Page 24 of Sadie’s Highlander (Highland Protector #1)
CHAPTER 23
“ I am honored you thought of me for your one phone call.”
A sharp elbow dug into Sadie’s ribs. “Hey. Wake up. I think that old lady’s talking to you.”
Sadie lifted her head from her bent arm and straightened from the half-curled position in the corner at the end of the bench. Sure enough, her call hadn’t been wasted. She hadn’t figured it would be. Sheer old-lady nosiness alone would’ve brought Miss Martha across state lines just to get a shot at a firsthand telling of what had gone down at Highland Life and Legends. She prided herself on ruling supreme over all things gossipy in Brady. Alec had warned Sadie early on that Miss Martha knew all and wouldn’t hesitate a heartbeat to tell it.
The stern-faced matron stood outside the holding cell, her thin hands clasped tightly across her narrow middle as she eyed Sadie’s cellmates as though they needed to be sprayed down for fleas.
Sadie rose and slowly made her way to the front of the large containment area for offenders waiting to either be picked up, bailed out, or moved to a more permanent arrangement at the New Hanover County Facility. She gripped the cold bars in front of Miss Martha but couldn’t quite make herself look the old woman in the eye. Instead, she stared at the floor, fixing her attention on Miss Martha’s neon-teal running shoes with the lime-green laces that probably glowed in the dark. “Thank you for showing up. I didn’t know anyone else to call.”
“I paid your fine and told them I’d see to it that you made it to court on Monday. I’m not surprised Judge Watson’s getting this settled so fast. I’m thinking he wants Hollywood out of Brady to avoid a rash of homicides.” Miss Martha turned and snapped her fingers at the young officer leaning against the wall, idly tapping the screen of his phone. “Young man! You think you could tear yourself away from that contraption long enough to get this girl out? Time’s a-wasting and I forgot to set my DVR to record them Pretty Little Fibbers . . . or Petty Little Hussies . . . or whatever the blue blazes they’re called. Anyway—get a move on, boy!” She clapped her hands, herding the slow-moving officer into faster gear.
If her world hadn’t just fallen to pieces, Sadie would’ve laughed out loud. Miss Martha might be tiny, but she was just as feisty as her larger twin, Miss Lydia—and nobody in Brady crossed her.
The weight of all she’d lost nearly crushing her, Sadie shuffled out of the cell and down to where the officer had said she could pick up her belongings. She leaned against the steel shelf, staring down at the scratched dip under the window.
Metal plunked against metal as the attendant droned out in a bored tone, “Keys, loose change equaling less than one dollar.”
Sadie bit her lip and held her breath.
The attendant placed her beloved brooch at the edge of the bowl and slid it under the window toward her. “One item of costume jewelry. Pin with one stone intact.”
Sadie reluctantly picked it up, cupping the precious keepsake in her hand and staring down at it as though it could somehow tell her how to make things right again. She sniffed and swallowed hard, blinking back the sting of unshed tears as she shoved her keys and money into the pocket of her jeans. Things would never be right again. Not ever. She needed to move on and accept it. She glanced back down at the pin as she walked along beside Miss Martha. Strange how the silver of the brooch seemed almost tarnished now and the colors of the stone looked sort of washed out and dull.
How appropriate. She’d failed the oath the unique symbol stood for, so now its beauty had left her. “I don’t blame you,” she whispered to the bit of jewelry. “I know I threw everything away.”
“What?” Miss Martha toddled faster and leaned in close, peering over at Sadie and concentrating so hard she squinted. She fluttered her fingers against the back of her ear and shook her head. “I think I need new batteries in my hearing aids. I can’t hear a dratted thing lately.”
“It wasn’t important.” Sadie forced the closest thing she had to a smile across her face and held it until her cheeks ached. Once they reached the parking lot, she held out the brooch to Miss Martha. “Here. Could I ask one more favor of you? Please?”
Miss Martha frowned down at the pin in Sadie’s hand, then shifted her scowl up to Sadie’s face. “What?” Her tone dripped with wariness.
“Could you see that this gets back to . . . its owner?” Sadie cleared her throat, struggling to keep her voice from cracking. One minute at a time . That’s how she would have to get through this—survive one minute at a time. “It needs to be returned to the MacDaras.”
Miss Martha puckered her mouth and kept her hands locked around the short handles of her black patent-leather purse with the faux-alligator-embossed trim.
Sadie took a deep breath and tried again, shoving the pin closer to the old woman. “I don’t have the money right now to pay you back the bail money and the gas it took you to get here, but I should have it by the end of next week.” She swallowed hard, fighting the despair threatening to gag and suffocate her. “I’ve sold quite a few short stories. Serials. I’ve been uploading them to a fan-fiction website. I should get a deposit wired on the fifteenth.”
The weight of the brooch seemed to grow heavier by the minute as Sadie waited for Miss Martha to reach out and take it.
Miss Martha didn’t say a word, just stared at her with a narrow-eyed, puckered look. The old lady’s knobby fingers tightened on the handles of her purse and she still didn’t move to take the brooch.
Sadie barely nudged the edge of the gleaming keepsake against the side of Miss Martha’s hand. “Here. Please take it. There’s a shelter for the homeless behind the church. I’ll stay there until I go to court and see what they’re going to do. I’ll be easy to find, so you won’t have to worry about me skipping town and getting you in trouble. Depending on what my sentence is—if there are any fines or . . . anything—I’ll be out of Brady and out of everyone’s hair as soon as legally possible. So . . . if you could just return this for me, I’d really appreciate it.” She gnawed the corner of her bottom lip, waiting for Miss Martha to take the pin and say something—anything to end the awkward silence.
The elderly woman finally snatched the pin out of Sadie’s fingers and dropped it in her purse. “I’ll take care of it, but you’re makin’ a big mistake, girl. Big mistake.”
“It’s complicated, Miss Martha. More than you will ever know.” She couldn’t explain it in any better detail to the old woman. Alec and his family—hell, the whole town—had to hate her by now and she wouldn’t blame any of them. Especially not Alec. But the least she could do to make amends was to keep the secret of his family’s oath and legacy close to her heart. She could do silent better than anybody. Alec’s secret would go with her to the grave. That’s the least she could do after all she’d destroyed.
“Well . . .” Miss Martha snorted out an impatient huff and nodded with a stiff bob of her head. “I’ll do as you ask and return the brooch to the MacDaras—even though I think you’re making a poor choice—but one thing I will not allow is your living in a shelter. Not when Harold would be more than happy to share his room with you. Sounds like you won’t be needing a place for more than a few days—right? You can earn your keep by cleaning all the other rooms at the bed-and-breakfast and make sure Harold eats like he’s supposed to.”
Harold? Who the devil was Harold? Miss Martha just stood there looking at her. Sadie finally blew out a heavy breath. “I’d be grateful for the room and the job . . . but who is Harold?” Was he some decrepit old man who needed a caretaker?
“My cat.” Miss Martha hissed out an impatient snort and glared at her as though she thought Sadie had lost a marble or two. “You met Harold. You sat there on the porch with him all afternoon the other day.”
“The black cat with one ear?” Poor Harold was older than dirt and looked like he’d seen more alley-cat brawls than his nine lives could handle.
“Of course.” Miss Martha gave Sadie the same perplexed look she’d given her earlier. The old woman clearly thought she was nuts. “Who did you think I was talking about? The goat?”
Sadie remembered the goat Miss Martha kept in the fenced-in yard. That ill-natured animal was more territorial than any professionally trained guard dog. The goat was Miss Martha’s very effective security system. “No. I figured it wasn’t the goat. You wouldn’t keep him inside . . . uhm . . . would you?” The Higgins sisters were a tad quirky. Maybe the goat did have his own room. After all, due to Miss Martha’s benevolence, Sadie was now Harold the one-eared cat’s new roomie.
“Of course not.” Miss Martha blew out a pert hissing sound that clearly reinforced her opinion that a goat inside was absolutely ludicrous. She yanked open the car door and motioned for Sadie to climb in. “Besides—the goat’s name is Walter. Who in the world would name a goat Harold?”