Chapter Nine
Beth Fortier had pushed herself hard in physical therapy today, determined to be back on her feet as fast as possible. The Rise and Shine was going to open again soon, thanks to Gemma, and Beth could hardly wait.
She'd missed her work these past few months, and while her friends had been wonderful coming to visit and helping where they could, she didn't like feeling like a burden.
She and Gemma had that in common.
Beth leaned back in the front seat of Cotton Cyrus's Oldsmobile and sighed.
"You pushed yourself too hard today, Beth," Cotton said from behind the wheel.
He'd picked her up every day for weeks and driven her nearly an hour to her daily therapy appointments. While she was being tortured, he sat patiently, reading the paper or doing a crossword puzzle until she was done. Then he'd load her tired body back in his Olds and drive her nearly an hour back home, help her inside, and do it all again the next day.
She didn't know what she'd done to deserve such a good friend, but she thanked the Lord every day that she had him.
"I'm ready to get back to work," she told him.
He was a tall man, his head nearly brushing the roof of his sedan. His salt-and-pepper hair was more salt now that it had been a few years ago, but he was still in possession of most of it—a trait she'd always found attractive. His eyes were still a vivid blue—as bright as they'd been fifty years ago—and filled with gentle kindness.
Being near him made her miss her Walter so much, she almost couldn't bear it. He'd been gone a long time, but she could still remember his laugh and the way he made her feel like a queen.
Just like Cotton Cyrus did now, chauffeuring her back and forth without complaint.
"You can't rush these things. Besides, the sooner you're out of therapy, the sooner our little dates will end." His smile creased his cheeks and warmed his bright eyes.
He really was a handsome man. Not that Beth noticed such things at the ripe old age of seventy-one.
"These aren't dates, Cotton," she said, giving him an indulgent grin.
"They're as close to dates as a man can get with you. If you'd accepted my many and varied invitations, then you wouldn't have to make a poor old man resort to such trickery just to be in your presence."
Her cheeks warmed at the thought of him wanting to spend time with her, so she turned her head and stared at the passing scenery.
Sections of stone had been cut away to make room for the road. The carved paths left behind bare rock faces, tear-stained from the last spring rains. Everything was the fresh, pale green of new life and the promise of the coming summer. The trees were still budding, leaving dogwood blooms to stand out like ghostly clouds of fairy mist in the woods.
This was Beth's favorite time of year, when everything was filled with the promise of more to come. New life was just beginning, and the world was filled with hope.
She wondered how many more springs she would see before her turn on the world was over.
"You know," Cotton said in a considering tone, "I just realized that you're at my mercy. I can take you wherever I like, and there wouldn't be much you could do about it."
"Cotton Cyrus," she said, scolding. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"Ice cream."
Her mind whirled, trying to keep up. "Ice cream?"
"Yes. I'm taking you for ice cream. I know you have a sweet tooth and haven't been up to baking something to indulge it, so I will."
"I really don't want ice cream. Just take me home."
"I'll take you home after our date."
"It's not a date."
He turned and glanced at her for a moment, and while there was humor in his eyes, there was something else.
Longing.
Beth blinked in shock, unable to make sense of what she saw. Before she could, he looked at the road again and the moment was gone.
"I think we'll call it our second date. I don't think anyone would call the relationship police if we counted all of these trips to your therapy as our first. Do you?" He spoke as if nothing had happened, as if she wasn't shaken down to her core by a man who wasn't her husband.
"Our first date can't be taking me to fix my broken hip. That's not at all romantic."
"Ah, so you do want a first date."
"I didn't say that."
"Ice cream can be our first date if you really want. Or I could take you do a nice dinner somewhere. Whichever you prefer."
She was fumbling for an answer when he pulled into the little ice cream shop on the town square. It was too early in the day and the season for there to be a line, but there were several cars parked out front, and she could see the shadows of people inside.
Cotton hurried around the Olds, took her much-hated walker from the back and positioned it for her to stand.
She looked up at his expectant expression and knew there was no way she could say no to a man who'd been so kind to her for so long.
Cotton Cyrus was a good man. He was a great friend. She had no idea what she'd do without him. If he wanted to take her on a little ice cream date, then who was she to upset him?
Beth pushed to her feet with a little bit of effort and more than a little bit of pain. She was getting better, but not nearly fast enough to suit her.
She looked up into Cotton's kind eyes and said, "This is the best first date I've had in fifty years."
He smiled, and she felt herself fall for him in a mad, swooping rush.
***
The damage to the bakery roof was no accident.
Saxon knelt to inspect the damage further, but he'd chopped down enough trees to easily recognize the patterns ax cuts left behind.
No falling tree limb could have made these cuts. Someone had stood on this flat roof and chopped all the way through layers of tar, waterproofing and wood.
Whoever had done it had been up here a while, hacking away.
He pulled out his cell and dialed his cousin, Sheriff Conlan Grace.
"Hey, cuz. What's up?"
"Are you in the area? I have something I think you should look at."
"Where are you?"
"Aunt Beth's bakery."
"Be there in ten."
Saxon pocketed his phone and resisted the urge to pull back the waterproofing to see just how far the water damage had spread. If there was evidence of who'd done this, he didn't want to disturb it.
By the time he was back on the ground, Conlan was rolling to a stop in front of the bakery.
He had the same dark hair and green eyes as the rest of the Grace clan, but was taller and thinner than most. He wore his uniform with a palpable sense of pride, and his gun belt with as much familiar ease as Saxon wore his tool belt.
Conlan greeted him with a smile and a brief man hug, complete with two hard slaps on the back. "Good to see you. What's up?"
Straight to the point, which Saxon appreciated. Gemma wasn't here right now—she'd gone to check on Aunt Beth—but that didn't mean she couldn't pop by at any time.
This was definitely something he wanted to have a second opinion on before he jumped to conclusions.
"If that cushy job of yours hasn't left you too soft to climb a ladder, there's something I want you to look at. Better if I don't say anything until you form your own opinion."
Conlan nodded easily. "Lead the way."
Once both men were on the roof, Saxon didn't need to show him where to look. The gaping hole was obvious.
As always, Conlan sized up the situation within seconds. "Did you find a hatchet or ax laying around?"
"No. And I haven't touched anything. This is just how I found it."
"Any idea who might want a muffin badly enough to chop their way inside a bakery?" Conlan asked, only half-joking.
"Based on the amount of water damage inside, the hole has been here for a while—weeks, maybe months."
Conlan knelt beside the hole. "When did you find it?"
"I knew there was water damage, but I didn't see this until seconds before I called you."
"Could be kids," Conlan stated in a tone that said he didn't believe it for a second.
"I don't know many kids who would exert this kind of energy on a lark. As much damage is here, there was some serious sweat involved. Could be a whole group of kids, I guess—each taking a turn."
Conlan shook his dark head. His sunglasses reflected the scene, putting it in spinning motion. "No way kids could do this and keep from laughing enough to draw attention of the neighbors." He pointed to the row of houses behind the bakery. "Someone would have seen or heard something and reported a pile of kids up here."
"If not kids, then who?"
"Someone who wanted to hurt sweet Aunt Beth."
"That's a bit of a jump to a conclusion, isn't it?" Saxon asked.
"Either someone wanted inside the bakery—which if they did, there were plenty of glass windows they could have broken to get in—or they wanted to do damage where it wouldn't easily be seen. There's a hell of a lot of rage here. You don't do this much work without something fueling you."
"Who could possibly be that mad at Aunt Beth?"
Conlan shrugged. "Could have been a tweaker who didn't know this was her property. They could have been so high they thought it was a girlfriend's house or something. We've had a hell of a time with meth labs in the woods. That shit is everywhere, and every time we take out one operation, another one springs up to take its place." He sneered. "Fucking disease, if you ask me."
"So, what do we do about this?"
"I'll write up a report. Aunt Beth will have to report it to her insurance company."
"Will you be able to find who did this?"
Conlan shook his head. "Unlikely. Even if the weapon was here we probably wouldn't be able to get prints if this happened as long ago as you thought. We've had heavy rain, but that was weeks ago." He stood and scanned the area. "I'll go ask some questions. See if the neighbors saw anything. But honestly, this is small potatoes compared to what's on my plate right now. Whoever did this is probably long gone."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because if someone was out to hurt Aunt Beth, this wouldn't be an isolated incident." He paused for a second. "Her broken hip was an accident, right? No foul play?"
"None. She was at home alone when she fell. I was the one who found her."
Conlan nodded. "I'll do what I can, but don't hold your breath. In cases like this it's best to just fix the damage and move on."
"So, I'm good to start repairs?"
"Let me send over a guy to get some photos first, and call Aunt Beth's insurance agent to come take a peek."
"Rain is moving in again tomorrow."
"I'll get him over here this afternoon."
"Thanks, man. I owe you."
Conlan grinned. "If you can get me some of Aunt Beth's oatmeal raisin cookies, we'll call it even. I miss those damn things so much I dream about them."
"I'll see what I can do." But Saxon wasn't thinking about asking Aunt Beth for favors. His mind was firmly on the younger Fortier woman with the brown sugar eyes and perfect ass.
And Conlan had just handed him the perfect excuse to see her again.