Bought the Farm Read online

“I’ll be right back with yours.” The waitress pointed at Shelby.

  Kelly took a bite of rice pudding and rolled her eyes in rapture. “It’s like scratching an itch.”

  “What?” Had she missed something? Shelby wondered.

  Kelly laughed. “Satisfying a craving. It’s like scratching an itch.” She took another bite of her pudding, then pointed her spoon at Shelby. “Poor Jax. Not only was he in love with his brother’s fiancée—he had to watch his brother break her heart.”

  “I wonder why on earth Jessie took up with Travis again. Jax seems like such a nice guy and Travis was . . . well, he was certainly a player, from what I can tell.”

  “When some women lose their hearts to a guy, their brain obviously follows.”

  “That certainly seems to be the case here,” Shelby said, leaning back as the waitress slid a plate in front of her.

  17

  Dear Reader,

  This murder that happened here at Love Blossom Farm is getting more and more complicated. Everyone seems to be mad at everyone else! Jessie was mad at Travis for leaving her at the altar, Jax is mad at Paislee for telling him about the affair between Jessie and Travis, and Cody was mad at Travis . . . well, just because. I think this group is going to implode before they ever cut another record!

  Shelby was sweeping the porch when Amelia got off the school bus. The rain had stopped, the clouds had been chased away by the strong breeze, and the sun glinted off the puddles dotting the driveway. The air was still heavy with humidity, and Shelby felt her hair sticking to the back of her neck.

  She squinted into the distance. Someone was with Amelia, but it wasn’t Billy. Billy took a different bus and would probably arrive shortly. It looked as if Amelia had brought home a friend. It didn’t look like her best friend, Katelyn. Shelby wondered who it could be.

  By the time the two girls had walked the length of the driveway, their cheeks were red and perspiration shone on their foreheads. As soon as she reached the porch, Amelia dropped her backpack on the floor, where it landed with a thud, sending the dust in the pile Shelby had been collecting flying.

  “Gosh, it’s hot,” she said, fanning herself with her hand. She turned to her companion. “Mom, this is Lorraine Spurlinger. We’re in math class together.”

  Shelby held out her hand. “Hi, Lorraine.”

  Lorraine smiled shyly and shook Shelby’s hand.

  She wasn’t as unattractive as her picture on Facebook had made her out to be. Of course not everyone photographed well. Shelby thought she had a sweet smile but also sensed a vulnerability about her that had probably encouraged the bullies.

  “You girls look like you could use a cold drink.”

  Amelia blew a lock of damp hair off her forehead. “Can we go get ice cream, Mom?”

  Shelby glanced down the driveway. “Sure. As soon as Billy gets here.”

  “Come on,” Amelia said to Lorraine. “Let’s get something to drink while we wait.”

  The girls were still in the kitchen pouring lemonade when Shelby heard the front door slam and the thud of Billy’s backpack as it hit the floor.

  When he walked into the kitchen, his face was as red as Amelia’s and Lorraine’s had been. His shirt had parted company with his shorts, and his hair was plastered to his head with perspiration.

  Billy immediately opened the refrigerator and got out the jar of peanut butter.

  “Don’t eat that,” Amelia said. “Mom’s taking us for ice cream.”

  “You are?” Billy turned toward Shelby with a big grin on his face.

  Shelby noticed there was a smudge of dirt in the cleft of his chin and another smudge slashing through his eyebrow like a scar.

  “We’re going to Koetsier’s for ice cream,” Shelby confirmed. “But please go wash your face first, okay?”

  Billy grumbled but headed toward the stairs.

  Amelia rolled her eyes. “He’s going to take forever.”

  “No, he’s not. Not with the prospect of ice cream.”

  Shelby had barely finished talking when they heard the water running in the upstairs bathroom, quickly followed by the sound of Billy’s footsteps on the stairs. Shelby wondered if all he’d done was turn the water on and off, but when he reappeared in the kitchen, his face was damp and reasonably clean.

  They piled into Shelby’s car—Billy with a smile of triumph because he got to sit in the front seat, while Amelia and Lorraine sat in the back. Koetsier’s was barely more than a shack located on the main street, just beyond St. Andrews Church. It opened for ice cream when the weather got warm, and during the holiday season sold Christmas trees cut from a nearby farm.

  The parking lot was mostly dirt with a scattering of gravel and today, it was quite full. The heat had drawn everyone out, from mothers with children to high school kids sitting on the hoods of their cars eating cones and drinking milk shakes.

  Amelia looked over at a group of boys sitting in the back of an open SUV.

  Dear Reader, I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s embarrassed to be here with her mother. I remember feeling the same way when I was her age.

  Shelby went up to the makeshift counter and ordered cones for the girls—cookies and cream—and one for Billy, who had chosen cotton candy. Shelby decided to splurge and got a cup of rocky road for herself.

  They sat at one of the wobbly picnic tables. They were left out all winter and the wood was rough and splintered. The girls sat at one end—away from Shelby—and chatted quietly. Billy was engrossed in his cone, and Shelby tipped her face to the breeze that had continued to pick up and was getting cooler. The weather must be blowing in over Lake Michigan, Shelby thought.

  She looked around the parking lot. A girl was standing at the counter and from the back she looked familiar—long hair wound into a loose bun, white sleeveless blouse with decorative embroidery on the yoke, and well-worn faded and torn jeans.

  When she turned away from the counter, Shelby realized it was Paislee. Shelby looked around the parking lot again and noticed the band’s dusty van pulled into a spot in the back. Jax and Brian were leaning against the hood, talking.

  When Paislee turned, she must have spotted Shelby, because she walked over toward where Shelby was sitting.

  Lorraine stared at Paislee, her mouth hanging open. “Are you Paislee Fields?” she said.

  Paislee looked pleased and a slight flush colored her cheeks. “Yes.”

  “I love your music,” Lorraine said, her face turning even redder than Paislee’s.

  Paislee smiled. “Thank you.”

  Lorraine continued to stare for a few more moments, but then Amelia tapped her on the arm, and they went back to talking.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” Paislee said, dropping onto the bench next to Shelby, her voice becoming little more than a whisper.

  “Hopefully the police will know something soon.”

  “I hope so.” Paislee broke off a piece of her cone and nibbled on it. “It’s awful being cooped up in that motel.” She looked down at her hands. “Jax is mad at me,” she said.

  “Why?” Shelby asked, although she could guess the answer.

  “Because I told him about Travis and Jessie,” she said without looking up.

  “Ah,” Shelby said. “Why did you tell Jax? You must have known it would upset him.”

  Paislee shrugged her thin shoulders. “I guess because I was mad at Travis.” She gave a bitter-sounding laugh. “I know that doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

  Shelby kept her expression neutral. “Why were you mad at Travis?” she asked quietly.

  Paislee bit her lower lip. She looked so young, Shelby thought. Shelby herself was barely more than ten years older than Paislee, but everything she had been through—the births of two children, being widowed, raising Amelia and Billy alone after their father
died—made her feel as if she were a thousand years old in comparison.

  Paislee sighed. “It’s hard to explain.” She licked the ice cream that had dribbled onto her hand. “I thought me and Travis were . . . Well, I thought Travis was the one.” Her mouth twisted to one side. “People said we made beautiful music together.” She spit out another laugh. “I thought it was for real.” She looked down and ran a finger over the splintered top of the picnic table, wincing when it caught on a sharp piece of wood. “Then we get here and suddenly he’s seeing Jessie again.”

  She sucked at the drop of blood that dotted the tip of her finger. “He told me about Jessie. Said it was all over between them.” She glanced toward Amelia and Lorraine, who were wrapped up in their own conversation. “He said that the night before he and Jessie were to be married—it was at his bachelor party that Jax threw for him—he learned that Jessie and Jax were having an affair behind his back.”

  Shelby had to stifle a gasp when she heard that.

  “One of his so-called friends told him. The guy had had too much to drink and started taunting Travis about it. Said he’d seen the two of them around town when Travis was on tour. There was a fight and Travis stormed out.”

  Shelby didn’t know what to make of this information. According to Jax, he’d swooped in and rescued Jessie after Jessie had been left at the altar. If what Paislee said was true, then he was the reason Jessie had been stood up in the first place. Which one should she believe? She didn’t think either of them was above telling lies when it suited them.

  “I think they’re waiting for me.” Paislee gestured toward Jax and Brian, who were leaning against the van. They’d finished their ice cream and were standing with their hands in their pockets. Jax was drawing circles in the dust with the toe of his boot.

  Shelby gathered up the used napkins and headed for the round metal drum that served as a trash can. She heard raised voices as she turned around to head back to the picnic table.

  Three boys were standing by the table where Amelia and Lorraine were still sitting. Lorraine had her feet on the seat and her arms wrapped around her knees, which were drawn up to her chest. Amelia had the stormy look on her face that Shelby knew spelled trouble.

  The boys—approximately the same age as Amelia and Lorraine—were pointing fingers at the girls, their faces twisted into sneers. Shelby couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could tell by the jeering tone of their voices that it wasn’t something pleasant.

  Shelby drew in a sharp breath. How dared those boys! Who did they think they were? They were wearing Lovett High School football jerseys and khaki cargo shorts. The one in front with the blond buzz cut seemed to be the ringleader. Shelby thought she recognized him from the pictures that appeared in the Lovett Chronicle every weekend the team played a game.

  Before Shelby could reach the table, Amelia jumped to her feet, grabbed her half-full paper cup of water, and threw it at the boy closest to her. The liquid hit him straight in the face, momentarily wiping the smirk off.

  The boys had now formed a semicircle around the two girls. Amelia was still on her feet, her hands clenched at her sides, the stormy look on her face intensifying.

  Shelby strode toward them quickly, her own hands clenched into fists. As soon as the boys caught sight of her, they scattered like pinballs, the boy with the wet face shaking a menacing finger at Amelia.

  “What was that all about?” Shelby asked. She could tell her face was red, and her breath came in gasps.

  Lorraine looked as if she was going to cry. Amelia went over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Just some boys,” Lorraine said, looking down at her feet.

  “They were bothering you,” Shelby said.

  “That’s okay. I’m used to it,” Lorraine said, still looking at her feet.

  “You shouldn’t have to be used to it,” Shelby said. “It shouldn’t be happening.”

  “See what I mean, Mom?” Amelia said. “Those boys are always bullying Lorraine. There are others, too. They bully a lot of the kids at school.”

  “I’m proud of you for wanting to do something about it.” Shelby put an arm around each of the girls. “And I’m proud of you for standing up to them.” She put a finger under Amelia’s chin and tilted her head up.

  Amelia ducked her head. “Thanks, Mom.” She turned to stare at the backs of the departing boys. “I hope they don’t have it in for us in school tomorrow.”

  * * *

  • • •

  A police car was in the driveway when Shelby and the girls arrived back home. A patrolman was walking toward it with a wad of black-and-yellow crime-scene tape bundled in his arms. He stopped by the side of Shelby’s car when she pulled in.

  “Afternoon, ma’am.” He touched his free hand to his hat.

  “Are you finished with the barn?” Shelby asked as she opened her door and got out.

  The girls scampered toward the house. Shelby could hear Jenkins and Bitsy barking a greeting inside.

  “Yes, ma’am. The detective said it was okay to take the tape down.”

  “Thanks. That’s good news.”

  The black-and-yellow crime-scene tape fluttering around the perimeter of the barn had been a constant reminder of the tragedy that had taken place there. She was glad to see it go.

  Now she could call Brian at the motel and let him know that they could have their practice space back again. No doubt he would be pleased.

  18

  Dear Reader,

  Making your own pizza is a lot of fun and is a great project to do with children. You can make the dough in advance yourself if the prospect of flour all over your kitchen is too daunting. Children love picking out their own toppings. Amelia has always loved pepperoni and is a stickler for putting the slices on her pie in neat circles.

  You can make the pizzas as gourmet or as simple as you like. Who doesn’t love pizza, right?

  Amelia had asked Lorraine to stay for dinner. The girl seemed exceptionally pleased with the invitation. Shelby really felt proud of Amelia for reaching out to her classmate.

  Shelby had decided it would be fun to make pizzas for dinner. With rapid-rise yeast, the dough wouldn’t take that long. She had had fresh mozzarella in the refrigerator and there was plenty of basil to be picked in the garden. She could caramelize some onions and they could add the goat cheese she’d bought from the Frisches’ farm. A drizzle of honey would add a lovely touch.

  Shelby was kneading the dough when the telephone rang. She quickly wiped the flour off on her jeans—a bad habit she kept meaning to break herself of—and grabbed the receiver.

  Bert was at the emergency room—her gallbladder had kicked up again and although she had surgery scheduled in the coming week, the surgeon wanted to remove it right away.

  For a second, Shelby stood stock-still, staring at the pizza dough spread out on the counter without really seeing it. She couldn’t let Bert go through this alone. Shelby wiped her hands again—this time using a paper towel—and grabbed her cell phone.

  Kelly answered on the third ring. She sounded tired, and Shelby hesitated, but she didn’t want to leave the children alone.

  Kelly insisted she was more than happy to watch the kids when Shelby asked her. She assured Shelby she would be right over—it wouldn’t take her more than ten minutes.

  Shelby had to knock on Amelia’s door twice—the girls had the door to Amelia’s room closed and music playing.

  Shelby explained that she was racing to the hospital to be with Bert. Amelia assured her that she and Lorraine could make the pizzas themselves and would be sure that Billy got his dinner and took a bath.

  Dear Reader, that would be a bit like leaving the fox to guard the chickens.

  “Kelly’s coming over while I’m gone, so you don’t have to worry about dealing with Billy.”

  Amelia’s fac
e lit up—she adored Kelly as much as Shelby did.

  Shelby spared a minute for a quick glance in the mirror. She splashed some water on her face, brushed the flour off her T-shirt, and ran a hand through her hair. She would have to do.

  The inside of Shelby’s car was steamy and still smelled like the dog food she’d brought home the other day from the Lovett Feed Store. She put the key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing. She waited a second and tried again. Still nothing.

  Shelby wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. Her pickup truck was almost out of gas—she’d never make it to the hospital—and the only gas station nearby closed early.

  She clenched the steering wheel with both hands until her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t let Bert down. She’d have to call someone. She grabbed her purse and fished out her cell phone, then stopped with her fingers poised above the keys.

  Whom should she call?

  Kelly was going to be watching the children. Coralynne or Mrs. Willoughby would insist on sitting with Shelby the whole time she was at the hospital, and she didn’t think she could bear that. Besides, they would be scandalized by her appearance—neither of them ever seemed to leave the house in anything but a perfectly pressed dress appropriately accessorized and with every hair sprayed into place.

  Suddenly Shelby thought of Matt. Matt! Her shoulders relaxed and she felt the tension that had been cramping her neck flow away. She brought up his number on the phone and tapped the button.

  Matt answered on the second ring. He sounded pleased to hear Shelby’s voice. She found herself smiling as well. Luckily he was more than happy to be her ride to the hospital and said he would be by in the length of time it took to drive from the general store to Love Blossom Farm.

  Kelly arrived as Shelby was sitting on the porch waiting for Matt. She joined Shelby in one of the rocking chairs that had been on the porch since Shelby’s grandparents’ time. It was pleasant in the shade and Shelby rocked herself back and forth in one of the rocking chairs. Normally the motion soothed her, but tonight she was too agitated to settle down and she jumped up immediately when she heard Matt’s car rumbling down the drive.