Page 33 of A Tempting Seduction (Protectors of Jasper Creek #5)

Chapter Eighteen

The yellow house on Elm Street buzzed with more energy than I'd seen since the church social last spring.

Cars lined both sides of the narrow street, and I could hear laughter spilling out through the open windows before I even reached the front porch.

Miss Gladiola and Little Grandma had outdone themselves.

I climbed the front steps alone, breathing in the incredible smells drifting from the kitchen.

Ruby had been here since early morning, helping with the prep work and getting to know her mother's family recipes.

Word traveled fast in Jasper Creek, especially when it involved Miss Gladiola's cooking and Little Grandma’s stories.

The front door opened before I could knock, and Little Grandma appeared wearing a flour-dusted apron and a big smile.

She wrapped me in a hug that smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. “Perfect timing. We just pulled the last batch of biscuits from the oven.” Then she yelled for Ruby over her shoulder.

The living room was packed with familiar faces.

Trenda Avery-Clark sat on the sofa with her husband Simon, their seven-year-old daughter Bella perched on the arm beside them while baby Drake slept in his carrier at their feet.

Roan Thatcher occupied the wingback chair near the window, his wife Lisa curled up on the ottoman beside him, her hands still bearing faint traces of motor oil despite obvious scrubbing.

“Ford!” Bella launched herself off the sofa arm and barreled toward me. “Did you bring your measuring tape? Mom said you might show me how to measure boards for the treehouse.”

I ruffled her dark hair. “I might have one in my truck. But shouldn't you be helping with the cooking?”

“I got kicked out of the kitchen,” Bella announced with zero shame. “Apparently, I'm too enthusiastic with the flour.”

Lisa laughed. “That's code for she dumped half a bag on the floor trying to measure it herself.”

“It was an accident,” Bella protested.

Simon stood and shook my hand. “Good to see you, Ford. Ruby’s in the kitchen,” he said knowingly.

“Any progress on Ruby's situation?” I asked quietly.

“Some,” Roan said getting up from his chair. “We've been digging into the California connections. Found some interesting patterns.”

His tone was deliberately vague, but I caught the meaningful look he exchanged with Simon.

They'd been working on Ruby's case for the past week, though we hadn't heard much about their progress.

Ruby had insisted we not discuss it in detail today, wanting one afternoon where we could just be normal people at a normal gathering.

I watched Lisa and Trenda disappear into the kitchen. That was clearly where all the action was. I grinned. The sound of multiple conversations and clinking dishes created a comfortable backdrop of domestic chaos.

“Beer is in the cooler on the back porch,” Simon said. “Or Little Grandma's got sweet tea that'll put you in a sugar coma.”

“Beer sounds good.”

I followed him through the house toward the back porch, passing the kitchen where at least six women were working in choreographed harmony. Ruby stood at the counter beside Miss Gladiola, both of them studying a yellowed recipe card with intense concentration.

“Something about this doesn't look right,” Ruby was saying. “The temperature says 194 degrees, but that can't be right for cake.”

Miss Gladiola adjusted her glasses. “That's what I thought, too. Maybe we’re reading the handwriting wrong?”

“Or maybe it's in Celsius?” suggested Patti Magill, Little Grandma's daughter. At seventy-seven, she still moved around the kitchen with the efficiency of someone half her age.

“194 Celsius would be about 380 Fahrenheit,” said Lettie, Patti's daughter and Little Grandma's granddaughter. “That makes more sense.”

I grabbed my beer and rejoined the conversation in the living room, but part of my attention stayed tuned to the kitchen discussions. Ruby had been excited about today for weeks, looking forward to cooking her mother's recipes with women who'd known her family.

“Ford,” Bella appeared at my elbow again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you think Ruby's gonna marry you?”

The question came out of nowhere and hit me like a two-by-four to the chest. Every conversation in the room seemed to pause, though that might have been my imagination. Florence Horton was staring at me, and Zoe Avery was fighting back a laugh.

“Bella,” Simon rolled his eyes at me and shook his head. I could tell he was kind of amused, still, he did look down at the girl who was his daughter in all but blood. “That's not polite to ask.”

“Why not? Everyone's thinking it,” Bella said with the brutal honesty of a seven-year-old. “Mom said Ruby makes Ford smile different than he used to.”

Heat crept up my neck. “It's complicated, kiddo.”

“Grown-ups always say that when they don't want to answer questions,” Bella said. “But it's not complicated. Either you want to marry her, or you don't.”

Simon choked on his beer. “Bella, maybe we should talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like how you're going to help me fix the loose board on the front porch,” Roan said, saving me from further interrogation.

Bella's attention immediately shifted. “Can I use the hammer?”

“We'll see.”

“That’s another thing grown-ups say when they don’t want to answer a question. We’ll see means no.” Bella huffed and sat down cross-legged in front of the baby carrier and started playing with her brother. That kid didn’t miss a trick. Yep, I wanted only boys. Nothing but boys.

The kitchen erupted in laughter, drawing my attention back to the women. Through the doorway, I could see them gathered around the table, passing recipe cards back and forth and talking animatedly. I wandered over to see what all the ruckus was about.

“Oh shit,” I heard Ruby say suddenly from the kitchen, followed immediately by, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to swear in your kitchen, Miss Gladiola.”

Bella raced to the kitchen, “Miss Ruby, you owe me a dollar for the swear.”

“Bella, we discussed this, honey. You’re too old for this schtick,” Trenda said with a mother’s sweet, firm voice.

“Okay, Mama. But she still shouldn’t swear.”

“You’re right, Bella. I shouldn’t. Maybe you can start training your little brother when he learns to talk.”

I watched as the little girl’s eyes lit up. “I could help him. On any dollars I got for him, maybe I could get a part of it.”

I almost busted a gut. “Sh—” I stopped myself before saying shit. The Avery family had it going on.

“Now, why is it you were swearing, Ruby?” Miss Gladiola asked.

I tilted my head to listen.

“I just realized something. Ford, can you get Simon and Roan in here?” Ruby called out.

“On it, beautiful.”

I motioned for Simon and Roan to come into the kitchen. When they were standing beside their wives, Ruby started to speak.

“I screwed up. I told you that I didn’t bring anything but clothes and things like my toothbrush when I left town and my identity papers and cash.

I was just thinking about what Dad gave me.

But I also brought my mom’s journals and her recipe box.

I've had them this whole time, and it never occurred to me that Dad might have left me information in them.”

Simon immediately perked up. “Ruby, that's excellent news. If your father was trying to leave you clues, he might have hidden them in your mother's things.”

“I really want to get my hands on those journals,” Roan added, moving to Ruby. “There could be notes in the margin, anything your father added after your mother died.”

Miss Gladiola shook her head. “I've read them front to back, boys. Every single page. It's all Edith's handwriting, and there's nothing there about corruption or politics or anything dangerous. Just a mother writing about her daily life and her love for her family.”

Simon and Roan's faces fell, and Ruby looked crestfallen.

“Gladdie, what about the recipe box?” Little Grandma asked.

Ruby perked up. “You’re right. I should have thought of that. Ruby hurried to retrieve the wooden recipe box from where she'd set it on the counter. The box was held together with rubber bands that had probably been there for decades, and the top was carved with delicate flowers.

“Ma'am,” Simon said respectfully, “you might have just solved our puzzle.”

Simon picked up the wooden recipe box and studied it carefully. “Roan, come look at this.”

Roan moved closer as Simon pointed to something on the bottom of the box. “Feel this.”

Roan ran his fingers along the bottom panel. “There's something here. It feels like...”

“A false bottom,” Simon finished. “Ruby, do you mind if we try to open this?”

Ruby nodded eagerly. “Do whatever you need to do.”

Roan and Simon worked together, carefully probing the edges of the wooden box until they found a small release mechanism. The bottom panel slid away, revealing a hidden compartment.

Inside was a single folded piece of paper.

Ruby's hand shook as she reached for it. The paper was crisp and white, clearly much newer than the aged recipe cards above it. She unfolded it carefully, revealing typed text in what looked like her father's precise handwriting.

“What does it say?” Miss Gladiola asked gently.

Ruby's voice was barely a whisper as she read aloud.

“Ruby, if you're reading this, then I've failed to protect you and you're in danger. Find the key to safety deposit box 947 at First National Bank of Beverly Hills. With your ID and the codes, you can get in and get all the proof you need. Hand it over to Special Agent In Charge, Glenn Isaacson, out of the Los Angeles FBI office. He’s building a case. Angel, I know you’ll find the information you need to get into the box. Trust no one from our old life. I love you more than words can say. Dad.”

The kitchen was dead silent.

“What is he talking about?” Ruby cried out. “How will I find the information I need?” I could see she was on the brink of falling apart.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” I put my arms around her and pulled her against my chest. She gripped the front of my shirt.

Then Little Grandma, who had gone back to cooking, paused in her stirring. She snapped her fingers with the sharp crack of inspiration.

“Wait a minute,” she said, setting down the spoon. “What about the recipes themselves? I swear to God, some of these recipes just flat out don’t make any sense.”

“Show us,” Simon looked at the old woman with an expression of awe.

Little Grandma reached in and pulled out three specific cards. “These three. The measurements are all wrong. Look at this one. Normal recipe for brownies, but then it says to bake at 594 degrees for 37 minutes.”

Miss Gladiola picked up another card. “This one's even stranger. 'Apple pie: 6 apples, 1/2 cup sugar, but bake at 223 degrees for 11 minutes.' That would never work.”

Little Grandma studied the third card. “Chocolate cake. Normal ingredients, but the temperature is 156 degrees, and the time is 29 minutes.”

Simon and Roan exchanged a look that spoke volumes.

“Ruby,” Simon said carefully, “what's the handwriting like on these cards?”

Ruby examined them closely. “These are all written in my dad's handwriting. He never cooked. And he sure as hell never baked anything. This has to have been what he was talking about.” Her eyes were bright and she was bouncing on her toes.

“Oh my God,” Ruby breathed. “All this time, the answers were right here.”

Simon immediately understood what the numbers meant. “The wrong ingredient amounts and temperatures and times on those three recipe cards. They're not random numbers. They're the combination to the safety deposit box.”

“594-37, 223-11, 156-29,” Roan read from the cards. “That's an eighteen-digit number.”

“Ruby, this is exactly what we needed. Your father left you a roadmap to evidence that could protect you and potentially bring down the entire corruption network.” Simon grinned.

Ruby looked around the kitchen at all the faces watching her with love and support. Tears were in her eyes, but she was smiling.

“I can't believe it,” she said. “I've been carrying the key to everything with me for two years, and I never knew it.”

Little Grandma reached over and patted Ruby's hand. “Sometimes the most important things hide in plain sight until we're ready to see them.”

“What happens now?” Ruby asked, looking between Simon and Roan.

“Now we plan a trip to Beverly Hills,” Simon said. “Very carefully and very quietly. If what's in that safety deposit box is as significant as I think it is, we need to be prepared for anything.”

“But I don't have a key,” Ruby said. “How do I get into the box?”

“This code is your key. As long as you have your Ruby Banks ID.”

“I do,” she answered. “I just couldn’t seem to throw it away. That was probably stupid.”

“No, it is perfect.” Roan assured her.

“I’m going with you,” I said, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. “Whatever's in that box, whatever comes next, we're in this together.”

Ruby turned to me, her eyes bright with tears and something that looked like hope. “Are you sure? This could get dangerous.”

“I'm sure,” I said, taking her hand. “We're a team, remember?”

She smiled, the first real smile I'd seen from her all day. “Yeah. We're a team.”

Simon and Roan exchanged another look, this one filled with what I could only describe as professional satisfaction.

“Well then,” Simon said. “Looks like we've got some travel planning to do. Meet us at Onyx Security.”

The kitchen erupted in conversation again as everyone began talking about what this discovery might mean. But I only had eyes for Ruby, whose face had transformed from worry to determination.

Whatever was waiting for us in that safety deposit box, whatever dangers lay ahead, we'd face them together. And for the first time since Lance Leeds had shown up in Jasper Creek, I felt like we were finally getting ahead of the threat instead of just reacting to it.

Ruby Miller had been running for two years. But Ruby Banks was ready to fight back.

And she wouldn't be fighting alone.