Page 96
I hold up my hands. “Trust me, my conscience is clean.”
At least where Mom and Dad are concerned. Just thinking about Gemma’s reaction ties me up in knots again.
“Did you see all those cop cars zooming by on Main Street?” an older lady whispers to another in the candy aisle.
“Sure did,” the second gossip confirms. “I heard it was a drug deal gone wrong.”
“No!” The first gasps and flutters a wrinkled palm to her chest. “In our sweet little town? That’s terrible.”
She should be more concerned about her floral shirt clashing with her leopard pants. The polka dots on her shoes and stripes on her glasses are begging for the fashion police.
“Mhmm, could hardly believe my own ears.” The woman with a gray bob tsks. “It’s caused quite the kerfuffle. I sure hope they caught everyone.”
The one wearing too many patterns glances around Keaton’s General Store as if she suddenly doesn’t trust her surroundings. “Is it safe to be out and about?”
I almost bang my head on the counter. The rumor mill has been a hive of activity this afternoon. Even Betty Lou felt the rise in tension with each busybody shopper. Our beloved mascot flapped her wings, left the comfort of her nest, and waddled away to find a quiet spot elsewhere. Can’t say I blame the duck one bit.
In the past hour, I’ve heard six different versions of what I’m sure is the same story. My phone has remained suspiciously silent, but that’s kept me from jumping to conclusions with the rest of these motor mouths. It can’t be too horrible or someone would’ve filled me in by now.
The chime from the door opening diverts my fraying concentration. I smile at the new visitor, but it deflates when recognition strikes. Lynn Ellen Paige is the queen bee of gossip in Cloverleaf Meadows. She takes it upon herself to be in everyone’s business. This can only be trouble.
Her heels click on the tiles as she rushes over to me at the register. “Gemma! My goodness. What a day it’s been.”
“Lynn Ellen,” I chirp. “Always a pleasure. Are you looking for anything specific?”
The worry lines creasing her forehead are more staged than her makeup. “Oh, dear. Haven’t you heard the news?”
“That depends on which version you’re referring to.”
She presses her lips into a peeved-off scowl. “I only spread the truth.”
My own mouth flattens. “Uh-huh.”
Her shrewd gaze narrows, overshadowed by her false eyelashes. “I’m actually surprised to see you here. Aren’t you and Chance Benson an item?”
“Sure are.”
Lynn Ellen’s expression brightens like she just won the lottery. “Shouldn’t you be at his house, comforting him during such a difficult time?”
I straighten from my slouched position. “What do you mean?”
“My goodness,” she coos. “You really don’t know?”
“Good grief, woman,” I groan. “Please get on with it.”
She looks positively feral to deliver the news. “His parents were arrested. Donna Benson hasn’t showed her face in this town since she left seven years ago. Her sons put her behind bars as a welcome home gift. Isn’t that sweet?”
My jaw might hit the floor. I’m stunned still for a solid four seconds. Don’t ask me why I believe this woman, but her variation makes the most sense. Chance has been distracted since we got back from Illinois. I wrote it off as festering anger toward his dad. Clearly, there was a lot more to it.
Dread curdles in my gut next. He kept this a secret from me. I hate that he went behind my back, but that’s not important right now. Chance must be a wreck. But Lynn Ellen said he was responsible for his parents’ arrest.
“I gotta go,” I blurt and grab my purse. “Keep an eye on the store for me.”
“Oh!” Lynn Ellen grins at all the people inside who are about to become her captive audience. “How delightful.”
My boots stomp the pavement as I run to my truck. There’s a tremble in my hand when I stab the key into the ignition and crank hard. After a loud sputter, the engine roars to send me speeding along.
The drive to Chance’s farm usually takes twelve minutes. Big Red and my lead foot get me there in six. I survey the scene while the tires bump along the gravel driveway.
