The Worst Best Friend: A Small Town Romance

The door opens again before I can protest. Marty and Thelma Simon hurry inside the building. My breath stalls as I look for Shelly behind them, but she’s not there.

“Sorry,” Marty says. “Gram insisted on coming tonight. Shelly wanted to come along, too, but someone had to stay at the B&B.”

I’m instantly concerned. “She’s there alone?”

Marty doesn’t have a chance to say more than yes, when a nurse steps out asking for Faye’s family. We all move toward her, identifying ourselves.

“Faye’s being assessed right now,” the middle-aged senior nurse says. “Head wounds are always scary because they can produce a lot of blood, but sometimes they aren’t as bad as they look. I’m pleased to report that looks like the case here. No fractures to her skull or critical blood loss. She’s heading to cardiology right now to make sure her heart’s okay.”

“Is she conscious?” I ask, sighing with some small relief.

“Yes, she came to in the ambulance,” the nurse replies. “Are you Weston?”

“Yeah, her great-nephew.”

“She wants to speak to you as soon as she’s able.” The nurse smiles. “She’s very insistent. The doctor said she would hardly calm down until she knew she could reach you, so I’d like you to come with me and wait. Her scans should be finished shortly.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“I’m her nephew and his uncle,” Grady says, pointing a thumb at me. “Can I come too?”

“Yes, but the rest of you will have to wait. Visitor policies.”

“We’ll be right back,” Grady tells Willow and the kids as we follow the nurse through a large set of swinging metal doors.

Five minutes later, Grady and I look at each other as soon as another set of doors close behind us. We can already hear Aunt Faye, and she sounds pretty pissed.

“I told you she was very insistent,” the nurse says.

As soon as we enter her room, Faye lets out a deafening gasp, her frizzy hair bobbing. “Oh, thank God you boys are here!”

“How are you feeling?” I ask, arriving at her side with Grady right behind me.

“That doesn’t matter,” she says somewhat breathlessly. “Weston, I have to tell you what happened! I was in the living room, wondering what I should put in the corner where that shelf was. The one you carried out to the garage—I sold it—did I tell you that?”

I glance at the doctor studying a screen in the corner and grimace.

This is Aunt Faye. Her explanations are never short.

“No, you didn’t, but I’m glad to hear it.”

“Yes, well, I sold it to Thelma right before I left Amelia’s. She wants to put some of Doug’s old wood carvings on it from down in the basement. It’s still in the garage, though, because we need you to haul it to her house in your pickup.” She waves a hand in the air. “Anyway! I was in the living room, wondering what to put in my corner, when it felt like a piano came down on my head. He was there—both of them—barging in through the door I forgot to lock. He just hit me without saying a solitary word.”

“Who did?” I ask, swallowing a growl.

“It happened so fast. I...I wasn’t sure until I woke up in the ambulance because I never got a good look at them—but then it dawned on me,” she says slowly, licking the corner of her lip in thought.

I wait for more, but all she does is nod.

“You remembered something?” Uncle Grady asks, far more calmly than I could.

“Yes!” She points at her nose. “I could smell them.”

“Smell? Who?” Grady asks, his brow furrowed.

“That strange little squirrel of a man and his hideous nuts. I could smell those almonds he’s obsessed with. Ask Thelma—they stink terribly—but boys, you...you’ve gotta warn her! If he did this to me, he could go after Amelia’s for one last snatch and grab before he makes his getaway. He lives for antiques.”

“Carson Hudson.” His name falls out of my mouth like a dry curse.