pastries?”
The belligerence in his tone surprised him and startled her, if her widened eyes were any indication. Still, her gaze never wavered.
“Initially,” Ami admitted. “But I kept coming because I enjoy having coffee and conversation with you.”
Beck exhaled a harsh breath. He shouldn’t care this much. It felt like a betrayal to Lisette.
“I enjoy it, too.” Despite his reservations, he took a step closer, his gaze firmly fixed on her. “I wouldn’t let you in the door every morning if I didn’t.”
She laughed. “So if I come one morning and the door is locked, I can surmise I’m no longer welcome?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Beck said gruffly and took a step closer.
The air between them pulsed with so much energy, he was surprised sparks weren’t visible.
He’d have wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him if the honk from a car horn hadn’t caused them both to jump. Only then did Beck realize they were standing in the middle of the road.
Beck cupped Ami’s elbow in his hand and maneuvered them closer to the curb. The driver in the white Impala gave a friendly wave as he drove past.
Ami returned the wave, then pointed. “The Lohmeiers live down that street. Third house on the left.”
For the first time Beck noticed fields of snow on one side had given way to streets lined with ramshackle houses. Because none of the sidewalks had been cleared, they continued to walk in the street. This time they stuck near the curb. Though it was early, the lights were on in the Lohmeier house. Like most of the homes surrounding it, the residence was a white, single-story frame home with a stoop rather than a front porch. The garage, detached from the house, listed visibly to one side.
“What’s the situation here?” Though there was no one outside at this hour, Beck kept his voice low.
“Cassie Lohmeier lives here with her three kids. We went to school together. She was several years older than me. Her sister, Lindsay, was in my class.”
Something in her voice put Beck on alert. He suspected she had more history with this family than she was saying. “Are you and Cassie well acquainted?”
“I knew her more as a child, not so much as an adult. She got pregnant at fifteen, went on to have two more kids by another guy before they split. Clint Gourley is her latest live-in. He’s on disability for his back after a motorcycle crash in October.”
Beck filed away the information. “Does Cassie work?”
“She’s pregnant with her fourth and has been experiencing complications.” Ami’s voice betrayed no emotion or judgment. “A neighbor mentioned food was in short supply to Calvin, hence the basket.”
“Other than her sister, does she have any other family in the area?” From what he’d observed, most of the families in the area were tight-knit and supportive.
“Anita Fishback is her mother.”
Beck stilled as the name registered. “Your father’s girlfriend is related to Cassie?”
“Anita isn’t his girlfriend.” Ami spoke sharply, then immediately appeared to calm herself. “Sorry.”
Just when Beck thought he had everything figured out, someone tossed a curveball. “So Anita’s pregnant daughter needs a charity food basket.”
“The Giving Tree is not charity,” Ami reminded him.
“Neighbors helping neighbors, yeah, I remember. But why does she need help? Her mother is a successful business owner and—”
“Anita cut Cassie out of her life,” Ami told him. “As far as I know, the two haven’t spoken in years.”
Beck slowed his steps. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure.”
“C’mon, Ami. You know everything that goes on in this community.”
From the look of hurt on her face, Beck realized it was the absolutely wrong thing to say.
“I’m not a busybody, Beck.” She snapped the words, her face flushed bright red.
“I never said you were.” Beck kept his voice matter-of-fact. “But you are well connected. And you’ve