Harbor Street (Cedar Cove #5)(35)

“Mom,” Linnette whined. “Tell me.”

“Sorry, I was thinking.” She sighed. “At work during the last few weeks I’ve been getting an inordinate number of hang-ups.”

“What do you mean?” Linnette asked. “You pick up the phone and the person on the other end slams down the receiver?”

“No. But he or she doesn’t say anything and then disconnects as soon as I start to ask who’s there.”

“What about caller ID?”

“That’s interesting. The calls are coming from pay phones in different parts of the county. There was even one from Seattle.”

“Pay phones,” Linnette repeated slowly.

“Your father isn’t amused.”

“I can’t imagine that he is,” her daughter murmured. “Whoever’s doing this certainly gets around.”

“So it seems. And then—” Corrie stopped abruptly. She hadn’t meant to let this other part slip.

Linnette was too observant not to notice. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Hands clenching the steering wheel, Corrie nodded. “Wednesday afternoon, your father and I left the office early. Shortly after we got home, Willows, Weeds and Flowers made a delivery to the house.”

“The local florist?”

Corrie nodded. “Someone sent us a gorgeous floral arrangement for our Thanksgiving centerpiece.”

“Who?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“It wasn’t on the table.”

“I know…Your father didn’t want anything to do with it. We didn’t have that arrangement one minute before he was on the phone, trying to find out who sent it. Apparently it came as an order from another florist. Your dad was out the door before I could stop him.” He’d left her to worry for nearly two hours while he tried to track down this lead.

“Did he learn anything?”

“Not much. But I doubt your father will let it drop that easily.”

“What did he learn?”

Corrie had been curious herself and it’d taken a good hour to get the information out of him. In the end, he’d told her. “He said whoever sent the flowers paid cash and apparently used a florist in another town. When he questioned the other shop, the person who’d taken the order had already gone home. No one there remembered anyone not paying with a credit card.” She shook her head. “He’ll probably follow up tomorrow, if he can get hold of that employee.”

Linnette took a moment to digest this information. “What happened to the flowers?”

“Your father told me to get rid of them.”

“Did you?”

Linnette smiled. “Sort of. I brought them down to the Cedar Cove Convalescent Center that night. They were thrilled to have them.”

“That was a very considerate thing to do.”

“It was either that or watch your father have a conniption.”

As if the thought had just occurred to her, Linnette asked, “Was there a card attached?”

“Yes…” The gift card had infuriated Roy even more than the delivery itself. The person sending the flowers was taunting them. One look and her husband had torn it in half and tossed it in the garbage. After he’d left, Corrie retrieved the ripped card. “It said Guess Who?”

Linnette let out a low whistle. “I’ll bet that infuriated Dad.”

“It sure did,” Corrie said grimly. “I don’t know what to expect next—from our mysterious stalker or your father.”

Eighteen

Cecilia had never seen Allison so nervous. She’d been up and down a dozen times in the half hour since she’d arrived at the office after school.

“Did my dad tell you when he expected to be back?” she asked Cecilia for the third time, jumping up from her chair again.

“No, I’m sorry, he didn’t.” That, too, was unusual. If Mr. Cox was going to be away for an extended period, he always let Cecilia know. Judging by the way Allison was behaving, Cecilia figured that wherever her employer was, it concerned his teenage daughter. And that probably meant it had something to do with Anson.

“What time is it, anyway?” Allison glared at her watch. “He should be back by now.” She sat down again.

“Back from where? Does this involve Anson?” Cecilia asked quietly.

The color drained from Allison’s face. “What makes you think that?”

“How long have I known you, Allison? Two years? Three? You haven’t been this anxious about anything in all that time. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” To Cecilia’s shock, the girl covered her face with both hands and burst into tears.

Cecilia placed an arm around her shoulders. “Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s go into your father’s office.” She steered Allison inside, then shut the door.

Allison slumped into the chair in front of her dad’s desk, and Cecilia dragged its twin close. Reaching into her pocket, she handed the girl a clean tissue, which Allison crumpled into a tight ball.

“You’re right,” Allison admitted. “This does have to do with Anson. He got into—he did something he shouldn’t have. Afterward, he felt really bad about it and didn’t know what to do, so he came to me.”