yvonne can see that the brothers do in fact share the same nose and chin as Hugh and his mother. “Oh look,” she says. “Company.”

“Just go,” Hugh says, squaring his shoulders as the pickup rolls to a stop. The men jump out, slamming their doors with an air of importance. They’re about the same height as Hugh, but brawnier. Their faces are set as they saunter up the walk. Joan Hill is standing on the other side of the window, phone in hand.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” Yvonne says. She looks at her hands, which are spotted with small grease stains. “Just let me wipe my hands before I go. You won’t be needing this, will you? Thanks.”

And she yanks the towel from around Hugh’s waist as she heads down the walkway to her truck.

Connie comes down the stairs, silver bracelets running up and down her arm. Hannah is in the foyer, talking earnestly with Madeline.

Hannah again. Normally she’d be put out but at the moment Connie doesn’t mind. She just wants to get on her way.

“I have to go and get Serena from the vet,” she tells them. “I won’t be too long.” She checks herself in the mirror, rubs her lips together to make sure her lip gloss still looks good. She’s about to walk out the door when she sees that Madeline and Hannah are looking at her funny. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Madeline begins, casting a nervous look at Hannah. “It looks like all your goat found posters are gone. Someone must have decided to help you out and put them up around town. Hannah saw one at the pharmacy.”

“Clyde Thomas put it right up in the front window,” Hannah says. “You can’t miss it. And I heard people talking and laughing about it at the Pick and Save.” She quickly adds, “In a good way, I mean.”

Connie feels as if she’s been doused with cold water. “Oh,” she says. She looks to the empty spot where the flyers used to be.

“Sweetheart, it was probably going to happen sooner or later,” Madeline says, striding forward and putting an arm around Connie’s shoulder. “We have to find Serena’s owner. We’re not equipped to take care of a goat.”

Connie jerks her head up and down. “Yeah, I know.” But she feels like crying.

“Hannah and I can cover today, so why don’t you get Serena and maybe see if there have been any leads?”

“What if we can’t find her owner?” Connie asks. “Or her owner doesn’t want her?”

Madeline nods, the thought having crossed her mind as well. “I don’t know,” she says honestly. “We won’t be able to keep Serena here, though. Walter Lassiter is going to file a formal complaint next week. Dolores told me this morning. She feels bad, but he has his mind made up. Apparently he’s been keeping notes and building a case against us, or against Serena at least. Even if it turns out we’re free to keep Serena, I’m not so sure she could stay here. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

On the way to the vet’s office, Connie tries to look at the bright side of things, but she can’t.

In all the years that Connie has been on her own, she’s never asked the question that she’s asking herself now. Why her? Why her and not someone else? Why was she the one who had to lose her parents, who had to go to foster homes, who had to work harder than anyone else for the same basic rights for life—food, shelter, freedom—while people all around her never thought twice about it? She’s never begrudged anyone but suddenly she resents everyone, even Madeline.

If Madeline loves Connie like she says she does, she wouldn’t be asking her to give Serena up, would she? She’d try to find a way. How is Serena all that much different than a dog? Like Eli says, there are dogs that are bigger than her.

The vet’s office is crowded when Connie finally walks in. There’s a boy with his turtle, a man with a Jack Russell terrier, and a woman with a cat in a carrier.

The receptionist, Della, frowns when she sees Connie. “Hmmph,” she says with a sniff. “I’ll let Dr. Ballard know you’re here.” She gets up from her chair and marches into one of the examination rooms.

Eli will understand what she’s going through. Connie knows her feelings for Serena don’t make sense to people like Madeline or Hannah or Walter Lassiter, but veterinary medicine is Eli’s field of choice. He knows animals, he loves animals, he’s even had goats. Just like Connie.

Eli sticks his head out of the room. She gives him a bright smile, anxious to see a friendly face, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Come on back, Connie.”

When Connie steps into the room, Eli is sitting on a stool, looking grim. Serena is nowhere to be seen. Connie feels a flash of apprehension.

“Where’s Serena?” she asks. “Is she okay?”

“Oh, she’s fine,” Eli says. “She’s in the back.” He holds up a piece of paper. “This showed up in the office this morning.”

It’s her flyer. Connie swallows. “I made those to see if I could find her owner. I found her wandering around in the park one morning.”

Eli doesn’t say anything, just waits.

“I was coming back from the farmer’s market and there she was, eating some grass by a tree,” Connie continues uneasily. “She followed me home.”

Eli looks at her. “Anything else?”

“She had, uh, a rope tied around her neck, but she had chewed through it.” Connie squirms, discomfited.

“A runaway goat?” Eli suggests wryly.

Why is he looking at her so suspiciously? “Yes,” Connie says. “Something like that. I mean, that’s what I assume.”

“But no one keeps goats in town,” Eli points out. “How did she end up in the park?”

Connie shrugs. “I don’t know. I found her there.”

“You’ve had her since early August?”

“Yes,” Connie says, then she frowns. “How did you know?”

Eli continues as if he hasn’t heard her. “Have you heard of Doherty Farms?”

It sounds familiar, but Connie shakes her head.

“It’s a working farm about forty minutes south of Avalon. They have a petting zoo that’s open to the public, and they do hayrides, birthday parties, that sort of thing. They’ve been around for ages. I used to go there as a kid.”

“That’s nice …” Connie begins, but Eli holds up his hand. He’s not finished.

“Apparently two months ago someone broke into the pens one night and took off with one of the Nubians. Broke some fencing in order to get her.” The look on his face is stern.

Connie stares back at him. “Are you saying that I stole her? From a farm? Why would I do that?”

Eli’s gaze is steady on her. “I don’t know. Did you take her, Connie?”

“No!” Connie can’t believe this. Who would steal a goat, for Pete’s sake? “I made up those signs, after all! Why would I have done that if I’d stolen her?” Her cheeks are hot with indignation.

Eli’s shoulders drop and he looks relieved. “That’s what I told Rayna. She’s pretty upset, though. Serena’s pregnant, you see, and—”

Connie gasps. “Pregnant?”

“She was six weeks when she was taken, so she still has a ways to go—the normal gestation period for a goat is about one hundred fifty days. Still, Rayna was worried.”

“Is she sure Serena is her goat?” Connie asks. “I mean, this is Illinois and there are lots of farms outside of Avalon.”

“Rayna chips all her animals,” Eli says. “So I checked. Found it right by her tailbone, in the tail web. It’s Rayna’s goat, all right. She goes by the name Daffodil.”

“Daffodil?” Connie makes a face. She can’t picture Serena as a Daffodil.

Eli laughs. “I like Serena better, too.”

“So is she okay? Was there anything wrong?”

Eli shakes his head. “No, I think she was just homesick. Goats are herd animals, they’re sociable. They need to be around other goats.”

Connie feels guilty. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been hearing. So she was lonely.”

He nods. Then he adds, “But she checked out fine otherwise. Pregnancy is fine, too. But listen, Connie, you may be in a bit of trouble.”

Connie feels herself getting anxious again. “Why? I didn’t take her.”

“I know, but the fact of the matter is that Serena was taken and right now you’re the only person who knows anything about it. Can anyone verify your story?”

“Yes,” Connie says, nodding vigorously. “My employer, Madeline Davis. She was there when I brought Serena home. And she knows I never go anywhere. She’ll be able to verify that I was home the night before.”

“Just tell that to the police officer and I’m sure they’ll get it straightened out,” Eli says, standing up.

“The police?”

At that moment Della opens the door and points an accusing finger at Connie. “There she is, Officer.”