Dear Reader,

The Hope Street mysteries were originally published by St. Martin’s Press and written under the name Jennifer Stanley. The titles, in order, were Stirring Up Strife, Path of the Wicked, and The Way of the Guilty.

I have completely rewritten all three novels and am now publishing them under the name Ellery Adams as The Path of the Crooked, The Way of the Wicked, and The Graves of the Guilty.

If you’ve read the original books, you will find the basic plot of the above titles unchanged. My intention was to polish the writing in each installment and rerelease the novels as crisper, cleaner, more engaging books. Stay tuned for forthcoming novels in the Hope Street mystery series as well!

Thank you for supporting cozy mysteries.

Your friend,

Ellery Adams

The Way of the Wicked

Cooper Lee and her friends in the Hope Street Bible study group have just volunteered for a local charity, delivering much-needed food and cheer to shut-ins in their community. It seems like the perfect way for the group to do good, and to Cooper it offers the welcome opportunity to get out of the house and spend more time with her new boyfriend, Nathan. But when one of the charity’s recipients is murdered, the police have no choice but to single out the church group and their fellow volunteers as the prime suspects.

Determined to make sure no evil deed goes unpunished, Cooper and her friends decide to discreetly interrogate each volunteer in their search for the killer, even if it means putting themselves at risk in the process. And as serving the needy becomes more treacherous than any of them could have imagined, they just might discover that the road to murder is paved with good intentions.

Beyond the Page Books

are published by

Beyond the Page Publishing

www.beyondthepagepub.com

This is a fully revised edition of a book that was originally published as Path of the Wicked by Jennifer Stanley, copyright © 2010 by Jennifer Stanley. Revised edition copyright © 2014 by Jennifer Stanley.

Material excerpted from The Path of the Crooked and The Graves of the Guilty copyright © 2014 by Jennifer Stanley.

Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

ISBN: 978-1-940846-32-3

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Magnolia’s Marvels

Excerpt from The Path of the Crooked

Excerpt from The Graves of the Guilty

Books by Ellery Adams

About the Author

Do not set foot on the path of the wicked or walk in the way of evil men.

Avoid it, do not travel on it; turn from it and go on your way.

For they cannot sleep till they do evil; they are robbed of slumber till they make someone fall.

They eat the bread of wickedness and drink the wine of violence.

Proverbs 4:14–17 (NIV)

1

Cooper Lee was not having a good day. She had spent the morning at an elementary school in the Far West End trying to coax their aged copier, a Toshiba e-Studio 28, back to life. But the machine had given its all and no amount of replacement parts, duct tape, or prayers were going to keep it running.

Kneeling on the floor next to her toolbox, a soiled rag, and the copier’s rectangular back panel, Cooper examined the dirty developer tray. When she’d removed the part, her hands and forearms had gotten covered in toner. She didn’t even notice her soiled fingers when she used them to pinch her nose and rub her temples in frustration. It was going to be impossible to resuscitate the spent machine, but it would be equally difficult to break this news to the school secretary.

Unaware of the splotches of gray and black ink on her face, Cooper sighed. She knew that the school didn’t have the funds in their budget to purchase a new copier, and they’d desperately need one soon, as summer break was ticking to an end.

“Hey!” a voice nearby whispered. Cooper looked up to see a girl dressed in a Hannah Montana T-shirt and white shorts standing over her.

“Hi.” She smiled. “Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“My mom works here,” the girl replied. “I had to help her carry stuff into her office.” She continued to study Cooper’s face with interest. “You look like you have the boooooobonic plague. I learned all about that for my summer reading assignment.” She crossed her arms across her chest and peered at Cooper intently. “Are those black boils?”

Cooper laughed. “No, I do not have the bubonic plague. I probably got ink from the copier on my face. Happens all the time.”

The girl frowned. “Gross. I don’t want a dirty job when I grow up. I’m going to be a famous singer. I’ll live in a huge house, get driven around in a super-big limo, and own, like, twenty horses.” She stretched out her skinny arms to emphasize her point. “Then my mama can quit her job. She’s the school nurse and I think what she does is gross, too.” The girl lowered her voice to an awed whisper. “She gives people shots! With needles!”

Examining her reflection in the shiny surface of an adjustable steel wrench, Cooper grinned and began to wipe the ink off her face with a clean rag. “Well, I’m happiest when I’m getting messy. My hands are usually covered in ink, garden soil, or cookie dough.”

“You’re weird,” the girl whispered and then looked back over her shoulder as though her mother might be close enough to overhear her rude remark. “But you’re still pretty,” she amended and then skipped away.

Cooper replaced the back panel of the defunct machine, taking her time turning the screws. This was the only part of her job at Make It Work!, an office-machine sales and repair company operating out of Richmond, Virginia, that Cooper disliked. She hated telling nice people, like the kind and courteous secretary in the front office, that she’d been unable to fulfill their expectations and could not repair their machine.

Smoothing her uniform shirt, Cooper snapped her toolbox closed and stood. She patted the lid of the copier. “You’ve given them your best. Time for you to retire to the greener pastures of the recycling facility.”

At the front office, the secretary took one look at Cooper’s doleful expression and said, “Oh, dear. You don’t have good tidings for me, do you?”

“No, ma’am.”

The secretary paused for a moment, unable to keep herself from staring at Cooper’s unusual eyes. The left eye was blue, but such a pale shade of blue that it was almost colorless. The right eye, however, was startlingly green. It called to mind a meadow of sun-dappled spring grass.

“Oh, my.” The secretary shook her head slightly as the enormity of Cooper’s prognosis sank in. “Are you sure you can’t fix our copier? We really need to get a few more months out of that machine.”

“I couldn’t buy you two or three more minutes, let alone months. It has nothing left to give.”

The secretary nodded, unsurprised by the revelation. “I know you did your best. You always do and we appreciate the extra time you’ve taken keeping that ole dinosaur running.” She rose and, signing Cooper’s work order, walked her to the front door.

“It’s going to take more than a bake sale to raise funds for a new copier.” The secretary’s expression was bleak. “And with school starting in two weeks, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” She wrung her hands anxiously.

“The way I see it—you have two choices. You can soak a mess of cakes in a barrel of rum and hope that the folks who show up for the bake sale write checks with a whole lot of zeroes.” Cooper smiled wryly. “Or you could lease one of our machines until you raise the money for a new one.”

The secretary brightened. “A lease?” She paused to consider the idea. “I’m fond of the rum cake plan, too, but a lease just might get us through the crisis. Thank you, Ms. Lee. You’re an angel! Please call me with the rates as soon as you’re able. We need a copier in here as of yesterday.” Then her face grew solemn and she lowered her voice. “And you’ll take away the old one for us?”

Cooper nodded, promised to phone later with leasing options, and hopped into a black van with the Make It Work! logo splashed across both sides in bright red lettering. As she drove back to the office, she remembered that the new employee Mr. Farmer hired to handle the document-shredding side of the business would be starting work today.

Over the summer, Mr. Farmer had filled the need by recruiting the son of his widowed next-door neighbor, but the young man was returning to college, so Cooper’s boss had placed an ad in the Richmond Times-Dispatch for a full-time employee. Before anyone had the chance to apply for the position, he’d ended up hiring a cousin who’d recently relocated from New Jersey. No one had met the mysterious new addition to their team, and all three of Mr. Farmer’s staff members were curious to discover what kind of person would be donning a new Make It Work! uniform.

“Thank goodness he didn’t hire some pageant princess,” Angela said, giggling as she told Cooper about meeting the new employee while Cooper was at the elementary school.

Angela, the office manager at Make It Work!, wore a tight pencil skirt, a low-cut blouse, and an armload of vintage bangles. As Cooper admired Angela’s platinum-blonde bob, held firmly in place by a wide pink headband and half a can of Aqua Net, she noticed the presence of a beauty mark on Angela’s cheek that had never been there before.

“I don’t think pageant princesses are interested in a career in document shredding,” Cooper said. Tapping her own cheek with her index finger, she said, “You’re really channeling Marilyn Monroe today, aren’t you?”

Angela batted her false eyelashes as she examined her reflection in a compact that was never far from reach. “I want to see if Mr. Farmer notices.” She leaned over her desk and whispered, “And if he doesn’t, then I sure hope that gorgeous creature gettin’ dressed in one of our uniform shirts does.” Her eyes gleamed.

“So tell me about the new guy.” Cooper leaned comfortably against Angela’s desk. “I can see you’re fit to burst over him.”

Angela placed her hands over her ample bosom. “Lord, I don’t know what I did to deserve such tasty eye candy! This boy is a stud cocktail made up of one part soap opera star, one part professional baseball player, and three parts Chippendale dancer.” She frowned. “He’s a bit too young for me, unfortunately. You know you’re old when you wish you were forty again, but I can still look!” She wiggled her pencil-drawn eyebrows. “And if he asked me to dinner, I wouldn’t be in any hurry to say no.”

At that moment, Mr. Farmer stepped out of his office at the end of the hall. The owner/manager of Make It Work! was a short, stocky, balding man resembling the actor Danny DeVito. A quiet, reserved individual, he was a fair and honest employer. Angela had been flirting with him for years, and though he occasionally displayed a hint of fondness for her in return, he’d never asked her out on an official date.

“Good morning, Cooper.” Mr. Farmer straightened his tie, which was embroidered with cobalt computer monitors on a field of yellow. “Our new employee is in the locker room. His name is Emilio Calabria and word has it that he is an exemplary salesman. He’s sure to increase our burgeoning secure document-destruction division. Ben will be showing him the ropes over the next few days.” Mr. Farmer smiled shyly at Angela. “Let’s all go out of our way to make him feel at home.”

“Oh, I’ll make him feel real welcome, sir.” Angela saluted their boss, her cherry-red nails brushing her powdered forehead.

“Ah, yes . . .” Mr. Farmer shifted on his feet, looking slightly daunted by Angela’s enthusiasm. Hearing footsteps approaching from down the hall, he turned and held out his hand. “And here he is now. Emilio, you’ve met the rest of our small staff except for Cooper Lee. Cooper, this is Emilio, the man who’ll soon be shredding paper all over town.”

The first thought that ran through Cooper’s mind was that Angela’s assessment of their new coworker was completely accurate. Emilio wasn’t tall, but his lean and muscular build gave him the appearance of height. His shiny waves of black hair framed his olive skin and alluring dark brown eyes. When he smiled at Cooper, flashing a row of square white teeth, she decided that his was a face meant for television and movie screens or the pages of GQ. His hands were wide and strong, and as he crushed Cooper’s in a steely grip, his smile grew even brighter.

“Lady, you’ve got some awesome eyes!” He stared at Cooper and continued to pump her hand. “Man, they are wicked cool. They remind me of that cute blonde actress—the one in the Superman remake.”

“Kate Bosworth?” Angela guessed.

Emilio released Cooper’s hand and pointed at Angela. “Smart and classy.” He turned to Mr. Farmer. “I can see who runs this show.”

“And I can see why you’re such a good salesman. You’re just as smooth as a stick of room-temperature butter.” Angela batted her false eyelashes. “I’d never have taken you for kin of Mr. Farmer’s. Just how are you related again?”

“Emilio’s my aunt’s boy,” Mr. Farmer said, clearly displeased that he was being completely overshadowed by his cousin. “My own folks died when I was in my early twenties. All I’ve got left is my big sister and Aunt Mildred.”

“And me!” Emilio clapped his employer on the back with enough enthusiasm to jostle a few teeth loose. “You’re not going to be sorry about bringing me aboard, boss. I’m going to work my ass off and bring in so many new clients that you won’t know where to spend all your money!”

“I could think of several ways to spend it,” Angela murmured coquettishly.

Emilio beamed at Mr. Farmer and then slung his arm around Cooper’s shoulders. In a conspiratorial fashion, he whispered, “This man hired me when I was down on my luck. Is he awesome or what?”

“Best boss I’ve ever had,” Cooper replied, inhaling Emilio’s powerful cologne.

She extricated herself from her hunky coworker’s semi-embrace and feigned the need to grab a tissue from Angela’s desk. As Cooper reached for the floral box, she noticed the secretary gazing at Emilio with adoration. Mr. Farmer also seemed to have taken note of Angela’s dreamy expression, for he hurriedly took Emilio by the elbow and offered to accompany him to the garage.

“Ben’s waiting in the garage,” he said, gently propelling Emilio forward.

“Catch you beautiful ladies later!” Emilio shouted in his thick Jersey accent and strutted off.

Angela watched the men walk away. “Ain’t he somethin’?” She fanned herself with a brochure from an ink cartridge and toner company.

Cooper shrugged. “Yeah, he’s something, all right.” She shouldered the woven straw bag she’d recently purchased from Target and told Angela she’d be back in an hour.

“You meetin’ that nice boy from your Bible study for a steamy lunch date?” Angela puckered her lips.

Cooper’s neck grew pink. She covered the telltale flesh with both hands and shook her head. “No, Nathan’s been really busy lately. And like I told you last week, I’m not sure if we’re dating. We’ve only been out a few times.”

Angela waved her off. “You’ve kissed, honey. On the lips. More than once. So if that ain’t datin’, then you’re the friendliest friends I’ve ever heard of!” She pulled a lipstick from her desk drawer and held it up to Cooper. “Want to borrow my Vixen Red? Tempt that sweet boy of yours into bein’ a bit naughty after work?”

Pretending not to have heard Angela, Cooper waved and headed for the exit.

• • •

Cooper ordered a Happy Meal from McDonald’s and took hungry bites of her cheeseburger with extra pickles with one hand while negotiating the traffic around Short Pump Town Center with the other. The mall was unexpectedly busy for a weekday, but then Cooper realized that the mothers disembarking from their SUVs and plush minivans were probably shopping for back-to-school supplies. As she pulled her red pickup truck into a parking space, Cooper watched a pretty woman of about the same age press a button on her car key, causing both of her minivan’s rear doors to slide open. Her two young children hopped inside, relieved to be out of the scorching August sun. Each child held on to a balloon from the shoe store, and as the mother lifted her daughter into her booster seat and carefully tied her purple balloon to the armrest, the little girl threw her arms around her mother’s neck and covered her face with tender kisses. The mother laughed and kissed her daughter back on the bridge of her small nose. Witnessing this sweet exchange, Cooper felt a twinge of sadness.

“That’s what I want,” she whispered into the quiet of her truck cab. “I want to love someone like that. I want to be loved like that.” Surprised and irritated to find herself fighting back tears, she stuffed the last of the French fries into her mouth, grabbed her Coke from the cup holder, and marched into the mall.

Almost furtively, she pulled open the heavy door to the nail salon next to Macy’s and, after being greeted by the receptionist, mumbled, “I’m here to see Minnie.”

The Vietnamese woman behind the reception desk smiled as Cooper retrieved a pair of flip-flops from her handbag. “You’re a regular customer now.” She then led Cooper toward the back of the salon. “Pick your color,” the woman directed.

Cooper selected a conservative mauve polish and then settled into her chair. She pressed the red button on the attached remote in order to start up the chair massage and gazed at the other women in the salon. Only months ago, Cooper would have laughed if someone had told her that she’d gladly part with some of her hard-earned money in exchange for a beauty treatment for her feet. However, once initiated into the world of pedicures, she soon became a bit of a junkie. She now had a pedicure twice a month and had purchased several pairs of sandals to show off her neatly polished toes. One of the first things she did after work was to kick off her heavy boots and slide her colorful toes into cute summery footwear.

“Hello, Miss Cooper,” a petite young Vietnamese girl greeted her and then turned on the water in the pedicure tub. She shook a jar of green granules into the water and then accepted the bottle of nail polish Cooper handed her. “Your sister coming, too?” she asked.

Cooper nodded and then glanced in the direction of the front door. “Here she is now.”

Ashley Lee Love strode into the salon like a supermodel flaunting her stuff on the catwalk. She wore pink capri pants stitched with navy blue whales, a wide leather belt that accentuated her narrow waist, and a gauzy white blouse. Her accessories included three strands of pearls, matching pearl earrings, a glimmering diamond tennis bracelet, and a Versace hobo purse that looked like it contained a bowling ball.

Flipping a shimmering lock of golden blonde hair over her tanned shoulder, Ashley inspected the array of available nail polish colors and then held up two bottles of identical looking pinks.

“Italian Love Affair or Argenteeny Pinkini?” she called across the salon to Cooper.

For some reason, the first name made Cooper think of Emilio. “The second one,” she said.

Ashley handed the bottle to her nail technician and then slipped off a pair of elegant sandals with a wedge heel. Sliding gracefully into the pedicure chair, she opened her purse, pulled out one of several magazines rolled up inside, and showed it to her sister.

Cooper stared at the beautiful little girl gracing the cover of Parents magazine. She was blonde, freckled, and had the deepest dimples that Cooper had ever seen. “Cute kid,” she said and then looked at Ashley’s expectant face. “Why are you showing me that?”

“I need to start doing some research,” Ashley answered with an enigmatic smile.

“On parenting?” Cooper was confused.

Ashley wiggled excitedly in her seat. “Of course, silly. How else am I going to get ready for when the baby comes?”

Cooper’s mouth came unhinged. She stared at the angelic pigtailed child on the cover of the magazine and felt a stab of jealousy. Ashley, who was exactly a year, a month, a week, and a day younger than Cooper, was married to a handsome and wealthy husband and lived in an elegant mansion in the most desirable section of the suburbs. She divided her time between playing golf and tennis, shopping at boutiques and high-end department stores, and organizing an endless parade of philanthropic events. And now, the woman who already had looks, love, and luck was going to have a baby.

What about me? Cooper stared forlornly at the bubbles surfacing around her feet. I’m the older sister. I have no husband, no children, and I spent five years of my life with a man who dumped me for another woman. When will it be my turn?

“It feels okay?” Minnie asked as she rinsed Cooper’s feet and began to massage her calves using a fragrant orange lotion.

“Yes.” Cooper forced a smile to her face. She suddenly felt ashamed of being envious of her sister. Touching the cover of the magazine Ashley held, Cooper looked into her sister’s lovely cerulean eyes and said, “A baby. That’s wonderful, Ashley. I’m really happy for you.”

2

Ashley reached over and swatted Cooper with her magazine, causing her nail technician to look up in alarm.

“I’m not pregnant yet, Coop,” Ashley hissed. “Don’t go jinxing me!” She returned her feet to their former position without even glancing at the befuddled technician. “But Lincoln and I have decided it’s time. Daddy and Mama would be so tickled to be grandparents and . . . Oh!” She jabbed her fingernail at an ad in the magazine. “Look at this adorable bassinet! I’m going to have the most beautiful nursery in the whole city! I’ve already brought home a dozen wallpaper samples to try out. I’m leaning toward green toile with the—”

“Aren’t you putting the cart just a bit in front of the horse?” Cooper interjected.

Ashley narrowed her eyes defensively. “Lincoln and I are young, happy, and in love. What’s going to stop us from having the most perfect, precious little baby anyone’s ever laid eyes on?”

Ignoring Ashley’s testiness, Cooper replied, “Nothing, I suppose.”

After all, you’ve always gotten everything you’ve ever wanted, Cooper thought sourly, reflecting that while the Lees hadn’t had the means to spoil their younger child, Ashley had managed to charm people into buying her sweets and trinkets from the time she could talk. At school, she’d always been the prettiest, most popular girl in the class. With each report card that came home, Cooper waited for her chance to finally outshine her sister, but it had never happened.

After high school, Ashley’s partial scholarship to Hollins University allowed her to cross paths with her future husband, Lincoln Love, at a polo match attended by central Virginia’s most affluent and influential families. A sycophantic sorority sister who also happened to be a congressman’s daughter had invited Ashley. The poor girl had hoped that by bringing Ashley along, the young men who couldn’t get near Ashley would settle for flirting with her. Ashley was in her element and had no difficulty juggling a dozen coquettish conversations until Lincoln rode up on his sleek gray mare. The horse cleared a path through other would-be suitors and Lincoln offered the lovely co-ed a glass of champagne from a bottle tucked in his saddlebag.

“It was love at first sight!” Ashley always said. “He even had a crystal glass in that bag.”

Now Ashley was happily established in a mansion off the elite River Road corridor. From the outside, it seemed like Ashley’s life was nearly perfect. A baby would be the jewel in the crown of an already charmed existence.

“I wonder if I’ll get really fat when I’m pregnant,” Ashley mused, breaking Cooper out of her envious trance.

For a moment, Cooper allowed herself to picture Ashley at three times her normal weight, wearing sweatpants with an elastic waist and a pullover top that strained across her bulbous bosom and belly. “I doubt you’ll get fat,” she said guiltily. “You work out five days a week.”

“You’re right!” Ashley declared. “I won’t let my body control the situation. I’ll enroll in prenatal yoga and follow a strict pregnancy diet.” She rubbed her hands together. “When’s your Bible study group getting together again? You didn’t meet all summer, right?”

“We start again this Sunday and I haven’t finished the homework yet.” Cooper had bought the workbook called Joseph: Amazing Dreamer at the LifeWay Christian bookstore the day after she had received Savannah’s letter in the mailbox announcing the topic of their next study. The following weekend, after spending the morning weeding the vegetable garden, Cooper had immediately settled onto the couch with her workbook and Bible and had completed all of the blanks in the reading with the exception of a single question, which she put off answering day after day.

Still, Cooper had missed the members of the Sunrise Bible Study during the summer and couldn’t wait to resume their meetings. She vowed to fill in that one blank before she saw her friends again on Sunday.

Checking her watch, she quickly eased her sticky toes into a pair of flip-flops. “I need to get back to work.”

“Don’t put your work boots on until the last second and don’t worry about paying, this is my treat.” Ashley patted her purse. “Go on now,” she teased. “You don’t want to keep those copiers waiting. I can practically feel the toner running low somewhere in the city.”

Cooper could hear her sister’s snigger all the way to the parking lot.

“Now she’ll add a baby to all her other blessings? And me? I live with my folks, am thousands of dollars in debt, and still want a cigarette months after quitting. It’s just not fair!” she complained to the heavens.

Eyeing the clock, Cooper realized that her lunch hour was nearly over. She drove back to work, accelerating through two yellow lights—one of which switched to red just as she passed beneath it. Spying a police car in the opposite lane, Cooper’s heart lurched into her throat, but the officer was looking out his passenger window and didn’t spot her transgression. She exhaled in relief and eased her foot from the gas pedal.

I’ve been so unsettled lately, she thought as she parked at her office building. Even though she was already five minutes late returning from lunch, she picked up her Bible study workbook from the passenger seat and opened to the question she had yet to answer. Gripping a pencil in her hand, she read the italicized words for the tenth time in a matter of days.

What are you seeking most at this time in your life?

Cooper stared at the question for a long moment, remembering a time when she’d been Drew Milton’s girlfriend. He broke up with Cooper nearly a year ago and was now engaged to another woman, but Cooper still missed being a part of a couple.

Taking a deep breath, Cooper hastily scribbled: I want to fall in love again. I’m ready, Lord. I am so ready.

• • •

“What happened to your face?” asked Jake the plumber when Cooper entered the Hope Street Church Christian Academy classroom where her Bible study group met.

Cooper reached up to touch the swath of red bumps covering the left side of her face and neck. The rash had almost kept her from coming to the meeting, but her desire to see her friends—Nathan Dexter in particular—had overwhelmed her embarrassment.

“It’s poison ivy,” she said, her hand lingering on her itchy cheek. She’d covered the area with clear Calamine lotion and had then applied a layer of foundation on top of that, hoping to camouflage the rash. Instead, she’d created a kind of flesh-colored paste that glistened in the morning light.

“I don’t know much about plants, but when I schedule an open house I always check the yard for poison ivy the week before,” Trish said, absently smoothing a strand of her shellacked copper hair.

“You’re still beautiful to me.” Savannah, the legally blind folk artist and leader of their Bible study, reached out for Cooper’s hand. “It’s good to have you with us again, my dear.”

Cooper squeezed her friend’s hand in return.

“So how did you end up getting that on your face?” Bryant Shelton, Richmond’s best-known meteorologist, persisted.

“My grammy’s taken in a stray cat. It’s a longhair and I was petting it the other night right after it came back from the woods. The oil from the plant must have transferred from its fur to my fingers, and I guess I touched my face.” Resisting the urge to dig her nails through the prickly skin on her cheek, Cooper slid into a seat next to Quinton, who was furiously writing something on a yellow legal pad. “Are you writing a new song?” she asked, hoping that the questions about her rash would cease if she changed the subject.

Quinton, a portly investment banker with an aptitude for baking and penning praise songs, nodded. “Something just came to me and I wanted to get it down before we start talking about Joseph.”

“Speaking of faces,” Trish said and Cooper held her breath, but the Realtor turned a pair of violet eyes on Bryant. “I think I saw you with a new girlfriend at the movies last week. She appeared to be about the same age as our babysitter.”

“Missy? She’s a grad student. I met her here at church a few weeks ago,” Bryant said casually. “That’s a better start than most of my relationships have had.” In addition to his incredibly vague forecasts, Bryant was notorious for his series of failed marriages to young blondes half his age. Though he wasn’t her type, Cooper could see why women were attracted to the handsome meteorologist. Still, she knew that Bryant’s Bible study friends were worried about him rushing into one more doomed marriage and often prayed for him to proceed with more caution before pursuing yet another young woman.

“Does the future Mrs. Shelton know you wear makeup?” Jake teased.

Before Bryant could respond to Jake’s good-natured barb, Nathan Dexter walked into the room carrying a large bakery box.

Quinton forgot all about his song lyrics. “What did you bring us, Nathan?”

“A very special treat, my friend.” Nathan smiled. Cooper studied his kind, open face and then her eyes drifted over his wide shoulders and down his long, lean body. She felt her blood surge through her veins as he turned his amiable, intelligent gaze in her direction.

“What happened to you?” His tone was filled with concern.

“A cat gave her poison ivy,” Trish answered in Cooper’s stead. “What’s in the box?”

“I’ll let our fearless leader tell you.” Nathan opened the lid and held the box under Savannah’s highly sensitive nose.

“Strawberry cupcakes from the Mixing Bowl!” Savannah cried and the Sunrise members clapped in delight.

Jake stared at her in awe. “Lady, your nose is a fine-tuned instrument.”

“Coffee, cupcakes with real pieces of strawberry in the icing, and my dearest friends gathered around me . . . Who could ask for more?” She smiled. “I can. My motto for this study is to pray big, my friends. Let’s ask for a session this morning that will really wake us up. Will you join hands with me?”

As Savannah prayed aloud, Cooper couldn’t keep from stealing little glances at Nathan. Does he think I look totally hideous? she wondered.

“Any announcements before we begin discussing the amazing, and sometimes not-quite-so-amazing, Joseph?” Savannah asked the group.

Trish raised her hand and a trio of thick gold bracelets clanked on her wrist. “Tyler Fine Properties will be sponsoring a Door-2-Door Dinners route for two months. It’s a great program that serves needy people here in Richmond.” She put both hands over her heart. “Because of the sponsorship, a magnetic sign with my business logo will be placed on the delivery vehicles and dozens of housebound people will receive home-cooked meals.”

“That’s wonderful, Trish,” Quinton said.

Trish nodded. “Yes, but Door-2-Door needs more food packers and drivers. Would any of you be interested in helping with some of the weekend preparation and deliveries?”

Everyone readily offered to help.

Trish grinned at her friends. “Visiting the elderly isn’t everyone’s forte. I’m good at it because I know how to talk to all kinds of people, but if anyone prefers not to do the deliveries, you can still make a difference by packing food at the distribution center instead.”

“We might all be more comfortable volunteering in pairs,” Nathan suggested. “I know I would.”

“Could you guys imagine what a treat it would be if we brought those folks some of these cupcakes?” Quinton said through a mouthful of strawberry cupcake.

“Door-2-Door delivers healthy foods to those in need,” Trish retorted.

Nathan finished serving cupcakes and settled into the chair next to Cooper. While Trish talked about food, Nathan leaned over Cooper’s desk and whispered, “My sister is really allergic to poison ivy, too. I’ve seen worse.” He brushed her hand with his fingertips. “Once, she had such a bad case that I had to take her to the ER. Her face was all puffy and her eyes had swollen shut. She couldn’t even open her mouth all the way. I had to cut up pieces of hot dog for her lunch and push them into her mouth with a toothpick. Do you need me to cut up your cupcake?”

Cooper smiled and swatted Nathan’s arm with her napkin. She then looked up to find that she and Nathan were being watched with great interest by the rest of the Bible study members.

Savannah must have sensed that the weighty silence meant she should proceed, for she cleared her throat and placed her hand on her worn Bible. “Let’s start our discussion, friends. My goal this session is to not be late for worship service. Please help me stop by ten twenty-five so we can find seats in the auditorium before the first song begins.” She opened her workbook. “Now, I don’t know about you all, but I find Joseph fascinating! Who wants to talk about the first feature question—about parents playing favorites?”

“Well, Joseph was the son of Jacob and Rachel. Jacob loved Rachel more than any other woman on earth, so it’s no surprise that Joseph was his favorite son,” Trish said. “I’m an only child and my parents were older, just like Jacob was when Joseph was born. My parents made me feel special every day, and I imagine that’s how Joseph must have felt.” Tears appeared in her eyes. “This lesson made me realize just how good they were to me and how much I miss them.” She blotted at her eyes with a leopard-print handkerchief as Bryant squeezed her shoulder in compassion.

“I bet Joseph had very high self-esteem,” Quinton said.

“I wouldn’t call it self-esteem,” Jake barked. “That Joseph kid was a brat—straight and simple. Shoot, if my pop had given me a fancy robe like Joseph’s and I went around flaunting it in front of my older brothers while they were working hard in the hot sun all day, they’d have given me a serious beating!” Jake’s face looked stormy. “Sorry, but that’s just how I see it.”

“And we welcome your opinion,” Savannah said. “I have a sister. We’re very close, but she was often jealous of the attention I received because of my blindness. One night, she told me that she had prayed to lose her sight so that our parents would notice her more.”

“Whoa.” Nathan looked at their leader with sympathy. “What happened?”

“Well, she didn’t go blind,” Savannah laughed. “But a few weeks after she told me about her prayer, she fell off a horse and broke her leg in three places. She got plenty of attention, all right.” Savannah paused. “Any other comments on favoritism?” When no one spoke, she said, “Then let’s move on to Joseph’s dreams. There was an assignment in this week’s lesson that asked you to record your dreams to see if there might be messages in them. Mine disappear like mist by the time I wake up, so I didn’t have much to say. Anyone else?”

“I had a cool dream the other night,” Bryant began eagerly. “I was a kid, and it was a really hot day, like that string of hundred-degree days we had this past July. I could hear the music that the ice cream truck plays, but I couldn’t see the truck. I ran all around the neighborhood and couldn’t find it. Then, this lady who works at the station with me—she’s about my age, divorced, has two kids and isn’t my type at all—showed me where the truck was and I ordered an orange creamsicle.” He sat back in his chair. “Didn’t get to eat it, though. My alarm went off and that was that.”

“Perhaps someone is trying to tell you that your coworker might be worth having as a friend,” Trish suggested. “Even though she’s probably ancient—what is she, thirty?”

Bryant considered the question. “Paige is maybe thirty-five. But she’s funny and she comes up with great story ideas for the news desk. Maybe I’ll take her and the kids out for ice cream. Missy and I haven’t been getting along too well lately. It might be nice to go out with a woman and do something quiet.”

“There’s nothing quiet about two kids,” Quinton pointed out. “My nephews can make more noise than an angry football stadium crowd.”

“It would be a change from that techno music Missy likes,” Bryant said. “My head is still ringing from taking her dancing last night. If I asked out the woman from work, I could be in bed by ten!”

Nathan gazed into his coffee cup and said, “I’ve had a recurring dream that’s kind of creepy. Someone keeps knocking on the back door of my house and I can’t decide if I should let them in.”

“Can you see their face?” Savannah asked.

“No. Just a dark shape in the night,” Nathan said. “I sense the person’s a man, and though I’m not exactly scared of him I don’t think I want to invite him into my home.”

Quinton studied Nathan. “Is there anything going on at work? A project or new client that’s worrying you?”

Nathan snapped his fingers. “As a matter of fact there is! This guy wants me to design a commercial website where he can sell muscle-building vitamins. I guess he’s made a nice pile of money as a chemist because he drives a yellow H2, has a fancy gold watch, and a serious golf tan.” He flicked his eyes at Bryant. “He even out-bronzes you, my friend.”

Bryant pretended to be crestfallen. “First George Hamilton and now a chemist. Shocking.”

“Sounds like a lucrative project,” Trish said.

“It would be,” Nathan agreed. “He wants top-notch graphics, a flash video on the home page, shopping-cart features, you name it. And since my older-than-dirt A/C and heater units are on the fritz, I could use the cash.”

Jake perked up at the mention of the units. “You’re gonna call Mr. Faucet to replace them, right? You know we’re doing that stuff now besides the regular plumbing jobs.”

Nathan smiled. “I wouldn’t think of calling anyone else, Jake, but unless I accept this project, I won’t be able to afford a new fan.” He shrugged. “It sounds like a treasure chest has fallen in my lap, but I have a funny feeling about this guy.”

“Why don’t you get to know him?” Quinton said. “Take him out for coffee and see what your gut tells you. Listen to the man talk. He might surprise you.”

Nathan nodded. “That’s good counsel.”

The rest of the Sunrise group members murmured in agreement and then closed their workbooks as the chimes announcing the start of the worship service echoed in the hallway.

“We’re going to be on time for once!” Trish exclaimed.

“I’ll take everyone’s cups to the kitchen,” Cooper offered. “Would someone save me a seat in a dark corner?”

“Nah. We’re going to put you front and center,” Nathan said with a wink and a smile.

“You’d better not!” Cooper smiled back.

Cooper gathered napkins for the garbage, then piled the empty mugs and coffee carafe on a tray and carried them into a small kitchen area used by the academy teachers. She washed the cups thoroughly, enjoying the feel of the warm water and the scent of the lemon dish soap. As she rinsed the last cup, her dream from the night before came back to her with vivid clarity.

In the dream, Cooper had been heading for the banks of Gum Creek, the stream that wound lazily through the woods behind her house before meandering westward into Louisa County. She’d been barefoot and had continuously stepped on the prickly gumballs that fell like small bombs from the leafy canopy above. Finally, after picking her way over twigs, sharp pebbles, and spiky plants, Cooper reached the narrow creek.

A rowboat sat expectantly in the placid water, but when she reached down to grab it, the boat shifted sideways and was pulled away by the current. Within seconds, it was out of reach. Hoping to reclaim the little vessel, Cooper ran along the bank, but the current kept moving faster and faster, bearing the boat farther and farther away. Cooper couldn’t keep up.

Suddenly, the space of sky ahead of her turned dark and a fork of lightning fractured the clouds and punctured the stream. Cooper’s dream-self halted, afraid. And then, in a blink, she was in the boat, barreling straight for the storm. There was no rain—just black clouds, jagged lightning, and an eerie silence. Again and again, Cooper reached out and tried to grab hold of one of the plants growing at the edge of the bank, but they slipped from her grasp as though made of fog.

Cooper had woken abruptly, her body trembling with dread. Even in the comfort of the morning light, she could still see the black horizon and the tongues of lightning, waiting for her imminent arrival.

“Lord, are you trying to warn me?” she whispered in the silent kitchen. “Is a storm coming?”

She stared at the last drips of water as they slipped into the drain and then shut her eyes. Alone, in the stillness of the small room, Cooper strained to listen. The answer she heard in her heart was, Yes.

3

Cooper opened the cupboard in her tiny kitchen and inspected its sorry contents. Not only had she forgotten to stock up on bananas and oatmeal the last time she was at the store, but she was also fresh out of eggs and Honey Bunches of Oats. Luckily, her mother lived mere yards away and was likely to have breakfast leftovers.

Closing the door to her apartment, which was located above her parents’ detached garage, Cooper walked over the flagstone patio toward the back door of the cozy house. She noted that the herbs in her mother’s container garden just outside the kitchen were starting to look tired.

“The end of summer,” Cooper remarked to Columbus, their caged red-tail hawk. Columbus blinked his eyes lazily at her. “Daddy must have taken you for an early walk. You must have found a fat field mouse to be looking so smug.” She smoothed down the silky feathers on the back of the hawk’s neck. Columbus had become a member of the family two years ago after his wing was fractured by a bullet while he was roosting at one of the county airports. His assailant was never found, but the heartless attack had been written up in the Richmond Times-Dispatch, and within minutes of reading the story, Grammy was on the phone, demanding that she be allowed to adopt the injured bird.

Grammy had replaced the receiver and smiled at her son. “Earl. You gotta build me an aviary. And I mean right quick.”

Cooper’s father, Earl, was Grammy’s only child. He was a gentle, taciturn man who rarely denied his mother anything. When she wanted to live in his den instead of a retirement community, he agreed. When she wanted to go to bingo on Wednesday nights, he drove her and waited in the car until she was done. When she invited every stray dog, cat, bird, or bunny into their rural home, Earl simply sighed and drove to Wal-Mart with a list of the supplies needed to heal each one.

The injured animals only found a temporary haven in the Lee house. Once they’d recovered, they were either returned to their natural habitats or adopted by local families. The only animals ever to become permanent members of the family were Columbus and an enormous, tetchy, and tailless orange tomcat called Little Boy.

Because Little Boy was fond of bacon, Cooper half expected to find him waiting in the kitchen, but there was no sign of the tomcat in the sunlit room.

“’Morning, sweetie!” Maggie Lee called out while removing a tray of round cookies from the oven. “You on the prowl for some breakfast?”

Grammy looked up from her Reader’s Digest and pointed her thick magnifying glass at her granddaughter. “You see Columbus? He’s mighty pleased with himself.”

Cooper sat across from Grammy and smiled. “What’d he catch this morning?”

“A rabbit the size of a Thanksgivin’ turkey,” Grammy replied with a proud cackle. “Not bad for a bird that can barely get high enough in the sky to make a real dive.”

“He must’ve killed hundreds of pigeons when he lived at the airport,” Cooper said.

“Their best hunter. Not a doubt in my mind.” Grammy took a firmer hold on her magnifying glass and shook it angrily. “Whoever shot him will have to face judgment one day, along with all folks who are wicked to God’s innocent creatures!”

“There, there.” Maggie put a soothing hand on Grammy’s bony shoulder. “Would you like to sample one of today’s mistakes, Ma?”

The fury in Grammy’s hazel eyes vanished. “What kind have you got?”

“Iced lemon cookie.” Maggie placed several chipped cookies in front of Grammy. As Grammy began to eat, Maggie returned with two slices of raisin bread coated with cream cheese and a cluster of green grapes.

“Thanks, Mama. This is much better than anything I’d have dug up at my place.”

“You’d best fine-tune your cookin’ skills, girlie,” Grammy said “You gotta get that boy from church on the line and reel him on in. Best way to do that is to feed him.”

Cooper blushed and turned to her mother, who was busy sliding cookies into a plastic bag decorated with a Magnolia’s Marvels gold foil sticker. She then tied the bag with a gold ribbon and placed it into her delivery basket. Maggie hummed as she worked, and though she rose before dawn every morning to bake the gourmet cookies that were purchased by several cafes around Richmond, she looked as fresh and red-cheeked as a McIntosh apple.

Cooper finished her breakfast and brought her dishes to the sink, but her mother waved her off. “Go on, honey. You need to get to work.”

“Thanks, Mama.” Cooper kissed her mother’s cheek, which smelled like melted chocolate.

“You gonna see that boy this weekend?” Grammy asked before Cooper could get out the door.

“We’re volunteering together at Door-2-Door Dinners on Saturday.”

“How nice!” Maggie exclaimed, removing another batch of lemon cookies from the oven.

Grammy tossed her magnifying glass down in disgust. “A bunch of cranky old folks? What kind of date is that?” She frowned. “You listen to me, Granddaughter. I’ve been around for near eighty years now and I know a thing or two. If you’re gonna run around town deliverin’ food to old coots, fine. But afterward, go to dinner with that Nathan. Some place filled with young folks. Last time I checked, you were thirty-two years old and livin’ with your parents. If you want to change that, then change yourself.” She pulled out a catalog from beneath her pile of newspaper pages. “Here. This might give you a few ideas.”

Cooper accepted the catalog without looking at it, kissed Grammy’s forehead, which felt a bit like Maggie’s parchment paper, and headed out to her truck. Inside, she took a quick glimpse at the catalog Grammy had given her before tossing it on the passenger seat. “Only my grandmother would give me a copy of Victoria’s Secret,” she muttered and rolled her eyes.

When she got to Make It Work!, Cooper decided to shred the catalog using the machine in the break room, so she stuffed it into her workbag and, after greeting a daydreaming Angela, went to the locker room to change. Because both male and female employees shared the space, Cooper always changed in a bathroom stall. She was just buttoning up her uniform shirt when someone else entered the locker room.

“Lunch, books, pens. Boring,” she heard Emilio mumble and realized she’d left her bag on the bench by her locker. Was Emilio going through her things?

“Whoa! Now we’re talking!” she heard him exclaim and instantly imagined him pulling out the Victoria’s Secret catalog. Instead of confronting him, she decided to stay where she was.

“Look out, you little minx.” He produced a cat-like sound that Cooper suspected was supposed to be a roar “Emilio’s on the prowl.”

• • •

After an uneventful week of repairing seven copiers, four fax machines, and two laminators, Cooper was ready to socialize with her Bible study friends. Besides the Sunrise members, Cooper’s closest confidante was Angela. Lately, however, Angela seemed completely absorbed with their hunky new coworker. Even her customary flirtation with Mr. Farmer had waned, and Cooper worried that Angela might have actually fallen for Emilio.

In fact, Angela had spent their entire lunch hour singing Emilio’s praises. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “He’s a little vain, don’t you think?”

“Just young and sure-footed,” Angela had replied in Emilio’s defense. “He asked about you,” she said with a hint of reproach. “If you were single, for instance.”

“What did you tell him?”

Angela had shrugged. “That you had a crush on someone but things weren’t progressin’ much. That you and this guy were still Rated G.”

Cooper’s temper had flared. “Angela! I don’t tell you things so you can gossip about me behind my back!”

She felt bad about snapping at her friend, but she also didn’t like that Angela had been acting like a different person since Emilio joined their crew. Cooper secretly wished Mr. Farmer had hired someone a little less attractive.

Shaking away negative thoughts of her coworkers, Cooper met the Sunrise members at the downtown headquarters of Door-2-Door Dinners. The squat concrete building was teeming with activity. People streamed in and out of the front doors, large trucks pulled up to the rear of the building to deliver supplies, and meals were being loaded into an assortment of vehicles lined up along the western side of the building. Cooper glanced around nervously.

“You look like you’re about to jump out of a plane,” Jake said when he joined her on the stairs. “I wasn’t always a big people person, either, but in my line of work, I’ve learned how to deal with all kinds of folks. All ya gotta do is smile and you’ll be okay.”

Cooper couldn’t imagine having to work in people’s homes like Jake did. “At my job, folks don’t talk to me once they’ve shown me which machine needs fixing,” Cooper said.

“You’re lucky.” Jake snorted. “Me? I get dozens of bored women who want to tell me their life stories. If it’s not the ladies, then it’s a bunch of soft-handed men that want me to show them exactly how I do the repair, like I’m some kind of home-project TV show host. And if it isn’t the owners around, then I get the family pets instead. Fido and Fluffy just love to smell me in all sorts of embarrassing places just when I’ve got my head wedged in a cabinet under the bathroom sink.”

Cooper tried to shake off an image of Jake’s pants falling down as he bent his body in two, but he caught the look on her face and shook his pointer finger at her. “I know what you’re thinking, but no one sees my butt. I make sure my belt is really tight before I bend over, you got that?”

From behind them, they heard Savannah’s clear laugh. “Housewives, husbands, and dogs watching your every move.” She shook her head, her black braid swinging like a pendulum. “No wonder you were a smoker, Jake!”

Jake’s eyes twinkled as he looked at Savannah, who held on to Quinton’s arm. “I’m not in the clear yet,” he admitted. “I still need the patches, especially if it’s been a rough day.”

“I eat sweets when I’m grumpy,” Savannah confessed. “I might be blind, but I can find my way to a cookie jar like nobody’s business.”

“You and me both,” Quinton said.

Jake took Savannah’s free arm. “I’ll treat you both to an ice cream after today’s labors.”

“I’m just going along to talk to folks. You can hardly call that work,” Savannah protested.

“Sometimes that’s what our clients need the most,” a female voice said from the top of the stairs. A beautiful woman with lustrous locks of dark hair and green eyes the color of peridots smiled at them. “Are you here for the volunteer orientation?”

At that moment, Nathan appeared around the corner of the building with Trish and Bryant in tow.

“Hello! I’m Trish Tyler of Tyler Fine Properties. My company is sponsoring a route for two months.”

“Yes, of course. I’m Lali Gupta, the volunteer coordinator.” The two women shook hands warmly. “Won’t you please follow me inside? There’s a buffet table in our gathering room with coffee and cookies if you’d like to get a snack before we begin.”

The group fell into step behind Lali. She led them to a large room filled with rows of folding chairs. Cooper helped herself to a large cup of coffee and gazed around at the other volunteers.

She was surprised at the diverse spectrum of age, economic status, and race within the room. It seemed like a representative from every walk of life had chosen to volunteer for Door-2-Door Dinners that Saturday. It touched Cooper’s heart to see a wealthy white woman decked out in designer clothes and expensive jewelry sharing a laugh with a young African-American man wearing a paint-splattered shirt. Nearby, an elderly man wearing a brown fedora whispered to a young woman with Down syndrome, and at the end of the row, a trio of older ladies giggled along with a pair of Hispanic men.

“I can’t believe how many people give up their Saturday,” Nathan said. “It feels good just to sit here.”

Cooper gestured at the wall behind them and took a sip of coffee. “I like the photographs, too.”

Nathan took a few minutes to gaze at the oversized black-and-white portraits featuring several Door-2-Door Dinners clients. The portraits were headshots, and in each one the subject stared directly at the camera. Each expression was different. Some of the men and women seemed happy and even smiled a little. Others were somber or deeply sad, but an elderly African-American lady was laughing with her mouth open, her wrinkles spread out in a fanlike pattern as she displayed her three remaining teeth. The one that Cooper kept returning to was of an emaciated old man who rested a sunken cheek against his palm as though he was too weary to hold his head up any longer.

Beside her, Nathan swallowed hard and nodded toward the man’s portrait. “I lost all of my grandparents within a space of two years. None of these people look like them, but they remind me of how much I miss them.”

Cooper turned to him. “Remember how we visited Eliza last spring? At first, she was just a shut-in and a stranger, but she became a friend.” She touched his hand. “I bet we make new friends here as well.”

“I’m glad Trish recruited us. At least I get to spend more time with you.” He smiled at her, his brown eyes eager. Cooper’s heart drummed faster as Nathan draped his arm around the back of her chair. “I’ve been so wrapped up with this demanding client that I haven’t had time to do anything fun. I feel like I’ve kept you on hold and you deserve better than that.” His fingers cupped her left shoulder. “After we’re done here, would you like—?”

“Welcome, friends.” Lali Gupta greeted the volunteers in a clear, mellifluous voice and Cooper reluctantly turned to face her. “Thank you for coming to our orientation. Door-2-Door couldn’t succeed without help from generous members of the community. You will become one of over two thousand people who package, load, and deliver meals to our clients. Last year alone, we delivered two hundred and fifty thousand meals throughout the city of Richmond and its environs and I think we’ll top that number this year.”

“It just goes to show you,” someone mumbled amiably. “Nobody likes to cook anymore.”

Lali smiled. “In addition to our elderly clients, we also serve adults with disabilities and community members who’ve recently been discharged from the hospital and only require our services on a temporary basis. Those of you who have elected to adopt a route”—she nodded in Trish’s direction—“will get to know a handful of clients on a personal level. This can be an extremely rewarding experience.”

A giant of a man appeared through a doorway on Lali’s left. His black T-shirt, which was decorated with an iron-on of a wolf riding a motorcycle, was so tight that it seemed to dig into the flesh of his thick arms and neck. His legs were wide as tree trunks and his huge arms were big as barges. Cooper couldn’t help but stare at the two-inch braid growing from the man’s goatee. The end of the braid was held in place with a pink rubber band.

Spotting the man out of the corner of her eye, Lali beckoned for him to join her. “Meet Campbell Perkins. The kitchen is his domain.” She gazed at him fondly. “He’ll go over how to label the prepackaged meals, how long to spend at each stop, and what to do if a client seems unwell. It’s our goal to do whatever we can to make our clients and our volunteers happy. Again, thank you for being here today. Your gift of time, and of costly gas, will fill the hungry stomachs of our neighbors. More importantly, your friendly faces will brighten what might have been a lonely day for our clients. Bless you all.”

As Lali walked away, Campbell cleared his throat and began his lecture on packing food into the red-and-white-checked Door-2-Door soft cooler bags. He spoke like an army drill sergeant training a fresh battalion of recruits.

“You must label every single thing that you pack with your client’s name!” he barked. “You don’t want to give a vegetarian client a hunk of meat loaf and you don’t want to give a diabetic cranberry sauce, baked apples, and chocolate mousse with whipped cream. Got it?”

As Campbell held up some examples of properly labeled meals for the crowd to see, Cooper felt an uncomfortable pressure in her bladder. Glancing at the sixteen-ounce cup she’d just finished, she tried to focus on Campbell’s instructions, but when he began to discuss the types of liquids the clients were served, Cooper couldn’t ignore the call of nature another second.

“Be right back,” she whispered to Nathan and left the room. Returning to the main hall, her eyes darted around in search of a sign indicating that one of the many closed brown doors concealed a restroom. As they all looked the same, Cooper began to open the doors. One revealed a closet, another was locked, and the third led to a new hallway.

Something about the sudden stillness in the hallway caused Cooper to pause, but the mere sight of the water fountain a few feet ahead urged her onward. Finally, she found a door bearing the placard of a woman’s outline. Cooper practically ripped the door handle off in relief, only to discover that it wouldn’t turn at all. It was a single lavatory and was clearly occupied.

Cooper continued her quest until she ended up at a stairwell. Praying that the ladies’ room on the second floor was vacant, she took the stairs two at a time and found a restroom a few doors down from the stairway. All four stalls were empty and, out of habit, she chose the stall farthest from the door.

Cooper’s good fortune in finding a bathroom was quickly forgotten as she reached for the toilet paper. Only a shredded square remained on the roll. This would do if I were a Lilliputian, Cooper thought wryly and opened her canvas purse, hoping to find clean tissues inside. As she rummaged around, the door opened and two women engaged in a whispered conversation entered the restroom. “Not again!” exclaimed a voice that sounded like Lali’s.

“Mrs. Jensen’s daughter said that her mother’s gold and diamond necklace is gone. It was the most valuable thing in the house.”

“Is she sure?” Lali sounded forlorn.

“Positive,” the other woman replied. “Mrs. Jensen hid it inside a box of Ritz crackers. According to her daughter, it’s been there for over ten years. The daughter cleans it whenever she visits and Mrs. Jensen tries it on in front of a mirror. It’s one of their regular routines. Lali, both of them are really upset.”

“What’s going on, Anita? This is the fourth call about missing items this summer!” Lali’s voice trembled. “Nothing like this has ever happened before.”

There was a pause and Cooper was afraid to move. If she made a sound now, it would be obvious that she had listened to the entire exchange, so she raised her feet off the ground and tried to be as still as possible.

“It’s not necessarily a volunteer, Lali. Yes, we have people bringing those clients meals every day, but that doesn’t mean that one of them is a thief. It’s just a coincidence that the clients who have missing items are all ours.”

Lali sighed. “We bring them meals, fix things around the house, do yard work, light cleaning, and sometimes deliver pet food. Come on, Anita. All these clients have in common is Door-2-Door. We’re the only common denominator, so that means someone from this organization is stealing from our clients.”

“But that’s unthinkable!” Anita’s anger reverberated off the bathroom tiles. After being shushed by Lali, she lowered her voice. “Who would steal from the old and the infirm?”

“They’re easy targets,” Lali said sorrowfully. “I can’t picture a single member of our regular volunteer group doing such a thing. I’ve come to know most of them personally, but I guess we don’t know them well enough. Someone is hiding their true character from us.”

One of the women turned on the water in the sink and then quickly turned it off again. “I’d better clean these glasses.” Anita’s tone was full of ire. “From now on, I’m going to make it my job to watch the volunteers like a hawk. We can’t let anything else get stolen!”

“What about your other responsibilities?” Lali asked. “No one can get to know all the volunteers. We operate on trust here.”

“My other tasks can wait. I won’t have this program’s reputation tarnished because of one wicked individual. Don’t worry, I’ll flush the snake from the grass.”

“I hope so.” Lali released a heavy sigh. “I don’t want our clients to suffer.”

The women left the restroom.

Cooper washed her hands and hurried back downstairs to rejoin her friends. She wondered if she should mention the thievery to them. The conversation between Lali and Anita hadn’t been meant for her ears. On the other hand, she knew the Sunrise members would do anything to help solve the mystery surrounding the thefts.

I’ll wait for a sign, Cooper thought. Something that tells me that we need to get involved. Until then, I’m going to follow Anita’s lead. I’ll keep my eyes open. I’ll be on the lookout for someone who smiles like an angel but acts like a snake.

4

The Sunrise Bible Study members spent the rest of the morning loading coolers with prepackaged client meals. Because Door-2-Door was closed on Sunday, many clients received food boxes in addition to their regular Saturday meals to help see them through until Monday.

Since she’d never volunteered before, Cooper was paired with an older woman named Penny. Penny, who had dove-gray eyes and a guileless face, showed Cooper how to check the shrink-wrapped trays for holes in the plastic, how to pack the food in order, and the proper technique for stacking the coolers onto wheeled carts so they could be delivered to the cars parked outside.

“Checking for holes and making sure that no one misses a meal are the most important things.” Penny gestured at one of the trays. “Most of us drive routes when we’re done with our packing, so we’ve gotten to know all the folks whose names are on these labels.” She showed Cooper the name and route numbers located on each meal.

Cooper glanced at Penny as they worked, thinking that the soft-voiced woman seemed so intent on getting things right for the Door-2-Door clients that Cooper couldn’t begin to picture her pocketing jewelry or other valuables from their houses.

Looking around the clean, orderly kitchen, Cooper covertly studied the other volunteers. According to Campbell, there were seven “regulars” who showed up every Saturday morning. In fact, Campbell boasted that the “Super Seven” hadn’t missed a single Saturday in a year’s time.

The Super Seven were made up of four women and three men. Not one of them had shifty eyes, a nervous stare, or the guilty visage of a heartless villain. They were completely normal people. If anything set them apart, it was their willingness to give up fifty-two Saturday mornings to deliver meals to those in need.

While Cooper zipped up one of the coolers for route #4, she saw Erik, an attractive man in his mid-sixties, slide a crayon into Savannah’s hand so she could decorate a few of the plain cardboard food boxes. Nathan was paired with a woman near Penny’s age, and the two of them were chatting and laughing as though they were old friends.

A young man with Down syndrome had been partnered with Jake. His name was Eugene and he was obviously a movie buff. While he and Jake prepped coolers for a route, they quizzed each other on famous lines of dialogue and performed hilarious impersonations.

On the opposite side of the kitchen, Bryant was flashing his meteorologist smile at both of the women assisting him. The first was a large African-American woman named Brenda who shouted and guffawed in response to everything Bryant said. The other woman, Madge, was mousy and quiet. Cooper didn’t hear Madge utter a word all morning, but she glowed whenever Bryant paid her the slightest bit of attention.

Trish and Quinton were being mentored by Warren, a thin, rather nondescript man in his mid-forties with a sandy beard. Cooper couldn’t hear Warren issue instructions, but from the look on his face he took his job seriously. Trish did her best to impress him by mentioning that her company was sponsoring an entire route for two months. And though Warren smiled warmly in response, he got right back to the business at hand. Not to be deterred, Trish began to question Warren about his current residence.

“It’s a buyer’s market, you know,” she said and launched into a monologue about the most desirable neighborhoods. Warren tried to get her to focus on packing, but she refused to be interrupted.

“Lady!” a deep voice behind Trish roared. “It’s too damn early for all that jawin’!”

The kitchen fell silent as a man dropped a black cooler onto the counter with a thud. Without

another word, he began to fill the cooler with food trays.

Cooper scrutinized the newcomer out of the corner of her eye. He was of average height, with dark close-cropped hair and deep brown eyes. The skin of his entire right arm, which was the shade of roasted pecans, was covered by an intricate tattoo of a panther locked in combat with a cobra. The panther’s mouth was open in a fierce snarl and its claws were unsheathed into deadly points. The cobra’s fangs dripped venom as it reared back a hooded head in preparation to strike. Cooper was unnerved by the violence of the ink’s scene and couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to mark themselves in such a way.

“What are y’all starin’ at?” the man demanded, balling his hands into fists. The volunteers quickly averted their eyes, except for Eugene. Even though he was a good four inches shorter than the man with the shaved head, Eugene strutted up and punched him lightly in the stomach.

“You grumpy again, Leo? Why are you always so grumpy?” Eugene frowned. “Do you need a cookie?”

Leo’s hard face softened as he performed a mock right hook, which grazed the bottom of Eugene’s chin. “No cookie can help me. I got a lifetime of worries, little man. You wanna be here, but I gotta be here. That makes me mad. Get it?”

Eugene was befuddled. “You don’t like to help people?”

Leo shrugged. “I like to help myself to people’s stuff, but that’s about it.”

“That’s not the same!” Eugene responded indignantly. “I know you got in trouble, Leo, but it doesn’t mean you’re bad.” Eugene fixed his eyes on Leo’s tattoo. “I don’t think you’re bad.”

“Eugene, I’ve gotta drag my sorry ass in here for six months like the judge says, but I won’t be here a day after that, you hear me?” Scowling, Leo entered the walk-in fridge and reappeared with a wheeled cart filled with twenty rows of steel trays. Eyeing the food on the nearest tray, Leo grimaced. “Man! Not this nasty fish again. How these folks supposed to live on this crap? Why can’t they have fried chicken or pot roast or something? I wouldn’t feed this to a dog.”

“The dieticians know more than you,” Campbell said as he entered the kitchen, a clipboard in his right hand. “So don’t go insulting my flounder. It’s good when it’s heated. Has a light lemon-butter sauce and collard greens to go with it. Baked apples for dessert and a whole-wheat roll besides. It’s a solid, healthy meal, so don’t knock it.”

“Well, I don’t wanna look at it.” Leo pushed the cart to the middle of the floor, where Campbell stopped it from crashing into one of the stainless steel counters by blocking it with his boot-encased foot.

“Leo, why don’t you take your cheery self outside and start loading cars? I’m sure the drivers would love a taste of your special brand of perkiness this fine Saturday morning.”

“Ain’t you worried that I’ll get invited into the car of some fine-lookin’ lady who’s afraid to drive all alone into the rough parts of town?” Leo gave Campbell a challenging stare.

“I’ll take my chances,” Campbell said without bothering to look up from his clipboard.

Clearly irked, Leo grabbed the cart for route #21, flung the side door open, and pushed the cart down the concrete ramp, muttering under his breath as he went.

As soon as he was gone, the volunteers resumed their boisterous chitchat. Cooper recalled what she’d overhead in the restroom and felt compelled to speak to Penny in a hushed tone.

Leaning close to Penny, she asked, “What did Leo do? Did he commit a crime?”

Penny glanced at the door. “He was arrested for disorderly conduct. I know he had to pay a pretty steep fine and he has to volunteer here every Saturday for the next six months. He just started a month ago. I don’t know what kind of work he’s in, either, but I get the sense he has to make payments toward that fine every month.” Penny glanced at Eugene and sent a warm, maternal smile in his direction. “Eugene’s the only one Leo will talk to. The rest of us have tried to be kind to him, but as you can see, he’s not interested in making friends.” She gave an amused shake of her head. “But he sure keeps Saturdays lively.”

“I bet,” Cooper mumbled as she watched Leo reenter the kitchen. “Lively” was not the word she would have chosen to define Leo’s demeanor. She loaded a cooler onto a roll cart and embarked out the side door, in search of the driver of route #4.

Hostile is the word I’d use, she thought. But even so, he can’t be the thief. Mrs. Jensen’s missing necklace was the fourth item stolen over the summer. Leo’s only been here a month. Maybe he’s got a partner. I think he bears watching.

Cooper pushed the cart to the curb, where rows of cars filled with volunteers waited to collect food for the Door-2-Door clients. Seeing them, Cooper felt her heart swell with happiness.

“Wouldn’t this be a great photo for the front page of the Times-Dispatch?” she said to Nathan as they headed back up the ramp. “I’m sick of reading stories about drug busts, arson, and crooked politicians. Wouldn’t it be nice to read a headline about places like Door-2-Door?”

Nathan grinned. “Personally, I’d like to read a story about a woman with one green eye and one blue eye. Would such a woman care to have dinner with a boring, Star Wars–obsessed Web designer this evening?”

Cooper beamed. “I’d love to.”

“I really want to spend time alone with you, but I was also hoping you could help me get a feel for this new client of mine. He’s the one I told you all about in Bible study last week.” Nathan gave her a pleading look. “Would you be willing to meet him?”

“The guy with the muscle-building vitamins?” Cooper asked, trying to mask her disappointment over not being asked out on a proper date.

“His name’s Tobey Dodge and he’s from L.A.” Nathan parked his cart inside the kitchen and began to load it with the food for another route. “I just don’t speak his language, you know?”

“I don’t speak L.A., either,” Cooper said. “I’ve never had Botox or been in a tanning salon.”

“Of course not. I just feel calm when you’re around, Cooper. I can think more clearly if you’re sitting beside me.” He smiled shyly at her.

Cooper flushed with pleasure. “I’ll be there,” she said softly. “Right beside you.”

Resuming her work, Cooper thought about how lovely the phrase “beside you” sounded. It made her think of a bride and groom standing at the altar, or a couple married for fifty years seated next to one another on a porch swing. It spoke of companionship and maybe, just maybe, of love.

• • •

Cooper spent the afternoon taking Grammy to Tom Leonard’s Farmer’s Market so she could

purchase bacon and pork chops from the butcher counter. Grammy fussed at the butcher while he chopped and trimmed to her specifications. “I ain’t payin’ for fat, young man,” she warned.

Grammy took a long time perusing the loaves of bread. “I don’t want any of that low-fat crud,” she told Cooper, tossing a loaf back onto the shelf. “I want my bread to taste like bread. The last time I let your father buy it, he got some healthy stuff that tasted like corkboard. I told him he’s got the big belly, not me.”

Finally, Grammy selected some oatmeal bread and, after insisting on buying a bagful of peaches for Cooper to give to Nathan, they returned home. Grammy dumped her purchases in the kitchen and went to her room for a catnap while Cooper headed to her greenhouse to feed and water containers of young chrysanthemums, sedum, and asters.

When she was done caring for the plants, she showered and dressed in a chocolate-brown, knee-length skirt and a chartreuse sweater set. After placing her butterfly pin through the cardigan’s silky material, she gave herself a spritz of perfume and left the apartment.

Nathan was waiting for her outside the restaurant, looking dapper in a fawn-colored button-down and a checkered blazer. His tie was a shade of deep mustard stitched with russet leaves. Each leaf was cupped like a hand and appeared to be falling down the length of the material. It reminded Cooper that autumn was right around the corner.

“You’re lovely,” Nathan said, holding open the heavy wooden door to Hondo’s, one of Richmond’s finest steak restaurants.

Cooper smiled at the compliment.

“Tobey won’t be here for another half hour,” Nathan said, leading her to the bar. “I wanted to spend time alone with you first.” He brushed her hand with his and then perused the wine list. He ordered a glass of Merlot for himself and then asked Cooper what she felt like drinking. Unsure, she reread the cocktail menu, but nothing seemed to grab her interest.

“Would you like to try an autumn margarita?” the bartender asked. “It’s made with fresh cranberries, cranberry juice, and Grand Marnier.”

“That sounds perfect,” Cooper said gratefully.

“So what did you think about your first day at Door-2-Door?” Nathan asked as his wine was placed in front of him. “I liked everyone, but I’d rather not be partnered with that angry Leo guy.”

“He is a bit intimidating,” Cooper agreed.

Nathan sipped his wine. “I really had a good time this morning. I’ve been so busy with work that months have flown by without my having a social life. I didn’t realize until this week have much I’ve missed my friends.”

The bartender placed a hand-blown martini glass filled with crimson liquid on a coaster. Cooper sipped, enjoying the blend of fresh cranberries and lime. It was sweet and tart and utterly refreshing.

“Cooper.” Nathan lowered his voice. “I wanted to call you so many times over the past few weeks. I feel like we had something growing between us, and then I let work interfere. If I take Tobey on, it’s going to be even crazier, but I’d like to see more of you.”

The sincerity and hopefulness in his warm brown eyes made Cooper want to reach out and touch him, to trace the curve of his strong jaw. She felt such a powerful urge to kiss him that she leaned forward, closing the gap between their bodies.

“I’d like to see more of you, too,” she whispered, parting her lips and closing her eyes.

At that inopportune moment, someone called Nathan’s name. A short, stocky man swaggered into the restaurant dressed in a silver suit with a metallic sheen, an eggplant-colored shirt, and black shoes polished to a high shine. He wore more gold than Trish, including a gold watch, a gold link bracelet, and a gold pinkie ring.

Unaware that he’d interrupted a romantic moment, Tobey pumped Nathan and Cooper’s hands in greeting, complained about the traffic on Broad Street, slipped off his jacket, and ordered a Jack and Coke from the bartender without pausing for breath.

“What’s with all the Jesus fish on people’s cars in this town?” he asked Nathan while the bartender fixed his drink. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Los Angeles is a different kind of city. It’s way bigger. Glitzier. Totally hip. And we have tons of gorgeous women. Kinda like you.” Tobey smiled warmly at Cooper.

Cooper acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod, and then the hostess appeared to show them to their table. When they were seated, Tobey gestured at the heavy, leather-bound menus. “Order anything you’d like. The meal’s on me.”

Cooper thanked him, silently noting that the cost of her meal would equal half a week’s grocery bill. When their waitress returned, all three of them ordered the shrimp cocktail. Nathan and Tobey also chose the cowboy-cut rib eye with Caesar salads and roasted mushrooms, while Cooper opted for the petite filet and the house salad.

Digging into the breadbasket, Tobey turned to Nathan. “So here’s the rundown. I sell natural muscle-building vitamins and herbs called Big Man Products. I’d like a website called BigMan.com and I want a cool video showing before-and-after footage of a guy who used my stuff to build bulk. I have just the male model in mind, too. He’s pretty skinny, like I used to be, but I’m going to swap him free merchandise in exchange for his appearing in the video.”

“Do your vitamins work fast?” Cooper asked as their shrimp cocktails were served.

“Hey, I’m my own client!” Tobey held out an arm, unbuttoned his sleeve, and pushed the fabric toward his shoulder as far as it would go. He then performed a bicep curl. Cooper watched in repulsed fascination as branches of blue veins popped into relief against the bulge of his muscle.

“Whoa!” Nathan was clearly impressed. “Didn’t you have to lift weights to get that kind of result?”

Tobey shrugged. “Some, but not as much as I’d have to without my Big Man pills. I used to weigh one-twenty-eight and was as weak as a kitten.” He bit a piece of shrimp in half and chewed with gusto. “I want guys who look like total wimps to be able to hold their heads up high. They just need to know how to get their hands on my stuff and their lives could change forever.”

“I didn’t realize that natural herbs and vitamins could really change someone’s muscular makeup,” Nathan said as their appetizer dishes were cleared and their salads were served. “Are they safe?”

“I wouldn’t have used them if they weren’t. Believe me, there are tons of phony health-care products in L.A. That’s why I relocated. This is a fresh market. It’s not overloaded with merchandise that glitters like gold but won’t do a thing to change how you look.” Tobey skewered a stack of lettuce leaves and shoved them into his mouth until his cheek bulged like a chipmunk’s. “This is so good.”

Nathan sprinkled black pepper onto his Caesar salad. “Who manufactures your products?”

“I make them. Well, me and my girl, Sheila.” He crunched on a crouton. “We purchase the raw materials, grind the herbs, and fill the capsules in a lab so clean you could serve Thanksgiving dinner on the floor. The bottle labels are printed by a professional because packaging is really important. What I don’t have is a killer website.”

Cooper studied Nathan. He seemed to be contemplating Tobey’s request. “What kind of features are you looking for?”

The waitress appeared and silently removed their salad plates. She then served their entrées.

“I want it all!” Tobey exclaimed. “Shopping cart, promotional videos, banner ads on the top, search-engine sites as well as Facebook and YouTube. The only thing I don’t want is a way for people to pay with credit cards.”

Nathan looked surprised. “Really? That’s kind of standard with business websites. Lots of folks pay with credit cards. It’s convenient.”

“No plastic,” Tobey insisted. “I’ll take PayPal or whatever program will put money directly into my bank account, but that’s it. For a small-business guy like me, those credit card company fees are too steep. They really bite into my profits.”

Nodding, Nathan turned his attention to Cooper. “How’s the steak?”

“It’s really good,” she said. “My daddy would give his left leg for a bite.”

“Your daddy?” Tobey mocked her good-naturedly. “That is so Southern.” He dropped his cutlery on his plate and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “I thought this whole interview thing was kind of weird. Most people dream of getting a client like me who wants the works and has the money to pay for it, but I guess when you’re the best, you can do things your way.” He looked at Nathan as he signaled for the waitress. “And I could tell right off, by checking out your other sites, that you’re the best.”

Nathan’s cheeks grew warm at the compliment, but he said nothing. Tobey didn’t seem to notice. He signaled for the waitress again. “I don’t do dessert as a rule, but why don’t we have some Irish coffee? I can see you need a few more minutes to make your decision.”

“Just decaf for me,” Nathan said and Cooper followed suit.

Tobey gave the waitress a winsome smile. “And bring me the check, okay? I’m doing my damnedest to impress this man.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Seriously, Nathan. My product gives stringy, wimpy guys some confidence. Sometimes it helps them land a better job. Sometimes it gets them the girl. Sometimes they can finally stand up to the loser who’s been bullying them for years. It’s good stuff, I promise you that. Nothing slimy. Nothing illegal. Just a confidence boost. Everyone can use one of those once in a while, am I right?” He stood. “I’ll go powder my nose, and when I get back I hope you’ll tell me that we can work together.”

After he left the table, Nathan looked at Cooper. “What do you think?”

“Lots of people could use a fresh dose of confidence,” she said. “If the product is safe and effective, then it sounds like a good thing.”

Nathan nodded. “That’s what I think, too. It’s just that Tobey can be a little pushy, so I wanted to make sure I was going into this venture on my own terms. I’m really glad I had you here to help me come to a decision.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, just as the waitress placed their beverages on the table.

Cooper and Nathan were stirring cream into their coffees when Tobey returned from the restroom. Nathan held his hand out to Tobey. “I’ll build your Big Man site, Mr. Dodge.”

“Awesome!” Tobey slapped Nathan vigorously on the back just as Nathan picked up his coffee cup. The liquid sloshed over the rim and spilled onto his yellow tie.

Cooper stared at the stain spreading over the silk. It resembled the dark thundercloud from her dream. While Nathan dabbed at his tie with his napkin, Cooper cupped her hands around her coffee cup in search of warmth.

5

Cooper practically floated into the office on Monday. She kept rewinding the scene at Hondo’s bar when Nathan had told her that he wanted to make more of an effort to see her. Though he hadn’t exactly said as much, she assumed he wanted her to be his girlfriend.

“You’re grinnin’ like a child on Christmas mornin’,” Angela said. “I have an equally smug smile. I suspect we both have our minds on our men.” She gestured at her desk. “See anythin’ unusual?”

“You have two vases of roses today.” Cooper sniffed a cluster of beautiful saffron-colored roses, but they gave off no scent at all. She then smelled a bunch of delicate peach roses, which had a sweet, heady perfume.

“The yellow ones are from Costco,” Angela explained. “There wasn’t a note on the peaches roses, but I suspect Emilio put them on my desk.” She said his name reverently.

“Emilio?” Cooper was doubtful. “Why not Mr. Farmer?”

Angela shrugged. “He only brings me flowers on my birthday. Why would he change now?”

“He’s probably seen how you look at Emilio. Maybe he’s jealous.” Cooper firmly believed that their boss returned Angela’s affections but was too shy to express his feelings.

Angela began to file her nails. “I’ve dropped plenty of hints that I’d like to be a whole lot more than Mr. Farmer’s secretary. Maybe it’s time to set my sights elsewhere.”

Cooper disapproved of Angela’s pursuing Emilio because she didn’t think that he was a good match for her. She also didn’t want Angela to get hurt.

“Just remember that Mr. Farmer is very reserved. He probably needs a little help coming out of his shell. Don’t give up on him.”

At that moment, Emilio sauntered in from the parking lot, smelling strongly of musky cologne and gasoline. Angela wriggled in her chair. “Good mornin’, handsome.”

“Good morning, sunshine.” Emilio smiled and winked at her. He then leaned on her desk, as though he planned on settling in for a leisurely chat. “What did you girls do this weekend? Go clubbing? Shake your stuff on the dance floor? Get a little wild?” He threw Cooper a searching look.

“Cooper volunteered at Door-2-Door Dinners packing food,” Angela said proudly. “I shopped, went to the doggie bakery with Betty Boop, and had a glorious brunch at the Jefferson Hotel with some friends.”

“Who’s Betty Boop?” Emilio inquired, turning his attention back to Angela.

“Oh, you really are a young thang.” Angela giggled coquettishly. “Betty Boop is my Yorkshire terrier. She’s named after the famous cartoon character from the 1930s. She’s funny, sexy, and has giant eyes, jet-black hair, and a body with hourglass curves. Kinda like mine.”

Emilio blinked. “I’m not into cartoons. My idea of a good time is popping open a few cold ones and watching sports on TV. If there’s no game on, I’ll channel surf until I find a Stallone or Chuck Norris flick. Of course, it’s more fun to watch the tube with company. And my favorite company is the female kind.” He smiled disarmingly at both women.

Cooper made a big show of checking her watch. “Time for work,” she mumbled and hustled off to the locker room. When she emerged from the stall, having changed into her uniform shirt, Emilio was tying his black work boots.

“Do you like flowers as much as Angela does?” he asked, his back and shoulders pressed against a row of lockers. Cooper wondered if Emilio leaned on every piece of furniture at hand.

“I love all plants.” Cooper checked to make sure she had additional rags in her toolbox. “Except poison ivy.”

“You a rose girl, too?”

“No. I like wildflowers better. I prefer nature in the raw.” Cooper glanced up as Ben entered the locker room.

He looked like he’d slept poorly, but he still managed a smile for Cooper. She was certain he knew that she was the one who’d hidden a brochure for the loved ones of alcoholics in his locker a few months ago. She didn’t regret her decision, especially since Ben had seemed more like his old, happy-go-lucky self lately, and Cooper hoped that he and his wife were getting the help they needed.

Ben went to the sink and began to wash his hands. Emilio said hello to him but kept staring at Cooper. “I like to pluck wildflowers,” he said, licking his lips.

“How nice,” Cooper replied, grabbed her toolbox, and hurried out of the room. Things were getting decidedly uncomfortable around Emilio, and pretty soon Cooper was going to have to do something about it.

• • •

After work on Friday, Ashley called to see if Cooper wanted to join her for dinner.

“Is Lincoln working late again?” Cooper asked when Ashley parked in the driveway an hour later.

“I don’t know why I have the car washed before I come here,” Ashley complained instead of answering. She blew a speck of dust off the dashboard. “Lincoln’s kicking off the Labor Day Sale-a-Thon at the dealership.”

Cooper slid into the passenger seat and reached for her seat belt.

“Are you ever going to opt for an accessory other than that brooch?” Ashley eyed Cooper’s butterfly pin. “I know Grammy gave it to you, but retro isn’t in vogue right now.”

Cooper frowned. “I don’t care what’s in. I love this pin. It represents a story and—”

“Grammy’s love. I get it,” Ashley said, sounding a little jealous.

Ashley drove to Five Guys, where the two sisters gorged themselves on burgers and spicy Cajun fries. Afterward, they stopped by Barnes & Noble so Ashley could buy a book on pre-pregnancy health routines. By the time they were done shopping, Cooper had a new historical fiction novel while her sister had an entire bag filled with reference books on conception.

Ashley showed two of the larger tomes to her sister. “Aren’t these babies adorable?” She showed Cooper the covers of Getting Pregnant: What You Need to Know Right Now and From Conception to Birth: Life Unfolds.

“Don’t you know how conception works by now?” Cooper teased as Ashley loaded her bag into the trunk.

Slamming the car door closed, Ashley snapped, “I’ve had more practice than you, that’s for darned sure.” Cooper was surprised by the vehemence in her sister’s tone, but Ashley’s voice softened slightly as she changed the subject. “So what is your story with Nathan? I thought you were becoming a couple. Have you gone out again since that night you made out on his porch swing?”

“Not alone,” Cooper admitted. “But he said that he wants to see more of me.”

Ashley snapped her fingers. “There you go! He is interested.”

Gunning the Lexus’s engine, Ashley nearly backed into a knot of teenagers meandering toward the sidewalk. They made a few rude hand gestures at her, but she didn’t even notice.

“If you and Nathan get serious, you’ll have to think about what you’re wearing under your clothes.” Ashley turned on to the main road. “Do you own any lingerie?” she yelled over the wind noise.

“I can’t believe it,” Cooper muttered, thinking back to the Victoria’s Secret catalog stuffed to the bottom of her workbag. “My baby sister and my grandmother are both trying to talk me into dressing like a hooker.”

But that night, Cooper resolved to at least buy a bra that wasn’t made of white cotton.

“I might as well take the Boy Scout motto to heart,” she said to herself, “and be prepared.”

• • •

The following Saturday at Door-2-Door, Cooper had just finished loading the last of route #10’s pair of coolers when Lali entered the kitchen.

“Would anyone be willing to stuff envelopes instead of delivering food this morning?” She shot Campbell a look of appeal. “If that’s all right with you.”

“Of course.” Campbell beamed at her and Cooper was reminded of the adoring looks Jake gave Savannah from time to time.

“I’ll do it,” Cooper said.

“You sure you don’t want to come with me?” Penny asked Cooper for the second time as they loaded coolers and three weekend food boxes into Penny’s Buick.

Cooper nodded. “I might go with Nathan when he drives a route next week. People usually deliver in pairs, right?”

“Yes. It gives one person the chance to talk to the client while the other unloads the food. We don’t have much time at each stop because folks at the end of the route are waiting for their meals, so it’s nice for one of us to focus on the client’s general well-being while our delivery partner takes care of business.” She pointed to the names on her delivery list. “Sometimes the food is secondary to the socializing. Our clients eagerly await our arrival.”

Thinking about the thefts that had occurred over the summer, Cooper said, “Does every volunteer always drive the same route?”

“No. We drive a route until we get to know the folks well and then switch. That way, our clients get to meet lots of people and don’t get too . . . attached. You see, we only have a little bit of time to spend with each client, and if they’re real familiar with one of us they’ll want us to visit or do lots of little chores. That won’t work because we have to keep a tight schedule so everybody gets fed.”

“I guess that’s the most important part of the job,” Cooper said.

Penny smiled. “I know just about all the clients on the Saturday routes by now. Of course, they change, too. Some pass away, some go into nursing homes, and the lucky ones move in with family members.”

“It must be hard to get close to people and then have them disappear from your life,” Cooper said. “Maybe that’s why I’m nervous about going on the routes.”

Penny’s gaze was sympathetic. “We do what we can while we can. It’s enough to bring them food and company for a little while. It’s a gift for them, but for us, too.” She put her hand on the door handle. “But if you want to stick with a route that doesn’t change often, then take number nine. We’ve had the same twelve people for a year.” She lowered her voice. “Unlike route six. Three people died over the summer. It was pretty difficult to lose several friends so close together.”

“That must have been awful!” Cooper edged the cart away from the car as Penny attached a magnetic Door-2-Door Dinners sign emblazed with the Tyler Fine Properties logo.

“It’s just life, dear,” Penny said and waved good-bye.

Cooper watched the old car chug off and then wheeled the cart back up the ramp. Lali was waiting at the top, chatting with Nathan.

“Drive safely,” Lali told him. Nathan winked at Cooper and then got in his car.

Once all the drivers had left, Lali led Cooper back to a warren of cubicles. Every desk was stacked with piles of paperwork and oversized calendars filled with appointments. Myriads of colored Post-it notes covered each wall. Photos of loved ones, movie ticket stubs, handwritten letters, and children’s drawings were fastened by thumbtacks to the surface of each desk’s bulletin board not already papered by phone lists, Excel spreadsheets, and typed memos.

“I don’t know if we have a free workspace in this whole building!” Lali laughed melodiously. “I suppose I could move my broken printer off my desk and let you work there.” She sighed. “That printer has bested me. I thought that if I peeked inside I could tell why it keeps jamming. Boy, was that a mistake.”

“I could take a look at it for you,” Cooper offered. “I fix office machines for a living.”

“That would be wonderful,” Lali said happily. “It’s one of our laser printers and we’re really hurting without it.” She directed Cooper to a set of larger cubicles toward the back of the room. The desks were all unoccupied except for one. Hunched over a list of figures, a plump Hispanic woman frowned in concentration even as her right hand flew over the keys of an adding machine.

“That’s Anita,” Lali whispered. “I never talk to her when she’s in math mode.” She pointed to the next cubicle, which shared a wall with Anita’s. “Here’s the printer. I just shoved it to the side and have been trying to work around it all week.”

“I have a toolbox in my truck.” Cooper’s attention was drawn to the partially dissected machine. “I’ll go get it and see what I can do.”

“We’re so lucky to have you volunteering today.” Lali smiled and Cooper felt infused with warmth. “I’m going to drum up a little snack for the three of us.” Lali jerked her thumb toward Anita’s cubicle. “She’s going to need something to lift her spirits after she reviews the budget. See you in a bit.”

After collecting her toolbox, Cooper examined the HP 2100 printer. Its LED screen flashed a neon-green error code, but Cooper knew that the jam could be connected to several different parts. She checked the most obvious area—the paper roller—in hopes of finding a small scrap of paper lodged there, but there were no bits or shreds hiding in the recesses of the printer.

Retrieving her screwdriver, Cooper removed the paper roller and laser-scanning device and peered inside the printer. It quickly became obvious that the problem had occurred around the fuser rollers, the part of the printer that melted the toner and transferred ink to paper. Pieces of thick cardstock had become wedged at both ends of the fuser, keeping the paper from sliding over the rollers.

While Cooper removed the scraps using a pair of long tweezers, Anita’s phone rang.

“Anita Elmont speaking,” Cooper heard Anita say. And then, “Oh, Lord. Oh, the poor thing. How did it happen?” Her voice was shrill with worry.

Cooper dropped the last remnant of cardstock into Lali’s garbage can. She watched it flutter down into the dark receptacle like a broken butterfly falling through the night sky.

“Our volunteers found her? Oh, Lord,” she repeated with a little moan. “One of them is delivering for the first time today?” She paused. “Yes, I’ll tell Lali. We’ll call the family, too. How did she pass?” She grew quiet again. “Oh?” she whispered and then added, “Thank you for calling.”

Cooper heard footsteps heading their way.

“Campbell made pumpkin raisin bread,” Lali announced cheerfully. “It’s still warm from the oven.” Her gait slowed as she neared Anita’s desk. “What’s wrong?”

“Mrs. Davenport died,” Anita said somberly. “Brenda found her. She had a new volunteer with her today. That TV weatherman.”

Bryant! Cooper thought.

“Oh, dear.” Lali set a plate on Anita’s desk. “What happened?”

“One of the paramedics called on the way to the hospital—that same nice young man who picked up Mr. Manningham last month.”

“But Mrs. Davenport was just fine yesterday.” Lali’s voice trembled. “How can this be? I’m having déjà vu. This is just like the morning we heard about Mr. Manningham! Anita, how can they both have been in perfect health one day and be dead the next?”

Anita remained silent for several moments.

“Did the paramedic share the cause of death?” Lali asked quietly.

“He didn’t know what it was. But Lali, Mrs. Davenport was sitting upright in her chair.”

“Just like Mr. Manningham,” Lali breathed.

Cooper heard the squeak of Anita’s wheeled desk chair as she shifted her weight. “Lali, I hate to say this, but what if the deaths weren’t natural? Two folks dying upright in their chairs. Two folks who were fine and dandy the day before?” Her voice rose. “What if someone helped these two into the next world? Someone who didn’t get what they wanted from them?”

“As in our thief? You think the person that took Mr. Manningham’s coin and Mrs. Davenport’s ring crossed that line? That our clients were intentionally killed?” Fear punctuated Lali’s words.

“I am.” Anita released a heavy sigh. “Lord help us, but there’s a devil among us. A devil disguised as a saint.”

6

Bryant was unusually subdued prior to the Sunrise Bible Study Group’s discussion of their Amazing Joseph homework.

“My housekeeper’s Brazilian,” Trish explained, removing layers of plastic wrap from a plate of cookies. “I asked her to bake something for today. I can make something passable from a mix, but this woman can cook!” She spread her hand out over the food. “She made coffee cookies, a bolo cake, and fried plantains.”

“I’ll sample one of everything,” Quinton said eagerly. “This bolo cake’s a little like my mama’s pound cake, but it’s even more moist. Don’t tell her I said that.” He speared a plantain with a plastic fork and dropped it onto his plate. “Thank you, Trish.”

Bryant gestured at the carafe in Cooper’s hand. “Would you hit me with some caffeine, Cooper? I swear, my hands have been shaking since yesterday.”

Cooper filled his mug and then gave him a curious look.

Bryant met her eyes. “I’m still unsettled. Even my George Hamilton tan has faded since I saw poor Mrs. Davenport.”

“Did she look peaceful?” Jake wanted to know. “I’d feel better about finding someone like that if I could just picture them being asleep.”

“Her mouth was hanging open like she’d fallen asleep, but she was slumped sideways in her chair and she was so pale. Her skin was white, her hair was white, her housedress was white. Ghost-like.” Bryant spoke very softly. “I prefer to picture older folks, like my parents, dying in their beds surrounded by family.” He stared forlornly at his coffee cup. “I believe that’s what got to me. Seeing Mrs. Davenport and thinking of my own mama. It scared me.”

Savannah nodded. “In Isaiah forty-six, God says, ‘Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.’” She gave Bryant an affectionate smile. “The Lord brought Mrs. Davenport home. Her spirit was long gone by the time you got there. She was probably looking down from heaven and feeling sorry for you!” Savannah laughed.

Bryant held his hands up. “Okay, I’m ready to focus on Joseph now, even though our last page of homework bothered me a bit.”

“Me too,” Nathan agreed. “I can’t believe that Jacob’s sons lied to him and shoved that bloodstained robe in his face. They made him believe Joseph was dead.”

“Those brothers must have been on the verge of boiling over for years,” Trish said.

Quinton shook his head. “It’s such a horrendous heartbreak for a parent to lose a child, and Joseph’s death was sudden and brutal to boot. No wonder Jacob aged overnight.”

Trish’s eyes filled with tears. “When I think of anything bad happening to one of my precious girls, oh, I just can’t even say it! Poor Jacob! That poor man!”

The group shared the remainder of their homework answers and then closed their workbooks.

“I wonder if anyone will miss Mrs. Davenport,” Bryant said, getting up to refill his coffee mug.

“I’m sure someone will.” Nathan gave Bryant’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Cooper served herself a plantain, returned to her seat, and began slicing the fruit into tiny pieces.

“You look like you’re planning to feed a toddler,” Trish said. “Are you all right?”

Cooper dropped her fork. “I’m just wrestling over whether or not to share something with all of you.”

Jake gestured at her with both hands. “Come on, out with it!”

Cooper hesitated. Her friends gazed at her with a mixture of expectancy and impatience.

“Do I have to go out to the Mr. Faucet van for my toolbox and pry the secret out of you?” Jake put on a theatrical scowl. “I know you have your own toolbox, but try to remember where mine have been.”

“Okay, okay. You win.” As Cooper looked at her friends, she felt the lighthearted moment slip away. “I overheard alarming things both times we were at Door-2-Door’s headquarters. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but now I feel compelled to share what I heard.”

Reluctantly, she told her friends about the thefts and the similarities between Mrs. Davenport’s and Mr. Manningham’s deaths.

“What are you implying?” Trish asked when Cooper was done. “That someone deliberately harmed these people?”

“Seems clear as glass to me,” Jake said with a snarl. “Stealing from folks who live alone and have no one to look out for them! Finding the one or two precious things they’ve tucked away and taking it.” He banged his fists against his desk. “I’d like to meet this scumbag in a dark alley.”

“Lali said that both clients died suddenly, and in their chairs? With no signs of illness the previous day?” Nathan asked, his expression troubled.

Cooper nodded.

“And both were victims of the Door-2-Door volunteer burglar? This is awful.” Quinton shook his head woefully.

“Wait a minute!” Bryant interjected. “We don’t know that the thief is a volunteer. Other outsiders must go into these people’s homes.”

“Like who?” Trish demanded. “You heard what Lali said during orientation. Door-2-Door arranges for food delivery, light housekeeping, yard work, and home repair. They even take care of driving their clients to important appointments and seeing to their pets. That’s why I wanted to sponsor a route. Door-2-Door does so much more than provide nutritious meals.”

“What about medical treatment?” Bryant argued. “These folks need regular checkups, right? My mother sees several doctors and she’s fit as a fiddle.”

“I think Medicaid pays for a nurse to come to their homes, but I don’t know how often,” Savannah said. “I could ask Pearl, the woman who helps me with errands and such. Her daughter’s a nurse.”

“Either way, someone’s mighty shady!” Jake exclaimed. “And it’s our duty to make sure that no one else gets robbed or . . . hurt. We need to figure out just who we’re working with every Saturday and find the dirty rat hiding behind a mask of kindness and charity.”

Most of the Sunrise members nodded in agreement, but Trish looked unhappy. Cooper suspected that Trish was concerned that her company’s reputation would suffer if her friends launched their own investigation. “The volunteers all seem like lovely people,” she said. “What if we’re jumping to conclusions? We could be making a huge mistake.”

“What do you think, Savannah?” Cooper asked.

Savannah tugged on her long black braid and sighed. “What’s happening to those people is unjust. The elderly should be treated with love, dignity, and respect.”

Quinton glanced at Cooper. “But do you believe we should get involved?”

After a long pause, Savannah nodded. “A line from the fourth chapter of Genesis comes to mind: ‘Sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.’” She looked intently at her Bible study group. “Someone has opened the door wide and invited sin to become their master. I believe we’ve been called to find this wolf in angel’s robes before someone else falls prey to their corrupted heart.”

• • •

Cooper wanted to look her best for her date with Nathan. He was taking her to a trendy French restaurant downtown and Cooper’s head was already filled with romantic images of a candlelit meal filled with intimate conversation followed by a stroll in the city. She hoped they’d find a private place where Nathan could take her in his arms and kiss her good night over and over again.

It was this last vision that encouraged her to wear the pale green bra she’d bought at the mall that afternoon. The saleswoman, who’d been the epitome of tact and discretion, had sold her a water bra.

“It’s very comfortable and will enhance your natural shape,” the woman said. “It looks great under T-shirts and cocktail dresses.”

Cooper had squeezed the padded cups and the material had given way as though it were stuffed with Jell-O. But when she tried it on, she’d found it extremely comfortable and liked the way its shape subtly emphasized her curves.

“You’re lookin’ just like a flower this evenin’,” Grammy exclaimed when Cooper passed her in the garden. “How could a man not fall in love with you?”

Stroking her butterfly pin, Cooper blushed. “Thanks, Grammy.”

“You need to take my cardboard cat carrier with you,” Grammy added when Cooper turned to leave.

“What? Why?”

Grammy threw out her arms in a gesture of helplessness. “I’ve got one of those feelin’s again. The ones I get when there’s an animal nearby in need of help. Just take the carrier and put an old lady’s mind at ease, would you?”

“Sure, Grammy.” Cooper kissed her grandmother’s papery cheek. “Though the only thing I’m going to bring home is a doggie bag filled with French leftovers.”

• • •

Cooper met Nathan at Can Can’s bar, where they shared half a bottle of white wine and an artichoke-and-goat-cheese tartine. The restaurant was packed. Every bar stool and cafe chair surrounding the white-clothed tables was occupied. The noise of the boisterous diners echoed loudly throughout the eatery. The abundance of raucous laughter, clanking silverware, and raised voices created quite a din.

“Not exactly a place for quiet talks, is it?” Nathan shouted.

“It’s a good thing you made a reservation!” Cooper yelled in response.

A chic young hostess approached the bar and mouthed that their table was ready. Cooper and Nathan were seated next to the front windows, where they could watch passersby. In turn, the people strolling on the sidewalk could gaze at the entrées Nathan and Cooper had ordered. Nathan chose the salmon au poivre accompanied by roasted root vegetables, pickled beets, and horseradish potato puree.

“You’re welcome to my beets,” Nathan joked. “I’ve never cared for them.”

“No, thanks. I’d rather have what’s on my own plate.” Cooper smiled at him and then took a moment to appreciate the artistic display of grilled lamb chops, roasted red peppers, olives, and garlic sausage before digging in.

“I love a woman who eats red meat.” Nathan raised his wineglass in her honor.

Cooper grinned and clinked her rim against his.

Nathan talked about how time-consuming his project involving Big Man Products had become and admitted that he’d been considering taking a break from his Saturday volunteering.

“After this morning, I knew I couldn’t leave,” he said, setting his fork onto his plate, which had been completely cleaned with the exception of the pickled beets. “We need to get to know the other volunteers and quickly.”

An idea came to Cooper. “Maybe we should host a party and invite all of them. We don’t really have enough time to talk to one another on Saturdays. The focus is on our tasks.”

“That’s a great plan! What kind of party are you thinking of? Something casual like a potluck?”

“I’ll ask my sister for suggestions. She’s the queen of organizing social events.”

After the waiter removed their plates, Nathan gestured to the dessert menu. “Want to share one?”

Although she wasn’t the least bit hungry anymore, Cooper didn’t want the evening to end. “You pick. I like all sweets.”

Nathan deliberated over his choices for several moments. “How about the apple split with maple ice cream and praline sauce?”

The dessert was smooth and rich and Cooper enjoyed every sugar-laden mouthful. Finally, their decaf coffees were drained, their table was cleared, and Nathan insisted on picking up the check. The noise level in the restaurant had dropped several decibels as though in tune with the deepening darkness beyond the front window.

“Guess we should roll ourselves into the night,” Nathan said and held Cooper’s chair for her as she rose.

Outside, he took her hand in his. “There’s something different about you tonight,” he said softly as they walked through the parking lot. “You have a glow about you. I’ve always thought you were the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, but tonight, you’re radiant.”

Cooper blushed and wondered if Nathan had noticed her fuller cleavage. Cooper had chosen a simple black dress, sandals with a small, square heel, and Grammy’s butterfly pin. And though there was nothing fancy about what she wore, Cooper felt beautiful and confident. It had been a long time since she’d felt this way and she knew it came from being around Nathan. More than ever, she was determined to claim this wonderful man.

Fortunately, Nathan seemed eager to be claimed. When they reached her car, his hand suddenly grew tighter around her own. “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered.

Cooper moved closer to him. His arms closed around her and he pulled her even closer, and then pressed his lips against hers. Their kiss was tender, but as they held each other, the kisses became longer, greedier. Cooper buried her hands in Nathan’s thick hair and his lips began to travel down the side of her neck.

“Get a room!” someone yelled from the sidewalk and Cooper sprang away from Nathan, her face flushed with heat. When she realized that the voice belonged to a teenage boy riding a skateboard, she began to laugh.

“I felt younger than those kids just now,” she said as Nathan’s laughter mingled with hers.

“Why don’t you leave your truck here?” he asked, tracing her cheek with his fingertip. “I can always bring you back . . .” He trailed off and began to fidget with his keys.

Suddenly, a four-legged shape with a long tail darted in front of Nathan. The animal tried to scamper up the nearest tree, but it couldn’t grab the bark and slid down to the bottom. Blinking at them with frightened yellow eyes, a black kitten mewled and then wriggled its way into an overturned cardboard box.

Acting on instinct, Cooper followed the kitten. She knelt on the ground and peered inside the recesses of the damp box. Two pairs of wide yellow eyes stared back at her.

“Nathan? Will you get the cat carrier from my truck?” Cooper held out her keys.

Nathan returned a minute later with the carrier. “Do you always carry this around with you?” He stooped down next to her, breathing hard.

“No,” Cooper whispered. “My grammy said I’d need it, and she was right.” She opened the carrier and noted that Grammy had lined the bottom with newspaper. “Can you hold this open and be ready to close it quickly? These kittens will probably freak out when I touch them, so I’m going to try to move as fast as I can.”

As she took hold of the first kitten by the scruff of its neck, the second kitten tried to shoot past her. Using her free hand, Cooper grabbed it before it could escape. Just as she was about to lift them into the carrier, a man walking an enormous dog passed within a few feet. The dog spied the kittens, began to bark, and stretched his retractable leash to the limit. The kittens squirmed in Cooper’s hands and she curled them into her chest to keep them from running off in a panic. They writhed and bucked in her hands, their claws raking the fabric of her dress. Finally, the dog’s owner dragged his canine away and Cooper was able to push the kittens safely into the carrier.

Nathan closed the door and then they both sat back on their heels, listening to the agitated meowing of the captured kittens.

“Are you okay?” Nathan asked.

Cooper examined the scratches on her forearms and shrugged. “Yeah, thanks.”

Nathan glanced at her chest and then raised his brows in surprise and confusion. Cooper looked down at her dress and gasped in horror.

The contents of her water bra, which contained forty-five percent water and fifty-five percent body oil, was staining her dress with twin puddles of slimy liquid.

“Cooper,” Nathan said, averting his eyes. “I think you’re leaking.”

7

When Cooper opened her work locker the following Tuesday, she was surprised to see a gift-wrapped box inside. She picked up the package, taking note of the leopard-print tissue paper, the clumsy wrapping job, and the handwritten note reading: For Cooper, my wildflower.

She stared at the unfamiliar handwriting, heat prickling her neck, and then hesitantly tore the tissue paper. Examining the cellophane-covered fuchsia box, which contained a fluid ounce of Wild Orchid Musk Perfume, Cooper frowned. She couldn’t imagine who would have left her a gift.

“What ya got there?” Ben asked as he hung his jacket in his locker.

Startled, Cooper attempted to shove the perfume out of sight, but Ben saw it all the same.

“Never saw you as the Wild Orchid type,” he teased.

Cooper reddened. “I’m not.”

“Never thought of you as the perfume type at all,” Ben added with a smirk.

“You wear a lot of cologne for a gym addict,” she retorted. “Maybe you should try showering more often.”

Ben’s eyes grew dark with anger and Cooper immediately regretted her choice of words.

“I am not an addict!” he snarled.

“I’m really sorry.” Cooper did her best to show that her apology was sincere.

Ben slammed his locker shut. “You have no idea what an addiction is until it tears your whole life apart! I go to the gym to get away from it!”

“Oh, Ben. How awful.” Cooper grabbed his arm. “I was hoping things were better for you at home.”

Inhaling deeply, Ben looked at the floor. “They are. We’re working on it.” He ran his hands through his unruly hair. “It’s a process, though, and not an easy one. I was stupid to think we could just talk to some folks and she’d be done with booze forever, but it’s not that simple.”

“I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through, but if you ever want to talk about it, we could grab coffee sometime,” Cooper said and touched him gently on the arm.

“Thanks, but I’d rather have you on standby, if that’s okay.” Ben smiled ruefully. “Work is the only norm in my crazy life, so I’d prefer not to talk about what’s going on at home when I’m here. Is that cool?”

“It’s cool.” Cooper collected her toolbox, wished Ben a pleasant day, and then stopped by Angela’s desk for her work order before heading out to her first assignment at Wachovia Bank.

Angela was scowling as she reviewed the paperwork Ben had submitted for a completed job. “Even when that man is here, he’s not totally here,” she complained. “He’s called out three times in four weeks. He comes in late, leaves as early as he can, and goes to jobs without the right parts more than I’d care to mention. I can’t imagine what’s going on in that boy’s mind!”

Cooper stared out the front door as Ben drove by in a Make It Work! van. “We can never tell what’s happening in people’s lives, can we?” she said. “Ben only talks about this job and the gym, so those are the only things we really know about him.”

“Well, I can tell you a thing or two, such as who wears the pants at his house. I’ve heard plenty in the background when he’s called in sick,” Angela said, acting put out. “His wife’s got a set of lungs on her, I can assure you of that.”

Disconcerted by Angela’s comment, Cooper shoved aside an image of Ben’s wife as a screaming harpy. Opening her toolbox, she showed her friend the bottle of Wild Orchid. “What do you think of this perfume?”

Angela’s crimson lips curled in distaste. “If you wanna smell like flowers and kerosene, that’ll do the job. That’s the problem with drugstore perfumes.” She took the box from Cooper. “Since you haven’t opened it yet, why not run back to CVS and get your money back?”

“Maybe I will.” Cooper placed the perfume back into her toolbox.

Angela held out her wrist. “Smell this scent. I usually wear warm vanilla sugar because Mr. Farmer has a sweet tooth, but lately I’ve taken to wearin’ wild honeysuckle instead.”

“Why?”

“Because Emilio says he likes his girls a bit unpredictable. If I want to catch his attention, I have to prove that I have a wild side.”

Cooper looked at a pile of work orders on the far side of Angela’s desk. “Is that Emilio’s handwriting?” she asked.

Angela grabbed the top sheet from her metal tray and traced the letters of Emilio’s name. “His signature’s so manly, isn’t it?”

Feeling slightly nauseated, Cooper nodded. The handwriting on the work order matched the scrawl on her gift tag. Why had Emilio given her a bottle of perfume? What message was he trying to relay?

“Yes, indeed. Every single thing about Emilio is manly. I bet every inch of him is red-blooded American male.” Angela uttered a sigh of longing.

It was then that Cooper became aware of the presence of their boss.

Mr. Farmer stood in the hallway behind Angela’s desk as if he’d been struck by a heavy implement and was too dazed to move. Angela, who couldn’t see him until he rounded the hallway’s corner, prattled on about Emilio’s physical attributes. In vain, Cooper tried to interrupt her, but it was too late.

With a bowed head and a slump to his shoulders, Mr. Farmer shuffled silently back to his office.

• • •

“Penny has pink eye,” Lali informed the Saturday volunteers as they packed the black Door-2-Door Dinners coolers for the day’s delivery. “Can anyone help with her route? It’s only five stops, so one person can do it alone.”

Nathan raised his arm. “I’ll take it!” he shouted and Cooper smiled at him in admiration. His selflessness made Cooper want to step out of her own comfort zone. “I’ll help you with your route,” she told Brenda. Nathan had been her partner last Saturday, so unless Cooper volunteered, Brenda would be on her own.

“Thank you, sweetie!” Brenda’s voice boomed. “And here I thought you was scared, but there ain’t nothin’ to worry about from these folks, darlin’. Our toughest challenge is Mr. Crosby, but since you ain’t wearin’ yellow, we’ll be just fine.”

“Yellow?”

“Yes, ma’am. The color yellow.” Brenda nodded seriously. “Frank can’t stand it. The boy will go out of his head if he sees so much as a yellow polka dot. We can’t serve him yellow squash or corn or anything butter-colored. Sweet potatoes is as yellow as we dare go.”

Cooper swallowed. Volunteering for the route didn’t seem like such a good idea at the moment. “Why does he hate yellow so much?”

Brenda hefted one of the coolers onto a rolling cart. “No one knows, honey. Mr. Crosby ain’t a big talker, either, so don’t expect him to explain himself to you. He gets confused too. Half the time we visit, he answers the front door wearin’ his underwear. And the underwear’s usually on backward.” She giggled again.

“What does he wear the other half of the time?” Cooper asked fearfully.

“Just his birthday suit!” Brenda roared with laughter. “Come on, baby! It ain’t a pretty sight, but it won’t kill you. Now, help me roll this cart on outside.”

Gulping, Cooper pushed the cart down the ramp. “Which stop is Mr. Crosby’s?”

Brenda halted in front of a dark blue Cadillac peppered with dings and scratches. “We save the best for last, sugar. Figure it gives him all morning to find a pair of tighty-whities.” She flashed an impish grin at Cooper.

Lord, give me strength, Cooper prayed as she climbed into Brenda’s car.

Brenda rolled down the windows, cranked up the radio, and began to bob her head from side to side as she belted out hip-hop lyrics.

“Hope you don’t mind if I smoke!” she shouted as they paused at a four-way stop. Before Cooper had a chance to respond, Brenda popped the fat stump of a partially smoked cigar into her mouth, ignited the end with her car’s lighter, and then shoved the gas pedal to the floor. Blue smoke billowed out from the muffler as the Caddy shot through the intersection.

Brenda shot past Richmond’s minor-league baseball stadium while Cooper clung to the door handle. “Where are we going?”

“First stop is Highland Park,” Brenda said. “Bet you don’t get over to this part of town much, do you?”

Cooper shook her head. There weren’t many office buildings where they were headed.

After passing by a dozen run-down houses, Brenda parked in front of a tiny bungalow with a cracked cement path and chipping paint. Brenda let Cooper take the weekend food box while she carried the black cooler.

At the front door, Brenda pounded on the metal security bars and hollered, “Mrs. Donaldson! It’s Door-2-Door! We brought your lunch!”

Brenda lowered the cooler to the porch and frowned at the piles of brown leaves and coupons scattered around the frayed welcome mat.

“How often is a client’s yard or house cleaned?” Cooper asked softly.

Kicking a crooked stick away from the threshold, Brenda clucked her tongue. “Not often enough, honey. Folks only have so much time to give.”

As the two women gazed at the layer of flaking paint over the wood siding, the door opened several inches and the wizened visage of Mrs. Donaldson peered at them from behind smudged glass.

“I’m Brenda!” Brenda held up the cooler for the client to see. “And this is Cooper. She’s got your weekend box, ma’am.”

Wordlessly, the old woman unlocked a bolt, removed the chain with shaky, age-spotted hands, and then backed away from the door. Brenda opened it slowly and gestured for Cooper to go in ahead of her.

The home was so dark that Cooper could barely tell which way to turn, so she simply scooted to the right and allowed Brenda to enter and take charge.

“You watchin’ I Love Lucy?” Brenda cackled. “Lord, that is one funny redhead. I always liked Fred the best, myself. Now, let’s get your lunch heated.” Brenda prattled on while Mrs. Donaldson shuffled behind her, mumbling something unintelligible. Cooper admired Brenda’s calm, noting that her mentor acted as though she was an old friend of Mrs. Donaldson and had just dropped by to say a quick hello.

In the dingy kitchen, Cooper couldn’t help but notice the stained and cracked linoleum, the peeling wallpaper of white daisies on a field of blue, or the threadbare curtain covering the tiny window above the rust-rimmed sink. The refrigerator made churning noises as though it had been worked beyond its abilities and the stovetop was covered with a pile of dishes crusted with old food. Several flies buzzed around the fractured ceiling light.

Cooper glanced from the flies to the dishes to Mrs. Donaldson’s lined and weary face. “Brenda? Do we have time for me to clean those dishes?” she whispered.

Brenda swiveled her massive head around toward the stove. “Ew!” she squealed and then wagged a finger at the old woman standing meekly beside her. “You need to let those soak in the sink, ma’am, if you don’t feel like cleanin’ them. You gonna get bugs! Now come sit down in front of the TV and eat. We’ll tidy up for you real quick before we go.”

While Brenda served their client, Cooper began scrubbing at the dishes with a tattered sponge that disintegrated piece by piece as the friction of Cooper’s efforts wore it to a nub. Using her fingernails instead, Cooper chipped at the food under scalding water. Her hands quickly became red and raw, but she paid no heed to her discomfort.

“We ain’t really got time for this, sugar,” Brenda scolded when she returned to the kitchen, but she rubbed vigorously at several dishes with Mrs. Donaldson’s only dish towel until the chipped plates gleamed in the weak light.

After the dishes were laid out on the countertop to dry, Brenda asked Mrs. Donaldson if she needed anything else. The old woman looked up at her from her faded green recliner and shook her head, as if she knew she’d already received all she could expect from the pair of women standing before her.

“All right, then. Don’t forget to lock up after us, ya hear?” Brenda smiled and suddenly they were back in the car, heading for the next stop. “You okay over there?” she asked Cooper as she gunned the Caddy’s engine beneath a traffic light that had just changed from yellow to red. “You’re awful quiet.”

“I’m fine,” Cooper mumbled, unable to keep from dwelling on the state of the old woman’s house.

“I know what your mind’s fixin’ on, but that’s what poor looks like, honey,” Brenda said cheerfully. “Most of our clients are scrapin’ by on ten grand a year. Now, we’ve got some like this next lady in Ginter Park, who pays for meals because she don’t wanna cook no more and she ain’t got anybody to cook for her. They’re not all poor, but at least half of them are livin’ just like Mrs. Donaldson. Some worse.”

Cooper followed Brenda into four more houses. After Mrs. Donaldson, they made a delivery to Mrs. Gates. Mrs. Gates had a tidy, light-filled home right near the park and hobbled to her front door using a walker. She barked orders at them the entire time and seemed keenly disappointed when they had to leave. “But aren’t you going to water my plants?” she called after them as they trotted back to Brenda’s car.

Next, they visited a brother and sister living in a small home a few blocks away from Mrs. Gates, and after that they delivered to a Mr. Sears, who was partially deaf and smelled like he was in desperate need of a bath. Even though they still had one stop to go, Cooper felt totally spent.

“Don’t forget the famous Mr. Crosby!” Brenda chirped. “Wonder what he’ll be wearin’ today?” She wiggled her black eyebrows suggestively.

Mr. Crosby’s house wasn’t much larger than Mrs. Donaldson’s. Like hers, Mr. Crosby’s home had been painted white many years ago. By now it had lost at least half of its outer layer of paint and was stained with mold. A chain-link fence surrounded the property and patches of parched grass intermingled with loose dirt served as the front lawn. The house had two windows flanked by blue shutters so shrouded in cobwebs that they blended into the rest of the house.

“A little early for Halloween, eh?” Brenda giggled and removed the mail from Mr. Crosby’s mailbox. She jabbed at the illuminated doorbell with a plum-colored nail and then shouted, “It’s Door-2-Door, so you’d best be puttin’ on some clothes, Mr. Crosby!”

Cooper picked up a newspaper from the top step and waited for Mr. Crosby to appear.

No one answered the bell. Brenda rang again and then asked Cooper to peer in the front window. “You see him?” she asked, and Cooper shook her head.

“Damn,” Brenda muttered. “We’re supposed to call Lali when nobody answers, but Mr. Crosby does this from time to time. I’m gonna go in. You can stay out here if you want.”

Without waiting for Cooper to reply, Brenda pushed Mr. Crosby’s door open and then gasped. “Sweet Jesus!” she cried and then lunged, her arms outstretched, toward a shriveled old man sitting upright and immobile in a brown leather chair. She pressed her fingertips against his throat and exhaled in relief. “He’s alive. He’s got a pulse and he’s breathin’.” She took a step back and examined Mr. Crosby with her eyes.

“Could he be asleep?” Cooper asked as she watched the rise and fall of the man’s bare chest. Mr. Crosby wore a filthy red-and-white-striped robe, a pair of ratty underwear, and black ankle socks riddled with holes. She detected the scent of urine rising from the chair.

“Looks more like a skinny bear hybernatin’ than an old man takin’ a nap.” Brenda was still panting with fright. After fanning her dewy face for a moment, she prodded Mr. Crosby’s arm with her hand and spoke his name loudly into his right ear. “Go wet a cloth in the kitchen, Cooper. We may need to shock him outta this daze.”

Cooper hustled into the kitchen, which bore a sad resemblance to Mrs. Donaldson’s. Seeing no paper towels or wash rags in sight, she filled half of a plastic tumbler with water and brought it back to the front room. Brenda eyed the glass, shrugged, and then splattered the contents into Mr. Crosby’s face. He jerked awake with a start, but only opened his eyes for a second before squeezing them shut again. It was as if the dim light was too bright and he couldn’t bear to look at it.

“He was yellow,” he muttered. “Didn’t deserve no honor. Yellow, yellow, yellow.” Mr. Crosby’s head swiveled from side to side in agitation. He gripped the arms of his chair until the blue veins on his hands seemed to swell like a flooded river. “You can’t have it. It’s our secret! He was yellow, but it’s our secret!”

“Mr. Crosby,” Brenda said his name firmly in an attempt to fully wake him.

“It’s our secret.” He moved his head faster now, whipping it from side to side in a frenzy. “Yellow, yellow, YELLOW!”

Brenda leaned over the old man’s thin frame. “Mr. Crosby!”

“Whatdoyawant!” he shouted in return and opened his eyes wide. His gaze focused on the Door-2-Door sticker over Brenda’s large left breast and recognition washed over his pallid features, replaced almost instantly by irritation.

“Did you spill somethin’ on me?” he demanded angrily. Brenda stood up, squared her shoulders, put her hands on her expansive hips, and pursed her lips. “You looked like you was a goner for a minute, but we fixed you up all right. Now, how about some lunch?”

That perked him up. “Yeah, I’m starvin’. Feel like I haven’t eaten for a week. But there’d better be no corn in there. Somebody brought me corn in July.” Mr. Crosby craned his neck in order to peek into the black cooler.

“There’s nothing yellow on your tray,” Brenda assured him calmly. “Now, are you feelin’ okay or should I call somebody?”

Mr. Crosby looked confused. “What day is it?”

Brenda and Cooper exchanged nervous glances. “Saturday, sir,” Cooper replied and handed Mr. Crosby the newspaper she’d removed from the front stoop. He anxiously turned the pages until he had reached the section containing the comics and crossword puzzle.

“Blank,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Last thing I remember, I was sittin’ here doin’ the puzzle. Now you’re tellin’ me it’s a day later?”

“What time do you usually do the crossword?” Cooper asked and pushed a folding tray table closer to him.

Mr. Crosby scrutinized her carefully, as if searching for any hint of the dreaded color yellow. Satisfied that she wasn’t wearing any, he accepted a fork from Brenda and began to shovel mashed potatoes into his mouth. “I only get the paper when the neighbor lady is done with it,” he told Cooper after several greedy swallows. “She’s got a son who buys her stuff. Guess she feels sorry for me with my boy bein’ in jail and all.”

He stabbed a green gelatin square and pushed it into his mouth. “She spends most of the mornin’ drinkin’ that fancy coffee that comes outta a bag. Wish I had some coffee,” he grumbled crossly. “I don’t get the paper ’til she’s done, but at least she never does the puzzles.”

Cooper stared at Friday’s newspaper, which had fallen from Mr. Crosby’s lap and landed in a loose pile next to his chair. “So you were probably working the puzzle about this time of the morning?”

Mr. Crosby paused in order to sip some iced tea. “Yeah. I was waitin’ on you folks. That’s the last thing I recall. I was waitin’ for my lunch. Next thing I know I wake up to find it’s a whole different day.” Suddenly, he shoved the tray away from him. “And I gotta go!”

Brenda helped the old man stand. As he hastened away with an awkward, shuffling gait, Brenda winced. “I think he’s gone in that chair already. Good thing this cushion’s covered with plastic.” She sighed. “I’m gonna see if there’s any cleanin’ supplies in that sorry mess of a kitchen.”

After Brenda left, Cooper examined a black-and-white photograph of a young man standing in front of the barracks at Virginia Military Institute’s campus. She was so absorbed by the image of the handsome soldier that she didn’t hear Mr. Crosby reenter the room.

“It’s gone!” he wailed and Cooper spun around to see that his wrinkled face was streaked with tears. “Gone, I tell you!”

Cooper took his arm and led him to an upholstered wing chair. He sank down into the floral material and covered his face with his hands. He made pitiable sounds that sounded like a mewling cat.

“What’s gone, Mr. Crosby?” Cooper prodded gently. “Is something missing from your house?”

“Now everyone will know,” Mr. Crosby moaned. “Yellow, yellow, YELLOW! Someone stole our secret. Someone was in my bedroom. I can tell.” The hands covering his face quivered and he began to weep. His shoulders shook and he whimpered, “It’s gone. It’s gone,” over and over.

Eventually, he fell silent and no matter what questions Brenda or Cooper asked, he wouldn’t speak another word. Brenda wiped off Mr. Crosby’s plastic-covered leather chair, put him in a clean T-shirt, and washed his face as tenderly as a mother would clean her own child’s. All the while, Mr. Crosby gazed unseeing at a football game on the television screen.

Back in the Caddy, Brenda was clearly worried. “I’ve never seen him like that. He hasn’t got any memory problems—somethin’ must have happened to him yesterday.”

“And I’m going to try to find out what,” Cooper declared angrily. “I don’t think he just lost track of time, Brenda. He seemed too lethargic and too confused to have just been taking a long nap. And now he believes something’s missing. Something that’s obviously very important to him. I overheard Lali say that items were stolen from several of our clients’ homes this summer. It looks like the thefts are still going on.”

Brenda stared at Cooper in shock, even though the traffic light had turned green. When the car behind them laid on the horn, Brenda waved at them and managed to drive on. “You mean to tell me that the thief is one of us? A volunteer is messin’ with these folks?”

Cooper nodded. “It looks that way, yes.”

“Lord in heaven! What is this world comin’ to?” Her lips pinched in fury, Brenda gunned the engine. “If there’s somethin’ I can do to help, you just name it. I’m not gonna stand for folks givin’ our program a bad name. I’m mild as a kitten most days, but I got claws and a big strong body, and I’ll use them both if I find out that someone I know is dopin’ up old folks just so’s they can rob them blind.”

“Doping them?” Cooper repeated. “That would explain why Mr. Crosby lost a day. But how would someone drug the clients?”

Brenda clucked her tongue. “Are you listenin’ to yourself, girl? We’re the ones packin’ and bringin’ them their food. Now, I ain’t no rocket scientist, but I can put two and two together and figure out how easy it would be to stir a little somethin’ into the mashed potatoes.”

Cooper nodded. As horrible as the idea was, it made sense. “I need to figure out what that something is, but my experience with drugs doesn’t go much beyond Tylenol and Robitussin.”

“Go see Mr. Crosby’s son, then,” Brenda suggested as she merged into the next lane without using her signal. “That’s why the boy’s in jail. Probably knows more about drugs than anybody in Richmond. Just wasn’t smart enough to figure out he was sellin’ heroin to an undercover cop.”

“Jail?” Cooper swallowed hard. She tried to envision herself sitting across from a convicted drug dealer in an attempt to elicit information from him.

“But if you’re gonna go, you’d better take somebody along for the ride,” Brenda advised. “And you’d better pick wisely. Those prison boys don’t see many women and the Crosby boy might wanna talk to you about things you don’t wanna talk about. You hear what I’m sayin’? Take someone with you.”

“I hear you,” Cooper said.

Glancing out the window, she watched house after house pass by and thought, Do I really have it in me to sit across from a man in an orange jumpsuit?

As they drove on, Cooper no longer noticed the scenery. Her mind was filled with Mr. Crosby’s anguished face. And when Brenda switched on the radio, Cooper didn’t pay attention to the music. She could only hear an old man weeping as if his heart had just been broken.

8

Brenda dropped Cooper off at Door-2-Door’s side entrance and then sped away to attend a fall festival at her church. After replacing the black cooler beneath one of the lengthy stainless steel counters in the kitchen, Cooper located her friends. All six of them were contentedly snacking on ham and cheese biscuits and cookies in the volunteer lounge.

“How’d it go?” Jake asked. “You look a bit green around the gills.”

“Not green. Pink.” Trish eyed Cooper’s flushed neck and handed her a cup of water. “Maybe you’re dehydrated. You got back later than everyone else, too. Did you and Brenda have a really long route?”

Cooper accepted the water and looked around the lounge. The other volunteers had left for the day with the exception of Eugene. He was sprawled out on two folding chairs in the back of the room munching on a biscuit. An empty chair in the adjacent row served as a table for his can of Pepsi and a paper napkin piled high with chocolate-chip cookies. A comic book was open on his lap and the young man laughed heartily as he ate and read.

“I think one of the clients on my route was drugged,” Cooper said in a low voice. “A man named Mr. Crosby.”

“I’ve heard about him,” Trish said dismissively. “Isn’t he a little batty?”

“Maybe a little bit,” Cooper had to admit. “But I’m not talking about how he acted. When we first saw him, we actually thought he was dead. He’d been sitting in the same chair for twenty-four hours and he was still sitting there when Brenda and I entered his house. The poor man has no memory of what happened to him.”

Quinton helped himself to a handful of cookies and offered one to Cooper. “Lots of older folks have memory issues. Mr. Crosby probably just forgot to go to bed and fell asleep in his chair. Why do you think he was drugged?”

Cooper lowered her voice to a whisper even though Eugene was clearly absorbed in his comics. “You think it’s normal for someone to sleep for twenty-four hours? No.” She shook her head. “Not only that, but he was really upset about something that was taken from his house. I don’t know what it was and he wasn’t really making sense by the end of our visit. He kept repeating how his secret had been stolen.”

Holding up a finger to stop Trish from interrupting, Cooper continued, “It’s clear that Mr. Crosby is wired differently than the rest of us, but he was thinking straight enough to be bothered that he had lost a whole day and that someone took an object from his bedroom.” She broke her cookie in half and stared at the crumbs on her lap. “Brenda’s delivered to this man before and she says he’s never had problems with his memory. And I’m no doctor, but Mr. Crosby just acted, you know, doped.”

“I trust your instincts,” Nathan said loyally. “How did Brenda react?”

“She was amazing,” Cooper replied. “She revived Mr. Crosby by tossing water in his face, changed his clothes, got his lunch ready, and tidied up the house within fifteen minutes. Thank the Lord she was there.”

“I’m glad you weren’t alone,” Savannah said.

“Brenda’s the one who suggested Mr. Crosby had been drugged. She was fighting mad about the notion,” Cooper added.

“So Brenda’s probably innocent, unless she’s a great actor,” Bryant said.

“I think we need to have a chat with Lali.” Jake folded his strong arms over his chest. “We need to have all the facts if we’re going to be of any help to these folks.” He tossed a napkin into a garbage can several feet away. “Time to storm the castle, folks. Who’s with me?”

• • •

When Anita heard about the impromptu meeting between Lali and the Sunrise Bible Study members, she insisted on being included. Cooper began by telling Lali about her delivery to Mr. Crosby and her concern that his physical condition was related to the thefts, and possibly the deaths, that had occurred with other Door-2-Door clients over the past few months. Of course, she also had to confess that she had inadvertently eavesdropped on two of Lali’s conversations.

“I’m not concerned that you overheard us talking about the thefts,” Lali said, letting Cooper off the hook gracefully. “I’m concerned about Mr. Crosby. You say that the last thing he remembers is being visited by one of our volunteers?” Lali’s dark eyes were liquid with worry.

“He remembers working a crossword in the newspaper while waiting for his lunch to be delivered,” Cooper replied. “He doesn’t actually recall eating lunch, but an empty tray was in his garbage can.”

“Maybe we should get a hold of that tray,” Savannah suggested. “If something was mixed in his food . . .”

“I just can’t believe it!” Lali exclaimed. She then smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt, as though gathering strength to face the truth. “Okay. This is what’s going to happen. Anita and I will contact one of our nurse practitioner volunteers and the three of us will visit Mr. Crosby this afternoon. If the medical professional believes Mr. Crosby was drugged, my next step will be to contact the police. I’m sure they’ll know how to proceed.”

Jake, who restlessly drummed his fingers on the conference table, suddenly shoved his wheeled chair backward. “This whole thing should be easy enough to deal with, ladies. Just find out who delivered Mr. Crosby’s food yesterday and you’ve got your man.”

Lali shook her head. “We can’t accuse one of the volunteers without proof. Besides,” her voice grew heavy, “the volunteer sign-up sheet from yesterday is gone. Someone took it or threw it away.” She was clearly disturbed about the missing document. “The bottom line is that it never got filed, so short of asking everyone who volunteers here, I have no record of who drove where.” She sighed. “The Saturday crew is fairly regular, but the weekday volunteers change all the time.”

“That’s the truth,” Anita said. “We’d be on the phone all day asking folks, and if someone was guilty, they wouldn’t tell us the truth anyhow.”

“All I can do is review every detail with the police and allow them to conduct their investigation as they see fit. I’m sorry you’ve all been exposed to this.” She gestured at a handful of manila folders.

Anita rose and placed a protective hand on Lali’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming to talk to us, but please don’t repeat details about the missing items or Mr. Crosby’s state of health to anyone. All of our clients will suffer if we lose volunteers or if funding dries up because of harmful gossip. We hope to see you again next weekend.”

Her tone made it clear that the meeting was over, but as soon as the group stepped outside, Trish gestured for everyone to gather around her car.

“We’re not going to spread rumors about what’s happening here, but I don’t think we should just drop the subject, either,” she said.

“Let’s give the police the benefit of the doubt,” Savannah countered gently. “If there’s evidence of misconduct, they’ll find it.”

“And if Lali still thinks the clients might be at risk, we could implement Plan B,” Nathan suggested.

“What’s that?” Jake asked.

“We could host a potluck,” Cooper said. “A casual party would allow us to get to know the volunteers working on Fridays and Saturdays better.”

“Excellent idea! I’ll call around and see where we can rent a space for our social event,” Trish offered. “Just in case we need to throw this thing together at the last minute, I’m thinking one of the community centers would do nicely. After all”—she grimaced—“I don’t want a thief and potential murderer running around inside my house. See you in church tomorrow.”

As the friends dispersed, Nathan walked Cooper to her truck and opened her door with a smile. “So how are those kittens we saved?”

“Grammy found homes for them right away.” Cooper avoided meeting his eyes, still terribly embarrassed over how their date had ended. “A little girl down the road had to put her cat to sleep last month and she was feeling sad and lonely, so the timing couldn’t have been better. Of course, I don’t know if the cats are going to be happy about being called Princess Furrball and Prince Fuzzypants.”

Nathan laughed. “You’re always full of surprises! I’ll see you in the morning.”

Cooper waved good-bye and then drove home in a funk. She knew Nathan was busy preparing the Big Man site for its upcoming launch, but she’d wanted to exchange a tender moment with him, no matter how brief. She didn’t want to go back to being friends. She wanted him to look at her as he had before they’d been interrupted by the appearance of the stray cats.

Guess this gives me time to buy another bra, Cooper thought wryly. And this time, I’m getting the plain cotton kind from Target. I can live without enhancing my curves if it means I won’t end up with a soaked dress and the world’s worst ending to what had been the perfect date.

• • •

“So how’d your date go?” Ashley whispered as she and Cooper set the table for Sunday supper.

“Fine,” Cooper mumbled and then gestured toward the hall. “Can we not talk about that right now?”

“Talk about what?” Grammy demanded as she shuffled into the kitchen. “Somethin’ juicy?” She pointed at Ashley’s flat stomach. “Like baby-makin’? You’re not on one of those crazy diets again, are you? A woman can’t fill her womb eatin’ celery and rice cakes. Trust me on that one.”

Ashley developed a sudden interest in folding the paper napkins into fan designs.

“I bet you’re readin’ too many books.” Grammy sank into a chair and immediately unfolded the napkin fan. “You can’t be scientific about this kind of thing. Say a prayer, pour yourselves some wine, and celebrate bein’ young and in love. That’s how you make a baby. It’s right simple.”

“It’s supposed to take couples an average of six months to conceive,” Ashley informed Grammy.

Grammy pointed at the wall calendar hanging near the kitchen phone. “Well, when did you start?”

Taking a hesitant step toward the calendar, which the Lees received every year at Christmastime from their State Farm agent, Ashley reached her hand toward the month of October and then froze. Bowing her head, she seemed to be fighting to gain control over her emotions, and when it seemed as though she was on the verge of tears, she pivoted and walked briskly through the kitchen and out the back door. She didn’t bother to close the door behind her and a crisp wind bearing the scent of burning leaves mingled with the aroma of the mustard-and-sage-covered ham baking in the oven.

“Grammy,” Cooper admonished as she held on to the open door. “Ease up on the baby stuff, okay? Nobody wants to have a child more than Ashley, and since she’s used to getting exactly what she wants, this wait is awful hard on her.”

Unperturbed, Grammy reached for the classified section of the Times-Dispatch. “I’m just tryin’ to shake somethin’ loose in that girl. She holds everythin’ inside. It ain’t good for her. Think about it, Granddaughter. When’s the last time you saw her cry or get mad or shout at anybody? I wanna peek under that mask of hers—see how she’s really doin’.”

“I’ll talk to her. I think that’s a better way of finding out what’s going on.” Cooper stared at her grandmother in hopes she would get the point.

“Suit yourself,” Grammy replied and then yelled, “Maggie! I think your ham’s about done!” She then hid herself behind the newspaper and didn’t so much as rustle a page until her elder grandchild stepped outside.

Saffron-edged leaves crunched beneath Cooper’s tennis shoes as she crossed the patio toward the cluster of spent rudbeckia bordering Earl’s vegetable garden. Ashley sat on a stone stool, examining one of the golden cone-shaped heads, her elegant fingers tracing the serrated edges of the leaves just below the crown of flower petals. When Cooper drew near, Ashley turned her face toward the woods, but not quickly enough to disguise the tears on her cheeks.

Saying nothing, Cooper squatted next to her sister and put an arm around her waist. They stayed like that for several minutes as a woodpecker hammered into the birch tree bordering the patio.

“Why does Grammy have to be so mean?” Ashley sniffed. “It’s bad enough that Lincoln and I have been trying to conceive for over a year and I didn’t even realize it until she made me look at that damned calendar.”

“Grammy just wants you to be happy,” Cooper said. When Ashley snorted in disbelief, she added, “I think she wants to see that our family’s growing. You know, that life is going to go on when she’s gone. The idea of us being settled is a comfort for her.”

“She still laying it on thick about catching Nathan?” Ashley asked as she swatted away a tear clinging to her jawline.

Cooper smiled. “Not any thicker than you do, Ashley.” She searched in the birch tree for the woodpecker and saw his gray-and-black-speckled body flitter around the upper part of the fraying trunk. “To answer your question from earlier, Nathan and I were having a great date until we found those two stray kittens Grammy gave away last week. They, ah, kind of interrupted us.”

Ashley gave her sister a curious stare. “Good thing you’re not superstitious. And what’s happened since then?”

Cooper shrugged. “Let’s grab Columbus and give him a chance to stretch his wings a bit while we’re talking.” She fetched the hawk from his cage and walked a safe distance from Ashley toward the split-rail fence. Columbus flapped his wings the entire way and Ashley eyed him warily.

“He won’t fly at you,” Cooper assured her sister. “He’s just excited to be out in the open.” She raised her arm and the hawk took off.

As Columbus alighted on a tree in the brilliant sunshine, Cooper leaned on the fence rail and sighed. “Maybe Nathan and I aren’t meant to be together. We just can’t seem to connect for more than a few minutes at a time. I didn’t think falling for someone again after Drew would be such hard work.”

Ashley shielded her eyes from the glare as Columbus circled about the field of dry grass.

“Work. Funny you should use that word. That’s what Lincoln told me the other night—that I’ve turned our time together into work.” Tears pooled in her eyes again. “He says that he’s got two jobs now. One running his daddy’s dealerships and the other . . .” She trailed off. “Is making me a baby. He doesn’t say us, Cooper. As if it’s all about me!”

Cooper touched her sister’s corona of sunlit hair, which shone like warm honey beneath the open sky. “I’m sorry, Ashley.”

“I need this baby, Coop. Lincoln’s hardly ever home. When he’s not working, he’s out golfing with the guys. What about me? I’m sick of shopping and I’ve had every spa treatment this city has to offer. I want more out of life.” She snatched a twig from the ground and began snapping it to pieces. “For years, I’ve done all kinds of charitable work. Habitat for Humanity, United Way, American Cancer Society, American Heart Association, the Children’s Hospital, every animal shelter within three counties, a trillion museums, and what for?” Anger appeared in the clench of her jaw. “I just want this one thing.”

Cooper was silent for a moment. With extreme gentleness she said, “I don’t think it works that way, Ashley. You can’t earn yourself a baby.”

Her sister sighed. “I know, but it’s how I feel sometimes. Other people get pregnant when they don’t even want to be pregnant. I want a child more than anything and can give a baby such a good life, so how does that make sense?” She picked at a piece of loose pine on the fence rail. “My church friends tell me that God has a plan, or that this might be a test of my faith, or that I should be patient. Well, I think a year’s long enough to wait, unless this is a test I’m just plain going to fail.”

At that moment, partway across the vast field, Columbus cried out in frustration. He swooped just above the tall grass and rose slowly toward the horizon, his talons bare.

“He almost had something,” Cooper murmured. “It must have slipped away.”

“That’s how I feel about time,” Ashley said sadly. “It’s just slipping past and I can’t hold on to it.”

Cooper rubbed her sister’s back as the breeze made waves in the sea of grass before them. Together, they leaned against the fence, each lost in unhappy thoughts as Columbus attempted another unsuccessful dive. Finally, Maggie called them in for supper.

Ashley brushed a few seeds and nettles from her cashmere sweater and pleated skirt. Drawing in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and gave a little toss to her head, as if she were shaking off the emotion she’d revealed only moments ago.

Cooper stretched her forearm into the air, signaling Columbus to return. He landed in a flutter of creamy white and walnut feathers, blinking rapidly. He was still frustrated by his failed hunt. Cooper soothed the bird with her free hand as she and Ashley made their way back to the house. Cooper returned the raptor to his aviary and hung the thick glove on a hook fastened to the side of his cage. “It’ll be okay, Ashley,” she said before reentering the kitchen. “Things will work out.”

“They’d better,” Ashley said with a frown. “Or I’m going to demand my money back from that fortune-teller at the state fair.”

Cooper laughed. “How on earth would you find her again?”

Ashley tapped her temple. “Even I could track down someone named Madame Zoofu. Now, let’s get our dinner over with so we can have dessert. Daddy said Mama made apple crisp tartlets with hard sauce—my favorite fall treat! She must’ve known I needed some extra TLC today.”

“That’s because she’s a mother,” Cooper said. “You’ll have those kinds of instinct about your own child one day, Ashley. And I hope you have a boy. We have too much estrogen in this family as it is.”

Ashley shot a wary look in Grammy’s direction as she turned her wrinkled face toward the kitchen door.

“We have plenty of what?” Grammy demanded.

Before Cooper could answer, Ashley plopped down in her seat and chirped, “Spirit, Grammy! We’ve got lots of spirit!”

“Glad to hear it,” Grammy replied and then gestured at the ham. “Somebody cut me off a nice, thick piece. I got a new kind of denture cream and I plan to see if it’s as good as the commercial says. We should expect the best out of life, girls.” She eyed both of her granddaughters. “Sometimes you’ve got to believe that you deserve the riches of this world before they can be given to you. And I’m not talkin’ about money in the bank, but all things great and beautiful.” She reached across the table and grasped Ashley’s left hand. “I’m your grandmother and I’m tellin’ you, you deserve the beautiful things. A beautiful marriage and the beauty of motherhood.”

“Thanks, Grammy,” Ashley whispered, clearly moved by Grammy’s speech.

Grammy released Ashley’s hand and plopped her napkin on her lap. “Come on, let’s say grace so we can eat. Bow your heads, children. I know a short one.”

• • •

Wednesday morning at Make It Work!, Angela called Cooper on her cell phone and asked her to pick up the company’s lunch order from Casa Grande.

“I ordered you cheese enchiladas with refried beans and rice,” Angela said, sounding especially chipper. “I know what everybody’s favorites are, except for Emilio. He says he likes to try new things all the time. I can only imagine what he means by that.” She giggled.

“Is Mr. Farmer treating us again?” Cooper asked as she loaded her toolbox into the back of the van and closed the double doors.

“Yes, ma’am! That makes two times this week. He’s been mighty friendly to me, too. Brought me a pack of gum Monday, a candy bar yesterday, and this mornin’ he brought me a little pumpkin with a painted face. It’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”

Cooper climbed into the van’s high driver seat. “I guess you managed to make him jealous.”

“Reckon so.” Angela sounded smug.

“So what now?” Cooper tried to refrain from sounding judgmental. “You wanted Mr. Farmer to pay attention to you and he is. I don’t see him getting the rest of us little tokens of affection. Are you going to keep flirting with Emilio?”

“It depends where that gold Godiva box Emilio brought with him to work ends up. If I find it on my desk sometime today, then I’ll know he’s interested and hey, I might as well give him a try.” Angela sighed theatrically. “Maybe Mr. Farmer will finally realize that he shouldn’t have waited so long to decide that he wants to be with me.”

“How do you know Emilio has chocolates with him?” Cooper adjusted her phone headset as she turned onto Broad Street.

“Oh, I just happened to peek in his bag before he went out to empty the shredder boxes.”

“Angela!”

“I just wanted to see what cologne he wears,” Angela protested. “He always smells so good.”

Cooper pulled into a strip mall and found a space for the van at the far end of the parking lot. “I have to go. I’m at the restaurant.”

After collecting their order, she returned to the office and laid out the lunches in the break room. As she leaned over to place a pile of napkins on the far side of the table, Emilio entered the room and greeted her enthusiastically.

Cooper quickly swung around. “Oh, hi. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Can I help you set the table?” he offered gallantly. “Because there’s something I’d like to give you when you’re done.”

Pretending to be too busy arranging plastic cutlery to meet Emilio’s eyes, Cooper mumbled, “Oh, yeah?”

Emilio sidled closer. “Some chocolate-covered cherries. They smell sweet and melt in your mouth. And they’re the best, because some women deserve only the best.” His voice had turned low and husky.

Cooper could feel his breath on her cheek. She tried not to grimace as his musky cologne nearly overpowered her nostrils. “That’s really nice of you, Emilio,” she said, still refusing to look at him. “But you really shouldn’t get me anything. We’re just coworkers.”

Emilio placed his hands over his heart. “But we could be so much more.” He inched even closer. “Did you like that perfume I got you? Are you wearing it right now?”

Feeling trapped in the small kitchen, Cooper prayed for a way to escape Emilio’s hulking presence, but her well-built coworker kept pressing forward until she was backed up against the cabinets with no retreat in sight.

“Look.” Cooper held her hand out in front of her. “I’m kind of seeing someone, Emilio.”

“I heard about the guy, but if you were serious about him, you wouldn’t say ‘kind of.’ He must not be treating you like a queen, but I will. Go out with me this Friday and I’ll show you what it’s like to be with a man who really understands what a wildflower you are. What do you say, babe? I could give you a taste of what’s in store for you if you say yes.”

Horrified, Cooper realized that Emilio intended to kiss her. Spurred by panic, she ducked under his arm and popped up behind his back, twitching like a hunted rabbit. At that moment, Angela and Ben stepped into the room. Angela was in the middle of nagging Ben for the lapses in his paperwork while he rolled his eyes in exaggerated annoyance.

“I’m starvin’!” Angela declared once she had finished with Ben and sat down, unaware of the charged air within the room.

Ben seemed to sense that something was amiss, for he threw a questioning gaze at Cooper before dumping a mound of tortilla chips on the lid of his takeout container. “Is there any salsa?” He searched inside one of the paper bags sitting in the center of the table. Cooper rushed to her seat—eager to create more distance between herself and Emilio—and handed a salsa container to Ben.

“You’re going to need an extra workout after that lunch,” Angela said, pointing at Ben’s loaded plate with her fork.

“This is the only decent meal I eat,” Ben mumbled as Emilio sat down next to Cooper.

“Doesn’t your wife cook?” Emilio asked. “I will never marry a woman who doesn’t know her way around a kitchen.”

Ben glared at Emilio. “Let’s just say my wife’s not feeling up to cooking these days.”

“Men are perfectly able to make their own meals. This isn’t the fifties,” Angela remarked to Emilio. “You’re a bachelor. What do you do for supper?”

“I buy it.” Emilio laughed. “Until I can land myself a girlfriend who’ll fry me up a nice steak, it’s all takeout all the time for this single man.”

Angela dabbed at her crimson lips with a napkin and leaned on her elbows as she gave Emilio an appraising look. “So when you find this girlfriend, what else are you going to have her cook besides steak?”

Emilio pulled at a string of cheese protruding from the edge of his beef enchilada and shrugged. “Stuff my mom made. You know, Italian stuff. Lasagna, veal parmigianino, gnocchi, cannoli. None of this Southern fried chicken and grits; I can’t stand that kind of food.”

Angela bristled. Cooper knew that the perky secretary prided herself on the perfection of her fried chicken.

“What if she can’t cook like your mama?” Ben asked.

Emilio pulled another long strand of cheese from his fork, twisted it around his index finger, and pushed it into his mouth with a laugh. “There’s lots of fish in the sea, right? It’s not like I won’t do things for the woman who takes care of me either. It has to be a two-way street. That’s how a good partnership works, right, my man?” He knocked Ben’s arm with his elbow, causing Ben’s uniform sleeve to slide into a puddle of guacamole.

“Good luck finding a woman who’ll slave over a hot stove for you!” Angela shoved her chair away from the table and balled up her napkin in annoyance.

“I’ve already got the perfect lady in mind.” Emilio smiled enigmatically.

Cooper got to her feet and tossed the remainder of her lunch in the garbage.

“Where are you going?” Emilio asked, suddenly the picture of friendly concern. “Something wrong with your food? Want me to get you something else?”

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry anymore,” Cooper told him. Hurrying to the restroom, she washed her hands and then paused at her locker, almost afraid to look inside. She opened it a hesitant crack, but even the weak fluorescents overhead were sufficient enough to illuminate the gold Godiva box.

“Oh, no,” Cooper moaned and slammed the locker shut. She hastened to leave the room before Emilio could corner her there and headed for the front door, thinking that she’d never been so eager to perform maintenance on the machines at a medical office park across town.

When she reached the lobby, Angela waved a piece of pink memo paper at Cooper with her left hand while holding the phone against her shoulder and taking notes with her right.

She looks cross, Cooper thought. She mouthed a thank-you at Angela and examined the message. It was from Trish. Angela had taken down the Realtor’s cell phone number and made it clear that Cooper should return the call ASAP.

Donning her headset once again, Cooper hopped into the van and called Trish.

“You’re the last one I needed to get hold of,” Trish began. “I phoned Lali to see what happened on Saturday and it’s a good thing I did. The police have nothing to go on because Mr. Crosby refused to talk to them. I mean, the man didn’t say a single word. He just waved them away so he could watch TV. Despite his lack of cooperation, the officers also paid visits to all the folks who claim to have had things stolen from their homes.”

“Oh, good,” Cooper said, heading for the interstate in hopes of avoiding the hundreds of traffic lights on Broad Street.

“No, not good,” Trish countered. “Apparently, all of the victims have suffered memory lapses over the last six months.”

Cooper scowled as a minivan eased into her lane without bothering to signal. “So?”

“So they don’t make very reliable witnesses,” Trish explained impatiently. “Basically, the police told Lali that there’s not much they can do until more proof of a crime can be provided.”

“Oh, dear.” Cooper was discouraged. “I was hoping they’d figure out who was responsible for all these bad things, giving us no cause to get involved.”

“Well, they’re not doing anything else, but we’re going to.”

Instantly anxious, Cooper pressed down on the gas pedal and the van lumbered forward in the center lane, gaining on a yellow bus from one of the county’s elementary schools. “What do you have in mind?” Cooper frowned as the children sitting in the back seats pressed their faces against the glass and began contorting their features for her benefit.

“We’re proceeding with our potluck party. This Saturday evening at the Deep Run Park Recreation Center. Can you bring one of your mama’s wonderful desserts? I’m in charge of the wine.”

Cooper was thrown for a loop by that statement. “Can you even drink wine at the park?”

“I’m getting a temporary alcohol permit. We’re going to need the wine, Cooper. We have to loosen lots of tongues.”

“It’s kind of short notice, Trish,” Cooper pointed out as she exited the highway. “Do you think all the volunteers will come?”

“We only need the ones who work Fridays or Saturdays.”

“Why?”

“Because the missing items were always discovered after a weekend. Lali let something else slip as well.” Trish paused to build suspense. “The folks who died this summer were all declared dead on a Saturday or Sunday. That means someone’s been messing with the clients on a Friday or Saturday.”

Cooper tried to digest Trish’s logic. “Still, do you think everyone will show up for a spontaneous potluck?”

“I know they will,” Trish declared. “Lali gave me their numbers and I’ve been on the phone all afternoon. They’re all coming—probably because I made a big deal of emphasizing that it was an appreciation dinner in their honor and that someone was going to win two tickets to Hairspray at the Landmark Theater. How could they say no?” Trish sounded harried, but pleased. “The only one I can’t reach is Leo. Seems he doesn’t have a phone at the moment.”

“He’s the person I’d least expect to see at this dinner.”

“Oh, he’s going!” Trish exclaimed. “If I have to tie him up and carry him on my shoulders, he’s going.”

Cooper laughed at the image. “In that case, I’d better make some extra pumpkin bars. Leo looks like he could pack away some food.”

“Let’s just hope that’s all he’s packing,” Trish muttered.

“Trish,” Cooper admonished. “You have to stop watching Law & Order reruns.”

9

Cooper arrived at the Deep Run Park Recreation Center carrying two baskets lined with autumnal tea towels. Each basket was brimming with fragrant pumpkin crisp squares, and she couldn’t help but feel a small measure of pride over how perfectly the golden crumb topping and moist pumpkin layer had turned out. Of course, Maggie’s original recipes always resulted in a mouthwatering dessert, but not all were as simple to reproduce as the pumpkin squares.

Grammy had watched Cooper bake throughout the afternoon. She’d sampled the unbaked crisp and insisted that Cooper add more butter or brown sugar to the mixture. Finally, she pronounced that every bachelor in the room should propose marriage after sampling the pumpkin squares.

“You must take after your mama in the kitchen.” Grammy was clearly pleased. “She speaks the truth when she calls her goodies Magnolia’s Marvels. Guess I’m the lucky one, since all I seem able to taste these days are foods loaded with sugar or salt. Of course, I had to find out the hard way that my denture paste can’t stand up to peanuts.”

As she cut the pumpkin crisp into squares, Cooper noted that Grammy was skinnier than ever and marveled over how she continued to diminish in size despite snacking on cookies all day long.

“You feeling okay, Grammy?” she’d asked her.

“Just a mite tired,” Grammy had replied and patted Cooper’s arm. “Go on and have fun with your friends. I don’t need you frettin’ over me. Leave your worries in this kitchen, ya hear?”

That had been easier said than done, however, for Trish had telephoned all the Sunrise Bible Study members to inform them that they were each to pay particular attention to two of the volunteers on Saturday night. Cooper was supposed to glean as much information as possible about Warren and Brenda and then, once she returned home, write down all of her observations to share with the group Sunday after church.

Cooper didn’t expect any difficulty in chatting up Brenda, but drawing Warren out would be a challenge. After all, he was pleasant, but he was also quite shy, and Cooper knew that conducting small talk was a skill in which she was not very accomplished.

I hope I’m not too obvious, she thought as she stepped through the sliding glass doors of the recreation center.

According to Trish, Nathan had been assigned to Warren as well. He and Bryant were also supposed to subtly interrogate Penny until they had a complete picture of her life beyond the hours she devoted to Door-2-Door.

“By investigating in pairs, we’ll have two views on the regular Saturday volunteers,” Trish explained, adopting an authoritative tone. “Except for Leo, that is. If he shows up, Savannah wants to be seated next to him and then she’d like us to leave her alone with him. Can you imagine?”

Cooper could. If anyone could break through Leo’s tough exterior, it was Savannah. She had such a gentle manner, a soft, sincere quietness that created a feeling of safety. Their group leader was adept at listening, was never judgmental, and always looked for the good in people. This feeling of serenity was infused in all of her folk art paintings and Cooper remembered how she felt when she saw one of Savannah’s works for the first time. She had been moved and delighted by the faceless figures of Savannah’s biblical scenes. Whether she was painting Adam and Eve in the garden or Jesus walking on water, Savannah managed to capture the feeling behind the words of Scripture each time her brush met the canvas.

“Let me take one of those baskets,” Jake offered when Cooper entered the room. The circular tables were covered with mustard-colored cloths and featured centerpieces of garnet-hued chrysanthemums in terra-cotta pots. Red, yellow, and orange balloons were tied to the back of each chair, and oversized leaves sprinkled with glitter dangled from the ceiling, pivoting lazily above the sounds of conversation and laughter.

“Trish, you did a wonderful job in here!” Cooper complimented her friend.

Trish smoothed her helmet of copper hair and grinned. “Thank you. My girls helped me set up this afternoon. They really wanted to stay. They even tried to get my husband to convince me.” Her smile grew smaller. “But they’ve got a piano recital next week and they simply must practice. I promised to bring them some dessert though.” She leaned toward Cooper’s basket. “Are those the pumpkin crisp squares?”

“They smell so good!” Quinton put his face close to the basket Jake held and inhaled deeply. Trish reached out for both baskets.

“I’ll just put these on the buffet table. Quinton, why don’t you see if any of the volunteers would care for a glass of apple cider? We have nonalcoholic and a spiked version as well. I added apple brandy to the punch bowl on the right. Time to get those tongues wagging!” Trish swiveled toward the door. “Oh, there’s Lali and Anita. Good luck, friends.” She hurried away in a click of maroon heels.

“Does that woman ever rest?” Jake murmured in admiration. “Her family seems like they’re all go-getters. The husband and those two cute little girls worked their butts off setting up and then didn’t ask Trish to bring home so much as a cookie or a brownie. Just kissed her good-bye and went on home.”

Cooper watched Trish welcome Lali, Anita, and a man she assumed was Anita’s husband. “I’m glad Trish sent the girls home. I’m sure she didn’t want them exposed to a dangerous individual. After all, someone wicked will be mingling with us tonight, Jake.”

“I see your point.” Jake nodded thoughtfully.

“Did Trish hire a band?” Cooper indicated the raised platform in the corner, which was set up with three microphones, an amplifier, a keyboard, and drums.

“That would be so cool,” Bryant said, coming to join them. “And here I thought Trish was a bit uptight, but I could be wrong. Spiked punch and maybe some rocking music. What a shindig!”

Jake laughed. “Before you get your Saturday Night Fever on, I asked her about the little stage over there. It was set up for a guy’s surprise birthday party. They’re using this room after us for some late-night bash to celebrate his turning twenty-one.”

Bryant sighed. “I remember my twenty-first. It was awesome.”

“If Trish were standing here, she’d say that you still believe you’re twenty-one,” Cooper teased.

“You’re only as young as you think you are,” Bryant quipped.

“Or as young as the girls you date.” Jake nudged him playfully in the side. “Did you ask out that woman at work yet?”

Bryant smiled. “Not only did I ask her out, but I invited her kids to come along. I took them bowling. First of all, I never realized how much food a kid can pack away. Popcorn, pretzels, hot dogs, pitchers of soda, and ice cream for dessert. You should have seen the debris scattered across the table. Secondly, I’ve never been so badly beaten by an entire family during a casual game of knock-down-the-pins. Paige outscored me by twenty and somehow still managed to make me feel like I was the man of the hour.”

“She sounds like a special lady,” Jake said. “I think you’re going to have a lot of fun with her and her kids. I’m glad you took her out, my man.”

“Me, too.” Bryant grinned sheepishly.

“Okay, friends.” Quinton gestured at the tables. “Let’s start socializing. I’ve been assigned Madge and Eugene. Eugene ought to be easy enough to cross off the list. He always has to go along with someone who can drive, so unless he’s been stealing things on the sly during deliveries, he’s in the clear.”

Quinton glanced at the young man who was putting a face on a pumpkin using a permanent marker, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he concentrated. “Not that I can see him hurting anyone. He seems completely content, so what would be his motive for taking other people’s treasures?”

As Quinton walked away, Cooper reflected on his comment. What was the thief’s motive? Money? Did they sell the objects they stole? Did they feel humiliated or overlooked and therefore felt the need to prey on people they could easily take advantage of? Were they seeking revenge against the elderly because a senior citizen had once wronged them?

Cooper watched Jake and Quinton seat themselves at different tables and begin to strike up conversations. Shaking her head, she wondered if any of her friends was truly capable of determining which volunteer fit the profile of thief and possible murderer.

“You all right?” Nathan whispered, placing his hand on the small of her back. “You seem lost in thought.”

“This just feels wrong. We should be saluting these folks for giving up their time to help those in need. Instead, we’ve gathered here to wring out their secrets, hang them on the line, and then examine them with a magnifying glass.”

“I know,” Nathan replied softly. “But think of Mr. Crosby. He’s alone with no one to defend him, as are so many of the seniors relying on Door-2-Door. If we don’t protect them, who will?” His hand slid up her back and squeezed her shoulder, sending a tingle along the knobs of her spine. “Just listen to your heart, Cooper. It’ll know what to do.”

Buoyed by Nathan’s pep talk, Cooper joined Warren at the food table. Picking up a paper plate covered by designs of a fruit-filled cornucopia, Cooper noticed that Trish had also used coordinating cornucopia notecards to identify the dishes. The buffet line kicked off with a cheddar-and-bacon dip accompanied by thin slices of homemade rye bread. Next was a green salad tossed with walnuts and goat cheese. Beyond that, a Crock-Pot filled with simmering corn chowder stood adjacent to a bowl of long-grain rice mixed with dried cranberries. The entree, which Trish had had catered from a nearby restaurant, was an elegant platter of sliced pork tenderloin in a wild mushroom sauce. A deep bowl of tricolored pasta salad with black olives came next, followed by a colorful squash medley. A wooden bowl overflowing with autumn succotash was at the end of the long line of mouthwatering food.

Cooper served herself a spoonful of succotash, admiring how beautifully the hues of the lima beans, corn kernels, and bacon slivers complemented one another. When her plate could hold no more, she followed Warren past the dessert table, which contained her pumpkin crisp squares along with an apple strudel and a chocolate pecan pie.

“What a spread.” Warren whistled in appreciation. “Seems like everyone in your Bible group is a great cook.”

“We’ve gotten pretty spoiled on homemade baked goods,” Cooper agreed. “Most of us can bake something. Except for Jake. He always picks up Krispy Kremes. Oh, and Trish. She doesn’t cook anything—not even brownies from a box. She says she has the cleanest oven in Richmond.”

Warren laughed and Cooper felt herself relaxing. This wasn’t so hard. All she had to do was make some jokes and ask some questions. Judging by the way Warren smiled at her between bites, Cooper felt certain that she’d at least catch a glimpse of his life outside of Door-2-Door.

Placing his hand on the arm of an elderly lady wearing purple bifocals, Warren turned to Cooper. “This is my Nana Helen. She has Alzheimer’s. Don’t mind her if she doesn’t say much. This has been one of those days where she’s been revisiting memories in her mind.”

“Does she live with you?” Cooper asked, her heart warmed by the tenderness in Warren’s eyes.

“Yeah. We’re out in Louisa on what’s left of their farm. My grandparents’ farm, that is.” Warren placed a cup of cider in Helen’s hand. “Don’t worry, it’s not one of those sad, we-were-forced-to-sell-off-the-family-farm stories.”

“That’s good.” Cooper was relieved. “Because I’m not fond of those kinds of farm stories.”

“Me either,” Warren agreed. “My grandparents sold the place so that my dad and his brothers could go to college. A businessman made them an offer they couldn’t turn down and now most of the land is covered by a subdivision called Fox Run.”

Cooper took a sip of the spiked cider and enjoyed the feeling of warmth coating her throat. “Why do they always name subdivisions after foxes or eagles or other creatures that wouldn’t be caught dead living in the three trees left standing? They also like using horse names. There’s got to be a thousand neighborhoods named after steeplechases or thoroughbreds or some other equestrian term, even though there hasn’t been a horse within fifty miles of the place in this century.”

Warren laughed and waved at Campbell, Door-2-Door’s kitchen manager, as the giant man passed them on his way to the buffet table. “I’d name my subdivision something honest, like Box Hall or Pre-Fab Villas.” Warren cut up Helen’s pork into bite-sized pieces as she silently fed herself corn chowder. “There you go, Nana,” he said, removing her empty soup bowl and placing the pork in front of her.

Cooper smiled at Warren. “Have you been volunteering at Door-2-Door for a long time?”

“A little over a year now,” he said. “I can remember the time pretty clearly because that’s when Nana’s mind started drifting. I started to think about what life would be like for her if she didn’t have family around her and I wanted to help people who didn’t have that support.” He replaced Helen’s napkin, which had slid from her lap to the floor. “She’s been inspiring me to give to others my whole life.”

“And you volunteer every Saturday?” Cooper felt a prick of guilt over persisting in her line of questioning. “Don’t you need rest after your workweek?”

Warren thought about this for a moment and then shook his head. “I’m a delivery guy for LabTech. I pick up test samples all over town and bring them to the lab. I also bring supplies to the medical offices we run. I have no stress, I’m paid pretty well, and I’m off by four thirty every day. No complaints. I figure I can spare a few hours on Saturday. I get up early on Saturdays, anyway, so I can check out the most promising garage sales.”

“So Saturday’s the only time you can drive a route?”

Warren nodded. “Yeah. I wish I could do more, but that’s all I can manage with my schedule right now. LabTech’s got me on a split shift on Friday so I can pack coolers at Door-2-Door. I like going there twice a week. Everyone is really nice. Even Campbell. He’s just a big bear with a loud roar.” He smirked. “It took me a while not to tremble every time I made a mistake packing coolers. It was like I half expected Campbell to strap me to the back of his Harley and drive me to the nearest cliff.”

At that moment, Brenda arrived at their table trailed by a young boy wearing glasses and holding a library book. “Darik!” Brenda barked at him affectionately. “Put that book on the table and take your plate from your mama. I ain’t gonna stand here all day waitin’ on you.”

Without replying, Darik seated himself at the table and held out his hands for a plate.

Brenda handed her son a napkin and then sat down between Darik and Cooper. “Everybody, this is my son. Darik, say hello.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the boy said softly, keeping his eyes fastened on his plate.

“You stole one of our clients, Warren?” Brenda joked as she waved at Helen.

Warren explained who she was and Brenda beamed at him. “You’re a fine grandson, Warren. This is how it’s supposed to be—folks takin’ care of the old instead of shuttin’ them in some home with a bunch of strangers or leavin’ them to fend for themselves.” She glanced sideways at Darik. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby. Let’s thank the Lord so you can eat.” She and Darik bowed their heads, clasped their hands on the table, and whispered a prayer. “And thank you, Jesus, for so many reasons to celebrate! Amen!” Darik echoed her amen with an equal amount of enthusiasm.

“What did you make at that glorious table?” Brenda asked Cooper.

“One of the desserts,” Cooper replied. “If anyone has room after the rest of the meal to taste it, I’ll be surprised.”

“Honey, I’ll have plenty of space!” Brenda declared, gesturing at her formidable belly. “You’d think I’d get tired of food, bein’ that I work as a cashier at Kroger and see nothin’ but things to shove in my mouth all day long.” She sighed. “But heaven help me, I love to eat!”

“Being a cashier has to be hard,” Warren said. “You’re on your feet for so many hours.”

Brenda’s fork bobbed up and down in agreement. “You’ve no idea, sugar! By the end of my shift my back hurts, my feet hurt, and even my arms hurt from pushing heavy things like Tide and cases of beer across the scanner. I work like an ox and am still barely makin’ ends meet.” She put her arm around Darik’s shoulders. “Good thing this one don’t eat too much, but he’s little now. I’ve seen how teenage boys go at their food, and it’ll put the fear of God in you! Three burgers, a gallon of milk, potato chips all night. Shoot, I’d better make shift manager by the time Darik goes to junior high!”

“I’ll get a job, too, Mama,” the boy said seriously and Brenda’s smile shone with pride.

“Yessir, you’re a good worker, too, but I’d much rather see you read your books, son. That’s the secret to movin’ up in this world. Books.” She eyed Cooper. “You work with books?”

Cooper held out her calloused hands. “No. I work with these.” She told her tablemates about her job and the conversation flowed smoothly for another thirty minutes. Warren and Brenda offered to fetch enough dessert for all to share while Cooper refilled cups with apple cider. As she poured some of the nonalcoholic cider into Darik’s cup, he looked at her curiously.

“How’d you get different-colored eyes like that?”

Cooper touched the skin just below the green eye. “I had an accident playing sports and I was given the green eye to help me see again.”

“Wow,” Darik breathed. “Do you have X-ray vision? Like Superman? I saw the movie at Jamaar’s house. We don’t have a TV. Mama says we can’t afford one.”

With a laugh, Cooper replied, “I can’t see through walls, but that would be pretty cool. Still, if I could have magic powers, I’d rather fly.” She told Darik about their family pet Columbus and the little boy listened raptly.

“That hawk got shot?” His dark eyes were round. “That’s what happened to my daddy, too. But he’s in heaven now. Well, he might be in heaven.” The boy looked doubtful. “Mama says Daddy wanted nice stuff but didn’t wanna pay for it. He did bad things, but she won’t tell me what. Then he got shot right here.” He touched his chest and then clamped his lips shut as his mother approached.

“Lord, Darik! I’m gonna need to buy a bigger pair of pants if we stay here much longer!” She handed her son a plate of desserts and then dug the side of her fork into a large slice of apple strudel. “Mmm,” she moaned and fanned her face with her hand. “I don’t know what we did to deserve this party,” she said to Cooper. “But I will bless the day you all decided to show up at Door-2-Door. It’s the only day I volunteer and if Darik didn’t play with his cousin every Saturday, I’d’ve missed out on this feast! We are sure grateful to you all.”

“Yes, indeed,” Warren said and toasted Cooper with his cider cup. “Thank you for showing us such generosity and appreciation. It’s really nice to make new friends.”

Cooper felt a wave of shame flood through her. How would Warren and Brenda react if they found out that the purpose of the dinner was to seek out a villain?

She stared at the slice of chocolate pecan pie on her plate and sighed. Her stomach was too stuffed to squeeze in another morsel. Warren murmured to Helen as he named the selection of desserts for her. Her eyes twinkled as she picked up a bite-sized piece of strudel and then leaned into her grandson, who gave her a brief hug.

Suddenly, five men wearing shiny gray suits walked into the party. One of them carried a saxophone, one had a trumpet, and another held a clarinet against his chest. They headed directly for the stage, only to be intercepted by Trish, who gesticulated angrily between the raised platform and the tables filled with diners. It looked like one of the band members started to plead with Trish, and it was only when Bryant joined the fray that Trish’s grimace finally melted away. Shrugging her shoulders in resignation, she returned to her table.

The band members fidgeted with their equipment and everyone jumped in surprise when they conducted a sound check.

“Good evening, folks!” The lead singer’s voice filled the room. “We appreciate the opportunity to warm up before the birthday party begins. Rockin’ Rob here has had a cold all week and we have to make sure he can play. Otherwise, we’ll have to call in some backup. Anyone out there play the sax?”

Several of the Door-2-Door volunteers laughed as Eugene raised his hand.

“All right!” The band member nodded his head. “We’ll keep you in mind, brother. And now, without further ado, we’d like to bring you the jumpin’, jivin’ tunes of Tommy Ziegler and the Capital City Swing Band!”

Instantly, the trumpet and saxophone burst into life, accompanied by a high-energy drumbeat. Tommy Ziegler began to sing, snap his fingers in time to the zippy music, and shake his hips behind the microphone stand. All around the room, heads began to bob and hands began to clap in time to the rhythm. “Come on, baby!” Brenda shouted to her son. “Let’s shake our stuff!” Darik bounced after his mother to the small square of clear flooring in front of the stand and the twosome began to dance, their faces shining with delight.

Inspired, people abandoned their desserts and joined Brenda and Darik. Bryant took Trish in his arms and began to perform complicated swing-dance steps with her. At first, she seemed stiff and unrelenting, but after a few minutes, she was kicking up her heels like a Rockette. Nathan also made his way to the dance floor, and Cooper felt a prick of jealousy when she saw Nathan holding Lali’s hand.

Where is Lali’s husband? Cooper wondered crossly and then realized that he was already dancing with Anita.

To avoid staring at Nathan, Cooper looked at Helen instead. She was smiling and clapping her hands, and as Cooper’s eyes met Warren’s, he stood up and offered her his hand. “I’m not much of a dancer, but I’d love the opportunity to step on your feet if you’re willing.”

“I am.” Cooper grinned and took Warren’s hand. Just as they made their way to the crowded space between the tables and the stage, the frenzied swing song ended and Tommy and company began to sing a slow, romantic tune instead.

“Now I can really step on you,” Warren said with a shy smile as he slipped his arm around Cooper’s waist.

Warren smelled pleasant, like a mixture of wet grass and soil. It was a scent that reminded her of her greenhouse and she felt surprisingly comfortable in his arms. Warren guided her into a graceful turn and then effortlessly reeled her back toward him.

“Whoa! You got some moves there, girl!” Jake shouted as he gently held Savannah and rocked her from side to side like an awkward preteen at a school dance.

“It’s all my partner,” Cooper confessed with a blush. “He’s a strong leader.”

Now Warren’s cheeks turned pink. The song ended and Cooper thanked him, and the pair returned to their seats. Tommy Ziegler took a brief bow and then he and his bandmates set their instruments down. Glowing with exertion, Trish ran forward and invited them to partake of their potluck feast.

As the Capital City Swingers loaded their plates, several of the Door-2-Door volunteers gathered their coats and handbags and, after thanking each member of the Sunrise Bible Study, left for home. Cooper picked up her empty pumpkin square baskets and said good night to her friends. When Nathan offered to accompany her to her truck, she politely demurred. Normally, she’d be overjoyed to spend time with Nathan, but right now, all she wanted was a bit of fresh air and a few moments of silence in which she could pray for forgiveness for deceiving such a fine group of people.

“There must be someone else to blame for these thefts,” she spoke into the quiet as she drove along the one-lane road leading to her house. “Because if all the volunteers are anything like Brenda and Warren, we’re accusing angels of being demons.”

• • •

The next day, Cooper hurriedly dressed for church. She was anxious to hear what her friends had to say about the Door-2-Door volunteers they’d socialized with the night before and was pleased to find they’d all made it to the classroom before her.

“Who provided us with this lovely breakfast?” Savannah asked after Jake presented her with a flaky croissant brushed with melted butter and a salad made of strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries topped by a dollop of crème fraîche.

“I did,” Nathan said. “I was still full from last night’s dinner, so I thought I’d avoid our usual fare of iced pastries with a side of coffee cake. I know these croissants look heavy, but they’re actually whole wheat and won’t settle in your stomach like a pile of bricks.”

“You should start your own cooking show.” Jake took an appreciative bite of croissant. “How many guys can come up with something this good made out of wheat?”

Savannah smiled as she tore off the end of her croissant with her elegant, paint-stained fingers. “Maybe Bryant can propose it to his network.”

Bryant mumbled something unintelligible and Nathan nudged his elbow. “Late night, Bryant?”

“Sometimes it’s hard to keep pace with Paige. I don’t know how she has so much energy after spending all day with her kids,” Bryant said groggily.

“A single mom has no choice. She has an entire family’s worth of responsibility on her shoulders.” Trish scrutinized Bryant over her coffee cup. “I know Paige is over thirty, but she sounds like she’s really got it together. Are you considering getting serious with her?”

Bryant shrugged and Savannah took advantage of the momentary silence to change the subject. “Let’s begin, shall we? Any prayer requests?”

Quinton asked for his friends to pray that his nephew’s broken toe would heal quickly and correctly. “He shut it in the car door, poor kid,” he explained. “Second time he’s done it, too.”

“I’d like to ask for discernment regarding a new client,” Nathan said. “He brought me his product to photograph for the website, and when I examined it, I started having doubts about what he’s selling.”

“Is this the guy with the muscle-building supplements?” Jake wanted to know.

“Yes,” Nathan said. “Tobey says his goal is to help little guys bulk up and gain confidence. I like the idea of his product, but I’m just not sure it is what he says it is. However, I have no experience with herbal medicines.”

“What if it’s actually a harmful steroid?” Trish asked, looking nervous.

Nathan held out his hands. “Everything appears to be aboveboard with his business. It’s just a feeling I have about this particular product. I don’t know anything about this type of item, so I have no right to assume that there’s something wrong with it, but I can’t seem to shake the possibility that my client and his goods aren’t all that they appear.”

Savannah nodded. “We’ll pray for you to be guided in this matter, Nathan. Anyone else?”

After a brief hesitation, Cooper spoke up. “I have a request on behalf of my sister, Ashley. She and her husband have been trying to start a family for about a year now. Things are getting tense between them. I just worry about her getting depressed because she’s not pregnant yet.”

Cooper’s friends uttered sympathetic murmurs and promised to add Ashley to their prayer lists.

“I have a request, too.” Jake sat forward in his chair and clasped his hands together over his closed workbook. “When I was reading about Joseph this weekend—remember the part when he gets thrown in the Egyptian slammer and he asks his cellmate, that cupbearer guy, to mention him to Pharaoh when he’s freed?”

Everyone nodded in unison.

“Well, the cupbearer forgets about Joseph. That burned me up! And right away, I started thinking about the people Door-2-Door helps. The folks who’ve been left alone for whatever reason. My prayer is that we won’t forget about them.” He glanced around the room, his eyes dark and determined. “I know we’re talking all this out after church, but I want those people to be on our minds as we head into the worship service.”

Bryant gave Jake a thumbs-up. “Well said.”

The Sunrise members joined hands and bowed their heads while Savannah led them in prayer. They spent the rest of the hour drinking coffee and sharing their views on Joseph as well as Egypt’s seven years of plenty and seven years of famine. Afterward, the group adjourned to the auditorium for worship service, with plans to reunite at Quinton’s town house by quarter of one.

Quinton’s Tudor-style town home on South Harrison Street was located beneath the shadow of Richmond’s venerable burial ground, Hollywood Cemetery. The cemetery rose in a steep hill overlooking the James River and several downtown neighborhoods. Quinton had told his friends many times that he loved living near the historic landmark and often took evening walks through the cemetery.

“When I’ve had a bad day because the stock market’s down or a client has left our brokerage firm for a competing firm, it only takes a stroll around that place to put things in perspective,” Quinton said. “And it’s very moving to read the epitaphs people have written for their loved ones.”

Cooper had never been inside Quinton’s home before, but she was impressed by the cleanliness of the walnut wood floors, glass-topped tables, and plush leather furniture. Quinton had decorated his apartment using a multitude of brown and cream tones punctuated by splashes of red and green, which appeared in the rugs, throw pillows, and in the lithographs grouped on his off-white walls.

“Quinton, I wish you’d come over and make my place look as cool as this.” Jake pivoted around, impressed by what he saw. “I still have my mama’s old flowered sofas and a coffee table that’s piled so high with magazines and tools and junk that its legs are starting to give.”

“I can’t take any credit for the decor. My sister’s an interior designer and I just gave her my Visa card and she took over.” He led his friends into his open kitchen. “I bought sandwich fixings for our meal.” Quinton began pulling lunchmeat out of his gigantic Sub-Zero fridge. “And fresh bread from Montana Gold.” He looked to Trish for help. “Would you arrange the food on this plate?” He handed her an oversized brass platter. “I had to save my energy for a special dessert.”

“Hard salami!” Jake grinned as he hovered behind Trish. “I liked you before, my man, but I love you now. This is my favorite.”

“I’ll stick to turkey and Muenster,” Bryant said, assembling his sandwich. “Do you have any pickles, Quinton?”

“Sure. And three kinds of potato chips.” He ripped open a bag of barbeque chips and dumped them into a wooden bowl. “And brownies.” He whipped the tin foil off a tray of brownie squares. “But these aren’t your run-of-the-mill Duncan Hines boxed stuff. For you, my dearest friends, I’ve made fudge brownies with peanut butter frosting.”

“Quinton, thank you so much for spoiling us today,” Savannah said as Jake helped her settle on one of the stools tucked beneath the kitchen island. Trish and Cooper also sat while the rest of the group leaned against the cabinets to eat.

They chewed in thoughtful silence for a few moments and Cooper wondered if they all felt as reluctant as she did to share their observances on their fellow Door-2-Door volunteers.

Nathan, who was standing near Quinton’s double sink, suddenly put down his ham and provolone sandwich and dusted crumbs from his hands. “I have to admit that I’m not looking forward to our discussion. The two people I talked to last night were delightful—just as they’ve been at the Door-2-Door headquarters the past few Saturdays. It’s how I imagine they are all the time. Totally great.”

“Somebody’s only pretending to be good,” Jake reminded Nathan. “This isn’t going to be a smooth road we’re treading, but we have to follow it if we want to seek justice for those who’ve been wronged.”

“Should we get started, then?” Savannah asked the group.

At that moment, Trish’s cell phone rang and strains of Pachelbel’s Canon echoed throughout the kitchen as she glanced at the Caller ID. “It’s Lali,” she said with surprise. Trish answered the phone and then her violet-tinted eyes grew round with shock. Her hand flew over her mouth and she murmured, “No!” She listened for another moment, her expression growing more and more dismayed, and then slowly lowered her phone.

“Lali wanted us to know . . .” Trish placed her right palm on the countertop to steady herself. “She wanted to tell us that Mr. Crosby is dead. At this point, it looks like he suffered from a fatal heart attack.” She looked up, her eyes meeting Cooper’s briefly before traveling around the room. “I’m afraid they found him sitting in his chair. Just like the others.”

10

Quinton’s brownie tray clattered to the counter. “Not again.”

“That makes three Door-2-Door clients who have been found dead.” Nathan’s voice sounded strangled. “Sitting in their chairs.”

Cooper stared at his stricken face, but her mind was miles away inside Frank Crosby’s small, disheveled house. She visualized his quivering hands—the loose and wrinkled skin, the blue-purple of the swollen veins, the speckles of brown from wrist to knuckle. She saw Frank clutching his borrowed newspaper, the wobbly letters scratched inside each crossword square with the nub of a pencil. The scent of urine and stale sweat permeated her memory, and she winced, hating to think of the old man sunk deep in that awful chair, releasing his last breaths into the musty air of his decaying room.

Cooper couldn’t stop her tears from falling.

She wasn’t alone. Savannah’s head was bowed and she cried silently, hiding her eyes behind her hands. Trish and Jake had their arms around one another—their expressions a mixture of sorrow and bright anger. Bryant and Quinton gazed dully at the floor while Nathan twisted a paper napkin around and around his thumb.

After a moment, he placed a hand on Cooper’s arm. “You just met Mr. Crosby the other day. This must be especially tough for you.”

Bryant’s head snapped up. “And I found Mrs. Davenport!” He turned to Trish, his eyes uncommonly hostile. “I hope Lali has informed the police. They’ll have to order an autopsy if they want to find out what this fiend is using to send these old folks to sleep. And don’t tell me that we’re not involved, because from where I’m standing, we are definitely involved!”

Startled by Bryant’s vehemence, Trish was speechless for a second, but she managed to recover. “Lali called the police. I don’t know what’s happening beyond what she just told me.”

“Let’s not assume the police will find answers right away,” Jake said. “Autopsies take time. I say we go ahead with our suspect lists. We’ve helped the cops before and you know these Door-2-Door folks are going to be more relaxed around us than with a bunch of armed cops.”

The group members looked to Savannah to gauge what she thought of Jake’s suggestion. Their leader closed her eyes and fell silent for a moment. When she opened them again, she nodded, as if she’d reached a decision. “Yes, I think we should continue to investigate as long as we don’t jeopardize the case in any way. Who wants to go first?”

“Lali told us that Mr. Manningham and Mrs. Davenport were both in their nineties.” Nathan frowned. “Do you think this person believes he’s releasing them from pain or the indignities of becoming old so they can find peace?”

“Like a mercy killing?” Jake shook his head. “The victims might have been old, but they didn’t have diseases. They weren’t ill. Maybe this guy thinks they’re poor and lonely and are better off being with their loved ones who have already gone on before them.”

Trish glared at Jake. “No one has the right to decide when it’s another person’s time to die.”

“He’s a merciful killer, because he kills gently, but I doubt he’s doing it out of pity. More like greed. Or fear.” Cooper drummed her fingers on the countertop. “I don’t think Mrs. Davenport was troubled by loneliness. Lali told us that her daughter visited regularly. They used to polish her jewelry and try it on, right?” She turned to Nathan. “And Mr. Crosby was in his late seventies. That’s not the kind of old where people start feeling like their bodies are failing while their minds are still sharp. He could have lived two more decades for all we know.”

“Maybe the murderer thought Mr. Crosby wasn’t living at all,” Nathan argued. “That he was miserable and longed to let go of life.”

“I agree with Cooper. These are not acts of kindness and we’re not going to figure out the why until we figure out the who,” Quinton said and served himself a large brownie square. “I know this looks callous, but I eat when I’m anxious.” He bit off half the brownie. “And I’m really anxious right now.”

Savannah smiled at him. “Let’s put aside our fears and focus on what we know. We can begin by sharing what we discovered at the party and then put together a list of which volunteers have the strongest motive to steal from the elderly.”

Bryant laid a briefcase on the counter and removed a legal pad and a ballpoint pen from inside. “Good idea. If any of us learned something important during last night’s party, we can shared it with the police.”

“I wonder if anything’s missing from Mr. Crosby’s house,” Jake mused aloud while each member retrieved the notes they’d taken on their fellow Door-2-Door volunteers. “Do you know if he has family nearby?” Jake asked Cooper.

“He has a son—” Cooper began.

“Then he’s sure to look into his father’s death,” Trish interrupted, smoothing a sheet of ivory card stock covered by florid writing. “Personally, I think a relative is better suited to help the police search for clues than we are.” Trish spoke quickly, as if to forestall all possible argument. “Mr. Crosby’s son can demand an autopsy and he’s certain to know if his father owned anything of value. We can hardly rummage through his house.”

Cooper opened her mouth to disagree, but before she could get a word out, Quinton said, “You’re making assumptions about Mr. Crosby’s son.” His hand inched toward the brownie pan. “He and his father may not even be close. Does the kid even live locally? If he’s in the picture, why did Mr. Crosby need Door-2-Door every single day? Why didn’t he visit—?”

“It’s not possible for him to visit,” Cooper jumped in. “Mr. Crosby’s son is in jail.”

Nathan’s eyes widened. “Why?”

Cooper tried to remember exactly what Brenda had said. “He tried to sell heroin to an undercover cop.”

The friends exchanged dejected looks. Quinton polished off a second brownie and then began to scoop coffee beans into an electric grinder. “We’re going to need a caffeine boost to get our minds churning. Cover your ears, everyone.” He pressed on the plastic lid of the grinder and the noise of the beans being pulverized prevented further conversation.

Cooper inhaled the pleasant homey odor of fresh coffee. It was comforting to watch Quinton move about his kitchen. His fingers were nimble as he poured filtered water into an expensive and complicated coffee machine. Afterward, he laid out several stainless steel ramekins and carefully poured both white and raw brown sugar into two of the small bowls. The third contained several brands of sugar substitutes. Next, Quinton produced a pair of porcelain creamers and filled one with half-and-half and the other with low-fat milk.

While the coffee percolated, all eyes remained fastened on Quinton as he set out diminutive silver spoons next to the ramekins and displayed porcelain cups and saucers in a neat rectangle to the right of the creamers. Steam erupted from the top of the coffee carafe and surrounded Quinton’s head in a halo of thin mist.

“Quinton, I could watch you all day,” Nathan said. “And you’re just brewing coffee. I can’t fathom how magical it must be to watch you bake.”

“Less quiet,” Quinton replied, his round face pink with pleasure over Nathan’s compliment. “I always bake to classical music. The big symphonies in particular. Dvorak’s New World is my favorite.”

While the last hiccups emanated from the coffeemaker, Quinton retrieved a set of glass shakers from his cupboard. “I have cinnamon, nutmeg, or dark chocolate curls should you like a little something extra in your coffee.”

“Would you marry me?” Bryant asked and then offered to prepare a cup for Savannah. Once they were all armed with caffeine, Quinton led them into his living room. Nathan volunteered to type any relevant information on the Door-2-Door volunteers into his laptop.

An hour later, the coffee cups were drained, the brownies were gone, and Nathan had created a master list summarizing their findings.

“I can hook this up to your printer and make copies for everyone,” Nathan said, and by the time Trish and Bryant had loaded Quinton’s dishwasher with the lunch items, Cooper held the summary in her hands. She read it over carefully.

Warren—Courier for LabTech. Likes to go to garage sales on weekends. Bachelor. Lives with his grandma Helen on family farm in Louisa. She has Alzheimer’s. Warren volunteers at D2D Fridays and Saturdays. Has been there for over a year. Dresses in casual, inexpensive clothes, and is careful with his appearance. Drives a Toyota Corolla (not new, but very clean). A bit reserved but seems content.

Erik—Retired principal. Divorcé in his early seventies. Attractive. Good sense of humor. Lives on pension. Seems determined not to move from current D2D route. Flirts with female volunteers and D2D staff. Freely admits to wanting a wife, especially one who’d be willing to be in charge of the household tasks. Loves lake fishing by himself and enjoys playing Internet poker late at night. Drives an aged SUV rigged with fishing pole holders.

Brenda—Works as a cashier at Kroger. Finds her job tiring. Young son Darik is a bookworm. She really wants him to go to a private school outside the city because she thinks his district is populated by young gangsters. She worries her son is not getting the education he’ll need to earn a college scholarship. She barely makes enough to feed and house them. Volunteers at D2D because she feels blessed and wants to pass that on by delivering food and friendship. When Brenda was out of earshot, Darik said that his daddy was shot in the chest and killed. Was likely a criminal. Brenda drives a rusty, dented Caddy.

Madge—Sweet, rather fragile woman in her late sixties. Imagines herself in similar position to those D2D serves—a bit lonely and without family nearby. Retired nurse. One daughter who lives in London as a stage actress—she is wild and has had issues with drug and alcohol abuse. Madge doesn’t think she can count on her to care for her when she gets old. Seems a bit afraid of everything. Works at D2D because she and Penny go to same church and Penny convinced her to come. She’s glad that Penny asked her, as she doesn’t have much going on other than church functions. Misses excitement of hospital work. Drives a Saturn sedan.

Penny—Works part-time selling ad space for mailbox coupons. Married an older man who died and has two sons, both of whom are well off. One is a dentist and the other a hematologist. Both live outside of D.C. and are very busy with their own families and work. She says she’s addicted to QVC and has gotten into hot water buying things from the show. Admits to getting lonely. She says D2D is a main part of her social life. She used to be more active with church groups but got tired of the bossy ladies there. Too much like a high school clique, she says. Drives a station wagon.

Campbell—D2D kitchen manager. Always has Mondays off. Rides his Harley-Davidson to the beach as much as he can. Has a serious crush on a female bartender there who’s been rejecting his advances for over a year. He’s determined to win her heart by Christmas by “doing something big.” Wouldn’t say more. Loves his job. Is very close to his parents, who live in Petersburg. Says the D2D clients are all like the grandparents he never knew.

Leo—Forced to work at D2D as part of court sentence. Started in the middle of summer. Angry. Violent tattoos. Doesn’t have a car. Uses bus to get to D2D. Job? Hobbies? Family?

Cooper jotted several notes on her sheet of paper as she read. She then reviewed the document one more time, doing her best to pretend that the names listed there belonged to strangers instead of the amiable group of volunteers.

“What are you circling?” Nathan asked.

“We should consider the possibility that the killer is motivated by money.” She held up her hand before anyone could protest. “I know that sounds strange in a way because the Door-2-Door victims were poor, but if these aren’t mercy killings, then what else could the killer’s motive be?” Cooper ruminated out loud. “I’m circling any signs that the volunteers have financial issues.”

“Good thinking.” Jake nodded. “We can circle Erik right off. If he’s playing poker on the Internet, he could be deep in the hole. My brother got sucked into one of those cyber-money pits a few years ago. He’d come home from work, type in his credit card number, and boom!” He clapped his hands together for emphasis. “Six months later my sister-in-law finds out that he’s taken a second mortgage on the house. Man, he slept on the couch for a long time after that!”

“I bet.” Trish smirked. “I hate to be the one to point it out, but Brenda has a motive, too. She wants her son to go to private school, and the tuition is very expensive. Why, if my business weren’t doing so well, my girls would be going to our local school for certain.” She shook off the objectionable idea of her progeny attending public school. “There isn’t much a mother won’t do to ensure a good future for her child, and Brenda’s Kroger paycheck is not going to change Darik’s future. Selling pricey jewelry or gold coins to a pawnbroker could add up over time, assuming that’s what the killer is doing.”

“I hate to circle anyone on this list.” Quinton sighed despondently. “But Penny might be in debt due to her QVC sprees. Campbell may also be trying to accumulate a big pile of money to buy some . . .” He turned to Bryant. “What do teenagers call pricey jewelry these days?”

“Bling,” Bryant replied authoritatively. “He might hope to dazzle his girlfriend with some bling.”

“Madge could be trying to stockpile a nest egg for her old age,” Nathan added. “She seems fearful of being unable to care for herself and is truly terrified of the idea of a nursing home.”

“Can’t say that I blame her,” Cooper murmured, grateful that Grammy was safely established in the Lee house. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Grammy got sick. None of the Lees had medical training and could never afford to hire a full-time nurse. Even Ashley’s coffers might not be full enough to prevent Grammy from entering into an assisted-living program. Feeling grim, Cooper returned her attention to their suspect list. “Warren may want extra money, too,” she said, her face flushing with guilt as she recalled how pleasant it had been to dance with him. “His grandma has Alzheimer’s and must need special care during the day. He’s at work, so someone must be looking after her.”

“Everyone on this list needs money! We’re getting nowhere,” Jake muttered darkly.

“We need to look at this from a different angle,” Savannah said. “Because what’s especially difficult here is that no one appears to be spending any money. From what I’ve heard, the volunteers dress in inexpensive clothes, wear little or no jewelry, and drive fairly old cars. They take care of what they have and try hard to make ends meet.” She rubbed her chin in thought. “Whoever is committing these crimes has a way to sell the stolen items and hide the cash earned from these sales.”

“Like hiding it in the hen coop.” Cooper was reminded of where Grammy’s parents hid their money instead of entrusting it to the bank. “I wonder if this person wants to acquire a certain amount or if they’re going to just keep going, even though the police are involved now.” She shook her head. There were no easy answers. No obvious clues. “I think we’re going to have to wait and see what drugs were in Mr. Crosby’s body. Then we can narrow down our suspect list to a person who has access to drugs and needs cash.”

Nathan walked to the window overlooking a grassy hill belonging to the cemetery. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he paced back and forth, his reflection in the large panel of glass flickering as his body passed through the curtain of sunlight.

“It could take weeks for Mr. Crosby’s test results to come back. I know Lali’s told the police that her clients are being deliberately sent to their graves, but if we stand by and wait for them to get test results, another person could fall victim to the Door-2-Door killer before an arrest is made. We need to find out what Mr. Crosby’s most valuable possession was. It would be the freshest clue.”

“But there’s only one person we could ask. Frank Crosby’s son.” Bryant grimaced. “And I can’t be seen hanging around a prison. I have a reputation to consider.”

“Me, too!” Trish echoed, placing her hand over her heart as though the very idea of being seen with an inmate would cause her business to go up in flames.

Nathan turned from the window and looked intently at Cooper. “I’ll visit his son.”

Cooper felt a rush of tenderness sweep through her. She knew that Nathan was offering to do this because he wanted to solve the mystery of the older man’s death, but also because he knew how saddened Cooper was over the news that Mr. Crosby had been found dead. “You won’t be alone,” she whispered as if they were the only two people in the room. “I’ll be with you.”

“The rest of us should focus our attention elsewhere,” Savannah told the rest of the group. “Quinton, you see what you can find out about everyone’s financial situation. Perhaps you can call them under the guise of recommending solid investment strategies.”

Quinton nodded his head in agreement. “Actually, I might be able to help them save more judiciously. Every penny counts and I’m sure very few of them have spoken to a financial consultant about how to make the most of their money.” He held out his hands. “I just hope I don’t aid the murderer too much.”

“You’ll just have to take a chance with your kindness,” Savannah said with a smile. “Trish, you keep in contact with Lali. If she hears anything from the police, let us know.” Savannah fell silent, pulling the length of her long black braid through her right hand over and over as she ruminated.

“What about me?” Jake asked, looking hurt.

“I need you with me,” Savannah replied and Jake sat up straighter. “You and I are going to pay a visit to Leo. Since he didn’t come to our little party, we’re going to bring one to him.”

Looking uncertain, Jake mumbled, “I’d better make sure I have a thick metal pipe in the back of the Mr. Faucet van. You never know how these parties will end.”

• • •

The next day, Cooper was struggling to replace the fuser assembly on a Canon copier when her cell phone rang. Since her hands were dirty, she ignored the melodious burst of her phone’s “Love Me Do” ring. When it began to ring again, the Beatles crooning rather loudly in boisterous harmony, the manager of the clothing store swiveled around in her chair and frowned.

“Can I get that for you?” she asked Cooper acerbically, tapping her pencil with impatience. “I’m trying to fill out my hours schedule and I can’t do the math when I’m distracted.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” Cooper hastily wiped her hands with a rag, grabbed her phone, and stepped out the back door, which was reserved for deliveries, smoke breaks, and banished service people, such as herself.

Noting that both calls had come from Ashley, Cooper immediately grew annoyed. “Some of us have jobs!” she blurted when her sister answered the phone.

There was a moment of silence. “Coop. I need a favor.”

Surprised by Ashley’s tone, which was uncommonly quiet and edging toward timidity, Cooper quickly agreed.

“I have an appointment with Dr. Easter this afternoon,” Ashley said. “He’s the foremost infertility doctor in Richmond.”

“I thought you decided to give yourself more time before seeing a specialist,” Cooper said.

Ashley sighed mournfully. “The time it takes most couples has come and gone. Something’s wrong, Cooper. I can feel it inside and I need to know what the problem is. I’m going to get one of those 3-D ultrasounds this afternoon and Lincoln won’t, well, he can’t . . .” She trailed off.

“Of course I’ll come.”

“You won’t even miss any work,” Ashley hurriedly added. “I took the last appointment of the day so Lincoln wouldn’t have to cut his weekly staff meeting short, but now he says he has some Fall Madness Sale coming up and has to be around to fire up his salesmen.” She sniffed. “I can’t believe he thinks that talking one of his employees into wearing a werewolf suit for Halloween is more important than us having a baby. I need to see Dr. Easter, but I just couldn’t go alone, Coop. I’m scared.”

Trying to suppress the anger she felt toward Lincoln for being so unsupportive of her sister, Cooper kicked at the concrete wall she was leaning against with the point of her black boot. “Don’t be. Everything’s going to be all right. I’ll even hold your hand if you want me to.”

“Gross!” Ashley uttered a theatrical squeal. “I don’t want grease all over me!” She let loose a small giggle. “Besides, who knows what parts of me are going to be exposed. Your neck would be red as a fire truck!”

The sisters laughed and said good-bye. Back inside, the manager’s scowl had deepened. “I’m ready to use my copier now,” she grumbled while straightening one of her five necklaces. “When will it be fixed?”

“In just a few moments, ma’am,” Cooper replied politely through gritted teeth.

“Like the few minutes it took you to talk on the phone,” the woman muttered nastily under her breath and then walked out of her office with her nose in the air. Cooper heard her bark a series of curt orders to the salesgirls on the floor, who were already busy assisting customers, folding sweaters, or steaming crinkled blouses.

Retrieving a pair of pliers from her toolbox, Cooper’s thoughts returned to Ashley, who wanted to be a mother so desperately. Cooper reflected that there were certain things people wanted so badly that they’d do anything to get them. For Ashley, it was a baby. For others, it was fame. The person preying on the Door-2-Door clients would cross any line in order to attain valuable items, which could either be sold for profit or hoarded as some kind of twisted secret collection.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered in quiet anger and then positioned the fuser assembly into the copier’s cavity and replaced the surrounding mechanisms. The copier emitted a rumbling hum as power was restored to its system and Cooper sat beside it for a moment, enjoying the small victory of bringing a machine back to life.

She packed up her tools and forced herself to smile kindly as she asked the petulant manager to sign off on the work order. “If only humans were as easy to fix,” she murmured and headed off to her next assignment.

11

Seated in Dr. Easter’s office, Cooper did her best to feign interest in an old issue of American Baby magazine. However, she found the occupants in the waiting room far more captivating than an article on potty training.

Cooper’s gaze traveled to the woman next to her. The woman, who was rubbing her protruding belly in wide concentric circles, was a marked contrast to the slim, pale-faced woman who stood next to the aquarium, biting her nails in agitation and occasionally tapping on the glass so that the fish darted away. Directly across from Cooper, a couple sat with their hands clasped and their heads bent toward one another. Their downcast eyes, tense whispers, and hunched shoulders made it clear that they were frightened, and Cooper hoped the perinatal physician could ease their fear.

Finally, there was a young family occupying half a dozen chairs near the exit. Children between the ages of seven and two chewed on graham crackers, suckled noisily on juice boxes, clambered onto the reduced lap of their pregnant mother, or hung from the belt loops of their fathers’ pants. Despite their parents’ incessant requests to whisper, the children filled the waiting room with squeals, whines, and giggles.

“This place is a circus,” Ashley murmured crossly. “If I have to watch that little boy take apart that uterus model one more time, I’m going to brain him with it.”

“According to this magazine, you should try to talk to young children about disciplinary issues before resorting to violence,” Cooper teased in an attempt to lighten her sister’s mood.

“We’ve been sitting here for almost forty minutes.” Ashley tapped her faux leopard-skin ankle boot impatiently. “I’m sick of waiting. I’ve been waiting months and months to get pregnant and now I can’t stand to waste another second wondering what’s wrong with me.”

Before Cooper could reassure her sister, the receptionist slid open the glass window dividing her file-folder-lined enclosure from the rest of the waiting room. Examining the inside of a manila file, she called out, “Ashley Love?”

“Present!” Cooper smiled as Ashley held up her right arm as though she were in a classroom. Folding her suede coat over her arm, Ashley approached a nurse in pink scrubs who propped open the door leading to the examination rooms. Cooper followed right behind her sister.

“Will this take long?” Ashley asked, her blue eyes anxious.

The nurse shook her head. “No, dear. We’re just going to do an ultrasound. Shouldn’t take too long and it doesn’t hurt a bit.” Taking Ashley’s elbow, she began to steer her into the hallway. “Your sister can come on back once Dr. Easter’s ready to talk to you in his office, all right, sug?”

As Ashley nodded like an obedient child, Cooper’s cell phone rang from within her purse. The nurse pointed at the “Please Turn Off Cell Phones in Waiting Room” sign and scowled.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you. And don’t be nervous, Ashley. Everything’s going to be fine,” Cooper assured her sister as the nurse closed the door.

The Beatles continued to sing from the depths of her bag, so Cooper hustled out the office’s front door and pulled her phone out of her purse just as it fell mute. Noting that the missed call was from Nathan, Cooper settled herself on a bench overlooking a circular bed of fluffy purple dahlias and clusters of gold and orange snapdragons and called him back.

“Are you sitting down?” Nathan asked.

“Uh-oh,” Cooper moaned. “Not more bad news.”

She could sense Nathan choosing his words carefully. “Trish heard from Lali. The police are definitely viewing Mr. Crosby’s death as suspicious and have ordered an autopsy.”

“But that’s good news. An autopsy will reveal how Mr. Crosby was poisoned or drugged. That should help the police find the killer.”

“I don’t know if you heard about the double murder that happened over the weekend, but it’s all over the news. Between that and the high-profile suicide, or apparent suicide, of a former Olympic gymnast, I don’t think the toxicology lab will move Frank’s case to the top of their list.”

“I heard about the gymnast on the radio this morning,” Cooper said. “Irina Korolev, right? She won four gold medals in her career but was recently caught shoplifting from the petite’s section at Saks.” She watched another pregnant woman waddle into Dr. Easter’s office. “Why do you say ‘apparent’ suicide?”

“The Times-Dispatch attested that illegal steroids might be the real cause of death. Tobey showed me the article this morning while I corrected some minor errors on the Big Man site. Because of the article in the paper, he wanted to emphasize that the people using his products are protecting themselves from the harmful misuse of steroids. I have to say, he was really convincing. I think I was wrong to question his sincerity.”

“You’re just being a prudent businessman,” Cooper assured him. “So you think the double murder and Irina’s cases will get pushed ahead of Frank’s?”

Nathan sighed. “Yes. In fact, I called the medical examiner’s office and found out that it takes as much as eight weeks for a complete tox report, so Mr. Crosby’s cause of death could remain a mystery for another two months.”

“Eight weeks? The killer could easily strike again in that amount of time!” Cooper jumped up from the bench. “There must be something we can do.” She began to pace around the circular flower bed and the answer suddenly came to her. “What are you doing for lunch tomorrow, Nathan?”

Perplexed by her sudden change in tone, Nathan hesitated. “Um, I don’t have any plans and I’d love to see you. Is this a ‘date’ date or a quick lunch so we can come up with a brilliant plan to foil the Door-2-Door killer?”

“We have had some unusual dates, haven’t we?” Cooper said, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “But this one might be our oddest one yet.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but exactly where are we going for this romantic interlude? We’ve already covered dates in dark alleys, hospitals, and being held at gunpoint in an elevator.” Nathan laughed. “What’s left?”

“We haven’t been to this place before,” Cooper said. “We’re going to jail.”

• • •

“Can someone explain Ashley’s problem to me in plain English?” Grammy demanded that night when the Lees gathered for supper.

“She has a bicornuate uterus, Grammy,” Cooper explained patiently. “That means it’s heart-shaped and she could face challenges carrying a baby to term.”

“Can’t they fix that? Cut away the part that indents or somethin’?” Grammy speared a meatball with her fork and popped the whole thing into her mouth.

Cooper grimaced at the thought of a surgeon cutting away bits of her sister’s body. Staring at her plate of linguini and plump meatballs drenched in tomato sauce, she felt her appetite wane. “I don’t think they can fix it like that, Grammy, but Ashley will need surgery to remove the polyps in her uterus. The procedure is scheduled for next week.”

Maggie placed a basket of fragrant garlic bread in the center of the table. “She seemed mighty upset on the phone. I’m glad you went with her today, honey. It warms my heart to see you looking after your baby sister.”

“Unlike that rotten man of hers!” Grammy grunted, her cheeks still stuffed with meatball. “I’d like to get that boy on the phone and give him a piece of my mind!” She jabbed at the air with her sauce-stained fork.

“Have some salad, Ma.” Maggie slid a bowl of greens mixed with Italian dressing toward her mother-in-law. “Let’s give Lincoln the benefit of the doubt. I’m sure he didn’t figure on Ashley being scared about going to the doctor. After all, she’s never been afraid of anything except for spiders.” She sprinkled canned Parmesan cheese on top of her noodles. “I’m right sure Lincoln’ll be there for Ashley’s surgery. After all, she’ll need someone to drive her and look after her when she’s back at home.”

“You’ll see to it, won’t you, son?” Grammy turned to Earl. “That your daughter is taken care of by her man? He won’t make much of a daddy if he can’t take care of his wife.”

Earl pushed his plate away, slowly finished chewing, and folded his hands. “I don’t aim to interfere in either of my girls’ relationships.” He held up his finger to stop Grammy from interrupting. “But don’t you fear. I will make certain that Ashley has the help she needs during this time, even if I have to take off work to do it.” That being said, Earl pulled his dish back within reach and resumed the deliberate consumption of his supper.

“And what about you?” Grammy’s steely gaze settled on Cooper. “Any dates in your future? You haven’t been spendin’ as much time with that Nathan boy as I thought you would.”

“Nathan and I are seeing each other tomorrow. We’re going to visit an incarcerated drug dealer at the county jail. Now, if that doesn’t make him fall head over heels for me, I can’t imagine what will.”

If Cooper had been hoping to shock her grandmother, she failed entirely. Grammy’s only reaction was to shrug and reach for the garlic bread. “First you spend time packin’ food for a bunch of old coots and now you’re gonna hang out with the jailbirds.” She waved an aromatic heel of bread at Cooper. “And you wonder why you ain’t married?”

• • •

The next day, Cooper spent the commute into work praying for an extremely busy morning. She hoped to be so caught up in the business of collecting copiers from a large furniture chain undergoing bankruptcy that she could temporarily forget her plans to visit the local jail during her lunch hour.

Upon her return from the furniture store’s Southside location, she backed her van into one of Make It Work!’s garage bays to find Emilio waiting for her on the loading dock.

“Thought I’d give you a hand unloading. I know you can haul these big machines as well as any guy, but I can’t have you hurting yourself when I’m here to help.” His mouth split into a wide, confident grin, making it clear that he expected Cooper to respond to his charm.

Cooper gestured from the ramp attached to the back of the van to the heavy-duty hand truck parked against the side wall. “That’s nice of you, Emilio, but I’ve been loading and unloading copiers for years. I have a system.”

Emilio leaned against the van, crossed his arms so that his fists pushed his well-developed biceps into even larger masses, and snorted. “Fine, fine. I’m down with all that women’s lib stuff. If you want to be Miss Independent, I’ll just hang out and watch you do your thing.” He smiled again.

“Don’t you have shredders to empty?” Cooper asked as she pushed the hand truck up the ramp.

“I finished early so I thought I’d pick up the rest of the machines from that furniture warehouse with you. It’s so cool that the business has gone bankrupt. All that overpriced, ugly stuff will get sold for what it’s really worth. And I can’t stand their commercials, you know?” Emilio snorted derisively. “Every freaking football game I have to sit through five minutes listening to the Big, big sale! What a bunch of bull—”

“You’re right. Their ads are annoying.” Cooper pushed the edge of the hand truck under the first copier. “Still,” she grunted as she eased straps around the bulk of the machine, “dozens of people are going to lose their jobs because this chain is closing. And in this economy, it’s going to be tough to find new work.”

Emilio shrugged, unconcerned. “They’re always hiring at Burger King.”

Before Cooper had a chance to remark on her coworker’s lack of empathy, Angela arrived at the loading dock, her heels clicking a sharp staccato on the cement floor. “What are you two up to?” she demanded, eyeing Emilio with suspicion.

Cooper was too focused on maneuvering the copier down the ramp to be polite. “What does it look like? I’m unloading the van.”

Angela pretended to be hurt. “There’s no need to get huffy. I just want to take lunch orders.”

“Lunch? You’re on, beautiful!” Emilio sidled over to Angela and held out his arm. When Angela took it, he suddenly whisked her around so that she was facing him and began a spontaneous waltz across the floor. When they returned to where Cooper stood next to the empty hand truck, Emilio dipped Angela so low that her platinum-blonde bob swept the ground. Holding her there, he gazed into her eyes, smiled charmingly, and then kissed her lightly on the cheek.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the grace of a ballerina?” he whispered, gazing at Angela with what Cooper assumed was feigned devotion.

Over the top of Emilio’s bent head, Cooper noticed Mr. Farmer’s stocky shadow suddenly disappear from the doorway leading into the garage.

“You are too, too much! And lunch is my treat,” Angela cooed to Emilio, the look of adoration that had disappeared last week having instantly resurfaced in her eyes.

Disgusted, Cooper ignored the pair and finished emptying the last copier from the van.

I need to have a chat with Mr. Farmer, she thought. Or Angela will end up heartbroken. And broke.

• • •

“Nervous?” Nathan asked when Cooper met him outside the Henrico County Sheriff’s Office.

Cooper glanced at a small placard set into the grass near the sidewalk. It had an arrow pointing to a set of double glass doors and simply read: JAIL. Cooper stared at the sign and tried to control the feeling of nausea that had plagued her since she’d pulled into the visitor parking lot.

“I’m terrified. I’ve gotten my share of speeding tickets, but that’s as far on the wrong side of the law as I’ve been.” She observed the stream of lawyers, uniformed deputies, and civilians marching in and out the door. “This is like a city within the city. It’s kind of overwhelming.”

“You only have an hour, so we should probably go in,” Nathan prodded gently.

“You’re right.” Cooper sighed. “Normally, I’d have asked Angela to cover for me in case I ran late, but she and I aren’t very close these days. She’s too focused on Emilio.”

Nathan held the door open and Cooper entered the lobby, where a long line of people waited to sign up for visitation. Those at the front of the line were asked to present their driver’s license to the woman behind the counter. Relieved to have something to do while they waited, Cooper removed her license from her wallet.

Nathan playfully snatched it from her and examined her picture.

“Did you spend all day at the DMV?” He laughed. “You look seriously disgusted.”

Grinning, Cooper reclaimed her license. “Seconds before the DMV employee took my picture, this guy walked by me and passed the most noxious gas I’ve ever smelled. No matter what I said, the woman operating the camera wouldn’t do a retake.”

“Ah, government agencies.” Nathan swept his arm around the room and then shot Cooper an inquisitive look. “So who’s Emilio?”

“Our new coworker. Thinks he’s God’s gift to women, and apparently Angela agrees,” Cooper replied sourly.

Nathan nudged her as the line moved forward. “And you don’t?”

“No way. I prefer guys who collect Star Wars figures,” Cooper whispered and was pleased to see a flush of pleasure color Nathan’s cheeks.

All too soon, they arrived at the front of the line. “We’re here to see Edward Crosby,” Cooper informed the young woman seated at the desk, repeating the name Lali had given her over the phone.

Without glancing up from her computer, the sheriff’s office receptionist stated, “Your identification, please.” She typed so quickly that it looked like she was playing a challenging piece on a concert piano.

Nathan handed her their driver’s licenses and leaned over the tall desk in order to see exactly what she was typing. Scowling at Nathan, the woman returned their IDs and called out, “Next!”

“Um.” Cooper edged closer to the desk. “What do we do now?”

The woman signaled for the next person to step forward. “Wait until the deputy calls Edward Crosby.”

“But what if Mr. Crosby isn’t expecting us?” Cooper persisted.

“They never know who their visitors are,” the woman explained while the other visitors grumbled with impatience. “They’re just told they have a visitor and are brought to the visiting area.”

“So he might not talk to us,” Cooper said to Nathan. “After all, he doesn’t know us from Adam.”

Too flustered to sit down, they stood close to the check-in desk, listening as the next woman in line launched into a tirade after being informed that the inmate she wished to see had lost his visitation rights.

“He’s in isolation again? He told me that y’all are persecutin’ him! He shouldn’t be here in the first place. The man’s innocent!” The woman placed one hand on her hip and pounded on the receptionist’s desk with the other. Within seconds, a sheriff’s deputy appeared and, gently taking hold of the woman’s elbow, steered her away from the line. No matter how much she ranted at him, the deputy remained quietly courteous. He made several attempts to calmly and succinctly describe the infraction that had resulted in her boyfriend being placed in isolation, but the woman was incapable of listening. At last, she threw up her arms in disgust and stormed out the front door, leaving a trail of expletives in her wake.

“I couldn’t have handled that woman half as well as he did,” Nathan murmured to Cooper. “But I guess these guys have seen and heard it all.”

From the far left corner, a bass voice boomed out, “Edward Crosby!”

Nathan grabbed Cooper’s hand and pulled her to the other side of the room.

A brawny deputy holding a clipboard gestured at them to follow him. As they entered the long, narrow room filled with twenty cubicles, the deputy pointed at the fourth chair facing the room-length wall of glass. “Thirty minutes,” he said and then turned to collect more visitors.

Cooper took a moment to digest the significance of the large glass wall, the mounted black telephone handset, and the empty chair on the other side of the wall. Feeling very ill at ease, she glanced at the cameras jutting out from the ceiling corners and the baby stroller parked behind the cubicle at the very end of the row. Behind her, a toddler began to push two Matchbox cars across the carpet while his mother hissed into the phone at a young man wearing a blank expression.

A buzzer sounded and a diminutive Hispanic man wearing white scrubs entered the room from a hallway obscured from view. His face immediately broke into a jubilant smile when his wife held a sleeping infant up to the glass. The man held up an index finger to his son’s face, making it clear that he longed to stroke the soft skin. As he gazed at the baby, his smile dissipated and was replaced by an expression of sorrow and regret. His wife shifted their son to her right arm and, after picking up the handset with her left, began to release a torrent of Spanish into the phone. The man wouldn’t meet her eyes. He rubbed the tattoo on his forearm, stretching the black script “Rosa,” which was enclosed by a circle of red, thorny flowers. Beneath the largest bloom was the name Alfonso. Multihued sun rays and a soaring eagle surrounded the name of his infant son.

While Cooper continued to absorb her surroundings, an elderly African-American woman entered the room and was seated in the neighboring cubicle.

“You sure I can’t give Dwayne his glasses?” she asked the deputy directing her to the correct chair. “My boy likes to read right much, but he can’t see without his glasses.”

“I’ll send them to medical, ma’am. If they think he needs them, he’ll get them,” the deputy assured her.

“Please tell them to hurry. He can’t even read his Bible.” She fiddled with her purse, her eyes growing moist. “If he’d only taken the commandments to heart, he wouldn’t be here in the first place!”

Cooper stared at the concerned mother until a Caucasian man in his mid-thirties wearing beige scrubs entered the inmates’ side of the room. He looked around, perplexed, and passed his palm over his buzz cut until the deputy on duty directed him to the cubicle where Cooper was supposed to be sitting.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Nathan whispered from behind Cooper’s shoulder. “There’s only room for one person in that cubbyhole.”

Cooper waved off his offer with a grateful smile and then took a seat in the rose-colored chair. Removing the black phone from its cradle, she met Edward Crosby’s confused gaze. Slowly, he lowered himself into his chair and picked up his handset.

“Who are you?” he demanded tersely, studying her face as though he wanted to capture it forever in his memory.

The intensity of his stare almost made Cooper flinch, but she squeezed the handset instead and the firmness of the cold metal calmed her. “I’m a volunteer with Door-2-Door Dinners. Your daddy got his meals from them. I . . . I saw him just a few days before he died.”

Grief flashed in the man’s gunmetal gray eyes but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “So? What do you want from me?”

“First, I want to offer my condolences. I only met your daddy once but . . .” Cooper searched for something nice to say about Frank Crosby, but nothing came to mind.

“He didn’t impress you much, did he? When you showed up, he was probably sitting around in his skivvies, watching football on that piece-of-crap TV, and going off about yellow this and yellow that. Nobody’s going to miss the guy. So I’ll ask you again. What do you want?”

Cooper had known that Frank’s son might not be overwrought by his father’s death, but Edward’s callousness moved her to anger. “Whatever he did or didn’t do, he was still your father, Edward, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t you ever call me by that name!” A palm slapped against the glass in front of her face and Cooper let loose a startled cry. “My name is the Colonel. You got that? The Colonel! Now say it!”

“The Colonel,” Cooper whispered, her heart in her throat.

The belligerence seeped from the Colonel’s face and he relaxed in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “The old man is dead. Not much I can do about it.” He bowed his head and began to rub the stubble. Cooper noticed that the flag of Dixie had been tattooed across the width of his scalp. “Me and the old man weren’t exactly tight. And since you didn’t know him at all, why are you sitting in that chair?”

“Your daddy’s death was suspicious. Did anyone tell you that?”

The Colonel looked bored. “Probably overdosed on some meds. Lots of old farts do that. Can’t read the label or they do it on purpose because they’re ready to check out. End of story.”

“Frank wasn’t on any medication,” Cooper said tersely. “And someone has been poisoning Door-2-Door clients and then stealing from them. This person is probably a volunteer. I’m here to ask you what valuables could have been taken from your daddy’s house. He was very upset about a ‘secret’ being stolen.” Cooper leaned toward the glass. “He acted like his heart was broken when he discovered that this thing was missing. He was completely inconsolable. Do you know what it was?”

The Colonel waited until the inmate two chairs over murmured a cryptic good-bye to the woman with the toddler. The child turned away from his toy cars and began to wail, giant tears rolling down his cheeks as the man disappeared into the unseen depths of the jail.

“Some whack job is taking out old folks?” The Colonel’s gray eyes narrowed. “That ain’t right. Me? I sell drugs. But I don’t sell to kids or to pregnant women. There are still rules. I sell to losers and punks who can’t stay off the stuff. It’s easy money and I was no good at school, so I made my choice.” His eyes turned cold. “The old man knew what I did. Told me a millions times that I brought shame on our house. He was big into shame.”

Cooper shifted her grip on the phone. “What do you mean?”

“Some relative who fought in the Civil War acted like a pansy and Frank never got over it. Read everything he could about the guy and the battles he was in. Waste of fu—” He cut himself off, passing his palm over his head while his mouth turned down in a grimace. “Look. We ain’t seen each other for years, but the old man had this soldier’s sword and some special book. A diary or something. He kept the sword in his closet. He liked to take it out now and again. Polish it up and stuff.”

Glancing at her watch, Cooper noted that her time with the Colonel was quickly running out. “I guess a sword from the Civil War could be valuable.”

“Damn straight it was!” the Colonel spat indignantly. “I could’ve used that money. Could’ve started my own business! A legit business. I had a killer idea but I needed start-up cash. Would the old man give it to me? No. So I found my own way to make money. He didn’t even post my bail when I landed in here the first time.” He pounded the counter in front of him. “Screw this trip down memory lane.” The deputy monitoring the inmates rose to his feet, casting a fierce glance at the Colonel.

“Sorry, Sergeant.” The Colonel held up his arms in submission and the deputy issued a curt nod and then resumed his seat, his gaze still fixed on their cubicle.

Cooper heard a whisper from the bench behind her back.

“You still okay?” Nathan asked.

She nodded, never breaking eye contact with the Colonel. “I’m sorry to bring up bad memories,” she told him sincerely. “But I hope you understand that I can’t sit by while someone harms innocent seniors.”

The Colonel indicated that he understood her motivation by jerking his thumb in the air. “That’s right. There are rules,” he muttered. “There are things you just don’t do, no matter how bad it gets.”

Grateful for his affirmation, Cooper asked, “Do you know where he kept the diary?”

The Colonel shook his head at first, but then closed his eyes and absently rubbed his head back and forth in a hypnotizing rhythm. Cooper felt that he was walking through his father’s house as a boy, not as the incarcerated drug trafficker he had become.

“I bet it’s in my mama’s rocker,” the Colonel said, suddenly raising his head. “Nasty old cushioned thing that I could never sit on. Even our damn cat couldn’t go on there, which never made sense, seeing as it was all ripped and stained anyhow. I never saw the book. I only heard about it when I got one of Frank’s lectures about honor.” He shrugged. “If it ain’t there, then it’s gone. Feel free to poke around the place. The lock on the back door’s been broken since I was a kid. I doubt the old man bothered to fix it.”

Retrieving a small pad of paper from her purse, Cooper wrote “check rocking chair for diary” on the first line and then held her pen aloft.

“Was he always . . . freaked out by the color yellow?”

“Wasn’t allowed in the house. Ever.” The Colonel scowled. “How’d you like to grow up with a nutcase like that?”

Ignoring the question, Cooper pointed at the bench behind her. “My friend Nathan told me it might take eight weeks to get the lab results detailing which drug poisoned your daddy. If I told you the symptoms, do you think you could identify the drug?”

The Colonel laughed. “I’m a dealer, lady, not a damn pharmacist. I know how to make people feel good. I know how to make them forget their pain. But I don’t sample my own products.” He leaned back in his chair in a posture of superiority. “That’s just stupid.”

“Frank was experiencing short-term memory loss. He seemed really anxious and confused,” Cooper plodded on. “He lost a whole day just sitting in his chair and he thinks he saw someone go into his bedroom.”

“Time’s up, Crosby!” The deputy stood up from behind the desk again.

Cooper placed her hand against the glass. “Please!” she pleaded into the phone. “If you could just give me an educated guess.”

“Could be ecstasy,” the Colonel replied and stood. “You find out, let me know. Maybe I could expand my product line.” He winked at her.

Ignoring the barb, Cooper removed her hand from the glass. “I’ll write you if we discover anything. I promise.”

For the first time, a glimmer of something resembling hope entered the Colonel’s eyes. “That’d be the first promise someone hasn’t broken, then,” he replied, hung up the phone, and strutted from the room.

Cooper and Nathan left the visitors’ room and crossed through the boisterous lobby and out into the October air. Standing in the shadow of the building, Cooper suddenly realized that Frank Crosby’s son seemed every bit as friendless and alone as his father had been. The thought made her deeply sad.

In the parking lot, Cooper reached for Nathan. She buried her head against his neck and listened to his melodious baritone as he prayed for Edward Crosby. She’d never heard him pray aloud before, and the intimacy of this act, of his sharing his concerns for a complete stranger while she listened in silence, was incredibly moving.

Such a good man has been placed in my path, Cooper thought and held on to Nathan until finally, time forced her to let go.

12

Following her visit with the Colonel, Cooper called an emergency meeting of the Sunrise Bible Study. Savannah led a couples group on Wednesday, so they were unable to congregate right away, and since both Quinton and Bryant had professional commitments on Thursday, they couldn’t meet until Friday evening. Nathan suggested they share a meal at Cracker Barrel because their unusual conversation was unlikely to be overheard at the noisy eatery.

Quinton and Trish were contentedly established in two of the rockers on Cracker Barrel’s verandah when Cooper arrived. Having come straight from work, she was still in her Make It Work! uniform and felt underdressed in comparison to her friends. Trish looked like a coiffed cardinal in a bright red suit, white blouse, and black heels, while Quinton was elegantly attired in a checked blazer, a royal blue button-down, and dark brown pants. An ironed handkerchief peeked from his front jacket pocket in four perfectly folded points.

“Aren’t you dapper?” Cooper smiled at him. Trish wiggled her fingers in greeting but then returned her attention to her mobile phone.

“I told you, dear.” Trish turned her body away from Cooper and Quinton. “I’ll reschedule when I have time. It’s probably just a calcium deposit or a cyst. Anyway, I have two open houses this weekend and I’m closing on the Bowers house and the Markus estate tomorrow.” She frowned. “Just get the girls to their piano lessons before they’re late and let me worry about my doctor’s appointments.” She said good-bye and put her phone away with a sigh.

Cooper and Quinton exchanged uncomfortable glances and were relieved to see Bryant and Nathan appear at the end of the row of rockers.

Bryant bowed gallantly and helped Trish from her chair. “You should take his advice, milady,” he said. “If you’re talking about a lump then there’s no time to waste.”

Trish opened her mouth to issue a curt reply, but before she had the chance, a car pulled into the handicapped space right in front of them. Savannah emerged from the passenger seat, her cane clicking on the asphalt as she stood up, still holding on to the open car door.

Jake was at her side in a flash, ready to guide her onto the porch. “Thank you for driving me, Pearl, I’ll see you Monday.” Savannah waved at her housekeeper and held out her arm to Jake.

The group entered the restaurant, wading their way through spinner racks of candy, Halloween decorations, and old-fashioned toys toward the hostess station. By some miracle, they only had to wait fifteen minutes for a table.

“I’m going to get the Country Boy Breakfast.” Jake rubbed his work-worn hands together with glee. “Three eggs, pork chops, some grits, Sawmill gravy, fried apples, hash-brown casserole, and buttermilk biscuits. That should keep me until morning.”

“There’s always the chocolate pudding pie if you have room,” Quinton said.

After their hostess had seated them at a large wooden table in the corner of the dining room, Cooper flipped to the menu’s breakfast page. “Jake, you’ve got me craving pecan pancakes and bacon.”

“I was going to order the meat loaf, but now I’ll have Eggs-in-the-Basket instead. See how I crumble in the face of peer pressure.” Nathan chuckled. “Let’s get a big carafe of decaf and start our day all over again.”

“No, thank you.” Bryant looked horrified by the idea. “That grad student I was dating a few months ago has turned into a psychotic stalker. She weaseled her way into the studio today by introducing herself to everyone as my fiancée. If it weren’t for Paige, my deranged ex would have jumped right in front of the blue screen with me!”

“Paige is a single mom, remember? That grad student is no match for her!” Trish said after the waitress had taken their order.

Bryant’s eyes glimmered as he described how Paige had handled the situation. “She was firm, but really sweet at the same time. She gave the girl a hug, told her to find someone who was available and that lots of guys would kill to date someone as lovely and intelligent as her, and then walked her to the door. By the time she kicked her out, my ex was hugging her like Paige was her best friend.” He shrugged in befuddlement. “Women.”

“I told you Paige sounded like a great catch!” Trish looked smug. “She’s a woman, not a girl. That’s what you need, Bryant.”

“Yeah. Mother, career woman, and bouncer. What more could you want?” Quinton teased as he poured three sugar packets into his coffee cup.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Bryant said to Trish. “I’ll ask Paige to join me on a weekend getaway with the kids just as soon as you’ve rescheduled your doctor’s appointment.” He reached over and took her hand. “A lump could be serious. Assuming that it’s nothing could be a big mistake and I’m only being a nag because I care about you.”

Trish shifted in her chair. Stacking several unopened creamers on her butter plate, she blinked innocently and said, “I could have already been to the imaging center for all you know.”

Bryant eyed her keenly. “I heard the tail end of your phone call and I’ve been married enough times to guess that you were being nagged by your husband. He means well, Trish. And he’s right. You need to schedule an appointment right away. Now, shake on our deal.” He held out his hand and Trish reluctantly accepted it.

“Okay, Cooper.” Jake gestured at her with his coffee cup. “What’s going on?”

Cooper told her friends about her visit with the Colonel. They listened carefully, their coffees growing cold as she described his appearance and attitude. Cooper had just finished describing Frank Crosby’s Civil War artifacts when their food arrived.

Jake sprinkled salt over his plate and then zealously carved into his pork chop. Simultaneously, Quinton drowned his French toast in a puddle of warm maple syrup while Savannah covered a piece of toast with a thick layer of apple butter. Bryant cut his smoked sausage patties into equivalent chunks and then looked up at Cooper. “Go on and take a bite. Cold pancakes aren’t very tasty.”

“I’ll finish for her,” Nathan volunteered as Cooper ate. In between bites of egg sandwich, Nathan explained how the Colonel said that ecstasy could have been the drug used to cause his father’s overdose.

“I just can’t imagine any of the Door-2-Door volunteers walking around with ecstasy.” Trish shook her head in disbelief. “I thought—not that I know much about illegal drugs—that ecstasy was a party drug. Something the rich, club-going crowds take.” She patted Bryant’s arm playfully. “And I’m not taking a potshot at you for hanging out at those places with your twenty-something girlfriends, either.”

“Thanks.” Bryant smiled ruefully. “But I think you’re on the money about the drug’s reputation. I remember when a few of our investigative reporters went undercover to learn more about ecstasy. They learned that popping these pills was the hip thing to do at concerts, dance clubs, or raves. It’s called a designer drug because it’s supposed to give you a high that can go on for days.”

“I read about it online,” Cooper said. “Ecstasy, or E, or X can give people hallucinations and create short-term memory loss. Ecstasy is also available in powder form, so it’d be easy to mix with food or dissolve into a liquid, like Mr. Crosby’s hot tea.”

Savannah put down her triangle of toast. “We need to have a more intimate gathering with our volunteer friends.”

“That’s where we arrive at the emergency part of this meeting.” Cooper hesitated and then pressed on. “I want to go into Frank’s house to search for the sword and the diary. If our villain tries to sell those things, we should be able to catch him. Or her. They’ll have to be consigned to a local auction or antique store or sold using an online auction site. If the diary contains the name of the soldier, then searching for the items will be much easier.”

“Why don’t you just tell the police about the diary?” Trish asked. “They can monitor eBay and interview Richmond-area antique dealers. Why don’t we let them do their job?”

Cooper shrugged. Trish made a fair point. “If the diary’s there, I’ll read it and hand it over to the police. I guess I’d like to know what caused Mr. Crosby such anguish in regard to the sword. I want to know the secret about his relative, because it ruined his relationship with his son and created this irrational hatred of the color yellow.”

“You know what they say about curiosity,” Quinton warned. “Sorry, Cooper, but I’m with Trish on this one. You may have discovered an important clue, and that’s great, but let the people experienced in these things figure out what to do with it. Like Savannah said, we should concentrate on the volunteers.”

Jake nodded. “If this slimeball is hoarding the stolen loot at home or knows other scumbags to hawk for him, we’re not going to find those things anyway.”

Cooper ate the rest of her meal in silence. She knew that her friends were right and that she should turn matters over to the police, but after talking to the Colonel she felt that she owed it to him to find some answers.

After filling their stomachs, the Sunrise members settled their bill and made their way outside.

“I’ll see you all at Door-2-Door tomorrow. Try to talk to the volunteers as much as you can while you work. See how they interact with the clients. Watch where they go inside the house if they suddenly separate from you,” Savannah advised as she accepted Jake’s arm. “I hope to have some information to share with you come Sunday morning. Jake and I are calling on Leo Saturday night.”

“You’re a brave woman,” Bryant said.

Jake scowled. “Hey, I’ll be there, too, remember?”

“With your vanload of pipes!” Trish laughed.

The friends exchanged good nights and dispersed, but Cooper and Nathan lingered behind.

“What’s on your mind?” Nathan asked, slipping his arm around Cooper’s waist.

Cooper looked into his kind brown eyes. “I know that letting the police look for the Civil War stuff in Frank’s house is the right decision, but I just can’t hand it over without seeing it for myself. I want to understand the man who died. I want to be able to give his son some answers. I promised that I’d keep him updated, and it feels wrong to just pass the buck and leave him hanging.” She stepped back and declared, “I’m going over there tonight. To Frank’s house.”

Nathan didn’t reply right away, but his expression betrayed his internal conflict. He searched her face for a few moments and then, finally, he nodded. “You aren’t going alone.”

“We can take my car.” Cooper smiled gratefully. “I have two flashlights in my toolbox.”

• • •

They drove to Frank’s house without speaking, letting the easy-listening station fill the silence. As they headed east on the interstate, Cooper noted a bank of ominous thunderclouds in her rearview mirror. She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as the memory of her dream of being caught on the rushing river toward a deadly storm returned to her with fresh intensity.

Unlike in her dream, however, Cooper was moving away from the storm at a rapid pace. Still, she knew that once they reached Frank’s house and spent time searching inside for the sword and diary, it wouldn’t take long for the cloud mass to catch up.

Feeling on edge, Cooper gazed out at the blue-black highway, trying not to pay attention to how much the road resembled a meandering river or that the dark trees encroaching toward the shoulder looked awfully similar to the sinister pines from her nightmare.

By the time she brought her truck to a stop two blocks away from Frank Crosby’s sad white house, a persistent breeze had sprung to life, carrying with it the scent of rain. Cooper retrieved the flashlights and she and Nathan walked hurriedly toward the house, looking over their shoulders as they advanced. Nathan headed straight for the front door, but Cooper grabbed his arm and shook her head.

“No. Around back.”

Nathan followed her through the overgrown grass bordering the chain-link fence dividing Frank’s property from the adjacent house. As they passed between the two bungalows, Cooper noted the illuminated window on the side of the next-door neighbor’s home. The consistent flickering light and intermittent sounds of canned laughter suggested that its occupants were watching television. Based on the volume of the set, Cooper felt confident that there was little chance the neighbors would overhear any activity taking place inside Frank’s house.

The warped wooden planks of the staircase leading up to the back door creaked when Cooper stepped on them. Flinching at the noise, she reached out and turned the flaking brass knob. It rotated, but the door remained firmly closed.

“Is it locked?” Nathan whispered.

Cooper tried the knob again. “I don’t think so. I can turn it clockwise as far as it can go, but the door is stuck to the frame—like it was painted shut.”

“Let me give it a shot.”

Stepping back onto the grass, Cooper watched as Nathan leaned his right shoulder against the door. Holding the knob with his left hand, he slammed his weight against the door. “Ow,” he muttered and then repeated the motion again.

Cooper glanced around nervously. To the west, a curtain of lightning set the sky aglow and then quickly disappeared. A fat raindrop fell onto the crown of her head as Nathan paused to rest.

“I’ve almost got it. Let me try something different.” He placed his foot in the center of the door and gave it a mighty kick. The warped wood splintered at the top corner, the door gave way, and Nathan practically fell forward into the house.

Stale air rushed from inside as they hustled into the shadowy kitchen. Cooper switched on her flashlight and moved around Frank’s metal table and folding chairs, keeping the beam of light pointed at the floor. Even in the minimal brightness it was apparent that every cabinet, drawer, and shelf had been rifled through.

“This place is a mess.” Nathan stepped over a saucepan. “I’d hate to have the cops search my house.”

“They’d probably knock all your action figures out of alphabetical order and damage the original packaging,” Cooper said in a lame attempt at levity. “You’d be in therapy for years.”

She led Nathan from the kitchen to the bedroom, frowning as her flashlight revealed an unmade bed covered with crumpled clothes. A putrid odor filled the room, and Cooper wondered when any of the linens or clothes had last been washed.

“It smells like a men’s locker room in here,” Nathan commented. “I don’t see a rocker. Come on, we should go.”

Cooper grabbed his arm. “Not so fast. The Colonel told me that Frank kept the Civil War sword in his closet.” She passed Nathan the flashlight. “Hold this while I look through these clothes.”

As Cooper rooted through soiled garments and mud-encrusted shoes, she wished she’d thought to bring the work gloves from her toolbox. Every time she shifted a mound of clothes, the stench of spoiled food and body odor assailed her nostrils. In any case, her search was in vain. There was no sword hidden on the floor or among the two moth-holed sweaters or the outdated blazer hanging limply from the wooden rod. The single shelf above the rod contained a few shoe boxes filled with random objects such as yellowed postcards, clip-on ties, Christmas tree ornaments, a belt with cracked brown leather, and an assortment of old magazines.

“The sword is definitely gone.” Cooper backed out of the closet and exited the bedroom. She passed the only bathroom, relieved that there was no need to search there, and returned to the front room, where she’d met Frank Crosby for the first and only time.

She stared at the chair where he’d taken his last breath and noticed a folded newspaper on the floor beneath the seat’s right arm. Bending over, she picked up the page containing the comic strips and word puzzles and saw that the crossword was incomplete. The empty boxes seemed to emphasize the vacant house and the sudden absence of its owner. As she stared at the newspaper in reflective silence, the rain began to patter lightly, almost timidly, against the window and Cooper wished that it would fall with a violence forceful enough to mask her sniffles.

Nathan squeezed her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” she said without turning toward him.

Composing herself, Cooper made her way to the television set in the corner of the room. The appliance sat on top of a scratched bureau. Next to the chest was a chairlike shape covered by a multicolored afghan. Cooper whipped the blanket from the rocker and beckoned for Nathan to bring the light closer.

She pressed her fingertips into the floral fabric, ignoring the layer of dust as she worked her way across the seat. Finding nothing, she and Nathan upended the rocker and discovered a four-inch piece of brown packing tape covering the upholstery across the back of the chair. Cooper eased the tape away and slipped her hand inside the rent in the material. As she reached deeper, her fingers brushed against a hard edge. The tear grew wider and she winced, but the damage allowed her to grasp the hidden book and pull it free from its spring and fiber prison.

“This is it.” Cooper exhaled. She examined the parcel, which was wrapped in a thin yellow towel.

“That must be the only yellow thing in this house,” Nathan said.

Cooper unfolded the towel, revealing the brown leather cover of a small book. She opened to the first page and read the fluid black script: “The Diary of First Lieutenant Aaron Crosby.”

“You did it!” Nathan reached for the book. “Here. I’ll put it down my shirt so it doesn’t get wet. Now, let’s get out of this place before the storm hits.”

Together, they hastened from the house, closing the back door as firmly as possible. Despite the splintered wood, the door seemed to fit in its frame as firmly as before. For some inexplicable reason, Cooper was reassured by the fact that Frank’s house wouldn’t be exposed to rain or other intrusions for the time being.

The flickering light from behind the next-door neighbor’s curtained window echoed the lightning flashes above the roofs. Crouching low, Nathan and Cooper sprinted toward her truck as the rain intensified.

“What the—!” Cooper shouted, coming to an abrupt halt next to her truck.

She gaped in shock as she read the words painted onto her door. The message was quickly vanishing. The rain splashed against her truck, was mutating each letter, erasing the threat.

Both Cooper and Nathan had been able to see the message before it disappeared.

SEEK & DIE

“Someone was watching us,” Cooper whispered in dread.

And then the rain began to fall. Overhead, the night sky filled with black, roiling clouds.

• • •

Nathan insisted on driving Cooper directly to his house.

The trip to his downtown row house passed in a blur. Vacillating between rage and fear, Cooper couldn’t think straight. Her hands were shaking and she would have killed for a cigarette, but she’d given up smoking months ago.

Twenty minutes later, she stood mute in Nathan’s living room, squeezing moisture from the ends of her hair. “If we were in a movie, I’d be offering you a glass of brandy and forcing you to drink it.” Nathan opened a small cabinet next to the fireplace. “But my bar’s not that well stocked.”

Cooper sank down on the couch and listened to the clanking of bottles and the clinking of ice cubes hitting glass. Nathan handed her a tumbler.

“It’s whiskey. Just a shot’s worth, but it’ll help with the shock.”

Numbly, Cooper swallowed the contents. The alcohol burned a trail down her throat, warming the pit of her stomach and allowing her to gain control over the tremors moving through her body.

Gently, Nathan pried the tumbler from her hands and pulled her to him. At first, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, saying nothing, but then he began to stroke her hair. When he kissed her on the smooth skin of her forehead, she raised her lips and captured his in her own.

Nathan’s response was light and tender, but Cooper kissed him hungrily, opening her mouth greedily while pressing her body against his chest.

He pulled back and took both of her hands in his. Cooper looked away, embarrassed by her behavior. The threat painted on her truck was stirring so many emotions that she didn’t know how to react.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I think I just wanted to get lost with you for a moment, to avoid facing what just happened.”

Nathan reached behind his head and, grabbing a chenille throw, wrapped it around Cooper’s shoulders. “Come here,” he whispered and Cooper nestled against his chest. “Do you want to talk about the message?”

“It scares me,” Cooper whispered. “And infuriates me. The killer we’re supposed to be tracking knows our every move. We thought we were collecting clues, but this person’s probably been one step ahead of us the whole time.” She frowned. “How can we stop someone like that?”

Nathan gazed down at her. “For starters, we don’t let him get to us. We’re not going to be put off by some threat written in paint. I’m going to brew some coffee and then we’ll check out the diary you found. Tomorrow, you’ll turn it over to the police. Whoever wrote that threat will be back at Door-2-Door on Saturday . . .”

“So we need to ask all the volunteers where they were tonight. Then, we can narrow down the suspect list,” Cooper finished his thought.

“Exactly.” Nathan tucked a lock of hair behind Cooper’s ear. “As for tonight, I think you should stay here. I don’t want you to be alone after what’s happened. You take my bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa. The only way I’ll get any shut-eye is by knowing that you’re safe, so do this for me.”

Cooper gestured at her damp uniform shirt on her lap. “Okay, but I’ll have to put this in the dryer. It’s soaked. And I’m going to have to drive home pretty early to change or everyone’ll wonder why I’m showing up at Door-2-Door dressed for work!”

“Why don’t you take a hot shower? I’ll brew some decaf, start a load of wash, and lay out a pair of my pajamas for you.” Nathan smiled. “I’ll even make you one of my famous omelets in the morning.”

Laughing, Cooper opened the blanket and invited him to share its warmth. “What woman could resist that offer?” The pair sat in silence for a moment before Cooper said, “I’m so grateful you were with me tonight, Nathan. If you weren’t there, I would have been really frightened. For some reason, I feel like nothing bad can happen when you’re with me.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to be with you all the time.” He gazed at her tenderly, kissed her lightly, and then jerked his thumb toward the stairs. “Now, get in the shower. I have lots of work to do.”

13

When the Sunrise group gathered in Door-2-Door’s kitchen on Saturday morning, they were all grateful to be out of the cold and damp. It had been raining since dawn and the precipitation was tinged with a winter’s chill that drove the volunteers directly to the coffee station.

Following Quinton’s suggestion, each of the Bible study members made plans to ride with a volunteer they hadn’t talked with much. Cooper chose Erik, the retired principal with a penchant for lake fishing and online gambling.

“Can we take your car? I’m a bit low on gas,” Cooper told him once their coolers were packed.

“Sure thing,” Erik replied amiably. Even though Cooper was half his age, he insisted on pushing the cart bearing the coolers and Sunday food boxes down the steep loading ramp.

Outside, the rain pecked at their exposed skin while they filled the backseat of Erik’s SUV. As Cooper opened the door to the passenger side, anticipating the dry warmth of the car’s interior, she nearly sat on a bouquet of pink carnations arranged in a cushion of purple tissue paper. Luckily, Erik snatched them out of harm’s way in the nick of time and gently laid them on the floor of the backseat

“Those flowers are lovely,” Cooper said, hoping to discover who they were intended for, but Erik deflected her question by complaining about the weather and the astronomical price of gas.

“Over three bucks a gallon!” He shook his head in disgust. “Drives up the price of everything else, too. Food. Services. Our heating bills are going to shoot through the roof over the next couple of months.” He waved at a driver looking to change lanes. “I remember when my cost of living was half what it is now and I had a salary back then. Now I just have my pension.”

“Is that enough to live on these days?” Cooper asked as casually as possible.

Erik shrugged. “I do okay. My house is paid off, so I don’t have to worry about a mortgage anymore. I’m pretty handy and that keeps me from having to write checks to the repair man.” He sighed. “I don’t spend much on my hobbies, either, but I’ll be buying gas for my boat even if it goes to five bucks a gallon.”

“I can guess what one of your hobbies is.” Cooper gestured out the water-splattered windshield at the fishing pole holders strapped to the front of Erik’s SUV. “What are the others? I could use some cheap hobbies. I’ve gotten totally addicted to pedicures.”

“Well, I can’t say that’s one of mine.” Erik laughed. “I like to play poker on the Internet. It’s free. I know there are sites where you can pay to play, but I certainly wouldn’t waste good money on a card game where I can’t see the other players’ faces.” Erik parked at their first delivery stop. “I guess Door-2-Door is a hobby. I’ve been doing this since I retired. Only costs some gas and time, and I’ve worked for my community my whole life, so it feels right to continue.”

“You seem to really like this route, too.” Cooper watched Erik carefully for his reaction. Although he hopped out of the truck to retrieve one of the coolers, he couldn’t disguise the rush of blood tingeing his cheeks red.

“Nice folks on this route,” he murmured cryptically.

They delivered a meal to a Mrs. Lockhart, who lived in a tidy one-bedroom apartment off Broad Street. Mrs. Lockhart was in high spirits and informed Erik and Cooper that her son and daughter-in-law were relocating to Richmond and had invited her to live with them.

“I won’t be needing Door-2-Door much longer,” she told them proudly and then reached out to Erik. “But I’ll miss seeing you. You’ve always been so kind to me.”

Erik squeezed the old woman’s hand. “I’m glad to lose you to your family. We need to move on now, ma’am. You take care of yourself, you hear?”

At least that’ll be one less client for the Door-2-Door killer to prey on, Cooper thought with relief, hoping that Mrs. Lockhart’s son would relocate his mother with alacrity.

During the next three stops, Erik conducted his deliveries with polite efficiency and Cooper realized that even though he’d stuck with the same route for over a year, he wasn’t exactly on intimate terms with the clients.

I don’t think he’s the one, she thought. The murderer has to know these folks well enough to learn about their valuables. Erik isn’t big on small talk.

Cooper was a bit surprised by the route Erik chose in order to reach their final stop. Though she wasn’t overly familiar with Richmond’s East Side, her sense of direction was keen enough to recognize that Erik had doubled back, practically passing right by their second stop, in order to pull into the gravel driveway of a light blue ranch-style home.

The house looked very well kept compared to most of the other clients’ residences. The lawn was meticulously trimmed and free of weeds, the bushes lining the front path were neatly pruned, and it looked like someone had recently polished the brass knocker and kick plate on the front door until they shone.

Tucking the remaining food box under his arm, Erik asked Cooper to carry the cooler. He then removed the bouquet from his backseat and cradled the flowers in his free hand. Whistling as he walked up the front path, Erik gave a proprietary glance around the yard. He knocked jauntily three times on the front door and then let himself in without waiting for an invitation.

“Is that our knight in shining armor?” a woman’s voice called from within.

Erik was smiling widely. “Yes, milady. ’Tis me!”

“We’re on the sunporch, watching the rain fall,” a second female voice said.

Beckoning Cooper to follow, Erik set the food down in the kitchen and then, hiding the flowers behind his back, hustled through the living room to the narrow sunporch where the two women awaited him. Though both females were slight of figure and had thick, bobbed white hair, there was an obvious age difference between the two. They produced identical smiles when Erik entered the room and there was no way to miss the brightness illuminating his features.

“Cooper, this is Velma Crick.” Erik gestured at the older woman, who was probably in her early eighties. “And this is her sister, Violet.” He spoke the other woman’s name with unconcealed affection. Cooper noted that Violet was at least a decade younger than Velma.

“Someone’s brought a surprise!” Velma cooed.

Erik produced the carnations with a flourish and handed them to Violet. “To the most beautiful flower in Richmond.”

Violet giggled and thanked Erik effusively. After offering the volunteers tea, which they accepted, Violet and Velma told them to make themselves comfortable.

Watching Erik as he complimented the sisters on their tea, the china cups, and the shade of their sweater sets, Cooper felt like an intruder. After several moments of ordinary conversation, Velma insinuated that the sink in their bathroom seemed to be leaking from the faucet base and Erik leapt up to examine the problem.

“I’d better show you,” Violet said with a mischievous smile and she and Erik crept from the room like a pair of teenagers up to no good.

“That man is right smitten!” Velma cackled. “Our house has never been in such fine shape.”

That explained Erik’s bizarre route. He saved this house for last in order to spend the most time here. There was no doubt he was on intimate terms with both occupants, but Cooper believed that he had absolutely no intention of hurting these women. Erik was obviously in love with Violet.

“How long has he felt this way?” Cooper asked.

“Ever since he stepped foot inside this house over a year ago. Our middle sister, Vera, still lived here then, but she’s had to go into a home. We couldn’t take care of her anymore.” Velma’s face creased in sorrow. She gestured at a collection of framed photographs on a nearby table. “Doesn’t even know us most days. It’s a right shame.” She leaned forward and stared at Cooper’s face. “You have lovely eyes, young lady.”

“Thank you.” Cooper moved to the table and examined the photographs. Mostly black and white, the photos depicted three lovely young women in a variety of hometown settings. The sisters posed in cheerleader outfits in what was likely their high school gym, showed off ice-cream sundaes at an old-fashioned soda fountain, and posed gracefully at skating rinks, bowling alleys, and from the leather seat of a Mustang convertible. Cooper’s favorite shot was of the sisters dressed in their holiday finest, planting kisses on the cheeks of a delighted Santa Claus. None of the photographs showed the sisters in their old age—it was as if their youth was all that mattered. The time when they were all together.

The sound of muted laughter tripped down the hall. “They’re so sweet,” Cooper whispered to Velma.

“I told her to go on and marry the man, but she won’t leave me.” Velma clucked her tongue. “He’s even bought her a ring. Showed it to me once. It’s a single amethyst. Not very fancy, but lovely. It’d suit my sister perfectly and so would he.”

“Couldn’t he . . .” Cooper hesitated to interfere.

“Move in with us?” Velma completed Cooper’s thought. “I’ve suggested that, too, trust me. We all get along like a gaggle of geese and I’m too old to be jealous of Violet’s happiness.” She pointed down the hall. “He’s already doing most of the chores around here. We pay for our Door-2-Door meals,” Velma added proudly. “But if we had a man to run to the store for us, Violet would start cooking again and her food is miles better that what you bring. No offense intended.”

“None taken.” Cooper gave Velma a quick bow. “What’s your sister’s objection to his moving in?”

Velma stirred her tepid tea. “She’s afraid it’s not proper. That she’d be breaking her wedding vows, but her man’s been under the ground for two years and he never treated her like he should have, anyhow, so I don’t know why she’s letting him hold her back. Now Erik, he’s a good man.”

At that moment, Erik and Violet reentered the room. Violet declared that the sink was fixed and that once again, she and her sister were in his debt.

“I’d do anything to make sure your days were filled with ease,” Erik whispered to Violet. They exchanged tender smiles, and then Erik bent over and kissed her hand. After giving Velma a chaste peck on her wrinkled cheek, he and Cooper bid the ladies farewell.

“Velma approves of your marrying her sister,” Cooper blurted as they headed back to Door-2-Door. “She says there’s plenty of room for you in their house.”

Taken aback, Erik blinked at her in surprise. Then he frowned. “Velma’s not the problem. It’s Violet I need to convince. I know she loves me, but she feels guilty about marrying again. She said she made a vow and has never broken a promise in her life.”

Cooper mulled this over. “Is Violet a religious woman?”

“Well, she goes to church every Sunday and she and Velma read the Bible to each other every night. Why?”

“I think Savannah might be able to give you some advice on how to show Violet that she’s not doing anything wrong by remarrying,” Cooper said. “She leads our Bible study and always seems to know the answers to life’s most difficult puzzles.”

Beaming, Erik parked his truck, turned off the ignition, and grabbed Cooper by the hand. “I’m not getting any younger, so if you can offer me some hope, I’d be really grateful. Can we ask her right away?”

Hurrying inside, Cooper found Savannah talking with Leo. She’d just finished getting directions to his apartment even though the truculent young man muttered that she’d be wasting his valuable free time. Unperturbed by his hostility, Savannah smiled at him and said that she was looking forward to their visit and promised to arrive with a homemade maple-apple cream pie as well as other surprises.

After Leo stalked off, Cooper propelled Erik into the seat next to Savannah’s and explained the older man’s dilemma.

“If you love one another, you should celebrate that love through the bond of marriage,” Savannah said.

“But what about Violet’s former marriage vows? Would she be betraying them?” Erik wrung his hands together.

“Romans chapter seven, verse three states that if a woman’s husband dies, she is released from the law of marriage and is not an adulteress, even if she marries another man.” Savannah touched Erik on the arm. “Perhaps you can share that passage with Violet. If she still has doubts, I’d be available to talk with her. I also run a couples discussion group at Hope Street Church on Wednesday nights, should you two care to join.”

Erik leapt from his seat. “Thank you! Romans seven, verse three. Romans seven, verse three. Got it!” He smiled like a schoolboy. “I’m heading back to her house right now! I’m going to read her that verse and then kneel down, and offer her the ring. I bought her a violet gem, because I can’t see the color purple without thinking of her. I’d give anything to slip that ring on her finger today!” And off he raced, his truck wheels screeching as he tore out of the parking lot.

“I don’t think he’s our killer,” Cooper said to Savannah.

“It certainly seems like he’s focused on something other than money,” Savannah agreed quietly. “I rode with Brenda today. The woman is devoted to these clients and to her son. I doubt she’d risk having him placed in foster care while she was sent to jail for murder.” She sighed. “The brutal death of Darik’s father has made her repulsed by violence, not attracted to it.” Savannah placed her cane on the floor and stood up. “I hope our friends have discovered a deep, dark secret about one of their partners because you and I certainly haven’t.”

Thinking of Erik’s hope-filled face, Cooper smiled. “You know, it was kind of nice to be in on a romantic adventure instead. I hope Violet says ‘yes.’”

After leading Savannah out to the Mr. Faucet van, Cooper found Nathan in the walk-in fridge and asked him to join her for lunch followed by an afternoon reading through Frank Crosby’s Civil War diary.

“A chance to check out the treasure you discovered? Of course I’m in,” Nathan whispered as Quinton and Bryant walked past. “But I’m not looking forward to making a confession during Bible study tomorrow about our activities Friday night.”

“At least I have faith that our friends will forgive us.” Cooper frowned. “I’m not so certain the cops will be as merciful.”

• • •

Cooper entered the classroom where the Sunrise Bible Study met and inhaled an enticing aroma. Quinton had baked pecan cinnamon coffee cake muffins and had kept them warm using the oven in the teachers’ lounge, while Nathan had provided a healthy side dish of a bowl of sliced red Anjou pears mixed with golden raisins and Trish had supplied them with fresh-ground Kona coffee.

“This was an exciting week for Joseph,” Savannah said as she waited for her friends to sit at their desks and turn to the appropriate workbook page. “How do you feel about Joseph’s treatment of his brothers when they came to seek help for their folks back home during the time of famine?”

Quinton frowned. “I was torn. On one hand, I thought it was fair for Joseph to cause his brothers some anguish. On the other hand, I wanted him to just reveal himself and have a big-time reunion banquet right off.”

Nathan, Jake, and Trish all shared their thoughts.

“Cooper, anything to add before we move on?” Savannah asked.

Starting guiltily, Cooper found that she’d been so focused on the entries from the Civil War diary that she hadn’t been following the discussion.

“Page 181,” Nathan whispered.

Glancing quickly at her workbook, Cooper said, “I loved the end of chapter forty-three. I could just picture the scene where Joseph hears that his father is still alive. That news must have made his heart swell. This whole scene was really moving.”

Trish dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, leaving blotches of mascara on her upper cheeks. “The reunion between Jacob and Joseph was so beautiful. It made me think of you, Jake. I prayed that one day you’d see your daddy again and that when you did, you could forgive him.”

Now it was Jake’s turn to become misty-eyed. He whispered “Thank you” to Trish and then got up from his desk to refill his coffee cup.

“Before we go on,” Cooper cleared her throat. “I need to tell you about something, um, deceitful I’ve done. Nathan was with me, too, but only to make sure I didn’t get hurt.” As she picked at the crumb topping of her muffin, Cooper described how she and Nathan had gained access through the back door, retrieved the diary from inside the rocking chair, and realized that the killer had followed them. Lastly, she repeated the words that had been written on the side of her truck.

“Seek and die!” Trish shrieked. “That’s a pretty serious threat!”

“Why didn’t you tell us before we showed up at Door-2-Door yesterday?” Bryant demanded. “We could have asked everyone what they were up to Friday night!”

Jake’s mouth formed a crooked smile. “Yeah, sure. I could have just turned to Penny and said, ‘Hey, lady. Were you out in the rain last night, writing threats on my friend’s truck?’” He waved off the notion. “Give Cooper a break. She did something she felt she had to do. Didn’t we all just read some lessons about making mistakes?”

Quinton studied Cooper and Nathan, his eyes lit with interest. “Did you read the diary?”

“I did, and now we know why Mr. Crosby had such an aversion to the color yellow. We decided to read the diary at the Tuckahoe Library in case we needed to look up any facts. Lucky we did too, because one of the reference librarians recognized this.” She pulled a plastic bag from her purse. Inside was a rectangle of yellow fabric. Very carefully, she took the fabric out of the bag and unfolded it.

“It’s shaped like a flag,” Bryant said.

“You’re a clever guy,” Nathan said. “It’s a hospital flag from the Civil War. It was flown outside the hospital tents. Frank’s relative, Lieutenant Aaron Crosby, spent time in a Union field hospital.”

Jake nearly choked on his coffee. “He was a Yankee?”

“No, but he was shot in the back by one during a retreat,” Nathan explained. “So he took the coat and sword from a dead Union soldier lying nearby and, because they thought he was one of their own, they carried him to their hospital. Aaron wrote that his own army was on the run and that his only chance of survival was to pretend to be a Yank.”

“That seems a bit dishonorable,” Quinton said.

Trish’s violet eyes narrowed. “The man just wanted to live. Maybe he had a family he wanted to see again—a future he dreamed about.”

“He most certainly did.” Cooper opened the diary and read Aaron’s words:

April 18

Sunrise. I dreamed of returning to our farm. Annie must be awake by now. The cows will need milking. I hope the boy is helping her with the chores. I wonder if he’s taller than me now. I’m tired. Will write more tomorrow.

April 19

The doctors are beginning to wonder about my muteness. I will have to leave here soon. My wound is healing well and it is a luxury to rest in a soft bed again, so it will be difficult to sleep in fields and ditches again. My feet are still clotted with blood and I’ve lost four nails from my right foot. That comes as no surprise considering the poor condition of my boots. Most of our men went barefoot during our last skirmish and none of us have had enough food to fill our bellies for months.

The South cannot win this war. She is like David fighting Goliath, but with no stone to throw. All I want is to return home, to look upon the faces of my dear ones and to watch my crops grow.

I have forgotten what it is we have been fighting for . . .

“The poor man,” Savannah said. “I’m glad to know Lieutenant Aaron must have reunited with his family or there wouldn’t have been a Frank Crosby. I wonder how he ended up with the hospital flag.”

“He stole it,” Nathan said. “The hospital tent was in a state of chaos because a large group of wounded soldiers was brought in. Aaron used the confusion to his advantage. He left his bed, ripped down the hospital flag to wrap around his right foot, which was in pretty bad shape, and fled.” Gesturing at the flag, he added, “I assume it was well washed after he got home.”

“Frank was ashamed of his relative for retreating and then deserting,” Bryant mused aloud.

Cooper nodded. “That and more. Apparently, the field hospital fell under cannon fire and everyone inside died.”

“Because the yellow flag had been taken?” Trish’s violet eyes were wide with horror.

“There’s no way of knowing,” Nathan replied. “But Frank was obviously very ashamed of being related to this man and wanted to keep all ties to Aaron Crosby a secret.”

“That part of our mystery is now solved,” Savannah spoke with quiet authority. “It’s time to turn the diary over to the police, and Cooper, you must tell them about the message written on your truck.”

“I will. I’m going to call them right after church. But first, I’d like to ask for your forgiveness.” Cooper glanced at each of her friends. “Something inside me just wouldn’t rest until I understood Frank better. Thoughts of him have been kind of haunting me since I learned of his death.”

Trish looked at Cooper kindly. “I understand how you feel. Maybe what you did will save lives. Maybe the killer will stop now that they realize it’s not just the authorities out there looking for them.”

The sound of music drifted into the open door of the classroom, a signal for small groups to wrap up their discussions and make their way to the auditorium.

“The police are likely to interview the regular Saturday Door-2-Door volunteers about their movements Friday night,” Quinton said as he began tidying up. “I guess we no longer have a role to play.”

Bryant looked disappointed. “So there’s no need to pry into the volunteers’ lives anymore?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Savannah argued. “I have no doubt that God, through Trish, placed us in the path of those volunteers. If He hadn’t, then Leo wouldn’t be joining us for worship this morning. We should always take an interest in those around us.”

“Leo’s coming here?” The alarm in Trish’s voice made Jake grin.

“You can relax that grip on your purse,” he teased. “That boy’s all bark and no bite. Tell them the story, Savannah. Quick, before we have to go.”

“First of all, Leo was arrested for disorderly conduct.” She couldn’t hold back the smile that appeared on her face. “Turns out, our friend had a bit too much to drink one warm spring evening and found himself with a full bladder. He went in search of the closest tree—”

“But found the leg of a horse instead!” Jake hollered. “The horse belonged to a mounted cop, and let’s just say that our man Leo didn’t have very good aim that night. Both horse and rider were sprayed by something warm and smelly and wet.”

“Oh, dear.” Trish giggled behind her hand.

“Leo works for a moving company and lives in the same apartment building as his mama. We met her and she’s a fine, upstanding woman,” Savannah continued. “I also brought our new friend a copy of T. D. Jakes’s Speaks to Men on CD. Leo must have been influenced by the book because he called me at seven this morning to ask if there was a bus stop close to Hope Street.”

“Savannah was perfect,” Jake said with enthusiasm. “She just listened to Leo talk and then told him that everyone makes mistakes and that we can learn from them and be changed by them. His mama is going to be in seventh heaven when she finds out that he’s coming to church today.”

“Then we’d better get a move on.” Savannah stood. “Cooper, I hope that you don’t get in too much trouble for poking around in Frank’s house.”

“Maybe the Colonel and I can be cellmates,” Cooper joked, but her heart was filled with trepidation as she followed her friends down the hallway and into the large chapel, where a sea of joyful faces were waiting to sing the opening hymn.

During the time of silent reflection, Cooper prayed that Ashley’s surgery would go smoothly the next day and then asked for the courage to walk into the Henrico County Police Department’s headquarters and face the consequences of her actions.

14

After grabbing a quick lunch, Cooper drove north toward the cluster of governmental buildings on Parham Road. She had to explain herself to several officers before a gruff woman with hair pulled into such a tight bun that her forehead seemed stretched took her name and phone number. The female cop reluctantly took the diary from her, flipped it over and, not finding anything interesting on the front or back covers, tossed the Ziploc onto her desk.

“That’s it?” Cooper was incredibly relieved that she’d gotten off so lightly.

The woman snorted. “No. Investigator Rector will be calling you tomorrow. He’ll want to hear your colorful story for himself.”

“Do you think I’m going to—” Cooper gulped. “Be arrested?”

The woman shrugged. “Who knows? You broke into a crime scene, tampered with evidence, and possibly compromised a police investigation. It’d sure be within our rights to read you your Miranda warning.” She pointed a stubby finger at Cooper’s chest. “Just don’t go anywhere. You come marching straight here the second Rector calls, no matter what you’re doing. He doesn’t like people to be late.”

Beads of perspiration dotted Cooper’s brow. “Yes, ma’am. And I’m really sorry. I wasn’t trying to mess things up. I just wanted to find out what happened to Mr. Crosby. I was actually hoping to help the police.”

The female officer hitched her weighted belt higher on her round hips. “Save your speeches for tomorrow. Lucky for you, I’m not the one you need to convince.”

And with that, Cooper was dismissed.

• • •

Monday morning was unusually fair and mild. The weather was incongruent with the displays of Halloween decorations, chrysanthemums, hay-stuffed scarecrows, and pyramids of waxy pumpkins gracing every storefront Cooper passed on her way to the office.

She’d barely stepped foot through Make It Work!’s front door when Angela rushed over, grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her toward the magnificent assortment of red, pink, and fuchsia roses bursting from a picnic basket.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you didn’t get those from Costco,” Cooper said, touching a few of the silky petals.

Angela thrust a label into Cooper’s hand. “Look at the tag! This design is called the Kiss.” Next, she yanked a florist’s greeting card from its plastic fork in the center of the group of roses. “Now get a load of this!”

Obediently, Cooper read the card. “‘Because I dream of kissing you.’”

“Who do you think it’s from?” Angela clutched the card against her heart. “Emilio? Did you see the way he danced with me in the garage the other day?”

“It’s not him,” Cooper immediately responded. Seeing the hurt on her friend’s face, she softened her tone. “I’m sorry, Angela, but this is way too classy for Emilio. Take the wording of the note, for example. It doesn’t sound like him at all.” She lowered her voice. “I think it’s from Mr. Farmer. You made him jealous and he’s trying to tell you that he cares.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “I doubt it. I told you before, he’s had a bazillion chances to reel me in.” She crossed her arms defensively and stared at Cooper from beneath her fake eyelashes. “What is with you today? Your tongue is sharp as a lightnin’ bolt and you look like you haven’t had a wink of sleep. Is it Nathan?”

“No. Everything’s fine between us.” Cooper felt queasy just thinking about the phone call she’d be receiving from Investigator Rector. “Ashley’s having surgery today,” she said, sharing her other source of stress. “I’m a little worried about her and I doubt I’ll be able to concentrate until Mama calls and tells me she’s okay.”

“Oh, honey. She’ll be right as rain.” Angela threw her arms around Cooper. “And I’m sorry that I’ve been so self-centered lately. It’s gettin’ older that’s doing it. I want to take care of somebody and I want somebody to take care of me.” She smiled and her eyes turned misty. “I have a drawer full of Hallmark cards and I’m going to get everybody to sign one for your sister. Just say the word if you need to leave early today. I’ll rearrange your schedule in a flash.” She snapped her manicured fingers.

Cooper felt a rush of affection for her friend. “Enjoy your flowers, Angela. No matter who they’re from, someone obviously recognizes what a catch you are.”

A flicker of genuine sadness passed across the secretary’s face and it was that brief glimpse of Angela’s fear of aloneness that propelled Cooper to march straight to Mr. Farmer’s office. Her boss was bent over a spreadsheet, an adding machine next to his right hand and the latest issue of Popular Mechanics near to his left. He looked up at her, blinking, as though surprised to see another human being in his lair.

“Good morning.” He removed his glasses, drew his hand away from the adding machine, and waited for her to speak.

Cooper shut the door behind her and, after removing a pile of newspapers from the only other chair in the room, sat down and faced her boss. “Sir. Did you send Angela roses?”

Mr. Farmer blushed from the bottom of his cheeks to the bald spot in the center of his head. “Well, I—”

“Because I know you care about her and that you might think she has feelings for Emilio. In a sense, she’d like him to have feelings for her, just for vanity’s sake, but the truth is that she wants a man to share her life with. That man isn’t Emilio.” She stared intently at Mr. Farmer. “It’s you.”

Flustered, her boss’s fingers twitched erratically and his pinkie hit the total button on the adding machine. Numbers appeared on the thin strip of white paper as the machine buzzed in a wild frenzy of ink. Mr. Farmer reached out to turn it off, but he couldn’t control his hands, so Cooper walked around the desk and flicked the switch for him.

“You need to make a bold statement, sir. Not roses. Something that declares how you feel in a direct manner. Prove to Angela once and for all that you’re willing to take the risk and ask her to be with you.” Cooper paused, wondering if she was making a grave mistake by issuing orders to her boss. “Forgive me for butting in here, sir, but she’s been miserable lately and I think you have, too.”

After a lengthy pause, Mr. Farmer issued the briefest of nods. Finally, without meeting Cooper’s eyes, he murmured, “What should I do?”

For the moment, Cooper forgot her own troubles. She grinned at her boss. “Don’t worry, sir. I have an idea.”

• • •

Cooper’s first appointment after lunch was at an unexpected location. Lali Gupta had phoned earlier in the day and requested an annual service contract with Make It Work!

“The director asked for you personally.” Angela handed Cooper a work order. “They have a busted copier and fax machine. Get her to sign our annual contract form before you leave, too. Mr. Farmer is going to give them a special rate because they’re a nonprofit. He has such a big heart, that man.” Opening her makeup compact, Angela reapplied a layer of scarlet lipstick. “He asked me to stay late tonight. We’ve never worked a minute past five before. I can’t imagine what he’s up to.”

“Me, either,” Cooper replied innocently. “But there are some nasty-looking spreadsheets in his office, so it can’t be anything fun.”

Frowning, Angela returned to her desk while Cooper slid the Door-2-Door paperwork onto her clipboard and headed out to a work van. Emilio intercepted her before she could open the driver’s door.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Emilio leaned against the van, his knuckles pushing his biceps outward. “How was the weekend? Did you sit around, eat bonbons, and wonder what I was doing? Because I thought about you. Let’s go out tonight. What do ya say?”

Emilio was the last person Cooper wanted to see at the moment. Hoping to run him off, she opened one of the van’s rear doors, planted her toolbox firmly on the floor, and slammed the door shut. Giving him a wide berth, she walked back to the front of the van. “I had a lovely weekend, thank you. I ate a bunch of fried food, broke into an old man’s house with my boyfriend, received a threatening note from a serial killer, went to church, and then turned myself into the police because I broke the law. In fact, I’m waiting for a phone call from one of the detectives, who’s probably going to tell me to get my tail down to the station before his coffee gets cold, so if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get to this next job as quick as I can.”

Instead of being repelled by Cooper’s caustic demeanor, Emilio inched closer to her. “You don’t need to make up stories to impress me. I already think you’re awesome.”

“That’s nice, Emilio, but I’m not interested. Got it?” Cooper jumped into the van and locked the door. As she pulled away, she caught a glimpse of him in her side mirror. He stood with his feet planted and his arms crossed, his wavy hair blowing in the wind and his dark eyes shining with a predatory gleam. To Cooper, he looked more like a wolf than a man.

• • •

When Cooper approached Lali Gupta’s desk, she was shocked by the woman’s appearance. Lali was a wreck. Her black hair was stringy and dull, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and her wrinkled blouse had been buttoned incorrectly. Even her nails had been chewed into jagged fragments. Cooper wished she could find a way to comfort the unhappy woman, but she knew that only the police could offer Lali the resolution she desperately needed.

Cooper asked the volunteer director how she was holding up, and Lali sighed heavily. “There was a story in Sunday’s paper about the suspicious deaths of our clients. I knew it would come out sooner or later, but the timing is really awful because we just sent out our quarterly requests for funding last week. Two corporate accounts already called this morning to say that they’ll be donating to other causes because they don’t want their names linked to us.”

“That’s awful.”

“If we lose any more benefactors, we’ll have to turn away clients.” Lali rubbed her temples. “I can’t stand the thought of saying no to people who need our services. I don’t even know where we’re going to scrape together the money to pay for our current clients.”

Cooper observed the men and women seated in nearby cubicles. Every one was engaged in a phone conversation, and while Cooper worked on the broken fax machine located in the middle of the row, it became obvious that the Door-2-Door staff was putting every ounce of their energy into garnering donations. Even though their pleas were filled with passion and conviction, most of them hung up their phones without having secured any funds.

Angrily twisting a screw into place, Cooper reflected that the Door-2-Door killer had already stolen the lives of several helpless elderly men and women, but now the villain was also diminishing the chances for other aged Richmonders to receive the meals they desperately needed.

“It’s out of our hands now,” Cooper reminded herself with a whisper.

When her repair on the fax machine was complete, she packed her tools and relocated to a hallway outside the conference room. The copier, a refurbished Canon imageRunner 6000, looked like it hadn’t been serviced since it left the factory. Cooper accessed the interior of the machine and began her analysis of the existing problems. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice a pair of black boots appear behind her toolbox. She gazed up to see Campbell, his massive arms on his hips and a playful smirk on his face.

“So you’re our repairman, eh? A woman wielding tools is a cool thing. It’s easy to forget that our volunteers have lives outside of my kitchen.” He stroked his braided beard. “I won’t be seeing you guys this weekend.” He blinked and the amused glimmer vanished. “Keep an eye on things for me, would you?”

Cooper’s mind raced. Did Campbell realize that the killer was likely one of his Friday or Saturday volunteers?

“Of course,” she assured him. “Though I can’t quite give off the same vibe of authority as you. Guess I could rent one of those muscle suits, but there’s no chance of me growing a Fu Manchu by Saturday.” She wiped her hands on a rag. “So where are you off to?”

“I need to run out to the beach. There’s this girl there. Aurora. She’s a bartender at one of the hotels on the strip. She rides a Harley, she sings like an angel, and she’s tough as nails.”

“And pretty?”

The light returned to Campbell’s eyes. “The most beautiful woman to ever walk this earth. And I’m going to meet her folks for lunch on Saturday. She wants to take our relationship to the next level, and if this is what I need to do to make her mine for good, then I’ll meet her family, her preacher, her high school teachers, her Girl Scout leader—anybody.”

Cooper wiped ink from her wrench and smiled. “I heard that you’ve liked this woman for a long time but that she didn’t necessarily, um, return your affection. How’d you get her to change her mind?”

“With this.” Campbell turned his back on Cooper and then yanked his tight black T-shirt over his head. A spectrum of colors covering the skin of his back was suddenly revealed. Cooper found herself staring at the biggest tattoo she’d ever seen. It began as blue waves on his lower back—an ocean filled with tropical fish and fingers of coral. Above the curls of white foam in the middle of Campbell’s back, porpoises leapt from the surf. An enormous sunrise, created with dazzling yellows, oranges, and hot pinks, spread from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. Striped sunrays radiated outward from the edges of Campbell’s shoulders to the base of his neck. Doves carrying red roses in their beaks flew upward toward the ornate black letters spelling out the name Aurora.

“Wow,” Cooper breathed.

Campbell pulled his shirt down over the taut muscles of his back and swiveled around. “That’s what Aurora said. She figured I must truly want the real thing with her to do what I did.”

Cooper nodded. “I’d say so! That’s a pretty permanent gesture.”

“She’s all I ever wanted.” Campbell held out his hands as though he meant to grab the handlebars of his bike. “Anita’s filling in for me this weekend, but help her watch over everybody. If I catch the piece of scum that’s been messing with my food, I’m going to think of all-new uses for that walk-in freezer.”

“I’ll do my best,” Cooper promised and then watched as he walked away, his burly figure buoyed by a litheness that could only be attributed to happiness.

He’s not the killer, she thought. Like Erik, Campbell is motivated by love instead of money. So who wants money, or to hurt seniors, more than anything else? That’s our murderer.

Before she had the chance to review her mental list of remaining suspects, her phone rang. Swallowing, she saw that the number belonged to a Taylor Rector. She was being summoned.

• • •

Nathan called right after she got off the phone with Investigator Rector and insisted on accompanying her to the police headquarters. Although Cooper argued that it wasn’t necessary, Nathan wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I was with you, remember? I’m your partner in crime. Literally.”

“You wouldn’t have been there if I’d just kept my big mouth shut. I refuse to let you get in trouble with the cops because you were trying to be a good boyfriend.”

“It took me long enough to be worthy of boyfriend status. I kept putting work before you,” Nathan countered. “Not anymore, Cooper.”

Though pleased by his comment, Cooper couldn’t let Nathan share the blame for her rash behavior. “I’m pulling into the parking lot and I refuse to tell you who I’m here to see. Wait for me out in the lobby. Please, Nathan. Just knowing you’re close will mean the world to me.”

Nathan mumbled something noncommittal and said good-bye.

After checking in at the front, Cooper was escorted through a warren of desks by a stern-faced officer to a wooden door bearing Investigator Rector’s name.

The investigating officer was not what Cooper had expected. He had ruddy cheeks and a freckled nose, giving him a boyish appearance. His hair had roguish curls and his brown eyes, tinged with green, were framed by a sweep of dark eyelashes that most women would kill for. Rector pointed at one of the empty chairs facing his desk, indicating that Cooper should sit while he wrapped up his phone conversation.

Swallowing nervously, Cooper noticed that Aaron Crosby’s diary was encased in an official plastic evidence bag and sat in the center of the policeman’s desk.

“Ms. Lee, I presume?” Investigator Rector said after completing his call.

“Guilty as charged,” Cooper replied and then silently cursed herself for such a poor choice of words.

Rector raised his brows, unamused by her quip. “Breaking into a sealed crime scene is a felony, Ms. Lee. You could be looking at a steep fine.” He held up a thin sheaf of stapled papers. “I checked you out. Fortunately, you’ve got a clean record. Not even a moving violation in the past six months.” He fixed his intense gaze on her. “So what made you decide to tamper with evidence and hinder a police investigation?”

Cooper took a deep breath. “I wasn’t trying to interfere with your case, sir. I paid a visit to Frank Crosby’s son and he told me about the existence of a diary and a sword. Until then, it didn’t seem like there was anything valuable in Mr. Crosby’s house and that he’d been killed for no apparent reason.” She glanced at the diary. “It had been a long time since the Colonel, I mean Edward Crosby, had been inside his daddy’s house. He and Frank didn’t get along and I didn’t want to waste your time unless he was telling the truth about those items, so I decided to search for them myself.”

Rector’s eyes flashed, but his lips curved into the hint of a smile. “You were just watching out for us, is that it? Didn’t want us to waste valuable manpower?”

Cooper’s falsified tale withered under Rector’s scrutiny. “I met Frank Crosby. He was nervous and bitter, and, I’m ashamed to say this, but a little disgusting, too. His house was a mess, his clothes were gross, and he had no one to care for him. The biggest highlight of his day was getting his hands on the neighbor’s newspaper so he could work the puzzles.”

After a pause, Rector said, “Go on.”

“I pitied Frank. I wished for a better life for him.” Cooper stared at her hands. “And I was grateful to him, too, because he made me realize that I had much to be thankful for. With his son in jail, I felt a responsibility to find out what happened to him. I know that might not make sense to you, but when I thought about someone stealing from and . . . poisoning my own grandmother, I just couldn’t sit by and wait. Something inside me—a refusal to accept what was happening— drove me to act.”

“Tell me about the sword,” Rector said, his face unreadable.

“Edward told us that his father kept Aaron Crosby’s sword in his bedroom closet. It was supposed to be in excellent shape and Frank liked to take it out of its scabbard every now and again to clean it. I don’t know specific details about it, but maybe Edward does.”

Rector pivoted in his chair and turned his attention to his computer keyboard. “Let’s see.” His fingers worked rapidly. “According to this auction site, Civil War swords complete with scabbard sell for a range of six hundred to three thousand dollars.”

“That’s it?” Cooper was shocked. “Frank was killed over that amount of money?”

“People have been killed for much less, Ms. Lee. Still, it makes me wonder if money is this guy’s main motive after all.” Rector rubbed his chin. “Our killer is angry with senior citizens for some reason. He wants to get rid of them, but doesn’t have what it takes to do it with his own hands. Therefore he poisons them so they just slip away.”

“He can feel less guilt that way,” Cooper suggested quietly. “As if he’s done them a kindness by relieving them of their sad lives. It’s almost like he hates them, but cares about them, too.”

Studying her again, Rector folded his hands together. “And were you alone when you went to Frank’s? I’m just asking out of curiosity.”

“My boyfriend was with me. I didn’t want him to come but he was worried about my safety. He tried to talk me out of going. He and my friends were in agreement that we should leave everything in the hands of the police, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“Nathan Dexter is another member of the illustrious Sunrise Bible Study, right?”

Stunned at the amount of information the investigator possessed, she nodded.

“Don’t be too impressed.” The officer grinned, shuffling papers around. “I ate lunch with Investigator McNamara today. I’m sure you remember him. He had a lot to say about you.”

McNamara had been the lead investigator in the murder case Cooper and her friends had been involved with during the spring of that year. The officer had treated them with courtesy but had also sternly ordered them to cease their sleuthing.

“There’s something else I should tell you.” Cooper inhaled and then hastily described the message left on her truck.

The policeman jerked in his chair, his eyes alert and excited. “The killer was following you? We might be able to use this.” He twiddled his thumbs as he thought. After a few moments, he seemed to remember that Cooper was in the room. “All right, Ms. Lee, you’re free to go. I wanted to learn if you’d found anything that might prove useful to us and it seems that you have.” He got to his feet and came around to the front of his desk. “I may call on you to do something for me in the immediate future—to help bait our suspect into revealing his identity. Would you be up to that?”

Cooper exhaled in relief. Standing, she grasped the investigator’s outstretched hand and pumped it heartily. “I’ll help you in any way I can.”

“I’d also like your word that you and your friends are officially off the case,” he added sternly. “Should some piece of useful information come your way, you are to contact me directly. Otherwise, the Sunrise Sleuths are officially retired. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

Rector raised his left brow. “I’m sure, being that you’re a faithful churchgoer, that I can take you at your word. Have a nice day.”

Cooper walked down the hallway with a much lighter step and then burst through the lobby doors.

Seeing Nathan pacing near a row of plastic chairs, Cooper swiftly closed the distance between them. When he saw her approaching, he moved forward to meet her. “It’s okay!” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. “We had a nice, civilized discussion and he let me go with a warning.”

Nathan lifted her from the ground in celebration, and the movement dislodged her purse from her shoulder. Its contents spread across the marble floor in a noisy clatter.

Releasing her, Nathan warned, “You’re about to step on your phone.” He scooped it off the ground while Cooper shoved her wallet, car keys, sunglasses, a packet of tissues, a lip gloss, and a roll of Life Savers back into her purse.

“I need to grab a drink of water,” she said, clutching her purse. “My mouth went so dry back there.” Spying a sign for the restrooms, Cooper squeezed Nathan’s arm. “Be right back.”

Nathan put her phone back in her hand and Cooper was almost at the water fountain when she saw the text message on her phone’s screen. She’d put her phone on mute before her interview with Rector and the message must have arrived while she was in his office. It read:

Can’t W8 2 B alone w/ U in the break room again. I want 2 smell the perfume I gave U. XOXO Emilio

“Unbelievable,” Cooper muttered in annoyance. “I hope Nathan didn’t see that.” She shoved the phone into her purse, refusing to let Emilio dim her happiness. Back in the lobby, she locked her arm in Nathan’s and they stepped outside.

Leaves tripped down the sidewalk and the flags whipped back and forth in the late afternoon breeze. Cooper inhaled the crisp air with renewed appreciation and sent a wayward stick scuttling into the grass with a playful kick.

“Now that the interrogation is over, I have to call Ashley,” Cooper said. “As long as her surgery went well, then this has turned out to be a pretty good day after all.”

As they walked toward the parking lot, Cooper told Nathan about seeing Campbell at Door-2-Door.

“It’s amazing what a guy will do to impress a woman,” Nathan said and frowned.

Cooper didn’t notice the frown or the acerbic tone to his voice. Her thoughts already turned to Ashley, she kissed Nathan, thanked him again for standing by her, and then got into her truck. Nathan waved and turned away with his head bent as if he were walking into the wind.

• • •

At home, Grammy and Earl were arguing over the directions Maggie had written regarding the preparation of their dinner.

“It’s a chicken pot pie, son. Just stick it in the oven for a spell. If you poke your finger in the middle and get burnt, then it’s ready to eat.”

“I’m right sure this is a three.” Earl pointed at a sheet of notepaper. Seeing Cooper, he thrust the instructions at her. “What do you think?”

Reading over her mother’s hasty scrawl, Cooper set the oven, pulled a tossed salad from the fridge, and then shook up a mason jar containing homemade poppy seed dressing. “How’s Ashley, Daddy?”

“Just fine,” Earl answered, spreading open his newspaper. “Your mama’s gone to fix her supper. Says your sister’s a bit tired but in high spirits. I take it they mended everything that needed fixing.”

“Was Lincoln there?” Cooper placed a pair of wooden salad forks in the center of the table.

After nodding, Earl turned his attention to his paper. Meanwhile, Grammy settled herself at the kitchen table and gave Cooper one of her eagle-eyed stares.

“You never came home Friday night,” she said disapprovingly. “You’re not movin’ too fast with that boy, are you?”

Earl pretended to be absorbed in an article about declining interest rates while Cooper gathered silverware from the drawer next to the sink, her neck flushing pink.

“No, Grammy. It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then?” she demanded.

Cooper realized that it was time to follow Aurora’s lead. She needed to invite Nathan to meet her family in order to cement the seriousness of the relationship.

Instead of answering Grammy, Cooper looked at her father. “Any plans this weekend, Daddy?”

Earl shrugged. “Nothing special.” He looked sideways at his mother. “You’d know better than me.”

Grammy shook her head. “Just another bake sale at church. Why, Granddaughter? You got somethin’ excitin’ in mind?”

Cooper sat across from her and smiled. “I’d like to invite Nathan over for Sunday dinner. It’s time for you all to meet.”

Rubbing her hands together with glee, Grammy exclaimed, “I’m gonna make it a point to mention that nice diamond engagement ring gatherin’ dust in our bank box!”

Knowing that it would do no good to ask Grammy to refrain from mentioning the subject of marriage during Nathan’s first visit to their home, Cooper removed the pot pie from the oven with a defeated groan.

15

Cooper had the storm nightmare for the third time.

As in previous dreams, she was inside the small boat racing toward the bank of low thunderclouds, but this time she could practically feel the chill of the rain as it hit her skin. The drops were sharp as needles and when Cooper looked down at her raw, red feet, she noticed several objects floating in a shallow puddle in the stern of her boat.

She recognized Frank’s diary and a black-and-white tintype of a young man in uniform. The face had been partially scratched off as if someone had been intent upon erasing the man from memory. There was also a bouquet of purple flowers. Primroses or violets. It was hard to tell.

As the boat surged through the water, Cooper’s dream-self looked down at the rolling gray river and saw the yellow hospital flag drift past. She reached out to grab it, desperately wanting to rescue it from the water, but a stray current pushed it just beyond her grasp. The boat picked up even more speed, hurtling forward like a bullet train.

This was the closest the dream had ever taken Cooper to the storm. The tongues of lightning crackled directly above the trees flanking the river. Several of the tallest pines were already aflame. Abruptly, the fire spread. Cooper stared fearfully at the conflagration, feeling the heat on her face and swatting at the pieces of ash raining down into her boat. The air burned her lungs. She crouched lower in her boat, inhaling the scent of smoking pinecones.

The bow of her boat bumped gently against a pebbled bank. The burning trees were gone. Cooper was safe. And then a stick snapped in the forest. A shape began to materialize from the shadows. It was a man.

Wordlessly, he moved toward her, malice preceding him like a perfume borne by the wind. Frantic, Cooper pushed her boat back into the water, clawing at the liquid with her arms, but the man kept coming toward her. She paddled desperately, edging backward inch by agonizing inch, but there was no way to escape him. Her breath stopped as he waded effortlessly into the water. He reached out for her and she woke up.

• • •

Cooper waited until eight thirty Tuesday morning before calling Nathan to ask him over for dinner that weekend. He told her that he’d already been up for hours.

“I’ve received several irate emails from dissatisfied Big Man Product customers and I’m trying to figure out what to do about them.”

“Why are they writing you?” Cooper asked. “You’re the webmaster. It’s not your business.”

“According to these customers, the toll-free number listed on the website’s contact page is defunct.” Nathan sounded extremely cross. “And I’m having no luck reaching Tobey on his cell. The whole thing is giving me a bad feeling. His customers are claiming that his muscle builders have made them sick. Really sick.”

Deciding that it wasn’t the best time to invite him to supper, Cooper turned her attention to Nathan’s problem. “I hate to ask, but has Tobey paid you for your work?”

There was a brief silence, and then Nathan said, “He paid the deposit I require for setting up a commercial website and I’ve billed him for the rest of the project. His payment isn’t officially late until . . .” Cooper could hear the tap tap of computer keys. “It’s due tomorrow, actually. I give everyone the standard turnaround time of thirty days.”

“Do you have a credit card number on file?”

“No,” Nathan grumbled. “Listen, I’ve got to run. I need to look into this before I can focus on my other projects. I just received another two emails while we were talking, damn it.”

“Maybe you could do an online background check,” Cooper suggested. “Tobey Dodge sounds a bit like a fake name, now that I think about it.”

“I wish that had crossed your mind the night the three of us went out to dinner,” Nathan mumbled sourly.

Stung by the comment, Cooper blurted, “That’s unfair!”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Nathan hastily apologized. “I know you’re trying to help, but I really have to take care of this right now.”

Cooper was still irked, and her annoyance grew when she saw Emilio waiting for her in the office parking lot again. “I hope everything gets straightened out,” she told Nathan. “I have to run, too. I see a coworker I need to deal with.”

She thought she heard Nathan mumble, “I bet,” before hanging up.

Emilio was holding the front door open for Cooper when the mail truck pulled up and came to a violent stop. A woman in her early twenties with big hair and tight pants sashayed past Emilio. Her jaw, which had been furiously working over a piece of pink bubble gum, momentarily paused in mid-chew as she checked him out.

“Hey, handsome!” she greeted Emilio in a nasal voice that reminded Cooper of Fran Drescher’s character in The Nanny. A fog of perfume surrounded the confident postal carrier and Cooper sidestepped the younger woman and headed for cover behind Angela’s desk.

Emilio ogled the heavily scented mail carrier from head to toe

“Where’s the regular guy?” Cooper whispered to Angela as a bundle of mail was unceremoniously dumped onto the desk.

“Vacation.” Angela grinned and pointed at Emilio. “Honey, what you see before you is Cupid at work. That little cherub is makin’ a match right here, right now.”

Cooper and Angela watched in amusement as the mailwoman, whose name was Carla, won Emilio over in less than twenty seconds. She began by telling Emilio she was tired from having stayed up to watch Monday Night Football and then complained that her girlfriends refused to stay at Buffalo Wild Wings for the whole game. On top of those tidbits, which had already caused Emilio’s eyes to glimmer, Carla managed to let slip that Victoria’s Secret had just released its winter line and that her mail truck was full of catalogs.

She winked at Emilio, picked up the newspaper lying near the front door, and pushed it into his arms. “I’ll be ordering a little silky thing or two. Too bad there’s nobody to see me model them.”

Wiggling her fingers good-bye, she sauntered back to her truck while blowing a bubble the size of a dinner plate.

“Wow,” Emilio murmured as Carla peeled off. “What a woman!”

“I think she liked you,” Cooper said with a smile.

Emilio gazed at her, glassy-eyed. “You do?”

“Definitely!” Angela chimed in. “Carla will be here for the next two weeks. Better make the most of it, sugar. Until then, it’s off to work you go.” She handed him a pile of work orders.

Still in a daze, Emilio took a step toward the locker room and then, after hesitating, jogged back to Cooper and whispered, “Did you keep that box of chocolates?”

She nodded. “They’re in my locker. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” He suddenly seemed to have remembered that he had given Cooper the chocolates as a token of his esteem. “It wouldn’t have worked out between you and me anyhow, right? I mean, you already have a guy.”

“No, you and I would never have worked out. I don’t watch football. And that Victoria’s Secret catalog I had in my bag a few weeks ago? That was my grandmother’s.”

Emilio shivered in distaste and walked away. As soon as he was out of earshot, Angela and Cooper nearly fell over laughing.

“I cannot believe he asked for those Godivas! I sure hope he doesn’t want that awful perfume back, too. Then again, Carla seems to like the smell of flowers mixed with kerosene,” Angela said once she managed to calm down. “Oh, look at me! I’ve gone and cried off all my mascara!”

“And Emilio’s new love interest doesn’t bother you?” Cooper examined her friend carefully. Angela seemed to have an ethereal glow about her this morning.

“I don’t care a fig about that boy. I have the most wonderful man in the world.” Angela snapped open her compact and started repairing her makeup. “Last night, a bit of magic happened in this office.” She blushed. “Back in Mr. Farmer’s office to be exact.”

“I remember that he asked you to stay late.” Cooper played dumb.

Angela spun herself around in her chair, kicking up her feet like a little girl. “There was no work involved. Why, he had the biggest surprise for me! I could never have dreamed of such an evening. It was like a scene from a romance book!”

“Stop keeping me in suspense. What did Mr. Farmer do?”

Planting her heels firmly on the floor, Angela leaned toward Cooper. “He bought tickets to the Sara Bay Kennel Club Dog Show next month. In Sarasota, Florida! Not just that, but he got us two, first-class airplane tickets.” She clapped her hands with glee. “He’s takin’ me to the Sunshine State in style! It’ll be the fanciest, most romantic date I’ve ever had! Isn’t he just the Eighth World Wonder?”

Cooper hugged her friend. “No, I think that title belongs to you.”

Angela handed Cooper her first assignment of the day and then focused her attention on her own billing duties, humming as she reviewed the monthly accounts.

Spirits lifted, Cooper sat in the Make It Work! van waiting for the longest traffic light in Richmond to turn green. She dialed Ashley’s home number and then slipped on her headset.

“Tell me something interesting,” Ashley whined. “I’m already bored. There is absolutely nothing on TV in the mornings. What does Grammy find to watch every day?”

“Animal Planet,” Cooper said. “It sounds like you’re feeling well.”

“I’m great. Now, lay some juicy gossip on me.”

“Love is in the air, Ashley.” Cooper told her sister all about Emilio, Angela, and her decision to introduce Nathan to the family.

Ashley made a strangling sound.

“Are you okay?” Cooper was alarmed.

“Yes, but I just spilled my coffee on my sofa. Thank goodness I paid for stain protection.” Ashley muted the television. “We’re going to meet him this weekend? Oh, I’ll have to find something nice to wear. I hope Lincoln won’t have to work. What’s Mama going to cook? Do you think Grammy will behave herself?” Without pausing, she answered the second question before her sister could. “Of course she won’t. She’ll eat him alive. Have you prepared your boyfriend for this grand occasion?”

Cooper laughed. “You make it sound like he should expect the Chinese water torture treatment. It’s just dinner.”

“Oh, no, it’s not,” Ashley said seriously. “When you’re over thirty and you bring a steady boyfriend over to meet the folks, it’s never just dinner.”

• • •

The workweek sped by, and though Cooper expected to hear from Investigator Rector, he never made contact. According to the Times-Dispatch, no one had been apprehended for the three suspicious deaths of the senior citizens as of yet, but police were busy interviewing Door-2-Door volunteers and employees.

The buoyant mood Cooper had experienced on Tuesday slowly gave way to gloom. As the days passed, Nathan had become increasingly distant, and though Cooper knew he was struggling with the mounting number of angry Big Man customers and had yet to speak to Tobey Dodge, his coolness toward her was hurtful and confusing. Worst of all, his reticence to make weekend plans with her made her feel like their entire relationship was on shaky ground.

“I don’t think I can schedule anything until this situation is resolved,” Nathan said, finally responding to her repeated invitations on Friday evening. “According to the background check I purchased, a Tobey Dodge from L.A. doesn’t exist. I’ve shut the website down temporarily, but I’m out of my league here. One of the Big Man clients is a lawyer and he plans on filing a civil suit. We’re going to meet for coffee Saturday afternoon so I can find out what’s wrong with the product and figure out where I stand.” Nathan sighed. “These folks want their money back, and I’d like to get paid for my work, too.”

Cooper didn’t see why Nathan’s afternoon appointment should preclude him from coming to her house for dinner, but she sensed that cajoling him into meeting her family might not generate the casual, relaxed atmosphere she’d been hoping for. It also bothered her that his professional problems could transfer to his personal life to such an extent that he could barely be civil to his own girlfriend.

Is this the way he handles job-related stress? Cooper wondered unhappily and then headed to her parents’ kitchen in order to tell Maggie that their special dinner was off.

“Oh, Grammy will be so disappointed,” Maggie said and then eyed her daughter keenly. “Is everything all right between you and Nathan?”

“It’s fine. He’s just tied up with a big project right now. Maybe next weekend will work better.” Cooper made a hasty escape before her grandmother could give her the third degree, knowing she’d never be able to hide the truth about Nathan’s inexplicable coolness from Grammy.

Back in her apartment, she cooked a quick dinner of macaroni and cheese with a side of green beans and went to bed early. Lying in the darkness, she prayed that the weekend would bring about the end of the Door-2-Door killer’s reign and a resolution to her problems with Nathan.

• • •

The volunteers were not their boisterous selves Saturday morning at Door-2-Door. Conversation was stilted and the kitchen echoed with nervous whispers and the sounds of soft jazz coming from the radio near the front door. The radio had always been on, but the energetic noises emanating from the volunteers usually eclipsed all other sound. Not today, however.

Cooper packed coolers with Brenda. After her partner dropped a lunch tray on the floor for the third time, Cooper placed a hand on Brenda’s arm and whispered, “You doing okay?”

Brenda’s eyes welled. “No, I ain’t! I got called in to talk to the police in the middle of my shift. I told the boss all about it but he’s been lookin’ at me sideways since then—like I might’ve actually hurt helpless old folks!” She gripped the tray and tried to control her voice. “I almost worked today to make up the hours, but then I started thinkin’ and do you know what I thought?”

Cooper shook her head.

“I thought I’d look guilty if I didn’t show up this mornin’. This is a mess, I tell you! I ain’t been sleepin’ right. I’ve been frettin’ about Darik. What if he hears about all this? I don’t want him to know that his mama’s on the cops’ short list.”

“I doubt you are,” Cooper said, hoping to soothe her agitated friend. “What kind of questions did they ask?”

“All kinds of stuff. How I felt about the elderly. Did I take any prescription drugs? Where was I Friday night last week?” She sighed. “Praise Jesus, I was at church. We had choir practice and then a fried chicken supper. A whole bunch of people saw me.”

“They asked all of us the same questions,” Penny chimed in as she wheeled a cart of fresh lunch trays over to them. “Unfortunately for me, my alibi is pretty weak. I ate a bowlful of popcorn in front of an Audrey Hepburn movie Friday night and then went to bed.”

“Where’s Madge this morning?” Bryant asked.

Penny handed him a tray filled with sandwiches and red apples. “She’s under the weather. Having to go to the police station really upset her. I’m going to drop by her place when I’m done here. The poor thing. It’s bad enough that her daughter’s in trouble again. It’s just too much for her to handle at once.”

“Her daughter?” Quinton gathered several sandwiches into his hands. “The one living in London?”

Nodding, Penny looked aggrieved. “She was fired from the play she was in. Apparently, she went onstage after taking some kind of drug, botched all her lines, and was booed by the audience. Madge is just devastated, so the timing of all this . . .” She gestured around the kitchen. “It’s been a very rough week for her.”

“I think we’re ready, people!” Anita clapped her hands with forced enthusiasm. “Let’s load our cars! I’ll take route twelve with Eugene serving as my navigator. Now, I know we’re short-handed today and some of us are making two trips, so let’s get rolling.”

“Do you want us each to drive our own routes to save time?” Nathan asked. He’d been packing alongside Erik and hadn’t exchanged half a dozen words all morning. But while Erik wore a secretive smile, Nathan looked tired and cross.

His question made Anita instantly anxious. “No, no. You go with Erik, Nathan. We’re not changing our partner routine now. Trish, will you help Penny out? Most of you will have to manage two short routes since we don’t have Madge. Is that all right?”

The volunteers nodded and quickly loaded their carts. Nathan didn’t even glance in Cooper’s direction as he slipped on his navy blue barn coat and headed out into the brisk air.

“Care to tag along with me today?” Warren asked Cooper with a shy smile. He had a few crumbs clinging to his beard, undoubtedly from the coffee cake in the lobby.

Cooper pointed at her own chin. “I’ll need to vacuum you off first.”

“Oh, sorry!” Warren reddened. “I can’t help it. I love the food they give us every week. Don’t tell anyone, but that’s why I volunteer.” He whispered, “I don’t want to help anyone—I just want free cake and cookies.”

Cooper felt Nathan’s eyes on her. “Sounds like you were deprived as a kid,” she teased Warren as they loaded a wheeled cart with coolers. “My mama must’ve baked a million cookies while I was growing up but I’m still not tired of eating them. The thing about living in the country is that it’s easy to exercise. If you walk to the mailbox, you’ve done a quarter mile just like that.”

Warren nodded. “You’ve got that right. Seems my chore list is never-ending. Still, when I was a kid, Grandma Helen baked the world’s best pies and we had fresh eggs for breakfast every morning, so don’t start crying for my sad childhood yet.” He pushed open the door to the outside. “Ladies first. Especially beautiful ones.”

“Thank you.” Cooper smiled, hoping Nathan had overheard the compliment.

Together, they loaded coolers and Sunday food boxes into Warren’s spotless Corolla. Their route consisted of ten stops, at which all of the clients recognized and welcomed Warren warmly. He had a gentle demeanor that clearly put them all at ease, but he was also very efficient. He put their meals away, gave them instructions regarding the contents of their Sunday food box, and then, if they had any, inquired about their pets. He never left a home without ensuring that the dog or cat in residence had fresh water and a bowlful of food.

When one owner, a Mrs. Tilden, began to weep because she was out of dog food, Warren assured her that he’d brought extra supplies just in case.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised the old woman and jogged out to his car. He popped the trunk, grabbed a large Ziploc bag filled with kibble and two cans of moist dog food and returned to Mrs. Tilden’s kitchen. Her canine, a mixed breed named Buddy Boy, began to thump his tail on the floor as Warren replenished his empty bowls.

“Go on and eat now, Buddy,” his owner directed and the dog sprang toward his dinner.

Warren seemed pleased to watch Mrs. Tilden’s pet devour his meal. He then brushed a few of Buddy’s hairs from his pants and said good-bye to Mrs. Tilden.

“I don’t know what we’d do without you, dear!” she called after Warren, a grateful smile on her face.

“Do you have a dog?” Cooper asked Warren on the way to their next stop.

“No. I’d like one, but Grandma Helen’s afraid of them now. She didn’t used to be. We had all kinds of dogs on the farm when I was a kid.” He glanced in Cooper’s direction as they paused at a four-way stop sign and she noticed that his eyes seemed sad.

“You take really good care of her. Even if she can’t tell you that all the time, she’s grateful.” She smiled at him. “Do you have any help? Your parents? Siblings?”

“Whoa! You sound like that police investigator who interviewed me.” He laughed. “Are you wearing a wire inside that leather jacket or something?”

Cooper was embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I’ve always been lousy at small talk. It couldn’t have been too much fun to have been interrogated by the cops and here I am doing the same thing.”

“But hopefully for different reasons. Like you just want to get to know me,” Warren said and shot her a playful grin. “At least that Rector guy wasn’t nasty. He was really polite, actually, and he didn’t ask me anything unreasonable, considering what’s going on. Background stuff, mostly. And where I was last Friday night.”

“I hope your alibi is tighter than Penny’s. She’s worried because no one saw her. She was home watching TV.”

Warren nodded. “That’s what half of America does most nights. I was lucky, because Friday night is bingo night and I took Grandma Helen to the community center to play. She doesn’t always know what’s going on during the games, but she smiles like a kid at the circus when she hears those tiles being spun around. We go at least once a month, so people recognize us.” He wiped his hand across his forehead in a dramatized gesture of relief. “I was never so grateful for bingo in my life.”

“Maybe the police are overlooking something. I keep thinking that there’s no way it’s a Door-2-Door person.” Cooper sighed in frustration. “When I consider the people I’ve met, well, you’re all too nice.” She looked at him as he pulled in front of their final delivery stop. “You’ve been there almost a year, so you’ve stood beside the same people week after week. Doesn’t it blow your mind that someone could be a murderer?”

Warren parked and then dropped his eyes to his lap. “I really hope the police are wrong. That’s all I can do is hope.” He looked at her, his face pinched and drawn. “Because the other possibility is too hard to accept. This could be the end of Door-2-Door. People will stop donating and others will be too afraid to volunteer. Without gifts of money and time, this organization can’t make it.”

“And hundreds of clients will suffer.”

“Hundreds,” Warren repeated softly.

They delivered meals to their last stop quickly and then drove back to headquarters in gloomy silence. As the square building came into view, the gray walls facing the parking lot were highlighted by flashes of blue. Three Henrico County police cars and a pair of City of Richmond cruisers had parked in a fanlike pattern within steps of the front door.

Warren, whose face had gone pale, seemed to freeze behind the wheel at the spotlight across from Door-2-Door.

“They’re bringing someone out,” Cooper breathed. “I can’t tell who it is, though. We’re too far away.”

Warren pressed the accelerator and they pulled into the parking lot. Cooper jumped out of the Corolla just as one of the police car’s rear doors slammed shut. A dozen uniformed officers obscured the vehicle. Rector was there, too. He gesticulated briefly to several of his men and then walked briskly toward a black Mustang.

Cooper looked at the scene Rector had left in his wake. Most of the Door-2-Door volunteers had completed their delivery routes and now stood on the front steps, their eyes wide with shock. Trish was clinging to the rail at the bottom of the loading ramp, her gaze fixed on the police cruiser.

Cooper ran up to her and demanded, “What happened?”

“I just don’t believe it,” Trish murmured dully. “They’ve arrested Erik.”

“The police think he’s the killer?” Cooper was astounded.

Trish nodded numbly. “There’s been another murder. A woman named Vera. She’s not a Door-2-Door client, but she was given food from here.”

Vera? The name sounded familiar. Cooper turned her attention back to the parking lot. The policemen had dispersed and were driving away, blue lights still ablaze.

“Violet!” Cooper exclaimed. “Vera is Violet’s sister! There are three Vs. Violet, Vera, and Velma.”

Trish stared at Cooper in horror. “He murdered his own fiancée’s sister?”

“No.” Cooper rejected the idea immediately. “No way.”

Trish put her hand on Cooper’s shoulder as Warren joined them on the ramp. “I overheard a policeman talking to Lali. Vera was found dead in her chair. Just like the others.” Trish spoke reluctantly. “Her watch was taken right off her wrist. It was the only valuable thing she owned.”

“And she was poisoned?” Cooper asked. She struggled to understand how Erik could have gained access to a woman living in a center with round-the-clock care.

“They think it was in her milk carton,” Bryant said. “It looked like it had been opened a bit and then resealed. Lali’s been asked to review the dietary records of all the victims to see if they were milk drinkers.”

Cooper ran her hand through her hair. “How could the Door-2-Door killer have gotten milk into a senior center? You can’t just waltz into those kinds of facilities, can you?”

“No. There’s usually a check-in at the front.” Trish stared into the distance, equally puzzled.

Cooper grabbed her friend’s hand. “Oh, Trish. This is so awful!” She looked around for Nathan, longing for his comforting touch, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The volunteers began to drift inside, but Cooper didn’t want to be in the midst of the speculative talk about Erik’s guilt. Suddenly, she recalled an image of him and Violet giggling together, heads drawn close, shoulders touching. She remembered his contented smile earlier in the day. It was not the expression of a murderer reliving his sordid deeds, but of a man dreaming of a future with the woman he loved.

Without really thinking about her actions, Cooper got in her truck and headed for Violet’s house. She had little comfort to offer Violet, but perhaps having another person present who believed in her fiancé’s innocence would be a small balm.

Cooper didn’t pause long enough to consider that the woman who’d lost her sister and her future husband within hours might not be interested in receiving visitors.

16

Halfway to Violet and Velma’s, Cooper noticed that her truck was almost out of gas. She pulled into the closest Wawa. While the gas was pumping, she wandered over to the temporary tent near the vacuum station, where a young man wearing a green apron was selling cut flowers.

Cooper chose an arrangement of red, yellow, and orange gerbera daises mixed with a cluster of bittersweet for the grieving sisters. The boy wrapped the flowers in green tissue and tied them with a white ribbon. He chatted and smiled the whole time, and though Copper wanted to be friendly, she felt too numb to respond beyond a nod and a murmur of thanks.

There were no cars parked in front of Violet’s house when Cooper arrived, but the porch light was on. She didn’t know if it had been burning throughout the night and took it as a sign that she should go forward with her visit.

Velma answered Cooper’s gentle knock, but only after peering hesitantly through a crack between the wooden door and the locked screen door.

“Do you remember me, ma’am?” Cooper said, holding the flowers in front of her like a peace offering. “I was here with Erik last week.”

“Of course, child.” Velma unlocked the outer door and shuffled backward. “Come in.”

The air in the house felt heavy and still. Velma led Cooper to the sunporch and sank into the same chair she had occupied during Cooper’s last visit. The old woman seemed to have shrunk since then. Her face was especially pale and her eyes were dull and somnolent. Cooper laid the flowers carefully on the table and took the seat facing Velma.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” she said, wishing she could think of a more original expression of condolence. “For everything that’s happened. Can I do anything for you? Get you some groceries or run errands? I have the whole day free and I’d love to help.”

Velma turned toward the window as if she hadn’t heard a word. “I gave her the milk, you know. Brought it with me during our visit like I always do. Vera wanted it. Had to have it. The center doesn’t serve Richfood milk, and Vera won’t touch another brand. We’ve been drinking Richfood milk since we were little girls and it’s the only one Vera recognizes. She’d get real put out with me if I didn’t bring her that milk.” Her profile was etched with pain. “So I brought it to her every visit. How she smiled when she took that first sip. You’d have thought it was a bottle of Coca-Cola. We weren’t allowed to drink soda pop when we lived at home.”

Cooper touched the old woman’s dry, bony hand. “You didn’t do this to her, Velma. Someone else did. It’s not your fault.”

Velma’s eyes flashed and Cooper caught a glimpse of the woman she’d met a week ago. “I’ll tell you one thing—Erik didn’t do this. I know that man and it wasn’t him. Those police—they wouldn’t listen to me!” She gripped Cooper’s arm. “You have to talk to them! Make them see the light!”

“I will,” Cooper promised. “I believe he’s innocent, too. But why do they think he’s guilty?”

“Because he came with us to visit Vera. Violet wanted them to meet since she and Erik planned to marry in a few weeks.” Velma sighed. “Vera wouldn’t have understood who Erik was, but it was important to Violet that he shake hands with her other sister. But Erik never got to meet her. When we got to her room, we realized that the nurses were helping Vera take a shower, so we decided to bring him back another time.”

“This was Friday?” Cooper asked.

Velma nodded. “Right after lunch. They found Vera the next morning. She left this earth sometime in the night, but she was sitting up in bed with her magazine on her lap, like she was just taking a break in the middle of reading a long story.”

“And you told the police that Erik never actually saw your sister?”

“I certainly did, but he was in her room and that’s all they seemed to care about!”

Cooper fell silent, feeling that the only service she could provide at the moment was to listen. She rubbed the older woman’s hand gently, silently reassuring her that she had all the time in the world to sit with her.

“Vera was an old woman,” Velma said matter-of-factly. “Her mind hadn’t been right for a long time and now she’s with our Lord. If someone hadn’t sent her to heaven before she was called, I could be at peace with her passing, but my heart is heavy. Violet’s shut up in the bedroom, refusing to eat or speak, and the wrong man’s been arrested.” A single tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek.

“I wish I had more comfort to give you, but I can tell you that this is not an open-and-shut case for the police,” Cooper told Velma. “All of the other victims were robbed. When they search Erik’s home, they won’t find the stolen items or a pile of extra money in his bank account. Most importantly, Erik has no motive. His dreams came true when Violet agreed to marry him.”

Velma dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve and looked at Cooper hopefully. “But he had the opportunity to mess with the milk or leave it on Vera’s nightstand during our visit. Isn’t that enough?”

“To hold him for questioning, but that’s it,” Cooper said. “Of course, it would be better if they had someone else to question. I hate to picture Erik in a cell.” She paused to once again consider the desires and behaviors of the other volunteers.

“I’m going to get these flowers a drink,” Velma whispered and walked away.

Thoughts whirled around in Cooper’s mind and she tried desperately to sort through the tangle of images and ideas in search of something useful.

“Is there a visitors’ log at Vera’s living center?” she asked when Velma returned bearing a white pottery pitcher and a pair of scissors.

“There sure is. During the day, you sign your name and put down the name and room number of the person you’re going to visit. There’s a gal working up front and she waves folks through unless she doesn’t recognize them. We never have to sign in, of course, and neither do deliverymen. Things get stricter in the evening. I believe they lock the outside door after eight, but we rarely visit that late.”

Cooper frowned. “I’m not so sure if reviewing those sign-up sheets will help much, but I’m confident the police will look them over closely.” She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, thinking hard. “What about the nurses? Wouldn’t they have noticed a stranger entering Vera’s room?”

Velma shrugged. “I imagine so, but there are several shifts, and they also rotate halls quite often so they can get to know all the residents. There aren’t enough nurses to watch what’s happening in every room every minute. Someone could have dropped off that milk and been gone before anyone noticed.”

“I hope the police show photos of the Door-2-Door volunteers to the nurses. Maybe they’ll recognize the real killer. If he or she is really a volunteer.” Cooper tore the tissue paper wrapped around the flower stems. “Why would someone go after Vera? It doesn’t make sense. The other victims lived alone and owned something valuable that this crazy person wanted to possess.”

Velma reached for one of the flowers. “We don’t have anything worth taking, but Vera’s watch was special. Her husband gave it to her on their wedding day in the forties. It was from Tiffany’s and was gold. I suppose it’s worth a pretty penny by now.”

Cooper whistled. “I imagine you’re right.” She scowled. “But how would the killer know you brought your milk to Vera?”

“I’ve been doing it since the get-go. Either I mentioned it to one of the volunteers or Violet did. Maybe even Erik, but I don’t remember.”

“Did Violet drink her milk?”

“Nope. She gave hers to the police.”

As Velma eased the daises into the pitcher, Cooper stared at a hairline crack running beneath the handle to the base of the pottery container. The true killer was not unlike the flawed pitcher. He or she looked and acted completely normal, but in some way they were damaged. There was a fracture in their psyche that compelled them to steal and to commit the most grievous crime against another human being: murder.

“I need to review that suspect list we made at Quinton’s house,” she muttered to herself. “There has to be something we overlooked.”

At that moment, Violet appeared at the end of the hallway leading into the sunroom. For a second, Cooper thought she was seeing a ghost. Violet was dressed in a white bathrobe with a white shawl wrapped around her narrow shoulders; her slippered feet made no noise. Her white hair was loose and tumbled over her shoulders like a snowdrift. She clutched something against her chest and her amethyst engagement ring winked as she passed through a slim sunbeam.

“Violet. Our new friend has brought us daises.” Velma held her hand out for her sister. “And hope.”

Cooper offered her chair to Violet, who dropped into it without saying a word.

“She believes in Erik, too, Vi. She doesn’t think the police will be able to keep him too long.” Velma touched her sister’s knee. “We should get ourselves together. They’re going to want to talk to us more. If you want to help Erik, we must trust in the Lord and shake off our despair.”

“It’s always been the three of us,” Violet whispered, looking down at the framed photograph she grasped so tightly. “Maybe it was a sin to love another. Look what happened after I gave in to my feelings.”

“That’s hogwash and you know it!” Velma spoke sharply. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. It was my milk, after all.”

“The fault lies with the horrible person who poisoned the milk—not with either of you,” Cooper gently interjected. “You are both victims, just as Vera was a victim. Just like the other seniors.” Cooper lowered her voice. “I believe God delights in love, Violet. I saw the joy in Erik’s eyes and anyone could tell that his heart was singing. How could that not please every ear in heaven?”

“She’s right, Vi, and you know it.” Velma crossed her arms and sat up straighter in her chair.

Violet looked at Cooper and nodded in gratitude. “Thank you for coming today. I hear the truth in your words.” She held out the photograph so that the light fell onto it. “I’m just having a terrible time thinking about the years to come without Vera being with us. I feel like part of my self has been ripped away. Even though she didn’t always know us, we were still together. We were family.” She traced a thin finger along the wooden frame. “Now someone’s taken her from us and I’m just so damned angry! It’s God’s right and His alone to call His children home.”

“I’m angry, too,” Cooper said softly. “Someone has worn a mask of goodness and charity in order to do evil, and my friends and I haven’t been able to see the true face of this person. I can’t understand why I can’t see more clearly.”

“That’s what Vera used to say when we were girls,” Violet said with a hesitant smile. “She had glasses all her life. Always picked out the wildest ones in the store, too, didn’t she, Velma?” She held the photograph out for Cooper to see. “This was taken last year by one of Vera’s nurses. Look at those beauties my sister’s wearing!”

Cooper cradled the picture carefully in her hands and examined the image of the three sisters. Unlike the ones on display in the living room, this photograph, which Violet had carried out from her bedroom, showed the women in their old age. Velma and Violet were seated in hard-backed chairs on either side of their sister, who was comfortably ensconced in a peach-colored upholstered chair. Cooper’s eyes took in Vera’s face and the frame nearly slipped from her paralyzed fingers.

“Oh, no!” she gasped.

Thrusting the photograph into Violet’s hands, Cooper dug around inside her purse until she came up with Rector’s card. With trembling fingers, she jabbed at the number pad of her cell phone.

When he picked up after half a dozen rings, Cooper was feeling dizzy and breathless. “It’s Cooper Lee and this is urgent. I think I know who the killer is!”

Rector listened carefully to what she had to say and then told her to stay put. Without another word, he abruptly ended the phone call. Cooper held the phone in her hand and then glanced back at the photograph of the three sisters.

Could I be right? She stared at the similar smiles, the crinkles of skin at the corners of their eyes, the age-spotted hands holding on to one another. How could someone be that vile? Someone I thought was truly good.

Suddenly, she felt she was going to be sick. “Excuse me!” she called out to the bewildered sisters in a panicked voice and dashed down the hall.

She made it to the bathroom just in time and dropped to her knees over the toilet as her stomach emptied itself. When the nausea eventually passed, she sat back against the wall and took several deep breaths. Her skin was clammy and strands of sweat-dampened hair clung to her forehead.

Closing her eyes, memories of her Saturdays at Door-2-Door flooded her mind. She recalled the celebratory atmosphere of their potluck dinner, the playful dancing, the feeling of partnership in accompanying the volunteers on their routes. These pleasant images were immediately dimmed by the troubled countenances of Frank Crosby, the Colonel, and now, of Velma and Violet.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, there was a gentle tap and Violet peeked around the door.

“Are you okay, honey?”

Cooper managed to drag herself to a standing position. “Yes, ma’am. Let me just wash up and I’ll be right out.”

She scrubbed her hands vigorously and then leaned over and rinsed her mouth directly from the tap, gurgling to remove the foul taste from the back of her throat.

When she returned to the sunporch, Violet handed her a cup of hot tea. “This’ll settle your stomach and help calm your nerves.”

After taking a tentative sip, Cooper blew a mist of steam from the surface of the milky tea and drank another swallow, marveling at the restorative powers of the tea. “Thank you. I feel much better already.” Allowing her body to relax a fraction, she looked at the stricken faces patiently awaiting an explanation. “When I saw that picture”—she quickly pointed at the photograph so as not to hold the sisters in suspense another second—“I knew which of the volunteers was the murderer. One of them—a man—introduced us to a woman he claimed was his grandmother. When I looked at Vera’s face and saw her purple glasses, I knew that this man had introduced us to your sister.”

“Are you sure?” Violet asked with an expression of disbelief.

“It wasn’t just the purple rhinestone glasses, though those are pretty unique,” Cooper told her with confidence. “It’s Vera’s eyes. They look out on the world like this man’s Grandma Helen’s did. Her gaze, it’s, it was . . .” Cooper didn’t know how to describe the feeling of vacancy implied by Vera’s stare without offending her sisters.

“Like she wasn’t all there?” Velma suggested.

Cooper nodded. “Kind of absent, yet very content. I met Vera at a potluck dinner my Bible study group hosted for the volunteers. Erik was there, too, but since he hadn’t met your sister before or seen a current photograph of her, he also thought she was this other man’s grandmother.” She gave the sisters a weak smile. “Vera seemed perfectly happy at the dinner. I want you to know that she wasn’t mistreated in any way. In fact, she enjoyed the food and tapped on the table with her fork and knife when the band played.”

Violet grinned. “Vera always loved music. Any loud sounds, actually. Especially after she started forgetting things, she loved to hear a strong rain or a bowling ball striking pins.”

“Or bingo tiles?” Cooper asked, trying to keep the revulsion she felt about Warren’s duplicity out of her voice.

“One of her favorite noises,” Velma agreed. She then looked at Cooper in horror. “So you’re saying that this person, this man who . . . killed my sister, actually led her around like some kind of pet before he took her life?”

Cradling her teacup for warmth, Cooper struggled to come up with an answer. “I don’t know what his motives were, ma’am. And I’m sorry if I’ve caused you more grief by revealing all this. To tell you the truth, and I know this sounds crazy, but this man acted like he really cared for your sister. It was like he really believed she was his grandmother. I can’t explain what caused him to turn from the conscientious person who cut up Vera’s food and fetched her punch and dessert into the monster who took several lives.”

“Of course you can’t, dear.” Violet shook her head in sorrow. “None of us can wrap our minds around how such a twisted soul operates and I doubt we ever will. The Lord will judge this man and he will be found wanting, I’m sure of that.” She returned her hands to her lap and tried to stop them from shaking. “Are the police going to get him now?”

“Yes,” Cooper whispered soberly. “He lives in his family’s farmhouse out in Louisa. They’re on their way now.”

The three women fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Cooper finished her tea and a heavy drowsiness seemed to fall over her. She longed to go home and curl up on the sofa. Perhaps she’d call Nathan and ask him to drive out to see her. She’d like nothing more than to lie in his arms for a few hours, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat.

“I’m going to wash this teacup,” she said and stood. “Can I bring you anything?”

Velma shook her head. “We’re going to sit here for a spell. I imagine we won’t have much quiet later on, so we should rest while we can.” She reached out with both of her arms and Cooper put down the teacup and accepted the old woman’s tender embrace. “They’ll release Erik because of you. Bless you, child.”

Cooper then turned and hugged Violet. All three women had tears running from their eyes. Shock, grief, anger, and the desperate desire to cling to hope was too much to hold inside.

“I wish I’d known sooner,” Cooper whispered into Violet’s hair. “Your sister could have been spared. Forgive me.” She sniffed and then, drawing away from Violet, pressed a napkin against her face.

“There is nothing to forgive.” Violet managed a tremulous smile. “You brought daisies, kindness, and justice into our home today. You’re a true friend to us and to Erik.”

Velma wagged a finger at Cooper. “You stay in touch now, young lady. We have a wedding to invite you to once we’re done grieving for our Vera. There will be laughter yet in these rooms if I’ve got any say in the matter.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cooper dried her eyes, cleaned up the tea things, and showed herself out.

Standing on the cement walkway, she was temporarily blinded by the brilliance of the afternoon sun.

“It’s over.” She glanced up at the fiery yellow and crimson-tinged treetops. A breeze whispered through the leaves. And birds flitted among the branches. Cooper stood with her face upturned, relishing the peace. Closing her eyes, she welcomed the cleansing light.

17

As Cooper climbed the steps to her apartment her legs felt like they were made of cement. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a rectangle of warm light spilling from the kitchen window of her parents’ house below. It was a comfort to imagine her mother moving around inside, humming as she added ingredients to bubbling saucepans and then knocking the oven door closed with her hip.

Columbus squawked from within his aviary and Cooper silently promised to walk him later. Inside her apartment, she flopped on the sofa and switched on the television, hoping to find a show that could take her mind off the Door-2-Door killer.

HGTV provided the perfect pictorial balm. As the cameras panned over banks of perennial beds blooming alongside a quaint stone cottage nestled somewhere in the English countryside, Cooper felt her body sink deeper into the cushions. Her lids grew heavy and by the time the show’s narrator turned his attention to the charming home’s herb garden, Cooper was on the cusp of sleep.

When the Beatles burst into song from the speaker of her cell phone, which was buried at the bottom of her purse, she decided to ignore it. Repositioning herself on the sofa, she slipped her arm under a throw pillow, pulled a crocheted afghan over her legs, and prepared to take a restorative nap.

Her cell phone sang again.

“Damn it,” Cooper muttered crossly. She opened her eyes but didn’t get up.

This time, the caller left a message. Cooper’s phone, which had an annoying habit of repeatedly chirping whenever she had a new voice mail, issued its first alert signal.

“So much for a rest.” She swung her legs onto the floor and sat upright for a moment, reluctant to stand up. When the alert sounded again, she threw off her blanket in irritation and grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter.

Bringing the phone to life with the touch of a button, Cooper noticed that the calls had both come from Rector. Regretting that she hadn’t answered him the first time, she was just about to prompt her phone to dial his number when a voice commanded, “I’d like you to put that down. Right now.”

Cooper swung around. Warren was leaning against the door frame leading into her bathroom. He held a snack-sized plastic bag filled with what looked like crushed brown leaves in his hand and his eyes glinted with a strange and ominous light.

Without looking away from Warren, Cooper’s thumb edged toward the send button.

Warren shook the bag and gave her a crooked grin. “Don’t do it or your family will suffer. You see, we had a little tea party while you were out.”

The phone clattered to the floor as the implications of Warren’s words hit home. Cooper’s voice was taut with anger and fear. “What have you done to them?”

Warren shrugged. “I just introduced myself as one of your volunteer friends and invited them to taste my unique blend of Lipton’s Cranberry Pomegranate and Jimsonweed.” He held up three syringes. “But don’t worry, if they’re given a shot of this lorazepam they should make it to the hospital without having a seizure. Jimsonweed can make some people really agitated. Not good for the heart at all.”

“Jimsonweed?” Cooper was confused, and that made her feel even more frightened. “Is that some kind of poison?”

Again, the crooked smile. “It can be. But I’m disappointed in you, Cooper. You’re a country girl. And a gardener. I thought I could count on you to recognize the beauty and versatility of my favorite herb.”

“Sorry, but I don’t.”

Gesturing at her kitchen chair, Warren moved forward a step. “Have a seat and I’ll tell you about it. I guess that you don’t recognize my plant because while you are out in the sticks, you don’t live near any farms. When I was a kid, Jimsonweed grew all over the edges of our cow pastures. It produces pretty purple or white bell-shaped flowers, but my grandparents warned me never to touch them because the seeds hold power.”

“The power to make people sleep?” Cooper asked. “All they need to do is ingest the seeds?”

Pleased, Warren dipped his chin. “Correct. The Indians—excuse me—the Native Americans used Jimsonweed in their sacred ceremonies. I think it was the Navajo who had a little chant about it.” His voice changed to a childlike singsong. “‘Eat a little, and go to sleep. Eat some more, and have a dream. Eat some more, and don’t wake up.’ That’s pretty accurate.”

“That’s why Frank Crosby lost a day. You didn’t give him enough to kill him, but he slept for almost twenty-four hours.” Cooper looked away in disgust.

“It wasn’t my intention to have him sleep any longer. Not that time. I was trying to get him to tell me where he’d hidden the rest of his Civil War treasures. I knew he was holding out on me and people will spill their secrets more freely after swallowing a bit of my special brew.” Warren fondled the bag of tea leaves. “I got bored trying to understand his gibberish about yellow this and coward that, so I decided that he needed to move on. He was tired of life.”

“Is that why you killed all those people? Because you thought they were done living?” Despite her fears, Cooper wanted to understand Warren’s motives. If she could pretend to be sympathetic and learn about how the poison worked, she might be able to save her family.

“Of course they were done!” Warren spat. “They were poor, lonely, and pathetic. No one should end up in such an undignified state. That’s what happened to my grandparents. They were the ones who raised me. Then age started getting the better of them. They got stupid and weak and gullible and sold our land for nothing.” His hands gripped the tea bag until the leaves were crushed beneath his fingers. “I’ve had to work two jobs since I turned sixteen. All through my twenties, when I should have been having fun and seeing the world, I worked to keep the three of us afloat. And when they got so that I couldn’t take care of them, I calculated how much it would cost to put them in a nursing home and I knew I couldn’t take any more!” He relaxed his hands and made a clear effort to calm himself. “So I gave them a gentle way out.”

“But Mrs. Davenport wasn’t lonely,” Cooper argued softly. “She had her daughter.”

“That witch?” Warren spluttered. “All she wanted was her mama’s jewelry. I was over there once when she was cleaning it. She asked to try on that necklace every time, saying that it looked better on her and that her mama was too old to wear it, but Mrs. Davenport liked to remember her husband by looking at it. She wanted to be with him. She’d told me that a dozen times, so I granted her wish.” He smirked. “And there was no way I was going to let that greedy daughter have the jewelry, so I took it.”

“Please,” Cooper spoke plaintively. “I care about my family more than anything in the world. They’re not ready to let go. We’re happy the way we are. Please let me help them.”

“Tell me the story behind your butterfly pin,” Warren said instead, sitting down at the table next to Cooper. “I’ve never seen you without it.”

Cooper stroked the filigree wings as if she could draw strength from the thin silver. “It was my grammy’s. She gave it to me when I was going through a rough time. My grandpa gave it to her for the same reason.”

“Would you say that it’s your most prized possession?” Warren leaned closer to her and Cooper tried not to flinch.

She cupped her hand over the pin, obscuring it from Warren’s covetous gaze. “That’s how you decided what you were going to steal. You took the one thing each person valued most. Mr. Manningham’s coin, Mrs. Davenport’s necklace, Frank Crosby’s sword, and Vera’s watch.”

“I collect a fee for my services,” Warren said blithely. “I also needed portable wealth in case I had to relocate in a hurry.”

“But no one here requires your services. My family makes the most of every day.” Seeing that her words had no effect on Warren at all, Cooper took surreptitious glances around her kitchen in search of a handy weapon. To distract him while she tried to concoct a plan, she asked, “Why Vera, Warren? Why did you treat her like a grandmother and then murder her? I saw you with her at the volunteer dinner. You were so gentle, so attentive. I admired how you cared for her.”

For the first time, Warren seemed uncomfortable. He picked at the red crust of a tomato sauce stain on the edge of Cooper’s table. “I missed Grandma Helen. She and Vera were a lot alike. I could tell Vera anything and she was always happy to see me. Even when she couldn’t remember my name, she’d smile like she knew me.”

Cooper tried to recall the specifics of Warren’s job.

“And as the pickup guy for LabTech, you visit nursing homes. That’s how you met Vera in the first place.”

“Nursing homes, hospitals, medical office parks. I see old people everywhere I go. Half of them have no spirit left. They sap up the government’s money, make it necessary for thousands of able-bodied adults to give volunteer time and money to keep them alive, and all they do is look to their past—obsessing over loved ones that are long gone.”

“How did you get Vera out of the center?” Cooper asked. “Didn’t anyone challenge you? After all, if her sisters found out you were borrowing her, they’d have reported you in a heartbeat.”

Warren waved off the suggestion. “Oh, please. One of Vera’s regular nurses has a thing for me. I told her how much I missed my grandmother and that I’d like to bestow my affection on someone like her, and this woman practically rolled out the red carpet and packed the wheelchair into my trunk. She’s how I found out about Vera’s milk quirks and which days her sisters would visit. Such an agreeable lady—the nurse—but a bit old for me.” He laughed dryly.

Cooper could feel the seconds ticking by. What was happening to her family? Were they asleep? Hallucinating? Having heart issues as Warren had insinuated? “It’s not our job to decide when people are ready to die,” she told him quietly.

Warren resumed his arrogant, straight-backed posture. “I believe that eventually, we’ll all be turned off like a light when we reach a certain age. It’s the humane thing to do. My teas are such an inexpensive and painless way to administer a dose of everlasting peace.”

“You’re crazy,” Cooper whispered and instantly realized her mistake. She couldn’t afford to upset Warren. He was a calculating, unhinged murderer and the lives of her beloved family members depended on her remaining calm. “What I mean is that you could have had your real Grandma Helen, but you let her go. Why release Vera when you had a relationship with her?”

“She begged me to end it!” Warren exclaimed. “Vera had lucid moments like Helen did, and just like Helen, it made her sick to know how mixed up her mind was. She knew she was a burden on her two sisters. She talked to me about how they’d spent all of their savings paying her medical bills. The guilt was eating her up.” Cooper was surprised to see that Warren’s eyes were wet. “Vera knew about the others. She knew about the Jimsonweed. She told me I’d done right. She asked me to put it in her milk, so I did.”

“The poisoned milk wasn’t from Velma or Violet’s Sunday sandwich bag?”

Warren shook his head. “No. It was just a milk carton I took from Door-2-Door’s cooler. Jimsonweed doesn’t taste too good, so I was forced to use smelly herbal tea on everyone else, but Vera knew what she was drinking and didn’t care. She wanted her last drink to be milk because it made her feel like a girl, so that’s what I gave her.” His eyes bored into Cooper’s. “I knew you’d find me out if you ever saw a picture of Vera, so I’ve been following you. I saw you go into the house where her sisters live, so I crept around back and watched all three of you through a window. I know the cops are probably at my place right now.”

“Then why are you here?” Cooper wanted to know.

Placing an unnaturally cold hand over hers, Warren said, “I came for you. I’m hitting the road and I’d like some company. You’re smart and funny and pretty. I think you’ll grow to understand me with time.” His look hardened. “Come with me and your family lives. It’s as simple as that.”

Cooper swallowed. Her time was running out. Warren had explained his motives and his methods. He was done talking and ready to act. Cooper had little doubt that he’d let her family succumb to the effects of the Jimsonweed, so she knew her only hope was to agree with his warped notion that he’d provided a kind service to the elderly. If she could convince him, he might let down his guard and she could save herself and her family.

“I see what you’re saying about senior citizens,” she said after taking a deliberate pause. “My grammy misses everyone who’s gone on ahead of her, too. Especially her husband. I guess when you spend most of your life with someone and then they’re suddenly not there anymore, you feel like half a person.” Cooper met Warren’s curious stare. His hand slid away from hers. “She hasn’t been eating well lately and she’s getting depressed. Maybe she’d want . . .” She trailed off, acting uncertain.

“What Vera wanted? Maybe you’re realizing that it’s her time? Before you have to put her in a home where someone has to help her go to the bathroom, take showers, and eat? Before her care uses every dime your parents have? Or your savings?” Warren’s expression was wolfish. “See? I’m not so crazy now, am I?”

Cooper hesitated and then mutely shook her head. “No. You’ve released people from suffering. I’m sorry that your good intentions weren’t clear to me before.” Reaching across the table, she touched his sleeve. “I’ll come with you. No protests, no games.”

He eyed her distrustfully, but a spark of hope ignited his face at the same time. “Why should I believe you?”

Unpinning the silver butterfly from her shirt, Cooper placed it in Warren’s cold palm. She closed his fingers around the wings and held on to his hand. It was one of the most difficult things she’d ever done. Touching his flesh repulsed her, but her desperation to aid her family forced her to return his suspicious stare with as much sincerity as she could muster.

“The cops will be here soon. Since you told them all about me, they’re sure to check on you when they don’t find me at home,” Warren finally said in a flat voice. “But that’s okay. My bags have been packed for a while.” He glanced around the kitchen. “I’ll have to put you to the test before we go. I don’t want any dramatics on the road.” He gestured at the cabinets behind them. “Get me a coffee cup and fill it with water.”

Hastening to do as she was told, Cooper selected a white mug covered by van Gogh’s Irises.

“Now, a spoon,” Warren ordered pleasantly as he opened the Ziploc. “The seeds are very toxic. A small bit will cause hallucinations and short-term memory loss.” He measured out his blend of Jimsonweed and tea. “My little plant has so many names. So many faces. Did you know that when Virginia was an English colony we used this stuff against British soldiers at Jamestown? Grown men in their prime ran around like lunatics. Dancing naked. Spilling all their secrets. The next day, they couldn’t remember a thing. Aren’t Virginians crafty?” He stirred the mixture until the clear water mutated into a pale brown that resembled beef broth.

Cooper watched his movements with morbid fascination. “So you didn’t give my family enough tea to kill them?”

Warren shook his head. “No. They’re just napping. But this cup of tea will release your grammy for good.” He tapped the butterfly pin, which was within reach of his left hand. “And I will keep this to remember her by. The other things I’ll sell when we find a new place to live.”

“And where’s that?” Cooper’s voice was much lighter now that she knew her parents and grandmother weren’t in immediate danger. Of course, Warren could be lying. He was a master of deceit, but she felt that he’d revealed himself to her and had no cause to tell her partial truths after confessing all that he’d done.

“First, I need to believe that you and I understand each other.” He eased the hot mug into Cooper’s hand. “Careful. Don’t spill any.”

Leading Cooper to her front door, he jerked it open and then stepped back in surprise. A tall figure darkened the doorway, and before Cooper knew it Warren was falling backward onto her. Unbalanced, she flung the cup of tea from her hand and an arc of scalding liquid landed on Warren’s scalp.

He didn’t even cry out.

Before she could make sense of what was happening, Cooper was knocked flat. Her head banged against the floor with a commanding thud and she moaned as pain splintered from the point of contact and radiated through her skull and down the vertebrae of her neck. It was so sharp that she squeezed her eyes shut and saw stars instead of blackness.

She felt a pair of hands touch her face. A familiar voice whispered softly near her still-ringing ear. She couldn’t make out the words, but when she was able to open her eyes, she saw Nathan bending over her. He smiled and then brushed her hair from her forehead and kissed her tenderly on the cheek and then again on the lips.

Cooper was content to lie motionless as sounds filled her apartment. She hadn’t fully realized that Warren’s unconscious form was draped over her legs until he was lifted off her. The pain in her head had dulled somewhat; its jagged edges had softened.

“I’m going to carry you to your bed,” Nathan murmured softly to her. “Do you think it’s okay for me to move you? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Cooper glanced at the hand he was using to stroke her hair and saw rivulets of bright blood running from his knuckles to his wrist.

“What happened?” she whispered.

Instead of answering, Nathan gathered her into his arms with infinite care. She put her hands on his shoulders and rested her head against his chest. The smell of his body and the feel of his wool sweater against her cheek made her feel safe.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Nathan said as he gently eased her onto the bed. Cooper felt a tear fall onto the bridge of her nose and was startled to recognize that her boyfriend was weeping.

“Shhh. It’s all right now.” She cradled his face in her hands and then pulled his mouth to hers. She kissed him once and then pressed her forehead against his.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made her look up.

“Daddy!” Cooper cried in relief and then winced as the ache in her head intensified for a moment.

Earl took Cooper’s hand in his and gave it a tiny squeeze. He then turned to Nathan and smiled at him. “Reckon our girl’s going to be all right. Our uninvited guest is all trussed up. Mama called the police and they’re on the way.” He glanced over his shoulder. “What are you doing, Maggie?”

“He’s waking up!” Cooper’s mother called out. “I’m just making sure you tied these knots good and tight.” Maggie appeared in the room seconds later and put her arm around Nathan. “Your man’s got a powerful right hook, sweetheart. He knocked that boy flat! Of course, we were there for backup, but he had no need of us.” She held up a rolling pin. “It’s too bad, though. Grammy really wanted to club him with this, but she didn’t feel like climbing the stairs.”

Immensely relieved to see her parents in perfect health, Cooper began to laugh at the absurd image of Grammy thumping Warren over the head with Maggie’s rolling pin.

“We should have let her at him,” Nathan said. “A little payback from the senior citizen community would have been totally appropriate.”

Earl cocked his head. “I hear the cavalry coming. I’ll go meet them downstairs before Mama starts telling them how to do their jobs.” He put a hand on Nathan’s shoulders. “Nicely done, young man. We’re in your debt.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Maggie beamed at him. “And here I thought we were just going to have supper together.” She walked to the other side of Cooper’s bed and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Now let me have a look at that bump.”

Cooper allowed her mother to inspect her bruised head.

“No blood,” Maggie murmured. “You got bigger lumps than this learning to ride your bike. I’ll get you some ice and you’ll need to take it easy for a day or two.” She removed Cooper’s butterfly pin from her apron pocket and frowned. “I’ll put this in a hot vinegar bath. Get rid of the germs on it.”

“Hold on a sec, Mama. Aren’t you feeling sleepy after drinking Warren’s tea?”

Maggie blinked in bewilderment. “Maybe you should see a doctor,” she said as Earl led a group of policemen into Cooper’s apartment. “We didn’t eat or drink anything with that awful man. In fact, we never set eyes on him until Nathan punched his lights out.” She gestured at his bloodied hand. “And don’t think I’m going to let you go anywhere without cleaning those cuts, mister. When we’re all tidied up, we’ll have a nice supper and get ourselves calmed down.”

“I don’t think Investigator Rector is going to allow us to have a leisurely dinner.” Cooper sighed at the disagreeable idea of spending an evening at the police station. “He’ll want to take our statements right away.”

Tapping her rolling pin against the flat of her palm, Maggie said, “You two have done enough for now. You leave that policeman to me. If he wants to talk to either of you, he can do it after dessert!”

18

For the first time since the inception of their group, the Sunrise Bible Study members ignored the usual array of pastries and carafe of aromatic coffee. They all spoke at once, peppering Nathan and Cooper with question after question about the events of the previous evening.

“I still can’t get over the image of Warren waiting for you in your apartment,” Bryant said during a brief lull. “And look at you! You seem totally normal despite what you went through.”

“It’s too creepy,” Trish muttered. “Like a scene from Psycho. How did you ever get to sleep last night?”

Cooper touched the sore spot on the back of her head. “Having supper with my family was the best medicine. And of course, Nathan offered to sleep on the couch, but by the time we’d all had our second cup of decaf and another serving of my mama’s apple tart covered in warm caramel sauce, I was too full to be afraid. All I did was change into my pajamas and fall into bed.” She glanced at her friends. “Tonight may be a different story.”

Quinton drew Cooper into a one-armed hug. “We’re so glad that you’re safe.”

Bryant nudged Nathan in the side. “How did you happen to be there, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor?”

Nathan colored. “It’s a really strange story, actually. I was in the Kroger parking lot when I noticed that a Make It Work! van had been damaged by a yellow Hummer. I thought Cooper might have been driving the van, so I jumped out of my car to see if she was okay.”

“Was it you?” Jake asked Cooper.

“No,” Nathan said. “It was her boss and a coworker, a woman named Angela. Anyway, the Hummer driver obviously planned to leave the scene, but a minivan was blocking his exit. The guy got out of his truck and took off running, but Angela’s little dog chased after him. The thing probably weighed three pounds, but it tripped him up. By the time the cops arrived we had the man immobilized in the back of the Make It Work! van. As it turned out, I knew the driver,” Nathan added enigmatically.

Savannah, who’d been listening intently, shook her cane at Nathan. “I can’t take the suspense, my friend!”

“Sorry,” Nathan hastened to finish his tale. “Do you remember when we started studying Joseph and I was having that dream about a person outside my door? Well, I believe that person represented Tobey Dodge, the client I took on with some reservations. As I’ve now discovered, Tobey is a crook and a low-life swindler. And I totally fell for his act.”

“Me too,” Cooper added. “He was a real smooth talker. He convinced us that his products would help people.”

“I’d been searching for him all week,” Nathan continued. “Dozens of clients wanted refunds because the Big Man muscle builders didn’t work. A few of them wanted to sue because the products had actually made them sick. Two men ended up in the hospital. Tobey’s clients believed they were buying all-natural products, but the Big Man muscle builders were actually animal steroids. They’re quite dangerous, but a heck of a lot cheaper than steroids made for humans.”

“What a snake!” Quinton declared. “You know, I’ve bought plenty of weight-loss products that made me feel pretty awful. Looking back, it’s a wonder I didn’t require medical care myself. Remember when all the diet stuff used to contain that dangerous fen-phen stuff? I think I’ve tried it all.”

Seeing the glum expression on Quinton’s face, Jake said, “I wouldn’t want there to be a pound less of you, my man.”

Trish gave Nathan an impatient wave, signaling for him to finish his story. “How does Tobey fit into the Kroger scene?”

“He was the guy in the Hummer! By the time the cops arrived and Cooper’s boss and I had finished coming up with a list of Tobey’s infractions, Mr. Farmer and I felt like old friends.”

“Go on,” Bryant prompted.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Cooper and I . . . we . . .”

Jake finished the sentence for him. “Have the hots for each other? We know, my man.”

As Cooper flushed bright pink, Nathan hurried to finish. “I’d been giving Cooper the cold shoulder all week because I thought, in a moment of total insanity, that she was involved with the new guy at work.”

“Which would never happen!” Cooper exclaimed. “Emilio is the perfect man for someone, but not me. He tried to kiss me in the break room but I wouldn’t let him. He thought I was playing hard-to-get so he sent me a text message saying that he wanted to get me alone in the break room again. The problem was that Nathan read the message.”

“And you didn’t give Cooper a chance to explain?” Trish swatted at Nathan. “You bad boy.”

“I know.” Nathan’s voice was contrite. “I was so tortured by that text that I asked Angela if there was something going on between Emilio and Cooper. That woman sure set me straight.”

“And then you went flying to Cooper’s house to apologize,” Savannah guessed.

Nathan nodded. “I passed a car parked on the side of the road about a half mile from her driveway. I knew I’d seen that car before, so I pulled over to check it out. A Door-2-Door cooler was on the front seat and a bunch of boxes and bags were in the back. It looked like someone was ready to go on a long trip.”

“And you guessed it was the killer,” Jake whispered, entranced.

“I felt like all the blood in my body surged through my heart at once. I don’t think I even remembered to breathe the rest of the way. I was imagining the worst . . .” Nathan’s voice cracked and he had to stop and collect himself. “I practically crashed through her parents’ screen door. I can’t even remember what I told them. They knew who I was and they trusted me immediately. The next thing I knew, we were storming up the stairs to Cooper’s apartment. I was so scared that I was too late . . .”

“It’s okay, Nathan,” Savannah said. “We would have been just as afraid. When we care about another person, our love is often mixed with fear. Look at Joseph’s father. Jacob loved young Joseph so much that he kept him by his side. Joseph didn’t tend the flocks or do the chores his brothers did. Fear and love prompted Jacob to hold Joseph close, but too much fear is destructive. Joseph was betrayed by his brothers and sent far from his homeland because Jacob treated him differently from the rest.”

“At least Jacob’s was a sweet ending,” Trish said.

“And a dignified one,” Quinton added. “Jacob prophesied the future of the tribes of Israel, blessed everyone, drew up his knees, and breathed his last.” Looking aggrieved, he sighed. “Warren’s victims weren’t fortunate enough to die like that. He took away precious time—the opportunity to experience life and all its joys and sorrows.”

Cooper bowed her head. She kept seeing the photograph of Vera in her mind’s eye. She was haunted by the old woman’s contented smile, the purple rhinestone glasses, and the childlike innocence shining in her eyes.

Separating herself from the others, she walked over to the food table and mechanically poured a cup of coffee. She could feel her friends watching her, their stares filled with compassion and concern.

“There is grief in this life,” Savannah spoke in a hushed tone. “Wrongs are done to good people every day. Sometimes it’s hard to understand the world we live in—the motives that drive folks to commit acts of violence. If we set aside our reasons to mourn for a moment, what do we have left? What have we gained by being placed in the center of these trying events?”

Bryant cleared his throat. “I’ve realized that I don’t know my mother as well as I should. I want her to feel at peace, and I need to find out what that means to her and make it happen.”

“I learned that we’re part of a bigger picture,” Quinton said. “We hear that in church all the time, but until this happened, it was just a phrase. Because of Trish, I met people in need of my help. And in helping them, I was the one who was enriched.”

Jake glanced at Trish. “We’d better get a bunch of people on board if we want to save Door-2-Door. I’ll talk to my boss about a sponsorship, but can your company swing a few more weeks?”

“Of course I’ll help.” Trish pointed at Quinton. “Can you convince your firm to sponsor a month or two? And maybe some of your clients? I’ve never asked my own clients to contribute to a cause, but it wouldn’t hurt to have flyers and a collection box at our office.”

Savannah nodded in approval. “I spoke to some of the elders last week and Hope Street is already organizing a group of volunteers. They’re also discussing creating a mission trip that’ll stay right here in Richmond and assist Door-2-Door clients with home repairs and such.”

“I’ll offer to spiff up their website. It could use an update,” Nathan said.

Cooper smiled at him. “As for me, I’ve been feeling like I have something left to do for Frank Crosby. I’m going to visit his son tomorrow afternoon, so please pray that I’ll find the right words to use when I tell him about the secret his daddy had been trying to keep hidden for so long. And about Warren.” She shrugged. “I’m more than a little intimidated by the Colonel. We’re from such different worlds, but I understand what you said about the bigger picture, Quinton. I think we need to take some risks if we truly want to be changed.”

“Well said, all of you.” Savannah closed her workbook. “I realize we didn’t review the homework questions, but I believe you have all grown incredibly during this study. I also want to say that I have never felt so united with a group of people in my life. When I think of the word family, I think of you.” She reached out and her hands were grasped by the rest of the group. “It is scary to love, but I love you, my friends. Now, let’s pray to the One who loves us most.”

• • •

Cooper invited her friends to join her after church in order to experience Sunday supper Lee-style.

Maggie had gone all out—roasting a turkey, making green bean casserole, homemade oyster stuffing, cranberry relish, mashed potatoes, caramelized yams, corn in butter sauce, sunflower rolls, and a smorgasbord of desserts. Though the food was formal, like a holiday dinner, the actual meal was not. The Lee table could only seat six, so the rest of the diners ate standing up, sitting in the living room, or, in Nathan and Cooper’s case, seated cross-legged on the floor.

“We ain’t seen this much company since Ashley’s weddin’!” Grammy exclaimed. “How you feelin’ these days, little darlin’?”

“Just fine, thank you.” Ashley kissed Grammy’s wrinkled cheek. “I’ll give you those grandbabies yet.”

“Then go get yourself another plate,” Grammy ordered. “Babies like to grow in a belly filled regularly with food.”

Once the supper plates had been cleared, desserts sampled, and coffee poured, Savannah whispered something into Jake’s ear and he exited the house expediently. Upon his return, he handed a rectangular package wrapped in butcher paper to Cooper’s grandmother.

“What’s this?” Grammy demanded, eyeing Jake with suspicion.

“It’s one of my paintings,” Savannah said. “A while back, Cooper told us how much the pin you gave her means to her. I’ve thought about that butterfly many times since then.” She smiled. “This is my way of thanking you for your story of hope and courage.”

Grammy squirmed in the face of the compliment. “Well, I’ve never done a single thing to merit that kind of praise, but I won’t say no to a present.” Ripping the paper with glee, Grammy beamed with pleasure as she gazed at Savannah’s work.

“Come on, Grammy,” Ashley prodded. “Turn it around and let us all see.”

“Keep your socks on, Granddaughter. I’m havin’ a fine time just soakin’ in this picture.” She handed the painting back to Jake and shuffled over to Savannah. “It’s right lovely. Thank you.” As the two women embraced, Maggie burst into tears.

“Isn’t the Lord amazing? Look how He’s brought all of us together!” she cried, dabbing at her brimming eyes with the corner of her apron. Cooper slipped an arm around her mother’s waist and simultaneously they bent down in order to properly examine the artwork.

The scene depicted Noah and his family stepping onto dry land for the first time in forty days and nights. The family members held hands as they raised their faces toward the sun-filled sky, seemingly oblivious to the stampede of freed animals bursting past them. Birds and insects filled the air and Cooper was amazed at the energy Savannah had managed to infuse into the movements of every creature, from a pair of ants to the magnificent grace of an antelope couple. Lions roared in rejoicing, elephants trumpeted in celebration of their survival, and a group of primates launched themselves into the trees with rapturous animation.

The most personal detail of the painting, however, had to do with the rainbow stretching across the horizon as a reminder of God’s covenant. Unlike most rainbows, which seemed like ephemeral blurs of pale color, Savannah’s rainbow was alive—literally. Brilliant shades of violet, indigo, emerald, saffron, pumpkin, and crimson were represented by dozens and dozens of butterflies. The beautiful insects had been designed so that their delicate wings touched one another, but not so completely that pinpricks of light couldn’t find their way through the openings.

“Amazing,” Maggie breathed. “You gave Mama more butterflies than she’s ever dreamed of havin’. And what these stand for . . . oh, it’s too lovely!” She began crying all over again.

To everyone’s surprise, Trish was weeping as well.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to detract from this moment, but I’ve been trying to keep my worries inside for days now and I just can’t.” She buried her face in her hands.

Maggie rubbed Trish’s back. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“I had a biopsy on Friday,” Trish whimpered. “I won’t get the results back until Wednesday, and the waiting is tearing me apart. Breast cancer runs in my family and I’ve been pretending like it can’t touch me. But it can and I’m frightened!”

Cooper watched her mother stroke her friend’s copper hair and murmur into her ear.

“No matter what the results are,” Bryant said to Trish, “we’ll be here for you.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, you tell us what you need.”

Trish pulled away from Maggie and looked at her friends, her expression anguished. Grammy rubbed at her chin and then locked eyes with Cooper. Immediately comprehending what Grammy was silently telling her, Cooper unpinned the silver butterfly from her cardigan and gently fastened it to Trish’s umber-hued suit jacket.

Cooper took her friend’s hand in hers. “Wherever you go. We’re right there.”

Later, after Cooper’s friends had gone home, Cooper and Grammy took Columbus out for his final flight of the day. With the hawk on her left arm and her grandmother clutching her right, Cooper felt amazingly balanced considering the experiences of the past few weeks.

“I hope this doesn’t sound weird,” Cooper began once the hawk had jumped from her arm and circled skyward. “But this tragedy with the Door-2-Door folks has me thinking. You’ve been such an important part of my life, Grammy, and—”

“Don’t go pushin’ me in the grave yet, girlie!” Grammy interrupted with a cackle. “I walked all the way out to this here fence in case you weren’t payin’ attention. No need to talk about me like I’m on the way out.”

Cooper smiled at her grandmother, soaking up the laugh lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes, the soft white curls of her hair, the delicateness of her hands. For once, she didn’t notice age spots or wrinkles, the shiny tracksuit or mismatched argyle socks, but only a strong, determined, and loyal woman who placed her family above all other things.

“I just wanted to know if you felt like you’d missed out on something. Is there anything I could do to, I don’t know, to fulfill a wish?” Cooper finished, feeling a bit lame in her inability to express what she wanted to say.

Grammy snorted. “Like takin’ me to climb a pyramid or toss a quarter into that famous fountain in Rome? That sort of thing?”

Cooper shrugged. “Yeah. Kind of.”

“I got a heart that beats, a mind that thinks, and two arms to put around the folks I love.” She squeezed Cooper’s hand. “My only wish is for you to be happy. Do that, and I’ve got everythin’ I ever wanted.”

As Columbus called out a cry of delight, his tawny feathers tinted gold by the waning light, Cooper hugged her grandmother. She held on to the small and bony frame until the first star winked into life above the ridge of trees.

• • •

The following Tuesday, when Cooper checked in at the lobby of Henrico County’s Jail West and requested a visit with Edward Crosby, she found that she wasn’t nervous at all.

Earlier in the day, Mr. Farmer had spontaneously declared that he was taking all of his employees to a well-deserved lunch at the Brazilian steak house. Though Cooper would have enjoyed such a sumptuous free lunch, she knew that keeping her promise to the Colonel was more important.

“That’s the place where they carve meat right there at your table!” Emilio had exclaimed when he heard the news. “Man, I’ve got the best job and the best girl in Richmond.”

“I don’t know about the best girl part,” Mr. Farmer had replied, shooting a coy grin in Angela’s direction, “but I’m glad you like your job.”

“What about you, Cooper?” Ben had playfully elbowed her in the side while Angela blew kisses at their boss. “Aren’t you just dying to watch Emilio polish off a barnyard’s worth of cow, pig, and fowl?”

“I’ll leave that pleasure to you,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “Though I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you for an hour.”

Ben grinned. “You mean, now that I’m not acting like a total jerk?”

“I mean, now that you’re more like your old self.”

“I’ll never be that again,” Ben said solemnly. “I’ve learned a lot about myself by going through this with Melissa.”

Cooper stopped organizing the morning’s work orders and looked at Ben in astonishment. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say her name! Ben and Melissa. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Nodding, Ben smiled. “It does. It really does.”

Waving good-bye to her coworkers, Cooper unwrapped the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she had brought from home and enjoyed a quiet lunch alone in the office kitchen. After a fifteen-minute break, she got busy with her afternoon repairs, which included removing a jammed paper clip from the inside of a scanner, fixing a malfunctioning stamp machine at the post office, and reprogramming a copier so that it chose eight-by-eleven sheets of paper instead of the legal-size documents it had insisted on producing no matter what paper tray had been selected.

Once every Make It Work! client had been completely satisfied, Cooper took her official lunch break at two thirty. That left her less than an hour to drive to the government complex and see the Colonel before visiting hours were over.

When he appeared in the partitioned room, Frank’s son seemed stunned that Cooper had actually returned.

“So the cops nailed the bastard who killed my dad?” he asked, his eyes fierce.

“Yes,” Cooper said somberly.

“I read about it in today’s paper. You meant what you said, didn’t you? That you were going to make things right and figure out the truth about Frank’s death.” He gazed at her with respect. “You’re the first person who’s ever kept a promise. You. A total stranger. Why did you do it? Why do you even care?”

Momentarily taken aback, Cooper wasn’t sure how to respond. Even though the Colonel had asked the question with no hostility, she felt offended. “I wanted you to know why your daddy hid that diary and why he was so obsessed about honor.” She then described the incidents surrounding Aaron Crosby’s history. “I thought if you knew, you might be able to forgive him.”

The Colonel rubbed his stubble in bewilderment. “Why did Frank have to let some relative destroy this generation of Crosbys? You have to admit—he was completely nuts.”

Cooper disagreed. “His fears no doubt hurt you and your mama, but there’s no reason why you can’t make the Crosby name shine again. It’s not too late.”

The Colonel smirked, unconvinced. “What? You’re going to pour holy water over my head and whisper some Bible mumbo-jumbo and expect that my life will be all nice and pretty? Just like that?” He snapped his fingers. “Damn, woman! I’ll get out in six months and go right back to the street. It’s what I know.”

“And end up back in here?” Cooper replied angrily. “Where’s the honor in that plan? All you need is for one person to believe in you—in your ability to change, to take a chance at a life that includes a regular job, an apartment, a few friends. Maybe even a girlfriend.”

Smiling for the first time since he sat down, the Colonel leaned forward. “You applying for the job?”

“Sorry, Colonel. I’m spoken for.” Cooper relished how wonderful it felt to utter that phrase. “But you can put me down on your list as a friend. As someone who truly believes in your potential.”

The Colonel seemed to withdraw and Cooper hoped that she hadn’t been too pushy. When he remained silently staring at her even after the guard warned him that his visit would be over in sixty seconds, she began to despair that she’d mishandled the situation completely.

With only seconds remaining, the Colonel abruptly whispered into the phone, “If we’re going to hang out in the future, then you’d better start calling me Edward.” He raised his hand to prevent her from speaking. “As for living the straight life, it’ll take a sign from above to make that happen.”

And with that, he hung up the phone and disappeared.

A sign? Cooper remained immobile in her seat for a few moments longer. What kind of sign?

Suddenly, she had an idea. Approaching the nearest guard, she asked him to deliver a folded strip of paper to Edward Crosby.

“I’ll be sure he gets it, ma’am.”

• • •

Later that afternoon, Cooper clocked out and headed for a strip mall on Broad Street. She and Nathan planned the evening relaxing at his house. Nathan had volunteered to cook a pizza and throw together a salad if Cooper promised to stop at a Redbox and rent a movie for them to watch after dinner.

“I should warn you that I plan to rent a romantic comedy,” she told him over the phone once she’d come to a stop in the Walgreens parking lot. “I need to watch something with a happy ending.”

“I’m a fan of those kinds of endings myself,” Nathan said. “And I know I’m going to be seeing your beautiful self in person soon, but did everything go okay during your visit with the Colonel?”

Cooper paused. “He told me he’d be looking for a sign—something to encourage him to live a different life once he’s released.”

“That’s a bit beyond our power, isn’t it?”

“Not if we’re just the messengers,” Cooper replied with a smile. “You know that bowl of Scripture verses you can pick from as you’re leaving the church auditorium?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I think the one I picked was meant for Edward Crosby, not me.”

Nathan made a noise of assent. “It’ll be interesting to see if it gets through to him,” he said. “Speaking of people taking chances, guess what Jake has finally done?”

“Asked Savannah on a date?”

Nathan laughed. “Yep! I guess his feelings for her are as obvious as mine are for you.” Softly, he added, “See you soon, sweetheart.”

• • •

In a group jail cell, populated by thirty men in beige scrubs, there was little opportunity for privacy or quiet. One of the few times the men fell silent and minded their own business occurred after the arrival of the mail each day. When the letters were delivered to the eager inmates that Tuesday evening, Edward Crosby was surprised to hear his name called and have a folded slip of paper handed to him.

“Who’s this from?” he asked.

The guard shrugged. “No idea.”

Edward retreated to his cot. He smoothed the narrow strip of creased paper flat and then read the brief but powerful lines quietly to himself.

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ Jeremiah twenty-nine, verse eleven.”

“It’s not too late,” Edward murmured to himself. He then closed his eyes, leaned against his pillow and whispered to someone he had never addressed before. “I got your sign. Show me what to do next and I’ll do it.”

In his heart, he felt a sudden and powerful feeling of calm—a measure of peace that he had never experienced before.

“What you grinnin’ about, you fool? Eh, Colonel?” one of the other inmates taunted.

Edward Crosby stood and slapped the man affectionately on the back. “The future,” he said and snapped his fingers as he’d done earlier talking to Cooper. “Just like that, I got a reason to smile.”

Magnolia’s Marvels

Iced Lemon Cookies

Cookies:

1 cup butter

2 cups sugar

3 eggs, beaten

1 cup buttermilk

4 cups flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon pure vanilla

1 teaspoon lemon flavoring

Lemon Icing:

1½ cups confectioner’s sugar

2 tablespoons water

1 tablespoon lemon juice

Cream butter and sugar, add beaten eggs and then buttermilk. Stir in flour, baking powder, baking soda, vanilla, and flavoring. Refrigerate overnight. Drop by teaspoons onto greased sheets. Bake at 400 degrees until cookies are lightly brown (approx. 10 minutes). Frost with lemon icing.

Soft Ginger Molasses Cookies

¾ cup unsalted butter

1 cup dark brown sugar, packed

1 egg

¼ cup molasses

2¼ cups flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon ginger

½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon cloves

Granulated sugar for rolling

Cream butter and brown sugar. Add egg. Gently mix. Add remaining ingredients and mix well. Form dough into small balls and roll in granulated sugar. Bake at 375 degrees for 9 minutes. These cookies will be very soft to the touch, but don’t fret. They’ll harden to the perfect consistency when they cool.

Pumpkin Crisp Squares

Squares:

1 can (15 oz.) pumpkin

1 can evaporated milk

1 cup granulated sugar

3 eggs

1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

1 box yellow cake mix

1 cup chopped pecans

2 sticks butter, melted

Frosting:

1 package (8 oz.) cream cheese

1 stick of butter

3 cups confectioner’s sugar

Mix pumpkin, milk, sugar, eggs, and pumpkin pie spice together. Pour into 9x13-inch greased pan. Sprinkle dry cake mix over pumpkin mix. Pat nuts onto surface of mixture. Melt butter and pour over the top. Bake at 350 degrees for 50 to 60 minutes. Cool and frost.

To make frosting, combine cream cheese and butter and mix on low speed for 1 minute. Add sugar and mix until all the sugar is incorporated.

In case you missed it,

keep reading for an excerpt

from the first book in the

Hope Street Church Mystery series

by Ellery Adams,

The Path of the Crooked!

Cooper Lee was at a crossroads. Her boyfriend of five years had just left her for another woman, she was living in an apartment above her parents’ garage, and her job as a copier repairperson was feeling a little, well, repetitious. Hoping for a fresh start and a new outlook on life, she joins the Bible study group at Hope Street Church. The last thing she expects while studying the Bible is a lesson in murder.

When Brooke Hughes, the woman who first invited Cooper to Hope Street, is found murdered in her home, all signs point to her husband as the culprit. But Wesley Hughes was an elder at Hope Street Church, and the members of the Bible study are filled with disbelief that such a kind and loving man could take a life, much less his wife’s. Unwilling to let an innocent man and friend be railroaded into prison, the Bible group decides to investigate on their own.

As Cooper and this humorously diverse group of people—including a blind folk artist, a meteorologist with a taste for younger women, and a soft-spoken web designer who might be out to catch Cooper’s eye—dig deeper into the clues, they’re about to discover that finding the truth sometimes takes a leap of faith.

1

Cooper Lee was more comfortable with machines than people. She drove all over the city of Richmond, Virginia, to fix them. By the time she got to these copiers, laminators, or fax machines as they waited in their offices, hospitals, or schools, they were broken. Broken and quiet. Cooper would kneel beside them and meticulously lay out her tools, and as she did so the machines didn’t raise their brows in surprise or barely concealed amusement that a woman worked as an office-machine repairman. A thirty-two-year-old woman dressed in a man’s uniform shirt didn’t seem odd at all.

Most importantly, they never stared at her eyes.

Her left eye wasn’t worth a second look. It was a flat, almost colorless blue. No one would have dreamed of comparing it to sapphires or deep seas or cloudless summer skies. But the other eye, the eye Cooper had received through ocular transplant surgery after she’d been smashed in the face with a field hockey stick in junior high, was a shimmering green. It was exotic—invoking images of lush jungles flecked with firefly light or the green shallows of tropical waters.

That single moment at field hockey practice, when a girl on Cooper’s own team had accidentally swung her stick too high as she prepared to hit the ball with incredible force, made Cooper more self-conscious than other teenagers. Still, she wanted what most people want. She wished for one close friend, to be loved by someone she could grow old with, and for her life to have purpose. Cooper thought she had found all of those in her boyfriend, Drew. Until he dumped her.

Shaking off her gloomy thoughts, Cooper cut a piece of crumb cake for breakfast, wrapped it in a paper towel, filled her twenty-eight-ounce travel cup to the brim with milky, unsweetened coffee, and tossed a banana onto the passenger seat of her truck. She drove east on I-64, the sun blinding her most of the way. According to Bryant Shelton’s weather report, there wouldn’t be a cloud in the sky this April Friday. For once it appeared as though Bryant might be right, though it didn’t matter much to Cooper. She’d be inside offices most of the day, but could enjoy brief moments of sunshine while driving the work van from one destination to another.

At ten minutes to nine, Cooper pulled into the parking lot belonging to one of a dozen corporate buildings resembling silver LEGO blocks. The Make It Work! headquarters was on the fringe of an area called Innsbrook, where hundreds of different companies, replete with an abundance of office equipment, depended upon Cooper and her coworkers to keep them operating smoothly.

“’Mornin’, Coop!” Angela called out a chipper greeting as Cooper approached the reception desk. Angela’s smile, combined with a vase filled with plump yellow roses, created a warm welcome. Few people visited the office as most of Make It Work!’s transactions were conducted via telephone, but Angela bought a dozen roses every Monday, claiming that a good workweek always began with fresh flowers. Angela was in charge of appointments and billing. She was at her desk every morning before anyone else, wearing one of her vintage sweaters, a pencil skirt (both of which were always too tight), and a pair of sexy heels. Angela’s platinum hair, powdered face, and fire-engine-red nails and lipstick were supposed to call to mind an image of Marilyn Monroe, but Angela was older and plumper than the late actress had ever been. Still, Angela was the heart and soul of their small operation. Filled with pluck and boundless optimism, Angela could thaw even the frostiest of customers.

“You’ve got an emergency waitin’ for you, sugar.” Angela examined her reflection in a small compact that was never out of reach. “Some poor lady has gotten her weddin’ ring jammed in the insides of a copier.” She held out a pink memo pad and ripped off the top sheet with a flourish.

“At Capital City?” Cooper asked, reading the message. “I have to go over there anyway. They ordered half a dozen Hewlett-Packard 7410 multifunction printers and I have to bring them to Building F and hook them up.” She grinned at Angela. “A wedding ring, you say? I wonder how she got it stuck inside.”

Angela shrugged. “You know folks like to try to fix things themselves. You’ve fished stranger things out of those machines. ’Member the bologna sandwich last year?”

“Do I?” Cooper laughed. “That mayo was everywhere. And that obnoxious executive tried to blame it on his administrative assistant. What a jerk.”

“That’s why I like workin’ for Mr. Farmer. He’s just as kind as he can be.” Angela’s eyes, beneath their curtain of long fake lashes, twinkled as they always did when she mentioned the boss’s name.

Cooper buttoned up her gray Make It Work! uniform jacket and grabbed the keys to one of the company’s two vans. Ben, the other repairman, was already off on his rounds. He came in an hour earlier than Cooper and was out the door by 4:00 p.m. He was obsessed with developing his naturally thin frame into a walking mass of muscle, so he spent two hours at the gym before heading home to his wife—a woman no one from Make It Work! had ever laid eyes on. Ben never spoke of her either.

“Can you grab some Mexican from Casa Grande for lunch?” Angela asked as Cooper opened the front door, wiggling the van keys until they sounded like metal castanets.

“Sure. What would you like?”

“Chicken quesadillas for me, something for yourself, and a Pan Filo burrito for Mr. Farmer. He almost went with a salad, saying that he needed to be more like Ben and watch his weight, but I told him that a little stuffing makes a nicer pillow.” Angela giggled, placed a twenty-dollar bill on the desk, and pushed it toward Cooper. “Lord, he turned beet red when I said that!”

Cooper thought about her introverted boss being complimented by the effusive Angela. He was a man of few words and usually hid in his office, drooling over the latest issues of Technology Review, Popular Mechanics, and PC Magazine. Cooper couldn’t fathom why Angela found their short, balding, hermitlike employer so captivating. It was like having a crush on Danny DeVito.

“See you in a bit, Angela.” Cooper saluted the other woman with her coffee cup and headed out to the van.

A Mrs. Brooke Hughes of Capital City, one of the nation’s largest credit card companies, had placed the call regarding the lost wedding ring. Cooper could tell that Mrs. Hughes was either an administrative assistant or an investigative agent in the Fraud Protection Division by the fact that the copier in question was located on the third floor in Building C. The Fraud Protection Division took up most of that floor, with the exception of a large filing room Cooper had never had cause to enter.

The second the elevator doors opened on the third floor, Mrs. Hughes leapt forward and latched on to Cooper’s arm like a barnacle.

“Thank goodness you’re here!” she exclaimed. Looking down, she realized she held Cooper with a viselike grip and that the younger woman was politely struggling to reclaim her limb. “Oh, I’m sorry!” Exhaling loudly, she released Cooper and then raised her hands, which were coated with black toner. “I’ve really made a mess of things, I’m afraid.”

Cooper could see that the woman had also smeared toner on her ivory blouse and berry-colored skirt. Mrs. Hughes, though agitated, had an open face and kind eyes. “Don’t worry, ma’am,” Cooper assured the woman and then introduced herself. “We’ll get your ring back. Which machine is it stuck in?”

“Oh, please call me Brooke. The copier’s right outside my office.”

Although she wore a name tag, Cooper thought it only polite to speak her name aloud since her client had established a friendly rapport, despite her distress.

It turned out that Brooke Hughes was the head of the entire department. She had her own assistant and a full-sized six-thousand-dollar Sharp grayscale copier at her disposal. The chair at the assistant’s desk was empty and her workstation was covered with mounds of wadded tissues and untidy stacks of paper.

“Cindi, my assistant, called out sick today. Again.” Brooke’s eyebrows shot up and down suggestively. “I’ve been trying to wrap up this case I’ve been working on and I just needed to pull together a few more documents.” She gestured at Cindi’s desk. “I was attempting to make sense of that mess when I came across a document that was very, very incriminating . . . ” She trailed off, looking abashed. “I’m sorry to go on about all this to you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s just that it was crucial for me to make multiple copies of this, ah, report so I could quickly store it in more than one location as soon as possible.” Brooke nervously picked at her cuticles and continued speaking in a hushed tone. “I’m concerned that the original document could suddenly disappear.” Her voice returned to normal as she continued. “But then the copier jammed and I was so desperate to make copies that I tried to fix it. When I reached under that panel”—she pointed inside the machine and Cooper noticed that Brooke’s finger was trembling—“and tried to rip out the paper, my ring slipped off my finger and fell down in there.”

“Were you able to make any copies?” Cooper asked, concerned about the woman’s apparent anxiety.

Brooke shook her head and made a visible effort to pull herself together.

Wordlessly, Cooper rolled the copier away from the wall and scanned the carpet. She couldn’t see the ring anywhere, so she knew that meant she’d have to unscrew the machine’s back panel. After retrieving a flashlight from her toolbox, she gestured at the Sharp. “Has this copier been acting up lately?”

“Yes, I believe it has. Cindi’s cursed quite loudly at it a few times. I also think she’s given it a few solid kicks.” Brooke winced as though she hated snitching on her assistant. “I’m afraid she’s not very good at following directions. Mine or a machine’s. But she’s a single mom and I just don’t have the heart to let her go.” She laughed humorlessly. “I swear I do both our jobs most of the time.”

Unused to being watched as she worked, Cooper began loosening the screws that secured the back panel to the main body of the copier.

“Unlike poor Cindi,” Brooke rambled on, “I’ve been blessed. My husband is my best friend. We were high school sweethearts, raised a terrific son together, and are celebrating our thirty-year anniversary tonight. That’s why I’m so desperate to get my ring back today.”

Cooper glanced up at Brooke’s face. She was gazing out a window beyond Cindi’s desk, a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth. “Wesley, my husband, is picking me up after work today in a white limo. We’re going out to dinner at this little hole-in-the-wall where we had our first date. He doesn’t know that I know, but he also reserved the bridal suite at the Jefferson.” She shook her head dreamily. “We couldn’t afford anything like that when we got married, so I guess he’s trying to make it up to me, but I wouldn’t trade our first years of struggle for anything.” She grinned at Cooper. “Are you married?”

“No, ma’am,” Cooper said without taking her eyes from her work. “My boyfriend of over five years left me six months ago. Really suddenly,” she added and then instantly clammed up. People didn’t usually speak to her once they had directed her to the machine in need of repair, so she was surprised to find herself sharing such an intimate exchange.

“I’m really sorry.” Brooke spoke with heartfelt sincerity. “Five years is a long time. Many marriages don’t survive that long, so you two must have been doing something right.”

“I thought so.” Cooper sighed. “And I’d do anything to have my life with him back. For those five years, he was my only friend, my whole world. I’m living with my parents again and just trying to figure out how to start again.”

Brooke put a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “You’re young and pretty and I can tell you must be awfully smart to be able to do what you do. Once time heals your wounds a bit, you’re going to find that men will line up around the block just to ask you out.”

“You think so?” Cooper looked over her shoulder and grinned ruefully. “Where’s the front of that line?”

Brooke smiled. “If you can laugh about your pain, you’re on the road to getting the best of it. And I know a place that might help you in the whole recovery process. Hold on a sec.” She pulled open a desk drawer, retrieved a marigold-colored brochure, and handed it to Cooper.

“This is the church I belong to. I would love for you to attend a service with me. Come as my friend. Any Sunday you’d like. Just walk on in and find me and we’ll sit together.”

Cooper stared at the yellow brochure. It was from Hope Street Church and simply had the church name, address, and the words Welcome, Friends on the cover. Brooke’s invitation was filled with warmth and hospitality, but the idea of attending an unfamiliar church wasn’t something Cooper felt comfortable doing. “I’ll think about it. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Please do. And no more of this ma’am stuff. We’re just two women trying to make our way in the world. Brooke and Cooper.” She pointed at the brochure. “Take a look at that when you get a chance and feel free to call me if you have any questions. Now”—Brooke tugged on the bottom of her stained blouse—“I will stop blithering away like a chatty magpie and let you work your magic. I’ll be in my office, so please let me know if you need an extra pair of hands—to hold the flashlight or something.”

“Thanks, but I’m like an octopus when I’m working.” Cooper smiled and watched the other woman walk away. She then folded the Hope Street brochure in half, tucked it in her pocket, and returned her focus to removing the bottom paper drawer so that she could get a better view of the copier’s underbelly. After she detached the tray, she directed the powerful beam of her Maglite into the cavity and swept the light around the base. A twinkle in one of the far corners signaled the presence of Brooke’s ring.

Plucking the ring from the dark, Cooper cleaned it off using a fresh rag from her toolbox. A dozen tiny diamonds embedded in a band of yellow gold glistened as Cooper wiped away spots of toner and dust. As she rubbed the inside of the ring, she noticed an inscription. It read Forever, I Corinthians 13:13.

Cooper knew that I Corinthians 13:13 was often used in wedding ceremonies. Sitting on the floor of the quiet office, she called to mind the cover of her younger sister, Ashley’s, wedding program. It showed the bride and groom as children inside a heart-shaped cutout. Above the photograph were two doves flying toward each other and the words And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Folding the ring carefully inside another clean rag, Cooper set the precious package next to her toolbox and began the process of removing the jammed sheets of paper. She made a pile of torn strips of paper along with an anthill of bits and scraps that had likely collected inside the copier over the last few weeks. It only took her a few minutes to restore the machine to working order. She checked under the lid to see if Brooke’s original document was still laid out on the glass. It was, so Cooper programmed the machine to make five duplicates in order to test the copier. It ran them through without a hitch.

Cooper didn’t even glance at the pages that were so critical to Brooke Hughes. She’d never examined the contents of a single document in her four years as a repairwoman and didn’t plan to start now. Clearing her throat, she stood in the threshold of Brooke’s office and unfolded the rag containing the wedding ring.

“Here’s your ring, ma’am—um, Brooke. No harm done.”

Brooke plucked the ring from the rag, pushed it on her finger, and threw her arms around Cooper. “You’re an angel! I can’t tell you how much this means to me!”

Though surprised by the woman’s quickness, Cooper still managed to press the documents against her thigh so they wouldn’t get crushed by Brooke’s embrace.

“Your copier’s back in order too,” Cooper continued once Brooke had released her. “I made five copies just to test the machine, but you’re good to go if you’d like to run some more.”

Brooke accepted the papers. The joy that had shone from her eyes upon seeing her wedding ring was instantaneously replaced by a mixture of worry and fear. “Thank you,” she said softly.

The phone on her desk began to ring, and Brooke glanced in its direction. Once again, she began to pick nervously at her fingernails.

“I’d better get that.” Her tone was regretful.

Cooper was accustomed to abrupt dismissals by busy and important people, or at least people who viewed themselves as busy and important, so Brooke’s desire to linger was unusual.

“Have a nice day, ma’am,” Cooper said politely. She wished she could think of something more comforting to add but nothing came to mind.

Brooke gave Cooper a bright smile infused with warmth and then wiggled her ring finger. “I hope that one day a good man gives you a ring and a promise and makes you very, very happy. Maybe I’ll see you at church some Sunday. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

It took a moment for Cooper to move, as a vision of Drew bending down on one knee and offering her a velvet jewelry box had her so captivated that she almost forgot where she was. Finally, she blinked and Drew’s handsome face and pleading eyes evaporated.

“Most folks don’t talk to me when I’m working,” Cooper found herself telling Brooke. “I kind of walk around as if I’m invisible. So it was really nice to have met you today. Thanks.”

“No one’s invisible,” Brooke replied firmly and smiled again. She then picked up her phone and her smile disappeared in a flash.

Sensing that Brooke needed privacy, Cooper returned to the copier and packed up her tools. Because the only trash receptacle in sight was the overflowing Rubbermaid can under Cindi’s desk, Cooper gathered the paper scraps she’d removed from inside the copier, folded them up in her rag, and headed out to the van. As she walked, she considered how her regular interactions with office workers were brief and impersonal. In general, she preferred it that way. Yet for the first time, she had met someone who had spoken to her openly, as an equal, and it had felt really good. And though part of Cooper felt touched by Brooke Hughes’s attention, the other part of her wished that she could have remained anonymous. That way, she could drive off into the sunshine without fretting over the welfare of someone she barely knew.

After making her way to another area of Capital City’s mammoth campus to deliver the Hewlett-Packard 7410s, Cooper parked the van near the delivery entrance of Building F and turned off the engine. She felt like enjoying a cigarette beneath one of the lot’s large dogwood trees but then remembered that she had smoked her last one that morning.

Cooper got out of the van and leaned against the tree trunk. She propped her leg against the smooth bark, enjoying the sun on her face as she opened a Ziploc bag containing two of her mother’s homemade cookies. She felt an inexplicable urge to say a quick prayer before returning to work. She hadn’t prayed for someone else for a long, long time. In fact, she couldn’t remember praying much at all until Drew had left her, but now she said a nightly prayer asking that she be reunited with him soon.

Maybe I should focus on somebody else for once, she thought, closing her eyes.

“Lord,” she began hesitantly and then felt words flow more easily from her mouth. “I hope that Brooke’s husband is all that she says he is. I hope he rides up in his white limo and sweeps that nice woman away in a tide of happiness so powerful that whatever is troubling her will be completely washed away. Amen.”

Not bad, Cooper thought and felt the tension she’d felt in Brooke’s office ebb away. Chewing on one of her mother’s chocolate pinwheel cookies, she got back to work.

2

“I can’t believe my only sister works as a copier repairman!” Ashley complained to their mother, Magnolia “Maggie” Lee, as Maggie finished up her daily baking that Sunday afternoon. “Do you know how weird I feel telling people what my sister does for a living?”

“Why?” Maggie momentarily paused in rolling out a ball of cookie dough for her Chinese almond cookies and gave her younger child a perplexed look. “What’s wrong with Cooper’s job with Make It Work!? Your sister is very talented with her hands. She can fix most anything, just like her daddy.”

Ashley tossed a thick lock of glossy, radiant blonde hair over her shoulder. “It would be one thing if she just did administrative stuff, but she actually gets greasy and wears a uniform with an embroidered name tag! What’s next? Coveralls? Steel-tipped boots?”

Mrs. Lee shrugged. “Someone has to keep those complicated machines workin’ smoothly. Folks seem to really depend on them these days. And someone has to be firm enough to tell those stingy business owners when their machines have reached the end of their road and need to be replaced.” She teared up. “Oh, now you’ve got me thinkin’ about what I’m gonna do when Grammy is called by the angels!”

Ashley rolled a pair of captivating cerulean eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with Grammy, Mama. Don’t get all worked up. Besides, I don’t think the angels are going to be able to handle her. She’s going to be with us forever.”

Maggie brightened. “You’re right, dear. Grammy’s plucky as a hen in springtime. Now”—she wiped her hands on the seat of her pants instead of her apron—“I have to get these cookies ready for the folks at the Alzheimer’s home.” She glanced at her watch. “I want them to have a special treat with their Sunday afternoon tea.”

“Why?” Ashley’s perfect lips screwed into a smirk. “They won’t remember eating them.”

“Ashley Elizabeth!” Mrs. Lee shook her rolling pin at her daughter. “Don’t you say ugly things like that in my kitchen!”

“Sorry, Mama.” Ashley shot a look at her sister, but Cooper wasn’t paying attention. She had a mug of hot coffee in her right hand and was lost in the pages of the Sunday paper.

“Back to Cooper,” Ashley persisted. “How is she ever going to meet a new man when her job is so macho?” She put her manicured hands on her narrow hips. “It’s been six months since he left, ya know. It’s time for her to start living again. She’s pretty in that all-natural kind of way and has a body most girls would kill for, but she just hides out, living in her garage like a nun. Someone will have to drag her out of there or she’s going to turn into an old maid.”

“Help me bag up these pinwheels while you’re carryin’ on, Ashley.”

Ashley obediently stuffed two cookies each into plastic bags decorated with gold stickers reading Magnolia’s Marvels. As she tied them using gold ribbon, she occasionally glanced over at Cooper, who was still engrossed in the Richmond Times-Dispatch and had refused to respond to any of her sister’s comments. Ashley, who was unaccustomed to being ignored, suddenly claimed the edge of Cooper’s chair.

“I’ve got it!” she exclaimed as Cooper turned a mismatched but fiery gaze upon her sister. “Coop? You should start coming to church with me! There are tons of nice single men at church. And they’re your age too.” Watching her sister warily, Cooper reached out and folded the newspaper so that when her father got home from his weekly shopping trip to Wal-Mart, his paper would look pristine. She pushed back from the worn and scrubbed farm table in her parents’ kitchen, refilled her coffee cup, and helped herself to a cookie.

“Not gonna happen, Ashley,” Cooper said firmly. “Besides, I have plans of my own.” She hadn’t told anyone that she was thinking about attending Brooke’s church the following Sunday. Wanting to reread the flyer on Hope Street alone, Cooper walked out the back door, down a short path, and entered the small greenhouse her father had built for her after the field hockey accident.

She inhaled the scents of her private refuge—a wheelbarrow filled with rich soil, two aisles packed with seed trays bearing the first hints of green, a stack of terra-cotta planters, her bottles of pungent fertilizers, and a tidy pile of gardening books on edible plants that Cooper had picked up from library and yard sales.

“This place is as peaceful as any church,” she said to the air, delighting in the humidity and the dappled spring sunlight glinting off the glass roof. Moving about the cozy space, she touched the plants flanking the center aisle and brushed specks of dirt from the leaves of a seedling. “Grow well, my friend. You’re going to help fill hungry bellies come summertime.”

Cooper spent the next few minutes flipping through a seed catalogue. She soon became so intent on deciding which tomato seeds to order that she didn’t hear Ashley enter her sanctuary.

“I’m trying to look out for you, Coop,” her sister said as Cooper straightened a group of seed trays on the potting table. Ashley held out her hand and wiggled the mammoth diamond of her engagement ring. The light caught the stone and shimmered along the row of smaller diamonds on her wedding band. “I’d like you to find someone as wonderful as my Lincoln.” She sighed happily. “I know I’m just a bubbly newlywed talking, but the day I became Mrs. Lincoln Love was the happiest of my life. I know you thought you and Drew were going to be like Lincoln and me, but it wasn’t meant to be.” Her long lashes fluttered as she surveyed her sister. “You’re pretty, Cooper. You could catch a man and be happy again. I could help you.”

Cooper crossed her arms and frowned. She felt no jealousy over her sister’s ostentatious jewelry or the endless mentions of her extremely wealthy husband, but she didn’t like what she saw in Ashley’s eyes.

“I don’t want to become one of your charity projects,” Cooper snapped. After all, Cooper viewed Ashley’s charitable works as her sister’s vain desire to appear in Richmond magazine and Virginia Living as often as possible, dressed in fabulous designer clothes, her arm draped around the mayor, the governor’s wife, or another rich suburban do-gooder.

The trouble was, Ashley always distanced herself from the actual people she was purportedly bent on helping. She would organize teams of builders, electricians, and plumbers to work for days constructing a house for Habitat for Humanity, but she never visited the site or met the family. She would collect thousands of winter coats and Christmas presents for the children of area orphanages, but she’d never meet any of the kids during the delivery of these gifts. Even her hospital volunteerism was conducted from a distance. Ashley would host a dinner and raise funds for needed supplies or medical equipment, but she preferred not to be introduced to one of the patients who had benefited from the monetary donation.

Everything Ashley did was self-serving to some degree, and Cooper didn’t want to be a part of any of her sister’s schemes. Suddenly, Cooper recalled Brooke’s kindness and felt guilty over thinking such nasty thoughts about her sister.

“Look,” Cooper told Ashley more gently and busied her hands tidying her pillar of catalogues. “I appreciate your wanting to help, I do, but I don’t want to go to church to meet men. Isn’t that what bars are for?” she quipped.

Ashley frowned. “Well, then go to church to pray. It doesn’t look good that you’re the only one of us that doesn’t attend worship service.”

“Doesn’t look good to who?” Cooper demanded, getting annoyed again. She knew that Ashley wanted to chair some new committee at the large and powerful church she attended on River Road, a wealthy corridor composed of million-dollar homes and churches the size of college campuses. She was also aware of the fact that Ashley was embarrassed of her family.

Their father, Earl Lee, was in charge of maintenance at one of the area’s private schools and their mother got up at five a.m. to bake cookies, which she sold to several Richmond sandwich shops. Except for Ashley, who resided with her husband in a mansion just off River Road, the Lees lived out in the country, a good twenty minutes from Richmond’s West End subdivisions and endless strip malls. Cooper’s parents were humble people who spent their money modestly but gave generously of their time. Their house was small, outdated, and yet incredibly cozy. Cooper lived in a minuscule studio apartment Mr. Lee had erected over the garage with the idea of moving his mother out of the main house, but Grammy Lee refused to budge.

Cooper shook her head, wondering for the millionth time how her parents could have produced such different children. She could only reason that during the one year, one month, one week, and one day that separated their birthdays, the world must have spun in the opposite direction. Looking at her sister as she turned the pages of a gardening magazine with disinterest, Cooper tried to keep her irritation in check. “No one outside of this house cares what I do, Ashley. Why don’t you tell those snobby ladies at your church that your entire family was lost at sea or mauled by bears? Then you won’t have to obsess over how we make you look.”

For a moment, Ashley turned Cooper’s suggestion over in her mind. Suddenly, she scowled. “I can’t say that! It would be an outright lie and that’s not going to get me elected.”

Cooper began filling out the order form in the back of the seed catalogue. “Works for politicians all the time,” she joked.

“Fine, Cooper. Rot away in this greenhouse. Live with your parents until you’re old and gray. Go ahead.” Ashley turned to leave. “But you should go to church, even if it’s to suffer through that awful choir at Mama and Daddy’s church.”

“Why?” Cooper paused in her writing to drink some coffee.

“Because it’s where people go to better themselves. A place where those who’ve been hurt can find healing and where lonely people can make friends.” Cooper was surprised to see genuine concern on Ashley’s face. “After all, without me living here anymore, you must not have anyone to talk to. You and Drew spent all your time with each other.”

Cooper had never considered her sister to be a close friend, but she nodded anyway. “I told you, I have plans in the works, okay? Now, just drop the subject. Don’t you have a husband waiting for you at home?”

“I certainly do,” Ashley said with a satisfied nod. She then whipped her lightweight suede coat closed, cinched a crocodile belt around her shapely waist, and strutted away, her hair bouncing in a shiny wave of honey as she walked. Cooper studied her own athletic body and long, straight blonde hair in the greenhouse glass and, satisfied with what she saw, finished completing the order form.

Later that evening, she headed out to the mailbox with a lit cigarette and her order form. She lingered for a moment at the end of the driveway, watching the sun sink into the spindly arms of the trees and listening to the excited chatter of bats as they fluttered above her head. Cooper blew a stream of smoke into the spring air, still tinged with some of winter’s lingering coolness, and wondered if she was truly ready to put the pain of her broken heart behind her and begin living her life again.

She picked a piece of tobacco from the tip of her tongue and flicked it onto the ground. Her eyes became fixated on the glowing end of her cigarette. Bending down, she crushed it out in the gravel and spent several moments crouched there, observing the spent stub. “I really wish I could kick this damn habit.”

Searching in her pocket for a tissue in which to wrap the cigarette butt, Cooper’s fingers closed around the Hope Street brochure. She gazed at the words of welcome printed on the front cover for several moments.

“Should I go?” she whispered to the first evening star. “Could you send me a sign?” When the only response she received was a tickle on the cheek by a momentary breeze, she slowly walked back toward the house.

• • •

The workweek flew by and Cooper nearly forgot about both Brooke Hughes and Hope Street. She and her mother spent most of Saturday preparing the vegetable and herb beds behind the house for planting. Together they weeded, tilled, and mixed compost with the soil, which was still damp from the previous evening’s rain.

Earl Lee also spent the mild spring day outside. He mowed the lawn, replaced rotted posts on the split-rail fence, and tinkered around in the garage, undoubtedly trying to coax his ’71 Chevy Malibu back to life.

When the family reconvened for dinner, Earl spoke a quick blessing before they ate. He’d barely finished before Grammy Lee launched into a tirade over being served soft tacos with refried beans.

“What’s this mush?” she demanded of no one in particular. “I still got my teeth, ya know.” She plucked her dentures from her mouth and waved them around for everyone to see. “How about a nice piece of meat—one you gotta cut with a knife, not slurp up like pig slop?”

“We had rib eyes earlier this week, Grammy,” Maggie said calmly. “You know we can’t have steak all the time. They’re too expensive.”

“At least tomorrow’s Sunday,” Grammy mumbled, glaring at her plate with her cataract-clouded eyes. “That means ham or bacon.” She took a bite of beans and grimaced. “You at least gonna make some cinnamon rolls?” she asked Maggie.

“From scratch,” Maggie replied cheerfully, passing her husband a bowl of shredded cheese. Cooper was amazed by how her mother was able to listen to Grammy’s cantankerous remarks without ever getting ruffled.

“So I see you’re goin’ to church tomorrow, girlie.” Grammy pointed her fork at Cooper. “What brought this on? You got a cravin’ to listen to those tone-deaf songbirds with us, Granddaughter? I don’t think there’s a single member under fifty. You’d best go where the young folks are.” She cackled and then went on to remind them that she had been married for twenty years, a mother for fifteen years, and the owner of her own farm stand for ten years by the time she turned thirty-five.

“How’d you know I was planning to go to church tomorrow?” Cooper asked in surprise. “I only made up my mind a little while ago while I was working in the garden.”

“How did I know?” Grammy guffawed, spraying the table in front of her with bits of refried beans. “Because my room is right next to the washin’ machine. You left the iron out to cool down and you haven’t ironed anythin’ since you graduated from high school.” She took a sip of iced tea and choked down the rest of the beans. “I figured you were either goin’ to church or on a date.” She gave Cooper an assessing glance and made it clear that she didn’t approve of what she saw. “I’m bettin’ on church.”

• • •

Cooper opened the yellow Hope Street brochure and read it over for the tenth time.

“I wonder if Brooke’s here today,” Cooper said to her image in the rearview mirror and then retrieved her pack of Camel Lights from her faux-leather purse. She lit a cigarette and hung her arm out the window of her red Jeep Cherokee.

Her reflection blew a veil of smoke from between her thin lips. “I know,” Cooper said to the mirror. “You don’t look very sexy doing that.” She scowled at the burning cigarette. “I’m going to give these things up. Time for a fresh start, right?” After staring at the weathered brick building for a minute, she straightened the collar of her freshly ironed blouse and said, “Let’s go.”

Cooper got out of the truck, put out her cigarette using the bottom of her shoe, and walked to one of the church’s side entrances. She paused at the trash can positioned several feet from the double doors.

“Okay, I can do this.” She threw the nearly full pack of Camels and a plastic Bic lighter inside. The two items hit the bottom with a satisfying thunk. “I never smoked until I met Drew, so if I’m going to start over”—she dug around in her purse until she found a package of gum—“then I’m going to do it with a little help from Wrigley’s.”

Hope Street Church was unlike any church Cooper had ever experienced. She was accustomed to the small, white clapboard structures of country churches, the pealing of bells at every hour, and rows of lovely stained-glass windows to stare at should the sermon become a tad dull. Hope Street was an impressive brick building whose cornerstone had been placed over one hundred years ago. The original chapel had been expanded after World War I and a roomy wing had been built in the early eighties for the Hope Street Christian Academy.

Daydreaming students on the north side of the building were treated to a view of the church’s lush garden, while those on the south side were stuck gazing out at the vast parking lot. When the bells called people to worship, the sound was like that of a symphony. The powerful melody carried far across the rooftops and made its way into area subdivisions.

“This is some church,” Cooper muttered to herself and looked around the deserted hallway. She noticed a bulletin board for Students Against Drunk Driving and a sign-up sheet for prom queen nominations. “I am so glad to be out of high school. I don’t think I could survive it a second time around.” Cooper tapped the bulletin board and listened to the sound echo around her. Where was everyone? She glanced at her watch. It was almost nine. Didn’t the service start at nine? Which hallway would take her to the chapel?

Aware of the noisy clip-clop of her only pair of heels, which had lain dormant in the far reaches of her closet since the office Christmas party, Cooper made an attempt to walk on the balls of her feet. Tiptoeing, she glanced down every hall she passed but didn’t see another human being until she ran smack into a long torso clad in a blue-and-yellow-checked button-down.

“Sorry!” said a baritone voice coming from over her head. After collecting herself, Cooper glanced up into the face of the very tall man she’d collided with. She saw a pair of warm brown eyes and a slightly bashful smile. It was a pleasant face all around, though rather high in the forehead and sharp in the chin.

“Are you new to Hope Street?” the man asked softly.

Cooper nodded. “Yes, and I’m totally lost.” She laughed nervously. “This wing is like a rabbit warren, only I think their burrows smell less like Lysol.”

The man’s grin widened. “Come on, I’ll show you where to go. I’m Nathan Dexter, by the way.”

Pleased that she had an escort to the service, Cooper smiled in relief. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cooper.”

“That’s an unusual name for a woman.” Nathan shook Cooper’s hand. “Must have been a barrel maker somewhere in your family history,” he said as though the idea was fascinating. “I really like familial names. I think it’s a great way to honor an ancestor, you know? A way of uniting people from different generations.” He cleared his throat, seemingly embarrassed. “That’s my backward way of saying I think your name is cool.”

“Thanks.” No one had ever complimented Cooper on her name before. “It was my great-grandfather’s. And you’re right, he was named after his aunt—her last name was Cooper—and her father was a barrel maker. She didn’t make barrels, but she filled her fair share with whiskey and dill pickles.”

“Two of my favorites.” Nathan grinned. “And don’t be too impressed with my attempt at intelligence. I’m just a computer geek who likes crossword puzzles, so my nose is often stuck in a dictionary.” He gestured with one of his long arms. “We’re in here, to your left.”

Cooper hesitated for a moment, as the doorway appeared to lead into a classroom, not a chapel. She could hear the murmur of several voices, but not the rumble of dozens and dozens of parishioners getting settled for service. What was going on? With Nathan right on her heels and closing fast, she had no other choice but to enter.

All chatting ceased as soon as Cooper stepped through the threshold. Four people were seated in a circle, their hands folded on top of student desks. Each person had a copy of the Bible opened in front of them, along with a few sheets of paper covered with notes, and a pen. Their postures were relaxed and they all smiled at her in welcome.

“Who’s there?” asked a woman seated closest to the door. She had black hair, dark blue eyes, and unusually pale skin. She also seemed to be trying to figure out who had entered the room.

“It’s Nathan, Savannah,” Nathan called from the doorway. “And this is Cooper.” Nathan gave Cooper a gentle push, indicating she should move closer to the woman. “This is Savannah,” he said. “She’s the leader of our little group.” The woman held out a hand speckled with colorful stains, like a child who’d used permanent markers and was only able to wash away the surface layer of pigment. The woman’s fingers closed around Cooper’s and she used her free hand to probe the skin of Cooper’s palm. “Aha! Another woman who works with her hands! How wonderful.”

As Cooper glanced around, wondering how to make a polite escape in order to locate the actual worship service, she noticed a white cane beneath Savannah’s desk.

“In case you haven’t guessed, I’m legally blind,” Savannah said as if she knew exactly what Cooper had spotted. “But I can still see shapes and, thank the Lord, colors. I ‘see’ people by recognizing their body shape and smell.” She gave a series of sniffs like a bloodhound catching a fresh fox scent. “You’re Dove soap, aloe lotion, guava-scented shampoo, and . . . She inhaled deeply and Cooper took a step backward. “Well, I’ll be. I believe you might work on machines. Am I totally off the mark?”

“I repair office machines,” Cooper said in surprise, staring at the woman. “How did you know?” She pretended to check her armpits. “Am I giving off a whiff of toner? Maybe some grease? I use baby powder Secret every morning, I swear.”

Savannah laughed.

“Okay, okay,” a man who looked like he was in need of a haircut and shave quickly interjected. “Let the lovely lady get situated before we pry her open like a mussel and check out her innards.” He held out his hand for Cooper to shake. “I’m Jake. Master plumber and electrician, detective novel addict, and Little League baseball coach. I’m here because one of my buddies started reading Scripture during our lunch breaks and I felt called to learn more. Come sit by me and I’ll get you some coffee.”

Cooper gave him a grateful nod but didn’t settle into the empty desk he pulled over. “Actually, I think I’m in the wrong place,” she said and smiled politely.

“We’re the Sunrise Bible Study Group,” a woman wearing gobs of makeup beneath a helmet of copper hair explained. “I’m Trish Tyler. My husband is one of Hope’s elders,” she said importantly. “And I’m sure you know my name because you’re bound to have seen my billboards. My assistants joke that I’m trying to get as many as South of the Border!” She leapt up and placed a business card on Cooper’s desk. “No cacti or sombreros, though. Anyway, welcome to Hope Street.”

Cooper had heard of Trish Tyler. Her picture was plastered on billboards, moving vans, and on the hundreds of Tyler Realty FOR SALE signs across the city. Trish was seated next to another well-known Richmonder. Bryant Shelton was the meteorologist for Channel 6 news. He was notorious for being incredibly vague in his forecasts, for his string of marriages to women much younger than himself, and for raising funds for poverty-stricken senior citizens.

Bryant offered Cooper his best TV smile, nearly blinding her with the stark whiteness of his porcelain veneers, and said, “I’m new as well. Just joined a few weeks ago.” He pointed at Trish. “She gave me a business card within the first ten seconds of my arrival too. Personally,” he said, raising his voice as he winked playfully at Trish, “I think she puts them in the offering plate.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Bryant.” Trish pretended to count her business cards. “Do you think I have enough?”

Bryant gave Cooper a flirtatious smile. “I like the young and hip feel of this church. It might look old school, but this church is hi-tech.” The light in his eyes dimmed slightly. “Ever since my wife left, Sunday mornings were getting kind of lonely, so I came here to meet some new friends. The band is really good too. I never knew that church could be so much like a party. We really rock out during the service.”

“That sounds cool,” Cooper replied, trying to visualize the combination of a church service and an Aerosmith concert.

“We haven’t started our morning’s lesson yet, so don’t worry about catching up,” Trish said to ease Cooper’s mind. “We’re waiting for another member to arrive.”

“That would be Quinton,” Jake added. “Big-time banker dude and the best cake baker you ever met. He’s probably late because he’s frosting the tenth layer of some awesome chocolate fudge cake.” He grinned smugly. “That’s why our study’s better than everybody else’s. We have the best food.”

“Well, that’s all of us.” Savannah nodded. “Let’s begin so we’re not late for worship. I hope Quinton will join us shortly.” She turned toward Cooper. “It’s a good day for you to jump in, since the theme we’re discussing is ‘beginnings.’ Next week we’re going to start a study on Paul’s letters called ‘Dear Church: Paul’s Letter in the Book of Ephesians.’”

Trish held out her workbook. “Cooper, you can just run over to the Christian bookstore and buy one of these there. Then you’ll be ready to join our little group.”

Cooper was slightly baffled by what Savannah and Trish had said. She knew that Ephesians was one of the books in the Bible, but she’d never read it before, and though she’d driven by the LifeWay store, she’d never gone inside. She was more of a Barnes and Noble shopper. “Sorry, but you’ve lost me. I don’t even have a Bible.” Feeling that was the wrong thing to say, Cooper quickly amended her statement. “I have one at home, but I’m pretty sure it’s a kid’s Bible. It’s full of colored illustrations and I think my name’s written on the first page in purple crayon.”

“My favorite color.” Savannah patted the empty desk beside her. “Have a seat, honey. You can share mine. Shoot, I can’t see it anyway!” She laughed and then waited patiently until Cooper sat down.

Savannah pushed a small Bible with a worn red leather cover toward Cooper’s side of her desk and said, “I’ve had this since I was a teenager, so it’s like an old friend. I take it everywhere and it’s never led me astray. It’s my own version of a Seeing Eye dog.”

“Hey, why don’t you have one of those dogs anyhow?” Jake puzzled in his gravelly voice.

“I told you before. I don’t want my blindness to define me.” Savannah held out her multihued hands. “And I don’t want people to buy my paintings because I have a disability. I want the paintings to speak to them.”

“Anyway,” Trish interjected gently, “we’re going to kick off the study by sharing a significant ‘beginning’ in our own lives. I was going to share the ups and downs of starting my own business.”

“I wish you’d tell me the secret,” Jake muttered as he handed Cooper a mug of black coffee and a small pitcher of cream. “I’m tired of working for The Man.”

Smoothing her copper-hued bangs, which looked like they’d been sprayed with polyurethane and wouldn’t move during a Category Five hurricane, Trish turned an intense pair of violet eyes (which Cooper assumed had to be contacts) on Jake. “Is that your new beginning? To launch your own plumbing company?”

Jake shook his head. “Nah. I’m not ready to make that move just yet. Besides, my boss has always played straight with me and I like the other guys in my crew. Actually, my most recent beginning is this.” He pushed up the sleeve of his long-sleeve crewneck with a flourish. Cooper noticed an enormous tattoo of a Celtic cross on his bulging bicep. An inch above the top of the cross was a square of flesh-colored material resembling a Band-Aid.

Savannah leaned closer to Cooper. “What is he showing us?”

“I’m wearing a patch,” Jake declared proudly. “I’m going to quit smoking. This patch is supposed to help me keep from wanting to drive over to the nearest Wawa and buy a pack.” His gaze remained fixed on Savannah’s face as he awaited her reply.

“Good for you, Jake!” She clapped her hands together. “How many years have you smoked?”

Jake unrolled his sleeve. “Started sneaking the ole cancer sticks in junior high. All my friends did. It made us feel like men.” He shrugged. “But now I know I don’t need them to feel like a man and I’m damned tired of how they’ve got such a powerful hold over me.”

“It’ll be a struggle,” Savannah said seriously. “But I have faith in you, Jake, and we’ll encourage you in any way that we can.”

Buoyed by her warm response, Jake’s face broke into a smile and he seemed to grow an inch taller in his chair. Cooper noticed for the first time that he was a fairly attractive man behind his stubble and slightly unkempt hair.

“Hey, you have a partner in withdrawal,” she whispered to him. “I just threw a full pack of Camel Lights into the garbage can outside the back door.”

Jake gave her a high five and offered her a piece of nicotine gum, but she brandished the package of Wrigley’s within her purse and, after exchanging collaborative grins, the pair turned their attention to Bryant.

“My best beginning was the day of my wedding,” the meteorologist stated, pushing a wave of blonde hair off his forehead. Cooper thought that Bryant looked like he should be on a beach in California instead of in a church in Richmond.

“I’m not trying to sound crass, but which wedding?” Savannah inquired.

Everyone giggled and Cooper took the opportunity to peek over at Nathan. He was refreshingly quiet. He simply listened to the others and sat in his chair with an aura of calm attentiveness that Cooper found appealing. She noticed that he tucked his feet under his chair as far as they would go and wondered if he was self-conscious about either his height or his incredibly large shoes.

“The first one,” Bryant said without ire. He was undoubtedly used to answering questions from the local media about his marriages and divorces. Cooper realized that he was probably closest to her in age. Everyone else seemed to be in his or her late thirties.

How many marriages could the guy have had and barely look a day over thirty? she wondered.

“The wedding most people don’t know about because the marriage was annulled the next day,” Bryant continued.

“Sounds like Britney Spears.” Trish looked at the others. “Wasn’t her first marriage a Vegas hoax?” No one replied, and the subject of Britney’s marital past was quickly passed over.

“I loved my first wife more than I’ve ever loved any woman,” Bryant declared with feeling. “But she was pregnant when we married and, as it turned out, I wasn’t the father. She left me for him the day after our wedding.”

“That’s awful!” Trish cried, while the rest of the members nodded in sympathy.

Savannah turned her face toward Nathan. “What’s your most recent beginning?”

“Um.” He tucked his feet a few inches farther under the chair. “This is a bit embarrassing, but I just joined an online dating service.”

Trish licked her shellacked lips and leaned forward eagerly in her seat. “Which one?”

Nathan ran his fingers through his hair and mumbled, “RichmondMatchmaker.com.” He looked at Cooper. “I design and develop websites, so I spend most of my time in front of my computer. Figured I may as well date on the computer too.” He clasped his long fingers together and raised his eyebrows. “Your turn, new girl.”

Cooper traced the rim of her coffee cup. “I met a woman who’s a member here. She invited me to come and it felt like something I wanted to try.”

Jake raised his brows. “You looking for a church to join?”

“To tell the truth, I’m not sure what I’m looking for,” Cooper said. And when the Sunrise members continued to gaze at her expectantly, she reluctantly added, “The man I expected to marry broke up with me. I’m trying to get over him—to move on. I thought coming here would help.”

“What happened?” Nathan asked sympathetically.

Encouraged by his tone, Cooper pushed the words out rapid-fire. “My ex-boyfriend is a home inspector. He liked to drink beer, and toward the end of our relationship he was drinking way too much. He started showing up to work late or sometimes not at all. One day he went to a home inspection totally drunk and it didn’t work out so well.”

Trish made a disapproving tsk-tsk noise. “Not good.”

. “Exactly,” Cooper agreed. “Drew threw up all over the client’s antique Oriental rug. He and the client, a guy named Trent, called each other some ugly names, punches were thrown, and finally a neighbor called the cops. Both men spent the night in jail, and when it was time for their bail to be posted . . . ah, now I’m at the hard part . . .”

“You’re doing great,” Jake coaxed. “Go on. Get it out.”

Cooper rubbed the smooth surface of the desktop. “This gorgeous redhead named Anna Lynne White came to bail out her brother, Trent.” Cooper fought to keep her voice even. “She also paid for Drew’s bail and announced to both guys that the price for her having sprung them was that they would both have to go to church with her straightaway. That was her deal. Trent did as his sister asked but the big surprise was that Drew did too. Apparently, Drew fell in love with Anna Lynne White the second he laid eyes on her. That spelled the end of our relationship.”

The room was silent for a moment.

“Thank you for sharing with us,” Savannah said and some of the other group members echoed their gratitude. “We welcome you to our group with open hearts and open hands. If you’re ready for a new beginning, then we’ll do our best to support you as you step onto this unfamiliar road. Friends”—Savannah held out her hands—“let’s pray for our friend Cooper.”

Cooper watched as the other Sunrise members bowed their heads and closed their eyes.

They’re doing this for me, she thought, amazed.

Just as the group finished praying, a plain-faced man in an expensive but rumpled suit entered the room. Everything about him spoke of excess, including the gold rings stuffed onto his sausagelike fingers, the loose double chin, and the swell of an overfed belly that strained the rich material of his double-breasted blazer. The large man gripped a Tupperware cake holder in his free hand as if it offered protection. Cooper could detect smudges of chocolate frosting shadowing the inside of the lid.

“Quinton?” Savannah lifted her nose in the air. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” Jake confirmed, his rough voice sounding worried. “What’s wrong, big man?”

Staggering toward the closest empty seat, Quinton fell into the chair, as though being shoved down by the force of a great burden. Cooper felt the atmosphere in the classroom transform. Gone was the light-spirited talk and intimate banter. Every set of anxious eyes was glued to Quinton’s troubled face.

“Savannah,” he murmured in an anguished tone, “a member of our congregation has been killed.” He put his face in his hands and, without looking up, said, “And Wesley Hughes has been arrested for murder.”

As a collective, the group gasped.

Quinton stared down at his trembling hands and tried locking them together. His agitated gaze shifted and alighted on Cooper. “Forgive me.” He spoke directly to her. “I think I’m still in shock. I’m Quinton.”

Jake rose and left the room, returning seconds later with a paper cup filled with water.

“Who was killed?” Jake asked, putting a hand on Quinton’s shoulder.

Quinton took a sip of water and then put down the cup and sighed. “I don’t know how to tell you this, because she was such a sweet and generous woman. She was . . .” He trailed off and dropped his gaze.

Cooper felt a deep sense of dread creep into her belly and rise inside her chest. She couldn’t tear her gaze from Quinton’s pained face, even when the anguished man looked up and stared at Cooper’s peculiar eyes.

“Oh, my friends,” he cried softly. “It’s Brooke Hughes. And her husband has been accused of killing her.”

Trish closed her gaping mouth and then opened it again. “Brooke! I just saw her at the Women’s Fellowship luncheon last week. She was happy, healthy. This is insane. She can’t be dead! And Wesley wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head!”

Quinton nodded, reluctant to confirm what he knew. “One of the officers who responded to the 911 call is a member. I just overheard him in the teachers’ lounge telling Pastor Matthews what he knew.” He pressed his fingers into his eyes to stop his tears from escaping. “The cops think Wesley’s responsible.”

Jake sprang to his feet, his face filled with fury. “Wesley Hughes wouldn’t step on a snake even if it bit him. He’s been an elder at this church for years. Those idiots have the wrong man!”

“Friends, friends!” Savannah called out urgently. “Reach out to one another. Hold on tight. Now is the time for prayer. Then, we’ll come up with a plan of action.”

The Sunrise Bible Study members grasped one another’s hands. Cooper hastily closed her eyes and took the hands of Jake and Savannah. They squeezed hers firmly and she took comfort from the warmth of their skin.

Savannah prayed for strength and discernment and for help in discovering the truth. She also asked for comfort for Wesley Hughes, which told Cooper that Savannah also refused to believe that he was capable of killing his wife.

Why Brooke? Cooper demanded silently, feeling a surge of anger. Who would murder such a lovely person?

At that moment she was grateful to be in this circle of strangers.

Even after their prayer was over, the Bible study members did not release one another’s hands. They stayed still for a long time, wordlessly mourning the loss of Brooke Hughes. And in the silence, no one let go.

And here’s an excerpt from the next book

in the Hope Street Church Mystery series

by Ellery Adams,

The Graves of the Guilty,

available now!

Cooper Lee is on top of the world, thanks to her great friends at Hope Street Church and the satisfaction of having solved two perplexing mysteries. And with Valentine’s Day just around the corner, she’s hoping that love is in the air for her and her new boyfriend, Nathan. But Cooper’s faith is about to be tested when her sister, Ashley, discovers a corpse and is implicated in the gruesome murder. And just as troubling, a darkly handsome and exciting man has come into Cooper’s life and just might tempt her to stray.

As Cooper and her friends from the Bible study group once again spring into action to root out a killer—and Cooper digs deep to solve a more personal mystery—she discovers that following the clues is raising more questions than answers. But one thing’s for certain: when cold-blooded criminals mess with Cooper’s family and friends, the killers haven’t got a prayer.

1

If Cooper Lee had known she would spend Friday night drinking champagne at an unfamiliar woman’s mansion while a trio of busty coeds modeled lingerie, she would have come up with any number of excuses to avoid the entire scene. Unfortunately, Cooper had completely misunderstood her sister’s invitation to accompany her to “a pajama party” being hosted by one of her high-society friends.

“Georgia Ferguson has such a gorgeous house. Wait until you see it!” Cooper’s sister Ashley had shouted over the roar of Cooper’s power sander the weekend before the infamous fete. “Can you turn that thing off for a second?”

After putting down the tool, Cooper slid her safety goggles onto the crown of her head, picked up a piece of sandpaper, and began working on the rough areas on a chapel-shaped birdhouse. “Why should I be interested in Georgia Ferguson’s house?”

Stopping Cooper’s hand with her own, Ashley announced, “Because I’m going to a party there next weekend and you’re coming with me.”

Imagining a room filled with Ashley’s sophisticated acquaintances, Cooper grimaced. “Why would I want to go to your friend’s party? No offense, but I have my own friends.”

Ashley drummed her fingers against the workbench and Cooper couldn’t help but admire her sister’s pristine French manicure. “Because I need you to help me select an array of fabulous new nighties and other items.”

Removing her safety glasses from the top of her wheat-blonde hair, she stared at Ashley with her intriguing mismatched eyes. “I’m not interested. Now, if that’s all, I’d like to get back to this.”

Ashley pushed sawdust scraps around with her finger, forming the outline of a wobbly heart on the surface of the table. “The truth is that I need to go to this party, Coop. I’m looking for a way to knock Lincoln’s socks off. To make him sit up and notice me like he used to.”

“Are you two having difficulties again?” Cooper looked at her sister with concern “Over the baby issue?”

A flash of misery crossed Ashley’s face and she marred the sawdust heart with a sweep of her hand. “I think Lincoln’s avoiding me. For the last few months he’s been attending lots of late meetings. Then there’s the golf outings with his daddy and brother every weekend—not to mention the poker nights.” Tears pooled in her lovely blue eyes. “I feel like I’m losing him.”

Pulling off her gloves, Cooper put her arm around her sister’s slim waist and squeezed. “He loves you, Ashley. He’d be crazy not to.”

Ashley sighed. “Love is hard work, isn’t it? Harder than I ever thought it would be. I had my dream wedding, Lincoln carried me over the threshold of our perfect house, and for a while, everything was wonderful. A true fairy tale. But then I was supposed to get pregnant and grow all round and cute and have that glow. I’d deliver the most precious beautiful little baby this world has ever seen and dress its sweet, precious body in hand-embroidered smocks and Robeez booties.” She sniffed. “Instead I find out I have a bicornuate uterus, and even after having surgery I’ll have a tough time getting pregnant.” She thumped the workbench and then eyed the sawdust on her palm in distaste. “I’ve never wanted anything so badly as I want this baby!”

Cooper cleaned up the sawdust using a small broom and dustpan. “Ashley, maybe you need to take a break from thinking about babies all the time. It obviously upsets you, and if you’re worried about your marriage, perhaps you and Lincoln should spend some quality time alone together.”

“That’s exactly what I’m planning.” Ashley’s good humor immediately returned. “I’ve booked us a romantic cruise to the Bahamas, but I need something incredible to wear when I surprise him with the trip. Something that will ensure he won’t say no to taking a week off work. That’s why we’re going to Georgia’s party.”

“So it’s like a trunk show?” Cooper asked.

“Exactly. All the women attending are married, so I doubt there’ll be anything scandalous for sale.” Ashley added, “I know it’s not your scene, Cooper, but it would really mean a lot to me if you came along. And you might even find yourself picking out something to wear for that magical moment when you and Nathan are ready.”

Ignoring her sister’s remark, Cooper said, “I guess I could use a new pair of pajamas.”

Ashley scrunched up her lips as though stifling a smile. “Whatever you set your cap on will be my treat. It’s the least I can do since you’ve agreed to come.” Shouldering her bright orange purse, she flicked a wave of glossy blonde hair off her shoulder. “I’ll pick you up next Friday at seven. Make sure you eat dinner first. You’re going to need something in your stomach to soak up all the alcohol.”

• • •

During the following week, Cooper was too busy to think about the Pajama Party. A manufacturer recall on one of Canon’s most popular copiers had every employee from Make It Work! scurrying to replace drums and fuser units across the city of Richmond as quickly as possible.

Cooper was just returning from an assignment at a pharmaceutical company’s headquarters when she was accosted in the locker room by one of her coworkers.

“Cooper!” She drew back as Emilio Calabria’s bass voice with its heavy New Jersey accent boomed in her ear. The dark-haired, square-jawed, muscular hunk grabbed her by the elbow. “You have to help me!” he shouted without preamble. “You’re a girl, so you must get how girls think.”

“Glad you noticed,” Cooper replied ruefully. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s our three-month anniversary. Me and Carla’s. I need to think of something cool to do. Should I take her out to dinner? Buy her something? How much is it going to cost to show her I’m better than all her ex-boyfriends? Do I have to get her some ice?”

“As in diamonds?” Cooper asked after a moment’s puzzlement. When Emilio nodded glumly, she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Unless you’re preparing to propose?”

Emilio paled. “No! I like this girl, but I am not ready to wear the old ball and chain. No way, no how.”

Grinning, Cooper moved over to the sink and began to scrub her hands. It was too easy to push Emilio’s buttons. Still, her coworker had earnestly sought her help, so the least she could do was take him seriously. “You don’t need to buy her anything. You could take Carla somewhere special. What does she like to do?”

“Same as me. Watch ESPN and reality shows on TV. Go out for big slabs of steak and cold beers. And when we want to get our groove on, we go clubbing.”

“You could make her a mixed CD of her favorite dance songs,” Cooper suggested.

He frowned and handed Cooper twice the number of paper towels she needed to dry off her hands. “No dice. I did that for our two-month anniversary. What about your man? Your church boy?” Emilio raised his brows. “What’s he given you that made you go weak in the knees?”

“Nathan bought me a bicycle for Christmas. It’s the old-fashioned kind, with lots of chrome, a straw basket, and a big rubber horn. I love it.” She smiled, remembering how Nathan had covered her eyes while he led her into his garage, where he’d hidden her shiny blue bike beneath a bedsheet. He’d whipped off the sheet in a dramatic flourish, revealing the bicycle and the curled red ribbons hanging from the handlebars. She had thrown her arms around him in delight, kissing him fervently.

“Now for your gift,” she’d whispered a few minutes later.

He’d pulled her close once again. “I don’t need anything else but you.”

Eventually, Cooper had led him through his kitchen and out the back door. Standing in the small garden area behind Nathan’s row house, she’d waited for his reaction upon seeing his gift. For the past month, she’d been busy in her father’s garage making a birdhouse in the shape of a TIE fighter, the spaceship Darth Vader piloted in Star Wars, Nathan’s favorite movie.

“Did you make this?” Nathan had been utterly delighted by the workmanship. When Cooper nodded, he told her that it was the best gift he’d ever received.

“I can thank you more properly inside,” he whispered, kissing her lightly just below her earlobe. And then the doorbell rang. Nathan’s sister had stopped by with her boyfriend, and what was supposed to be a romantic evening for Nathan and Cooper quickly became an intense Monopoly competition between the two couples.

“Carla won’t be bowled over by a bike,” Emilio grumbled, bringing Cooper back to the present.

“Why are you so worried about this gift, Emilio?” Cooper asked as they left the employee locker room and headed for the break room.

Emilio released a heavy sigh. “She’s been hanging out with the other mailmen more than usual. What if she’s thinking about ditching me for one of them?”

“Buying Carla something for your anniversary isn’t going to make everything better,” Cooper said. “You need to talk to her—find out how she’s feeling about your relationship.”

“Who do I look like?” Emilio spluttered indignantly. “That Dr. Phil clown? Ever since I told her how crazy I was about her she’s been less into me. I’m not going to do that again. Maybe I’ll make her jealous—make her realize how good she’s got it. Tons of chicks would thank their lucky stars to be with me.” He squared his shoulders and touched a lock of gelled hair.

Cooper pushed open the door to the break room. “That’s not a good plan, Emilio.”

“Pfahh! What do you know, anyhow? I heard you and your man haven’t even gone all the way.” He sat down in front of a foot-long sandwich and slung his arm around Angela, Make It Work!’s office manager. “Tell her what she’s missing, gorgeous. I’m sure you know how nice it is to have someone keeping you warm in the winter.”

“I like it downright toasty.” Angela handed Cooper an Italian hero from Subway and winked. “That’s right, I’ve got the fire department on standby, just in case things get too hot.”

As Angela and Emilio unwrapped their subs and bantered companionably, Cooper ate her lunch in a state of mute irritation.

Nathan and I aren’t any less of a couple because we’re showing restraint. I’m so sick of people assuming that we’re not in love because we haven’t slept together. I’ll show them, she vowed. Actually, we’ll show them! Nathan and me.

And with that, she took a big, satisfying bite of her sandwich.

• • •

“Why are you wearin’ pajamas to the table? You sick?” Grammy scrutinized Cooper from top to bottom. “Because if you are, you need to turn around and go back to your apartment. I’m goin’ to the P. Buckley Moss Museum tomorrow and I want to do some real damage at Golden Corral’s breakfast buffet beforehand.”

“I feel fine, Grammy.” Cooper squeezed her grandmother’s shoulders affectionately. “I’m going to a party with Ashley tonight and I’m supposed to dress like this.”

“You’re a little old for sleepover parties, ain’t you?” She cackled.

Cooper’s mother entered the kitchen and peeked into the oven. “Leave her be, Mama. She looks adorable.”

“You look cozy,” Earl said to Cooper as he took his seat at the head of the table. “I saw your latest birdhouse in the garage. What are you doing with that one?”

“Donating it to Hope Street’s winter bazaar. The church is raising money for a youth mission trip to Mexico,” Cooper replied.

“Can they send your daddy and me to Mexico?” Maggie laughed. “Seems like we haven’t been out of the state of Virginia since man walked on the moon.”

“Don’t stick around on my account,” Grammy said. “I know my way around the coffeepot and the can opener. What else does a woman my age need?”

Maggie smiled indulgently at Grammy. “We all know how independent you are, dear. It’s more about our empty piggy bank than us fretting over you. After all, Cooper would look after everything if we went away, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Cooper nodded—her mouth full of scalloped potatoes. She glanced at her father, who looked especially tired. As the head groundskeeper for one of Richmond’s private schools, he performed physical labor that men half his age would find fatiguing. And her mother baked gourmet cookies for a dozen sandwich shops in the West End of Richmond, waking up at four in the morning in order to produce three varieties of her famous Magnolia’s Marvels.

They’ve worked all their lives, Cooper thought. They really deserve a special vacation.

“He can retire in three years,” Maggie had told Cooper one Saturday as she’d packed plastic baggies of fresh-baked cookies. “But we’ve put aside every spare penny in case Grammy needs special medical care. We’re not going to let her rot away in some nursing home. She’s going to leave this earth with dignity—from her own bed—if it costs us the roof over our heads.”

Fortunately, Grammy was still perfectly healthy and spry. Sharp-tongued and witty, the matriarch of the Lee clan spent her time caring for stray animals, hovering in the kitchen in hopes of receiving rejects from Maggie’s cookie production, watching reality shows, and nagging her granddaughters about her desire to become a great-grandmother before meeting her Maker.

Cooper looked at her grandmother, who was shoveling pot roast into her mouth as though it were her last meal, and then flicked her gaze to her mother, who was assessing her husband from the corner of her eye. Cooper was about to suggest to her father that he might want to see a doctor when she heard the blast of Ashley’s horn.

“Ain’t she even gonna come in and say hello to her family?” Grammy frowned at Maggie. “You raised her better than that!”

Cooper noticed that her younger sister had been avoiding Grammy lately. Ashley wasn’t trying to be rude, but she already put so much pressure on herself over becoming pregnant that she couldn’t bear to hear anyone else raise the subject. Unfortunately, Grammy brought up the topic whenever she had the chance.

“We’re probably running late,” Cooper said hastily, covering for her sister. On impulse, she kissed her grandmother on the cheek and was warmed by the approval in her father’s smile. “Maybe I can start selling birdhouses, Daddy. Send you two on a vacation.”

“And go for days without seeing your pretty face? I’d rather be here at home.” Earl stacked his fork with butter beans. “Better get a move on. If your sister lays on that horn again, Grammy might run out there and give her what for.”

“Run?” Grammy laughed. She loved to be teased by her son. “You know I only pick up my pace when they’re handin’ out samples of chocolate at Costco.”

Cooper put on a long wool coat, buttoned it up to the neck, and exited the toasty house. Stepping into the dark night, she hunched her shoulders against the brisk winter wind and trotted over to Ashley’s Lexus. As soon as she opened the door, she was assaulted by the heady floral scent of her sister’s perfume. Ashley was dressed in a knee-length fur coat and brown leather boots with sharp heels.

“Is this real?” Cooper asked and placed a hesitant hand on her sister’s coat. “No wonder you didn’t want Grammy to see you! She would’ve had your head on a platter.”

“It’s faux sable, though it costs almost as much as the real thing. Isn’t that ridiculous? I should get a discount for being humane. And you know why I didn’t come inside.” Ashley accelerated on the empty road leading through the rural county where Cooper and the rest of the Lees lived. Watching the stark trees pass outside her window, Cooper suddenly longed to be back in her tiny apartment, laid out on her sofa beneath a thick afghan while Masterpiece Theater treated her to a Jane Austen remake.

“I know what you’re thinking over there,” Ashley said as if she were truly clairvoyant. “You’re already figuring on not having fun. Just because these women are married with kids does not mean they’re boring. And even though they have plenty of money in their wallets, they’re not necessarily shallow. So don’t feel intimidated by how they look.”

“How dressed up can they be? We’re all wearing pajamas, right?”

Ashley was too busy maneuvering the on-ramp to the interstate to answer right away. “What did you say?” she asked after merging directly into the center lane. “Who’s in pajamas?”

Cooper unbuttoned her coat to reveal her pink flannel top. “I am! Aren’t you?”

At first, Ashley looked horrified and then she began to laugh. The sound of her laughter overshadowed the music coming from the car’s speakers. “Oh, Coop!” she squealed. “You’ve already made this a night to remember! The girls are going to love you.”

Suddenly, Cooper reached over and yanked up the hem of her sister’s coat, revealing a white skirt embroidered with black flowers. “I totally misunderstood.” She gulped. “Turn around, Ashley. I need to change.”

“Not a chance. We’re late as it is and Georgia was adamant about people getting there before the show starts.”

Visualizing Chippendale dancers, a fog machine, and strobe lights, Cooper groaned, but when they entered Georgia Ferguson’s Spanish villa–style mansion fifteen minutes later, she was not surrounded by half-naked men, but by boisterous and cheerful women holding champagne glasses. To Cooper’s relief, they were dressed quite casually in pressed khakis and cotton blouses or simple skirts and sweater sets. Their jewelry, shoes, and handbags were expensive and elegant, yet understated, and they welcomed Cooper warmly. Twice, Georgia offered to take her coat, which Cooper refused to unbutton.

“My sister’s embarrassed because she thought she was supposed to wear pajamas tonight,” Ashley explained, pulling apart Cooper’s coat in order to allow her friend a glimpse of her sister’s ensemble.

“I think that’s a fabulous idea!” a woman wearing tight jeans and a lime-green turtleneck exclaimed. “I wish you had thought of that, Georgia. We could all be as comfy as this pretty lady is. Aren’t you clever!” She beamed at Cooper.

Another woman sidled up. “What is the evening’s entertainment, Georgia? You’ve been so mysterious about it.”

“You’re about to find out,” Georgia said with a wink.

Suddenly, music began to pump through the speakers in the spacious living room. Cooper recognized Lady Gaga’s latest dance song and tagged along behind a handful of women as they made their way to a row of folding chairs. A young woman dressed in black pants and a black blouse snapped her fingers in time to the music as she ushered stragglers to their seats.

Georgia stood in front of the chairs and grinned. “Thank you for coming to my first Pajama Party! As married women, we sometimes need to shake things up a bit, especially if you’ve known your other half as long as I’ve known mine. The way I see it? It’s our duty as wives to please our husbands and for our husbands to please us. So, in the name of marital bliss, I invite you to bring a little sizzle and a whole lot of ooh-la-la home to your hubby tonight. All purchases are private and will be conducted on a discreet, one-to-one basis in my kitchen. This is Lola.” Georgia gestured at the woman in black. “She’s given all of you order forms and pens. You’ll find them under your seats. Simply check off the items you’d like to buy as they are modeled for you. Now, is everyone armed with bubbly? Good, because this is not the time to be timid!”

A glass of champagne was shoved into Cooper’s hand. She took a grateful sip and, finally letting go of her coat, draped it over the back of her chair. The lights dimmed, the music was turned up a notch higher, and three voluptuous girls in their early twenties strutted into the room, wearing fishnet stockings and sexy silk nighties.

“Oh, my! I like the peach one!” A woman slid on a pair of reading glasses and uncapped her pen. “Would you look at that? They come in plus sizes, too. How nice! I can order one for my sister-in-law.”

The models did a brief twirl and then handed some of the ladies in the audience packets of panties to examine.

“Edible underwear!” One of the partygoers giggled. “Chocolate, strawberries and cream, vanilla caramel, and mocha. Charlie loves coffee. Should I try one?”

“Go for it, Dolores!” another woman coaxed her. “You heard what Georgia said. It’s our duty!” Both women laughed raucously.

The models returned wearing lacy bras and matching briefs. The women around Cooper muttered in approval over the ample coverage provided by the boy-cut briefs. “I thought this would be all about thongs and strapless bras. I could actually wear that outfit and not look too fat,” declared a woman Cooper believed was surely a size zero.

Pens scribbled on order pads. Cooper glanced shyly at the models and gulped her champagne, accepting a second glass from a tray that seemed to magically appear by her elbow just as she finished her first drink. The models were busily handing out black and red boxes labeled Dirty Girl, Lover Girl, and Naughty Girl. Each box contained a minuscule pair of panties, breath mints, a toothbrush, a condom, flavored body oil, a perfume sample, and two energy pills. The Lover Girl box also included a red feather and the Naughty Girl package came with a silk blindfold.

Cooper handed the boxes to her sister. “Are you getting any of these things?” she asked her while trying to get a clear view of the order pad on her lap.

Ashley shook her head. “I’m not feeling inspired yet, are you?”

“Inspired? I am totally weirded out.” Cooper guzzled more champagne. “I don’t need edible underwear,” she whispered.

Ashley scowled. “We’re here for me, remember? You don’t have to buy anything.” She examined the Dirty Girl box and passed it to the next woman.

Wire baskets filled with massage oils and scented candles found their way to Cooper’s row along with a serving tray loaded with truffles, bite-sized raspberry mousse cups, and strawberries dipped in white chocolate.

Amid all this excitement, the models came into the room for their encore wearing flowing nightgowns trimmed in lace. The cream-colored silk combined with the tight, brocade bodices produced an ethereal effect. Cooper was sorely tempted to make a mark on her order sheet, but something held her back.

“That’s what I want!” Ashley was thrilled. “Something beautiful, captivating, utterly romantic. With white candles, that nightgown and robe, and maybe a gardenia in my hair . . .” She made hasty marks on her paper.

“Where are you going to get a gardenia in the middle of winter?” Cooper inquired.

Ashley smiled. “I know an excellent florist. I’ll look like a spring bride. Fresh and lovely. He won’t be able to resist me.” She reached over and squeezed Cooper’s hand. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. It turned out to be a success. Cheers!”

Tapping the rim of her glass against Ashley’s, Cooper realized that she couldn’t recall whether she’d consumed three drinks or four. Her cheeks felt warm and the upbeat music and high-pitched laughter of the women seemed pleasantly boisterous.

Still, Cooper was glad that Ashley was more interested in placing her order and getting home than mingling with her friends. By the time the models had taken their bows and clothed themselves in jeans and sweatshirts, Ashley had already paid for her purchases and said her good-byes.

“Everyone was glad you came,” she said to Cooper once they were back in the Lexus. “They all think you’re really pretty. Georgia told me that her little brother’s single and quite a catch—but I told her you were perfectly happy.”

“Thanks,” Cooper replied, her words slurring slightly. “I am happy.”

Kneeling beside her bed a half hour later, Cooper folded her hands together and prayed that her sister’s marriage worries would come to a quick and decisive end. “And if Lincoln’s avoiding her, please guide him back home,” she added. “Before he wanders too far.”

Books by Ellery Adams

The Hope Street Church Mysteries

The Path of the Crooked

The Way of the Wicked

The Graves of the Guilty

The Books by the Bay Mysteries

A Killer Plot

A Deadly Cliché

The Last Word

Written in Stone

Poisoned Prose

Lethal Letters

The Charmed Pie Shoppe Mysteries

Pies and Prejudice

Peach Pies and Alibis

Pecan Pies and Homicide

The Book Retreat Mysteries

Murder in the Mystery Suite

Writing as J. B. Stanley

The Antiques & Collectibles Mysteries

A Killer Collection

A Fatal Appraisal

A Deadly Dealer

The Supper Club Mysteries

Carbs and Cadavers

Fit to Die

Chili Con Corpses

Stiffs and Swine

The Battered Body

Black Beans & Vice

Click here to see all of

Ellery Adams’s books at Amazon!

About the Author

Ellery Adams grew up on a beach near the Long Island Sound. Having spent her adult life in a series of landlocked towns, she cherishes her memories of open water, violent storms, and the smell of the sea. Ms. Adams has held many jobs, including caterer, retail clerk, car salesperson, teacher, tutor, and tech writer, all the while penning poems, children’s books, and novels. She now writes full-time from her home in Virginia.

Contents

Cover

Dear Reader,

The Way of the Wicked

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

Epigraph

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

Magnolia’s Marvels

Excerpt from The Path of the Crooked

Excerpt from The Graves of the Guilty

Books by Ellery Adams

About the Author