Page 9 of Trouble Comes in Threes

But if she couldn’t handle it, I’d be there behind her to fix it as much as I could.

“Come on, Ashley,” Mr. Caldoni said. “We’ll walk to class together.”

I watched them head back to the hellhole that was Mrs. Pritchard’s classroom and knew I had to trust I’d made the right decision.

Chapter Three

My business partner Bruce Wayne Decker was already at work with his crew when I pulled up to the Thatcher residence—not that I was surprised. He and his men usually got started around seven, and it was almost nine. They were all much faster and more efficient than I was at the physical aspect of the business, but RBW had come to life because I loved growing and planting.

I spent most days coming up with designs for clients, while Bruce Wayne handled the logistics of installing the designs I made with my best friend, and sister-in-law, Neely Kate. But sometimes my designs didn’t work in the real world. Getting field experience helped me become a better designer…and Joe was right: I liked digging in the dirt.

Bruce Wayne waved as I walked over.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said as I surveyed what they’d done so far. “I had to deal with an incident with Ashley at school.”

“Ashley?” he asked in surprise. “What happened?”

Bruce Wayne, of all people, would understand. He’d had his run-ins with the law. In fact, I’d met him after being kicked off the jury when he was on trial for murder. I’d seen a vision that had proven his innocence, and since the prosecuting attorney had refused to believe me, I’d set out to clear his name.

I told Bruce Wayne everything, and he listened with a grim expression.

“Is she okay?” he asked when I’d finished.

“I’d like to say yes, but I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “Unfortunately, what the kid said is true. Her father is in prison.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “And he worked for a bad, bad man.”

Pretty much everyone villainized James Malcolm—the “bad, bad man.” Very few people realized what he had sacrificed for the county. Sacrificed for me and Hope. He’d lost everything, even his best friend Jed, and some days I struggled with the weight of my guilt.

But I couldn’t contradict him. Bruce Wayne had never trusted James, and there was nothing I could say that would change his mind. I’d stopped trying long ago.

“I can’t change what Ashley’s father did or what happened to him,” I said. “I just need to help her get through it.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you can stop it,” he said with a frown. “Now that it has been brought up in front of her classmates, they aren’t going to forget.” He shifted his weight. “Maybe you should talk to Jonah about it.”

“Good idea.” A few years ago, Jonah, the pastor at New Living Hope Revival Church, had been my counselor for several months. He’d been a rock for me to lean on at a time when I’d desperately needed one. Besides, Ashley loved Jonah, and she might be more willing to open up to someone other than me or Joe.

He grinned. “I’m full of ‘em.”

“There’s no denying that,” I said emphatically. He’d come up with more than half of the ideas that had built up our landscaping business. And now that he had two kids of his own, he was even hungrier for success.

“Tell me where you want me,” I said.

“A storm’s supposed to roll in tomorrow afternoon—it might even snow—so we’re trying to get as much done today as we can.”

“Snow?” I asked in surprise. We didn’t usually get snow in mid-March, but then again, this was Southern Arkansas. The weather could change on you at the drop of a hat. “Okay, if you’re wanting to get this job done quickly, that means I should work in a less critical area. Tell me what to do.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You can hold your own with the best of ‘em.” He sent me to work digging up an area where I’d designed a retaining wall. We needed to build a stable base before we started stacking the stones.

I got to work, and a few minutes later, Bruce Wayne, who was ripping out some bushes about ten feet from me, stared at the street and said in amazement, “Well, I’ll be.”

I glanced up and saw Neely Kate’s car pulling up behind my Suburban and parking at the curb. Neely Kate got out and headed toward us in a pair of jeans and her bedazzled long-sleeved RBW Landscaping T-shirt.

“What’s goin’ on?” I asked as she approached.

“I thought I’d play in the dirt too,” she said as she picked up a shovel and glanced around, refusing to make eye contact. In fact, her eyes looked puffy, like she’d been crying. “What are we doin’? Just digging up a mess?”

While this was hardly the first time Neely Kate had helped at a job site, she wasn’t a fan of it. She’d told me once that she didn’t need to try stacking a few stones in person to understand why something had gone wrong. “A pastry chef doesn’t need to attend a wedding to see why her cake fell over when it’s obvious a drunk bridesmaid tackled the groom after he’d screwed her the night before.”

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