Part 5 (2/2)
”Did the boys see the car, too?”
”Brody did. I'm not sure about Caleb.”
Jawarski nodded, made a note, and slipped the notebook into his pocket again.
”You're not going to talk to them, are you?” I asked.
”Why not? If they corroborate what you've told me, Hendrix will have to back off.”
”Yeah, and Elizabeth will pull the boys off the team. You know how protective she is. She's already talking about keeping them home, but the boys will be devastated if she does. Please don't drag them into this.”
Jawarski looked at me for a moment, then shook his head. ”If you say so, but I doubt Hendrix is going to believe that you're innocent just because you say so.”
”I'll take my chances.”
”Fine,” he said with an exasperated shake of his head. ”You want to show me that metal strip?”
He didn't agree with my decision, but I didn't care. With Brody working his way toward the starting lineup and Caleb trying to prove he wasn't a sissy, getting yanked off the team by a concerned mother was the last thing either of them needed.
The door opened, admitting two women into the shop, and I seized the opportunity to cut our conversation short. ”Love to,” I said, ”but it looks like I'm going to have to work.” I ducked into the kitchen, grabbed my keys, and tossed them to Jawarski. ”I didn't have anything to pick it up with, but I tried to only touch it on the edges in case somebody left fingerprints.”
The corners of his mouth lifted again, and before I knew what he was thinking, he leaned across the counter and kissed me soundly. ”Well, at least there's one good thing that came from all of this,” he said with a wink, ”if you saw the guy with the limp, at least we know he's okay.”
Chapter 11.
Jawarski made off with the piece of metal, and Karen came through the door two minutes later. She seemed to be in an unusually good mood, and for some reason that grated up against the irritation I'd been feeling since Jawarski told me about Kerry's accusation. I didn't get a chance to ask why she was so happy until much later-after we'd waited on the customers who'd come in while I was talking to Jawarski and then ridden herd on a group of teenagers who stampeded into the shop a few minutes later.
When the last of the kids finally straggled out of the store, I pulled out the toffee bin so I could replenish the sample tray and checked to make sure Karen was still grinning.
She was.
”You're in an awfully good mood,” I observed casually. ”What's up? You and Sergio have time for a quick roll in the hay this morning?”
Karen laughed and shook her head. ”Are you kidding? It's Sunday. He was still asleep when I left.”
Conjuring up an image of Hendrix's face, I broke a slab of brittle into small pieces. It felt so good, I smashed another, and then rewarded myself by popping a piece into my mouth.
The b.u.t.tery toffee filled my senses and made the world seem a little brighter.
”Well, something's got you grinning like the Ches.h.i.+re Cat. What's going on?”
Karen bent to pick up a couple of napkins the kids had dropped on the floor and with a shrug, tossed the napkins into the trash. ”I've found our new clerk. She'll be starting tomorrow morning.”
I frowned slightly. ”You found someone already? It's not one of the cousins, is it?”
Karen shook her head and started toward the small room on the other side of the shop. ”No, it's not one of the cousins.” She fluttered a dismissive hand over one shoulder as she walked, and stopped in the archway to look back at me. ”It's actually someone who used to live here. She's come back, and she needs a job. She called yesterday after you left, so I had her come in for an interview.”
”Do I know her?”
”I don't know. Her name's Liberty Parker.”
The name didn't ring any bells, but with a name like Liberty, it seemed likely that she'd been born in the mid- seventies, which would make her . . . a few years younger than me. She'd probably been way below my teenage radar screen. ”What do you know about her?”
”Not much,” Karen admitted. ”Just, like I said, that she's back in town, and she needs work.”
”Did she have references?”
Karen's smile faded a bit. ”I thought you were leaving the choice up to me.”
”I did,” I said with a patient smile. ”Now I'm just asking for a few details. What made you decide to hire her? Does she have experience in retail?”
Karen hesitated ever so slightly before admitting, ”I don't know.”
”You didn't ask her?”
”I didn't think it was necessary,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. ”She'll be fine. Trust me.”
”I do trust you,” I said, my patience slipping a bit, ”but Divinity's a small shop. Whoever we hire is going to have a key to the shop and access to all our money. Please tell me you asked at least a few questions when you interviewed her.”
Karen's chin jacked up another notch or two. ”I asked plenty of questions.” Her voice snapped like taut wire. ”n.o.body comes with a guarantee, Abby. I've talked to Liberty, and I think she'll work out just great. If my judgment isn't enough for you, maybe you should just do everything yourself.”
I pride myself on being relatively smart-at least smart enough not to alienate the only person standing between me and failure in the candy business. It wasn't easy, but I slicked on a smile and poured bits of pummeled toffee into the sample tray. ”I'm sure Liberty will be fine,” I said, hoping I sounded as if I meant it. ”I can't wait to meet her.”
I thought Jawarski might call that evening to tell me what he'd found out about the metal strip, but I thought wrong. Max and I ended up sharing a bowl of candied popcorn while we watched a broadcast version of My Big, Fat Greek Wedding on TV, then going to bed depressingly early.
Next morning, I woke with the sun to find that a cold front had settled into the valley overnight. I pulled on a thick sweater and even thicker socks, then set off with Max for our morning walk. I had a lot to do that morning, and I wanted to get an early start.
A few minutes after eight, I let myself into the shop and got started making three dozen candy cornucopia centerpieces Richie Bellieu and Dylan Wagstaff had ordered for a dinner party the following week. Richie and Dylan were good customers, but they were also friends. Jawarski and I had both been invited to their dinner party, and I wanted the centerpieces to be special.
I dug out the grapevine cornucopia baskets I'd ordered from an online supplier and packed one with fruit drops in autumn-colored wrappers, dark and milk chocolate autumn leaves in colorful foil, and red, yellow, orange, green, and purple jelly candies wrapped in clear cellophane to let their colors s.h.i.+ne through. I added molded milk chocolate b.a.l.l.s filled with caramel and carefully positioned several small packets of Autumn Mix Jelly Beans.
Satisfied with the mix of color and texture, I wedged one of the large orange, yellow, and white swirled lollipops I'd made the previous week, positioned a few silk leaves, and voila! instant horn of plenty. If you called an hour and a half ”instant.”
Twice in the s.p.a.ce of an hour, the phone had rung with people calling in response to the want ad. Resisting the urge to take down their names and keep them as backup, I told both callers that the position had been filled.
Figuring I still had half an hour until the shop opened, I reached into the cupboard for ribbon. When I heard a knock on the front door, I dropped the roll on the floor and watched the satin make an autumn-colored trail across the floor.
Had I lost track of time? I checked the clock on the wall, but it was only a few minutes past nine thirty. Whoever it was could wait.
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