‘No worries, I know what you meant.’ Mercy scanned the store again. ‘Actually, I was hoping to find a quilt. One of my friends bought one here and I admire it every time I go to her house.’
‘Oh, the quilts are long gone. We didn’t get that many in our last delivery.’ Ginger’s forehead crinkled in a slight frown. ‘Which was a long time ago, come to think of it.’
‘When was that?’ Rafe asked casually.
‘Gosh. Back around Halloween, I think. We still had our ghosts and goblins display up. I put the jack-o’-lantern I’d carved on top of one of the smaller tables by this same artist, and it sold the next day. The table.’ She grinned winningly. ‘Not the jack-o’-lantern, because I can’t carve to save my life.’
Mercy chuckled. ‘Me either. Did the artist himself deliver the tables?’
‘Oh no. He’s a recluse. His friend brought them by and picked up his payment. I wanted to meet the artist. I wanted a custom display case for my dad about a year back. He’d just gotten the flag from my great-grandfather’s casket and I wanted to give him something nice to put it in.’
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ Mercy said quietly.
The woman shrugged. ‘Papaw was almost a hundred. He had a really good life. Still miss him, though.’ She visibly shook herself. ‘Anyway, I never got to meet the woodworker himself.’
‘Maybe they’ll be back with more work now that spring is here,’ Rafe suggested.
Another shrug. ‘Maybe. But the guy who repped the artist brought stuff in at least once a month for the last few years, even in the dead of winter. Then as of November’ – she snapped her fingers – ‘nothin’. It wasn’t all woodwork. There were quilts and some dolls. Knitted scarves, sweaters, and blankets. Every now and then a cross-stitched sampler. It’s all gone now, except for this lovely.’
The door jingled again. ‘More customers. Give me a shout if you have any other questions.’
‘Will do.’ Mercy waited until she was gone before tentatively lifting the jewelry box lid. And couldn’t control her gasp. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. ‘Rafe.’
‘I see,’ he said softly.
On the inside of the lid, carved in an ornate, scrolling font were the words Surely Goodness And Mercy Shall Follow Me All The Days Of My Life.
Her eyes burned and she blinked rapidly, not wanting to cry in this store. Her makeup would run and that would be the end of her disguise.
Sasha and Erin joined them, staring silently for a moment. Then Sasha murmured, ‘It’s a hymn, isn’t it?’
Mercy nodded. ‘He used to sing it to me. My stepfather, Amos. When I was really small, I thought the words were “Surely good Miss Mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” I thought the song was about me. He called me Miss Mercy until the day I left his house.’ To marry Ephraim. ‘He gave me a beautiful hope chest for my twelfth birthday, but . . .’ She’d had to leave it behind.
Sasha squeezed her arm. ‘Sounds like he loved you.’
‘He did.’ She drew a breath, sliding her arm free from Rafe’s. ‘Can you turn it upside down, Rafe?’
He leaned his cane against a nearby shelf. ‘Of course.’ Gently he did so, handling the jewelry box like it was priceless crystal. ‘What are you looking for?’ Then he made a noise in his throat. ‘Oh.’
It was a small olive tree with twelve branches.
‘Do you need something?’ Ginger was back.
‘Yes,’ Mercy answered, not taking her eyes from Amos’s mark. ‘How much is this?’
‘Six hundred and fifty dollars.’
Mercy winced. ‘Ouch.’
Ginger looked uncomfortable. ‘I can’t change the price. Only the store owner can.’
Mercy stared at the jewelry box, wrestling with herself. She might have told herself that she was only buying it to submit into evidence, but that would be a lie. Because she could hear Amos’s delighted laughter when he called her Miss Mercy, his pure baritone singing the song the way she’d thought it went, and the memory was . . . sweet. Glancing up at Rafe, she saw understanding in his eyes. ‘I really want this, but . . .’
His smile warmed her. ‘Does it bring back good memories?’
She nodded, kind of hating that it was true. ‘Some of the only good ones.’
He didn’t break eye contact. ‘Then get it.’
She turned to Ginger. ‘I’ll take it. Thank you.’
The woman beamed. ‘Excellent. Come up to the register and we’ll get it done.’
Mercy followed her, reaching for her wallet. ‘I think I might know the artist,’ she admitted. ‘Or at least of him. I wish I could contact the man who was his representative.’
‘I don’t have his card. Sorry. He just came in whenever he had new items to trade.’
Mercy could feel Rafe standing behind her, the heat from his body letting her know that she was safe. It gave her the courage to press forward as the woman ran her credit card. ‘Was he young? The rep, I mean.’
Ginger handed Mercy the credit slip to sign. ‘No. Not young young. Maybe thirty, thirty-five.’
Mercy forced herself to remember what DJ Belmont looked like and figured she’d deserve an Oscar if she could pull off the next round of questions without gagging. ‘Looked like Matthew McConaughey with blond hair? Like white-blond? Tall and kind of rangy? Wore a cowboy hat?’
Ginger blinked, then blushed. ‘Yes.’
Oh dear. This girl had a crush on DJ. Mercy was suddenly, viciously glad that he’d stopped coming by. This girl was far too nice to end up as DJ’s prey.
Mercy made herself smile. ‘Any idea where he came from? I’d love to find more cabinets like this. Maybe even a hope chest.’
Ginger looked down at the counter, then glanced around furtively, as if checking for anyone else who might be listening. ‘Well, I did see him leave once. He drove into the forest.’
The Modoc National Forest started just a few miles west of town. Mercy leaned in, forcing a conspiratorial smile to her face. ‘Can you give me any more than that?’
Ginger glanced around again, then inclined her head. ‘I followed him,’ she confessed. ‘He was mysterious and I was young and stupid. And crushing.’
‘I can see why,’ Mercy agreed. ‘He was something.’ Something evil, vile, and utterly disgusting. ‘I might have crushed on him too, when I was younger.’
Might have, but hadn’t. Gideon might remember a ‘nicer’ DJ, but in Mercy’s memory he was a spiteful, spoiled bully.