Grace handed him his drink. “Why not?”
“I can’t see my talented little prosecutor sitting outside, peddling homemade foodstuffs. At least not for very long.”
Grace tucked the wisps of hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ears. Maybe it wouldn’t be as mentally challenging as the work she was used to, but it wouldn’t be as hectic, either. An assistant district attorney was always cleaning up other people’s messes, trying to put things right—or as right as they could be after a violent crime. Now, she yearned to forget the burglary, rape and murder cases she’d prosecuted and create something simple and pure. “It’ll pass the time while I’m here,” she said instead of arguing.
“And make you desperate to get back to a real job.”
“Possibly.”
“I give it a week.”
Grace thought she might last a little longer than that. Maybe she wasn’t too excited about what lurked at the farm. But—she glanced around the well-loved kitchen—here in Evonne’s house, she felt at home for the first time since she could remember.
2
Grace’s cell phone rang early the following morning. Expecting it to be someone from the office, she bolted awake and scrambled to answer before the caller could be transferred to voice mail.
A second later, she remembered helping George lug her bed up the stairs to what had been Evonne’s bedroom.
She wasn’t even in Jackson, she realized. She was in Stillwater. And she was staying here for some time.
“No one’s going to steal me away, George,” she muttered, and pushed the Talk button, thinking he might want to let her know he’d made it home safely last night. Fortunately, he’d been eager to get back to the Wrigley case and hadn’t pressed her to sleep with him.
“Hello?”
“You’ve got to call Mom. And Madeline.”
It was her younger sister, Molly, who worked for a clothes designer in New York City. As a teenager, Molly had been almost as eager to get out of Stillwater as Grace. She’d spent her first year after high school helping their mother move from the farm and get settled in town. But after that she’d obtained a grant from the federal government that allowed her to attend the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in Los Angeles. Except for a few visits to Jackson each year to see Grace, and to Stillwater to see Irene, Clay and Madeline, she’d been gone ever since.
Grace rubbed a hand over her face in an attempt to revive herself. “Why?”
“They know you’re in Stillwater.”
“Clay told them already?”
“From what I heard, you stopped by the farm night before last. How long did you think he’d wait?”
“Until I was ready, I guess.”
“Did you ask him to keep your presence a secret?”
“No. I knew he’d tell Mom anyway.”
“There you go.”
Stifling a yawn, Grace kicked off the sheet that served as her only covering. Six-thirty in the morning, and it was already hot and sticky. The open windows and the fan whirring softly in the corner seemed to make little difference. But there wasn’t any more Grace could do, except maybe sit in a tub of ice cubes. Evonne’s house had no air-conditioning. “Okay, I—I’ll call them later this morning.”
“Did you know Mom’s seeing someone?” Molly asked.
The sleepiness Grace had been fighting suddenly evaporated. “After all these years? You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“When I talked to her a few weeks ago, she didn’t mention anyone.”
“The relationship—if that’s really what it is—is pretty new. When I called Clay on Saturday, he said she’s been gone a lot, and that she’s been acting very secretive. So we’re guessing she’s involved with someone.”
“Do you think he’s from around here?”
“If so, I can’t imagine who it would be. You know how poorly the people of Stillwater have always treated her.”
“It’s not as bad as it used to be, is it?”
“Of course not. But there are still plenty who’ll never accept her.”
“Not while they suspect what they do,” Grace added.
Molly ignored the comment. “Anyway, if she’s found someone special, I say it’s about time. Considering what she’s been through, she deserves a good man.”
“What if he isn’t good?”
“The odds have to work for us at some point, don’t they? Surely she couldn’t get three bad ones in a row.”
Nothing was certain. Even if Irene was seeing someone special—a good man—did he deserve to get mixed up with their family? Not that he’d even know the worst of it. That was part of the problem Grace faced with George—her inability to be completely honest with him. “I don’t see how she can do any worse than she did with our father and the reverend.”
“Our father had his moments.”
“Before he ran off.”
“My point exactly. It was more like one big mistake, not two. Mom wouldn’t have married the reverend if she hadn’t been so desperate. She was only trying to keep all of us together.”
“I know.” Grace didn’t blame Irene for buying into the dream the reverend had represented. He’d seemed like a solid family man, someone who’d stand by her, as well as her children and his own daughter, instead of shirking responsibility the way their real father had. No one would’ve believed that Barker, a well-liked hardworking preacher, could possess such a dark side.
“So why didn’t you tell me?” Molly asked. The tone of her voice indicated she’d shifted to a new topic.
“Tell you what?” Miserably hot, Grace pulled off the T-shirt she’d slept in and sat directly in front of the fan in her panties. The sweat moistening her bare skin made the air feel cooler.
“That you were finally returning to Stillwater.”
Grace had thought about it. She knew Molly would’ve joined her, had she asked. Molly was the pleaser in the family; she tried to take care of everyone. But Grace refused to lean on her the way their mother did. “It came up at the last minute.”
“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true.”
“You had to make a lot of arrangements.”
“Which came together quickly.”
“If you say so.” Obviously, Molly didn’t want to argue further. “How does it feel to be back?”