Chapter Nineteen
Elvira’s house was a tiny, salmon pink cottage on the outskirts of town. Her lot was large and wooded, making the one-story home look even smaller under the arching oaks and birch trees.
Phoebe and John followed the meandering sidewalk through hosta plants and ferns, past a grouping of mischievous gnomes dressed as The Beatles, to the covered front stoop.
“I think Pierce Acres needs a gnome,” Phoebe said, slipping her arm through John’s as he pressed the bell.
“I think a gnome is the last thing Pierce Acres needs,” John said affably.
They heard footsteps from within, and Phoebe leaned in closer. “By the way, Elvira knows we slept together. Hi, El!”
She felt John tense beside her and jumped at the pinch he inflicted on her ass.
“Come on in. Hazel’s already here. We’re out back.”
John held the door for Phoebe and Elvira pressed a wine glass into her hand. “Beer’s in the fridge, John,” Elvira said, leading the way through a postage stamp-sized living room with floor-to-ceiling bookcases bowing under their literary load.
There was a small fish tank with two colorful fish and a scuba diver that took up most of the sideboard in a dining room cozy enough to hold a table for four very good friends who didn’t mind sitting on top of each other.
The kitchen was miniscule, but each inch of counter and cabinet were organized for efficiency.
Elvira, dressed in an off-the-shoulder gauze tunic and denim shorts, pushed through the screen door and Phoebe sighed with pleasure. The cottage’s back deck had more square footage than the house itself. A beefy farmhouse table with seating for eight took up most of the top tier of the deck. Next to it, a cozy screened-in porch looked like the perfect place to spend a rainy day reading.
Strings of lights raced from the roof of the house out into the yard to the trunk of a massive oak and back again, bathing the yard in a soft glow.
The landscaping, more of everything, overflowed from large beds and made Phoebe think of the jungle. There were colorful pots of herbs and flowers scattered around the deck, a hammock tucked away in the corner of the yard, a fire pit, and a whimsical fountain.
“Wow, El. This is spectacular,” Phoebe breathed.
“Home sweet home,” Elvira said. “You good on wine, Hazel?” she called to the woman lounging on a chaise.
Hazel tilted her head in their direction. “Shh, I think I’m meditating.”
“I heard you snore a minute ago. That’s not meditating. That’s napping,” Elvira said, cheerfully topping off Hazel’s glass.
“I got called in to the park at 3 a.m. this morning to help Linus Fitzsimmons find the clothes he took off after drinking too much punch,” she yawned.
Phoebe wondered what kind of a man little Billy would turn into with that kind of father.
“Anybody home?” Michael’s voice carried from the front door back through the house.
“Out back,” Elvira hollered. “I didn’t tell him you were coming,” she whispered conspiratorially to Hazel.
Michael, toting two six packs, waltzed through the backdoor wearing a fitted Blue Moon Fire Department t-shirt and jeans. “Pierce, you forget where you keep your razor,” he asked rubbing a hand over his own clean-shaven jaw.
Before John could fire back an insult, Michael spotted Hazel reclining like a goddess on her chair. He missed the step and went down hard.
John rescued one of the six-packs before it hit the deck and grinned.
“Oh, that was worth it,” Elvira whispered to Phoebe. “You okay, there Michael?”
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They pulled up chairs around the chaise that Hazel had abandoned so Michael could elevate his swollen ankle. She’d even applied the first aid herself, wrapping his ankle in a snug Ace bandage and topping it with a bag of ice.
Phoebe leaned into John’s side as everyone unwrapped their subs. “I think he literally just fell for her.” She snickered at her own humor, and John gave her a dry look. “Oh, come on. That’s funny.”
“Debatable,” John whispered back. “How’s the ankle there, Cardona? You going to be able to climb a ladder to save any ferrets?” John opened a new beer for his friend.
Michael scoffed. “Please, this won’t even slow down my six-minute mile.” He said it while watching Hazel’s face.
Hazel eyed him up. “Six flat?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Six thirty-two,” he said with no small amount of pride.
“Huh, not bad,” Hazel said, raising her fair eyebrows.
Phoebe could see it coming even before Michael did.
“Not bad? What do you run?” Michael leaned forward in the chaise, daring her to beat his time.
Hazel lifted her wine glass to her lips. “Six nineteen.”
Michael called bullshit, and they immediately began planning a race to settle the dispute.
“They’re going to be married and having babies in no time,” Phoebe predicted.
“They’ve been dancing around each other for ten years. It’s going to take more than a sprained ankle and Cardona’s fat head to get those two out of their own ways,” he predicted.
“What are you two whispering about over there?” Michael demanded. “Lovers’ secrets?”
“Oooooh!” Elvira and Hazel made kissy noises reminiscent of twelve-year-old girls at a sleepover.
“I forgot to mention that Michael knows, too,” Phoebe said in a stage whisper.
“You’ve got a big mouth,” John told Phoebe.
She grinned guiltily. “Good news travels fast in Blue Moon.” Which meant that, by tomorrow, most of the town would know that John was sleeping with his new farm hand. She hoped Mrs. Nordemann wouldn’t take offense to pre-marital sex. Not that she and John were going to be marital.
John’s bland tone snapped her out of her reverie. “Then I guess the entire town already knows Cardona here fell on his ass just looking at our sheriff friend.”
“Oooooh!” Elvira and Phoebe crooned as Hazel sent Michael a long, questioning look. The tips of his ears turned pink again, something John didn’t hesitate to point out to Hazel.
They ate and joked as the sky turned inky black and the stars popped out between the leaves of the trees. Hazel filled them in on some of her more amusing small town calls for aide. Elvira, her leg looped over the arm of her chair, filled them in on stories and scandals from Blue Moon’s previous generation, and Phoebe answered questions about Penn State, sharing her impressive—and necessary—knowledge of the school’s football program.
Elvira started a fire and turned on the radio in her kitchen, the blues—a neutral choice for Blue Moon, which was in a war between the ’60s and ’80s—poured through the window into the backyard. They lit citronella candles and incense sticks to chase away the mosquitos and broke into Elvira’s stash of homemade ice cream.
John looped an arm over Phoebe’s shoulders as Michael put everyone in stitches with a story about an English class substitute and Linus Fitzsimmons’ special brownie recipe.
And right then, every damn thing in Phoebe’s life was perfect.
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When Elvira got up to open another bottle of wine, she asked Phoebe and Hazel to come help her.
“Ooooh, girl talk,” Michael called after them as they trooped inside.
Elvira held up two bottles. “Cab or blanc?”
Hazel and Phoebe pondered. “Blanc,” they agreed.
Phoebe grabbed a bag of pretzels.
“Are you still hungry?” Hazel groaned stroking her flat stomach. “I ate my entire sub. All twelve inches of it.”
“Twelve? Really, I wouldn’t have expected Michael to have that kind of weaponry,” Elvira teased.
Hazel grabbed a handful of pretzels from the bag and tossed them in Elvira’s direction. “Hilarious.”
“Soooo, what is going on with you and Michael?” Phoebe asked, leaning over the foot of countertop on the peninsula. Elvira joined her and stared expectantly.
“Yeah, Haze. What’s going on with you and Fire Chief Hot Pants?”
“For a woman who doesn’t want a relationship, you sure have a lot of interest in others’,” Hazel said, pouring the sauvignon blanc.
“Just because I’m not getting married in this lifetime doesn’t mean I don’t do relationships. I do just fine in that department, thank you very much. Also, A HA! You said ‘relationship’ in relation to Michael.”
Phoebe pointed at Elvira. “I believe the esteemed Ms. Eustace is correct.”
Hazel rolled her blue eyes ceilingward. “Are you sure you weren’t born to some hippies here in town and adopted? I feel like I’m trapped in a room with Nordemann right now.”
“I hate to point it out, but you’re avoiding the question,” Phoebe grinned. “There’s something there, right?”
“Ugh, fine. I may have had the smallest crush on him in high school, but the way he asked me to prom? All big man on campus?” Hazel snorted. “I want a regular guy, not Mr. I’m God’s Gift to Women.”
“He is a flirt,” Elvira agreed.
“But he clearly has a thing for you,” Phoebe argued.
“See? What did I tell you? Nordemann,” Hazel said, slipping her hand in the pretzel bag.
“I’m serious. The man just fell on his ass just because he caught a glimpse of you,” Phoebe reminded her.
“Hmm.”
“Yeah, but how is Hazel supposed to ignore his long history of womanizing?”
Phoebe waved away Elvira’s concern. “Please, long, ancient history.”
“He asked you out, didn’t he?” Elvira reminded Phoebe.
“To annoy John. Besides, the first time I saw him look at Hazel at the town meeting, I knew there were sparks aplenty.”
“So, one night of sex turns you into a relationship expert?” Hazel questioned.
“Correction, one night of phenomenally mind-blowing sex. And, Exhibit B,” she waved her hand in front of her face. “I’m not blind. Anyone can see Michael has a very heavy thing for you.”
“Having a thing for and behaving as a partner in a monogamous relationship are two very different things,” Elvira pointed out, holding up her empty glass.
Hazel poured obligingly. “And do I even want to be the thousandth notch in his bed post?” Hazel argued.
“Hazel, if anyone can lay down the law with Cardona, it’s you,” Phoebe predicted.
Hazel poured. “I see what you’re doing. Good cop, bad cop. It doesn’t work on an actual cop.”
Phoebe grinned. “Just giving you some food for thought.”
“You sure you aren’t moving here permanently?” Hazel asked Phoebe. “You’d fit right in with the rest of these gossip mongers and meddlers.”
“Phoebe’s got some family stuff to take care of after this summer,” Elvira announced vaguely.
Phoebe shot her a look.
“Uh-uh.” Hazel shook her finger in Phoebe’s face. “I shared, now you. Or I’ll dig my service weapon out of my purse and interrogate you properly.”
Elvira snickered. “When’s the last time you had to interrogate anyone?”
“When two of those punk-ass Karlinski kids took Carson’s tractor for a joy ride through downtown before parking it in the creek. And back to Phoebe.” Hazel pointed pistol fingers in her direction.
“Stupid town and stupid people wanting to know everything,” Phoebe muttered.
“Yeah, not so fun now is it, smarty pants?” Hazel’s grin was sharp. “Spill it, sister.”
So Phoebe did over another glass of wine and more pretzels.
“Well, that sucks. What about you and Farmer Gorgeous out there?” Hazel nodded toward the backyard.
“We’re just temporary. Monogamous but temporary,” she explained.
“You look pretty sad when you say that,” Elvira prodded, her chin in her hand.
Phoebe wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. I think maybe there’s something in the water in this town. I’m actually not looking forward to leaving.”
She didn’t miss the long look that passed between Elvira and Hazel.
“What?” she demanded.
“Nothing, geez. Suspicious much?” Hazel covered.
“You’re still going to be in town for the Sit-In, right?” Elvira asked, glancing at the kitten calendar on the front of her refrigerator.
“The Sit-In?”
Hazel and Elvira shared another look. “Oh, you can’t miss the Sit-In,” Hazel grinned.
“What are you protesting?”
“Nothing,” Elvira laughed. “It’s the anniversary of this one time that the town protested something—”
“The library closing,” Hazel supplied.
“Right, right. Anyway, our sleepy little hippie town hit the news that night for the protest staged at the library. People showed up, hats were passed, and the library stayed open.”
“As the years went on, there weren’t as many things to protest here. So it’s more of a carnival,” Elvira explained. “With handcuffs.”
“Handcuffs?” Phoebe blinked.
“It’s part of the tradition. And we still raise money, though,” Hazel continued. “A different cause every year.”
“What’s this year’s cause,” Phoebe asked. God, what a sweet, kooky little town. It was going to tear a piece of her heart out to leave this ridiculous place.
“As far as I know,” Hazel said breezily, “Mayor Nordemann hasn’t announced it yet. We’re not exactly good at planning around here.”