"Is Mr. Farmer treating us again?" Cooper asked as she loaded her toolbox into the back of the van and closed the double doors.

"Yes, ma'am! That makes two times this week. He's been mighty friendly to me, too. Brought me a pack of gum Monday, a candy bar yesterday, and this mornin' he brought me a little pumpkin with a painted face. It's the cutest thang."

Cooper pulled herself into the van's high driver seat. "I guess you managed to make him jealous."

"Reckon so." Angela sounded smug.

"So what now?" Cooper tried to refrain from sounding judgmental. "You wanted Mr. Farmer to pay attention to you and he is. I don't see him getting the rest of us little tokens of affection. Are you going to keep flirting with Emilio?"

"It depends where that gold G.o.diva box Emilio brought with him to work ends up. If I find it on my desk sometime today, then I know he's interested and hey, I might as well give him a try." Angela sighed theatrically. "Maybe then Mr. Farmer will see that he shouldn't have waited so long to decide whether or not he wants me."

"How do you know Emilio's got chocolates with him?" Cooper adjusted her phone headset as she turned onto Broad Street.

"Oh, I just happened to peek in his bag before he went out to empty the shredder boxes."

"Angela!"

"I just wanted to see what cologne he wears," Angela protested innocently. "He always smells so good."

Cooper pulled into a strip mall and found a s.p.a.ce for the van at the far end of the parking lot. "I've got to go. I'm at the restaurant."

After collecting their order, she returned to the office and laid out the lunches in the break room. As she leaned over to place a pile of napkins on the far side of the table, Emilio entered the room and greeted her enthusiastically.

Cooper swung around and immediately blushed. "Oh, hi. I didn't hear you come in"

"Can I help you set the table?" he offered gallantly. "Because there's somethin' I'd like to give you when you're done."

Pretending to be too busy arranging plastic cutlery to meet Emilio's eyes, Cooper mumbled, "Oh, yeah?"

Emilio sidled closer. "Some chocolate-covered cherries. They smell sweet and melt in your mouth. And they're the best, because some women deserve only the best." His voice had become deep and husky.

Cooper could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She tried not to grimace as his musky cologne nearly overpowered her nostrils. "That's really nice of you, Emilio," she answered, still refusing to look at him. "But you really shouldn't get me anything. We're just coworkers."

Emilio placed his hands over his heart. "But we could be so much more." His words sounded like a low growl. "Did you like that perfume I got you? Are you wearing it right now?"

Feeling trapped in the small kitchen, Cooper prayed for some way to escape from Emilio's hulking presence, but her well-built coworker kept inching toward her until she was backed up against the cabinets with no retreat in sight.

"Look." Cooper held her hand out in front of her. "I'm kind of seeing someone, Emilio."

"I know all about him, but if you were with that guy, you wouldn't say 'kinda.' He must not be treatin' you like the queen you are, but I will. Go out with me this Friday and I'll show you what it's like to be with a man who really understands what a fine prize you are. What do you say, babe?"

Shocked, Cooper realized that Emilio intended to kiss her. Spurred by panic, she ducked under his arm and popped up behind his back, twitching like a hunted rabbit. At that moment, Angela and Ben stepped into the room. They paid no attention to their coworkers already in the kitchen. Angela was good-naturedly berating Ben for lapses in his paperwork and he rolled his eyes in exaggerated annoyance.

"Well, I'm starvin'!" Angela declared once she had finished with Ben and sat down, unaware of the charged air within the room.

Ben seemed to sense that something was amiss, for he threw a questioning gaze at Cooper before dumping a mound of tortilla chips on the lid of his takeout container. "Is there any salsa?" He searched inside one of the paper bags sitting in the center of the table. Cooper lurched toward her seat-eager to create more distance between herself and Emilio-and popped the lid off one of two salsa containers and handed it to Ben.

"You're gonna need an extra workout after that lunch," Angela said and pointed at Ben's loaded plate with her fork.

"This is the only decent meal I eat," Ben mumbled as Emilio sat down next to Cooper.

"Doesn't your wife cook?" Emilio asked. "I won't marry a woman who doesn't know her way around a kitchen."

Ben glared at Emilio. "Let's just say my wife's not feeling up to cooking these days."

"Men are perfectly able to make their own meals anyhow." Angela directed her comment to Emilio. "You're a bachelor. What do you do for supper?"

"I buy it!" Emilio laughed. " 'Til I can get me a girlfriend who will fry me up a nice steak, it's all takeout for this man."

Angela dabbed at her crimson lips with a napkin and leaned on her elbows as she gave Emilio an appraising look. "So when you find this girlfriend, what else are you gonna have her cook for you besides steak?"

Emilio pulled at a string of cheese protruding from the edge of his beef enchilada and shrugged. "Stuff my mom made. You know, Italian stuff. Lasagna, veal Parmigianino, gnocchi, cannoli. None of this Southern fried chicken and grits; I can't stand that kind of food."

Angela bristled. Cooper knew that the perky secretary prided herself on the perfection of her fried chicken.

"What if she can't cook like your mama?" Ben inquired.

Emilio pulled another long strand of cheese from his fork, twisted it around his index finger, and pushed it into his mouth with a laugh. "There's lots of fish in the sea, right? And I'll do anythin' for a woman who takes care of me. That's how a good partners.h.i.+p works, right, my man?" He knocked Ben's arm with his elbow, causing his uniform sleeve to submerge in a puddle of guacamole.

"Well, good luck finding a woman who'll slave for you twenty-four/seven!" Angela stood up from the table and gave her chair an angry shove backward.

"Oh, I've already got the perfect lady in mind." Emilio smiled enigmatically.

Cooper also rose and tossed the remainder of her lunch in the garbage.

"Where are you goin'?" Emilio inquired with concern. "Somethin' wrong with your food? Want me to get you somethin' else?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry anymore," Cooper a.s.sured him hastily. Hurrying to the restroom, she washed her hands and then paused at her locker, almost afraid to look inside. She opened it a hesitant crack, but even the weak fluorescents overhead were sufficient enough to illuminate the gold G.o.diva box.

"Oh, no," Cooper moaned and slammed the locker shut. She quickly left the room and headed for the front door, thinking that she had never been so eager to perform maintenance on the machines awaiting her at a medical office park across town.

Angela waved a piece of pink memo paper at Cooper with her left hand while holding the phone against her shoulder and taking notes with her right.

She looks cross, Cooper thought. She mouthed a thank-you at Angela and examined the message. It was from Trish. Angela had taken down the Realtor's cell phone number and made it clear that Cooper should return the call ASAP.

Donning her headset once again, Cooper hopped into the van and called Trish.

"You're the last one I needed to get a hold of," Trish began. "I called Lali to see what happened on Sat.u.r.day and it's a good thing I did. The police have nothing to go on because Mr. Crosby wouldn't talk to them. I mean, the man didn't say a single word, he just waved them away so he could watch TV. Despite his lack of cooperation, the officers also paid visits to all the folks who claim to have had things stolen from their homes."

"Oh, good," Cooper said, heading for the interstate in hopes of avoiding the hundreds of traffic lights on Broad Street.

"No, not good," Trish countered. "Apparently, all of the victims have suffered memory lapses over the last six months."

Cooper scowled as a minivan eased into her lane without bothering to signal. "So?"

"So they don't make very reliable witnesses," Trish explained impatiently. "Basically, the police told Lali that there's not much they can do until more proof of a crime can be provided."

"Oh, dear." Cooper was discouraged. "I was hoping they'd figure out who was responsible for all these bad things and we wouldn't have to get involved."

"Well, they're not doing anything else, but we're going to."

Instantly anxious, Cooper pressed down on the gas pedal and the van lumbered forward in the center lane, gaining on a yellow bus from one of the county's elementary schools. "What do you have in mind?" Cooper asked and then frowned as children sitting in the back seats pressed their faces against the gla.s.s and began contorting them for her benefit.

"We're having our potluck party. This Sat.u.r.day evening at the Deep Run Park Recreation Center. Can you bring one of your mama's wonderful desserts? I'm in charge of the wine."

Cooper was thrown for a loop by that statement. "Can you even drink wine at the park?"

"I'm getting a temporary alcohol permit. We're going to need the wine, Cooper. We've got to loosen some tongues."

"It's kind of short notice, Trish," Cooper remarked as she exited the highway. "Do you think all the volunteers will come?"

"We only need the ones who work Fridays or Sat.u.r.days."

"Why?"

"Because the missing items were always found after a weekend and Lali let something else slip." Trish paused to build suspense. "The folks who died this summer were all declared dead on a Sat.u.r.day or Sunday. That means someone's been messing with the clients on a Friday or Sat.u.r.day."

Cooper tried to digest Trish's logic. "Still, do you think everyone will show up just for a potluck?"

"I know they will," Trish affirmed. "Lali gave me their numbers and I've been on the phone all afternoon. They're all coming-probably because I made a big deal of emphasizing that it was an appreciation dinner in their honor and that someone was going to win two tickets to Hairspray at the Landmark Theater. How could they say no?" Trish sounded harried, but pleased. "The only one I can't reach is Leo. Seems he doesn't have a phone at the moment."

"He's the one I'd least expect to see at this dinner."

"Oh, he's going!" Trish declared. "If I've got to tie him up and carry him on my shoulders, he's going."

Cooper laughed at the image Trish's words conjured. "Then I'd better make some extra pumpkin bars. Leo looks like he could pack away some food."

"Let's just hope that's all he's packing," Trish muttered.

"Trish," Cooper admonished. "You've got to stop watching so much Law & Order."

9.

Then the land will yield its harvest,

and G.o.d, our G.o.d, will bless us.

G.o.d will bless us,

and all the ends of the earth will fear him.

Psalm 67:6-7 (NIV) Cooper arrived at the Deep Run Park Recreation Center carrying two baskets lined with autumnal tea towels. Each basket was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with fragrant pumpkin crisp squares and she couldn't help but feel a small measure of pride over how perfectly the golden crumb topping and the fluffy cakelike texture of the pumpkin layer had turned out. Of course, every one of Maggie's recipes resulted in a mouth-watering dessert, but not all were as simple to reproduce as the pumpkin squares.

Grammy had watched Cooper bake throughout the afternoon, sampling the unbaked crisp and insisting on more b.u.t.ter or brown sugar in the crumb mixture. Finally, she had declared that every bachelor in the room would propose marriage based on the pumpkin squares.

"You must take after your mama in the kitchen," Grammy remarked. "She ain't stretchin' the truth by namin' her goodies Magnolia's Marvels. Guess I'm the lucky one, since all I seem to have a taste for these days is loaded with sugar or salt. 'Course, I had to find out the hard way that my denture paste can't stand up to peanuts."

As she cut the pumpkin crisp into squares, Cooper noted that Grammy was skinnier than ever and marveled over how she continued to diminish in size despite the fact that she snacked on cookies all day long.

"You feelin' okay, Grammy?" she had asked her.

"Just a mite tired," Grammy had replied and patted Cooper's arm. "Now go on and have a fun supper with your friends. I don't need you frettin' on my account. Leave your worries in this kitchen, ya hear?"

That had been easier said than done, however, for Trish had telephoned all the Sunrise Bible study members and informed them that they were each to pay particular attention to two of the volunteers on Sat.u.r.day night. Cooper was supposed to glean as much information as possible about Warren and Brenda and then, once she returned home, write down all of her observations to share with the group on Sunday after church.

Cooper didn't expect any difficulty in chatting up Brenda, but drawing Warren out would be a challenge. After all, he was pleasant, but he was also quite shy, and Cooper knew that conducting small talk was a skill in which she was not very accomplished.

I hope I'm not too obvious, she thought as she stepped through the sliding gla.s.s doors of the recreation center.

According to Trish, Nathan had been a.s.signed to Warren as well. He and Bryant were also supposed to subtly interrogate Penny until they had a complete picture of her life outside of Door-2-Door.

"By investigating in pairs, we'll have two views on all the regular Sat.u.r.day volunteers," Trish explained authoritatively. "Except for Leo, that is. If he ever shows up, Savannah wants to be seated next to him and then she wants all of us to leave her alone with him. Can you imagine?"

Cooper could. If anyone could break through Leo's tough exterior, it was Savannah. There was a gentleness about her; a soft quietness that created a feeling of safety. Their group leader was adept at listening, was never judgmental, and always looked for the good in people. This serenity of spirit was infused in all of her folk art paintings and Cooper remembered how she felt when she saw one of Savannah's works for the first time. She had been moved and delighted by the faceless figures of Savannah's Biblical scenes. Whether she was painting Adam and Eve in the Garden or Jesus walking on water, Savannah managed to capture the feeling behind the words of Scripture each time her brush met the canvas.

"Let me take one of those baskets," Jake offered as Cooper entered the room Trish had rented for the occasion. The circular tables borrowed from the community center were covered with mustard-colored cloths and had centerpieces of garnet-hued chrysanthemums in terra-cotta pots. Red, yellow, and orange balloons were tied to the back of each chair, and oversized leaves sprinkled with glitter dangled from the ceiling, pivoting lazily above the sounds of conversation and laughter.

"Trish, you did a wonderful job in here!" Cooper complimented her friend.

Trish smoothed her helmet of copper hair and grinned. "Thank you. My girls helped me set up this afternoon. They really wanted to stay. They even tried to get my husband to convince me." Her smile grew smaller. "But they've got a piano recital next week and they simply must practice. I promised to bring them some dessert instead." She leaned toward Cooper's basket. "Are those the pumpkin crisp squares?"

"They smell so good!" Quinton put his face close to the basket Jake held and inhaled deeply. Trish reached out for both baskets.

"I'll just put these on the buffet table. Quinton, why don't you see if any of the volunteers would care for a gla.s.s of apple cider? We've got nonalcoholic and a spiked version as well. I added apple brandy to the punch bowl on the right. Gotta get those tongues wagging!" Trish swiveled toward the door. "Oh, there's Lali and Anita. Good luck, friends." Trish hurried away in a click of maroon heels.

"Does that woman ever rest?" Jake mumbled in admiration. "And her family seems like the same type of go-getters. The husband and those two cute little girls worked their b.u.t.ts off setting up and then didn't so much as ask Trish to bring home a doggie bag full of brownies. Just kissed her good-bye and went on home."