Evelyn seemed to grow even more interested in the contents of her purse. "And see this?"
she said to Whitney. "These are mints. To freshen our breath."
Whitney beamed at being treated like an adult. "Oh, I'm going to want one of those," she said reverently.
"Mom?" Allie persisted.
Evelyn snapped her purse shut and straightened. "What?"
"Are you and Dad doing okay?"
"Of course." She smiled, but Allie couldn't tell whether it was sincere. "Why do you ask?"
"He's seems a little..."
"Temperamental?"
Allie watched Evelyn closely. "I guess."
"Don't worry." She smoothed back a strand of Whitney's hair. "It's the diet."
"He doesn't like to eat his peas," Whitney confided.
Allie doubted her father was denying himself. From what she could see, he'd actually gained a few pounds. Was her mother afraid to question what was really going on for fear she might find the truth too painful?
If so, Allie certainly didn't want to be the one to inform her. But who else was there?
"I'll see that he finishes his vegetables tonight," she teased and walked them out to the car.
Her mother and daughter waved as they drove off, then Allie began packing for her own trip. She wanted to reach the cabin before it grew dark--and she wanted to leave before her father came home. She hadn't told him she'd be gone, hadn't wanted to invent any excuses.
If she was lucky, he'd assume she'd gone with Evelyn and Whitney.
Allie was on her way out of town when she spotted Grace Montgomery--Grace Archer since the wedding--at the stand she occasionally ran in front of what used to be Evonne Walker's house on the corner of Main Street and Apple Blossom. Since Grace had married Kennedy Archer, she'd taken a sabbatical from working as a lawyer. She preferred to stay home with her stepsons, and certainly didn't need to work for financial reasons. She didn't need to sit at the side of the road selling baked goods, garden produce and handmade items, either. But when Evonne died a year or so earlier, the Walker family had inherited her house and Grace had inherited her special recipes--recipes that were such a tradition in Stillwater, Allie couldn't imagine them disappearing.
Evidently, Grace felt the same way. When the Walkers put the house up for sale, Grace had bought it and was in the process of turning it into a shop that would sell the same things Evonne had made.
Until the improvements were complete, however, she continued to run her stand right there in the front yard, just as Evonne had always done.
Everyone knew it was in tribute to a woman Grace had truly admired. Grace wasn't the only one to miss Evonne. The entire town mourned her.
Kennedy's two boys were with Grace, as usual. They seemed especially close to their new stepmother. Which was a little surprising. Like Clay, Grace could be remote and guarded. Allie had tried to approach her on a number of occasions, but if Kennedy was around, he generally moved to intercept anyone who might corner his wife and make her feel uncomfortable.
Kennedy wasn't around today. So Allie decided to stop. She wanted to get to the cabin as early as possible, but she was also aware of what lay ahead of her on the Barker case. She needed to find some clue, some kernel of truth that would lead her to Barker's real murderer--before the situation spiraled out of control.
She hoped Grace would be the one to provide that kernel of truth.
Parking at the side of the road, she turned off the engine and climbed out.
"Hi, Officer McCormick!" Nine-year-old Teddy, the younger of the two boys, hurried over to meet her. He loved police officers and had once told her he wanted to be a policeman when he grew up.
"Hello, Teddy."
Heath, Teddy's older brother by two years, hovered near the end of the table. "I'll collect your money when you're ready," he announced.
If Allie had her guess, he'd be the one to take over at the bank. "Okay," she said chuckling as she picked up a bar of handmade soap.
Grace was selling two fruit pies to Mrs. Franklin, the wife of a retired pharmacist who'd been an institution in Stillwater since Allie could remember. When Clay's sister glanced up and saw Allie, she didn't seem too pleased.
"These smell good," Allie said to Teddy, stalling for time.
"Those are violet," Teddy told her.
"Lavender," Grace corrected as Mrs. Franklin left.
"They're nice," Allie said.
Heath handed her a wicker basket to hold her purchases, and she set the bar inside, along with some lavender lotion. "Evonne would be proud of the way you've stepped into her shoes," she told Grace. She was sincere in her praise, but that comment didn't start the conversation she was hoping it would.
"Thank you," Grace said politely, then shifted her attention to the curb as another car pulled up.
Allie turned to see that it was Reverend Portenski. He nodded a general greeting as he approached the stand, but his eyes kept flicking--rather nervously--to Grace.
Grace immediately busied herself restocking the brownie and cookie platters from covered plastic dishes stored under the table.
"What can I get for you, Reverend Portenski?" Heath asked.
"The peaches are good," Teddy suggested at his elbow.
Portenski picked up a bottle of peaches. "Yes, I think you're right. I'll have some of these."
He glanced at Grace again; she didn't look up. "And a jar of dill pickles."
Teddy got the pickles for him while Heath hurried to the cash drawer behind the table.
"That'll be ten dollars."
Allie put a plateful of brownies in her own basket. Because she'd been in such a hurry to leave the house, she'd packed a very meager dinner. The brownies might sustain her if the search took longer than expected. Or possibly help console her, as much as anything could, if she found something she'd rather not see.
"No fresh tomatoes yet?" Portenski asked Grace.
"Not yet," she replied.
"That's too bad. The ones you had last summer were the best."
Grace didn't respond, but Teddy spoke up. "They'll be ripe in a few weeks."
Allie sensed a strange kind of tension between Grace and the reverend, but she didn't understand the cause. Grace never went to church. Maybe the reverend had invited her to come out and she'd refused. Or he wanted to invite her and was afraid she'd refuse. Grace certainly didn't seem any more open to talking to him than she did to the police in general, or Allie in particular.
Allie watched the reverend struggle to gain her attention--in between adding a dozen fresh eggs to his purchases and examining the jams and jellies. But then a truck drove by, a truck Allie recognized. It was Jed's old Chevy, and she focused on that instead.