Chapter Text
“How can we help you?” Honey asked, smiling at the woman who had come in to the agency not long after they’d opened the doors.
The woman sat down at the table with Honey and Trixie. “I’m sure you hear this all the time, but my husband is a good man. I can’t believe that he would have an affair, but there’s money missing. I noticed in early December, but I wrote it off as money he’d taken out to purchase Christmas presents. After Christmas, the receipts still didn’t line up, so I asked him about them and he didn’t answer. I want to believe he has some surprise planned, but, frankly, he’s just not that kind of man. I need to know the truth and a friend of mine who got divorced recently said you were quick, discreet, and not overpriced.” Honey nodded. That was their intention. The woman wrung her hands. “This is so difficult,” she told the two investigators. “I still remember what it felt like when I saw him for the very first time.”
🔍
Trixie and Honey had been successful obtaining pictures of most of their targets during the week. By Friday, they had only one target that had completely eluded them, despite claims by his coworkers that he left for lunch every single day.
“I think we have to tail him from the office,” Trixie said.
“That borders on stalking. That’s why we don’t do it,” Honey reminded her.
“Following him tells us where he’s going. Once we know where, we can go back through and connect it up independently, which then allows us to sit on the location, and get the necessary evidence. The following is irrelevant.”
“This is a one-time only event,” Honey warned.
An hour later, they were moving stealthily down an alleyway. They ducked under a broken panel of plywood and crouched down. Their target had met another man. Trixie snapped photos of the meeting. She wished she could get closer as a small bag with white powder in it and money exchanged hands. She wanted to know just what drug her client’s husband was purchasing.
Although the deal was clearly done, neither man left the alley. They began to argue. Suddenly, more men appeared in the alleyway. Trixie and Honey glanced at each other and decided not to get in the middle of a drug deal gone wrong. They beat a hasty retreat.
Trixie ducked under the plywood sheet. It dropped more quickly than she had expected, banging into her shoulder. She pitched forward, scrapping her knee and elbow.
“Are you okay?” Honey hissed.
Trixie pushed herself to her feet. “Yes. I’m fine. Just a spill.”
As Honey drove them back to the agency, Trixie called a contact at the local police station and relayed the information to them about the deal going down or awry.
“Well,” Trixie admitted when she hung up with local police, “At least, for once, the wife is right. He’s not cheating on her.”
🔍
Jim was waiting when Trixie got home from work, as had become normal when Jim was able to get away from the academy without too much trouble. Jim put a palm against her cheek tenderly and placed a soft kiss on her jaw under her ear. A shadow caught his eye; he reached a gentle hand to brush the hair off her neck, so that he could see it better. A bruise extended under the collar of her shirt, as he’d thought.
“Did I bruise?” Trixie asked, guessing what had drawn his attention.
“Yes,” Jim answered, moving to get a better look. “What happened? I didn’t think you were working a case that had any risk of injury.”
“Neither did we,” Trixie admitted. “We ended up in the middle of something we didn’t plan to be in the middle of…and, in the interest of our own safety, decided to get out of it—quickly. I had a spill.”
“So, what else am I going to find the next time I undress you?” Jim asked, as curious as he was concerned.
“Not much,” she assured him. “An elbow bruise, a skinned knee.”
Jim lifted the collar of her shirt away from the bruise; something about what little of the bruise he could see nagged at him, and he wanted a better look. She yelped. “Sorry, Trix,” he murmured. “It looked like just a bruise.” There was an abrasion in the middle of it. Her shirt had stuck in the blood when she’d gotten it. As her shirt was black, Jim hadn’t known until it was too late and, however unintentionally, had ripped the cloth out of the wound. “Let me clean it up for you,” Jim suggested, eyeing the scrape that was bleeding once again.
She sat at the breakfast table, when he motioned for her to, while he fetched the first aid kit from underneath the downstairs bathroom’s sink. When he returned to the kitchen, Jim helped ease the shirt over her head, seeing her wince when the shirt dragged against the wound. He washed his hands before dampening a clean cloth and gently cleaning the blood, both fresh and old, from her skin. The bruise was deep red and purple around a nasty scrape. The whole area—a circle half the size of his palm—was swollen, and—he imagined—quite tender. Jim spread an antibacterial ointment over the scrapes, as Trixie tried not to wince, and covered it with a sterile pad and tape from their first aid kit.
🔍
All of the Bob-Whites were free Thursday evening, so they gathered at Wimpy’s for dinner. “Don’t let me forget,” Honey told her brother and Trixie as they all settled into their booth, “I have the dress for Bobby in the car.”
“Thanks, Hon. I know Bobby’s already thanked you, but I’m grateful, too.”
“It’s the least I could do, when his plan to reassure his friend that her cancer treatments haven’t made her ugly is so sweet.”
“And you’re both going to his game on Saturday?” Mart asked. “You’ll cheer extra loud for the rest of us?”
“Of course,” Trixie promised. “I’m sure Bobby can get you tickets to any game you want to go to, too.”
Mart nodded. “I should go more often. I just don’t think about it. By the time he was into sports, we were in college and not around for his games. I kind of forget he’s so close now.”
🔍
“Hi, Trix,” Bobby answered cheerfully when she called him on Tuesday night.
“Hi, Bobster. So, how’d it go?”
“How’d what go?” Bobby teased.
“Robert Harold Belden,” Trixie rapped out impatiently.
Bobby laughed. “Well, Trix. It went well. We danced for a while and then went out and sat on the green, to talk and stargaze. We both had a really good time.”
“Not to sound like my husband, but is there a ‘but’ in this story?”
“Not this story, exactly. Not Kristy and me and the dance. Just…in the locker room yesterday.”
“Some of your teammates weren’t amused that you wore that dress?”
“I expected that,” Bobby answered. “A guy wearing a dress to the spring dance isn’t exactly commonplace around here. I knew some of the guys would have opinions about what I did, and some might not understand that it was the gesture of a friend, not a sign that I want to be you. Well, I do want to be you, but not the girl part.”
“You usually shake off any comments anyone makes about you, whatever they’re saying; at least you did when we were all younger.”
“I do. I’m not hurt or insulted for myself,” Bobby answered. He paused for a minute and then spoke quietly. “I just hope no one on the team is in the closet. If anyone of them is in the closet, it had to be painful to listen to some of what was said. Some of the…oh, ignorance, mostly, but vicious, brutal ignorance. The wounding, killing kind.”
“Your teammates’ hate is not your fault,” Trixie reminded him.
“I know; I just didn’t expect anything that ugly—I expected a ribbing, but good-natured stuff, what I’ll get from Larry and Terry, if they find the pictures you took on Saturday.”
🔍
The phones rang almost before Trixie and Honey had their coats off. Trixie grabbed it. “Belden Wheeler Detective Agency.”
Honey snickered. It had taken six months to train her to answer the phone that way. Evidently, it was going to take six more to train her to the new name. Honey would have thought Frayne-Wheeler would be easy for her to remember.
“Is this former Agent Belden?” The caller asked.
Trixie hesitated but was fairly certain she recognized the voice. “Yes, sir.”
“This is Agent in Charge Sebastian Nicholson.”
“I thought I recognized your voice, sir,” Trixie replied. “What can Frayne-Wheeler Detective Agency do for you?” Trixie asked, sticking her tongue out at Honey.
“We have a case in the City that needs a local contact.”
“I see,” Trixie said slowly, though she wasn’t sure she did. “Last May you seemed to have NYPD at your beck and call. Is there a reason why they do not suffice, sir?”
“The issue is a sensitive one. It will be imperative at times that those involved are not perceived as part of law enforcement.”
“But they can’t be civilians, not after the last time,” Trixie recalled. The National Investigative Bureau had gotten into seriously hot water when two civilians used for a little recon were killed.
“This case is far too sensitive for civilian involvement,” Nicholson told her. “Your partner will have to stand aside or be vetted.”
“We are a team,” Trixie insisted. “I won’t work a case without her. If you will hold, I’ll ask her about it. She didn’t sign up to have your people dig through her life.” Trixie put her former boss on hold. Honey looked at her expectantly. “It’s my former boss at the Bureau. There’s a sensitive case that needs some local contacts and he thought of me. Due to the nature of the case, he insists that you either stand down or get vetted. I told him we work as a team, so if you stand down, I stand down.”
“Are you sure about that?” Honey asked. “Having the NIB like us is good for business. I don’t think you should stand down.”
“Then you should be vetted. Are you sure about that? Depending on their mood, they may know what you had at dinner last night by the time they are done.”
“You can tell them the chicken parmesan was delicious,” Honey replied. “I have nothing to hide.”
Trixie relayed that to Agent Nicholson. He said that when the vetting was complete someone would be in touch to set up a meeting between them and the agents.
🔍
They worked on their other cases most of the day. Honey had stepped out to pick up lunch when the phone rang again. “Frayne-Wheeler Detective Agency,” Trixie answered the phone, remembering her mistake earlier in the day.
The voice on the other end laughed warmly. “Still forgetting the new name?”
“You know it, Abby,” Trixie answered. “Is this a social call, or are you the Bureau’s messenger?”
“A messenger this time. AIC Nicholson wanted his vetting job done fast and thorough. When I saw who it was, I promised to do it myself. I thought you’d prefer that.”
“I do. Thanks, Abby. Are we cleared?”
“Yes. AIC Nicholson didn’t say if he’d told you who the agents on the case are. I believe you’ll remember Agents Clarkson and Benbrook.”
“Quite well,” Trixie agreed. “They’re good agents.”
“They’d have to be to get stuck with this case, and they’ll be at your agency before 8:30 on Monday morning.”
“I’ll let Honey know,” Trixie promised.
Abby laughed. “And beg her to tell Jim? With your history with the Bureau, I imagine he’s not going to be thrilled about this.”
“But he’ll be the first to admit that it is my job, and that Benbrook and Clarkson are good agents. That he knows them will reassure him. He’s so easy for me to love, so I can put up with the worry.”
🔍
Trixie wasn’t as convinced by the time she and Jim got home from a dinner date.
“I’m good at my job,” Trixie told Jim angrily, “and I’m not going to stop doing it just because you think I can’t protect myself!”
Jim put his hands out calmingly. “I didn’t say that,” he reminded her. “I didn’t say you shouldn’t do it. I just asked you to be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”
“I’m not some hapless female you have to protect, Jim! I can take care of myself!” Trixie stormed off.
Jim sank into one of the chairs in the den, putting his head in his hands. How had a casual conversation over dessert turned into an argument? Well, Frayne, you did have to bring up the abrasion from two weeks ago…
Federal investigators had asked Honey and Trixie to help with an ongoing investigation in New York City over the next few weeks. Trixie had mentioned it to Jim just so he would know they might be working odder than usual hours. Jim hadn’t meant to be anything but supportive. He had every faith in her capabilities—and Honey’s—but he always worried for her safety. In his brain, he trusted her, but it was hard for him to trust in her safety with his whole heart. All he’d tried to do was ask her to be careful, for his sake, especially since he couldn’t trust the National Investigative Bureau to keep her safe, not after Chicago.
“Let this be a lesson to you, Jenna,” Jim told the puppy, who was pawing at his leg, concerned. She didn’t like it when he and Trixie yelled. “Don’t say things to Mama that you don’t mean.”
Something crashed and he heard Trixie cry out. He got to his feet quickly, calling, “Trix? Are you alright?” Jenna followed at Jim’s heels.
Trixie had fallen at the top of the stairs but she was already getting to her feet when he got to her. “Are you alright?” He asked again, worried.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Hurt my ankle pretty good; I think it’s just twisted. Damn heels.”
He looked at the two-inch heels she’d worn to dinner. “I thought you could walk in those,” he observed.
Trixie rolled her eyes. “I can walk in them. I can’t storm off when I’m pissed at you in them!”
“I’m sorry, Trixie,” Jim apologized. “I wasn’t trying to say I doubted your ability to take care of yourself, or your capabilities as an investigator.” Trixie shot him a glare as she leaned over to pick up the heels but said nothing. Jim took that as a good sign. At the very least, it meant she didn’t want to argue with him.
When she made to continue toward their room, Jim didn’t try to follow her. Trixie always needed some time to cool off after they fought. He’d give her a minute and then go make up with her.
Her sore ankle turned under her and she stumbled. Jim steadied her reflexively even as she caught herself on the railing. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked her with evident concern.
“It’s just a twisted ankle,” she informed him, pulling out of his grip.
Her ankle wouldn’t take the weight. This time Jim scooped her up in his arms. “Let me take a look at it. It’s not a twisted ankle, if you can’t put any weight on it.” Their room was closer, he decided. He carried her to the bed.
“Ow,” Trixie muttered as Jim examined her ankle. “Jim, that hurts.”
“Let me wrap it up and put some ice on it,” Jim said after a moment.
“As long as you stop pressing it,” Trixie agreed.
“There you go,” Jim told Trixie when he had wrapped her injured ankle and put ice on it. “If it’s still bothering you Sunday, you should let Brian take a look. I don’t think it’s anything more than a mild sprain, but it wouldn’t hurt to let him be the judge.”
“I won’t have a choice in the matter, if it’s still hurting by the end of the weekend. While you’re running off to your conference, I have dinner at Crabapple Farm with the family.”
“That’s right,” Jim remembered, making sure he didn’t let on that it was relief to know Brian would check her out without him having to force the issue. “Tell Moms I’m very disappointed to be missing her fabulous cooking.”
“You have to go to this conference?” Trixie asked him.
“Afraid so, Shamus. Last year, I asked Marge to go, because we were still getting settled, but her sister is not doing well right now. I can’t beg off again.”
“When will you be back?”
“Flight’s supposed to get in to JFK a little after six on Wednesday. If you want to pick me up, I’ll take you to dinner in the City. Wherever you want.”
“You have yourself a date, Mr. Frayne.”
🔍
“Skip the conference,” Trixie suggested, as they left Bobby’s dorm.
“There’s nothing else I’d rather do,” Jim assured her, “but duty calls. It’s only a couple days. I’ll be back on Wednesday. You’ll be so busy, what with the new case and dinner at the Farm, you’ll hardly miss me.”
“I always miss you,” Trixie insisted.
“I’ll miss you, too,” Jim promised. “I would promise to call but they’ve got this thing booked so tight, I just don’t know that I’ll have time for more than hi-bye.”
“I understand,” Trixie admitted. “You know I support you, and the academy, right?”
“I know you do,” Jim reassured her, kissing her softly.
🔍
Trixie sighed as she tossed her keys on the counter. Somehow, the house always felt colder when she knew Jim wasn’t coming home to it. She moved through the house toward the bedroom, ready to sleep.
Their bed was perfectly made; Jim had still been home when she got up that morning. She turned the light on and saw something on her pillow. She went over to investigate. A single red rose lay on the pillow, along with a handful of dark chocolate raspberry truffles, and a quick note in Jim’s hand.
Shamus,
I’m sorry we fought last night.
I hope your ankle is feeling better now.
I’ll miss you tonight—I hate being away from my special girl.
I love you, Beautiful.
Jim
Knowing she shouldn’t, because the sugar would keep her awake, Trixie ate the truffles as she put the rose in the vase on the dresser.
Jenna whined as Trixie got into bed, looking from Trixie to the other side of the bed. “I know, Sweetie,” Trixie assured the puppy. “I miss Daddy, too.” Trixie reached down to scratch Jenna’s ears and then ordered her to go to bed. Obediently, Jenna went to her pillow and curled up.
Trixie was settling the blankets around her shoulders when she heard the buzz that indicated a text message. Lazily she reached for her phone.
Hi baby; made it safely. The schedule looks even more intense in person. I don’t know how often I’ll be able to call.
Trixie smiled and dialed Jim’s number.
“Hi, Trix. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, I’m just going to bed. Thank you for the rose. Don’t tell me you turned traditionalist?”
Jim chuckled. “There will always be special flowers for my special girl. I promise. I just didn’t want the roses to feel neglected,” he teased.
Trixie laughed and then sobered suddenly. “I miss you, Jim.”
“I miss you, too, baby. I’ll be home on Wednesday. You’ll be so busy with Jenna and the Bob-Whites, and then the new case, that you won’t even notice I’m gone,” Jim tried to assure her.
“Impossible,” Trixie differed. “And Jenna agrees with me. She can’t understand why we’re going to bed without Daddy.”
“You know I’d rather be there,” Jim reminded her gently. “I’ll be home soon. Sweet dreams, right?”
“You too, Jim. Don’t be moping there. If you have to be away for the school, you should at least try to enjoy it.”
“I’ll try not to mope. I don’t think I’ll be able to anyway. Everyone I’ve met so far seems to be high-energy.”
“You mean the 8 a.m. jumping jacks type? Better you than me,” Trixie replied.
Jim chuckled. “Fair enough. Sleep well, Trix. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Don’t stay up too late.”
“Not me. I’m lights out already.”
“Me too. Good night, Jim.”
“Good night, Trixie.”
🔍
Trixie woke to the sound of her cell phone ringing. “Morning,” she mumbled.
“Oh, Trixie, I woke you. I’m so sorry. I figured you slept so soundly you wouldn’t even hear it.”
“What do you want, Honey?”
“I came over to the Farm to have breakfast with Brian. Di and Mart have a couple of things to do, but then Moms suggested we all come over for lunch, rather than dinner.”
“What time?” Trixie asked drowsily.
“Quarter of one,” Honey answered.
“And what sad hour of the morning is it currently?”
Honey giggled. “Quarter after nine.”
Trixie groaned. “See you in a couple hours.” Trixie hung up and buried her head under the comforter. Unfortunately, she couldn’t fall back asleep. She threw the comforter off, and rose, grumbling. “I’m awake now.”
She padded out to the kitchen in her PJs. As she fed Jenna, she saw the muffins on the island. They’ll go hard if I don’t finish them soon, Trixie thought. She grabbed the bag and pulled it to her. As she selected two of the muffins, she saw what they’d hidden: a tiger lily blossom in a bud vase, and a chocolate covered orange. Trixie grabbed for the chocolate but couldn’t reach it. She stamped her foot in frustration at her short stature and walked around the island to fetch it. There was a note under it.
Good Morning Sunshine,
I wish I could be there with you.
I’d love to have made you breakfast in bed.
I suppose you could take the chocolate back to bed, and maybe that would count?
I hope you have a wonderful weekend.
Jim
You know, that’s tempting, Trixie thought. In the end, Trixie decided that, since she didn’t have to climb the staircase before eating, she wasn’t going to. Instead, Trixie ate her muffins and chocolate in the kitchen.
🔍
Eventually Trixie made her way back to her room to get dressed. She flicked on the lights in her closet and smiled, finding a handful of peanut butter cups and yellow buttercup flowers scattered over a piece of cardboard on one of the shelves. Under the chocolate, she found another short note.
My Buttercup
I’m missing your sunny smile and bouncing curls.
I promise you I am, no matter when it is that you’re finding this.
I always miss seeing you smile and tugging on my curl when we’re apart.
It’s so easy for me to see that you’re the better part of me.
Jim
Trixie put the chocolate on the dresser for later. As much as she loved chocolate of any sort, she’d just eaten.
🔍
By the time she was dressed, Jenna was eager for a morning walk. As she left the house with the puppy at her heels, Trixie wondered if she should be taking the dog for a run. After all, she was going grocery shopping and then to lunch with the Bob-Whites. While she could take Jenna with her to the Farm, it still meant a long day for the puppy where she’d be expected to behave.
Trixie shook her head. Too late now, she decided, looking at her heavy boots and snowy paths through the Preserve. Jenna usually behaves, so I’ll just have to trust that she won’t cause too much trouble.
Several minutes later, a voice broke into her thoughts. “Hi, Mrs. Trixie!” Trixie looked up, startled. A trio of Ten Acres’ students was out snowshoeing.
“Hi, boys,” Trixie replied. “Jenna, come.” Jenna obediently returned to Trixie’s side.
“Mr. Jim said you guys had a new puppy but he didn’t say she was hottie,” one of the boys joked.
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t tell you about any new ‘hotties’ in the area, either,” one of the other boys teased good-naturedly.
Trixie laughed. “Jenna, greet.” Happily, the puppy left Trixie’s side to be introduced to her newest friends. Trixie made a mental note to dry the puppy off carefully when they got home as she watched Jenna roll to her back in the snow so the boys could scratch her belly.
“We should be getting back,” the boy who’d called the greeting to her admitted. “Nice seeing you, Mrs. Trixie. And Jenna.” The other boys chorused agreement as Jenna returned to Trixie and the boys headed for the school. Trixie decided it was time for them to head home as well.
🔍
Trixie looked at her watch when she had Jenna and the entryway floor dried off. Look at that, she thought. Just after 10:30. I have plenty of time to go do the grocery shopping and then I can tell Honey I’ve actually crossed something off my to-do list.
She headed for the back of the house and the stairway down to the garage where her sneakers and purse lived. Laughing, she put the raisins covered in dark chocolate aside, planning to take them down to the car, so she’d remember to take them to lunch and share them. By the looks of things, she was going to have more chocolate than even she could handle.
Alright, Jim, she thought. I don’t even know what kind of flower this is. It was a beautiful spiky blue flower that he’d stuck through the zipper of her purse.
Trixie
I couldn’t pass this up when I saw Di had them growing in the greenhouse
at Ten Acres. Mart tells me they’re called ‘cornflowers’. I’ll have to ask Di
about them when I get back—maybe we can put some by the front walk
next spring. I think they’re beautiful. Just like you.
Jim
Jenna sniffed the bag of chocolates. “Leave it, Jenna,” Trixie ordered. Jenna lay down with her head on her paws, looking morose. Trixie laughed. Her puppy knew that she was going to be left alone and wasn’t happy about it, but Jim had trained her too well for her to disobey Trixie’s commands. Jenna certainly understood her parents’ occasional wishes for the power to freeze a moment in time so that people she cared for couldn’t be taken away from her.
🔍
Trixie did the grocery shopping, picking up a few of Jim’s favorites—she had to find a way to thank him for the flowers and chocolates. She wondered if she’d found them all yet. She doubted it, knowing Jim. The number would be something clean and sensible. Despite her curiosity, she stopped herself from searching the house, knowing she’d find them over the course of Jim’s conference.
This is a lot easier with my wonderful husband helping, Trixie thought as she hauled the groceries in from her car. At last, all the bags were on the counter. She started unpacking the bags, wishing she was laughing with Jim as they told each other that if they didn’t stop kissing the ice cream would melt.
She reached into a bag and pulled out a package of butter sticks. She opened it, removing one stick to put on the butter tray. She opened the fridge, planning to toss the rest of the package in one of the drawers of the fridge. Her eye was caught by the treat on the middle shelf, a cup of chocolate pudding, crushed Oreos, and gummy worms. Jim had stuck the stem of a daisy into a straw before “planting” it in her dessert.
Trix
Here’s hoping you don’t have to pull the petals off that daisy
to know I love you and I’m missing you. I’d rather be home,
taking you to a place only we could be, and kissing you,
than kissing up to potential donors and colleagues, but duty calls.
Save me a kiss.
Jim
The note was stuck to the front of the glass holding her treat. Trixie decided that when she did eat the treat, she would find a way to leave the flower in the fridge. She knew it would make her smile every time she opened the fridge until it wilted.
🔍
“Trix, you’re limping,” Brian observed as she took her plate to the sink.
“My ankle’s still a little sore,” Trixie admitted as she sat back down.
“What happened to it?” Brian asked.
“Jim and I had a fight Friday night,” Trixie began.
“What did he do to you?” Brian nearly exploded, every bit the older brother looking out for his baby sister.
“Good grief, Bri. Shut up and let her finish,” Mart told him. “They’re married. Married couples fight sometimes. Even Jim and Trixie. You don’t have to jump to conclusions.”
“Thank you, Mart,” Trixie replied. “As I was saying, Jim and I were fighting and I tried to storm off in a pair of heels. I fell and twisted my ankle. Rest assured,” she told Brian with annoyance. “Jim was downstairs at the time and did not push me.”
“Yeah, that’s because he’s knows we’d kill him if he hurt you,” Mart offered.
“Oh, come on, you two,” Di put in. “Jim would never raise a hand against Trixie, older brothers or no older brothers.”
“Turn this way, and let me take a look at that ankle,” Dr. Brian ordered. Trixie rolled her eyes but knew her brother would make her miserable if she didn’t let him, so she didn’t protest when he lifted her foot up onto his knees. “Does that hurt?” Brian asked, pressing on her ankle.
“A little.”
“What about this?” He asked. Trixie shook her head. “It could use a little ice,” Brian told her. “It’ll keep the swelling down. Leave it wrapped up tight for another couple of days.” He gently put her foot down and got up to make her a bag of ice.
“Has Jenna eaten yet?” Moms asked her. “She sat by my feet the entire time I was washing dishes.”
Trixie shook her head. “I forgot to bring kibble for her. I’ll feed her when we get home.”
“We still have some of Reddy’s dog chow,” Moms offered. “Or is she still eating puppy food?”
“She’s still on puppy food, but the vet said we could start mixing in regular food so I’m sure Reddy’s food won’t hurt her, if you want to put some down for her.” Moms nodded and went to the mudroom closet where the dog food was stored.
“Thanks Moms,” Trixie added when Moms set the bowl of kibble on the floor for Jenna. Jenna looked at it longingly but Jim had taught her not to scarf up food without permission, except from her bowl. “That’s yours, Jenna,” Trixie reassured her. “You can eat it.” Jenna wagged her tail and set about her meal.
“She doesn’t eat without a command? Jim is a way better dog trainer than we ever were,” Mart mumbled.
“She’d have eaten at home. He’s just taught her not to go eating things that aren’t in her bowl. Hasn’t he talked to you about it? He’s hoping to use her as a therapy dog at Ten Acres when she’s older.”
“He did mention something like that,” Mart admitted.
🔍
“Do you want me to swing you home?” Brian offered, eyeing her ankle.
Trixie rolled her eyes. “Brian, it’s a good thing Honey finds it so easy to love you, because you make me crazy. I twisted my ankle. I’m perfectly capable of driving myself home. I drove to and from White Plains twice today. I think I can handle the quarter mile home.”
“Well, it could be a bit further than that,” Di offered. “We were going to invite everyone over to our place. We’ve been painting for months,” Di declared dramatically. “I want to show it off.”
Brian double-checked his pager—he was on call for any weekend emergencies at Dr. Ferris’ practice this weekend. Finding no messages waiting for him, he agreed. Dan declined, needing to get to the station for the start of his shift. Honey practically bounced in her seat as she accepted. Trixie smiled at her brother and sister-in-law. “I’ll come. I just need to swing home and drop off Jenna. There’s no telling how long we’ll all hang around your house and I don’t want her to cause any trouble. She’s already missing Jim.”
“Jenna’s welcome,” Mart assured her. “At least for now.”
“Why wouldn’t she be welcome later?” Honey asked, confused. “Jim’s trained her so well; she’s very polite.”
“I know,” Mart reassured her. “But Di’s been begging me for a pet of the small feline variety.”
Trixie grinned. “Knowing Jim, he’d probably be glad to introduce Jenna to a cat and train her to behave, but training Jenna is his area of expertise, so I’ll just be glad I don’t have to worry about her chasing your cat just yet.”
🔍
Trixie and Jenna got back to the house much later than she’d expected. Lunch at the Farm had turned into a Bob-White meeting at Mart and Di’s complete with an impromptu cookie bake off. Trixie had run a few errands, including a stop at the pet store for Jenna’s puppy chow, on her way home and now her stomach was growling.
Unfortunately, Jenna was dancing at the door when Trixie finished unloading the car and made her way up the stairs. Trixie knew she had asked a lot of the puppy with the errand running. As hungry as she was, Trixie knew it wasn’t fair to the puppy to make her wait. “Go for a walk, Jenna?”
Jenna barked once and dashed out the door when Trixie opened it, running across the deck and down into the yard. Trixie followed, pulling the sliding door closed behind her. She walked the puppy for fifteen minutes or so. She knew Jenna would need some serious playtime after dinner, having been expected to behave herself for so much of the day.
Once they’d returned home, Trixie fed Jenna and then rummaged through the cabinets, looking for something quick. She was about to give up and order Chinese when her eyes lit on the box of macaroni and cheese. She reached into the lower cabinet to pull out a pot to cook in. It must be caught on something, Trixie thought when the pot didn’t come out easily. She knelt to see what the problem was.
My Special Girl
I wondered about this one; I know you like take out
and it’s hard to cook for just one person, but I hoped that
at some point this weekend you’d cook for yourself. Guess you did.
It’s so easy loving you like I do, even more than life itself.
Jim
The pot hadn’t come out as easily as it usually did because it was weighted down by a bag of milk chocolate covered almonds and a branch of lilacs. Her eyes a little misty because the sweetness of Jim’s actions touched her, Trixie opened the cabinet that held their serving platters. She’d meant to use the tray with a dip bowl in the middle, but it was missing. Trixie knew she’d find it later in the weekend with a flower in it and something chocolaty around the edges.
Part of her wanted to go hunting for it. Jim had left her a mystery, after all! She wanted to, but she didn’t. She missed Jim fiercely and constantly. Periodically finding his surprises made her smile and think of him. For a few minutes, missing him didn’t hurt quite so badly. If she searched for them all now, she’d have to survive the rest of the weekend on her own.
So, instead of scouring the house, Trixie got down one of the other trays and put the cookies she’d brought home from the Belden Juniors’ on it, as well as a bowl full of the chocolate almonds. She tried to be patient as she waited for the water to boil, mentally recounting the age-old wisdom about a watched pot. A handful of nuts that didn’t fit in the bowl kept her both from starving as her dinner cooked and from going crazy as she impatiently waited.
At last, she was able to take her meal and the lilacs into the dining room to eat.
🔍
By the time Trixie had washed her dishes, played a long game of tug and fetch with Jenna to wear her out, Trixie just wanted to take a shower, put on some cozy pajamas, and curl up in bed with a book. Or maybe a bubble bath with the jets on, Trixie thought as she headed for the master bath. No reason not to treat myself.
Jim had washed their towels while he was packing for the conference, so Trixie found her towel neatly folded on the ledge around the tub. The missing serving platter was on top of it. As Trixie had expected, Jim had repurposed the dip bowl as a vase for a stunning pink water lily. He’d scattered cubes of fudge around the tray.
Babe
I’m so blessed to have you in my life.
I hope you know you were one of the first people
my heart implored me to trust, after everything.
So go ahead and treat yourself when you see this,
Hop in, with the jets on, and enjoy the fudge.
Jim
“If you insist,” she murmured aloud, running water for her bath.
Jenna came into the bathroom, realizing Trixie hadn’t come straight back out. She wagged her tail when she saw the water running. “No way,” Trixie told her with a laugh. “This is my bath. Maybe tomorrow I’ll give you a bath, but tonight I have a date with the jets, some fudge, and some relaxation.”
Jenna’s tail thumped against the floor agreeably. Trixie shook her head. Jenna loved getting a bath. Trixie was grateful for that. Reddy had been a terror at times. Trixie giggled to herself suddenly, wondering how Jim would react when they got it into their heads to take a bath together and Jenna gave him those puppy dog eyes, hoping he was running the bath for her.
Trixie smiled. It’s been a while since we’ve shared a bath, Jim and I, Trixie admitted. The holidays, and having guests at Thanksgiving, had kept them quite busy the past several months. Maybe that should be on the agenda for Jim’s “welcome home,” Trixie thought to herself. She couldn’t wait for that. “I miss you, Jim,” she said aloud as she sank into the warm water. “It’s silly, I know. We spent five years apart and I survived. This is just a little conference.”
As she relaxed in the bath, she wondered if it had anything to do with their fight. Their Friday night squabble hadn’t really been resolved. Usually when they fought, one or the other of them stormed off but then, when they’d both calmed down, they kissed and made up. Instead, Trixie had fallen and they’d set aside the argument in favor of making sure her ankle was okay. It was, of course, but they hadn’t really come to any resolution about their disagreement.
Trixie sighed. She knew Jim was trying to be better about supporting her profession and she knew the thought of losing her still terrified him. When they’d had all the trouble with former Supervisory Agent Brown and Jim’s former stepfather, they’d gotten through it well. Jim had been able to appreciate that it was her job to handle such situations and that she was trained to do so. She had been able to understand how scared he was, how lost and vulnerable he felt.
Two nights ago, there was no case. There was no reason for Jim to fear for her, except that he always did, because everything he loved had been taken from him. Trixie understood that, truly she did. It was just harder to be sympathetic and easier to be annoyed when there was no danger.
And it was easier for Jim to support me professionally when he needed something from me, Trixie thought, her anger stirring. She immediately hated herself for the thought. Jim wasn’t like that. He didn’t support her or not support her just because he needed her, at least not in a using-her sort of way.