Looking for Trouble. Victoria Dahl
but by the sight of a very pretty, very angry young woman heading straight toward him on his mother’s front walkway. Her head was down, the sun glinting off her red hair, and her mouth held tight in a frown. The hands that clutched a crumpled pile of papers to her chest were white around the knuckles.
She was only two steps away when she looked up and stumbled to a stop. “Oh,” her pink lips said, her anger falling away to surprise for a brief moment. She pushed up her little black glasses. The anger returned within a few heartbeats and her flushed cheeks got even redder as her eyes narrowed, first at him, then at the door behind him.
“Here.” She shoved the papers at his chest, and Alex automatically caught them. Sticky tape grabbed at his fingers as he tried to catch the few sheets that slipped away. “Tell her to leave me the hell alone.”
“What?” he asked.
“I have tried to be patient, but I won’t tolerate harassment. I’ve reached my limit.” Her finger poked at the papers and a few more fell away. “Tell her to stay off my property and out of my life.”
“Who?” he started, but the wild bundle of female fury spun away from him and stalked off. Alex’s eyes followed her as she turned left and marched down the street. The skirt of her green dress swayed with the movement of her hips, the black belt drawing his eye to her slim little waist. He lost sight of her when she reached some pine trees, but kept staring for a few seconds anyway. Who in the world had that been?
Remembering the papers, he juggled them until he could finally read one, and the murky confrontation became slightly clearer. They were all copies of the same flyer. Not a professional flyer, but something typed in all caps on a computer and printed in an obnoxiously large font. An announcement of the memorial service for his dad. Written in the sort of flowery language that could only have been conjured by an obsessed mind. His mother had printed these and taped them somewhere, apparently on that woman’s property.
For a moment, Alex considered going back into his mom’s house and asking who the woman was and why his mother had assaulted her with flyers, but curiosity wasn’t a strong enough pull to force him back into that mess.
He stuffed all the flyers into his mom’s mailbox and got on his bike, looking down the street in the hopes of spying the mystery woman as he buckled on his helmet. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was sick of his mother’s madness. What a breath of fresh air.
THIS WAS SO humiliating.
Sophie Heyer slid a little lower in her seat, then considered continuing the slide until she was underneath the conference-room table and could crawl out of the library meeting room. But that might draw attention. After all, there were only four others in the room, and they each kept shooting side glances at her, as if waiting for her to break.
She suspected someone had purposefully scheduled this meeting on Sophie’s day off, but she’d ruined the plan by picking up an afternoon shift from Betty, who had a sick baby at home. Well, Sophie was here now. She wasn’t going to cower.
She made herself sit a little straighter and raised her chin, then ruined the confidence by nervously adjusting her reading glasses.
“I think that’s about it!” Merry Kade, the curator of the Providence Ghost Town, finished her presentation with a big smile. “I can’t thank you enough for providing space in the library to commemorate the dedication of the Wyatt Bishop Providence Trail. It means so much to the family.”
Jean-Marie, the library director, nodded sternly. “We’re honored. They’ve played such an important part in the history of Jackson.” Her eyes cut briefly to Sophie, then she cleared her throat and forced a smile. “The display will be a great educational opportunity for people who’ve never made it out to Providence. Thank you for loaning us the items.”
The curator gathered up her presentation papers and offered a friendly goodbye to everyone. She seemed to be the only person unaware of the tension her talk had caused.
Jean-Marie clasped her hands tightly together and cleared her throat one more time, looking solemnly over her employees. “I’d love to have the display done by tomorrow afternoon as the dedication is coming up this weekend. Lauren, would you be willing to—?”
“I’ll do it,” Sophie interrupted.
All eyes turned toward her. No one said a word. She willed her cheeks not to burn as she raised her eyebrows. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Jean-Marie said quickly. “Of course not. I just thought...”
Sophie tipped her head in what she hoped looked like innocent bewilderment.
“I mean...” Jean-Marie cleared her throat. “Of course. If you’d like to take on the project...”
“It only makes sense,” Sophie said. “I’m working until seven and you know how quiet it’s been. I should be able to get it finished before I leave.”
They all sat in awkward silence for a few more beats before Jean-Marie stood. “Wonderful. As you know, the Providence Historical Trust is considering sponsoring a new local history section in the library. I’d like them to be pleased with this display, so let me know if you need anything from me or from the trust. I’ll be happy to contact them for you. We don’t need any drama.”
Jean-Marie left the room, followed by her loyal administrative assistant, Yolanda. Sophie and Lauren stood, too. Lauren closed the door. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great,” Sophie said, lying to her friend without any guilt at all.
“Are you sure? I was a little surprised you volunteered to work on it.”
“It really doesn’t have anything to do with me, so no big deal.”
Lauren watched her for a long moment, doubt written in every line of her face, but she finally shrugged. “All right. It’s your family scandal. As long as it doesn’t affect our girls’ night out tonight, you do whatever you want.”
That actually made Sophie laugh, but she still made a quick escape, grabbing the box of artifacts and heading for the small lobby of the library.
Her family scandal. God, she’d thought it was finally behind her. But she should’ve known better. It had been part of her life for as long as she could remember and it always would be if she stayed in Jackson. But she knew how to deal with it. The same way she always had: by defying everyone’s expectations. By being a good girl and not losing her cool. By not giving them anything to talk about.
She hadn’t quite maintained that cool this afternoon, but Mrs. Bishop was pushing Sophie to the brink. The woman had made Sophie’s childhood a nightmare, and now she’d picked it up again twenty-five years later like a returning plague of locusts.
When Sophie had moved into her uncle’s vacant house on Fair Street a year ago, she’d had no idea that Rose Bishop lived a few houses away. She hadn’t thought of the woman in years. That part of her life had seemed as far away as it could be.
The first time she’d caught sight of Mrs. Bishop coming out of her house, Sophie almost hadn’t recognized her. She looked like a harmless old woman now instead of the threat she’d represented to Sophie as a child. But harmless old woman was just a disguise, apparently. Rose Bishop had lain in wait, pretending to only give Sophie the cold shoulder at first. But now it was full-out war. Sophie had awoken this morning to find two dozen flyers about the dedication ceremony taped to her front door. Unbelievable.
She finished adjusting the shelves of the glassed-in display nook, then carefully placed the artifacts that Merry Kade had brought over. An old rolling pin, some woodworking tools, metal toy soldiers a child had played with long ago. There were also pictures of the town and printed descriptions of each item. Sophie really wouldn’t have to do much work at all, but the display would look too bare without more.
She