Chapter 9
Emma lifted the lid of the big plastic bin on her front porch. She’d cut a hole in one end, lined the sides with some insulation, and then put in a thick layer of straw. She grinned when she saw a round, cat-size indentation in the center of the straw. The orange cat had finally used the shelter.
He had shown up a week ago.
I think it’s a he.
Something about the large, fluffy cat with white socks and a white belly had made her guess that he was a boy.
She’d tried to coax him inside her house, but he ran away every time she went near him—another reason she wasn’t certain of its sex.
He would eat from the little bowl of food she left out and then sit and watch her from the far side of the yard while she refilled it.
The nights were cold, but getting him to come indoors clearly wasn’t going to happen.
So she’d emptied a bunch of her dad’s tools out of the bin and cut the hole.
I assume the cat used the bed. Maybe I provided a warm night for a raccoon.
But in her gut, she knew it was him.
She was making progress. The orange cat ran a shorter way each time she opened the door and had even taken a few steps in her direction yesterday as she noisily filled his bowl with kibble.
The first two days she’d seen him, she’d put leftover mac and cheese in the bowl and then spied on him from a window as he hungrily wolfed it down.
Then she’d biked several miles to town and bought the cat a small bag of cat food.
He needs a real name.
Pumpkin, Cheeto, Garfield.
But for some reason nothing seemed to fit. She’d been mulling it over for two days. She’d never had a cat around before, not even other strays. She wondered where he’d come from. He clearly wasn’t comfortable around people.
Dorito, Mango, Ginger.
He was a mystery, but she hoped one day she’d get to pet that soft-looking fur.
It was a little matted in spots, and when she’d bought the cat food, she’d stared at cat brushes in the store for a long time but couldn’t justify the cost. The cat food was already outside her budget, but she worried that human food wasn’t good for him.
He seemed a little thin under all that fur, and she wanted to do the best she could for him.
He deserved a chance. She filled his bowl and looked around in the waning light, hoping to spot him spying on her. But she didn’t see him.
Her heart sank as she hoped he was okay.
She’d grown used to his presence.
Emma went back inside and drained the pasta for her mac and cheese. She wished she had some ground hamburger to mix in, but she’d used the last of it two days ago. She poured the sauce she’d made from flour, milk, and cheese over the pasta and added a dash of pepper.
Her dad hated pepper.
She added more pepper and then spooned some into a bowl and sat down at the little dining table.
Mac. Cheese. Kraft?
She snorted, amused at the orange food names on her brain.
Cornbread.
She froze with a bite of food halfway to her mouth, caught up in a memory of her mother dumping a yellow, powdery mix into a mixing bowl and the anticipation she’d felt as a child, knowing that warm cornbread and butter were minutes away.
Cornbread.
I anticipate his visits every day.
She chewed her food, confident in her name for the cat.
After several more bites, she heard an engine approach. Her appetite vanished. She moved to the window and stood where she could peer out but no one could see her.
Not Dad. I don’t know that truck.
She exhaled and continued to watch, conscious of the handgun in a drawer two feet away. It was rare for strangers to come to the house. If they did, they were usually up to no good.
The dark truck stopped a few yards away.
A big man jumped out of the driver’s side and then jogged around to the passenger side, where a white-haired woman sat.
Emma smothered a giggle as the man actually lifted the older woman out of the seat and set her on her feet.
Emma couldn’t make out the words, but clearly the woman was voicing strong opinions on how the man should help her.
The woman straightened her coat and took out the cane she had tucked under one arm.
She pointed the cane at the man and then at the truck and then made a sweeping motion toward the house.
What do they want?
Not sensing any danger, Emma was driven by curiosity to open the door, and she stepped out onto the porch. “Can I help you?” she asked the older woman, who’d stopped at the bottom of the stairs and now eyed her. Instead of answering, the woman gripped the handrail and carefully took the first step.
Emma was down the stairs in a flash. “Don’t step on the next one. It’s rotten.”
“Well, that’s not good,” said the woman.
“Help me over it,” she ordered. She held out her arm and Emma took it with both hands.
The older woman easily stepped over the rotten board.
“That wasn’t as bad as I expected.” She went up the rest of the steps without Emma’s help.
“Now.” She turned and looked Emma up and down. “You must be Emma Chambers.”
“Yes. Can I help you?” Emma asked again, glancing at the man, who had loaded up his arms with grocery bags and was headed their way. “What’s going on?”
“I’m Ina Smythe,” the woman announced. “I’m Eagle’s Nest’s official representative.”
Emma didn’t know what to say.
“Invite me inside,” Ina directed, pointing her cane at the door.
“Please come in,” Emma said automatically, and opened the door.
Ina glanced at the cat’s bin and food bowl. “You have a cat?”
“Not really. It’s for a stray. He comes around a lot but won’t let me touch him.”
“Sounds to me like you have a cat. Lucas!” Ina turned toward the man. “After you unload those groceries and firewood, go get some bags of cat food.” She looked at Emma. “Does the cat have a favorite food?”
“No.” Emma blinked, feeling a little lightheaded.
What is going on?
“Yes, ma’am,” answered Lucas, and he brought the groceries up the stairs.
He brushed by Emma and Ina and then set the bags on the dining table next to Emma’s bowl of mac and cheese.
He winked at Emma as he passed, headed back out to the truck.
He looked familiar, and she tried to think of where she had met him before.
“And then take a look at that step!” Ina hollered after him as she moved into the house. “I don’t want you breaking your neck.”
Emma looked at the woman, who now was opening and peering into all her cupboards. “Excuse me,” Emma said. “This is my house.”
Ina turned around and clucked her tongue. “I’d hoped you had a backbone, and there it is. We brought you some groceries. Courtesy of the Eagle’s Nest community fund. When Ben was here earlier, he noticed you had an empty fridge.” Ina opened the fridge, and Emma wanted to vanish through the floor.
Besides condiments, milk, and cheese, it was empty.
“He said it was cold inside too, and he’s damn right. You shouldn’t have to wear a coat while eating your dinner.” Ina’s gaze stalled on Emma’s bowl, and her lips twisted. “Humph.” She continued to look around the room. “At least someone installed a woodstove. Does it work?”
“Yes.”
The woman strode over and rapped on the wall behind it with her cane. “Cement board?”
“I think so.”
She tapped on the metal chimney and studied where it went through the roof. “Clearly an amateur job, but looks all right. I’ll have Lucas inspect it from the roof. Had any problems with it?”
“No.”
“Then why isn’t there a fire?” Eagle-sharp eyes focused on Emma. “No wood, right?”
“Right,” she whispered.
“Don’t you know there’s snow coming this week?
Lots of it. Sit down.” Ina pointed at the chair where Emma had been eating her dinner.
Emma obediently sat, and Ina took the chair next to her.
There was a lot of thumping on the porch.
“That’s Lucas unloading some firewood. We didn’t bring enough. Lucas!” she shouted toward the window.
“Yes, Grandma?” he answered.
“Get extra firewood when you get the cat food.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Emma had had enough of Ina Smythe’s orders. “Look. You can’t—”
Ina cut her off. “You need a hand. Eagle’s Nest has a private fund for its residents who need a little extra to get by. Ben nominated you, so here I am.” She slapped a hand on the table to emphasize her point.
“I don’t need charity,” Emma snapped.
Ina held her gaze. “Your fridge is empty. Your woodpile is gone. There’s more food outside in that cat bowl than is in yours.” She pointed at the mac and cheese. “You know the saying Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face?”
“Yes,” Emma choked out, looking away from those eyes that saw right through her.
“Good. That’s exactly what you’re doing, so get over it. I wanted to check in on you anyway after the goings-on this morning. Finding a dead body would turn anybody upside down and inside out. Even if that millionaire Christian Lake had stumbled across a body, I’d be at his house to check on him.”
“You’d take food to a millionaire?” Emma bit out.
“He’s probably got plenty of food.” Ina rubbed her chin in thought. “I’d probably bring him some homemade cookies. Everyone has different needs.”
Emma looked at the half dozen bags of groceries in front of her and stopped fighting her pride.
Relief immediately swept over her. Groceries were exhausting.
She had to bike several miles to and from and figure out the smallest amount to spend, all while considering how much she could pack home on the bike.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Tears smarted.
Ina set a hand on her arm. “Where’s your daddy?” she asked in a kind voice.
Emma shook her head, not wanting to speak of him.
The woman waited a long moment and then sat back. “Okay. I’ll listen when you’re ready. So for now, if you can bring in some wood, I’ll start the fire with that bit of kindling over there while you finish your dinner.”
Emma nodded silently and headed out the door to where she’d heard the wood being stacked on the porch.
She froze as the cat lifted his head from the food bowl and stared at her, his gaze full of suspicion.
“Hi, Cornbread,” she whispered, trying out the name.
“Please don’t run away.” She slowly inched in the opposite direction, toward the wood, not looking away.
He watched her for a long moment, then turned back to his food.
He didn’t run!
She stacked as much wood in her arms as she could, trying to make sense of what had happened in the last ten minutes. The old cop had reported her.
But she wasn’t in trouble; he’d sent help.
Her eyes smarted again, and she blinked hard to get rid of the tears. She didn’t want to go back inside, where that pushy woman would take one look and know she’d been crying.
Her father had always refused any sort of help, saying they were just fine on their own. Charity was a four-letter word to him. And assistance from the government? Forget it. He could take care of his own.
But he’s not taking care of me.
I’m an adult.
She lifted her chin and took the load of wood inside. Cornbread ignored her, focused on eating.
Ina had already made a little pile of paper and kindling in the woodstove. Emma silently set down the armload of firewood and then handed the pieces one by one to Ina, who expertly placed them.
“Matches?” Ina asked.
Emma grabbed the box, but the woman wouldn’t take it.
“Light your fire,” Ina ordered.
Emma lit her fire. Once she was certain it’d taken hold, she closed the iron door and adjusted a dial to make sure plenty of oxygen was getting inside. She held her hands near the door, soaking in the heat that was barely starting. Beside her, Ina was silent for once.
“Can I get you some coffee?” asked Emma, feeling gratitude toward the woman. And Ben, the old cop.
“Got decaf?”
“I don’t think so.” She didn’t drink coffee, but there was a jar of instant that her father used.
“No, thank you, then. I’ll never get to sleep tonight.” She braced her cane against the low hearth and awkwardly pushed to her feet with a groan. “I’ll help you put away the groceries.”
“No,” said Emma, deciding she could be pushy too. “Sit at the table, and I’ll make some tea. No caffeine. Then I’ll do the groceries.”
Ina eyed her. “There’s that backbone again,” she said softly. “I won’t pass up that offer,” she said in a normal voice.
A few minutes later, Emma had put away the groceries and joined Ina at the table. “I feel like I’ve seen that man before . . . Lucas?” said Emma.
“He works at the city police department. Last name is Ingram.”
“I haven’t been to the police—” Emma began, and then the name clicked. “He went to my high school!” she said. “He graduated before I started there, but there is a picture of him in the trophy case with a football. I knew he looked familiar.”
“That’s him,” said Ina with a proud smile. “He was a star at Eagle’s Nest High School. Still is, apparently.”
“That’s cool.” Emma went silent, not wanting to talk about school.
“Is this going to be a problem with your father?” Ina gestured at the woodstove and fridge.
“No. I’ll explain. He’ll understand.” She squirmed in her seat.
“Doesn’t look like you think he’ll understand,” said Ina.
Emma clenched her teeth, fighting to not say more.
Ina took a sip of her tea, her sharp eyes watching Emma over the rim.
She set the cup down with a clang and gave a loud sigh.
“I can’t put a face to your daddy’s name, which is unusual, considering I sat behind the front desk at the police department for decades.
Ben knows a bit about him, but that’s beside the point. The man isn’t doing his duty by you.”
“I’m eighteen,” Emma said. “He doesn’t have to take care of me.”
“Is that what he told you?”
“No.” Emma looked at her tea.
“Humph.” Ina took a sip from her cup. “Well, you let me know if we’ve caused any problems. You got a cell phone?”
“An old one. But I have to go to the road to get steady service.”
“You can call me anytime. I’ll leave my number.” Ina fixed her gaze on Emma’s. “I’ll be checking on you in a week.”
Emma fought to hold eye contact. The woman was surprisingly intimidating. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I want to.” Ina snorted and lifted her cup. “Like you, I got a soft spot for strays. Once you’re in with me, you’re in for life.”
I’m her Cornbread.