Where There's Smoke

She nodded forlornly.

“That morning in Virginia, my brother was in bed with Porter, not you. You caught them.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. She rubbed them off with her fist. “Yes.”

“Jesus,” he swore, bearing his teeth. “Ah, Jesus.” He propped his elbow on his raised knee and shoved his fingers through his hair, cupping his forehead in his palm. He held that anguished posture for ponderous moments.

Eventually he lowered his hand and looked down at his mother. “Clark confessed to you, didn’t he?”

“When he gave…”

“When he bought this place for Lara,” Key prompted. Jody nodded imperceptibly. Her eyes were swimming in tears. “You demanded to know why he’d do such a crazy thing for the woman who’d ruined his career. He broke down and told you the truth. You denounced him, probably disowned him. So he killed himself.”

A terrible sound issued from Jody’s chest.

“Key, don’t do this to her,” Lara whispered.

But it wasn’t his intention to torment her. He slipped his arms beneath Jody and lifted her against his chest. She looked small and helpless in his brawny embrace, this woman who, using brains instead of beauty, had bagged the notorious playboy of Eden Pass, had driven Fergus Winston to commit a criminal act to exact revenge, and had for decades instilled in her employees a fearful respect and in an entire town fierce loyalty.

Key wiped the saliva off her chin with his thumb, then rested his cheek on the top of her head. “It’s all right, Mother. Clark died knowing you loved him. He knew.”

“Key.” She spoke his name, not reproachfully, but penitently. She managed to lift her hand and place it on his arm. “Key.”

He squeezed his eyes so tightly shut, tears were wrung from them. When the ambulance arrived, he was still cradling her in his arms, cooing to her like a baby, rocking her gently.

But by then Jody Tackett was dead.

“Thank you, Mr. Hoskins.” Ollie had personally carried her groceries out to her car and stowed them in the trunk.

“You’re welcome, Dr. Mallory.”

“How is Mrs. Hoskins?”

He pulled a handkerchief from his hip pocket and unabashedly dabbed at his eyes. “Not much good. She sits in Tanner’s room a lot. Dusts it. Runs the vacuum over the rug so much, she’s worn down the pile. Doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep.”

“Why don’t you bring her to see me? I could prescribe a mild sedative.”

“Thanks, Dr. Mallory, but her problem isn’t physical.”

“Grief can be physically debilitating. I know. Encourage her to come see me.”

He nodded, thanked her again, and returned to his duties inside the Sak’n’Save. This was one of the supermarket’s busiest days of the year, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Texas Street was jammed.

A crew of volunteers was hanging Christmas decorations, stretching strings of multicolored lights across the street and mounting a Santa wearing a cowboy hat and boots on the roof of the bank building. Passersby offered unsolicited advice.

Despite the recent catastrophe, life went on in Eden Pass.

Lara was about to back her car out of the metered parking slot when Key’s Lincoln loomed up directly behind her and blocked her exit. He got out and moved between her car and the pickup truck parked next to her.

Noisy honking and a shout drew his attention back to the street. “Hey, Tackett, you gonna move this piece of yellow shit, or what? It’s blocking the whole damn street.”

Key called back, “Go around it, you ugly son of a bitch.” Wearing a good-natured smile, he flicked his middle finger at his friend, Possum. He was still laughing when he reached the driver’s door of Lara’s car. He knocked on the window and peeled off his aviator sunglasses. “Hey, Doc, how’ve you been?”

They hadn’t been alone together since the day Jody died. If he could be cavalier, so could she, although her heart was racing. “I thought you’d gone to Alaska.”

“Next week. I promised Janellen I’d stick around till after Thanksgiving. She and Bowie will be celebrating their first one together. It’s important to her that I be here to carve the turkey.”

“She brought him to meet me.”