Take the Trophy and Run Read online

And Stan thought Gnorman should just be a gnome, holding a trophy in Becky’s garden. “You go have a good time with Crystal. I’ll call Amber and see if she can give me a ride.” Maybe once he was home she’d wait while he had a quick shower, and they could go out for supper. Where he’d let her have the crust with all the butter she wanted. And hopefully she would wear her favorite purple sneakers, because this time, before they got back in the car, they were making a trip around the block.

  Amber dumped the water out of the spaghetti, set it back on the stove, then nearly jumped out of her skin when Stan appeared beside her.

  “What are you doing here?” she gasped as she pressed her hand over her pounding heart.

  “I live here. What are you doing?”

  She glanced at the clock on Stan’s stove, then back to Stan. For someone who could shower and get dressed in the amount of time it took her to boil a pot of noodles, he looked good. He’d picked a nice pair of dark jeans and a button-down shirt instead of his usual casual evening attire of sweat pants and his favorite holey T-shirt. Not only was he clean and well dressed, but he smelled good too, like some kind of woodsy soap and shampoo.

  “I made supper. I can’t believe you’re down here already. Did you even get wet?” Yet, as the words came out of her mouth, she knew he had. She’d heard the water running, and all traces of grease were gone from his skin and hair. If it wasn’t her imagination, he’d also shaved.

  He looked good enough to be in a magazine, or on the cover of one of the romance novels she liked to read.

  Instead of fantasizing about Stan smiling from the cover of a book, she stirred the sauce and turned off the heat. “Everything is done. How did you get ready so fast?”

  “I don’t know why you say that. I also don’t know why it takes women so long to shower and get dressed.”

  Amber spun around so fast that her hair flew into her eyes. “How do you know how long it takes a woman to shower?” She stood, pointing at him with the spoon, not caring that a drop of red sauce landed on her sock while she waited to hear who it was that had showered at his house. She just might have to claw the woman’s eyes out.

  His eyes widened. “I don’t know. Movies, I guess. I also remember my mother tying up the bathroom. When I was in college I had to get up extra early to shower before her or there was no time, and no hot water.”

  She felt herself sag. Kathy was safe.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He blinked, then walked to the cupboard, took out a couple of plates, and returned to stand beside her.

  “Nothing,” Amber mumbled as she piled a couple of helpings of pasta onto the plates Stan held over the stove.

  The concept of Stan being so familiar with a woman that she would use his shower nearly made her heart stop. She didn’t like to think of Stan that way, but he was quite a handsome man, and he was out there in the dating universe.

  Some women might not have thought that a mechanic was a very glorious profession, but no one knew Stan like she did. He was smart, funny, and a good businessman, even though he wore streaked blue coveralls instead of a three-piece suit. He ran his business at a reasonable profit, but with compassion when he knew someone was faced with a costly repair. He set his standards high, and his customers and his employees all respected him.

  He also had his standards for dating set high, waiting for the right woman whom God would one day put in his path.

  They never talked specifically about such things when they were together, but the topic of what happened behind closed doors had come up at the single adults group at church. While it had been an embarrassing conversation for the group, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Stan was saving himself for marriage, as was she. Of course, neither of them ever having a longtime serious relationship made it so much easier to stay away from temptation. As for her, she’d never even been inside a man’s house without a group, except for Stan’s, because that didn’t count.

  He continued to hold out the plates. “I told you we could go out and it would be my treat,” he muttered while she spooned the sauce on top of the noodles. “You didn’t have to cook.”

  “Look at the time. Even though you were fast in the shower, if we went out we’d only be leaving now. Instead, we’re ready to eat.”

  He grumbled something she couldn’t hear as he set the plates on the table, then folded his hands on the table and waited.

  Amber also folded her hands, but she wasn’t ready to bow her head. “Excuse me? I didn’t hear what you said.”

  “I said if we went out we would have had something better than plain old spaghetti.”

  “Spaghetti is good. It’s also fast, easy, and inexpensive. Besides, it’s not the weekend.”

  “Hayden is taking Crystal out tonight. It’s okay to go out for dinner on a weekday. Everybody’s got to eat.”

  She looked down at her spaghetti, trying to imagine Hayden and Crystal together, but she couldn’t. Stranger things had happened. “Good for them, I hope it works. What about us? Are we going to eat?”

  His cheeks reddened, which she thought adorable, despite his crabby mood. She’d always thought it was cute that Stan was one of a few men she knew who blushed.

  “Sorry.” He cleared his throat and made a short prayer of thanks for their food, but instead of starting to eat, he played with his spaghetti, pushing it around on his plate.

  “You look like something’s bothering you, and I doubt it’s about your friend and your cousin.”

  He was silent for a few seconds before putting the fork down. “I heard that the Gazette is having a contest about Gnorman and what kind of costume he’ll have on the next time he turns up. That makes me think someone at the newspaper might be behind this.”

  Amber’s fork froze an inch from her mouth. “Are you kidding me? Don’t you think it’s a little farfetched that Randy, Bailey, or Jayne would do such a thing?” Although a publicity stunt or conspiracy made to increase circulation was certainly better than the alternative that had been rolling around in her head.

  “Think about it. If the contest boosts sales, that will also get more advertising revenue, which is where the big money is.”

  Amber lowered her fork. “While entertaining, I don’t think it’s likely. Although we do know that whoever is doing this at least takes the newspaper.”

  “That’s no help at all. That’s pretty much the entire population of Bloomfield. Like you said, it’s probably someone in the garden club.”

  She didn’t want to think that, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t know what she’d done to make someone want to get her kicked out in disgrace, yet it was happening. Only no one knew she would lose more than just her membership.

  She raised her head to make eye contact as she spoke. “I know we’re starting to get desperate for a real clue, but I don’t think it could be any of them. I don’t think anyone else who works at the Gazette is in the garden club, so that’s a dead lead.”

  “The other day you made a comment about someone wanting you out of the garden club and it’s really bothering me. Why do you think someone would do that to you?”

  “Because I can’t even grow vegetables, never mind flowers. I don’t belong in the garden club.”

  “You’ve got a nice enough garden that meets minimum standards, and everyone likes you.”

  “No, there’s someone who very obviously doesn’t like me.”

  He sighed. “I don’t think that—”

  The ringing phone interrupted Stan’s words. He shifted in his chair, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, greeted the caller, and turned to Amber. “Yes, she’s here.”

  Amber froze as she watched Stan nodding while the other person talked. “We’ll be right there.” He flipped the phone shut, returned it to his pocket, and stood. “That was Tucker. Tonight he’s on dut
y instead of Bubba.” Stan grinned. “I’m on his speed-dial in case something goes wrong with the police car. Anyway, he was doing his rounds and he says there’s an envelope stuck in the door of your store. If we get it now instead of morning, maybe if we get to where it says Gnorman is going to be, and if they’re still there, we’ll catch them in the act.”

  That was a lot of “ifs” but it didn’t matter. Amber stood so fast she nearly knocked her plate off the table. “Let’s go. And this time, I’m driving.”

  Chapter Eight

  But this note doesn’t say where he will be. It just says what kind of costume they’ve put him in.” Amber held up the note so Stan could read it over her shoulder. “This isn’t any help.”

  There’s something funny going down.

  It might be that gnorman’s a clown.

  When the day is done, he’ll make a pun

  And everyone else will have lots of fun.

  Stan groaned. “Does someone think they’re being funny? Is this a hint that we’re just a couple of Bozos?”

  Amber lowered the note and turned to him. “Are you kidding?”

  His blank expression told her that he wasn’t.

  Amber glanced down the block, as if Gnorman would just be there, waiting to be discovered. “Did Tucker have a time frame? Did he say how long it was from the last time he looked at my store door to the time he found the note?”

  “No. I think he’d just started his rounds. That means it could be anytime from when you closed and left to when he phoned.”

  Which really wasn’t long. She’d driven to Stan’s shop, picked him up and gone to his house, made a pot of spaghetti, and they’d barely sat down to start eating. It hadn’t been even an hour.

  She looked up at the sky. It wasn’t dark yet, so likely whoever had slipped the note there hadn’t yet put Gnorman in his designated location for the night.

  “What’s the matter? Are you locked out of your store?”

  Amber spun around.

  Libby stood at the edge of the sidewalk, holding the bright red leash that secured her little dog. Amber smiled. No matter how rotten she felt, seeing Libby’s cute little miniature schnauzer always cheered her up.

  “No, I just needed to stop by.” As she spoke, she ran her finger along the paper in her hand. Libby was always good at solving problems, making her wonder if she should tell Libby about the new note. For a second she considered Tobie. Schnauzers, even little ones, were known for their noses, possibly little Tobie could help sniff out Gnorman’s current location.

  She hunkered down to pet Tobie, and without Libby seeing, put the note under the dog’s nose so he could sniff it.

  Above her, Libby smiled. “Tobie and I were just at the dog park and we’re on our way home for supper. We’re a little late today. I was busy making my cinnamon pecan coffee cake, but you know Tobie. He just had to have his daily constitution, and I needed my walk for the day too.”

  At the word constitution, Tobie’s stubby little tail started to wag. He ignored the paper and turned around to look back toward the dog park.

  Amber stood. “I should let you go. Have a nice evening.”

  Instead of leaving, Libby rested one hand on Amber’s arm. “I know you’ve been stressing about the escapades of your little gnome. Can I give you some of the cinnamon pecan coffee cake I just made? It’s still warm. You know I don’t eat the sweets myself, but I like to have something on hand for guests.”

  Amber opened her mouth to decline Libby’s kind offer, but beside her, Stan’s eyes lit up.

  “Cinnamon pecan coffee cake?” She could almost see his mouth watering. “Really?”

  Amber forced herself to smile. “That would be wonderful. We’d love to have some of your yummy cake.”

  “Then come with me.” Libby waved for them to follow her, but Stan touched Libby’s shoulder, stopping her before she started walking home.

  “We’ve got Amber’s car. I know you’re getting some exercise for you and Tobie right now, but how about if we give you a ride the rest of the way.”

  Libby waved one hand in the air. “Nonsense. You two can take the car to my house, and I’ll walk Tobie the rest of the way home.” Before Stan could protest, Libby resumed her walk.

  Amber couldn’t help but grin. “I guess that’s decided. Let’s get in the car and go. It’s not far, she’ll only be ten minutes behind us.”

  Guilt washed over Stan’s face. “I feel like I’m being rude. We can’t let her walk while we take the car.”

  “We’re not being rude. She’s out walking her dog, and she’s now walking half a block ahead of us. If you want to walk with her, go ahead. I’ll meet you there.”

  Stan glanced back and forth between Libby and the car, shrugged his shoulders, gave Amber a quick wave, and jogged off to join Libby.

  Good ol’ Stan.

  Amber got back in her car and drove the few blocks to Libby’s house, making sure to wave as she passed Stan and Libby, chatting as they headed to Libby’s house.

  Walking down the path to Libby’s house, Amber sighed as a case of the warm fuzzies enveloped her. She adored Libby’s house. The stately but homey two-story red brick house had two immaculate white columns in front for the porch. In large beds surrounding the porch, colorful azaleas bloomed. Two huge old oak trees in the front yard shaded the front of the house when the sun was up, keeping it cool until later in the day.

  Of course the best garden was in the back. That was where Libby kept her roses and all the other summer blooming flowers, behind the house, out of the hot midday sun. Like the Lake Bliss Retirement Village, Libby also had a fountain in the middle of her garden. It was an ongoing but fun argument for the community to say which fountain had come first.

  Since this year Becky had won the now-missing trophy, Amber hadn’t seen Libby’s early garden. Libby was never shy about showing off her prize roses, just like most of the people who were on the operating board for the garden club. Amber didn’t think Libby would mind if she went into the backyard to see what Libby had planted this year.

  The clever secret latch for the gate wasn’t really so secret, and she pulled the right board to gain access. The large fence provided not only security for Libby’s little dog, but Libby valued her privacy. Amber only went in because Libby had invited her. The yard, including the magnificent garden, was Libby’s haven.

  Sure enough, Libby’s spring garden was awash with color. Before checking out the flowers, Amber stood still, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply, wanting what she could never have—to enjoy the beautiful fragrance of all the gorgeous blooms in her own backyard, just like this.

  After a few deep breaths she opened her eyes and turned to the corner where Libby grew her favorite roses, a brilliant yellow blossom, rare, and difficult to grow. Amber couldn’t remember the genus except that it was a number. It was an ongoing joke at the garden club that the year Libby turned the age of her favorite rose’s name, there was going to be one very big party.

  Strangely, if she had to guess Libby’s age, she would have said that Libby was older than Kathy, and that party still hadn’t happened.

  She turned and made her way to the corner when a small outcropping of a hideous combination of clashing colors stopped her in her tracks.

  The click of Libby’s gate echoed, followed by a symphony of yipping.

  “Amber? Where are you? Tobie led us to the back, so we knew you were here. I can make some tea and we can . . .” Libby’s voice trailed off. “Oh! How did your little gnome get here?”

  Stan cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say. He’s kinda . . .” Words failed him.

  “Ugly?” Amber replied with more of a question than an answer, but they obviously shared the same opinion.

  Libby dropped Tobie’s leash and plunked her fists on her hips
. “You have to get him out of here. He clashes with my Forty-Niners. He’s absolutely garish.” Libby’s face skewed with clear distaste at the gaudy mismatch of Gnorman’s bright clown costume with the blended milder tones of her valued roses.

  Tobie, however, had no hesitation. He walked up to Gnorman, sniffed him, shuffled into the right angle, and raised one hind leg.

  “No!” Amber screeched, and she ran to the dog. She scooped Tobie into her arms and backed up a few steps without putting him down.

  Libby’s cheeks turned as pink as the flowers beside the house that Stan couldn’t remember the name and pulled her dog out of Amber’s arms. “I’m so sorry. He’s a feisty little fellow, as you know. Your Gnorman doesn’t belong here, so Tobie needs to show Gnorman who’s boss.”

  Stan bit his lower lip. That wasn’t the way Stan showed his employees at the shop who was the boss. He merely signed their paychecks.

  While Amber stood there gaping, Stan went to the gnome and pulled yet another note out of his hand. Just like the others, it was constructed from words cut out of the Gazette.

  For now, gnorman is not on the run

  He is stopping to have some fun

  So do not be a party pooper.

  Bring out the balloons, it will be just super!

  Libby tapped one finger to her chin. “This poem has kind of a lilt to it, don’t you think?”

  “Never mind the prose. What is this note trying to say?” Stan clenched his jaw. “I’ve always hated clowns. Now I hate them even more.” He turned to Amber, still staring at Gnorman’s brassy outfit. “Have you ever enjoyed a clown?”

  Amber shook her head. “I’ve never liked slapstick. I can’t see anything funny about people falling or doing things that would normally hurt.”

  Libby absently patted Tobie while she spoke. “Amber, dear, clowns can be funny with their outlandish shoes, tooting horns, colorful costumes, and painted faces.” She then frowned at Gnorman. “Except for that one. He certainly isn’t funny, at least not in my garden.”