Page 14 of Recipe for Rivals

I’d be annoyed with her, but she wasn’t wrong.

When we made it to our cars, all parked on Main Street, I waved at them and climbed in my truck before Gracie Mae could finagle anything more out of me. I had let that woman down so many times—gently and bluntly. I was shocked she kept trying. The direct way hadn’t gotten me anywhere, so lately I’d settled for whatever I could think of. Last time she asked me to go see a movie with her, I told her no because I had to go home and feed my cat. It wasn’t a lie, but it was also a thin excuse.

I hadn’t foreseen the way she would try to get me to invite her to my house instead.

This time, however, I had a valid reason to be on my way. I pulled my truck onto the road and started toward Beeler, the next town over, and the closest assisted living facilities we had. Grandpa had raised me. When his mental state had reached a point where he needed round-the-clock supervision, I’d had no choice but to put him in Pleasant Gardens Assisted Living. I tried to visit as often as my schedule permitted. One of the things I appreciated about our 48-hours on, 96-hours off schedule was having four solid days of no work so I could see him every day. Those two days I couldn’t get away from the station were tough. I tried to call in sometimes, but he didn’t understand where he was half the time, and not seeing me in person only made Grandpa more confused.

My parents had met and had me in their mid-twenties, but neither of them were fit to care for themselves, let alone a baby. We made it until my fourth birthday before Grandpa stepped inand offered to take me, which had been a blessing all around. My parents, no longer tied to a child, took off for a compound they’d heard great things about in North Carolina. We didn’t see them again for almost a decade. By then, I knew enough to understand I was better off in Grandpa’s clean house with running water than going off to live in a tent with two addicts.

That didn’t make it hurt less, especially when I was fourteen and they took off with my ceramic Darth Vader bank holding my entire savings. It had been a good chunk of money. I’d been squirreling cash away doing odd jobs around town the summer before ninth grade, and right before school started, it was gone.

I almost didn’t make the football team that year, and not because Grandpa had a hard time affording the fees. I’d been angry at being abandoned and stolen from, and I took it out on the school equipment with spray paint and a far more rebellious attitude than my grandpa allowed. It didn’t help that I’d been in and out of the principal’s office for fighting, either. It was the last straw, so the school wanted me expelled or, at the least, suspended and kicked off the team.

Henry Gable had stepped in. To this day, I had no idea what he said to change anyone’s mind. He vouched for me, and I worked that entire football season as his assistant to make up for some of the damage. I owed him a lot.

Running a hand through my hair, I pulled into the Pleasant Gardens parking lot and found a spot. Grandpa would be finishing his morning walk now, if his schedule could be relied on. I signed in and let myself out back to find him, waving at Patty, Brody’s grandma, as I passed her in the hallway.

There Grandpa was, sitting on a wooden bench and checking his watch. When he looked up and saw me, he grinned. Lines wrinkled his face, but the twinkle in his blue eyes was familiar. He was fairly lucid today. “Ready, Dusty boy? I got us a brand-new puzzle. You’re going to love it.”

I helped him stand. “You know it. What’s the picture?”

“Can’t tell you.” He pushed his walker as we made our way inside and toward the rec room at the end of the hall. A round table was waiting for us with a black reserved sign. I’d asked for this perk and offered to pay for it, but the nurses were happy to oblige so long as the table wasn’t needed for anything else. It made it possible for us to keep our puzzles up for days at a time, until we finished and moved on to the next one. Sometimes we’d show up and a new section would be added for us, but that never bothered me.

Grandpa reached over and slid the box toward me, brandishing it with pride. It was a 1000-piece puzzle of cats lined up in western wear, complete with cowboy hats.

“This looks like a doozy,” I said, noticing the use of repeat colors. Some puzzle makers were such tricksters.

Grandpa sat down with a sigh. “We can handle it, son.”

I had to agree.

CHAPTER FIVE

NOVA

Wasit legal to strangle an ex-husband for failing to answer FaceTime calls six days in a row? Asking for a friend.

Okay, not true. I was the friend, and after watching my kids look crestfallen as their calls went unanswered day after day, I was ready for murder. Carter hadn’t answered when the kids called after their first day of school, and he hadn’t answered any evening since.

I typed that thought out in a text and sent it to Blair, my brother’s wife and one of my closest friends. She had wanted us to move in with them after the divorce, but they had two kids and a two-bedroom four-floor walkup. I wasn’t about to invade their lives like that.

I’d tried my best to keep the problems in my marriage to myself over the last few years. Gossip never helped anyone, and I wasn’t about to complain about Carter’s late nights and disinterest to my friends. Once he left me, Blair came to my aid. She saw me at my lowest, through multiple stages of grief, and never once batted an eye. She was one of my rocks.

My parents would have been there, too, had they not recently gone to the Philippines on a mission trip. TheirBrooklyn terraced house was leased out in an ironclad agreement for the duration of their trip; otherwise, I wouldn’t have needed to come to Texas to live with my dad’s sister. It was still hazily in the back of my mind that we could move home in nine months when my parents returned to New York. I needed to think harder on that later.

I finished blow-drying my hair, scraped it back into a ponytail, and swiped mascara on. I pulled on the closest clothes I could reach. Gigi didn’t enforce a dress code in the diner—except the necessary closed-toed shoes—so I kept it casual. Blue T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Basically a mom wardrobe. No shame, since I was a mom.

My phone lit up with an incoming message. I picked it up off my bathroom counter.

Blair

According to my research, it’s generally frowned upon. But I’ll be your hitman. Just give me a time and a place and there will be blood

Nova

Maybe you’ve been watching too many true crime documentaries? That got dark fast

Blair