Bone Is Where the Heart Is

  Bone Is Where The Heart Is

  A Naomi & Winston Mystery Book 1

  Maddie Sutton

  Copyright © 2020 by Maddie Sutton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Cover design by: Connor’s Cozy Covers

  Edited by: Truth In Editing

  Proofing by: Picky Cat Proofing & Copyediting

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Author’s Notes

  Connect with Maddie

  Also by Maddie Sutton

  In loving memory of

  Pamela Watt

  My best friend who talked it straight, walked it true, and believed in me when I didn't believe in myself.

  I miss you every day.

  Chapter One

  For the fifth time in as many days, I wanted to cry. Currently, the remnants of my life were in boxes stacked in my father’s garage. Remainders of a life that disintegrated from one simple, stupid, tragic mistake and destroyed the seven years I had put into building it away from my folks and this clannish, snobbish town.

  My dad was unloading the last of the furniture in the U-Haul with the help of my little sister’s current boyfriend. I was doing the best I could to make the stacks neat, separating my personal belongings from the tools of my trade.

  “This is just temporary,” I said as my father passed by on his way to get the rest of the bed frame. “Just until I can find my own place and rent a storage unit to hold all my grooming equipment.”

  And a job. I’d need a job to support that, of course.

  “Naomi Cooper,” my mother scolded me from behind in that Mother Voice. She stepped out of the kitchen to wrap her arms around me. “There is absolutely no rush for you to do anything. We are just glad to have you home. I think your father missed you,” she said, that last part in a whisper.

  “But I’m in Dad’s way.” I flopped my arms around me to indicate the disaster of boxes and furniture that were now in the middle of his pristine garage.

  “Galen has used you coming home as a reason to clean up this disaster-in-the-making. But he was so happy to do it.”

  It didn’t make me feel much better. Unfortunately, there was no other choice at the moment.

  “I’m underfoot.”

  “Balderdash! And I found those curtains, Phoebe.” Gramma, LaLa to the community at large, picked her way carefully down the stairs leading from the kitchen. Mom went to take the fabric that Gramma flapped around.

  She toddled over to me and poked at my foot with her cane. “Balderdash!” she repeated. “You are no more underfoot than my big toe!”

  I shifted some boxes off a stool so she would have a place to sit. “I moved out so I wouldn’t be a strain on the house. Now I’m back, I’ve forced Sarah out of her room—”

  “No you didn’t,” Mom said. “She spends more time at Robbie’s apartment anyway since she started work at the donut shop. Early hours, she claimed.”

  Gramma tapped my calf with her cane. “You just need something to do. And I have an idea.”

  “She just got here, Mother—”

  “Give the girl some time to get her feet under her, Louisa.” Dad draped his arm around me and squeezed hard, in only that way a dad could do in an effort to make things better.

  They weren’t going to make my feeling bad about moving back home easy. I know they were thrilled when I moved back to Harmony Grove. It wasn’t what I had planned for my life, though. That’s what hurt the worst.

  Being forced to come back over a lie. Losing everything over a lie.

  After living in Charleston for ten years, Harmony Grove was just...so dreadfully small. Already the claustrophobia was getting cloying.

  “Nonsense. She has the Manfred family spirit. No doubt she got it from me. Driving all that way and having to unload her entire life has worn her out emotionally and physically but get back to it, I say.”

  Dad secured the ramp and the door. The rattle and clang from the closing caught everyone’s attention. The truck was empty and all my worldly goods were stacked in the garage. “You’re finally home, honey.”

  Yeah. Sure. Home.

  I glanced at the time. I was already a day late in returning the U-Haul which would incur a charge. “Dad, a lift from the U-Haul place before they close?”

  The prickle of tears built behind my eyes as I pulled up to the old gas station. Dad drove the U-Haul into the rental yard and I parked his truck in an empty spot in front of the garage.

  He slid from the truck and motioned for me to follow him inside.

  Once I turned over the paperwork and they slammed my card, it was final. I was back in Harmony Grove for the duration.

  How long? I had no idea. As much as I hated finding myself back in an insular place like Harmony Grove, this is where I needed to be.

  Thankfully, I was able to keep it together while signing everything and turning over the key.

  The waterworks were a little harder to control once I was outside. Dad stepped up next to me and hooked our arms together.

  “You okay, baby?”

  “No.” He’s my dad. I wasn’t going to lie to him. “What am I doing, Dad? Did I give up too soon?”

  “I can’t answer that, Naomi.” He gently guided me to his truck and opened the passenger’s side for me to climb in. Once behind the wheel, he cranked the truck. “From what you said happened, well, honestly I don’t have a frame of reference. I mean, your mom tells me all the time that unhappy people can be pretty petty and vindictive because it feeds that hungry beast that is eating them up inside.”

  “That’s pretty gruesome.”

  “And from what you said, it bears out.”

  In truth, it was. One momentary lapse of attention and a dog’s chance at Best In Show was devastated when someone sabotaged the prize winning Maltese named Penny Arcade. When they clipped her topknot, they took my reputation with it.

  Of course the owners fired me on the spot. My neglect and inattention butchered their champion’s fur. The scandal that created? There was no way I could recover.

  It was a pure case of sabotage, no doubt by another jealous owner. There was no proof and I was left standing in the ashes of a reputation that had taken me years to build.

  Water under the bridge, now. It was what it was and all that was left was to pick up the tattered pieces of my reputation, my dignity, my self-respect. “I guess. I just feel like I’m a burden on you guys right now.”

  Dad leaned over as if to share a secret. “Can I be honest with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Your mom’s glad you’re home. She missed you so much. Louisa did as well. They both see themselves in you when they were younger women. Louisa even offered to move into the basement so you could have your old room back. You know how the damp plays merry havoc with her knees.”

  “Gramma wouldn’t be able to handle the stairs, either.” I let out a sigh. “I just hate that you’re going to all this trouble for a situation that’s most likely going
to be temporary.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to open a grooming shop here in Harmony Grove?”

  “Maybe.” My confidence in being a show groomer was shattered. Still, I was a good groomer. I had a great rapport with animals, able to make even the most recalcitrant animal sit still while I washed and trimmed. “I have enough from the sale of my condo and business to buy something if there’s anything available here.”

  “Next week, we’ll head to a realtor and see if there’s anything for sale or rent in town. You know your mother and grandmother will do everything they can to help you get set up. And me of course.” Dad pulled me to kiss my forehead, then eased us onto the road to take us home.

  “You can be my handyman.”

  His smile beamed like a lighthouse beacon.

  He was, along with my entire family, my hero.

  When we got back to the house, Gramma sat at the kitchen table writing on a long yellow legal pad. Mom stood over her shoulder gesturing as they chatted excitedly.

  The house was filled with the scent of meatloaf, my favorite supper meal. Potatoes steamed in a bowl on the counter. Mom pulled the split-top dinner rolls out of the oven.

  If there was anything I did miss about Harmony Grove it was Mom’s cooking. She was one of the best in Yazoo County, Mississippi. The cooking gene skipped me. I was lucky to be able to microwave dinners without setting the house on fire.

  Gramma turned when we closed the door to the garage. “Good. You’re back. I have a Honey-Do list for you.”

  Dad scooted by Mom and pressed a kiss to her cheek on his way. “I’ll add it to my other list of things to do around here,” he said absently.

  “Not you, Galen. Phoebe already has you running ragged. It’s almost as if you hadn’t retired.” Gramma flagged me over and pushed a chair out with a motion for me to sit down. “You, Naomi. This is your Honey-Do list.”

  “I’m being assigned chores,” I said with a grin. “Can I get some juice before you load me up?”

  “Better you than me,” Dad said.

  Gramma scooched over in her chair. She shoved her list at me as I sat down with my orange juice. “Read it over.”

  “What if I didn’t bring my reading glasses down?” I squinted at the pad, making a show that I couldn’t read it. It was useless. My gramma had the most beautiful penmanship.

  A lost art no longer taught in school she would say.

  She wasn’t wrong. I had trouble reading my own writing sometimes.

  Gramma cleared her throat in clear expectation.

  Fine.

  I started at the top.

  Business Name

  Business Location

  Title research

  Taxes

  Incorporation

  Talk to a lawyer (there’s a very nice young man down on the square. You’ll know him when you see him. And he’s single. This is your mother’s idea.)

  “Gramma.”

  “What?” she asked primly. She looked over and sniffed. “Oh.”

  I kept reading.

  Make nice with the vet (he plays the blues on guitar and has the voice of an angel. Strong hands show good character. He’s also single. This is not your mother’s idea.)

  I lowered the pad again and shot both Mom and Gramma a glare. “I’m not looking to find anyone and I don’t need your help.”

  “That’s good,” Dad said as he wandered back into the kitchen. “But the police chief is also single. Very stable man.”

  “You’re all shameless.”

  The rest of the list was mostly about setting up the shop and how to spread the word.

  Meet Inge and Pieter. Sarah says they could use some help at the Animal Shelter.

  I shook my head. “Volunteering to have my heart broken every day by all the unwanted dogs and cats? I don’t know.”

  “You could go back to our boyfriend ideas.” Gramma tapped on the pad, next to her choice, of course.

  Dad paused to read the list. “Well, there are plenty of eligible men who volunteer—”

  “Dad.”

  “All right.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “I can rig you up a portable kit to lug down there and give the animals a beauty salon treatment. Phoebe likes to go to the salon, even though she says she’s perfectly capable of fixing her own hair. Why wouldn’t the animals like a bit of pampering, too?”

  “Besides, it’s a no-kill shelter. Sarah said that Inge is aces at getting her animals adopted,” Mom added.

  I worried at my lower lip. “That could be a way to promote the business. And it would get me out of the house.”

  “That’s the spirit! I’ll call Inge right now and tell her you’ll be there first thing in the morning.” Gramma jumped out of the chair and raced for the phone in the living room.

  She didn’t use her cane once.

  Dad stared after her. “I always knew she was putting that on.”

  “You had any doubt?” Mom thrust the dishes at Dad to indicate he was to set the table.

  From past experience, there was no arguing with Gramma so I made no move to stop her. Until I had a better plan, getting out of the house to volunteer at the shelter was as good a plan as any.

  It beat sitting in my room and crying

  Inge Handel was a gracious and energetic woman about the same age as Gramma, and she was ready to put me to work the moment I darkened the door to the animal shelter.

  “I cleared out a cabinet for you to store supplies if you want to leave them,” she said, helping me to lug my supplies in. She set me up in a small room that apparently doubled as the exam room when the vet came in once a week to look over new arrivals.

  “LaLa and I went to school together. She was such a hoot then, and she is now. She always talked about how proud she was of you.”

  “I’m pretty fond of Gramma, too.” It was so awkward to talk to people I barely remembered. They knew all about me, which added to the discomfort.

  “Mrs. H, you’ll never guess who I found waiting by the back door.”

  Sarah, my kid sister, was a surprise child, born when I was just starting high school. My parents were always very loving towards each other. A surprise child was bound to happen.

  “Hey, Nomi,” she chirped cheerfully and gave me a quick shoulder bump that had to settle for a hug. Her gloved hands were otherwise full with a very muddy, very fragrant dog.

  “Well, Mr. Winston Pickering,” Inge said with a sigh. “I guess Violet left the back door open again.”

  Sarah thrust the pitifully wet Chihuahua at me. “Your first customer. Do your magic.”

  Cow poop reeked from the little guy. It was eye-watering. “This may take more than magic. I could use your help until I get my gear set up.”

  “Sure,” Sarah followed me into the small room, still holding Winston at arm’s length. “What should I do with him?”

  “Set him in the sink and watch him so he doesn’t jump out. Maybe get that sweater and collar off of him. Do you have a washer?”

  Just then, the front door buzzer echoed through the shelter and riled up every dog in the facility, kicking up a cacophony of barks, yips and howls. Inge leaned out of the room to glance towards the reception area. “I have to get that. Sarah can point you to the washer. Thank you so much, Naomi. This is going to be ever so helpful. The animals are sure to love you.” Inge squeezed my arm and disappeared down the hall.

  Sarah filled me in on Winston’s history during his first wash and rinse. It appeared that Winston, a fawn-colored Chihuahua, I discovered after the poop and mud was washed off, was a weekly runaway. Like clockwork, Winston would show up at the shelter’s back door, tail wagging, ears back. I was positive it was a rather pitiful sight, especially when it rained. His poor sweater had seen better days but was still a brilliantly neon pink.

  “Is he neglected?” I asked, because of course I wanted my heart broken.

  Winston, sensing he was being talked about, waggled his tail which whipped water around. It wagged so ha
rd it appeared to wag him. I didn’t try to dodge. Such were the hazards of dog grooming.

  “What?” Sarah laughed. “Oh no. Did you get a good look at that collar? Those are real diamonds. His owner dotes on him like a child.”

  Ratty, brilliant pink sweater and a matching pink leather and diamond collar? How odd.

  “His owner, Mrs. Pickering, is a right old crow. Everyone hates her.”

  “Hey, surely not everyone.”

  “Nope. Everyone. Just wait until you meet her, then you’ll see. Best we can figure, he runs away because he needs breaks from her every so often.”

  As I had no firsthand experience one way or the other, I concentrated on getting him clean and smelling less like cow poop.

  “Sarah,” Inge called down the hall. “Can you walk these nice people back to Hammerstein? They’re here to pick him up.”

  “On it, Mrs. H.” Sarah turned to leave, taking the sweater with her. “I’ll call Mrs. Pickering to let her know we have him. I’ll dump this,” she held up the nasty sweater at arm’s length, “in the wash.”

  After a final rinse, I lifted Winston out of the sink and wrapped him in an old towel to dry off. “There.” I gently set him on the counter. “Let’s set you up under the dryer to knock off the last of the damp, okay?”

  Winston stood as still as he could, tail curving along his rump from the cold. When I smiled at him, his ears perked up and he strained to give me licks. His tongue caught air as I stretched out of his reach.

  “Chill, Casanova. I’m not that easily taken in by a dapper gent.”

  I set the dryer on low so the noise wasn’t offensive to sensitive ears and gently ran my hand through the air stream so it didn’t burn his delicate skin. “You’re a good dog, Winston,” I said with a smile. “Does Mrs. Pickering yell at you a lot?”