The Devine Doughnut Shop(25)

She caught the first elevator going up and got off on the lobby floor. People wearing lanyards and badges that identified them as members of a technical convention were everywhere. She made her way between the groups and went straight to the checkin desk, got in line, and waited for her turn to talk to someone.

That someone turned out to be a middle-aged lady with gray hair slicked back into a bun at the nape of her neck and a name tag identifying her as Linda. “Checking in?” she asked.

“No, ma’am, I’m here to talk to the assistant hotel manager. We have some issues to resolve,” Sarah answered.

“We don’t have an assistant manager, but our manager was just here a few minutes ago.” Linda scanned the lobby and then pointed. “Maybe he can help you find the person you need. There he is, talking to Edward—our technical guy—over there by the elevators. He’s the one with the blue shirt and red tie. You could probably catch him if you hurry.”

Sarah followed the lady’s finger and saw Neal talking to a bald-headed man who looked to be about sixty years old—the only one of the two wearing a tie. She whipped around to face the lady again. “That’s Edward with him, right?”

“Yep, he lives here at the hotel and is on call for any techie problems we have. If that’s what you need to talk to the manager about, you can bypass Mr. Anderson and go straight to Edward. He’ll get you fixed right up,” she said.

“What’s Edward’s last name?” Sarah asked.

“Carlson,” Linda snapped. “Now, if that’s all, I have more customers to take care of. This is a busy time of day.”

“That’s all, and thank you so much.” Sarah made a hasty retreat to the stairs that led down to the parking garage. She whipped out her phone and googled the hotel, pulling up pictures of the staff. There was Edward Carlson, only the name appeared under a picture of Neal. His title—just like the woman had said—was technical engineer.

This should be enough to take to Macy as a start, Sarah thought and took a screenshot of the image. But she took no satisfaction in what she’d found out. To her, it was just proof that Macy’s heart would be shattered, and thinking of that made Sarah want to cry or go back in the hotel and do bodily damage to whoever Neal really was. She wondered how many other aliases the man had had—or, for that matter, how many Darla Jo had burned through since they started on their ten-year mission to buy her dream house on her own private little island. Was Macy’s money supposed to be the final deposit in their account? She got into her truck and drove out of the garage and into the bright sunshine.

The roads were still wet from the downpour, but traffic was light once she cleared San Antonio. Sarah made the thirty-minute drive home without noticing anything around her. Aliens could have dropped out of the sky, and she wouldn’t have even seen them. One scenario after another played out in her head as she thought about how she was going to tell Macy what she had found out. Finally, she turned the radio on to her favorite country station and hoped that the music would soothe the roller coaster of emotions going through her mind.

The DJ said that it was time to start the five-for-five contest. He would play five songs in a row, and the fifth person who called the station with the names of the five artists would win tickets to a Blake Shelton concert in San Antonio. “And to start you off,” he said, “we’ll give you the first one with ‘Goodbye Time’ by Blake himself.”

“Well, that’s an omen for sure.” Sarah kept time to the slow music by tapping her thumbs on the steering wheel.

When she arrived in Devine and parked behind the shop, she still hadn’t figured out a way to start her conversation with Macy. Every breath tightened up her chest even more. The anger she’d felt at the hotel was nothing compared to what was boiling in her heart right then. She carried all the supplies for the next week into the shop, then went on up to the house. Macy was on the porch, with her Bible beside her and her Sunday school lesson-plan book in her lap.

The time had come, but Sarah wished she were back in the truck. She wanted to put it in reverse and simply drive away without even looking back. The storm that had dumped a deluge on their area was nothing compared to the emotional hurricane about to shatter Macy’s heart.

“Like Humpty Dumpty,” Sarah muttered.

Grace came out of the house and sat down on the chaise longue and then waved at Sarah.

“Got to do it,” Sarah muttered and slowly walked up to them.

“Something wrong?” Macy asked.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Grace said before she could answer.

“I kind of did.” Sarah picked up the Bible, laid it on the longue beside Grace, and then sat down on the swing beside Macy. “Macy, we’ve been keeping a secret from you . . .”

“You are scaring me a little bit,” Macy said. “I’ve never heard your tone like it is right now. Did someone die? Please don’t tell me that Claud or Ira or Frankie has passed away.”

“They are fine,” Grace answered. “Are you sure about this, Sarah?”

“Very sure.” Sarah pulled out her phone, tapped it a few times, and handed it to Macy. “This is Edward Carlson. He works as a computer engineer at the hotel where Neal told you that he was working toward being the manager.”

“But that’s not possible. That’s my Neal. They must have gotten the staff pictures and titles all mixed up,” Macy argued.