Page 102 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Fifty-Six

“Okay, Catfish, I’m going to have to have that recipe, girlfriend.” Groaning, Molly lumbered up from Cat’s and Chase’s dining-room table, so very grateful her cast was gone and she’d been able to return to normal.

Well, almost.

Her physical injuries from the attack on the cliff were gone, of course, but she suspected the emotional ones needed a little more time and healing. In addition to a whole lot of prayer! But then, she had that in spades, she surmised as she offered a smile around the table, with the prayers of Miss Lilly, Cat and Chase, Sloan and finally—her gaze lingered on Brec with a surge of her pulse—with Striker Man. A man for whom she could never again use the nickname of Strike-Out Boy.

Expelling a contented sigh, she pushed her chair in with a wry smile. “And then again, maybe not,” she said with a pat of her stomach, thinking she’d enjoyed this annual holiday dinner a little too much.

“Trust me, Princess, you don’t need the recipe.” Brec rose and pushed in his chair while everyone followed suit, retiring to the living room for coffee. Fingers tweaking her neck, he ushered her to the loveseat with a lazy smile. “You don’t cook anymore, remember?”

“Hey, that’s not true,” Molly defended, nose suddenly scrunching when she realized he was probably right. Since Brec had arrived at Emerald Cottage over seven months ago, he’d all but taken over most of the cooking. Except for Sundays, of course, when Miss Lilly insisted on making an old-fashioned Sunday dinner of dumplings or pot roast instead of the fancy fare Brec liked to whip up. “I cook sometimes.”

His mouth took a playful slant as he tugged her down on the loveseat and hooked her close, pressing a kiss to her head. “Pop Tarts and Jimmy Dean biscuits don’t count, Princess.”

“Come on, Brec,” Cat called, lounging lazily against Chase’s chest on one side of the leather sofa while Miss Lilly sat on the other. “Molly has lots of other talents.” She ticked examples off on her fingers. “She takes excellent care of Miss Lilly, she keeps a very tidy house, and she knows how to keep you in line.”

Brec pinched Molly’s waist. “Can’t argue there.”

Sloan lazed back in Chase’s favorite chair and ottoman with his trademark half smile, his affection for Molly warm in his eyes. “And she’s got keen eyes, ears, and deductive skills that will make her a great detective someday,” he said with an assurance that Molly wished she possessed. Sloan had convinced her to take a job as an evidence tech in his department, something Brec hadn’t been too crazy about. But now that the mystery of Emerald Cottage was solved and Miss Lilly no longer required a nurse, Molly needed a job.

She offered Sloan a grateful smile. “Thanks, Sloan, your encouragement means a lot.”

“Although,” he continued with a hike of his brow, gaze narrowing in jest as he shot Brec a cocky smile, “her deductive skills have certainly been off when it comes to love.”

Laughter circled the room as Brec grinned. “Well, nobody’s perfect, Detective, not even you.”

“Apparently,” Sloan said with a dry smile.

Brec stretched out against the back of the loveseat, bringing Molly along with him to settle against his chest like Cat was with Chase. “But what was perfect, Mr. and Mrs. Griffin, was your dinner tonight. I’m going to have a tough time topping that bacon-wrapped pork loin with cherries when I cook dinner for you all next week.”

“Ah, yes, one of my mother’s famous Christmas recipes.” Cat wiggled her brows. “Few people can top Tess Carmichael’s culinary skills, although from what I’ve heard from Molly, the dessert you made for us tonight will give my mom a run for her money, so you have nothing to worry about, Soccer Boy.”

“As long as he behaves himself, that is,” Miss Lilly said with a wink. She reached to pat Cat’s hand. “Tess taught you well, Catherine, because tonight was perfect, sweetheart”—her smile dimmed somewhat—“except, of course, for missing Pastor Dave.”

The moment Miss Lilly said his name, sobriety settled over the room, the subject inevitable since Sloan had arrested Pastor Dave over two weeks ago after Brec had given him his father’s confession. Everyone who knew and loved Pastor Dave had been shocked—from his Lake Loon friends to his congregation. Despite making the front page of the Savannah Morning News, each of his closest friends in this room were still waiting for Sloan to fill them in on the full story.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Molly whispered.

Sloan’s chest swelled and depleted in a cumbersome sigh. “I was worried about charges of aiding and abetting, which can carry a pretty stiff penalty. But given Pastor Dave’s stellar reputation and record in the community, the chief decided to book him on misdemeanor accessory after the fact, which is considerably lighter and the best possible scenario.”

“What’s the penalty for that, Sloan?” Brec asked, gently kneading Molly’s arm.

“Not too bad. Punishable by twelve months in jail and/or $5,000 in fines.”

Cat shimmied further into Chase’s arms, her voice tentative. “Did Pastor Dave … you know, shed any further light on everything that’s gone on over the last six months?”

Sloan nodded before glancing over at Brec. “He was one of the last pieces of the puzzle, it seems, one of the final keys in unlocking the secret of Emerald Cottage, providing some information we didn’t know. Like the fact that it wasn’t Roy who arranged for Harley to ransack Miss Lilly’s cottage, but Alan.”

“What?” Miss Lilly stared, jaw agape. “Pastor Dave knew?”

Sloan shook his head. “Not at first, Miss Lilly, but it seems Alan came to him in a confessor capacity after the fact, and confessions are sacrosanct for the clergy as we all know, so Pastor Dave felt his hands were tied.” He exhaled a quiet breath. “Seems it all started when Miss Lilly told Muriel that Cal fished a doubloon out of the lake, which as we all know now, ended up being Alan’s belt buckle. Alan was desperate to find it because he knew it might connect him to Greg’s disappearance, and he didn’t want to risk any speculation with a Supreme Court appointment pending. So he hired Harley to try and steal it, chloroforming Miss Lilly in her bedroom in order to search it. But when Miss Lilly came to and saw him, we suspect Harley panicked, chloroforming Miss Lilly a second time and dumping her in the lake so she couldn’t identify him.”

“Sweet God of mercy,” Molly whispered, blood draining from her face at how close Miss Lilly had come to death.

“Aha!” Miss Lilly pinned Molly with a laser-thin look tempered by a faint twitch of a smile. “Maybe next time you’ll listen to this old woman, girly-girl, instead of thinkin’ she’s plumb loco in the head.”

Molly expelled a quivery breath, eyes misty with love. “Count on it, Miss Lilly.”