Trouble Under the Tree by Heather Webber

Author:Heather Webber [Webber, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Amazon: B006FI51M8
Published: 2011-11-27T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

A few hours later, I checked the clock and glanced out the window again. The porch light, lamppost, and various decorations illuminated the snow and little else. Still no sign of Kevin. I hadn’t seen him since shortly after Fairlane’s body had been discovered.

Mr. Cabrera had been taken to the hospital because of a cut on his head, and the doctors wanted to keep him overnight for observation in case he suffered a concussion. Otherwise, he was just fine, thank goodness. Last I heard, he had company. Brickhouse had fought her way through the storm to be by his side.

Snow continued to fall, and I was feeling a bit betrayed by the meteorologists. There was no way all this snow would be gone by the weekend . There had to be ten inches outside already. A veritable blizzard by Cincinnati standards. The city—and outlying areas—would be closed for days. Riley’s high school had already called off classes for tomorrow, which was supposed to be his last day before Christmas break. He was going to be thrilled.

Currently, he was up in his room playing video games. Maria was in my room, tucked into my bed, snoring on my pillows. Once the clock struck nine, she couldn’t stop yawning and turned in. Nate had been stranded downtown and had luckily scored a hotel room within walking distance of his office.

Soft Christmas carols played from overhead speakers as I put a pot of coffee on and took my package from Bobby into the living room. Gracie slept in front of the hearth and lifted a sleepy head when I came in, but didn’t bark or piddle, so I figured my night was looking up.

Flames crackled in the fireplace as I sat on the sofa. I drew an afghan over my lap and stared at the envelope Bobby had sent. I had wanted a little privacy when opening it. A very young, girly part of me wanted a long sappy love letter. After all, it had been weeks since I had seen him, and we’d had startling little communication in that time. He was busy with his mom—I understood that—but I was beginning to feel like he’d forgotten about me.

I carefully tore the perforated strip along the top of the bubble envelope, took a deep breath and reached inside. A gurgle of anticipation grew in my stomach. My fingertips felt a bit of plastic inside the envelope, and I pulled.

And stared at what came out.

It was an Almond Joy. Or used to be, at least.

Somewhere along the package’s journey, the Almond Joy had melted, pooling on one side of its wrapper, where it hardened once again. One side of the candy bar was a hard round blob, the other side flopped with emptiness.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

The first present I ever got from Bobby was a case of Almond Joys, after I’d had a bit of a sugar-crash in his former office and he’d given me a candy bar to stave off a compete meltdown.

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