8 Sandpiper Way
Page 16

In retrospect, of course, it seemed completely logical. Cal and Vicki shared a passion for horses that had brought them together, a passion more intense than his feelings for Linnette.
“I can only imagine how Corrie’s going to react,” Grace said. “Remember how upset she was when she found out Linnette was leaving town?”
“I would’ve been upset, too.” Olivia sympathized with Corrie.
“The reason Linnette left was so she wouldn’t run into Cal. She didn’t want to see him, especially with Vicki,” Grace added.
“And now Cal leaves the area anyway. Vicki, too.”
“It’s hard to look people in the face when you’ve been humiliated,” Grace said quietly. “I know that from experience.”
Olivia shook her head. “So, when are they going?”
“Soon. It puts Cliff in a difficult position. He’s going to be shorthanded until January, when he can hire someone else.”
“Will he be able to manage?”
“I guess so.” Grace shrugged and sipped her tea. “We’d already agreed to house the animals for the live Nativity scene, but Cliff doesn’t seem worried about that. I told him I’d do what I could to help.”
“So Cal’s leaving before Christmas.”
Grace nodded. “Apparently Vicki’s sold her share of the practice and they’re ready to go.”
“I suppose Cedar Cove will get a new vet.”
“It seems that way,” Grace said. “From what Cliff said, Cal and Vicki are going to California, where Vicki has family, and they’ll be married there.”
“I wish them the best,” Olivia said. She also wished Linnette hadn’t been hurt, but it was too late to avoid that now.
Corrie had told her Linnette was seeing someone in the small North Dakota town where she’d ended up. She seemed to be happy, according to her mother, and Olivia certainly hoped that was the case.
“What’s that?” Grace asked suddenly, sitting up straighter and staring at the floor behind Olivia.
“What’s what?” Olivia echoed, glancing over her shoulder.
Grace stood and walked over to the kitchen sink. There, lying on the mat, was a man’s wristwatch. “This,” she said, picking it up.
“Oh, Pastor Flemming’s lost his watch.” Olivia might not have recognized it if the same thing hadn’t happened earlier.
“Pastor Flemming?” Grace frowned, studying the back of the watch. “That’s not the name inscribed here. It says, ‘Micah Evans. June 23, 1977 for Thirty Years of Loyal Service.’”
“Micah Evans must be some relative,” Olivia speculated. He’d been concerned about losing the watch when it fell off his wrist the first time. It obviously held some emotional significance for him.
Grace continued to frown. “Evans…Evans,” she repeated slowly. “For some reason, that name sticks in my mind.”
“It doesn’t in mine,” Olivia said. “I’d better call to tell him I have his watch, otherwise he’ll wonder.” He’d behaved oddly and seemed almost sorry that she’d seen it. “There appears to be something wrong with the clasp.”
Olivia pulled the telephone directory from the kitchen drawer and set it on the counter, opening it to the Fs.
“Are you calling the church office?” Grace asked as Olivia scanned the listings.
“I thought I’d try his house first,” Olivia said. “He said he’d be out all day. If I contact the church office, he won’t get the message until tomorrow morning, if then. I’ll get in touch with his wife. Let me see. Flemming, D. 8 Sandpiper Way.”
Olivia punched in the number, and Emily Flemming answered on the second ring.
“Dave’s gold watch?” she said when Olivia had identified herself and explained why she was calling.
“Yes, it fell off his wrist while he was here visiting.”
“Oh.” The pastor’s wife sounded tearful.
“I just found it,” Olivia said, “or I would’ve called before.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” Emily Flemming whispered. “Goodbye.”
Olivia hung up the phone with the oddest sensation. “Something isn’t right between Dave and Emily Flemming,” she announced.
“What makes you say that?”
“I’m not sure. Intuition, I guess.” She clapped the phone book shut. “But mark my words, that relationship is in trouble.”
Twelve
Emily Flemming hung up the phone after her conversation with Judge Griffin and for a long moment didn’t move. She bit her lower lip hard enough to taste her own blood. The news about the lost watch bothered her, but that wasn’t the most upsetting detail.
Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn’t moved.
“Mom!” The front door opened and Matthew slammed into the house. “I’m home,” he yelled. His backpack slid from his shoulders and fell unceremoniously to the kitchen floor.
The door opened again as Mark came rushing in. “What’s for snack?” he demanded, following Matthew into the kitchen.
Generally Emily had something ready for her sons as soon as they got home. Heartsick, she’d forgotten.
She reached for two napkins and the large plastic barrel of pretzels she’d bought earlier in the month at Costco.
“Pretzels,” Mark whined. “Why can’t we have cookies?”
“Because cookies aren’t good for you, stupid,” Matthew muttered.
When Emily didn’t instantly protest, Mark did. “Mom! Matthew called me stupid.”
“Don’t do it again,” she said halfheartedly. She set the napkins on the table and poured a pile of pretzels onto each. The juice she gave them was a special treat; it came in small boxes complete with their own straws.
“What time will Dad be home?” Mark asked, then stuffed his mouth full of pretzels.
“I…I’m not sure.”
“What’s for dinner?” Matthew wanted to know.
Emily glanced over at the stove. When the phone rang she’d been assembling a large pan of lasagna. After speaking to Judge Griffin, she’d gotten sidetracked. The sauce had cooled on the stove as she’d stood by the phone, trying to understand what she’d learned. This shouldn’t be happening, and yet it made a weird kind of sense. It wasn’t as if Emily hadn’t suspected Dave had been lying to her. She’d known all along.
“Mom?” Matthew asked her again. “What’s for dinner?”
“Food, stupid,” Mark said.
“Don’t call your brother stupid,” she returned automatically.
“He called me stupid first.”
Emily would go slowly insane if she had to listen to this constant bickering. “Both of you, to your rooms.” She pointed in the direction of the hallway. They had their own bedrooms since the move to Sandpiper Way, which had been one of the many attractions offered by this house.
“Mom!” Matthew shouted. “We just got home from school.”
“Do your homework!”
“What about study hour?”
“You can do homework then, too.”
“This sucks!” Mark dragged his feet and his backpack down the hallway. She didn’t bother to reproach him for using a word she hated.
Emily waited until her sons were well out of earshot. With her mind in turmoil, she walked over to the telephone and called the church office.
Angel, the secretary, answered right away. “Cedar Cove Methodist,” came her well-modulated voice. “Can I help you?”
“It’s Emily,” she said, trying to sound calm, despite the staccato beating of her heart. “Is Dave there?”
“Oh, hi, Em,” Angel said. “Sorry, he’s been out and about all afternoon. You might want to try his cell. He had it with him when he left the office.”
“He either has it turned off or the battery’s gone dead.” Emily hoped God would forgive her for that lie.
“Can’t reach him then?”
“Right.”
Emily could hear Angel flipping pages of what she assumed must be Dave’s appointment calendar. “It says here that he’s supposed to visit Judge Griffin. She’s home from the hospital now, but I guess you already know that.”
“Is there a time?” she asked.
Angel made a small humming sound. “Four, according to his calendar.”
“Four,” Emily repeated dully. “Four this afternoon?” The secretary’s words confirmed everything she suspected.
“Yup. That’s what it says,” Angel said cheerfully.
“Okay, thanks.” Emily quickly got off the phone. At first she was too numb to think. Then, marching over to the sink, she looked down at the lasagna noodles she’d cooked. Lasagna was one of Dave’s favorite meals. He’d asked her to make it again soon, and like a gullible, simple-minded wife eager to please her husband, she’d happily complied.
Four o’clock.
He’d written down that he’d be visiting Judge Griffin at four this afternoon.
Yet that very morning, Dave had made a point of telling her he’d be home late this evening. Late because he had an appointment with Olivia Lockhart Griffin at six o’clock. Not only that, he’d apparently gone to see her well before the scheduled time of four.
It wasn’t difficult for Emily to surmise what he was doing during those unaccounted for hours.
He was with another woman. Someone he didn’t want her or Angel or anyone in town to know about.
Why else would her husband, the minister, the pastor of their church, lie to his wife?
“Mom?” Matthew stood in the kitchen doorway. “Is everything okay?”
She forced a smile. “Of course. Why not?”
He frowned. “You’ve got a funny look on your face.”
“I do?” She tried to relax. “How would you boys like to go out for dinner tonight?”
Mark joined his brother. “McDonald’s?”
“Sure.” She eyed the sauce cooling on the stove and the pile of grated mozzarella cheese.
“Mom?” Matthew asked when she started running water and turned on the garbage disposal. “What are you doing?”
“I…I ruined dinner,” she said as she dumped the entire pan of sauce down the disposal. It made a disgusting gurgling noise as it ground up the meat, onions, tomatoes and herbs that had been simmering for hours. She followed that with the mozzarella, then painstakingly fed in the wide noodles.
“Mom,” Mark said loudly. “I really like lasagna.”
“I’ll make it again soon,” she promised, but just then it gave her a perverse kind of pleasure to discard the whole meal. Despite the waste—and she knew she’d feel guilty later—she needed the angry satisfaction of doing this. “The three of us are going out to McDonald’s, remember?”
“What about Dad?” Matthew asked.
“He can fend for himself.”
“But…”