A Stillness of Chimes (13 page)

“Okay, I’ll be on my way. Bye, Ardelle.” He picked up his briefcase and blew her a kiss, then followed Laura outside and shut the door. “That was very kind of you.”

“It’s nothing. Ardelle was very kind to look after things for me.”

“She enjoyed it, I think. She always likes to be helpful.”

She certainly did.

A small flock of crows flew over, drawing Laura’s attention to the sky where a trio of buzzards spiraled on an updraft, so high above the mountains
that they must have been able to see every mountaintop and valley for miles around.

“I wonder if my dad’s out there somewhere watching those buzzards,” she blurted.

“Aw, Laura, honey. It’s not likely.”

“So you’re on that side of the fence, huh? You think he’s gone?”

“I’m just trying to be realistic,” Gary said gently.

She sighed. “I know. Thank you for being honest. And thank you for being loyal and kind to my dad. He must have blown up at you a hundred times, but you always forgave him and went on being his friend.”

“That’s what friends do. He was a loyal friend to me too. Like a brother. Lord, I miss him. And your mom. Everybody does.” His face somber, Gary gestured vaguely toward the house. “Just look at all those plants from the funeral. Everybody loved her. I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

“Me either.” Laura gave him a hug. For half a second, she pretended she was hugging her dad—but her dad would have smelled like sawdust or campfires, not aftershave. Her dad wouldn’t be well fed and well dressed. If he was up in the mountains, he was all alone. Out of his mind, maybe, or at least nursing a broken heart.

She wanted to let the tears come. She wanted Gary to pat her back and tell her everything would be fine. To say that she wasn’t alone, even if her parents were both gone. But she swallowed hard and stepped away.

“I’d better let you go before I blubber all over you.”

He made a big show of examining his shirt. “Now how am I supposed to go to work if you smeared snot on me?”

She smacked his arm in mock offense. “Smear it off again.”

“When did you start taking smart-mouth lessons from Cassie, young lady?”

They both started laughing. It was a blessed relief after too many moments of barely controlled grief.

Gary started walking toward the garage. “If there’s ever anything we can do for you, just call.”

“Okay. Thanks, Gary.”

He hit his remote. The garage door slid up smoothly, revealing his black Cadillac. Ardelle’s sassy little yellow convertible was missing, so Cassie must have taken it. For a moment Laura envied the Brights, for her dad’s sake, yet she liked to believe her dad would be happy for his old friends too. Gary and Ardelle had always been kind and generous, and it was wonderful to see them prosper.

She pulled the two African violets out of the car and took them inside. As she shut the door, her breath caught in her throat. Back in her mom’s kitchen, the helter-skelter placement of the plants hadn’t affected her this way. Here, the carefully arranged greenery on the white marble hearth took her back to her mother’s memorial service and the plants and flowers massed around the white casket in front of the altar.

Ardelle finished fluffing the fronds of a Boston fern. “Is that it?”

“Yes, these are the last two.”

“They’re gorgeous,” Ardelle said. “They’ll be perfect, right in front.” She placed the white violets on the left and the purple ones on the right, then switched them. “There, that’s better.” She turned around. “Can you stay and visit for a while? This big ol’ house gets lonesome.”

“I wish I could, but I’m meeting someone in a few minutes.”

Ardelle’s face brightened. “Sean?”

“No, not Sean.” Laura started for the door with Ardelle right behind her. “I’ll see you soon, Ardelle.”

“Did Cassie invite you and Sean to Trevor’s birthday party?”

Laura made a face and kept moving. “Um … no.”

“I asked her to, but she must have forgotten. We’re having a little family party on Saturday night, about six, and we’d love it if y’all could join us. Think you can?”

Laura couldn’t think of an excuse not to. Slowly, she turned to face Ardelle’s eager smile. “Well … it might work. Maybe. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Wonderful! We’ll have so much fun. And it’ll be good to see Sean. We hardly ever see him anymore. Oh, and I intend to drop off some supper for you sometime soon. We can’t let you starve.”

“I’m not starving. I promise.” Laura gave Ardelle a quick hug and then fled in earnest.

“Shoot,” she whispered, running for her car. Maybe she’d find a way out. Maybe she wouldn’t even need to mention it to Sean. The poor guy. He would hate every minute of it.

Next stop, the cabin. She’d bought four glaringly orange No Trespassing signs to post around the property. Sean would notice them, sooner or later, and he would probably ask why she thought they were necessary.

She still didn’t want to tell him about seeing Dale’s truck stopping there. Sean would blast Dale, stirring up more hard feelings on his part.

About to climb into her car, she looked up. The buzzards were still there, so high above the endless mountains that they were only specks circling in the blue. Maybe her dad really was watching them too.

Did he remember watching her and her mom on the lake shore the day he walked away? Did he feel guilty? Did he know how it felt to suddenly learn you weren’t loved, after all? Maybe he did, or at least he thought he did, but two wrongs didn’t make a right.

Neither did three.

“Come home,” Laura whispered. “I’ll be watching for you.”

Cassie stepped out of the thrift shop with her purchase, a beautiful shirt for almost nothing. Drew would say she’d done well, but she still felt guilty for buying something that wasn’t strictly necessary. He was probably rolling quarters for gas money. Eating beans and rice while she ate well.

She’d enjoyed lunch at her in-laws’ house though, and it would be even more fun to tool around town in an expensive little car. She needed some time alone too. She was beginning to understand the burdens that Laura and Jess must have carried. The tensions. The worries. The constant watching and wondering. Elliott’s problems had been much worse than a touch of OCD too. Much more draining.

She glanced at the vehicles crawling through the roundabout by the old courthouse. Half tourist trap and half hick town, Prospect had several one-way streets and roundabouts that made navigation a headache even for natives who knew where they were going. On weekends, with tourists clogging the streets, everything backed up.

Shading her eyes against the sun, she studied the three-story building across the street. Her dad owned it now, but the Halloran name was carved into a decorative slab near the top of the third floor. The letters stood out in stark relief in the sun. Below the name, roman numerals gave the year it
was built—1925—and a carving above the entrance portrayed ears of corn, sheaves of grain, grapes, and hops. Those long-ago Hallorans hadn’t been shy about the source of their wealth.

The beautiful old landmark had fallen into disrepair, but her dad had transformed it. Trendy shops and a café flourished on the ground floor. The second floor held high-class office space, and the third floor had become luxury apartments. One of the apartment dwellers had risked planting red geraniums in a window box. Not a smart move when a late frost might still hit, but as her dad liked to say, risk takers got ahead.

Cassie brought her hand to her temple in a quick salute. “Way to go, fat cat,” she said, not caring who might hear her.

But all the money in the world wouldn’t make him happy if they couldn’t figure out what was going on with her mom.

Frowning, Cassie looked across the street at the old diner, still a popular spot in spite of the competition from the new café. She’d tried to talk her mom into going out for breakfast, but she wasn’t interested. Her mom wasn’t even interested in clothes and makeup anymore. She was a neat freak about everything else, but she slopped around her picture-perfect house in ugly, baggy clothes.

Cassie started hoofing it toward her mom’s car, its vivid paint conspicuous among the other vehicles parked at the curb. Her dad called it “Bright yellow” as if it were a trademarked shade like a designer paint.

“Cassie, is that really you?” someone called from halfway down the block.

Cassie turned around and spotted slow-talking, slow-walking Kim Milton strolling along the sidewalk. A sheriff’s deputy now but out of uniform,
she was even prettier than she’d been in high school, thanks to softer makeup and gently highlighted hair.

“Hey, Kim. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s been awhile. Are you doing all right? Still living in California?”

“Yes, and it’s wonderful.” Cassie decided to keep the not-so-wonderful parts to herself.

“I hear Laura’s in town too.”

“Yes, she is.” Cassie’s mind went straight to Laura’s prowler. “You’re still with the sheriff’s department, right?”

“Yes ma’am.” Kim seemed to swell with pride.

“What’s the sheriff’s take on the wild stories about her dad?”

“He says we’re already overworked and understaffed, and until we have solid evidence that Mr. Gantt is alive, we’ll assume he’s dead. That’s only the sheriff’s opinion, though.”

“You think he’s alive?”

“I’m open to the idea,” Kim said. “Stranger things have happened.”

Cassie hesitated. It was tempting to tell Kim about the prowler—after all, she was in law enforcement—but Laura would be livid.

Kim’s eyes focused on something behind Cassie. She looked over her shoulder. Sean was walking up behind her, carrying a paper bag from the old-time hardware store on the corner.

Cassie grinned. “Sean! Boy, am I glad to see you.”

“Good afternoon, ladies.” He pulled Cassie into an old-friends kind of hug. “Mrs. Cutler. Long time no see.”

“Way too long,” Cassie said. “How are ya?”

“Not bad.”

He released Cassie and gave Kim one of those gorgeous smiles that he should have been saving for Laura. Cassie wanted to smack him.

“How’s everything, Kim?”

“Great, thanks.” She gave his arm a friendly little clout. “I just heard about what you’re doing. It’s great.”

He gave her a blank look. “Doing?”

“The music lessons for low-income kids.”

“Oh. That. It’s nothing.”

Kim shook her head. “I know what music teachers can charge per hour.”

He studied the sidewalk. “It’s just something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

Cassie’s eyes watered. Bless him. He was doing what Elliott had done for him, years ago. Laura couldn’t let such a good guy slip through her fingers.

“Well, I’d better run,” Kim said. “See y’all later.”

They all said their good-byes. Kim walked down the sidewalk, her shiny hair swinging, and Sean eyed the vehicles along the curb as if he were trying to remember where he’d parked.

“Don’t run off,” Cassie said. “Do you have time to go someplace where we can talk in private? It’s about Laura’s safety.”

Sean’s face clouded with gratifying concern, and he pointed toward the old café. “You bet I have time. Let me buy you a coffee, and let’s talk.”

Except for the rickety wooden arch marking the entrance, the old church camp on the northern side of Hamlin Lake was a lovely place. Wild daylily plants filled the roadside ditches, their pale green buds nearly ready to burst into orange. A mix of pines and hardwoods on both sides of the road offered shade against the afternoon sun.

The holy roller camp, half the town called it, but those Pentecostals were good people. Laura’s grandparents on both sides had connections there. She and “Presto” Preston had parked their vehicles in the gravel parking lot, then walked back to the road together so he could show her the very spot where he thought he’d seen her father.

Except for having lost most of his hair, Preston hadn’t changed much since Laura had taken biology from him in high school. Although she was a fellow teacher now, she knew she would never call him by his nickname or his first name. He was still Mr. Preston to her.

“Teaching history, eh?” he said. “You should come home and teach in Prospect. The pay’s probably about the same anywhere.”