“Yes.”
“And I guess you told her she was to keep Mr. Lang away from Merlin’s Farm today.”
“Until four.”
“You and my mother have become thick, haven’t you?”
“Whisper a few words about enzymes to her and she’s mine. What’s Luke going to think when his wreaths aren’t done?”
“It’s okay. I have two older sisters who are super achievers. They love to excel at everything.”
“What does that mean?”
“When they find out that I walked away from all those wreaths and left poor Luke in the lurch, they’ll trample over each other to show me up. I learned long ago to just look helpless and I’d get out of a lot of work.”
Mike shook his head at her. “Who in this world besides me knows what you’re really like?”
“My dad—and Tess a little bit.”
“Not your mother?”
“She thinks I’m a wimp.”
“How about the boyfriend?”
“I assume you mean Greg, my fiancé. No, he thinks I’m sweet and quiet and agree
able to his every idea.”
“Is a lie like that a good basis for a marriage?”
“Maybe you could teach me about honesty in a relationship.”
They looked at each other for a moment, then laughed together.
12
I THINK YOU SHOULD be more cautious when you snoop around Merlin’s Farm,” Sara said from beside Mike as he drove along the curving road. “I know you hide evidence that you’ve been there, but if Mr. Lang found out … Well, he’s notorious for his retaliations.”
“Such as?”
Sara was watching Mike drive. He never took his eyes off the road, and the way he sat, with both hands on the wheel, looked like he was prepared for something bad to happen. “No one can prove anything, but we know in Edilean that if you cross Mr. Lang, you get punished. It’s something we’re all told from childhood up, and I was told that his father was just like him.”
Mike glanced in all three mirrors.
“Are you expecting someone to follow us?”
“With this case, I never know what I’ll have to do.”
“I guess that includes oozing all over someone as sex-starved as Erica.”
Mike gave her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye.
“All right.” Obviously, Erica was not something he was going to discuss further. “Let’s see. Where do I begin? I’ve heard these stories all my life. When I was about twelve, a man who worked in Williamsburg moved here with his family and he prided himself on his plum jam. I remember my mother telling him that Mr. Lang would be his competition at the local fair and that he usually won.”
“Lang has to win or else?”
“Oh, no. He’s lost before, but his produce is so good that it’s rare for him not to win. But when he lost that time, he went to my mother, who was a judge, and told her the man had cheated. I remember my mother being angry and saying Mr. Lang was a sore loser, so, unfortunately, she didn’t investigate the matter.”