Sure enough, right as we finished up breakfast and I’d convinced Tiller to let me do the dishes, there was a knock on the door. Mikey brought Barney back to the kitchen. He was carrying a large paper grocery bag that he set down carefully on the island.
“Oh sweet pea,” he said, bustling over to kiss me on the cheek. My hands were dripping wet with soapy dishwater, so I simply stood there and accepted it. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sam watching every move.
Not going to lie, I kind of liked the scowl on his face.
“How are you bearing up?” Barney asked, cooing over me and murmuring that I looked just awful. “You must not be sleeping. I knew this would happen.”
Mikey offered him a cup of coffee, then asked, “What’s in the bag? Did you bring us some cookies? I happen to know Truman has a soft spot for peanut butter cookies.”
Barney’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Truman only eats organic plant-based foods.”
I wanted to laugh. “No, I don’t.”
Sam couldn’t resist. “Pretty sure peanut butter is plant-based anyway.”
“Be that as it may,” Barney continued, “I brought something super special for you from the shop. When I remembered how dear it was to you, I couldn’t resist going over there to look for it.”
I dried my hands off and opened the paper bag, pulling out a familiar, albeit soot-dusted, spiral notebook. “Oh my gosh! It’s Aunt Berry’s recipes.” I glanced over at Barney in surprise. “How in the world did you find this?”
“And how did it survive?” Tiller asked, stepping closer to take a look.
It was a good question. The spiral was definitely covered in ash and soot, but otherwise, it didn’t look like it had been harmed at all. I searched my memory to figure out where I might have left it the last time I’d used it.
“I could have sworn I had it here at the house from when I made the last batch of thyroid drops for Dee Lorens,” I murmured, brushing off the dust into the kitchen sink. “No, wait. I took it to the shop to grab the ingredients for the eczema cream. That’s right. I guess I must have left it there.”
Mikey dampened a paper towel and brought it over to help clean off the soot.
I glanced back over to Barney. “Thank you so much for thinking of this. I can’t believe I almost lost it. I have the recipes backed up on my computer now, but having them in her own handwriting means so much to me. I really appreciate it.”
Barney relaxed and smiled under my expression of gratitude. “I’m so glad. I hated the thought of you losing something so special. I know you don’t have much to remember her by. It would have been a shame to lose this in that horrible fire.”
“Was there anything else?” I asked. “Berry’s mala beads?”
Barney opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes flicked to Sam for a beat and then back to me. “I’m afraid not.”
Mikey frowned. “Were those the colorful beads that hung behind the register counter?”
I nodded. “It kind of looks like a rosary, but the beads are all different kinds of stones. Some were rare and precious gemstones. The mala is used in meditation.”
Barney shook his head, more sure this time. “It definitely wasn’t there. Most everything is ash or broken glass, I’m afraid. And it stinks to high heaven.”
Sam nodded from where he stood a few feet away. I’d begun to notice when Barney was around, Sam seemed to keep his distance. I wondered why. Was he afraid of interfering in some perceived relationship of mine?
Sam cleared his throat. “I didn’t see anything like that when I was there either, but then again, the investigator didn’t let me very far into the building because it was considered a crime scene.”
“You went to the shop, too?” I asked him.
Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “I boarded it up. Remember?”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I’m just turned around… When you were there, did you see anything else worth saving?”
Sam glanced at Barney, then back at me. He spoke carefully. “Truman, there wasn’t even a single square-inch of wood from an interior wall or piece of furniture that wasn’t burned. Nothing survived that fire in one piece.”
I met his eyes and saw the truth in them.
This notebook hadn’t been in the fire.
17
Sam
I wasn’t sure what the older man was playing at, but I didn’t like it. Barney had obviously lifted the notebook from Truman’s house while he was creeping on the guy the other day. It was clear Truman had understood what I was saying about the notebook not being in the fire, but he did a good job changing the subject before Barney caught on.
“Do you think the insurance company will send out an adjuster?” Truman asked Barney. It was the perfect distraction. Barney puffed up and began giving Truman advice on how to handle the insurance adjuster. Meanwhile, Tiller raised an eyebrow at me and nodded his head toward the back door.
“Will you come check out a rotten board I found? I wanted you to tell me if I should replace it.”
I nodded and found my boots next to where I’d tossed my saddlebags in the corner of the kitchen by the back door. I shoved my feet into them before following Tiller outside.
“That guy is a meddling prick,” I muttered once we reached the privacy of the backyard.
“No kidding. Also a pompous windbag, which is an expression I’ve always wanted an excuse to use.”
I took in a deep breath of cool, clean mountain air. This really was a beautiful place. The ski mountain sat right behind their house, and the trees were beginning to bud. “You don’t really have a rotten board, do you?” I asked.
Tiller shrugged. “Probably. This place is huge. I’m sure something’s rotten somewhere.”
“That notebook wasn’t in the fire,” I said.
“No. It wasn’t. Seems to me the guy swiped it from the farm and is using it to try and be a hero. What an idiot. Not sure I could have stayed in there without laughing in his face.”
He was right. It was embarrassing. Barney was so intent on winning Truman over, he was willing to use the fire as a way of appearing the savior. If he wasn’t such a plodding Goody Two-shoes, I might have suspected him of actual arson. Instead, I mostly suspected him of being pathetic.
I was grateful there were plenty of other people in town Truman could rely on besides Barney Balderson. It was a good community, and this visit had confirmed it for me. Tiller and Mikey had moved from Houston into a much better social situation.
I envied them their future here and wondered if now was a good time to ask Tiller how serious he’d been about an opportunity for me here.
“When you decided to move to Aster Valley, did you… how did you make such a big decision that quickly?”
Tiller thought about it for a little while as we walked down into the yard and across the grass toward the tree line. “I didn’t decide to move to Aster Valley,” he said with a soft smile. “I decided to do whatever it took to make Michael Vining happy. And Mikey was going to move here with or without me. So I bought this place to make him happy. And I moved to Aster Valley because that’s where my Mikey was.”