them when they drip, right?”
“Sure. Of course.” As a kid, he’d thought dripping was half the fun, possibly because the rest of the week he’d had to wipe the noses of four squealing, frustrating girls. Most Sundays, he let Becky drip on herself. But that was before the threat of Jane. Becky needed more decorum and discipline if he was going to retain full custody.
Drew called Becky over, grabbing his own set of napkins.
“Lola.” Bitsy called Lola over to the Widows Club table. “We’re holding a bake sale Tuesday night benefiting the Little League. We’d love to have you participate.”
“Are you sure?” Lola looked as if she’d unexpectedly been chosen to pitch in game seven of the World Series when she’d never pitched in her life. “You’ve never asked me before.”
“Dad.” Becky tried to squirm out of reach. “Too hard.”
Drew released Becky and wiped his own hands, shamelessly eavesdropping on Lola, same as the rest of the coffee shop patrons.
“I suspect not asking was our loss.” Bitsy grabbed on to Lola’s hand as if they were dear friends. “Anyone can participate. In fact, Wendy Adams raises the most money every year. There’s a prize for that.”
Wendy didn’t lift her gaze from the menu. “It’s my chocolate-apple Bundt cake. It’s an old family recipe.”
Drew made a sound of agreement. Wendy’s superior baking talent wasn’t news. Her Bundt cake always sold out.
Lola had been chewing the lipstick from her lips. “I’m not a very good cook.”
“With a body like that, who cares how well she bakes?” Iggy whispered to Jason.
Drew scowled at him. He didn’t want Becky to hear talk like that.
His daughter scrambled to her knees on her stool just as Pearl topped off her hot chocolate with more whipped cream.
“I’ll help you.” Bitsy’s congenial tone convinced even Drew that Lola could be a success.
Still, Lola hesitated.
“Can we count on you?” Edith asked a second before Mims opened her mouth, presumably to ask the same thing.
Mims frowned.
There were too many cooks in the Widows Club kitchen. Drew bit back a grin. It was about time someone gave Mims a run for her money.
“Okay. If you’re sure.” Lola turned to go, looking less than excited at the prospect of being included in the bake sale.
She should be happy the widows weren’t blackballing her for that window display.
“I don’t win every year,” Wendy said kindly to Lola as she passed. “You can set up next to me if crowds make you nervous.”
“That’s very kind.” Again Lola’s gaze swept Wendy speculatively.
Drew pressed his lips together to keep from telling her Wendy wasn’t the owner of Randy’s jewelry collection. Wendy was the marrying kind. Everybody knew that. Since she’d come in, Iggy hadn’t given her more than a cursory glance.
“You be good to Scotty,” Pearl said to Lola, exchanging the thermos for Lola’s cash.
The coffee shop quieted. Gazes turned to Norma, Scotty’s widow, who sat frozen in her booth with her oldest teenage daughter, who had a mug of hot chocolate untouched before her.
“Will do.” Lola nodded and left.
“Lola does good work with the dead,” Pearl said into the silence. “Always comes in here for coffee before she starts.”
Drew hadn’t known that. He watched Lola walk across the street in those leggings. No cars screeched to a halt. No men drove their trucks into parked cars. It was a miracle.
When she’d disappeared around the corner, he turned his attention to his coffee cup and protecting his daughter. “Wendy, what are you doing later? Say after three?” Before his daughter could ask what he was doing, Drew added, “There’s a new Disney movie out, and I promised Becky we’d go see it today.” He’d done no such thing, but at the prospect of going to the movies, Becky remained silent.
“I’d love to.” Wendy smiled that gentle smile of hers, the one that said she was no trouble. Ever. “You’ll change, of course,” she said to Becky.
“Why?” Becky jolted upright, flinging a trail of whip from her chin across the counter. “I have clothes on.”
“Because that’s what you do when you go places.” Wendy’s smile never wavered. “You put on clean clothes and make yourself look presentable.”
Drew smiled. Wendy was definitely going to be a good influence on Becky.
Why, she probably knew how to French braid.
Chapter Ten
Lola walked the short block to the Eternal Rest Mortuary.
The past twenty-four hours had been surreal. Randy’s betrayal, the Widows Club fund-raiser, and the two sides of Sheriff Drew Taylor.
After she’d left the farmhouse, she’d parked down by the river, letting