Born in a Barn (Clucks and Clues Cozy Mysteries Book 4) by Hillary Avis

Author:Hillary Avis [Avis, Hillary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hilyard Press
Published: 2020-11-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

The halo came crashing down around my shoulders the instant I stepped out of the guest room. There was Peterson on the couch, glued to his phone, typing away with his thumbs, oblivious to Izzy and J.W. who were trying to get his attention by untying the laces on his oxfords.

Andrea swooped by, steering the twins away from him. “Don’t bug Gamp. He’s doing important stuff.”

It broke my heart. I felt like I was watching Andrea’s childhood play out all over again—except this time it was her kids being ignored and Andrea making the excuses instead of me. I wanted to scream at him to wake up! He was missing out on moments he wasn’t going to get back! But my phone alerted me that Ruth had sent the Chamber of Commerce list, so I left him to rot on his keister and followed Andrea back to the kitchen.

“Do you mind getting dinner in the oven?” I asked apologetically. “I need to step out for a bit.”

Andrea lowered her voice and drew me over to the side of the kitchen so the kids wouldn’t overhear. “Are you mad at Dad again? I saw how you were looking at him out there.”

She seemed so miserable that I couldn’t tell her the truth. “Something just came up with one of the community events, and I need to make some calls. I promise, I will be nice to him tonight. We’re going to have a happy Christmas, all of us together.”

I’d fake it if it killed me. It was the least I could do for her and the kids. We’d end his visit on a good note and then in the morning, he’d vanish back to Southern California where he belonged and the rest of us would have some real fun.

She shot me a relieved smile, and I bundled up and headed out to the porch to cold-call half the businesses in Honeytree. An hour later, I had a short but bountiful list of donations. The Pastry Palace volunteered ten pumpkin pies, the Rx Café offered five cranberry cheesecakes, and Ed promised fifteen dozen cinnamon-sugar donuts from the Greasy Spoon’s deep-fryer if I’d pick them up in the morning and deliver them myself.

When I texted Ruth with my successes, she sent me a whole screen of hearts, then added, “Great! The grocery store is going to donate two boxes of oranges and a big urn of coffee, and Shelly says she has a ton of extra poinsettias that we can have if they’re not sold by tomorrow afternoon.” Shelly was the woman who ran the florist shop. Ruth had really called everyone in the Chamber. Another message zipped in beneath the last. “The insurance office gave me a check so we can buy drinks. What else should we get besides creamer for the coffee?”

I didn’t even have to think before I texted back. “Save the $$ for next year. Lucky Cluck Farm will donate twenty gallons of apple cider.”

“Are you sure? Never mind, don’t answer that—we’ll take it.

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