A Justified Murder (Medlar Mystery #2)(39)

Charlene lived in tiny, rural Southwest Ranches, a place that used to be all small farms. But rich people had bought most of the land, torn down the little farmhouses, and put up mansions.

Stirling Road, which ran through the area, had a speed limit so low that runners were faster than the cars. But children on horses, sauntering tortoises, and families of ducks took precedence over motorized vehicles.

Charlene’s house was set back off the road, down a quarter-mile driveway that was full of potholes. Compared to the neighbors, her house was small. Jack had remodeled and expanded the original farmhouse, and the old-world Spanish exterior was lovely. When they arrived, Charlene was inside on the phone, so Jack took them around. He tried to not let his pride show but Kate and Sara saw it.

Close to the house was an L-shaped building with a deep, shady courtyard surrounded by fruiting citrus trees in big pots. Jack said it was Charlene’s studio and he’d let her show it.

The chicken coop was like a small house. It had two doors in front, each one leading into its own fenced area.

“When the grass on one side is worn down, Charlene switches to the other side,” Jack said. He sounded proud.

The screen house was sixty feet long, with beds that were full of a large variety and color of salad plants. “Charlene sells to top restaurants all over the city.”

He walked ahead of the women. Kate whispered, “He sure does like her, doesn’t he?”

“It appears so.” Sara seemed as surprised as Kate was.

There was a pond, some trees, and behind a copse of trees was what had to be the cutest barn ever built. It was small, with a steeply pitched roof and a covered area to one side. Inside were two stalls and wide double doors that opened at both ends. A mare recognized Jack and trotted out of a shady, fenced area to snuggle her head against his shoulder. He pulled an apple from his pocket and held it out to her as he stroked her head.

Kate and Sara stood back, watching with raised eyebrows. He certainly seemed at home here!

Jack grabbed a shovel and began cleaning out a stall—something he seemed to have done before—and Sara started snapping photos.

Kate wandered outside and looked around. She was admiring the pond, looking at the fish swimming just below the surface, when she saw a woman walk from the house to the studio.

She was about Kate’s height and had long dark hair pulled into a twist at the back of her neck. A little ornament in her hair caught the sunlight and glittered. She had on black linen trousers, flat sandals with tiny straps, and a green T-shirt. She was slim and lithe and moved like she’d had some dancing training.

Sometimes in life you see a person and think, I like her. Or him. But with men it was usually the ol’ sexual attraction.

With this woman it was just a feeling of like.

Kate hurried around the pond and caught her before she opened the door to the studio. “Hi.”

When she turned, Kate saw a pretty woman, younger than she thought she’d be. Her skin was lovely.

“I’m Kate Medlar.” She held out her hand to shake.

“Charlene Adams.” She shook Kate’s hand warmly. “Jack never shuts up about you.”

Kate was surprised at that. “I didn’t know he was here that often.”

“Nearly every Friday. He’s in love with Belle.”

“Oh?”

“Our horse.” Charlene was looking at Kate in speculation.

“There’s nothing between Jack and me,” Kate said. “I mean—”

“I know. He told me.” She opened the door to the studio. “Would you like to see where I work?”

“I would love to.”

The inside of Charlene’s studio was like Santa’s workshop. It was a long space with a tiny powder room to the side. Huge north-facing windows had a worktable beneath.

There were miniature houses everywhere. Victorians, French chateaus, southwest adobe style, Nantucket houses with their widows’ walks. Some houses were half-finished, some seeming to just need paint. All of them had holes and perches for birds to enter.

“Wow” was all Kate could think to say.

“You can see how far behind I am.” Across the room was a giant bulletin board with photos and drawings attached to letters. “People write to me asking me to please make a birdhouse like their home. Those photos are ones I have to get to.”

Kate looked at huge shelves divided into cubbyholes full of materials. Tools were on a pegboard. A band saw was in the middle of the room. There was a painting booth with goggles hanging at the corner. “I’d like to help.”

Charlene laughed. “You have enough to do. I’m sure—” She saw that Kate was serious. “That would be nice. Tell me, is Jack cleaning out the stables?”

“Yes.”

“Oh dear. He does take on responsibility. And he loves to let me know my husband doesn’t know one end of a horse from another. But Aunt Tayla gave Belle to my sons and...” She shrugged. “What could I do?”

“I can tell you hate your little farm.”

“Oh yes.”

They laughed together.

“Would you be willing to help me make two big pitchers of lemonade? The boys will be home from school soon and Jack can drink half a gallon at one sitting so...”

Kate was realizing how familiar Jack was with this family, but he’d never mentioned them. Had he meant to keep them as his own secret? Or was it just that this was none of Kate’s business? “Sure. I’d love to.”