Her expression shifted, worry giving way to interest. “A safe. Bill mentioned that as well.”
“And he sure knows his stuff, being a locksmith. A good quality safe. Fire-resistant. Hidden well. If it’s valuables you’re concerned about, that might give you peace of mind.”
Her eyes brightened. “I’d need a large one.”
“For jewelry?” I asked.
“There you go asking questions that aren’t any of your business,” she scolded again. “You are going in my notebook again, Pepper. I have a dedicated section just for you.”
“I’m sure you do, “ I said, pleased to have supplied her with so much nonsense. “With how much you love to record your daily activity, I am sure you must know a lot about me.”
“You and everyone else in Willow Lake,” she said as if it had earned her a badge of honor.
I got a thought. “So, I guess you have lots in your notebook about Amy since she lives next door to you.”
Vera frowned, not the usual frown she wore but a worried one. “I do hope your friend knows what she’s doing. That fellow Beau is such a nice guy. He takes my garbage cans out for me right on schedule and pulls them back in, positions them neatly, just the way I like them. He started doing that when he saw me struggling one day and hasn’t stopped since.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what Amy is thinking, cheating on him with your brother Thomas.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise, and Vera caught it.
“Oh, you didn’t know, and here I thought you two shared everything.”
“Amy’s not cheating on Beau,” I corrected, hoping I was right.
“Then why is he there so often and only when Beau isn’t around. Something is going on.” Vera shook her head again. “It is none of my business. I need to get these poor plants home and tend to them, and then I am going to talk with Bill about the best safe to buy. And you—” she shook her finger at me, “better talk to your friend and set her straight before she breaks someone’s heart.”
And just like that, she hurried off toward the register, leaving me to stare after her, speechless.
“Pepper,” a woman called from two rows over. “Can you tell me which fertilizer won’t burn late-season blooms?”
I turned with a practiced smile. “Absolutely. You want something balanced and gentle this time of year.”
As I walked her through options, I spotted Thomas near the loading area, lifting trays of mums with easy strength. He hadn’t seen me yet. He was a math teacher at Willow Lake High School and worked at the garden center for the summer and weekends in the spring and fall if needed.
Even with him already on my mind, I wasn’t ready for a conversation in the middle of a crowd, especially after the scolding I just got from Vera.
By the time I finished helping three customers and restocking a display of ornamental grasses, the rush began to thin. The heat of the late morning pressed down, slowing even the most determined gardeners.
I spotted Thomas again, this time near the shade cloth, jotting something down on a clipboard.
I had to confront him at some point, so why not now? I walked over to him.
He looked up as I approached and immediately stiffened.
“Before you say anything,” he began, “what goes on between Amy and me is none of your business.”
“Wrong, she’s my best friend since kindergarten, so it is my business,” I said, thinking how guilty people always came off defensive when feeling they’re being accused.
He didn’t get a chance to respond. His head snapped to the side at his name being screeched, like nails on a chalkboard.
I didn’t have to look to see who it was… Lola, his girlfriend.
I often wondered how she managed to get such tight clothes on and how much cosmetics cost her since she wore a ton of them, which made me wonder what she really looked like. She did have beautiful blonde hair, even if it did come from a bottle, and she wore it swept up and messy, and it looked good. Okay, a bit of envy here since a ponytail or braid were the only styles I could manage. I also wondered how she managed to walk in the high-wedge heel sandals she wore, but she had no problem making a beeline for Thomas.
“You promised me, Thomas,” she said through crocodile tears, though they disappeared rapidly when she looked at me. “This is a private conversation.”
“In the middle of a garden center?” I asked, and yes, sarcastically. “And not with a quiet voice.”
Her head snapped back to Thomas and on demand came the tears.
