Where Wildflowers Bloom: A Novel by Ann Shorey

Author:Ann Shorey [Shorey, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042030, Christian, FIC027050, Fiction, Romance, FIC042040, Historical
ISBN: 9781441236005
Google: PMQEBI30G5wC
Amazon: 0800720741
Publisher: Revell
Published: 2012-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Faith rolled her shoulders to loosen tight muscles. Across the counter, Curt scribbled names and amounts into a notebook. He flipped to a new page and stopped. “What’s this?”

She leaned over and followed his pointing finger. 20327. “I don’t know—I’ve run across those numbers a few times in this ledger too. I hoped you’d have an answer.”

“Doesn’t mean anything to me.” He rubbed his temple. “You know how your grandfather can be forgetful. Maybe these numbers jumped into his mind and he wrote them down, like he does his stories.”

Faith doubted the explanation. Grandpa’s stories were random. This set of numbers was consistent.

Curt straightened. “Maybe they’re a combination for a lock. Does he keep a money box at home?”

“I’ve never seen one.” A draft blew across her feet. The burlap curtain that concealed the entrance to the storeroom slid forward, then dropped back. She glanced at the front door, but it remained closed. A prickle of alarm marched up her spine. “Did you feel that?” she asked Curt in a whisper.

“What?”

“Cool air, like someone opened a door.” She kept her voice low. “You don’t suppose Grandpa followed us, do you?”

“It’s late. He’s probably fast asleep.”

A floorboard creaked.

Curt’s eyes widened. He tugged off his boots and laid them down without making a sound, then slid from his chair and crept toward the storeroom.

Faith gripped the edge of the counter, listening to the thrum of her heart. Her grandfather would never sneak up on them. She wished she’d listened when he suggested she keep a revolver under the cash drawer.

With a swift movement, Curt flung open the curtain. She hoped he had enough light from the lamp overhead to see into the room. Boots thudded. Another burst of outside air lifted the burlap. She heard crates being shoved aside as Curt pushed his way to the alley door. Then the bolt slid into place and he padded back to the circle of light.

“Couldn’t see a face. Might’ve been another one in the alley.” He pinned her with a stern glance. “Why wasn’t that door bolted?”

“I leave it open during the day so Grandpa can come and go.” She fought to control the quiver in her voice. “I just forgot to secure it when we left today.”

He gathered her hands in his. “You’ve got to be more careful. You’ve been robbed once, and it looks to me like whoever it was came back for more.” The expression on his face conveyed a depth to his feelings she hadn’t seen before.

She swallowed the flutter in her throat at the sensation of his large hands enclosing hers. What would it be like—?

Stop it, she told herself. He’s only worried about a robbery. Drawing away, she lifted a pencil. “Maybe we should see if we can finish this tonight.”

Curt’s face flushed. He took his boots from the countertop and slid his feet into them. “I’d rather look around outside. We’ll finish another time.” He closed the ledger he’d been using. “Stay here. I’ll walk you home in a few minutes.

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