Ellen Hartman - Out of Bounds

“You peeping that golden retriever next door?” Angel didn’t move. “Don’t bother. He told me he only likes smooth-coated chicks. Your curls are a turnoff.”

The dog didn’t take her eyes off her.

“You’ve met this Mitch guy? Is he the real deal?”

Angel flopped on the floor, her head resting on crossed front paws. She lifted the corner of her top lip in what might have been a yawn, but was more likely a growl.

Posy sat in one of the black wooden chairs at the kitchen island. She turned on her iPad and looked up Mitch’s Train Yard. The ex-surgeon looked friendly and normal in his photo. She’d waited her entire life for her mom to turn her laser focus and need for love on someone else. Knowing she had a boyfriend explained the relatively few phone calls and texts she’d been getting recently.

She just hoped he was on the up-and-up.

Before she continued her research, Posy called her cousin Maddy.

“The Knoll Retreat and Healing Center. This is Sister Maddy.”

“Maddy, it’s Posy.”

“What’s up? I thought you were on your pilgrimage to Trish’s house.” Maddy’s voice was warm and rich, hinting at the singing talent that had sent her to college for musical theater before she switched gears her senior year and pursued a position in the Daughters of Respite religious order. “How are you?”

“I’m at my mom’s. I guess I’m going to be here for a couple days, helping out. She’s closing Wonders. And selling her house. She met a new guy.”

“When did this happen? Didn’t I talk to you yesterday?”

“It was fast. Did you know about the fundraiser she hosted last month?”

“Someone forwarded the link. I think the retreat center sent a donation.”

As she talked, Posy looked up Chloe Chastain’s It’s a Mad, Mad Mommy blog.

“I’m looking at Chloe Chastain’s blog post about it right now. You wouldn’t believe how many comments and link backs there are.”

“Let me open it up,” Maddy said, and Posy listened as her cousin hit some keys. “Whoa. She looks good in that picture.”

Mixed in with the fundraising posts were Chloe’s regular stock-in-trade photos of her adorable daughters doing adorable things, accompanied by entries written by Chloe, who looked fairly adorable herself at the ripe old age of twenty-six.

“Chloe Chastain always looks good. Bed head is probably afraid of her.”

“It figures she’d have a blog about making life perfect. Remember when we were little and she was constantly making us do pretend weddings?” Maddy said. “You’d get so incensed because she made you be the groom.”

“I would have been happy being the priest. She just liked to make me mad.”

Maddy laughed. “It wasn’t as if she had to try very hard. Two people as competitive as you guys are—the conflict was inevitable.”

Except for her divorce, it sounded as if Chloe Chastain’s life had continued along the small-town-princess line it had been on when they were kids. Trish’s most common cause for complaint was that Posy wasn’t more like Chloe. There’d been a time when Posy would have sold her soul to be like her neighbor. In Posy’s worst memories, Chloe was always there, petite, poised, smart, graceful and so unrelentingly judgmental. Posy never felt more out of step than she did around Chloe.

“Look at the list of people who donated. Most of them aren’t even from here,” Maddy said. “This is huge.”

“My mom stole the money.” Posy was whispering even though no one else was around.

There was silence over the line.

Quickly, Posy went on, explaining how her mom had gotten into trouble. “Now this guy from the foundation is coming and I have to hold him off until my mom gets a loan from my aunt.”

“Oh. My. Goodness.”

“I hope the sisters don’t have your phone bugged.”

“Posy,” her cousin admonished. “Even if the sisters did listen in, they don’t have anything to do with punishing people for their sins. We have God for that.”

“Thank you, Maddy. You’re so kind. I can see why you went into the convent.”

“Does Chloe know?”

“No!”

“Because she won’t blink at the opportunity to bring your mom down. Imagine the traffic she’d get to her blog with that story? Especially if she can make herself look good in the process. Your mom will be crucified.”

Posy didn’t answer. What could she say?

“Sorry,” Maddy said. “That wasn’t helpful.”

“You haven’t met the guy from the Fallon Foundation when he’s been in town, have you?”

“Deacon? He seems very nice.”

“His brother, Wes.”

“I haven’t met that one.” She heard Maddy’s keyboard. “Let’s see what Google says.”

Posy knew enough about the world to know that if you were working for a foundation and you had the same last name as the guy who’d endowed it, you were probably privileged.

She typed his name in, too. Wes. Who named their kid Wes? People who wanted their kid to get beaten up in elementary school, that was who. His parents had made a bad call on that one.

Maddy’s keyboard fell silent and Posy stared at her own screen. Her cousin whistled.

“Your mom stole money from a really good-looking guy.”

There were hundreds of pictures of Wes Fallon, alone. The one that made her look twice was from some kind of formal event and showed a clear shot of his face.

The woman with him was wearing a dress slit up past where her underwear should have started. Her hair was tousled so one thick wave fell over her eye. She was undeniably sexy...and trying really, really hard. Wes had his arm around her waist and he was smiling down at her as if he knew she was being foolish, but he was having too much fun to care. Just a ridiculously handsome guy enjoying himself.

She’d always been a sucker for people who knew how to fit in and have fun.

“Call me tomorrow after you meet him, okay?” Maddy said. “And let me know if I can help.”

Posy hung up, browsed a few more pages of Wes Fallon pictures and then closed the tab. Now that she’d thoroughly depressed herself, she opened her email to send a message to Wyatt, her boss, that she needed to take some time off. An emergency. She rarely used her vacation, so she knew it wouldn’t be a problem. She’d call in tomorrow and talk to him just to be sure.

Four days tops. That was how long they’d estimated it might take for Trish to get to the city, get her aunt’s bank to set up a wire transfer and see the money cleared into her account.

If Posy could keep Wes Fallon and Chloe Chastain in the dark about the crime for four days at the most, her mom would be home free. And then maybe if she got rid of all this stuff and set her mom up with the model-train enthusiast, she could finally put down her load of guilt. The one she’d been carrying ever since the family court judge made the final custody arrangements by looking Posy in the eye and saying, “Pick.”

* * *

W HEN SHE GOT downstairs the next morning, she found a note written on thick white stationery with a red-and-green border and the Wonders logo at the top. Her mom had decided to strike out early for the city to get the money as soon as possible. Posy would meet the man from the foundation at one o’clock. Trish would be in touch as soon as she’d spoken with her aunt.

Posy didn’t like this. She and Trish had planned to have breakfast at the Lemon Drop together this morning. Her mom loved to be seen out with her daughter. Why would she skip that and why would she leave a note instead of waking Posy?

She called her mom’s cell, but it went straight to voice mail.

She glanced at the note again.

There was a P.S. on the back. Angel’s lamb and rice–formula dog food was in a plastic container in the pantry. The best-before date was coming up and Angel had a delicate stomach. If Posy needed to restock, she should be sure to buy the premium food.