Free Hollyhock Ridge by Pamela Grandstaff Page A

Scott and Maggie
are on their honeymoon.”
    “I’ll put yer clothes in a garbage bag and leave ’em on the
back porch,” Melissa said. “That way maybe the neighbors won’t see.”
    “Thank you,” Claire said. “I owe you so big.”
    “No biggie,” Melissa said. “Just tell me, what’s Ed’s excuse
for knockin’ up his ex-wife?”
    Claire told Melissa what she knew.
    “I don’t know anything else about it,” Claire said. “I
hadn’t come back to Rose Hill yet, so it’s not like he was cheating on me. It
was probably just one of those things that happens. Sex with an ex.”
    “It might not even be his,” Melissa said.
    “That’s what I think.”
    “I hardly know the woman,” Melissa said, “but Patrick said
she hit on him real hard way back when she first moved here with Ed. He said he
weren’t the only one, neither. I kinda doubt she’s been going without all these
years. Ed may not be that baby’s daddy, but it might be better for her to say
he is.”
    “If the real father’s married, or her boss.”
    “She’s a fancy news reporter now; thinks she’s famous ’cause
she’s on the TV,” Melissa said. “It would probably be better if the baby’s
daddy was the man she was married to instead of whatever gray cat she done
hooked up with.”
     
    Melissa dropped off a most interesting ensemble that Claire
would not have put together, but she could hardly complain. After she got
dressed, Claire put her previous night’s clothes in the same bag and stuffed
them in the garbage can on her way out the back door, where she immediately ran
into Pudge’s wife, Ruthie Postlethwaite. Ruthie was walking their little dog up
the alley, almost as if she had been doing so repeatedly in order to catch
Claire leaving the house.
    “Good morning,” Ruthie said with a smirk. “Late night last
night?”
    “Yep,” Claire said, as she felt her face flush. “I guess
Pudge told you.”
    “He said you really tied one on,” Ruthie said. “I guess I
can’t blame you after finding out about Ed’s wife that way.”
    “Oh, I knew he was married,” Claire said. “Ed and I were
only ever just friends.”
    “Kind of like you and Chief Purcell are friends?”
    “No matter what it looks like, we’re just friends,” Claire
said. “I had a little too much to drink last night, and Chief Purcell looked
after me, that’s all.”
    “He’s married, too, I guess you know.”
    “Nope, he’s divorced now,” Claire said.
    “Well, that’s a sight better,” Ruthie said. “Although it
doesn’t look too good, you sneaking out the back door like that.”
    “Then I’ll just have to count on you not to spread gossip
about me,” Claire said. “On account of there’s nothing going on.”
    Ruthie lifted an eyebrow but did not affirm that intention.
    “I guess you heard all about Diedre disappearing,” she said
instead. “The police are involved now.”
    “I did,” Claire said. “Is Marigold telling people Kay had
something to do with it?”
    “She’s not coming right out and saying it,” Ruthie said.
“She’s just implying it; you know how folks like that are.”
    “I certainly do,” Claire said, waved good-bye, and headed
off in the other direction.
     
    Claire went home to change clothes, and before she left
again, she chugged a tall glass of water, took another couple aspirin, and put a
sleeve of soda crackers in her purse for later.
    In front of Sean’s new family law office, up on Rose Hill
Avenue next to the book store, Claire’s ex-husband, Pip Deacon, was sitting on
the sidewalk, smoking a joint. He wore white painter overalls, work boots, and
nothing else. With his long golden dreadlocks and tanned muscular arms, he
looked and smelled the part of the beach bum pothead he had always aspired to
be.
    “You’re late,” he said. “I’m charging Sean from the time I
show up here.”
    “You’re not fooling anyone,” Claire said as she unlocked the
door. “No one palms a tobacco