“Lois, lovely to see you,” Margaret squealed. “How is your husband’s cold? We missed him in church last week.”
Rachel moved on; it took her two aisles to find the pickling spices, which were with the canning jars. Then she backtracked to the baking aisle. There, to her pleasant surprise, she found Coyote Finch tossing bags of chocolate chips into her cart. With her, belted securely into the child seat, was an adorable little girl, her hair in tiny pigtails tied with red bows, wearing a sparkly red cowboy hat, a fluorescent red scarf, and furry boots.
Rachel smiled at the toddler. “Hi, Raysheene. Hey, Coyote. Where are the other kids? Helping Papa?” As usual, Coyote, a genuine ex-California free spirit, was dressed like no one else in Stone Mill and possibly like no one else anywhere. Her trim form was wrapped in an oversized Peruvian alpaca poncho; purple, skin-tight, faux-leather slacks; and macramé gladiator sandals that laced halfway to her knees.
“Yes, thankfully, the tribe is all with Blade.” Her friend opened a bag of animal crackers and handed the child one. “Don’t gobble, we don’t want you to choke again,” she admonished gently. “Raysheene is just coming to terms with solids. Her last foster mother still had her on a bottle and baby formula. Can you believe it? And she’s such a big girl.”
The child beamed and threw up her arms. “Big!”
Raysheene was the couple’s newest foster child, a child born with Down syndrome whom they were in the process of adopting. Rachel was continually surprised by the Finches’ ability to welcome mentally and physically challenged children into their large family, all the while growing their family business, homeschooling their brood, and maintaining a sense of humor.
“Love the new organic section,” Coyote said. “I don’t care how much chemical-free products cost, I’m buying them. I always liked Wagler’s, but I’m over the moon since they started carrying organic wheat and rye flour. Raysheene has a delicate digestive system, and I have to be so careful with her diet.”
Rachel nodded. “I like the changes here, too.”
Wagler’s had been an institution here in Stone Mill for decades. It had been difficult to imagine it without Ed and Polly at the helm, but the new owners seemed friendly and totally dedicated to keeping Wagner’s a place where the community preferred to shop rather than drive over the mountain to State College. Everything here was practically the same as before, including the store name and staff, but they had updated and enlarged the deli and the produce section and added an aisle of organic foods.
Coyote leaned close. “You’re quite the subject of a discussion over in aisle one. Margaret and Lois.” She raised an eyebrow teasingly. “If people in this town were into gambling, I think there would be a running bet on whether or not your wedding will go off as scheduled.”
Rachel grimaced. “Which one of them thinks that one of us will back out?”
Coyote chuckled. “Both of them.”
Rachel shook her head. “You’re a troublemaker.”
Her friend laughed. “I know.” She took a tissue out of her beaded purse and wiped the crumbs off Raysheene’s mouth. The child giggled and Coyote hugged her. She glanced at Rachel. “Got to run. Hungry kids, hungry husband. You’re welcome to join us for supper. Blade’s making his famous vegan chili.”
“Thanks, but I’ll take a rain check,” Rachel answered. “Lots to do at home.”
Coyote nodded. “I can imagine, but you know you’re always welcome. Anytime. You and Evan, if you can ever catch up with him.”
“Cops’ hours.”
“And yours are just as bad.” Coyote gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and headed off in the direction of the registers. Then she stopped abruptly and reversed the cart back to where Rachel stood. Her friend came close and asked quietly, “I have to ask you, how is Moses? Have you seen him again?”
Rachel shook her head. “I found a lawyer to represent him, but so far, he’s not recanting his confession.” She looked into Coyote’s compassionate eyes. “I don’t think he did it.”
Coyote frowned. “Why would he say he had done such a thing? Do you have any proof?”
“Not yet, but I’m still asking questions.”
Coyote squeezed her hand. “Follow your intuition. It’s led you to answers before. Doing this, it’s the right thing to do. No matter how it ends.”
Rachel sighed. “You and Mary Aaron are the only ones who think so.”
Her friend nodded. “I’ll keep you in my prayers.”
“And Moses. He needs them most.”
Coyote smiled. “Both of you.”
“Thanks,” Rachel said. “We can use all the help we can get.”
* * *
“Okay, I’m just going to put this out there. When you suggested a date, this wasn’t what I had in mind. Not exactly my idea of a romantic afternoon with my girl,” Evan protested. He walked ahead of her through the tall grass, carrying the wicker basket stuffed with the lunch Ada had made for them. “You know there could be rattlesnakes up here.”
Rachel smiled and let him fuss. It was a beautiful fall afternoon, sunny with hardly a breeze. When she’d learned that he actually had a Saturday off, she’d begged him to take her on a picnic. And Evan had fallen into her trap by agreeing and offering to let her pick the spot, even though he thought a picnic in November was a crazy idea.
“You know, any other woman would choose a waterfall or maybe a quiet woods clearing beside a creek. But, no, my girl wants to picnic at the site of a homicide.”
“It’s important that I see where Daniel Fisher died. You describing it to me isn’t enough. I’m trying to picture the whole thing in my mind,” she said, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. This afternoon, he was wearing civvies: blue jeans, Dr. Martens,
