Raising Hell Page 5

  At the foot of my bed stood my aunt Rose, staring at me.

  “Rose,” I croaked, throat dry and not yet ready for words, “did you need something?”

  “Oh, no honey,” came the saccharine response from the elderly woman. “Sorry. Just making sure you were asleep.”

  “Um, okay,” I frowned. It was way too early for this.

  Rose smiled brightly back at me and then scooted over to the door and closed it softly behind her. Shaking my head, I peeked at the alarm clock that sat on my bedside table before snuggling back under the covers. I had fourteen more minutes before I had to get up, and I still wasn’t ready to face morning just yet. I closed my eyes and settled back into the pillow, and as it often did, my mind drifted to Nick Moody, and randomly conjured up a memory.

  The first time I ever met Nick was on a playground at our elementary school in second grade. Because of my ridiculously long eyelashes—I blamed my mother for those—and my long, curly blond hair—also her fault—two older boys had herded me to a far corner of the playground, waited until the teachers turned their backs and then pushed me around a little, teasing me by saying that I looked like a girl.

  With more bravado than good sense, I’d swung at the biggest one, but had wound up on the ground with him straddling my chest and pulling back his fist to punch me. That’s when Nick had shown up and pulled the kid off me.

  He was a sturdy little thing, even then, with a lot of messy dark brown hair and those startlingly blue eyes. He was frowning down at the boy who’d hit me, daring him to get up and face him. I thought he was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen.

  “You always were a pain in the ass,” Nick had once told me. “Since the first time I ever saw you. In retrospect, I should have minded my own damn business and let that boy beat your little ass.”

  He’d told me that during an argument we had the last time I saw him before he went off to the army, and if he’d intended that to be a shot to the heart—well, it was.

  “I fought back!”

  “Okay,” he’d said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “You were my best friend after that, though,” I told him softly, unable to bear the idea that these last words we might ever say to each other would be so bitter. “I looked up to you. I loved you. I still do.”

  Nick shook his head, with a gaze back at me that was hard to read. “I love you too, Noah. Just not in the way you want me to.”

  That was true enough. I’d always wanted more from him than he could seem to give me. Even as a kid, I knew how I felt about him. I remembered looking up at Nick when he reached a hand down to help me up off that playground, and knowing it was game over for me. The jig was up, the deal had been sealed, and I was going to love him for the rest of my life.

  I stretched my hands over my head, thinking I really should stop rambling down memory lane and get up. Then a sudden thought had me popping up in bed.

  What had Rose meant by saying she wanted to make sure I was asleep? Damn it! What were they up to now?

  I threw back the cover and stifled a shiver as I pulled on a pair of jeans and padded out of my bedroom and down the hallway. Mornings were still chilly, especially in my grandmother’s drafty old house.

  I could hear the faint chatter of voices coming from the kitchen. “We almost got it in before they caught us,” a slightly familiar voice said. “I stuck it in your pocketbook, Pearl, so they wouldn’t see it.”

  “I know. I found it when I got home. Good thinking, Claudie.”

  Intrigued, I eased up to the doorway, hovering just outside as the discussion continued.

  “But dammit, Rose,” I heard my grandmother say, “If Whatley hadn’t popped in when he did, getting all excited and shouting about calling the deputies, I might have been able to get it in there.”

  “But we still don’t know if that would have worked.”

  “That’s true. And it would have been a shame to…oh, good morning, dear. I thought Rose said you were still asleep.”

  All conversation stopped and three sets of eyes locked onto me. I knew they were up to something. I could almost smell it in the air. My grandmother, my aunt Rose and Claudia Moody were sitting around the kitchen table, eating scrambled eggs, biscuits, sausage gravy and grits and drinking out of Dollywood coffee cups. They reminded me of characters in an old black and white Cary Grant movie that I’d seen once on TV. The one where the sweet old ladies poisoned their boarders with elderberry wine. Although, I decided, in my grandmother’s case, it would probably have been with a rum and Coke.

  “So,” I drawled, stepping fully into the kitchen, scratching my stomach. “What’s going on, ladies?”

  My grandmother shrugged. “Going on? Why, whatever do you mean? We’re just having a meeting about our book club. Trying to choose a new book to read.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the lot of them. “Just the three of you to choose a new book?”

  “Would you like some sausage and gravy biscuits, dear?” Rose asked, jumping up to stand in front of the stove, grabbing a skillet with one hand and a spatula with the other. Aunt Rose was an excellent cook, and I was kind of hungry.

  “Well, I…

  “Made-from-scratch biscuits and homemade sausage gravy. Mary Higgins’ husband killed a hog in the fall and she brought us over a couple of pounds of sausage and some pork chops last week.”

  On second thought… sometimes the best way to get to the bottom of a caper was to infiltrate the gang. And if the gang happened to have sausage and gravy biscuits, all the better.

  “Well, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all,” she smiled “I’ll give you two biscuits.”

  “Just one. I have to watch my weight.” Yeah, because only one sausage and gravy biscuit was low calorie. I glanced at the clock over the doorway. “I’ve got a little time before I need to get to the shop. Tina opened for me this morning and made the doughnuts.” Plus, Rose made the best sausage and gravy biscuits I’d ever tasted.

  We sat in awkward silence while Rose hummed at the stove and cooked up my breakfast in a surprisingly short amount of time. Pearl and Claudia Moody quietly sipped at their coffee. Like my gran and Rose, Claudia was dressed in a pastel-colored blouse and matching slacks. She fluffed up her hair as I dug my fork into the gravy covered biscuit. I smiled around the table at them.

  “So what book are you thinking of? And what was it that was so hard to get in? In where?”

  Smiling, Pearl peered at me over her coffee cup. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You were saying just before I walked in….”

  The three women sitting opposite me looked at one another and then shrugged in unison. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” my grandmother said in a saccharin voice.

  “Oh, I know,” Rose piped up. “We were talking about the book shelf in my room, dear. I took a book out of it this morning to show Pearl and Claudia, and it was hard to get back in. My shelves are so full.”

  “Uh huh.” It’d been a few days since Emma Mae Millican’s death, the debacle at the funeral home, and the equally embarrassing run-in with Adrianna Reinhart at her aunt’s home. I leaned back in the chair, just staring at them. I’d been tempted to drive back to Emma Mae’s house the next day to apologize to Adrianna again, but had ended up talking myself out of it. Better to leave things as they were than to risk saying the wrong thing and making everything worse.

  I took another forkful of gravy and biscuit, following it up with a big swig of Gran’s coffee. I regarded the women at the table closely as I ate, particularly my grandmother. She was fingering her necklace again, the one she called an agate. Rose was wearing her agate pin and Claudia Moody had a ring that sported the same stone. Odd. Was it some kind of club thing?

  It was then that I noticed the old book stuck in between the Dollywood cups and coffee creamer and half hidden by Rose’s arm. It was definitely old—it looked to be almost falling apart and was more of a collection of
papers bound together with heavy string and scraps of a leather covering, more than an actual book. I chewed slowly, savoring the last bite as I considered my next words. “What you got there, Aunt Rose?”

  The question was met with an arched eyebrow. “I…uh…” The older woman coughed and cast a worried glance at Claudia and my gran, before moving to cover the notebook a bit more with her arm. “What dear? Oh this? This is nothing. Just an old recipe book I bought at a yard sale.”

  “Really?” I looked up and met Gran’s obstinate gaze, as if she was daring me to call Rose’s bluff.

  “Don’t you say another word, Rose,” Gran snapped. “He thinks he can get you to talk.” She glared at me. “Not that we have anything to hide.”

  “Then why not let Rose speak?”

  “Why? So you can entrap her? You may be family, but that doesn’t mean you’re not sneaky.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Grandma.” I pushed back from the table. “Why is everything such drama with you? Just admit that you’ve become obsessed with that ridiculous pie recipe. You’re probably sitting here trying to recreate it.”

  She sat up straighter in her chair and gave me a narrow look. “And what if we were? It doesn’t cost anything. We aren’t bothering anybody. Unlike some people.”

  “You are bothering me though.” I frowned at Rose and my grandmother. “All of you. I don’t want anymore trouble and I’m sure your grandson would say the same, Ms. Moody,” I said, looking at Claudia. “If that’s the book Adrianna Reinhart was talking about, then y’all stole it. She said she wants it back.” I waved a hand toward the Tupperware. “What are you doing, trying to figure out Emma Mae’s cherry pie recipe? Did you bring a piece with you from the reception? So you can win the next cooking contest or whatever.”

  The silence that followed spoke volumes, or at least it did to me.

  “That’s what I thought.” I shook my head. “What’s next, Grandma? Taking a little of that pie down to the college and have it reverse engineered?”

  “Don’t be—oh, you mean they can do that?”

  “I’m going to get ready for work now.” I stood, took three steps toward the hallway, and then stopped. I turned and stared down at the women. “But this stops now. I mean it, Grandma. You need to take that book back to Ms. Reinhart. I’m putting my foot down.” As I finished the words, I could hear the sound of knocking start up at the front door.

  Gran snorted and mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like she called me an asshole.

  “What did you say, grandma?”

  Rose choked down the sip of coffee she’d just taken before elbowing Gran in the side. She beamed a smile back at me. “She said you have such a nice soul.”

  “Mm hmm. Grandma, if you think I’m playing about this, then you’ve got another think coming.”

  I was interrupted by the continued sound of knocking, only louder this time. I poked my head down the hallway and then glanced back at the trio.

  “Just…whatever you’re thinking about doing—don’t.”

  With that I left the kitchen and headed to answer the front door. By the time I reached it, the knocking had evolved into full-fledged banging with somebody’s fist.

  I swung open the door, ready to give whoever was on the other side a piece of my mind. Nick Moody was standing there staring down at me. “You again? Why are you always hanging around, half-dressed?” His eyes raked me up and down again and landed on my bare feet with those damn polished toenails. “Dammit. Don’t you ever wear shoes? Your feet are blue. No, wait—that’s just your toenails.”

  “Oh, very funny. I’m not wearing shoes or a shirt, either, because it’s eight in the morning and I just got out of bed. What’s your problem, anyway?”

  He glared at me, his eyes shooting little sparks. “I’d like to show you what, if I wasn’t wearing this uniform. I’ve been wanting a chance to beat the hell out of you for a long time.”

  I was so shocked at that outrageous statement, I simply spluttered. Then I balled up my fists. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m standing right here. Bring it.”

  He glared at me for a long moment with his eyes narrowed, and then he pushed past me, putting a hand on my chest to move me aside. “Never mind. Where’s my grandmother?”

  I felt a little flutter in my stomach when he touched me, and wasn’t that too pathetic for words?

  “She’s in the kitchen,” The words came out in an embarrassing croak. I cleared my throat before continuing. “Why don’t you just barge on in, Sheriff? Does that make you feel like a big man?”

  He whirled to glare at me again, and then from behind us came his grandmother’s voice.

  “Nick! What in the world are you doing here?”

  I glanced around to see all three of the ladies grouped behind him.

  Nick started shouting. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here, Nana? I thought we talked about this just last night. I told you I don’t think you should be around these-these people.”

  I felt my back stiffen. These people? What the hell did that mean?

  “Nick, you’re being ridiculous.”

  “No, ma’am,” he scowled, “Ridiculous is having to pick you up in the middle of the night after your friends broke into a funeral home and dragged you along with them.”

  “Dragged her? Now wait just a damn minute,” I broke in, taking an aggressive step toward him.

  He glanced down at me in surprise. “Oh, you got something to say about this too? This is a ‘A-B’ conversation, Noah. ‘C’ your way out.”

  My mouth literally dropped open. He hadn’t said that to me since we were in the fourth grade. “Have you lost your mind?” I yelled at him. “’A-B’ conversation my ass. Stop insulting me and my family if you don’t want me to interrupt. The ‘ridiculous’ part of what you said, I’d have to agree with, but I don’t agree with the part about making your grandmother do anything! For all we know, she might be the mastermind!”

  We both glanced over at her, and she gave us a sweet, blank smile and waggled her fingers at us as she noticed our regard. Her cheeks were as rosy as a baby’s and her eyes were a clear, blameless blue.

  “Okay, so maybe ‘mastermind’ was a bit of an exaggeration,” I said. “But I don’t care for your tone, or your implication that something is wrong with my family.”

  The sapphire blue eyes in front of me stared down with an angry expression. “Why are you always around anyway?”

  Gorgeous or not, Nick had a serious attitude problem. Why am I around? Seriously? “I live here. Why are you here?”

  Of course, I knew full well why he was here, because he’d just told me, but if he could be stupid, so could I. Rather than answer my question, he narrowed his eyes and seemed to mull over my answer. “Why did you have to come back to town at all? Starting up that fake ass Krispy Kreme place that all my deputies rave about! I have to see you over there every day, prancing around in your tight jeans with your little man bun and your polished toenails.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to see me at all! You can stay the hell out of my shop, and leave my toenails out of this.”

  “The hell I will. I’ll go wherever I want to. This is my town, boy, and don’t you forget it.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, my doughnuts aren’t fake!” It was a pathetic comeback, but the only thing I could think of on short notice. “Besides, I haven’t forgotten a thing! Have you?”

  He glared at me, but I knew that he was fully aware of what I meant. He shifted his feet uncomfortably, and then he looked back at his grandmother. “Nana, please get your purse, because we’re leaving,” he said. “I don’t want you hanging around with…” his eyes fell on Gran, “the residents of this household.”

  That last remark flew all over me. Despite what I may have thought, or even said, in private, I wasn’t about to let this man stand there and run my family down that way. Pearl was my grandmother. The woman who’d practically raised me and who had been a cornerstone in my life. Sure, she
could be a little eccentric…in fact, six months earlier, she’d been arrested for causing a disturbance in Ernie’s Floral Shop, and I’d had to go down to the county jail and post a bond to get her out. I’d been angry at her at the time, but once she explained what happened, I’d kind of wanted to go down there and punch the guy out myself.

  Pearl had ordered a dozen roses at a not inconsiderable price to be delivered to the funeral of one of the church deacons. She ordered them sight unseen, but she trusted the man to make her a nice arrangement. Instead, when she arrived at the funeral, her roses were drooping like a willow tree in a hailstorm. She had been embarrassed in front of the whole town who had turned out for the funeral, and when she went down to get her money back, Ernie himself had given her a hard time. He pretty much called her a liar and said the roses had been fresh when they left his shop. Even though that was obviously a lie, she held onto her cool, until he told her to get out of his shop. She did, but when she got outside she backed up into his plate glass window. That was bad enough, but she might have been able to play it off as simple bad driving if she hadn’t pulled away and then backed up into it again.

  “Okay, I admit that breaking into the funeral home could be considered eccentric…”

  Nick gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Eccentric? Are you kidding me?” he rumbled. “Bat shit crazy is more like it.”

  Lips tight, I curled the fingers on one hand into a fist and took a step forward. “I think you need to leave. And I don’t know who the hell you think you are, coming in here in my grandmother’s house and saying something like that to me, but I was raised better than to disrespect my elders. If you say something like that again, I’ll knock you on your ass—I don’t care who you are!”

  I felt a hand gripping at my arm, pulling me back.

  “Stop, Noah, that’s enough,” my grandmother said. “Claudie, maybe it’s time for you to be on your way. Your grandson doesn’t want you here. I’ll see you tomorrow at the Book Club meeting.”

  Nick turned without another word, marching his grandmother to the car.

  “That’s right,” I yelled at his back injudiciously. “You better get out of here before I whip your ass!”