Then Ryder walked by after Mila left their conversation and the picnic table to join a game of cornhole, and he seemed to be the missing piece of the puzzle she was mentally piecing together. To be honest, she was so confused after dinner with him Monday night, she was glad to wing away Tuesday morning.
“I’d better go, Ben,” she said. “I have an appointment at two. Wish me luck.” She hesitated before rising to her feet. “Any advice?”
The statue said nothing, of course—if it did, she might be crazy—but something in the breeze stirred words from a verse Pops used to say.
“The Lord…will give you the desires of your heart.”
18
“Fred, Ginger, your beloved master is home.” Ryder tossed his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter as deep barks echoed through the house.
Setting down his sacks from Cooper’s Grocery, he wrestled with the pups on the cool kitchen tile, then let them out to stretch and do their business.
Filling their bowls with food, he wondered what he’d done with the spaghetti sauce recipe given to him by Isobel, his favorite nanny. She always made spaghetti on cold nights, but on this summer evening, he had a taste for home. Sunday with the Dorseys reminded him of why he came home in the first place. His parents may not be around much, but everyone else who embraced and raised him lived in Hearts Bend.
In fact, Pops Dorsey invited him to a five a.m. men’s gathering tomorrow morning. “Do a bit of praying. Read a bit of the Word.” He’d slapped Ryder on the back. “Make a better man out of you.”
Ryder put away the groceries, threw in a load of laundry, and collected the mail. He checked the pine in his workshop and decided he had enough to finish the fire tower. After a quick shower, he flipped on all the kitchen lights to make the sauce. If he couldn’t find the recipe, he’d work from memory. He knew the most important ingredients: tomato sauce, tomatoes, garlic, and lean ground beef.
He’d just set the meat to browning when he noticed a small white box in the corner of the kitchen counter. It was tied with a red ribbon, but there was no tag or label. Nothing written on the bottom. Pulling the box from the bow, he raised the lid to see another one inside. He glanced around as if someone might spring from a hiding place.
Where did this?—
He opened it to see the diamond ring from Earth-n-Treasures. What? He snapped it closed and tossed it onto the counter.
Was someone trying to frame him? First, the WMA fraud. And now this? He yanked his phone from his pocket and searched for the shop’s number. But he could only find the old one from when the Marshalls owned the place. Close enough.
“Come on, Jewell, answer.” But the phone simply rang and rang. When he hung up, he snapped off the heat under the browning meat, tied on his sneakers, and headed out. He was taking this ring back. Now.
But as he stepped onto his deck, his parents were climbing up the stairs.
“Mom, Dad, what are you doing here?” He snatched a barking Fred’s collar, then a barking Ginger’s. His parents weren’t pet people.
“We cut our trip short,” Dad said. “We thought we’d come into town, check on the house, and see our hero son.”
“Karl?” Ryder said, referencing his older brother with a short laugh.
“No, you.” Mom patted him on the shoulder as she stepped into the kitchen. “The place looks nice, Ryder. Who’d you hire for the work?”
“I did it myself, Mom.” He dragged the dogs off to his room, then returned to the wide, bright living room with the bank of windows on both sides.
“You didn’t learn that from me,” Dad said.
Pops D. taught Ryder almost everything he knew about carpentry, electrical, and plumbing.
“How long are you in town?” Ryder tucked the white box back in the corner of the kitchen and offered his parents bottles of water. “I’m making Isobel’s spaghetti sauce. Care to join me?”
“We’re on a vegan diet,” Mom said. “But thank you. Next time.”
“So, how have you all been?” He’d not seen them in a while, but they texted. Called.
“Good but busy.” Dad, dressed in fine-weave slacks and a starched shirt, inspected the rest of the house with the soft strike of his handcrafted shoes against the hardwoods.
Mom read something on her phone. She was pretty in a summer dress and sandals, her hair worked into a braid with a bit of gray peeking through the blonde.
“So, how was the celebration?” Dad said, returning to the main room. “We read about it in the Tribune online. We’re sorry we missed it.”
“You know how Hearts Bend does these things. All the way.” Ryder was torn between welcoming his parents and running the ring back to Earth-n-Treasures. He had a gut feeling the next folks at his door would be the police.
