The Red Hat Society's Acting Their Age (3 page)

“Well, I hope her foster parents get good news soon,” Aggie said, placing another centerpiece on a table.

“I’m afraid she’s not their worry now. Seems this thing with Mack and Jesse makes for the kid’s third strike. Strike one was also shoplifting. Strike two was an MIP.”

Aggie frowned. “MIP?”

“Minor in possession of alcohol,” Leanne answered before Cade had a chance, and Mia noticed that she suddenly looked pale.

“Heavens.” Alarm rang in Aggie’s voice. “And the girl’s only fourteen?”

Cade nodded. “Once I catch her and haul her back to Amarillo, she’ll most likely be looking at time in a juvenile placement facility.”

He sounded as disturbed over the girl’s situation as Mia felt. The child had no real family to lean on, to offer guidance and love and unconditional acceptance.
Fourteen
. The girl’s future should hold limitless possibilities, and yet, right now, what were her choices? A prison for kids, or making it on the streets. Alone.

Give me a chance
.

“I hate to hear that,” Mia said, meeting Leanne’s gaze. Leanne’s nod was so slight, Mia knew she was the only one who saw it.

To avoid Cade’s scrutiny, she went to a cabinet for a box of sugar packets. “Good luck finding her, Cade. We’ll call you first thing if we see anything.”

Cade started to leave when a rustling noise drifted from the back room. Everyone looked toward the swinging doors and Mia held her breath.

“Why don’t you let me see if I can catch that mouse for you?” he asked, pausing at the door.

Mia shook her head. “That’s okay. We already took care of her.”

“Her? You mean to tell me you know the mouse was a female?”

“The little Prada handbag was a dead giveaway,” Aggie quipped, her expression deadpan serious.

“Not to mention the tiny slingback pumps,” Leanne joined in. “Four of them. Hot pink with pointed toes and polka dot bows.”

Aggie’s cheek twitched as she started around the counter. “Cute as pigs’ feet, those shoes.”

Despite the awkwardness of the silly conversation, Mia was glad to hear Aggie sounding more like her fun-loving self again. And glad to know that Leanne had relented and was going to help them buy the girl some time. “The rolls, Aggie,” she said, with a nod toward the kitchen when the oven timer sounded.

Leanne looked from Cade to Mia and said, “I’ll help you, Ag.”

When the two women left, Mia met Cade’s gaze straight-on and steady, despite the fact her insides flip-flopped like a beached fish. She wasn’t used to lying and hated doing so now. But she kept hearing the young girl’s plea, kept seeing all those troubled emotions in her eyes. Emotions she’d failed to take seriously enough when her own daughter had displayed them.

The silence stretched on too long. Mia glanced down at Cade’s boots and the melted puddle of snow around them. “Look at my clean floor,” she scolded, just to make noise. “I know good and well your mother taught you to wipe your feet before you come into a room.”

He lifted one foot, then the other, using the soles of his boots to swipe unproductively at the dirty water. “Sorry about that. Show me to a mop and I’ll clean it up.”

“I’m teasing you. No use fighting puddles on a day like today.”

Cade shot her an arrow-straight stare from beneath the brim of his Stetson. “You’ll tell me if anything out of the ordinary comes up, right, Mia?”

The question seemed a command rather than a request. For once, Mia saw more in his expression than flirtation; she saw suspicion. She drew a silent breath, released it, smiled. “Of course I will, Sheriff. You’ll be the first to know.”

Nodding once, he turned toward the door then looked back at her, his eyes sparkling with sudden amusement. “How long have we known each other?”

“I’m not sure.” Mia shrugged. “When did you move here? Junior High?”

“Seventh grade. Sat behind you in Miss Goforth’s history class, remember?” One corner of his mouth curved up. “I do. Every day for the better part of nine months I wished I could get up the nerve to call you.”

Heat crept into her cheeks. “You never told me that.”

“Now you know.” He grinned.

“Well if you’re trying to make me feel sorry for you, forget it. You got over me. By the time we got to high school, anyway. Sophomore year, I remember you asking to borrow my Carole King “Tapestry” eight-track right after you got your driver’s license. You wanted to take Lynnette Byers to Cooper Lake and make out.”

“I did?”

“If you want to play innocent, do it with someone who didn’t know you back then.” She tilted her head. “As I recall, somebody told you that Carole King’s music really put girls in the mood.”

His grin broadened. “Now that you mention it, I do remember. You loaned that tape to me, too.”

“And you never gave it back. So, I’m guessing it must’ve worked.”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“No comment.” Cade laughed again, assessing her. “See? That’s my point. We share a lot of memories. By my count, we’ve known each other thirty-eight years, give or take.”

“That sounds right to me.”

“So, since when did you stop calling me Cade and start calling me Sheriff?”

Something fluttered at the base of Mia’s throat. “Since you were first elected, I guess.”

He shook his head. “That was more than five years ago. It’s only been in the last few months you started being so formal.”

“Have I? I guess I didn’t notice.”

Cade opened the door then closed it and returned to where she stood, reaching an arm around her.

Startled, she stiffened. He had never touched her before. No man had since Dan.

Cade’s hand brushed her back, just beneath her shoulder blade, then came away quickly. He lifted his hand. Icing covered his forefinger. He brought it to his mouth, his smiling eyes on hers. “Lots of icing,” he said in a low voice. “Just the way I like it.” Then he left the shop.

And left Mia breathless.

She locked the door.

When Mia returned to the kitchen, the back door stood open and Leanne was nowhere in sight. The runaway sat on a stool in front of the center island work counter. Aggie served her a coffee mug full of milk and a warm sweet roll fresh off the first pan pulled from the oven.

“Mia, meet Rachel,” Aggie crooned, smiling at their uninvited guest. “She’s starved to death, poor thing.”

“Hi, Rachel.”

Rachel took a huge bite of the roll. With a full mouth, she mumbled, “Hey.” She didn’t look up from the plate.

“Where’s Leanne?” Mia asked.

Shaking her head and looking frustrated, Aggie answered, “Outside smoking.”

“I thought she quit?”

“I did.” Leanne entered through the back door, shut it then lifted the cigarette pack for Mia to see. “I took this away from our new friend. Little thief stole it from my coat pocket. Anyway, New Year’s resolutions are meant to be broken.” Leanne walked to where her coat hung and returned the pack to her pocket. “Anyway, that was last week. Before our little packrat showed up and you turned me into an aider and abettor of fugitives.”

Rachel glanced back at her. “I really like your coat.”

“And my cigarettes, too, apparently.” Leanne shifted her scowl from Rachel to Mia. “What in the
hell
do you think you’re doing?”

“
Leanne
.” With widened eyes, Aggie tilted her head toward the girl and hissed, “Your language.”

Smirking, Leanne said, “Look at her.” She walked toward the others and nodded at Rachel. “Doesn’t impress me as the type to be shocked by an off-color word. You shocked, packrat?”

Chewing, Rachel pointed at Leanne’s coat. “If I say ‘yes,’ will you let me borrow that?”

“’Fraid not, but nice try.” Leanne looked pointedly at Mia. “So?”

Dragging another stool up to the island, Mia sat across from Rachel. “I’d like to hear what she has to say.”

The girl took another bite and met Mia’s gaze before averting her eyes.

“So, what do you have to say, Rachel? Why should we give you a chance?”

Rachel gulped her milk then lowered the mug. “If I go back, they’ll lock me up.”

“Do you deserve to be locked up?”

In answer, she crossed her arms, leaned her messy head back, and stared at the ceiling.

“Sheriff Sloan said you steal things. Is that true?”

“I just told you she swiped my cigarettes,” Leanne scoffed. “And I looked in her backpack. Everything Cade mentioned is there. The food. The boots. And she broke into here. What more answer do you need?”

Defiance flared in Rachel’s eyes. A crumb clung to one corner of her lower lip. Two bright pink dots of color bloomed high on her cheeks. “I didn’t break in. You don’t lock the back door during the day.”

Aggie smiled smugly at Leanne.

Looking defensive, Leanne headed for the back door she’d failed to lock after her smoke.

“You got in here yesterday before we closed?” Mia asked Rachel.

“I hid in the storage room.”

“How did you slip past us?”

“It was easy,” Rachel said to the ceiling. “Y’all aren’t very observant.”

When Leanne returned from locking the door, Rachel blinked complacent eyes at her and added, “And I only
borrowed
a cigarette. So what?”

“It’s wrong, sugar.” Aggie placed another roll on the plate in front of the girl. “Thou shalt not steal.”

Leanne groaned.

“
Well.
” Aggie tossed back her short steel-gray hair and planted a fist on one rounded hip. “Maybe no one ever taught her the Ten Commandments.”

“Or maybe she snubs her nose at authority to get attention. Am I right, packrat?”

Ignoring both of them, Mia asked, “Why did you run away, Rachel?”

“I don’t know. Just because.”

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

“I hate my school.” With a sniff, Rachel met Mia’s gaze briefly. “I hate my stupid foster parents. I told them I wanted to transfer to a different school this semester. But my foster dad was like, ‘
No, we are NOT getting you a transfer, young lady. And you will NOT skip ONE SINGLE CLASS this semester OR ELSE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND
?’” Rachel’s head jerked left to right, emphasizing each word as she imitated her foster dad’s voice. “And I’m like, ‘
Or else WHAT
?’ And he was all, ‘
Or else you’re not living under my roof anymore. Got it
?’ So, I’m like,
‘Whatever
.’” She shrugged dramatically. “Then my foster mom jumped all over me for getting smart with the butthead, so I left.”

“Sugar,” Aggie scolded, pouring batter into a muffin tin, “That’s no way to speak about your father.”

Rachel huffed. “Ricky Underhill’s not my father.”

“So when you left, you headed here?” Leanne asked.

“Not right away.” The girl pushed her plate to the center of the island then rounded a fist and popped her knuckles. “I didn’t know where to go, so I went back to the house to get my books and go to my stupid school, but they’d locked me out and nobody would answer the door.”

Aggie placed two muffin tins into the top oven then returned to the counter to stir another batch of batter. “Maybe no one was home.”

“I’d only been gone something like ten minutes. I sat on the curb at the end of the block. If they’d left, I would’ve seen them. I knew they kept twenty bucks in the car glove compartment for emergencies, so I took it. Then I grabbed Ricky’s coat from the backseat and left again. For good, this time. I’m through with foster homes. I won’t be someone’s charity case or help them pocket a few extra bucks anymore.”

An image of Rachel knocking at the door of her house while the foster parents sat inside ignoring her stuck in Mia’s mind like a thorn. Cade said the couple reported waking up and discovering Rachel gone. Why would they lie about that?
To avoid admitting the argument they’d had with Rachel and the bad way they handled it, that’s why
.

“What do you mean about helping them make a few extra bucks?” she asked Rachel.

“The Underhills? They only wanted a foster kid for the money the state pays.” Rachel’s voice tightened with anger. “They’re the same as the last family I got dumped with. And the one before that.”

“The other families you’ve lived with only wanted the money, too?” Aggie asked softly.

“Some of them did. Some of them wanted to make themselves feel better by taking in a stray. You know . . . I was their good deed or whatever.”

Mia tilted her head. “Did you ever run away before?”

Rachel shook her head.

“Why this time?”

“No one ever hit me before.”

Aggie gasped and stopped stirring, her wooden spoon poised above the bowl and dripping batter.

Mia’s stomach knotted.

Leanne stepped toward Rachel. “Who hit you?”

“Pam. My foster mom. She was mad at me for talking back to Ricky, so she slapped me.”

Tense silence fell over the room. The girl mentioned the abuse so matter-of-factly. Not a hitch in her voice. Not a blink of her big, dark eyes. As if she was relaying a story about being sent to her room.

Leanne crossed to the island. Then Aggie left her spoon in the bowl and joined them, too. The three women exchanged looks, and Mia noted that Leanne’s tough façade had slipped, revealing the softness she only shared with those closest to her.

“Where were you headed next?” Leanne asked Rachel in a much gentler voice.

“No place.” Pressing her lips together, her expression still devoid of emotion, Rachel looked up at the ceiling again. “Anywhere but there. It doesn’t matter.”

Aggie placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “How’d you get here, sugar? It’s fifty miles from Amarillo to Muddy Creek.”

“Walked partway. Caught a ride with a trucker the rest.”

A memory floated up from the depths of Mia’s mind. A frantic middle-of-the-night phone conversation from almost ten years ago. Christy insisting she was okay, but she wasn’t coming home, the clipped abruptness of her voice not quite hiding her fear.

Blinking away the memory, Mia looked at Leanne and saw that her eyes were also haunted. Leanne glanced away, obviously uncomfortable. Aggie, not as adept at hiding her emotions, peered at Rachel with sad, puppy dog intensity.