Seven Sisters - Earlene Fowler [71]
“That pathetic line actually works?”
“Never fails.”
“It’s despicable.”
Unperturbed by my opinion, he dabbed at his mouth again, flinching at the pain.
“What a lightweight. I’d sure hate to have you for a partner.”
“The only blood that bothers me is my own,” he protested.
I gave him a withering look.
“You know, you are the least maternal woman I’ve ever met,” he said.
His remark hit me straight in the heart, and thanks to my expressive face, he immediately noticed.
“Oh, shoot, I’m sorry, Benni,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”
“Forget it,” I said curtly.
Emory walked up at that moment and asked, “What’s going on?”
“Are you finished with your interviews?” I asked.
“Yes, but—”
“Then let’s go.”
Emory looked at me, then Detective Hudson, then back at me. “Are you all right? What did he do to you?”
“I said, let’s go, Emory.” I climbed into the car, buckled my seat belt, and stared straight ahead. We were out of the parking lot and well on the highway back to San Celina before Emory spoke.
“Need to talk about it?” he asked.
I put a hand up to my eyes. “Not right now, Emory. But thanks for asking.”
He gave me a worried look, then turned the conversation to Isaac with whom he’d chatted briefly at the tasting. “He and Dove are cooking something up. He says he’ll tell me about it when they need publicity. Couldn’t get him to spill a word.”
“Me neither. I’m going out there for dinner tonight, though, so I’ll give it another try. Why don’t you come, too?”
“Can’t. I have to get these stories written and dispatched to my editor for final approval. Then I’m going to see if I can pry my ladylove away from her office long enough for a romantic dinner down at the beach.” His voice wasn’t as chipper and optimistic as usual.
You’d better watch it, I silently told Elvia, or this one’s going to slip right through your fingers, and I know you’ll live to regret it.
We pulled up in front of my house, and it was immediately apparent that Gabe’s Corvette wasn’t parked in its customary spot in the driveway.
My cousin gave me a sympathetic look. “He’ll be home soon, sweetcakes.”
I patted his hand, still curled around the steering wheel. “We both got us some kind of troubles, don’t we, Cousin?”
“Amen, sister Albenia,” he said, leaning over and kissing my cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow and find out the scoop on Dove and Isaac.”
Inside the house the answering machine blinked a single message. I hit play, anticipating Gabe’s baritone voice. Instead, it was Detective Hudson’s.
“Hud, here. Mrs. Harper, in the confused melee of being injured, I failed to inform you that I observed you conversing with the senior Mrs. Brown and I expect you in my office with a full report tomorrow morning.”
“Fat chance, Detective,” I muttered, pulling on my barn jacket. I left a note for Gabe telling him I’d be at the ranch and to come out if he got home early enough.
I stayed at the ranch until nine o’clock, catching up with Isaac and trying to pry something out of Dove about her fund-raising project.
“In good time, honeybun,” she said, “in good time. Now you and Isaac go out on the porch and catch up while I make some phone calls.” She stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on Isaac’s lips. “Come get me before you go to bed, sweetie, and I’ll heat you up some warm almond milk.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, gazing down at her with pure adoration. She smiled back at him, her own soft peach face matching his glow. Not for the first time I wondered why in the world I ever worried about this sweet, sweet man hurting my gramma.
Out on the porch, we sat on the swing, rocking in companionable silence, watching the evening shadows turn the oaks to black matchsticks against a cobalt blue sky. I tried not to peek at my watch every five minutes and wonder where Gabe was and what he was doing.