Part 22 (1/2)
”Well, Erin's not speaking to me right now, at least not if she can help it. I guess you've been included, as well”
”Mommmm!” Erin almost sounded like a teenager, the word was so angst-ridden.
”I'm sorry you have to stay at your friend's house for a while,” I said.
”Oh, that's okay. I like it over there. We get to watch TV all we want, and Zoe has a Playstation, and her mom gives us donuts for snacks.” She didn't look at her mom, but I could tell she was trying to push her mother's b.u.t.tons.
”Oh. Well. That's good, then,” I said.
Meghan gave me a wry look. ”Go load your backpack, and I'll take you to school,” she told Erin.
Sighing dramatically, Erin slid off the chair and walked toward the stairs, still reading her book.
”Why's she mad at you?” I asked.
”She's not, really. She's mad at her father and her grandmother, but they aren't around. I'm handy. Plus, I'm safe. She can be angry with me and know I'll still love her just the same.”
”Lucky kid.”
”Yeah. Unless I kill her.”
I laughed.
”Will you be here when I get back?” Meghan asked.
I nodded.
”I've canceled all my appointments for today. Starting tomorrow I'm treating everyone in-home for a while-the atmosphere here is off, and I need my mindset to be right in order to give my clients the relaxation they pay me for. Tonight I've got an infant ma.s.sage cla.s.s over at the clinic.”
”Okay. I'll be here when you get back from the school.” ”
I might be a while. I have to talk with them about Richard.
And Grace. Besides the fact that I don't know what they're up to, maybe it'll put them on high alert regarding Erin's safety in general.” Stress leaked through the seams of Meghan's usual aplomb.
”That's fine,” I said. ”But I think Ambrose's overreacting a bit. What happened to me yesterday was just someone taking advantage of an opportunity.”
”Yeah, well, we don't know what kind of 'opportunity' they could decide to take advantage of next time.”
”I'm ready,” Erin said from the doorway.
”Let's get going, then.” Meghan picked up Erin's duffel from the hallway. ”I'll drop this at Zoe's on my way back so you'll have it when you go over there after school.” She looked at me. ”Sorry, that's going to make me even later.”
”That's okay. Stop worrying.”
She shot me a glance that said to shut up, she'd worry if she wanted to.
”Bye, Bug,” I called. The door shut on Erin's farewell.
I dumped my cereal down the sink and heated a bowl of chili from the night before in the microwave. Adding cheese and onions, I took it to my workroom, holding the hot bowl with a dish towel and working my way down the stairs. My body seemed to be loosening up the more I moved around. Maybe I should go run around the block.
Maybe not.
While I slurped chili I checked my website. Two more orders since yesterday morning. I processed the buyers' credit cards, then typed up packing lists and printed them out, taped together two more s.h.i.+pping boxes, and gathered the merchandise to fill the new orders. Now twenty boxes marched down the counter in a neat row, waiting to be packed and weighed before I logged onto the UPS website to complete the labels and prepay s.h.i.+pping. Then to the UPS drop-off counter and they'd be on their way.
This process was simple but not fast. The last week had been anything but run of the mill, and I'd lost a lot of work time. Winding Road bookwork had piled up, my inbox overflowed with unanswered e-mail, the Christmas bazaars loomed, and I hadn't even begun to put together updated product pamphlets. The undone tasks, myriad and insistent, buzzed at the edge of my attention as I packed and invoiced and printed and labeled.
But Walter remained foremost in my mind. Why had someone been creeping around in Walter's house the night Officer Owens discovered me there? If they'd been looking for something, had they found it? If they had, why would they set the fire? For that matter, if they hadn't, why would they set the fire? Was the murderer the same person who burned down Walter's house, or could we be dealing with two nutcases?
That thought accelerated the pounding in my head, which in turn reminded me to find the arnica. I shut down the computer and went into my storeroom. One shelf is devoted to products I custom-make for Meghan to use in her ma.s.sage therapy or that we use for ourselves.
I made the arnica salve by infusing olive oil with dried arnica flowers, either by heating it gently or by letting it sit in a jar in the dark for a month or so. Then I mixed the infused oil with melted beeswax to create a cream. Since shelf life at home wasn't much of an issue (and neither was liability), I didn't even bother with adding antibacterial preservatives like grapefruit seed extract or Vitamin E.
Of course, the one morning I needed a boatload of the stuff, the tiny tin was almost empty. Rooting through an a.s.sortment of jars and bottles, I located the Mason jar full of olive oil and arnica flowers. That would do. Skip the beeswax step and just smear on the infused oil. But when I opened the jar and sniffed, I decided a little lavender oil would mask the dusty cooking-oil smell of the contents, as well as add additional healing properties. I strained and mixed until I had a bottle of concentrated arnica oil from which the gentle scent of Lavandula angustifolia wafted.
On my way through the kitchen I put my bowl in the dishwasher and grabbed a Diet c.o.ke out of the fridge. All my healthy eating was going to h.e.l.l in a handbasket, but that was the least of my worries. I took a shower, hot then cold, and slathered on the arnica oil. I dressed in faded cotton hiking pants and a longsleeved T-s.h.i.+rt, threw on a faded flannel s.h.i.+rt over the top like a jacket. After struggling with my braid for a brief time, my elbow finally won, and I gave up. The phone rang as I finished wrapping a hair band around my ponytail, and I picked up the receiver in the upstairs hallway.
”h.e.l.lo?”
”Sophie Mae?”
”Yes?”
”Barr Ambrose here. I hope I didn't wake you up.”
”Jeez, how long do you think I sleep in?”
”You looked pretty worn out last night.” ”
I feel better this morning. What's up?” I asked.
”Can you come down to the station?”
”Oh, G.o.d. Now what?”
”I need you to file a formal report regarding the truck incident yesterday, and then I want you to show me where it happened.”
”Um, okay. Is this afternoon okay?”