Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tallula

I 'm not entirely sure what to make of what Jesse told me. Little pricks of guilt sting me like salt in a wound at sharing my secret speculation about my grandfather.

It was bad enough when Peter betrayed me, but am I doing the same to my family? Moink wiggles in my arms and streaks toward Jesse.

He turns on several floodlights, illuminating the backyard with numerous holes in random places.

"Moink, be careful. You could fall into one of those pits scattered around the yard. Do you have a gopher problem or is someone trying to bury a body or?—?"

"Trying to find something is more like it. But it wasn't me and those weren't here the other day." Jesse's eyebrows bunch together, and then he squats, examining one hole and then another.

"First the Bling Ring, then Peter, and now this? Turns out Hogwash is a sketchy town. "

Slowly shaking his head, Jesse says, "When my father was hauled off to jail, he told me, ‘Fido buried it in the backyard.'"

"Frodo? Mrs. Halfpenny's dog? Did you have a dog?"

"No, never. Dad said it was just another mouth to feed. He'd been drinking when he was arrested, so I chalked it up to him losing touch with reality, you know?"

"Did you ask your dad what he meant?"

"Not before he died." Jesse rubs his hand against his chest as if the loss is still a sore spot.

"Does anyone else know about Fido?" I ask in a soothing tone.

"My cousin." Jesse sits down on an overturned bucket. "I think he's been trying to tell me something. He was always a loose cannon, but after the accident, he was never quite the same. Also didn't quit drinking. But he'd obsess over things—Big Foot, the crocogator, and other legends."

I shrink back, worried that Jesse isn't handling this well.

Looking up at me with a plaintive expression, he says, "Sawyer is the Bling Ring. I think he's been looking for the money and your grandmother's ring—stealing all that glittery stuff was a way for him to cross items off his list. I know that doesn't make much sense, but you'd have to know Sawyer. When he was in a band and we wanted to learn a song, he'd learn ten others before the cover we wanted to play. He said it was a way to sort through what he wasn't after to get to what he was."

"So, he's been stealing shiny things as a way to narrow down possibilities to find my grandmother's engagement ring?"

With a long sigh, Jesse explains, "Sounds nuts, right? Sawyer had been stashing them in Roxanne Lagniappe's shed like a dragon storing treasure. He wanted to impress her, I guess. When she found them, she made him take them back. He stashed them in the shed back there. His family and mine have had enough trouble. I don't want him to go to jail too, he's not a bad guy, per se, but I have to do my job, which means I'll have to arrest him...when I track him down."

"What if I don't press charges for the license place cover?"

"That was but one of the many items he took."

"I'm sure it'll work out," I say, trying to offer hope.

Jesse's shoulders drop like he hardly has any left. "Sawyer had hypotheses about everything,—the moon shot, Sasquatch—including that the ring was somewhere on Hogan Tickle's property, back by the fort, or here. I understand now. Sort of."

"Why those places? Why here?"

"We would go over to the abandoned chateau and fort and get into trouble. If you look around here, this place isn't much different."

Pacing in front of him, I say, "Okay, if I were playing a criminally minded person who'd been framed, what would I do? What would I say? How old is your father—or how old was he when he went to jail?"

"Must've been in his mid to late forties."

"If I had something I didn't want anyone but me to find, where would I have put it?" I lower my voice a few octaves as if I'm Mr. Lawson. "If the clue I left was, ‘Fido buried it in the backyard,' where would a man pretending to be a dog hide something?"

Jesse brightens and gets to his feet and paces too. "Dog house, dog bone, dog—" He races across the backyard and disappears behind the shed.

I hurry after him and find him digging by a fire hydrant.

"Dogs pee on these. I stole this one junior year." In a matter of moments, the spade clinks against metal and Jesse pulls out an old coffee can.

We exchange a glance and both whisper, "Wow."

Shining my cell phone's light on it, he peels off the lid. Stuffed inside is an old bunched-up handkerchief. He carefully opens it and inside is a familiar ring.

Jesse whoops into the night. I stagger backward in shock. Thoughts race through my mind. How could his dad have stolen it? Does this mean he broke into my grandparents' house? Also, does this prove my grandfather framed Mr. Lawson? My heart thuds with these questions because this crosses all the good and bad lines there are.

I push these thoughts away when we get back in the truck. Jesse is over the moon excited, thinking his family is in the clear. But what if his dad took the money and the ring? However, as Jesse said, there would've been signs of Mr. Lawson coming into money.

"Can you believe this?" he asks, thrilled at the discovery .

On the ride back to Pigs in a Blanket, he rehashes everything. I play along, saying the right things and sharing his enthusiasm but doubt lingers in my mind. I'm very good at putting on a smile and filling a role, but it feels all wrong, like wearing someone else's shoes.

I expect to be up half the night thinking about the money, the ring, and everything we learned, but I sleep almost an hour past the alarm to get up early to make beignet buns.

I hurry to get ready and head over to the Coffee Loft. As I get started, maybe that bread kneading guru lady was right though, because the simplicity and familiarity of making the dough makes me think less. As the gluten builds, smoothing out the dough, so does my mind.

Also, the new day helps as the sun rises, filling the kitchen with golden light.

Mara has an appointment this morning, so I stay a bit late, but I don't mind. Lately, I've been rethinking Hogwash Holler. Sure, it has its flaws (have you seen Main Street lately?), but the owner of the This & That started sweeping their side of the sidewalk every morning. Rumor has it the Penny Gamble is under new ownership, and of course, the ladies at Hogwash Hairwash are on point with their seasonal décor.

I have hope for this little backwater with a clock that's only right twice a day. But what about Jesse and me?

Shortly after the lunch break rush, my phone rings with a call. Ordinarily, I wouldn't answer, but check in case it's Jesse. It's my agent .

She's surprisingly cheerful, considering the mess I made of my career and tells me I landed the role in Too Cute for Christmas. Finally, my big movie break! But my excitement doesn't come with the feel-good internal confetti I'd hoped for.

"The original person they selected had a scheduling conflict. Isn't this great? You'll make your big return opposite Banner Bryce. He's the next Peter Price, I'm telling you that you were made to play the wives of these yummy men."

I don't see how that incentivizes me to accept the offer. We talk about a few details, and I explain that I need some time to decide. I can't leave Mara without ample notice. However, she mentioned her husband will have some leave time coming up.

When Jesse comes in for his afternoon London Fog, I tell him the news.

His expression flickers. I can't help but think about my response to discovering the ring. What does this all mean for us? I fix his tea, not sure what to think or say. Everything was simpler when all I had to do was make beignet buns every morning. Now there's an unsolved mystery that implicates my family along with an opportunity to take back my career.

"I'm heading over to the nursing home where your grandmother is, but—" the static of his radio interrupts. "I have to stop at the station first."

I nod slowly.

"Tallula, whatever happens, I want you to know that I'm gone for you. "

"You're leaving?" I knew it. I feel my expression fall, my heart crater.

He grips my arms and plants a kiss on my lips. "I mean that I'm crazy about you. Whatever happens, we'll figure it out together."

I wring my hands, filled with trepidation.

Clearing his throat, he asks, "Wait. Are you going back to Hollywood?

"I don't know yet." My voice shakes. "A lot is going on. There's so much to think about." I can't look at him. "What happened late last night... We're different people with different backgrounds."

"Does that matter?"

"I don't know." I feel myself backsliding into the old me—the one who arrived in town with eyelash extensions and an attitude. With a good girl syndrome and a desire to hide—mostly from myself. Instead of saying that, I grasp at self-preservation. "I'm afraid we want different things."

He shakes his head. "I don't want things. I want you. If you want to live in the city, I'll leave this behind. If you want to be famous, I won't try to stop you. I know a few ways I could help you become infamous, but given my duty as a police officer—" He makes a zipping motion over his lips and smiles.

"I did enough damage without your help. You said I was unattainable, putting me on a pedestal. That's not who I am. I've been playing a part for so long, I hardly know who I am, but whoever that is, I don't think you and I could possibly be a match. "

A switch flips and bad boy Jesse knocks the rust off, coming to my defense, making sure not to let anyone get too close just like he always did. "What was this to you, just some kind of throwaway fall fling?"

I start to assure him that's not the case when someone dressed in a dark hoodie streaks by on the sidewalk with a ceramic gnome in his hands—it was on the stoop of the salon and it holds a bedazzled sign that says Welcome Gnomies . Thelma, who is surprisingly fast, with Betsy tottering behind, makes chase.

The radio transponder on Jesse's shoulder crackles again. "I have to go."

Leaning on the counter, I suddenly feel like I'm drowning in coffee and beignet buns. On any other day, I wouldn't mind swimming in those, but this is something else. Something awful. Everything I said to Jesse sounded like a breakup, but were we ever really together? Turns out Peter and I weren't technically married. Is anything in my life real?