Hidden Falls (50 page)

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Sylvia said. She’d have to wait until after her mother’s daily call at seven before she could leave the house.

“I’m craving a piece of pie.” Sylvia looked hopefully at Gavin. “Am I too late?”

“Blackberry?”

“Of course.”

“You’re in luck.” Gavin pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. “I’ll make it to go.”

“I’m glad I ran into you,” Lauren said. “I’ve been thinking about that box.”

“Quinn’s box?”

“Yes.” Lauren pushed up her glasses. “Are you sure you shouldn’t open it?”

Quinn gave the carved box to Sylvia when she first moved into her house. They’d carried empty cartons up the stairs, and Quinn lifted the box out of one of them. He asked if he could leave it there undisturbed, and Sylvia agreed without thinking twice. When he was ready, he would tell her what was in it and why he wanted to leave it at her house. He never had, and Sylvia only saw the box one or two times a year when she had a reason to go up into the attic. It had been absorbed into the clutter.

“I really think you should consider it, Aunt Sylvia.” Lauren put her head through the strap of her bag and arranged it over one hip. “Didn’t Quinn give any instructions about … well, what to do with the box if … you know.”

“That hasn’t happened,” Sylvia said immediately. Without a body, there was no proof of death or foul play. She was a long way from concluding Quinn would never come home.

“I just meant … well, there might be extraordinary circumstances, and Quinn would understand.”

Twenty years that box sat in Sylvia’s attic. Now Lauren suggested Sylvia set aside two decades of trust because of one mysterious week.

“Jack Parker is onto something,” Lauren said. “I’ve run into him a couple of times this week, and he’s determined to be a hero.”

“I’m aware of his efforts.” Sylvia doubted Lauren knew about the address Jack was supposed to be tracking down.

“Ethan and Nicole are hard at it, too. I haven’t talked to them today, but I’m sure Nicole isn’t going to let go of this.”

“No, she won’t.”

Lauren laid a hand on Sylvia’s arm. “If there’s something to discover about Quinn’s past, I would rather Nicole be the one to find it. Or you. And maybe the truth is in that box.”

Lauren left, and Gavin returned with Sylvia’s pie. She drove home and sat at the kitchen table to eat it.

“Quinn,” she said aloud. “Quinn.”

Sylvia lost interest in the pie halfway through the piece. It was almost ten o’clock. She knew she should take the advice she’d given Lauren and go to bed and try to sleep.

Instead, she climbed the attic stairs and carried the carved box down.

She set it on the coffee table in the living room, unopened, while she got ready for bed.

At ten thirty, she went through the house turning off lights. She was down to just the bedside light and the table lamp in the living room when she sat on the sofa and stared at the box.

At eleven, she picked it up and sat with it in her lap and ran her fingers along the edges and in the crevices of the intricate leaf carving. It was the sort of box that had a story of its own, no matter what it contained.

It was past midnight when Sylvia raised the lid and looked inside.

Saturday
7:34 a.m.

T
he lawn behind Our Savior Community Church had its share of the town’s fallen leaves. In this case, most descended from the two towering oak trees in the middle of the lawn. Those old oaks created a wide circle of shade for church picnics and were the traditional location for photographs of Sunday school children every autumn. A medley of river birch and maples provided irregular adornment of the outer portions of the grass.

It will do well for the fair,
Sylvia thought as she took a distant parking spot in order to leave the best slots for fair visitors. Only ten minutes behind the arrival time she’d aimed for, Sylvia was eager for the day. She still had more than two hours before Waterfall Books and Gifts would reopen. Everything was ready at the store, and Lizzie would be there soon, so Sylvia could relax and be helpful setting up at the church.

In navy slacks, a white blouse with a gray cardigan, and comfortable shoes, Sylvia progressed across the parking lot. From fifty feet away, she could see blue and white stripes of four canopy tents forming a row along one edge of the lawn. Quinn had acquired them for the church several years ago at a clearance sale at the hardware store on Main Street. Instant pop-up canopies had swept into vogue all over Hidden Falls, and the hardware store’s owner had gotten desperate to get the older style out of his storeroom. Sylvia was pretty sure there were two more. The six tents were a mainstay of outdoor events of Our Savior.

Everything reminded Sylvia of Quinn. She could hear his voice in her head using humor to put people at ease on a day like this one.

Lauren was more than capable of running the fair—it had been her idea, after all. But all week Sylvia hoped Quinn would return in time to see the fruit of his organizing labor. When he did come back—even after all this time she refused to say
if
—the whole town would want to hear his story.

And there would be a story, because nothing else would explain why a man who hadn’t left the county in more than thirty years suddenly was nowhere to be found.

Sylvia reached the church’s sidewalk and started to cross the lawn. At tent number five, a sea of blue and white tumbled down.

“Hey!”

Sylvia recognized Lauren’s voice—from beneath the canopy.

“I thought we had a system.” Lauren fought her way out from under the canvas.

“Sorry. My bad.” Cooper grappled for an edge to hold up while Lauren crawled out.

Sylvia couldn’t help laughing. And it felt good.

Lauren emerged. “I thought we were trying to avoid a repeat of what happened with the video booth at the banquet.”

“Today we scheduled the equipment collapse for before the main event.” With Lauren clear of the canopy, Cooper straightened out the canvas and positioned it in line with the tents they’d already erected.

“And we’ll give Zeke Plainfield something to do that doesn’t involve tent poles.”

Lauren smiled, something Sylvia hadn’t seen her do much lately. Her niece was in close proximity to Cooper Elliott and not scowling or trying to escape. This was progress—and it would make Quinn smile.

“Hello, you two.” Sylvia grabbed hold of one corner of the canvas and freed up Cooper to wrestle with the poles and connective framing that would hold the slight structure together.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Lauren gripped a pole in one hand and a canvas edge in the other. “The clock is ticking, but I think we’ll be ready.”

Lauren’s glance at Cooper didn’t escape Sylvia’s notice.

Sylvia surveyed the lawn, discovering more help than she’d realized they would have. Benita Booker was busy directing a crew of four or five.

“Where did I leave my tools?” Cooper looked around before finally releasing the piece of framing in his hand and wandering off to search.

“I feel silly standing here holding parts of a tent.” Lauren’s eyes trailed along Cooper’s path.

Sylvia glanced around. “I’m glad to catch you in a quiet moment. I thought a lot last night about what you said about opening Quinn’s box.”

“And?” Lauren gave Sylvia her full gaze now.

“Your argument started to make sense to me.”

A honking horn made both of them shift attention to the street, where Gavin Owens’s gray van pulled up. He jumped out of the driver’s seat and went around to open the rear doors.

“Have we got electricity?” Gavin hefted a tub of supplies as he started across the grass.

Lauren tilted her head toward the building. “Benita put everyone who needs power over there.”

“Great. The breakfast burritos are hot, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I’ll help you.” The angle and size of the tub made Sylvia nervous, and she grabbed one end of the tub from Gavin. They carried it between them to an arrangement of tables and chairs.

Once it was out of the tub and on the table, Gavin found the cord and plugged in the food warmer. “No eggs Benedict for you today, but the burritos are low fat in whole-wheat tortillas. We’ve got regular, black bean, and spinach.”

Sylvia made several trips with Gavin back and forth between the van and his assigned station, carrying paper goods, another warmer of individually wrapped burritos, bottled juices, and two fifty-five-cup coffee brewers.

“It’s a lot of food,” Sylvia said.

“I’m hoping for a lot of people. At lunchtime we’ll change up the menu. When that’s over, I’ll mosey over and win the joke contest. I’ve been saving up a doozy.”

Sylvia laughed and wondered what Quinn’s entry would have been.

It was after eight now, less than an hour before all the booths and activities were scheduled to welcome visitors. Lauren and Cooper got the final tent up. Every time Sylvia looked at the street or the parking lot, she saw more cars lining up and volunteers taking up their positions on the lawn. This was the first time the church had done something like this. It was impossible to predict what the turnout would be or how foot traffic would rise and fall with the hours.

When Sylvia saw Lauren standing alone, leaning against the brick wall of the church, flipping sheets on her clipboard with a pen between her lips, she headed toward her. Lauren looked up, and Sylvia waved.

“I did open the box,” Sylvia said when she got closer.

Lauren’s eyebrows went up in expectation.

Benita Booker angled in at a speed Sylvia hadn’t known she was capable of.

“I need Lauren for a few minutes.” Benita took Lauren’s hand and drew her away from the wall.

“Stay right there,” Lauren called over her shoulder. “I’ll come back.”

Sylvia hadn’t known what to expect when she opened the box. Before last night she’d never considered looking inside, so it hadn’t seemed like a profitable use of mental energy to speculate. But she had expected that the contents, if she ever saw them, would be more self-evident.

Contrary to Lauren’s instructions, Sylvia wandered down the side of the building to the area where silent auction items were displayed between two large posters on easels assuring bidders that proceeds from the auction would go to the support of a women’s shelter in Birch Bend. Four mystery packages from Waterfall Books and Gifts, meticulously wrapped by Lizzie, sat on a draped table. Farther down, the vintage dresses from Sylvia’s attic hung on a makeshift clothesline. Sylvia found a small box of bidding sheets and tape and began securing sheets next to the items they described—a weekend in a Chicago hotel, a fishing rod, pairs of concert tickets, meals at restaurants, children’s toys. Bidders with a variety of interests could find something to consider.

“There you are.”

Sylvia looked up to see her niece. “I thought I would make myself useful.”

“Please do! I hope the auction will be self-explanatory and low maintenance.”

“I’ll check in on it when I can during the day.”

“Perfect.” Lauren set down her clipboard. “Now, you were going to tell me something about the box?”

Movement in her peripheral vision made Sylvia step back. A bell dinged, and Cooper rode by on a bicycle far too small for him. His knees pumped up close to his chin as he pedaled around with a grin on his face.

“At least I’m wearing a helmet!” He whizzed past them.

Lauren laughed. “I’m tempted to go get my bike and race him.”

Sylvia’s cell phone rang, and she lifted it to her ear as she watched Cooper circle around and come toward them again.

“This is Sammie Dunavant.”

“Sammie, is everything all right?”

“I think so. Your mother called me because she was concerned she couldn’t reach you this morning.”

Sylvia was grateful her mother had a caring neighbor to call—but she had spoken to her mother barely an hour ago.

“I guess she’s forgotten that we spoke.” Sylvia shifted the phone to the other ear as she turned away from Cooper’s shenanigans.

“She seems agitated. Do you mind talking to her again?”

“Of course not. I’ll call her right now.”

She hung up and dialed Emma’s number. “Hi, Mom.”

“I wondered if you were coming by today,” Emma said.

Sylvia had just been to her mother’s home the evening before. Barely ten hours had passed between the time Sylvia left last night and when her mother phoned her in the morning. Emma had seemed fine, but Sylvia heard anxiety in her voice now.

“I’m forgetting something,” Emma said. “I’m sitting here working the muscles of my face, but it’s just not coming to me.”

“If it’s important, you’ll remember.” Sylvia said this to calm her mother, knowing that it was less and less true for Emma.

“It’s the babies, I think.”

“The babies?”

“They were sick. Or one of them was, anyway.”

The babies.

“Mom, I’m going to come over. Can you put the teakettle on?”

“Of course I can. Don’t be silly.”

Sylvia hated to leave. Between the fair and her shop—which would open in an hour—her day was full. But after seeing the contents of Quinn’s box, Sylvia realized Emma might know more than she thought she knew.

But would Emma remember the babies by the time Sylvia got to her house?

9:31 a.m.

The only reason Liam showed up at all was because Benita Booker roused him with a reminder call at eight o’clock on Saturday morning, waking him from three consecutive hours of sleep, a duration that was beginning to feel satisfying compared to most stretches. Her husband had been a steady client for seven years. Liam couldn’t afford to offend Benita by backing out.

Besides, he’d promised Quinn. If Quinn ever found whatever, or whoever, he was looking for and returned to Hidden Falls, Liam hoped they would pick up their conversations where they left off. That scenario seemed unlikely given Liam’s current circumstances, but Liam had always been one to keep his options open and hope for the best.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Lauren waved Liam over. “I’ll show you your table.”