As Brax strode out, Holt pulled out his phone to do the same. He opted for a text in case she actually had gone back to sleep.
Had a little break-in. Some vandalism. Everybody’s fine.
The phone in his hand vibrated with an incoming call almost immediately. Definitely not asleep.
“Hey.”
“How bad?” Cayla asked.
“Not near as bad as what we dealt with before. Alarm scared him off before he could get too far. The bakery cases are toast, but nothing much else seems damaged. There are far more expensive things they could’ve targeted.” He strode back into the kitchen and flipped on the lights to make sure he wasn’t a liar. But everything was as spotless and ruthlessly organized as they’d left it. Same with the walk-in cooler.
“That’s something, I guess.”
“I have to ask, because the cops will. Is this the sort of thing you think Arthur might pull?”
She hesitated. “I wouldn’t have thought so. This isn’t the sort of thing he’s done before. He’s not one for getting his hands dirty directly. But maybe? With our credit locked down, he can’t get at us via his usual means. And maybe he couldn’t find an attorney who’d take a custody case seriously.”
Holt very much doubted that was accurate, but his priority at the moment was keeping her calm and making sure she didn’t fall into an unnecessary spiral of anxiety.
“Look, the cops are here. We’re gonna give our statements and hang around to clean this mess up, figure out what we can do in the meantime so we can still open for business tomorrow.” He checked his watch and grimaced. “Today. I’ll be in touch later.”
“Okay.”
“And try to go back to bed. I know your day’s pretty packed with everything you shifted around to be here for us yesterday.”
She sighed. “You’re not wrong. I’ll make a cup of Sleepytime tea and try to lie back down. I’ve got Maddie this morning, and if you need to be free to deal with stuff at the bakery in the afternoon, Mama can get her from school.”
“I don’t know how the day’s going to go, so let’s just plan on that.”
“I’ll see you later.”
As soon as he’d finished the call with his wife, he dialed another familiar number.
“Dude, do you have any idea what time it is?” Cash complained.
“I do, and I’ll consider it payback for you running your mouth and getting me in trouble with my sister.”
There was a beat of silence, then the sound of covers rustling. “What do you need?”
* * *
Cayla wasgrateful she’d already planned to clear the morning to work on her office. She understood how the gossip train ran in this town. If she’d had client meetings, talk would inevitably have turned to the latest break-in at the bakery, and people would want answers she didn’t have. She didn’t know who would spill the beans, but someone would. Likely customers who showed up to find the bakery closed for the day. Holt hadn’t been home since he left in the wee hours. He and the guys were hard at work on cleanup and repairs and whatever else was necessary to get them back to business as usual. Not that there’d been time to even establish a usual yet.
One thing she and Holt hadn’t discussed in terms of their marriage was finances. It hadn’t seemed necessary when they both thought it would be a temporary situation. But as it seemed like maybe it was building toward something more permanent, that meant problems with his business could ultimately impact their household, so she felt compelled to do what was necessary to keep hers in the black. That included making her office a warm, welcoming space for clients. She understood that comfortable clients were more likely to book her services. Plus, having real, professional office space made her look more legit.
The scarred wood floors hadn’t been refinished. That was more expense than she wanted for a space she didn’t technically own. But she’d found a nice carpet remnant from a flooring retailer in Johnson City and had it bound into a rug that covered most of the surface. Courtesy of Holt, she’d been able to refinish her flea-market sideboard. Redone in the same rustic chic farmhouse style as the dining set she’d repainted—because it was a finish that hid a multitude of blemishes—it now graced the entryway, just waiting for art and accessories to make it pop. The table and chairs had been placed in front of the biggest window. The giant marker board she wanted to hang on the adjacent wall was leaning against it, waiting for another set of hands to help complete the task.
Mia was supposed to stop by for that, but after last night, it was entirely possible she had other things to deal with. Another break-in probably brought up all kinds of terrible memories from what had happened there before. She hadn’t talked much about it with Cayla, but it didn’t take a genius to see she’d struggled a lot after. Who wouldn’t after being held at gunpoint? Thank God for Brax. He’d been Mia’s rock through all of it, and seeing the two of them rekindle their marriage after a decade of estrangement had done Cayla’s romantic heart good, even before they’d asked her to coordinate their vow renewal ceremony.
Assuming she’d be on her own, Cayla threw herself into finishing what she could without an extra set of hands. Needing the distraction from her own worry, she brought in an array of fun and funky containers she’d picked up for a song at that same flea market. Some would ultimately be repurposed to hold plants. Others would be used for office supplies or to hold business cards and fliers. Still others would be eventually clustered on shelves as examples of the sorts of containers that could be utilized for centerpieces. She’d do a rotation of those on the table from week to week, coordinating with Misty as cross advertising between their businesses. Art came next. Several months back, she’d hit upon a treasure trove of vintage women’s magazines from the 1940s. She’d pulled bridal advertisements from all of them and dressed them up with simple mats and black frames. They were unique and, she hoped, classy. She’d just hung the last of them in a grouping on the entryway wall when Mia strode through the door.
“Sorry I’m late. I was helping the guys repair the floor.”
“It’s totally fine. I kind of figured we’d need to reschedule with everything going on.” And given the shadows beneath her eyes, Cayla wasn’t entirely sure they shouldn’t.
Mia twitched her shoulders, shifting on her feet in a way Cayla recognized as a need to take control of something. “I said I would, and I need to keep busy. I’m too distracted to be on any of my formal job sites today.”
“Have they found out anything else since last night?”
She set her toolbox and drill case on the table. “Not really. The police dusted for prints, but there are prints everywhere. It’s a public space, and half the town went through there yesterday. Nobody expects them to get very far with that. Meanwhile, the guys have gotten the mess cleaned up and are working on coming up with some kind of alternative display until they can make arrangements to replace the cases.”
Cayla winced. “How bad was it? I haven’t been over to see for myself. I felt like I might be in the way.”
“Once the mess was cleaned up, not terrible. It looked worse than it was last night.”
“You were there with the guys last night?”
“Yeah.” Mia flipped open the toolbox and pulled out a tape measure, automatically moving to the wall for the marker board.
“That had to be hard after… what happened.”
“It wasn’t great. But it was better than being left at home to wait and worry.”
“I hear that. Obviously, I stayed home with Maddie. Holt kept telling me I should go back to sleep. As if I actually could. So I took advantage of being awake and worked on plans for decorating this place.”
Mia scanned what she’d done with the space and nodded. “It’s coming together. Gonna look good when you’re done. How high do you want this thing?”
Between the two of them, they lifted the marker board, and Mia marked the height.
“Did the guys have any theories about who might have done this?”
She selected a drill bit and popped it in the chuck. “I’d heard your ex was being considered for this. Do you buy that?”
“Holt asked me about that last night. I mean, I have a hard time imagining Arthur doing something like this. It’s not his style. He’s all about trying to outsmart people because he likes to believe that he’s the smartest person in the room. This feels too… brutish? Which isn’t to say he doesn’t have a temper or the capacity to destroy things. He certainly looked pissed off enough when he left here and might want to do something to Holt. Although if this was about Holt and making the business fail, why not attack the ovens and equipment? The stuff they have to have to run the bakery? I mean, losing the refrigerated cases isn’t great, but they can work around that.”
“Fair point.” Mia drilled the pilot holes. “How is that whole situation, anyway?”
“Quiet. Too quiet. When Arthur showed up here, I was terrified. He made threats, and I was so scared and so sure he was really going to cause problems that I actually agreed to Holt’s lunatic plan of getting married. But other than one attempt to open a credit account in my name—which I can’t actually prove was him. I only suspect because of the timing—he hasn’t done anything. It’s been nearly a month, and it’s making me twitchy. He's not a man who makes idle threats.”
Humming a noncommittal noise, Mia pounded in the wall anchors before turning to face her. “This is not really my business, but I’m gonna ask anyway. Feel free not to answer.”
Cayla tensed, wondering where she was going with this. “Okay.”
“Are you regretting marrying Holt?”
She relaxed again. “No. He’s wonderful. He’s great with Maddie, great with me. He feels like a frickin’ unicorn. This perfect guy who’s suddenly in my life.”
“And your bed?”