Thirty-Four and a Half Predicaments
Page 16
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“How is it your fault?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I should have given you more cash, but honestly, I never thought you’d have any trouble.”
“I should have just run it through the stupid card reader, but Miss Mildred was harassing me and the boy knocked over the cereal boxes because his mother thought I was a stripper—”
“What?” Then he shook his head, looking aggravated again. “Never mind.” He pushed out a breath. “Rose. It’s okay. It’s this stupid town. Everyone in it seems to be ass-backwards.” And if that didn’t cut me to the quick. He was right, and there was only one reason he was mired here.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you saying sorry now?” He sounded exasperated.
“You’re stuck here because of me.”
He closed his eyes and looked up. When his gaze finally lowered, his face softened. “Sweetheart, I’d follow you to the Arctic tundra if you wanted to live there, but I’d probably still complain about the cold. This is no different. But mostly I hate that so many people in this town treat you so poorly.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
“That’s just it, Rose. It’s not okay.”
“It’s better than it used to be, I promise.”
He looked like he wanted to argue. Instead he groaned and grabbed his phone out of his pocket. “I have to take this. I left in the middle of something important and I need to get back.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Stop saying you’re sorry. I’ll be home as soon as I can, but I suspect I’ll be late.” He glanced at his car and saw Muffy inside. “Do you mind if I drive your truck so I can get back to work sooner?”
“Sure. Of course.”
He gave me a quick kiss and answered his phone as he rushed over to the truck.
I was about to climb into the car when I noticed a folded piece of paper under the windshield wiper. After tugging it out and opening it, I read the tight cursive script:
Stay out of things that don’t concern you.
I read it again in confusion. Not only did I not know who wrote it, I didn’t even know what it was talking about. I hadn’t been mixed up in anyone else’s business since Neely Kate and I had gone looking for her cousin a month ago.
Then it hit me. The note was meant for Mason.
I looked over my shoulder, but Mason was already pulling out of the parking lot. I wasn’t sure what to do. He needed to get back to work. I considered calling Joe, but then I decided to just go home and tell Mason later, and let him decide what to do.
Muffy had seen me and was barking like mad. I opened the door and rubbed her head. “Did you see who put that note on Mason’s car?”
She answered by jumping up on her back legs and licking my nose.
“So you don’t want to tell me. Be that way.”
Of course, I couldn’t discount the possibility the note was for me. The handwriting looked like a woman’s, and for all I knew, Miss Mildred might have put it on the windshield on her way into the store, as unlikely as it seemed. Whenever she’d had something to say to me before, she’d had no compunction about flat out telling me to my face. But as Mason had pointed out only moments before, there were plenty of people in town who didn’t like me. My own momma—or the woman I’d thought to be my mother—had made no secret of her contempt for me as well as her belief that my “gift” was proof I was possessed by a demon. She’d been only too happy to spread the rumors of my strangeness. And there were plenty of other reasons someone might think I was sticking my nose in their business. We’d just reopened the nursery. I was opening the landscaping business with Bruce Wayne. Shoot, for all I knew, the note could be from Ima Jean. She’d made no secret that she was upset that I’d bought the cake for the store’s reopening from Dena’s.
But the most logical conclusion was Mason had ticked off some citizen and she was letting him know. Which meant he really couldn’t let his guard down, despite the fact that Joe and Mason both kept insisting he was safe now.
I stuffed the note into my purse and considered heading to the Peach Orchard grocery store, but rumor had it that the meat department had failed yet another inspection. I could stick to canned goods, but after my recent experience, I wasn’t up for shopping. I was still too upset that I’d once again disturbed Mason at work. I knew he didn’t blame me, but it was ultimately my fault. If only I’d been carrying more cash. If only I hadn’t let Mildred distract me…
If only I could stay out of trouble. Try though I might, trouble seemed to have a knack for following me.
I gave up the shopping idea and drove home, figuring I’d scrounge a meal together from the ingredients we already had. I was lost in thought when a dark sedan approached quickly from behind me, riding close to my bumper. A car whizzed by, going the opposite way on the two-lane road, and as soon as it was a short distance away, the sedan behind me swung around to pass. It didn’t alarm me much—there were plenty of reckless drivers in Henryetta—but as soon as it was next to me, it swerved toward me.
I whipped the wheel to get out of the way, turning sharply toward the shoulder of the road. Gravel flew up all around Mason’s car as I tried to slow down, and then my tire got stuck in a rut, jerking the car further off the road and toward several trees. I swerved just in time to miss the trees, but the car slid through the mud in the grass before coming to a stop.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I should have given you more cash, but honestly, I never thought you’d have any trouble.”
“I should have just run it through the stupid card reader, but Miss Mildred was harassing me and the boy knocked over the cereal boxes because his mother thought I was a stripper—”
“What?” Then he shook his head, looking aggravated again. “Never mind.” He pushed out a breath. “Rose. It’s okay. It’s this stupid town. Everyone in it seems to be ass-backwards.” And if that didn’t cut me to the quick. He was right, and there was only one reason he was mired here.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you saying sorry now?” He sounded exasperated.
“You’re stuck here because of me.”
He closed his eyes and looked up. When his gaze finally lowered, his face softened. “Sweetheart, I’d follow you to the Arctic tundra if you wanted to live there, but I’d probably still complain about the cold. This is no different. But mostly I hate that so many people in this town treat you so poorly.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
“That’s just it, Rose. It’s not okay.”
“It’s better than it used to be, I promise.”
He looked like he wanted to argue. Instead he groaned and grabbed his phone out of his pocket. “I have to take this. I left in the middle of something important and I need to get back.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Stop saying you’re sorry. I’ll be home as soon as I can, but I suspect I’ll be late.” He glanced at his car and saw Muffy inside. “Do you mind if I drive your truck so I can get back to work sooner?”
“Sure. Of course.”
He gave me a quick kiss and answered his phone as he rushed over to the truck.
I was about to climb into the car when I noticed a folded piece of paper under the windshield wiper. After tugging it out and opening it, I read the tight cursive script:
Stay out of things that don’t concern you.
I read it again in confusion. Not only did I not know who wrote it, I didn’t even know what it was talking about. I hadn’t been mixed up in anyone else’s business since Neely Kate and I had gone looking for her cousin a month ago.
Then it hit me. The note was meant for Mason.
I looked over my shoulder, but Mason was already pulling out of the parking lot. I wasn’t sure what to do. He needed to get back to work. I considered calling Joe, but then I decided to just go home and tell Mason later, and let him decide what to do.
Muffy had seen me and was barking like mad. I opened the door and rubbed her head. “Did you see who put that note on Mason’s car?”
She answered by jumping up on her back legs and licking my nose.
“So you don’t want to tell me. Be that way.”
Of course, I couldn’t discount the possibility the note was for me. The handwriting looked like a woman’s, and for all I knew, Miss Mildred might have put it on the windshield on her way into the store, as unlikely as it seemed. Whenever she’d had something to say to me before, she’d had no compunction about flat out telling me to my face. But as Mason had pointed out only moments before, there were plenty of people in town who didn’t like me. My own momma—or the woman I’d thought to be my mother—had made no secret of her contempt for me as well as her belief that my “gift” was proof I was possessed by a demon. She’d been only too happy to spread the rumors of my strangeness. And there were plenty of other reasons someone might think I was sticking my nose in their business. We’d just reopened the nursery. I was opening the landscaping business with Bruce Wayne. Shoot, for all I knew, the note could be from Ima Jean. She’d made no secret that she was upset that I’d bought the cake for the store’s reopening from Dena’s.
But the most logical conclusion was Mason had ticked off some citizen and she was letting him know. Which meant he really couldn’t let his guard down, despite the fact that Joe and Mason both kept insisting he was safe now.
I stuffed the note into my purse and considered heading to the Peach Orchard grocery store, but rumor had it that the meat department had failed yet another inspection. I could stick to canned goods, but after my recent experience, I wasn’t up for shopping. I was still too upset that I’d once again disturbed Mason at work. I knew he didn’t blame me, but it was ultimately my fault. If only I’d been carrying more cash. If only I hadn’t let Mildred distract me…
If only I could stay out of trouble. Try though I might, trouble seemed to have a knack for following me.
I gave up the shopping idea and drove home, figuring I’d scrounge a meal together from the ingredients we already had. I was lost in thought when a dark sedan approached quickly from behind me, riding close to my bumper. A car whizzed by, going the opposite way on the two-lane road, and as soon as it was a short distance away, the sedan behind me swung around to pass. It didn’t alarm me much—there were plenty of reckless drivers in Henryetta—but as soon as it was next to me, it swerved toward me.
I whipped the wheel to get out of the way, turning sharply toward the shoulder of the road. Gravel flew up all around Mason’s car as I tried to slow down, and then my tire got stuck in a rut, jerking the car further off the road and toward several trees. I swerved just in time to miss the trees, but the car slid through the mud in the grass before coming to a stop.
