False Impressions Page 3

  “I’d love to give you more, but there’s a captive audience at these things. Just develop the line. You know the drill. Ice crystals, snowflakes, snowmen.”

  April’s mind did begin working on ideas, despite the fact that she felt the deadline was too close. Welcome to the new Stamping Sisters. Rocky wanted to catapult the Stamping Sisters brand into the national eye. For that, April would have to step up her game.

  In the past, she’d developed one or two large stamps for a customer’s needs. Before October, she’d never designed a whole line before. Designing the California Dreamin’ line she’d made for Trish had been easy. The stamps came to her in a flood of nostalgia for the life she’d left behind. She’d sold the line to Stamping Sisters after it was complete.

  Now Rocky was asking for a new line in a week. She didn’t know if she could do it. She couldn’t plead that she had no time. Rocky knew she wasn’t working right now.

  “I’ve got no place to work,” April said. She was perilously close to whining. “You know the Campbells are at my place.”

  Rocky pointed to the empty corner. “Bring your drafting table over and set up in here. I’d love the company.”

  April hid a grimace. Working in such close proximity to Rocky would not be fun. She needed quiet and solitude. Things that were in short supply at the barn, too. She’d tried working at Mitch’s, but he was so distracting she never got anything done.

  “What are you smiling about?” Rocky snarled.

  April composed herself. Mitch’s distractions were always a lot of fun.

  “I’ll think about it.” There was no way she would be able to share a studio with Rocky. This was just another reason to find a place of her own. If she had her own house, she could designate a room as a studio.

  “Just to be clear, I can’t work your booth at the Ice Festival. I’m going to help Mitch with his ice sculpture.”

  Rocky let out a short bark of a laugh. “Really?”

  “He’s coming over tonight. Something about a chain saw,” April said, nodding.

  Rocky looked at her sharply, smiling. “I swear that boy gets a new chain saw every other year.”

  “He said something about new controls and a lighter weight.”

  “Blah, blah, blabbity, blah. It’s all just rationalization for a new toy. He’ll try anything to do better than he did last year. He came in second. As good as last to him.”

  Rocky put her hand under her hair on her neck and lifted. The swoop across her eye, across her scar, stayed in place as though hot glued there. Rocky was a beautiful woman, but a scar that ran through her eye and onto her cheek marred her good looks, and she made sure it was hidden. April wondered when she would learn the truth behind the scar. Mitch had already made it clear he wouldn’t be the one to tell her. Rocky would tell April when she was ready, according to her brother.

  Maybe soon. Maybe I should just mind my own business, April thought.

  But . . . “Rocky, did you know Mary Lou’s brother?”

  “Which one?” Rocky’s computer dinged, and she looked at the screen.

  “She has two?”

  “Yeah. J.B. and Gregg. Gregg just moved to California.” She smiled at something and began to type.

  J.B. Joseph Bartholomew. That’s him.

  “J.B.”

  Rocky looked up at her, something in April’s voice signaling that she was interested. “He was killed last year. Why?”

  April knew better than to share Deana’s secret with Rocky. She shook her head. “Nothing. I just heard her mention brothers and I didn’t know she had any.”

  Rocky studied April. April kept her face neutral, meeting her gaze.

  April decided to stop talking before she gave away too much. Like the fact that Mary Lou had never claimed her brother’s ashes.

  “So what time is the council meeting?”

  CHAPTER 3

  April left, promising to meet Rocky at the borough hall. The afternoon sun was so weak the air temperature seemed to have dropped another twenty degrees since she’d left the funeral home. She shivered as she tried to get her key into the frozen lock, and once inside, prayed that the car would start. Last week she’d been stranded when her car had sat too long outside Perkins and wouldn’t start after lunch. That never happened in San Francisco.

  April knew dinner would be waiting for her when she got home, but a steady diet of veal chops, pierogies and meatloaf was leaving her feeling overstuffed, slow and cranky. She’d dreamt last night of a giant green salad of organic arugula with Sonoma County goat cheese and grilled Alaskan salmon. Fat chance that was on the menu tonight.

  Barring that, she’d have liked nothing better than to microwave herself a frozen diet dinner, but Charlotte wouldn’t hear of it. She’d have spent all afternoon cooking dinner, starting preparations almost as soon as the breakfast dishes were cleared.

  She stopped at the mailbox at the end of the road, pulled out the day’s offerings and then continued up the drive. Parking next to Charlotte and Grizz’s snow-covered sedan, she ran for the door, telling herself that Charlotte’s homemade bread made up for her tasteless, greasy fried chicken. She stamped her cold feet and let herself in.

  “Hi, Charlotte. Hi, Grizz.” April yelled to be heard over Fox News. Charlotte bustled over to take her coat, brushing it with her hand and hanging it in the closet. April sat down to take off her boots and lined them up on the plastic tray Charlotte had set out.

  Grizz was ensconced in the middle of the barn, his corduroy recliner looking as faded as his flannel shirt. Charlotte had tried to cover the worst of the stains with her homemade afghans, but still the chair was an affront to the discerning eye. Any eye that was open, really.

  “Dinner in fifteen minutes, dear,” Charlotte said. Grizz grunted. It was only five o’clock, but April knew he’d have eaten earlier if it weren’t for her.

  The barn used to be wide open and too big for her. Her lowly futon had sat in the space like a forgotten garage sale item. She could have ridden her bike in there when she’d first moved in. Heck, she could have parked her car in the open floor plan.

  Now every available bit of floor space was taken up with the Campbells’ stuff. A large bed sat in the far corner. Huge carved dressers, one with a fancy mirror, sat where April had had a TV and her futon. A card table with a puzzle on it was permanently set up in the dining area. Two couches and two recliners and a ten-year-old large-screen TV filled the rest of the space.

  April had been relegated to the loft.

  She seated herself at the kitchen table, her hand automatically rubbing the grain. She loved feeling the softness of the wood. The table was the one piece of furniture her father had left behind when he and Vince moved out of the barn. It wouldn’t fit in their new place. Mitch had been commissioned to make it, before she knew him. It was the first piece of his she’d ever seen, and she loved feeling the warmth of it beneath her fingers. She sorted through the day’s mail, separating hers and the Campbells’. A prettily adorned blue envelope caught her eye. The back flap had been embossed and stamped with a white crystal snowflake design.

  “Fifteenth Annual Mid-January Blast Event,” the front read. Inside were directions to Mary Lou’s house and the time and date. Sunday, in the late afternoon.

  Mary Lou had talked about this party last week at stamping. A party would be a nice break in the routine of winter. Good conversation. A warm fire. And Mary Lou probably had access to great food.

  Grizz sat down next to her. April looked up, surprised to see him in the unfamiliar spot. Was she sitting in his seat? She checked, but no. He was seated in Charlotte’s usual chair. That was disconcerting enough, but he seemed to want to talk to her directly. Unprecedented.

  His mouth worked, as if he couldn’t quite get started. April looked over his head at Charlotte. Grizz was the silent type. She knew he and Charlotte communicated, but she didn’t see it often. He seemed to use a series of hand gestures and grunts to tell her what he needed. After si
xty years of marriage, they didn’t need to say much.

  Grizz talked even less to April. He sometimes asked Charlotte what April was doing or why she was doing something but rarely seemed satisfied with the answer. She’d gotten used to his ways and didn’t take it personally. He was in his eighties after all and had had little contact with women her age. He didn’t seem to know how to behave.

  But here he was.

  “Come here,” he said gruffly. “I want to show you something.”

  Charlotte was smiling, her soft face crinkling around her eyes, her cheeks ringed with wrinkles. April looked to her for some kind of clue, but Charlotte pressed her hands in front of her lips and shook her head.

  April pushed away from the table self-consciously. Both sets of eyes were on her. When she turned to look into the barn, she saw a draped shape on the coffee table.

  Charlotte clapped her hands once in excitement. Grizz shot her a look, but she ignored it.

  “Go ahead,” he said, urging April forward. “It’s for you.”

  April looked questioningly from one to the other. Charlotte swept her hand toward the thing with a grand flourish. Grizz tapped his toe impatiently.

  April pulled off the tablecloth. Underneath was a lovely wooden lap desk. No, a drafting table. It had a slanted top. A lamp was clamped to one side. The top was made of a combination of woods, reddish cherry and oak, so that the colors were rich and deep with the hues of an old wood forest.

  “For me?” she said.

  Grizz grunted. He must have used up his quota of words.

  Charlotte couldn’t contain herself any longer. “He made it for you,” she said. She looked at Grizz with pride. “He didn’t even tell me he was working on it. He’s been out in the shed for weeks. He could only do a little at a time because it’s been so cold.”

  Grizz was watching April. She let the joy she felt show on her face so that he could see how pleased she was. Her old drafting table, her favorite possession in the world, had been dismantled when the Campbells moved in. There wasn’t enough floor space.

  “You made this?” April said. “Grizz, this is beautiful.”

  This could go up to the loft with her. She would be able to work on the bed, sitting with this on her lap. The slanted top would make it easy to draw on. No more leaning on her knees to sketch.

  “Open it,” Grizz said.

  April complied. The top was hinged and opened to reveal a series of cubbyholes inside the desk. He’d gouged out pencil holders and a place for erasers.

  “He does wonderful work, doesn’t he?” Charlotte said. She was so proud. It was cute.

  “I love it,” April said. “Thank you so much.”

  She couldn’t believe Grizz had built her this gift. He’d obviously spent a lot of time, not just on the building but the planning as well. Grizz had really thought out how she worked and figured out a way to accommodate her needs. She hadn’t thought he’d been paying any attention to her at all.

  April took two steps to Grizz, her arms extended for a hug. He frowned and looked down. Charlotte made a noise, and he lifted his head. April moved in and enveloped him quickly. He stepped back and patted her shoulder awkwardly.

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  Charlotte moved in and took April into her arms, pulling her close to her cushiony bosom. “You work so hard, and you’ve been so good to us. We’re happy to do something nice for you for a change.”

  April felt tears prick her lids. She hadn’t wanted the Campbells to move in. Now she felt selfish and silly for her complaints.

  They were really a sweet couple who were caught up in a terrible situation. It was the least she could do to help them out.

  “Dinner,” Grizz said. April laughed and went to set the table.

  After supper, she met Rocky outside the old building that housed the Aldenville borough government. The room that held the public meetings was up a flight of stairs. Hospital green paint, which looked as though it had been applied long before April was born, covered the stairwell walls and continued into the meeting space.

  Two long tables pushed together at the front of the room made a dais of sorts. Rows of chairs were set up facing the front, giving the impression that a twelve-step meeting was about to take place. There were posters tacked to the wall exalting people to “Thrive” and “Strive” and to “Drive Slow Now That School Is Back.”

  There weren’t many people in the seats, so she and Rocky sat down near the door.

  April felt the hairs prick on her neck as if someone was staring at her. Officer Henry Yost was leaning against the back wall in the corner, one foot propped up behind him. She had never seen him in civilian clothes. In a flannel shirt and thermal Henley, he looked almost normal. When she caught his eye, he was leaning over to say something to the woman next to him.

  Henry Yost had probably been telling her what a pain in the butt April was. April had stepped into two of his investigations in the last year, and rather than appreciating that justice had been done, he channeled his energies into harassing her. He liked to stop her for minor traffic infractions. Last week he had cited her for going too slow, even though she was following a piece of snow-removal equipment that was blocking the roadway.

  She nudged Rocky. “Yostie’s got himself a girlfriend?”

  Maybe if he had other interests in his life, he’d leave her alone.

  Rocky looked over. “Could be. He had a wife and kids once upon a time, but I think she ditched him.”

  April snuck another look at the woman next to Yost. She might have been pretty once, but she was too thin now. Her pronounced jaw was bracketed by ears that stuck out through hanks of wiry hair. Her hands were jammed into her pockets. She was wearing an oversize navy peacoat and pegged pants tucked into furry boots. She looked a little familiar, but since returning to Aldenville, April often saw faces she thought she knew. Younger brothers of schoolmates, former teachers grown old, and all sorts of others whose vaguely familiar appearance was probably the result of DNA that had been replicated too often in this small town.

  A woman with a laptop sat off to their right under an American flag. The county seal was painted on the wall, along with the Aldenville crest. Four council members filed in from a small room at the top of the stairs.

  One of them was Mary Lou’s husband and business partner, Peter Rosen. He straightened the legal pad in front of him and took out a pen. He nodded at someone to April’s right. She looked back and saw Yost nod in return.

  The meeting was called to order. April tuned out as the old business was dispatched. She pulled out a sketchbook and pencil from her purse. She’d had some ideas since this afternoon and began work on a border stamp of tumbling snowmen, trying out different proportions.

  A sharp noise brought her out of her trance. The council chair had pounded the gavel. The atmosphere in the room was charged, as if everyone had rubbed their feet on the carpet and built up static electricity.

  Rocky bumped April’s arm as she sat forward, leaning her elbows on her knees. Something in the proceedings had changed. Voices were raised, and someone clapped, once.

  “What’s going on?” April asked. She glanced around as if she’d just woken up. Sketching could do that to her. She looked down to see she’d filled several pages but had no recollection of time passing.

  Rocky hid her hand behind her curtain of hair and spoke into it. “It’s a dang blessed tie. Two members want to vote out the local police and two want to merge with the other townships.”

  A council member was speaking. She was a large woman who hadn’t taken off her white fur-lined cape when she sat down. She looked like an ice princess from a Russian fairy tale.

  “While we understand the beauty of having someone local policing our streets, it’s a luxury we can no longer afford. The economic strain that it puts on our budget disadvantages all the citizens.”

  Her chins sunk into the depths of her collar when she finished speaking.

  Peter Ro
sen said, “Aldenville is a safe place because of our local police force. Our youth are church-going, studious children. Drugs are not a problem.”

  “What about the meth-lab explosion last year?” someone shouted from the audience. April, looking behind her, didn’t see who said it, but she caught sight of Yost as he shifted his posture. He no longer slouched. Cop mode. He put a hand on his hip, as if going for his gun. She couldn’t tell if he was actually armed. His expression was guarded.

  “Meth-lab explosion?” April whispered.

  Rocky shifted in her chair. She ignored April’s question. “We’re never going to get our hearing if they keep going on about the police.”

  “Don’t you care?” April said. If there were bad guys making illegal drugs in the valley, perhaps getting rid of the police was not such a good idea.

  Rocky shrugged. “Not really. The state police do most of the heavy lifting. Yost and the chief do more traffic control than anything. I just want the council to quit pussyfooting around and do something.”

  She raised her voice with the last couple of words. In response, Peter’s head snapped up, and he whispered to the chair sitting next to him.

  The chair banged his gavel and said, “We are at an impasse. I’m tabling this discussion until next month when Councilman Monroe returns from the Caymans. Let’s get an update on the Ice Festival.”

  The small crowd shifted and stopped their chatter.

  “We’ve had a request from one of local businesses to sell her wares at the Ice Festival.”

  The cape woman said, “We don’t sell goods at the Ice Festival.”

  Rocky said loudly, “What about the hot chocolate booth and the chili?”

  “Run by the Girl Scouts and the Friends of the Library, respectively. Nonprofits. The money goes to help those organizations.” She looked to the chair as if asking him to move the conversation along to the next agenda item. “No for-profit businesses allowed.

  “Chuck’s Sporting Goods is always there,” Rocky contended.

  The chair said, “He gives demonstrations and hands out free samples. Do you have giveaways?”