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“Come on back,” her best friend sang. “The cakes are almost done.”
Tiff and Beau followed Jane to the compact kitchen, which Fiona had remodeled before moving in, adding new stainless steel appliances and a farmhouse sink. The cabinets she’d painted a cheery buttercup.
The widow hurried past her to reach Fiona first and claim a hug, clinging to the other woman as if she were a lifeline. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“I’m glad to see you, too, hon,” Fiona replied, patting her.
Understanding and compassion consumed Jane. Was Tiffany lonely? The socialite had lost her husband, her fiancé, and then her friends. Maybe, just maybe, Jane could be part of the healing process. A support rather than a hindrance to healing. Give the widow a chance to grow in light rather than wither in darkness. Maybe, if they let themselves, they could be blessed in the familial love department.
Her cell phone dinged, snagging her attention. She checked the screen.
Agent Spice: Sweetheart, this is one of the most difficult messages I’ve ever sent, but I have to miss pancake night. I will, however, pick you up from Fiona’s as soon as I’m free. To make amends, I’ll come bearing fresh information about the case…
Shivers cascaded over her. A smile blooming, Jane shot him a reply:
Perhaps I’ll share what I learned, too. But only after I get a kiss hello. And many compliments about my new haircut.
Agent Spice: Are you even more adorable?
She opted to accept his compliment and tease him.
Jane: Probably! If such a thing is even possible.
Agent Spice: It is. I’ve watched you do it every day that I’ve known you.
Her smile returned, only bigger, and she hugged her cell to her chest. This man just got her.
She wanted this case solved quickly, so they could march into their future. Conrad, becoming sheriff. Jane, his forever girlfriend, who discovered what life had in store for her.
All right. No more mushy stuff. She turned her thoughts to the case. Specifically what she’d learned from Madeline Gunn. Tom Bennett might be the Gentleman, who was possibly staying with a former lover rather than a current one. Jane’s reason for thinking so was simple. The guy relied on blackmail to get what he wanted, not affection, hard work, and trust. He’d go where he felt safest: the person with the most to lose if their affair were discovered.
Was that Jessica Thacker? The fury she’d displayed could only spring from fear.
“Where’s Conrad?” Fiona asked as she and Tiffany finally parted.
“He can’t make it, so it’s just gonna be us and the sheriff,” Jane said, going over to get her hug from Fiona.
The older woman turned pensive. “Our men gotta be working on something big, because Raymond can’t make it, either.”
Well. “That is the price we pay for dating such dedicated smokeshows.”
“That it is.” Dark eyes sparkling, Fiona chucked her under the chin and waved her to the table. “Show the others to the dining room. The hot cakes are ready to serve.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jane led the way to a spacious dining room that displayed a vintage sideboard, AKA Fiona’s most cherished heirloom. Their little trio sank onto the enchantingly mismatched chairs that surrounded a large, rustic farmhouse table.
Delicate china, freshly polished silverware, and linens molded into swans decorated each place setting. Fiona didn’t believe in leaving the good stuff for special occasions. Fine dinnerware was meant to be used. She entered with a heaping platter of food, set it on the table, and sank into the spot at the head. Everyone dug in. Jane savored every bite as her taste buds exploded with flavor.
“Oh my gosh,” Tiffany exclaimed. She wiped syrup from her chin. “This is amazing!” She shoveled in another bite, then another, until little beads of maple dripped from the corners of her mouth. “I want these every day for the rest of forever!”
“Ladling blood is definitely flowing through your veins,” Beau said, his amusement clear. “In grade school, Jane waxed poetic about these pancakes at almost every lunch.”
Fiona nodded in understanding. “I believe it. Not a day has gone by without a request for pancakes. Even if she only asks with her eyes.”
“Because these pancakes are a gift from above, and everyone everywhere should agree, no matter their bloodline,” Jane exclaimed.
Tiffany was too busy eating to offer her agreement.
“Do you know how to knit, Tiffany?” Fiona asked out of the blue.
The widow shook her head, saying, “No,” with a mouthful of pancake. “Never tried it.” In went another bite.
“Well, no worries. We’ll teach you. Won’t we Jane?”
“Sure,” she said, the word muffled since she, too, had a mouthful of pancake.
Her friends shared a good laugh. But Fiona sobered all too soon, telling them, “Some women at the senior center were discussing a dangerous street thug, the Gentleman. Pepper heard from Martha, who heard from her daughters, Athena and Amelia, who heard from their cousin Zoey that a gal named Noel heard he was dangerous.””
