It was easy for families to overlap around here. Miranda understood that, but it had thrown Jac the first time Miranda had badgered her friend into joining her for a visit. The second time Jac had been to the area had been when Natalie was injured. The third time had been for the movie.
This, the fourth, was back on the negative scale of things again.
She’d have to bring Jac back for the sweet potato festival in September. Miranda had made it one of her goals to get Jac out to actually do things that weren’t always bureau-related.
“Phil and Deane have big plans for these herds.” Levi crossed muscled arms over his chest. He had certainly gotten better with age—more, he still had the kind expression in his eyes that had always been there. He’d been her first Galahad—when it had really mattered. She’d never forget that. “I don’t remember much about Lesley—other than what you already know. We were casual friends, but his daddy kept him close to home. You remember how Luther Beise could be.”
“I didn’t interact with Luther that often. Just in passing. Grandma wouldn’t allow it.”
“No, I can’t see Flo allowing that. They always did have problems. The Beises. Always fighting. Even with each other.”
Miranda nodded. “Monica could be the same way when it was important to her. Mostly, she was quiet.”
“Scared. I always thought she had that scared rabbit look about her.” Levi shot a contemplative look toward his young wife. She had a broom in her hands and had tied her hair up with a bandanna. One thing about ranch life—the work never ended. Levi watched his wife with a look of fascination and love in his eyes. Miranda smiled. Of all the men she knew, Levi Masterson deserved a woman to love him. He was just such a good guy.
“Yes. She always did. I remember her being anxious over everything.” That had been one of the things that had made Miranda take Monica under her wing when they’d been nine and signed up for softball. Miranda hadn’t always lived in Masterson.
Her father had been military. They’d spent most of her childhood bouncing around the world from various post to post. Their parents would send them to Masterson the instant school was out for the summer—even when it wasn’t, sometimes, depending on where they were stationed—so that they could spend those few months with their cousins and their grandmother and grandfather, before they’d lost her grandfather.
She’d been nine or so when she’d met Monica. And that girl had been the one of the team without any friends, without anyone caring whether she was at practice or not.
Miranda had cared. And by the time the softball season had ended, Monica had made several friends on the team. Over time, those friendships had just grown. Then, Miranda’s father had sent his daughters to live in Masterson permanently. With their grandmother and Aunt Jessi—her father’s youngest sister.
Her aunt Jessi was gone now—a victim of ovarian cancer almost eight years ago—and her father was off doing diplomatic work in Mexico. But Masterson would always be Miranda’s home.
Monica had always spoken of Masterson County like it was the worst place on earth. It had been one of the few things they had disagreed on. “I think it was a part of her personality.”
Obsessive compulsive. Those had been the words most used to describe Monica. She had to have everything lined up neatly, had to sit in her chair at a precise angle to the teacher’s desk in every class. In classrooms with thirty desks, Monica Beise was always in the second one from the front, three rows from the door. Which meant Miranda was usually in one of the nine desks that surrounded that one.
She hadn’t minded too much.
Her friend had had very few people who just accepted her for the quirks she had.
In that regard, Jac had always reminded her of Monica in a lot of ways.
“I remember her brother, of course. But we didn’t cross paths that much, either. Not until I got to high school.” And he’d turned irritating. Watching her. Miranda would never forget how vulnerable that had made her feel.
“He always had a thing for you, Randi,” Levi said, surprising her. “From about the time you were in junior high. Seventh, eighth grade maybe. Some of the guys teased him about it, so he shut down quickly. But I don’t think his crush ever went away.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Levi sent her his trademark grin. “Of course, you didn’t. I didn’t tell you. Had a thing for you myself for a few years, remember?”
His wife snorted. “She was smart enough to escape you, Levi.”
He winced good-naturedly. “She’s feeling a bit off today. And very, very cranky at me at the moment. Morning sickness, you know.”
The pride in his tone was hard to miss. It had his wife sending him a soft look. One filled with love and exasperation.
Miranda congratulated them quickly.
“Yeah, there’s something in the water of Masterson County. All three of my sisters are pregnant, too,” Levi’s wife said. “Pip is two weeks overdue, and Matt’s a nervous wreck. We’re expecting her to pop at any time. Masterson boys are potent.”
“You’d better believe it.” He wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist. Then he turned serious. “All joking aside…I know you have questions.”
“Rumor had it there was trouble with Luther Beise and Mrs. Ramey about a week or so before they disappeared.”
“She was good friends with Helen, I think. Bosom buddies, my mother said. We were discussing Helen right after she was found.” Levi motioned his wife to the porch swing, then sank down beside her. Miranda rested her hip against the porch rail. She knew better than to rush a witness or source. Memories were fluid. One couldn’t predict what someone would say, what would trigger a detail. Time. Patience went a long way
