He nodded. “You only ever cried when you were sick. I never could figure out why you carried on when you were with her, but not with me.” One side of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “Guess you liked me.”
“I made up for the crying today,” she said, giving a little laugh through her tears.
“You know who they are?” I asked him. I couldn’t imagine grandparents not wanting to know their grandchild. But then I remembered something Zinnia James had said to me a few months ago. Some people couldn’t turn a blind eye to what they deemed immoral—even if they were guilty of the same—or worse. I was betting that Gracie’s grandparents fell into that category, but I so wanted to be wrong.
“Before your mother walked away, she said one thing.” Will ran his hand over his face. He suddenly looked tired and drawn. “She said that maybe now her parents would let her back into their house.”
“Because she didn’t have me anymore?” Gracie asked.
“Not you, exactly,” he said. “Hell, Gracie, they don’t even know who you are. They just know Naomi had a baby.”
Gracie and I both stared at him. “They don’t?”
Will shook his head. “Your mom left a diaper bag. Your birth certificate was there. Grace Mcafferty Flores. She’d given you both of our names and listed me as the father. But seeing her name is what threw me. She’d told me her last name was Williams, but it wasn’t. I found out later that was her mother’s maiden name.”
“So she wanted her family’s money, but not their name?”
Will shrugged. “Baby, I honestly don’t know. She came to see you a few times, but you cried whenever she touched you. It was like she’d taken away a piece of candy. You screamed bloody murder.”
“Why?” Gracie whispered.
“You were still a baby, so you couldn’t tell me why.”
Gracie stared at him, the pitch of her voice rising slightly. “You know how you said you saw a light around my mother?” He nodded and she went on. “I feel that lightness now. I don’t know. I can’t really explain it.”
I knew just what she meant. For me, I was sure it was because I was back home where I belonged, had discovered my charm, and was content. I imagined Gracie’s lightness had to do with her growing more mature and figuring out who she is as a person.
We talked for a few more minutes before Will said to her, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, baby, but I just didn’t know how. I’ve never met your grandparents and I don’t know much about them. They run in a different circle than we do.”
Right. They were definitely part of the haves in Bliss, and ran with Mrs. James and company.
“Your mother refused to talk about it and said they couldn’t meet you. I probably shouldn’t have gone along with it, but I didn’t want to risk losing you.”
Gracie sat quietly for a few seconds before standing, then leaned down to give him a hug. “It’s okay, Daddy.” When she stood, she had a determined look on her face. “But I’m going to be a Margaret and everyone can see how a regular country girl like me cleans up, and one day Mama can just eat a big ol’ helping of crow when I go up and introduce myself to my grandparents.”
Chapter 20
Even though it was made of red bricks, Bliss’s jailhouse looked about as secure as an old outhouse. But no matter how crumbly and ramshackle it appeared, it was enough to keep Zinnia James from fleeing Hood County. I felt like Scarlett O’Hara when she got herself all gussied up to go visit Rhett Butler in jail. Only instead of plantation curtains–turned-gown, I’d worn a pink-white-and-black skirt and a tank top that was a slightly lighter shade of pink.
When I walked into the old building just off the square, the air-conditioning sent a chill through me and I wished I had on velvet instead of cotton. They must have set the temperature at sixty degrees. Hoping to freeze confessions out of the guilty.
At least this wasn’t a horse jail like Rhett had been in, but then again, Mrs. James wasn’t having nearly the fun he’d had. I was prepared for the worst, but with any luck the fabric swatches I’d brought with me would cheer up Mrs. James. I waited at the receptionist’s counter to check in. Which was taking forever… and a day.
“Harlow Cassidy, as I live and breathe.” Deputy Gavin McClaine sidled up next to me, knocking back his cowboy hat so he could give me a slow, appraising look. All he needed was a toothpick between his teeth to complete the picture of a hillbilly lawman with too much power and too much good looks. “I heard tell you keep yourself pretty well concerned with all the goings-on in Bliss. And here you are to see an accused murderess. Imagine my surprise and delight… considering the murder weapon belonged to you.”
“I had nothing to do with Macon Vance, Gavin,” I said, my accent deepening to match his. Southern speech was contagious. Before long, I’d have my drawl back completely.
“Deputy McClaine,” he said, adding, “And ’course you didn’t. But I wouldn’t leave town if I were you, Harlow.”
My feathers ruffled. “Ms. Cassidy.”
He cracked what he probably considered a smile, but really it was a muscle in his cheek pulling up and his eye twitching downward until they met in a stiff spasm. “What can I do you for?” he asked.
“I’m here to see Mrs. James.” I pulled opened the tote bag full of fabric samples and my sketchbook so he could take a peek inside.
“Let me guess. You’re making her a dress.”
“No wonder you’re a deputy,” I said. “Nothing gets by you.” I didn’t know if he was playing or if he was really this cocky, but he was a laugh a minute either way.
“Takes a lot of training to be able to make deductions like that,” he said, offering up a wink.
So maybe he wasn’t
“Needles. Pshaw. To what, pick a lock?” I laughed, but a thud rolled through my body. “I had nothing to do with that poor man’s murder, Deputy, and neither did Mrs. James. My scissors,” I added, “were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“If you say so, Ms. Cassidy.” He put extra emphasis on the Ms. part of my name, like he was mocking me, although I couldn’t figure out why. Unless it had to do with the fact that his father was dating my mother. I had a crazy thought—if they did end up getting married at some point, something Mama was downright skittish about, Gavin McClaine and I could be stepsiblings.
Lord have mercy.
I stepped back while he rifled through the fabrics. A shiver wound through me as he touched them, but not a single image popped into my mind. I shook my head. Maybe rattling things around would dislodge a picture of Gavin McClaine in something other than his beige deputy uniform. But my mind was blank. Not a good sign for the deputy. I’d begun to worry that my inability to summon up a person’s perfect garment meant that person wouldn’t be around long enough to wear whatever I designed for him. My vision glazed and my head suddenly felt fuzzy and heavy. “Gavin… um, Deputy… are you by any chance leaving town soon?”
Maybe Gavin McClaine was best suited to his deputy clothes. That had to be it. I wasn’t having a premonition. He was just a one-dimensional fashion disaster.
He eyed me like a good ol’ Southern boy might eye a copperhead slithering down the middle of a dirt driveway. “I just got here, Ms. Cassidy, and the whole town is going to hell in a handbasket. We’ve had two break- ins and an assault, all in the past twenty-four hours. The sheriff can’t handle all the crime by himself, so why in the world would I turn around and leave again?”
“Just a passing curiosity,” I answered, zeroing in on the break-ins and assault. I’d come back to Bliss thinking it was the safest little town this side of the Mississippi, but then the murder in my yard had tainted my view. Now there’d been another murder and two more incidents? What was going on? “Who was assaulted? Was it a house that was broken into, or a business?” My house
“Doctor’s house,” he answered.
