Boo Who (21 page)

Opening the door to his home, he went inside, feeling emotionally fatigued. Desperation, he knew, made people do crazy things. He wondered how many people were rushing to get coffee right now.

Ainsley smiled as she peeked around the corner to see her father and Wolfe sitting in the living room watching the football play-offs together. How could she have ever imagined this day? And to think he would soon be her husband. A chill of joy tickled her.

Back in the kitchen, though, her thoughts turned once again to the missing Wise Men. In just a few days, she would have to put the Nativity set away. She still could not imagine who would’ve done such a thing! While her brother was here for the holidays, he’d done some minor investigating and hadn’t turned up a thing. She thought swiping someone’s Wise Men was pretty low, and if she ever found out who did it, they’d be hearing a word or two from her.

After putting the finishing garnishes on the meatloaf, and attending to the decor on the table, she finally announced that dinner was ready. Wolfe and her father joined her in the dining room.

When the sheriff finished saying grace, she said, “Dad, I’m worried about Reverend Peck.”

“Oh?”

“Church was crazy today. Weren’t you there?”

The sheriff had stuffed his mouth, so he shook his head. After swallowing he said, “No. Thief wasn’t doing well this morning. I had to bring his food bowl to him and his water. After I scratched his tummy for over an hour, he finally decided he might want to go outside. But ten minutes later he wanted to come inside.”

“Yes, well, back to Reverend Peck. He’d taken out half the pews, marked off only a handful of parking spaces, and made everyone pay a dollar for a bulletin.”

“Really? Sounds like we have a newly converted entrepreneur on our hands.” The sheriff snorted out a laugh.

“Dad, this isn’t a joke. Something’s wrong.”

The sheriff sighed. “Something’s wrong with this whole town, Ainsley. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you
see
it? Mayor Wullisworth is just one example. Thief is another.”

Ainsley stared at her food. “What are we going to do?”

“Thief’s going to see a shrink.”

Her mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

“Apparently he takes mammals as well as humans.”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“He just moved to Skary. Dr. Hass.” The sheriff lowered his voice. “I only heard about him because Melb told Martin to take the mayor there. I don’t know how Melb knows about him, one can only guess. But he comes highly recommended.”

“You’re taking your cat to a therapist.”

“Look at him, Ainsley. He hardly moves. Remember how vibrant and alive he used to be? He’s near dead now. What would you propose that I do?” The defensiveness in her father’s tone made her try her best
to be supportive. She glanced at Wolfe, whose expression could not hide the shock in his eyes.

“Whatever you think will help, Daddy.”

“I’m only telling you this, because maybe that’s what Reverend Peck needs. Maybe his head needs a doctor.”

She sighed. “All I know is that in all my years of knowing Reverend Peck, he has never preached on the
s
word before.”

“Shame?”

“No. It rhymes with
x
.”

“Extra shame?”

“Sex, Dad.”

With wide eyes, the sheriff diverted his attention to his potato salad and then matter-of-factly said the therapist’s phone number was on the refrigerator if she wanted to hand it along to the reverend. Then he took his meadoaf and went to the living room to finish watching the ball game.

Ainsley looked at Wolfe, who was staring down at the table, deep in thought. “You okay, Wolfe?”

“I can’t help but think this is all my fault,” he said, not looking at her.

“What’s your fault?”

“This town depended on me. I’ve let them down.”

She grabbed his hand. “Wolfe! Don’t talk like that. None of this is your fault. This town has always struggled. For a few years you brought us prosperity, but it’s not your job to do that. And God has a plan for you away from your old life. You must know that, right?”

Wolfe nodded. “But Ainsley, I’ll be honest. I’m miserable selling cars.”

“You haven’t sold a car yet, have you?”

Wolfe shook his head. “Not a real one, anyway. Maybe if I do I’ll understand that high Oliver keeps talking about. But right now, it’s all I can do to roll out of bed and get dressed.” He shrugged. “Maybe I should be grateful. Maybe that’s what’s wrong. I’m not being grateful for what I have. Instead I want something different. I thought I wanted an ordinary life. Now I’m not so sure.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to make this better.”

He smiled as he looked in her eyes. “You make it better just by being by my side. I can’t wait for you to be my wife. I can’t wait to see you in your dress on our wed—”

“Dress! Oh no!”

“What?”

“I forgot! I was supposed to go to the tailor yesterday! I made the dress an inch too long.” She hopped up from the table. “I’m going to have to reschedule. But when? I’m supposed to go pick out invitations and design the cake—oh and get bridesmaids’ gifts. Have you booked the rehearsal dinner yet?”

“Already done.”

Relief settled her panicked heart. “Okay, good. At least that’s done.” She went to the kitchen and got her folder. “I have to keep up with this list. I’ve got to pay attention, or I’m going to forget something important. Sweetheart, will you excuse me? I’ve got to go write out exactly how we want our invitations worded, okay?”

Wolfe nodded, and she bounded upstairs, her mind stretching itself in ten different directions. She was usually so organized. Why did things seem so discombobulated?

She went to her desk drawer to get the invitation catalog. But after five minutes of searching, she couldn’t find it. A familiar tightening of the throat made her sit on the bed and try to hold back the tears.

She didn’t remember reading anything about a meltdown in her mother’s diary.

CHAPTER 18

M
ELB DABBED THE TISSUE
to the corner of her eye, the way she knew a proper woman should. If she could say anything for those romance novels she used to read, they’d taught her some manners. Because what she really wanted to do right now was wail and carry on and blow all of her problems into a Kleenex.

She looked at Dr. Hass, who seemed somewhat dismayed that she was even shedding tears. What kind of therapist hadn’t seen a person cry before? Maybe it was that she got splotchy. Since she was a kid, she’d been plagued by splotchy crying. Her friends would cry and look adorable. She would cry and look as if she’d rolled in poison ivy.

“I’m just desperate,” Melb continued. “I have less than a month to my wedding day, Dr. Hass. And I keep eating and eating.”

“Did you start a hobby?”

“Oh yes. And I’ve been faithful to it. It’s actually fun. I’ve been owling.”

“Howling?”

“Owling. It’s this thing you do with owls. Anyway, it has relieved a lot of stress. But I’m still tempted to eat what I shouldn’t, and when I shouldn’t. I think,
Don’t eat that cookie.
And my body hears,
Eat three cookies.”

“You say you’re stressed. About the wedding?”

“Well, not just about the wedding. That’s part of it. Certainly trying to drop this much weight to fit into my wedding dress has been stressful. But I’m also feeling guilty.”

“About?”

Melb tore up her tissue, then looked at Dr. Hass, her bottom lip quivering. “The wedding budget. Oliver and I sat down and agreed on a budget, and I’ve completely blown it.”

“He’ll understand.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He runs a very tight ship at his car business, and if there’s one thing I know about Oliver, he doesn’t fool around about money.”

“But if you two are to be wed, don’t you think honesty is the best way to start out the marriage?”

Tears streaked Melb’s cheeks as she nodded. “That would be nice, Dr. Hass. But obviously you’ve been reading too many self-help books. Sometimes in real life, the truth is better left buried until one can fix it so that the other one never knows what happened.”

“What’s your plan to fix it?”

Melb rubbed the bits of Kleenex up and down her cheeks. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Melb,” Dr. Hass said, “I can’t fix your problems by lying for you, or coming up with a scheme. But I can tell you how to find peace in your heart about this situation, and possibly lose weight too. You say that you’ve been getting stressed. A lot of people eat when they are stressed. You say you are under stress because you are hiding this secret about overspending on your wedding budget.”

“That sounds right,” Melb admitted.

“So it seems to me, the solution lies in confession.”

“Confession?” Melb choked on the word.

“You must confess to Oliver what you have done.”

Melb shook her head.
“No!
I can’t do that!”

“Melb, do you believe you will find peace in your heart if you don’t?”

“I may not find peace in my heart,” Melb retorted, standing up, “but I will find a piece of pie!”

“Excuse me?” Dr. Hass asked.

“I’m hungry. And our time’s up anyway. Don’t you watch the clock?

For crying out loud, were fifteen minutes over, and I’m not paying another dime!”

“Melb, please, wait.”

“Dr. Hass,” Melb said, “if I wanted to hear the word
confession
, I’d go see the reverend!” She slammed the door behind her.

Martin Blarty was feeling slightly self-conscious as he sat on the back porch of the mayor’s house in a pair of shorts that hadn’t seen the light of day in three decades, along with his legs. Pasty didn’t really begin to describe his skin, and though it was just he and the mayor, it was still mortifying nevertheless. Not to mention the fact that the scene was complete with beach towels, Hawaiian breezes (a concoction of red punch, pineapple juice, and rum, but since the mayor had forgotten two out of the three ingredients, it was really just punch), sunglasses, and a Beach Boys tape playing in the background.

The mayor had insisted Martin join him, and Martin, trying to remember Dr. Hass’s advice, decided to let him continue his fantasy, while at the same time dropping subtle hints about reality.

A little hard to do in this bizarre setting.

The mayor was chitchatting about this and that, and Martin decided this might be the time to drop some sort of remark about how broke the town was. But suddenly the mayor blurted out, “Maybe I need to find a wife.”

Martin’s mouth was wide open because his words had been stopped in their tracks. But it remained wide open as he tried to process the mayors words.

“It’s time. I’ve been a bachelor for far too long, Martin. And what good are the sunny days without someone to share them with?”

Martin thought he was doing awfully well sharing the sunny days with his friend. Who else would wear shorts in forty degree weather?

Martin was glad when the mayor got up to go fill their glasses with
punch. His emotions ran the gamut, from being utterly angry and despising the mayor for being completely incapable of handling Skary’s dire situation, to feeling sad that the man he thought was so strong had turned out to be so weak.