Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,49

smoke,” I answered.

“False alarm,” we heard, coming from the back of the greenhouse.

“Who the hell called it in?” asked another voice that sounded like Bud’s.

“Pranksters,” Mom said to anyone who wanted to listen, shaking her head in disgust. People began wandering away.

Johnny Jay came stomping over to us.

“Quite a coincidence,” he said, looking right at me. “Tell me, how did the town meeting go?”

“It broke up almost before it got started,” Grant Spandle said from close by. “Half the board members are fire volunteers. Can’t vote without them.”

“My point exactly,” the police chief said, still staring at me. “Let’s see your cell phone.”

I rolled my eyes. Johnny Jay actually thought I would call in a false fire report just to disrupt the meeting? How pathetic was that? If anyone should be under suspicion, it should be Lori. She’d been late to the meeting and I had evidence that she’d been on my property without my permission. I couldn’t think of any reason why she would call in a false fire alarm, but the woman was nuts. Did she need a reason?

“I’m refusing to show you my cell phone,” I said to Johnny Jay. “If you’d think this through, you’d realize I couldn’t have called it in because I was making my case to the town board.”

Grams was firing on all cylinders, sharp as a filet knife in spite of the fact that it was now way past her bedtime. “Are you suggesting that one of my own did something unscrupulous?” she asked him, in her sweet little voice. “Because my granddaughter is a real peach.”

“I’m sure she is, ma’am,” Johnny Jay said. He dropped the subject for the moment; he’d never go up against Grams because she might round up the rest of the locals and go after him. In Moraine, you showed respect for the old-timers, or you paid the price.

“Let’s get a nice picture of the two of you together,” Grams said. “Story, come over here next to the police chief.”

“Oh for cripes’ sake,” Mom blurted. “No more pictures.”

Grams flashed one in Johnny Jay’s face anyway.

Even though there was no sign of a fire, the firefighters stuck around to make sure there wasn’t a spark smoldering somewhere in an overlooked corner. Brent and Trent Craig arrived, reassuring me that the market was locked down tight for the night and that sales had been good for a Monday evening. At that moment, I really missed the store—the banter, the smells, the whole atmosphere. It was the only place where things seemed normal lately.

Hunter and Carrie Ann roared up on his Harley Davidson. Too bad it was Carrie Ann with her arms wrapped around Hunter’s tight abs.

Hunter gave me a friendly wink, but kept his distance. I didn’t blame him. I’d have done the same if he’d been the one who’d called me names. Carrie Ann joined us while Hunter headed for the cops doing crowd control.

“False alarm,” I said to my cousin.

“Thank God,” she said. “I thought it might be your place.” Grams took another picture.

After that, the excitement died down.

“We need to talk,” Mom hissed at me when we had a private moment. “Alone.”

“It’s been a hard day,” I replied. “Lori Spandle tried to kill my bees, Clay was arrested for murder, the police chief invited me down for a consultation, and for a brief second I thought my house was on fire.” I wasn’t telling her anything that she didn’t already know. “I’m beat.”

“I feel bad for you, but this time you’re going to sit down and listen to me, and that’s final. Holly, take your grandmother to the frozen custard shop.”

I watched in dismay as Grams and Holly did what Mom said, leaving me without a defensive line to back me up.

Mom and I sat in my Adirondack chairs on the front porch, watching the last of the spectators leave. I lit a lantern and turned on a small heater I kept on the porch so I could enjoy the outdoors well into late fall. The temperature had dropped to the low fifties, but by tomorrow it would climb to the high seventies as long as the sun came out.

Mom had never been an overly affectionate mother. I couldn’t recall more than a handful of times that she’d told me she loved me, and none of those times were recent. And she was never any good with timing. A thought would hit her brain and come out her mouth seconds later. This time she surprised me.

“Have