Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Raven had just finished arranging a display of colorful sundresses when the bell above the door jingled. She turned to see Hattie O’Hara balancing a paper bag from The Lampstand in one hand and a tray with two iced coffees in the other, her baby bump leading the way.
“Sustenance delivery!” Hattie announced, her white-blond hair pulled back in a messy bun that somehow looked elegant rather than haphazard.
She radiated that particular glow unique to women in their third trimester.
“Simone saw me on my way to the office and insisted I bring you lunch. Apparently you’re too skinny and need feeding.”
Raven smiled, genuinely this time. Hattie’s direct manner was refreshing—no beating around the bush, no hidden meanings. “That woman has the gift. I was just thinking about skipping lunch.”
“Which would be a tragedy considering Simone made her famous chicken salad today,” Hattie said, setting the food and drinks on the counter by the register. She smoothed a hand over her rounded belly, her wedding ring catching the light. “Duncan watches what I eat like a hawk. I think he’s secretly afraid I’ll be outeating him forever, or that I’ll never lose the baby weight.”
The bell chimed again, and Deputy Carson Reynolds stepped in, cap in hand and a friendly smile lighting up his boyish face. His dark-rimmed glasses gave him a studious look that contrasted with the crisp uniform and duty belt. At barely twenty-three, he still had that eager, fresh-from-the-academy energy that made the older deputies chuckle.
“Morning, ladies,” he greeted, replacing his cap over neatly trimmed dark hair. “Just making my rounds, checking in on all the businesses. Everything okay here today, Mrs. O’Hara?”
“All quiet, Carson,” Raven replied. “How’s your mother doing? I heard she was back in the hospital last week.”
Something flickered across the young deputy’s face—worry quickly masked with a practiced smile. “Better, thanks for asking. She just got home last night. The new medication seems to be helping, but the bills—” He shrugged, then straightened his shoulders. “We’ll manage. Always do.”
“Simone made a huge batch of her special clam chowder this morning,” Hattie mentioned. “She’s planning to drop some by your house this afternoon. Your mother mentioned it was her favorite when they talked at church last month.”
Carson’s smile turned more genuine. “That’s really thoughtful. Mom will love that.” He glanced at his watch. “Better keep moving—Sheriff likes us to stick to schedule. You ladies have a good day now.”
As the door closed behind him, Raven shook her head. “He’s such a nice boy. Wyatt says he’s one of the most promising rookies they’ve had in years.”
“And carrying so much on those young shoulders,” Hattie added, watching through the window as he went to the florist shop next door. “His mother’s MS has been getting worse, and I heard he’s the only family she has left.”
“I didn’t realize,” Raven said, unwrapping her own sandwich.
Hattie popped a chip into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully before speaking. “Duncan mentioned that Wyatt’s been mentoring Carson, giving him extra shifts when he can. The medical bills must be crushing.”
As Duncan O’Hara’s wife, Hattie had quickly become an integral part of the community. She’d initially taken over managing the sporting goods store when she first arrived in town, but now oversaw several of the O’Hara family businesses, putting her sharp mind to good use.
Hattie winced and then sighed, looking accusingly at her sandwich.
“How’s the heartburn?” Raven asked.
“Brutal,” Hattie said, sipping her iced tea. “I’m practically keeping Tums in business. And don’t even get me started on the heat. Duncan sleeps in his winter coat because I keep the air turned down so low.” She paused, studying Raven’s face. “What about you? Are you okay? You’ve got that look.”
“What is it with you and Sophie today? I’m fine,” Raven insisted, taking a bite of her sandwich to avoid further questioning.
“Mmm-hmm,” Hattie hummed skeptically. “That’s why you look like you haven’t slept in days. Is Wyatt working crazy hours again?”
Raven swallowed hard. “Something like that.”
“Duncan mentioned he passed him early this morning when he was heading out to paint,” Hattie said casually. “Said Wyatt was coming down Twin Lakes Road. Must have been quite the sunrise.”
The sandwich suddenly tasted like sandpaper in Raven’s mouth. Twin Lakes Road? There was nothing up there except the old Murphy cabin, abandoned for years except for occasional teenage rendezvous. What would Wyatt be doing there at dawn?
“What time was this?” Raven asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.
Hattie shrugged. “Early. You know Duncan—he’s half crazed when he gets an idea for a painting. He was out the door before five to catch the light just right.”
Five in the morning. When Wyatt should have been coming home from his shift, not driving down from an abandoned cabin.
A cold sensation spread from Raven’s chest to her fingertips. Was this where he’d been going? All those nights he claimed to be working extra hours or helping with special DEA operations?
No. She pushed the thought away forcefully. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Maybe there had been a callout. Maybe they were using the cabin for surveillance. Maybe?—
But the maybes felt hollow, even to her.
“Earth to Raven,” Hattie was saying, waving a hand in front of her face. “Where’d you go?”
“Sorry,” Raven said, forcing a smile. “Just remembered I forgot to order those summer scarves.”
Hattie didn’t look convinced. “You know, if something’s going on…”
“Everything’s fine,” Raven insisted, her voice a little too bright. “Just busy with the season. You know how it gets.”
The concern in Hattie’s eyes didn’t fade, but she nodded. “If you say so. But just so you know, being an O’Hara by marriage means you’re stuck with all of us—the good, the bad, and the nosy.”
Raven laughed, though it felt slightly forced. “Don’t I know it. How’s the nursery coming along?”
Hattie allowed the subject change, launching into a description of Duncan’s latest project—a mural of Laurel Valley’s landscape on the nursery wall. Raven nodded and smiled in all the right places, but her mind was miles away, up a winding mountain road to an abandoned cabin.
“Don’t forget, dinner at The Lampstand tonight,” Hattie reminded her as she headed for the door. “It’s Mac’s college graduation party now that she and Ryder are back from Europe. Seven sharp. Bring that husband of yours if you can pry him away from whatever important police business is happening around here.”
Hattie’s words were casual, just friendly banter, but Raven felt them like a physical blow. How long could she keep pretending? The O’Haras were notorious for their family loyalty and uncanny ability to sense when something was amiss with one of their own. The “O’Hara network,” as it was affectionately known throughout Laurel Valley, was both a blessing and a curse.
The bell over the door rang and she looked down at her half-eaten lunch. She guessed her break was over. She pasted on her professional smile and turned to the customer. “Welcome to Raven Layne. Looking for something special today?”
But as she guided the tourist through her carefully curated collection, Raven’s thoughts remained fixed on that abandoned cabin at Twin Lakes Road. On Wyatt’s inexplicable presence there at dawn. On all the nights he’d come home smelling of stale bar smoke and secrets.
Tonight at The Lampstand, she’d be surrounded by O’Haras—people who could read her almost as well as they could read each other. People who loved Wyatt unconditionally, who trusted him without question.
People who would notice immediately if she didn’t.