The Red Hat Society's Acting Their Age (9 page)

“You up for it?” Eddie asked.

Leanne looked at him, hesitated then answered, “Not really. I mean, staying over would be nice, but I’m not looking forward to the reunion.” She winced. “Would you mind if I skipped it this year?”

His eyes dulled and the muscle along his jaw line jumped. “Do whatever you want to do, Lea. I don’t care.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, Eddie, but it’s the same thing every time we get together with the old crowd. I get to hear about their kids and they look at me with questions in their eyes.”

“That stopped a long time ago, Lea. They know by now we’re not having kids.”

“They may have stopped asking, but they still wonder why we didn’t.” His irritated look told her she was being paranoid. “I’m not imagining it, Eddie. I was forty-five last time we met and Scott Whitlow’s wife still asked me why we didn’t ever go through with our plans to be foster parents.”

“So what? You don’t have to explain anything to anybody. Besides, things will be different this time. Most of their kids are grown. Hell, Marcus and Bobby are granddaddies now.”

Leanne grimaced. “Oh, boy. You know what that means: baby pictures.”

“Well, I’d rather go without you if you’re going to be all moody and ruin everyone’s good time.”

Eddie tossed his book onto his nightstand and switched off his lamp. Turning away from Leanne, he tugged the blanket over his shoulder.

“Good night,” Leanne murmured to the back of his head. When he didn’t respond, she started to add,
I love you,
but instead she blinked back tears and switched off her lamp, too.

Chapter 7

O
n Saturday morning, Mia didn’t want to leave Rachel alone at the house when she left for work, so the two of them devised a plan. Or rather, Rachel did. The girl had a shifty mind, which made Mia nervous, but in this case, thankful, too. Rachel had spotted several empty boxes in the garage. They’d once been packed with coffee shop supplies. But at five-thirty
A.M.
on January 8th, the largest of the collection sat in the back of Mia’s Tahoe, packed with eighty or so pounds of Rachel Nye.

“You okay back there?” Mia called over her shoulder, as she cruised down her dark, quiet neighborhood street.

“Yeah,” came a muffled reply, followed by a giggle.

Rachel considered the method of transfer from the house to the coffee shop a wild adventure. She was having the time of her life.

But the escapade brought reality crashing down on Mia. Not only did she feel like a criminal, she
was
one. Questions she’d previously ignored raced through her mind. Would a person only be fined if convicted of harboring a fugitive? Or would jail time be the punishment?

She stared ahead at the snowy road, shivered, adjusted the heater vent so that warm air blew directly on her. How many blankets did they give you in jail? Would they allow you to bring your own pillow? She couldn’t sleep without her Beautyrest goose down.

“Why do y’all have to go to work so
early
?” A noisy yawn then a groan emerged from the box. “Who drinks coffee at five-thirty in the morning?”

“I do.” Were prisoners served coffee, Mia wondered? If so, probably only one cup. And instant. She shuddered, then echoed Rachel’s yawn. How would she survive a day on one cup of instant coffee? Mia turned onto Main. “You’re only staying at the shop until Aggie’s ready to leave. I’m afraid you’d get bored stuck in the kitchen all day. Or someone might catch a glimpse of you. Aggie will take you to the house and stay with you there.”

Which undoubtedly meant more speculation for the gossipmongers, courtesy of her neighbor. A tense-sounding Aggie had called last night and relayed Buck Miller’s conversation with Roy. Aggie spending time at the house two days in a row while Mia was at the shop would start Buck’s tongue wagging again, no doubt about it.

“What about Leanne?” Rachel asked.

“We take turns working Saturdays. This is her day off. She has errands to run and a manicure appointment.”

Since it was Saturday, Aggie would only be able to stay at the house a short while. Roy would be home earlier, expecting her to dote on him. Mia made a mental note to call Leanne to see if she could take over when Aggie left. If Leanne couldn’t make it, Mia wasn’t sure what she’d do. In addition to her apprehension about Rachel running off, she had her property to consider. Mia chewed her lower lip. She hadn’t thought to hide her jewelry. Or anything else.

“If it turns out you have to spend some time alone at the house, I don’t have any reason to worry about that, do I, Rachel?” She glanced into the mirror. The box shifted and she heard a knocking noise, as if the girl’s elbow or knee hit against the side.

“
Duh-uh
. I’m only gonna steal all your old-timey records and sell ’em on Ebay.”

Sarcastic little snot. Mia bit back a laugh. For some odd reason, she trusted the girl. That would earn her a “crazy” label from Leanne, but what else could she do? “Get me a good price, okay? They’re antiques,” Mia teased. When she didn’t get a response, she added, “I hope you know I’m kidding. You wouldn’t really sell my stuff, would you?”

“I’m
not
retarded.” Rachel didn’t laugh. “I’m
getting
a
cramp
.” The whine in her voice indicated that her excitement over this little adventure was waning fast.

Mia halted at the intersection stop sign at the same time Aubrey Rickett’s rattletrap truck pulled to the facing sign.

He waved and squinted.

She waved back and, without moving her lips, said, “We’re almost there.” She eased across the intersection. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Mia saw the box tip to one side as Aubrey crept past, eyeing her back window. “Be still,” Mia hissed.

“
Man
. If I have to stay alone at the house, what am I supposed to do? Besides not steal, I mean.”

Okay, she deserved that. She’d thought it, after all. “Read those magazines I saw in your backpack.”

“I’ve already read them a million and one times.”

Mia pulled into the parking lot beside the Brewed Awakening and eased toward the alley. “After the morning rush, before Aggie leaves, I’ll make a quick trip to the grocery and buy you some more. I need to pick up something for supper, anyway.” And it would give her a chance to talk to Mack about whether or not he was seriously considering pressing charges against Rachel. “Leanne and Aggie are coming over again.” She hoped they’d have better luck devising a plan than they had yesterday. “How about tacos? I make great guacamole.”

“Tacos are good. But not guacamole. I don’t eat anything green. Or anything with ‘loaf’ in the name.”

“Like meatloaf?”

Rachel made a gagging sound then said, “Can we have a slumber party?”

Mia chuckled. “With Aggie and Leanne?”

“Yeah. I used to have slumber parties all the time. My mom would make us popcorn and brownies.” She paused for a few moments then added, “And hot chocolate.” Another pause. “Me and my friends? We’d dance and have pillow fights and do each others’ makeup and stuff.”

A slumber party. Mia moved slowly through the alley. She hadn’t hosted one since Christy was in fifth or sixth grade. She hadn’t been a
participant
since her own high school days. “That sounds like fun to me. We’ll see what Aggie and Leanne think.”

The box wobbled and produced a series of knocks and thumps.

Mia parked the Tahoe at the shop’s back door. “We’re here. Remember, you have to stay in the kitchen. And when we open for business, you’ll have to be quiet.”

Another few thumps against the cardboard, an “
ouch
,” then, “Whatever.”

Aggie was ready for them. The back door opened, spilling light into the alley. The older woman stuck out her silver-gray head as Mia climbed from the Tahoe. “Tell me you have a strong, healthy heart, Ag.”

“Strong as an ox. Why?” Before Mia could answer, Aggie peeked into the windows of the vehicle and said, “Where’s—?”

“You’ll see.” She opened the Tahoe’s rear door. “Your back strong, too?”

Aggie looked at the box. Understanding dawned in her expression. She smiled. “Sugar, I’m a farm wife, remember?”

As promised, Mia visited Mack’s Grocery later that morning. The small store buzzed with shoppers, and she recognized all the faces.

Missy Potter, the woman whose tree Aggie toppled day before yesterday, cornered Mia on the toilet paper aisle to ask about Aggie’s mental stability. Apparently, old man Miller told the woman about Aggie bursting into tears at the coffee shop for no particular reason, and also that she’d had to rest at Mia’s yesterday before driving back to the farm. Missy let it be known she thought Aggie’s license should be taken away.

Then Aubrey Ricketts, who Mia was starting to wish had never retired from his thirty-year stint guarding the bank, headed her off just short of the periodicals to tell her about his gout. During the conversation, he asked about the box she’d been hauling in the backseat of her Tahoe on the way to work. He “coulda swore” he “saw the blasted thing move.”

Mia made excuses then made her escape, telling herself she, Leanne, and Aggie must be insane to think they could keep Rachel’s presence in Muddy Creek a secret for long.

Mia tossed a movie magazine into the cart then a
Seventeen
and one called
Fashion Trends
. All requested by Rachel. Then she started for the food aisles. She picked up taco makings, lemonade, popcorn, instant hot chocolate and brownie ingredients. Everything Rachel had mentioned her “mom” providing at previous sleepovers, plus more. If Mia were betting, she’d put money on the probability that Rachel had never in her life had girlfriends over for the night at any of her foster homes. That suspicion twisted her heart. She wanted to make tonight special. An event.

When Rachel invited Aggie to the slumber party earlier, Aggie had squealed like a teenybopper. So Mia had called Leanne and, after a fit of laughter, she agreed to join in. She also relieved Mia by saying she’d come over to sit with Rachel later this afternoon when Aggie left for the farm.

On the hygiene aisle, Mia scanned Mack’s sparse selection of cosmetics and, on impulse, chose a bottle of pale purple nail polish for Rachel. Moving onto the lipstick, she considered fat tubes of fruit-flavored gloss. At Rachel’s age, she had preferred candy apple. And she’d used strawberry-scented shampoo. Recalling Cade’s comment about the scent of her hair back then, Mia smiled. That he’d remember such a thing both amused and flustered her. Of course, as a teenager she probably smelled like a walking fruit market, considering the fact she’d also used coconut hand lotion. No big surprise Cade hadn’t forgotten.

She decided on bubblegum-flavored lip gloss for Rachel. Buying the cosmetics seemed silly, since the girl already had enough makeup stashed in her backpack to open a store of her own. What Rachel
really
needed was a change of clothes, socks and underwear, a coat that fit, another pair of shoes. But those items required that she be along for a fitting. Which meant they’d have to shop somewhere besides Muddy Creek so as not to be caught. Shopping in Amarillo, the closest city of any size, was a risk, too, since Rachel had lived there. Someone might recognize her.

A disturbing realization hit Mia. She had watched the Amarillo news last night and had read the city’s paper. There’d been no mention of Rachel. Nothing. Eddie had written a short piece in
The Muddy Creek Chronicle
, but that was it. Didn’t lost foster kids receive the same attention as those with families?

Mia reversed the cart as an idea crossed her mind. Maybe shopping in Amarillo wouldn’t be that big of a risk, after all. And as for anyone recognizing Rachel . . . Pausing at a display of hair color she’d previously passed by, Mia chose three different shades. Getting rid of Rachel’s distinctive white-blonde, black-rooted hair would drastically alter her appearance. But buying only one color would be a mistake. Rachel possessed definite opinions about everything.

It amazed Mia how quickly the girl had opened up to her, Leanne, and Aggie at their pretend Red Hat meeting. She supposed that Rachel’s history of moving from family to family, and school to school, had made her an expert at adjusting to new people and new situations. Rachel didn’t put on airs. In fact, the only things the least bit artificial about her were her hair color, makeup and her imaginary family background. Those disguises, though, failed to hide the vulnerability underneath, her desire to belong, to be important to someone, accepted. Her pretense of a prior stable home was understandable, but heartbreaking, too. Rachel needed a safe, familiar place where she could retreat, if only in her mind.

On the canned goods aisle, Mack unloaded a crate of green beans. Mia rolled her cart over. “Hi, Mack. I hear you had a little excitement around here the other day.”

He turned away from the shelves and faced her, his bald head gleaming beneath the overhead lights. “You mean the shoplifter?”

Nodding, she said, “The sheriff told me you caught her.”

“Red-handed.” He chuckled. “She was about to slip a jar of peanut butter into her bag. Don’t know where she planned to put it; the thing was already crammed full.”

“Peanut butter, huh? That’s not the sort of thing kids usually steal, is it? She must’ve been hungry.”

“Candy’s usually the item of choice for kids. I think she just hadn’t made it to that aisle yet.”

“So, what else did she take?”

“Pop-Tarts. Cookies. A couple of apples. A jar of grapefruit juice. Stuff like that.”

“Sounds like a kid in trouble to me. Not just out to pull one over on somebody.”

Mack set a can on the shelf behind him then scratched his chin. “Maybe. She was a skinny little thing. She looked scared and lost.”

“When she’s found, you planning to press charges?”

His cheek twitched. “Well, Mia, I hate it, but I feel like I have to. I can’t be giving away merchandise and stay in business.”

Mia smirked at him. “Now, Mack. How many times have you opened a bag of pet food to feed that stray dog that hangs out around here?”

He started to respond then looked beyond her. “Hey there, Sheriff.”