Only By Your Touch (23 page)

Chloe kept her back to Nan. “Yes, and she’s terribly upset.”

“You tell her I’ll have it checked out. That should calm the poor thing down. A murderer burying a body, huh?” Lang chuckled. “Sounds like the plot of a movie I watched a few nights ago. Maybe she watched the same one. Or maybe she’s seen that boy of hers, up to no good.”

Chloe’s hand clenched on the phone. She yearned to set Sheriff Lang straight on that score, but because Nan was listening, she chose to let it pass. “How soon can you come out to have a look, Sheriff?”

“Sometime before Christmas if I find a moment when I’ve got nothing better to do,” the lawman said
with a chuckle. “Tell her I’ll be out in thirty minutes, and that I’ll call if I find anything. That should ease her mind.”

Chloe related the message to Nan when she hung up the phone.

“Oh, good,” Nan said drowsily. She pushed up from her chair, blinked, and then yawned hugely. “I need to lie down. Will you wake me when he calls?”

As Chloe expected, Ben returned quickly. He entered the kitchen to find her and Jeremy sitting at the table. “I finished with the animals,” Chloe explained, “but I thought I’d better stay until you showed up.” She quickly related her conversation with the sheriff. “Your mom felt better, thinking it was reported.”

Ben’s mouth tightened. “The last thing I need is for Sheriff Lang to come up here, snooping around.”

“He won’t bother. Trust me on that. He knows your mother is ill.”

The tension went out of his shoulders. “Is she asleep?”

Chloe nodded. “That shot must have been a doozie. Did you see anything up by the log deck?”

He shook his head. “Not that I got out and really looked. She does this sometimes. When I tried to take her to Pineville to see a specialist three months ago, she saw aliens with laser guns all along the highway. She got so hysterical, I had to bring her home and sedate her.”

“Maybe next time you should sedate her before you leave.”

“There’s a thought.” He shrugged and passed a hand over his eyes. “It’s probably just as well I don’t take her to anyone else. She’s comfortable with her doctor here in Jack Pine. I don’t have much faith in
him, but all and all, she’s done amazingly well under his care. It’s going on five years now since Karen first called to tell me Mom was acting funny. In the three years since Dad died and I came back to care for her, I really can’t say she’s grown worse. Most Alzheimer’s patients do, and rather quickly, I think. Her doctor must be doing something right.”

It made Chloe sad to think of Nan growing more demented and irrational. In her lucid moments, she was such a lovely person, warm and caring. “Some people are luckier than others. The old man who lives next to my folks was diagnosed about ten years ago, and he’s still doing pretty well. He drives my dad crazy sometimes. One morning, Daddy found him in their garage calling his cat. Tinkerbell has been dead for fifteen years.”

Ben smiled and sank onto a chair. “Maybe my mom is one of the lucky ones, and she’ll be driving me crazy for a long time to come.”

Chloe nodded. “I felt so bad for her, Ben. Real or not, she genuinely believes she saw a body.”

“I know.” Ben sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe it’s good that she heard you call the sheriff. It will probably bewilder her when he doesn’t call back, but at least she’ll know it was reported and be able to put it to rest after a few days.”

“She’ll sleep most of the day now,” Chloe pointed out. “Maybe when she wakes up, she’ll have forgotten all about it.”

“Maybe so.”

The shovel made a loud clattering sound when Bobby Lee threw it in the back of his pickup, the dirt-encrusted blade thumping over the ridged bed before it struck the back of the cab and stopped. The thunderous sound made the deputy’s nerves leap, and he
cursed vilely, slapping the dust from his clothes and spitting debris from his mouth.
Close call
. Ben had almost caught him in the act. All that had saved Bobby Lee from being seen was a headlong dive into a wash, overgrown with scrub brush.

The batty old woman had seen him and gone running home to tell the tale, he guessed. Bobby Lee wasn’t overly concerned. Nan Longtree was certifiably nuts. Who was going to listen to her wild ranting? Not even her son, judging by the quick turnaround Ben had made by the log deck. If he’d just climbed from his truck and walked the hillside, he might have stumbled upon the freshly turned earth behind that cluster of manzanita.

His pulse still hammering, Bobby Lee strode to the front of his old pickup, which he always took from his garage for these forays. The county vehicle he usually drove was white and would be too easily spotted. The dusty brown Chevy blended in with the terrain, greatly reducing the chance that Bobby Lee might be seen, or even worse, identified.

He threw open the driver’s door to grab his .22. A little target practice would soothe him. The results, several more wounded critters, would also keep Ben distracted. Under no circumstances did Bobby Lee want the bastard up here, sniffing around. The evidence that he’d just buried on the hillside would be found eventually, but only when Bobby Lee decided the time was right.

He smiled to himself, eagerly anticipating the moment when he could watch Ben being hauled away to the hoosegow in handcuffs. He would go to prison for murder this time, and Bobby Lee would finally have his revenge. On that fine day, he hoped the smoke in hell cleared away long enough for Hap Longtree to look down and see what was happening. So much for
the grand family name the bastard had gone to such lengths to protect—and so much for the prissy younger son he’d chosen to acknowledge.

Every dog had its day, and Bobby Lee would finally have his.

W
hile at the sheriff’s department to empty her desk that afternoon, Chloe stepped into Lang’s rear office to have a quick word with him. The sheriff kicked back in his chair and frowned. “If you’re here to report another body, my sense of humor has worn thin. I just got the word that you’re quitting.”

Chloe laid her letter of resignation on the desk. “Yes.” As briefly as possible, she related to him the events of the prior evening. “I’m not here to file a formal complaint. Bobby Lee was drunk, and if this is his first offense, perhaps it’ll never happen again. I did want you to be aware of my reason for quitting, though, just in case another female employee should encounter difficulties with him in the future.”

“You’re accusing one of my best deputies of attempted rape?”

“And sexual harassment, if that’s the appropriate term when a woman’s superior threatens her with her job when she refuses to have sex with him after a friendly dinner date.”

Lang’s cheek muscle started to throb. “That’s a very serious accusation.”

“Yes. His behavior was despicable.”

“It’s difficult for me to swallow. I’ve known the man for twenty years.”

Chloe lifted her hands. “Believe me, don’t believe me. I’ve done my duty. You’ve been made aware. If one of my successors comes to you with a grievance, perhaps you’ll be able to swallow it then.”

Chloe wasn’t about to leave Jeremy sitting in the car while she debated the issue. She turned, left the inner office, and collected her box of desk items. She left the Japanese lantern sitting there. Let Bobby Lee decipher that in any way he pleased, but she wanted nothing even remotely connected to him.

After leaving the department, Chloe drove to the nearby Dairy Queen to get Jeremy a cone. As she was pulling away from the drive up, she glimpsed a
HELP WANTED
sign in the window of the Christmas Village. She stepped on the brake. Why not? The pay probably sucked, but it couldn’t hurt to check it out.

Chloe wondered if her eyes were as wide as Jeremy’s when they entered the store. It was a huge place, and every inch was a Christmas wonderland. Chloe had avoided coming in here until now because she’d been afraid she might spend money. Now she knew her instincts had been sound.

“Can I help you find something?”

Holding Jeremy’s hand for fear he might break something, Chloe turned to find the proprietress standing behind her. She was an elderly woman with rosy cheeks, merry blue eyes, and hair the delicate lavender of lilac blossoms. She wore a blue jersey dress and clunky black shoes.

Jeremy tugged on Chloe’s hand. “Is she Mrs. Santa Claus?”

The elderly woman smiled. “No, sweetie.” She leaned down to look him directly in the eye. “I do
happen to be one of Santa’s full-time helpers, though.”

“You are?” Jeremy asked in an awestruck voice.

“Wow!”

“I’m Mrs. Perkins.” She thrust out an arthritic hand. “And you are?”

“Jeremy.” The child wiggled free from Chloe’s grip to shake hands. “Have you met Santa? The real one, I mean? Not the fake one at the mall.”

Mrs. Perkins laughed. “Oh, my, yes. I see Santa nearly every day.” She patted the child’s head. “It never hurts to have an inside track to Santa, does it?”

“No, ma’am.”

Mrs. Perkins clearly liked Jeremy’s manners. She smiled warmly at Chloe. “Were you looking for something special, dear?”

“Well, yes, Mrs. Perkins, I—”

“Hattie.”

Chloe shook hands with her. “Chloe Evans. I just noticed the sign in your window—about needing help? I wanted to inquire about the job.”

“Oh! My goodness! You’re my first applicant.” Hattie pressed a hand to her throat. “Do you like what you see?”

Chloe thought it was a strange question to ask a prospective employee. “Well, yes.” She looked around the shop again. “It’s magical.” She felt silly the moment she spoke. “I mean—well, you know—like wishes that came true.”

Hattie nodded and smiled. “That was exactly my aim.”

Chloe hated to be rude, so she bit her tongue to keep from asking what the hourly wage might be. She doubted it would come close to what she’d been making—and the chance that Mrs. Perkins offered benefits was almost zilch.

“Let me show you around,” Hattie said.

And so began one of the most delightful tours in Chloe’s memory. The store was laid out in sections, and in each, a Christmas tree, beautifully decorated for the holidays, held court. All the ornaments were for sale. Small hand-painted dog ornaments hung from one tree, cats from another.

“Oh,” was all Chloe could say when they came upon a dollhouse section where several assembled kit houses, decorated gaily for Christmas, were displayed on electric turntables. Chloe bent to admire the detail. Each little house was lighted from within, and the surfaces of the turntables had been landscaped like yards. “Look, Jer, there’s even a milk can on the porch.”

“Welcome to the world of miniatures.” Hattie gestured at the shelves. “Everything you see can be purchased here. The houses must be assembled, of course.” She pointed to a workbench. “Many people want the entire display just as it is, so I do the work and charge a handsome price.”

“How fun!” Chloe loved to do crafts.

“That’s exactly what I hoped to hear.” Mrs. Perkins led them deeper into the store. After giving them a full tour, she led the way back to the front. “I’m not as young as I used to be. I’ll have to sell my shop soon. In the interim, I’m looking for a responsible person to manage the business for me.”

Chloe couldn’t help but feel excited. Okay, so her aspirations weren’t very high. Working in a Christmas wonderland had a lot of appeal.
Stop,
she cautioned herself. The pay couldn’t be very good, even for a manager. And she’d only stopped in to check it out, after all. The instant she heard, “Minimum wage,” she’d be out the door. “I hate to ask, Mrs. Perkins, but what’s the pay?”

“The manager will receive a percentage of the daily gross, plus an hourly wage.”

Chloe glanced over her shoulder at two couples that had entered the shop. She heard the women making appreciative sounds as they explored with their husbands. In only a couple of minutes, the shoppers had made their selections and approached the register. Chloe couldn’t believe her ears when she heard Hattie tell each husband that his tab was well over a hundred dollars. Even more amazing, the foursome left looking pleased.

The moment the door swung closed, Hattie smiled and said, “Here’s the deal. Five percent commission, plus minimum wage.”

There they were, the death words:
minimum wage
. Only Chloe wasn’t heading for the door. Five percent? Her brain went into warp speed as she tabulated the take on the last sale.
Slow down,
she cautioned herself. This place couldn’t possibly get a steady flow of customers.

“I do a booming business here, all year long,” Hattie added. “Practically everyone loves Christmas. This is a resort community. When people are on vacation, they enjoy buying Christmas pretties as mementos of their stay. I also do a steady business with locals.”

Chloe recalled the many times she’d wanted to come in here to look around. The Christmas Village definitely had curb appeal.

“I’m looking for someone very special,” Hattie went on. She smiled conspiratorially at Jeremy. “Someone who loves the magic of it all and believes in Santa Claus. Jeremy, would you, by any chance, like the job? Or better yet, maybe you’d like to come in during the day and help your mom.”

Chloe squeezed her son’s shoulder. To work where Jeremy would be welcome sounded too good to be true. “If the money’s adequate, I’d enjoy working here,” she assured Mrs. Perkins. “I love Christmas. I
always have. It would be fun to be surrounded by that feeling all year long.” She glanced around. “Even dusting the merchandise would be a pleasure.”

“Dusting is a never-ending task.” Mrs. Perkins looked directly into Chloe’s eyes. “There’s a catch,” she said softly.

Chloe had been afraid of that.

“I’m looking for someone who may be interested in buying the shop in a year. I’m getting old.” She rubbed the back of a gnarled hand. “It’s time for me to scale back. My husband and I want to travel.”

Chloe’s heart sank. “I see. Well, that counts me—”

Hattie cut her off. “This place has given me a wonderful income for many years, but it’s time to relax a little and enjoy my husband.”

Chloe had recently had a similar discussion with her parents. “You really shouldn’t wait too long, or you may not be in good enough health.”

“Exactly.” The older woman nodded decisively. “I’d like to find a buyer who’ll work hard at learning the business, someone who’ll love this shop as much as I do.”

“I can see myself loving it,” Chloe said with a laugh. “I just can’t afford it.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, Hattie said, “If you’re the person I’m looking for, the finances can be worked out. I’m willing to give you a one-month trial period. If it goes well, we’ll discuss the possibilities. I can guarantee that you’ll earn enough in commissions to support yourself and your son while you save enough to make a respectable down payment on the business at the end of a year.”

Chloe’s stomach clenched.

Hattie raised her eyebrows. “I’ll carry the contract. For the right buyer, I will adjust the terms so the payment won’t be too steep.”

Chloe didn’t know what to say.

Hattie smiled slightly. “I like you, Chloe Evans. I’ve always made decisions by the seat of my pants, and when I opened this shop, it was no exception. It seems only right that I end the way I began, going on instinct. If you’re interested in my shop, how soon can you start?”

When Chloe got home, she had mixed emotions, part of her wanting to dance with excitement, another part almost afraid to believe. If Hattie Perkins was on the level, she had a job! And not just any job, but one that would enable her to buy a business. She was so thrilled that she almost hugged the breath out of her son several times. After feeding Jeremy and putting him down for the night, she was still floating on a cloud when the phone rang. It was a little after nine, and she couldn’t think who might be calling. She’d spoken with her folks three evenings before, and her brother and sister called only once a month.

“Hello?”

“Hi, there. Call me a worrywart. I had to call and check on you.”

Ben?
Chloe was surprised. Then, almost as soon as she registered the thought, she wondered why she should be. If it was true that bad luck came in threes, why couldn’t the same hold true for good? The first time she’d seen Ben Longtree, she’d felt strongly attracted to him. How many other times had a man made her feel that way? Exactly once. Maybe she had been destined to move to this magical little town, and maybe she was supposed to have quit her job and stopped by the Christmas Village to inquire about the position there. And maybe, just maybe, the best part of all had been meeting Ben Longtree.

“Are you there?” he asked.

Chloe laughed. “Oh, yes. Sorry.”

“Are you okay? No problems with Bobby Lee, I hope.”

“No, none. I didn’t even see him when I stopped by to clean out my desk.”

“That’s good. And how are things otherwise? You sound—I don’t know—different. Is there a problem?”

“No, no. I had a slightly heated discussion with the sheriff. Dumb me. I had it in my head that I needed to report Bobby Lee’s transgression.”

“I take it he didn’t appreciate being enlightened?”

“He’s known Deputy Schuck for twenty years. Need I say more?”

“He’s the stupid one, Chloe.”

“Yes. The good-old-boy system is busily at work. I knew last night that I’d get nowhere, filing charges. I’m too new in town. He’s been here all his life. I did my duty by reporting it. What the sheriff does with the information is up to him. I’m ready to close that chapter now and move ahead.”

“Good for you. It’s better forgotten.”

Chloe was dying to share her news, but she was almost afraid to say anything for fear she might jinx the deal. “I’m feeling fantastic tonight. Well, maybe I should qualify that. If everything pans out, I’ll feel fantastic.”

“Now you’ve piqued my curiosity. If what pans out?”

“I think I’ve got another job—a fabulous one that may turn out to be the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“Details.”

“You’ll laugh. It’s one of those situations that sounds too good to be true, and men are always such wet blankets about such things.”

“Bite your tongue. And I promise not to laugh.”

Hesitantly, Chloe recounted her conversation with Hattie Perkins. When she finished, Ben said, “That’s wonderful news. Hattie is a neat lady.”

“You know her? I mean, well, obviously, in this small town, you probably know her. But do you know her well?”

“I used to work for her when I was in high school. Evenings. I dusted merchandise. It’s a fabulous shop, isn’t it? And she’s not pulling your leg about the business she does. That place is always hopping.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. If she’s willing to sell to you on contract and tailor the terms, how can you pass it up?”