Hidden Hearts (35 page)

“Where did you get this?” she asked in amazement. “It’s only November.”

“I found it on the tree closest to the road. I doubt it’s ripe yet, but it looks ready.”

We both studied the freak of nature. While most of the other orange blossoms were still green, I’d found one all by itself on a branch. Maybe extra water reached its roots or maybe the sun kissed it frequently, but for whatever reason it was more mature than the others, and it reminded me of her.

The motor rumbled to life and I stepped away, feeling the comfort of Mama’s strong hands on my shoulders. We all waved, and while I knew Kiah was a person who kept her word, something told me this was goodbye.

The car slipped out of the driveway, and I ran after it. I could hear Mama calling me, but I ignored her. As it picked up speed I ran faster. Even after it turned onto Missouri Avenue, I kept running past the endless rows of orange trees I remembered, wanting them back more desperately than ever.
And hating Mac for killing the first one.

June, 2010

CC realized she’d accidentally unearthed a family secret, and judging by the blank expression on Maya’s face, she guessed Maya had no clue that she was related to Viv. But the resemblance between Maya and Kiah’s portrait was now obvious to her, perhaps because she was an artist.

She set the information aside and focused on the problem: how to keep Seth Rubenstein from claiming the enclave. She pulled more letters from the box, realizing that the key was the relationship between Lois and Jacob.

“CC,” Penn said. “Who’s Maude?”

CC waved her off. “It’s not important right now. Probably just a friend of Lois’s,” she said glancing at Maya. “I need to sort through this box, but I need better light.”

CC took the shoebox and went downstairs. Viv wasn’t around,
and she imagined she might be on the sun porch working. She settled onto the couch across from the oil painting of Kiah. As she read Jacob’s letters to Lois, she periodically looked up at Kiah’s strong expression and wise eyes. She felt like she was reliving some of the moments Jacob recalled, such as the time when he’d first visited and offered to buy Chet Battle’s orchards. She glanced at the antique dining table, imagining the two of them haggling over the price under the glow of the ornate chandelier.

Her phone rang and she glanced at the display. Alicia. She was about to divert to voice mail, but suddenly felt the urge for confrontation and picked up the call.

“Hey. I’ve got two suite-level tickets to the Diamondbacks game tonight. Interested?”

“Oh, I can’t. I’ve got to work.”

Alicia snorted.
“Really?
What if I told you that I’m calling you from
your
office?”

She immediately became wary. “What are you doing there?”

“I came by to see if you wanted to go, and Blanca told me you were at a garage?”

She realized Blanca might be standing right next to her, listening to every word she said. “You of all people know how my car is. I barely made it off the freeway before it died. They’re still working on it, but it’s taking longer than I thought.”

“So which garage are you at?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. It’s either Tony’s or Al’s or Tony’s
and
Al’s, something like that. It was a place that the tow truck driver recommended. They take Triple-A.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Alicia said, and CC knew she saw through the lie. They’d lived together too long. There was a long pause and she wondered if she’d hung up. “Are you still there?”

“Seriously, CC, are you with your new friends?”

“Actually, yes, I’m at the enclave. I’m spending some time with Viv. She’s helping me with my drawings.”

“During a work day?
Are you crazy? You’re sure it’s not that cute little butch dyke who was glued to your side at the charity event?”

“Alicia…”

“Seriously, CC, are you and the butch together now? Because having any contact with them during this case is unethical.” Her voice rose. “I know you’ll probably hate me for this, but I’m demanding that you meet me at the game. It will save your career and get you some hot sex in a luxury suite.”

She wasn’t paying attention. She was sifting through some old black-and-white photos she’d found in one of the letters—pictures from the grand opening of Della’s, the flagship restaurant on Grand Avenue. Toward the bottom of the stack she found one of Jacob Rubenstein between his wife and Lois Battle. Lois was signing something but it wasn’t a piece of paper. She peered at the picture bringing it as close to her eyes as possible.

“CC!”
Alicia snapped. “Listen to me. Come home now. You can’t get involved with these people.”

She held the picture at arm’s length and studied it differently, forgetting the center and focusing on the background, just as an artist might. They were standing in Della’s, and she even remembered the exact location—the wall by the hallway. And on that wall…

She grinned. She had it.

“CC!”
Alicia spat.

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can, but it sounds like you won’t. It’s the butch, isn’t it? Don’t lie to me anymore. Get home right now, or I’m sending those pictures to your boss! I broke up with Nadia. I’m all yours.”

Alicia suddenly had her full attention. When she was certain she could speak with a steady voice she said, “That’s great, Alicia. You threaten to ruin my career, and, in the next sentence, tell me you’ve finally split with the woman you left me for. Wow. That’s quite an offer. It makes me wonder how many times I fell for similar offers when we were together. This time I think I’ll wise up and decline.”

“I’m serious about those pictures. Blanca offered me a job, and I’m thinking it might be
your
job.”

“And you can have it.”

She hung up and dropped her phone because her hands were shaking so badly. Penn appeared as she was crawling under the coffee table to retrieve it.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure I’m unemployed and possibly an Internet sensation as well.”

“Really?
Um, well…it’ll be okay.”

“So have you two figured out how I’m going to keep this place?” Viv asked from the doorway.  Her granite-like expression was intimidating, and CC knew she needed to tread lightly. 

She picked up the stack of photos. “I think I’ve found something, but I need to ask you some difficult questions. Did your mother and Jacob have an affair? I only ask,” she said, motioning to the shoebox, “because there’s at least a hundred letters in here.”

She joined them on the couch and stared at the box. She plucked one from the middle and read the envelope. “Where did you find these?”

“They were inside another box, almost as if your mother was hiding them,” Penn said. “Have you read any?”

Viv scowled. “Of course not, and I don’t have any intention of reading them now. That was her personal business.”

“But what if it helps us keep the enclave?” CC pressed.

Viv shook her head. “It won’t. All you need to know is that Mama and Jacob Rubenstein were tremendously close. They always were. How close, I don’t know, but he would’ve done anything for her. And maybe he did. But Mama loved Della too.” She replaced the lid to the shoebox, minus the letter CC still held in her hand. “Maybe they had an affair while Della was alive or maybe not. And they may have waited until Della was gone. She died about two years before Mama’s mind started to go. But it’s not important.”

CC and Penn looked at her skeptically and she sighed. “What is it with your generation? You’re just fascinated with everyone else’s dirt. Nothing can be left as a mystery. Who
cares
where Amelia Earhart crashed? And what if Lee Harvey Oswald had help? As if it matters?
Now
?
All you need to know is what I said. Jacob loved my mother, and without his help we wouldn’t have made it.”

“Who was Maude?”

Viv leaned back into the corner of the sofa and licked her lips. “Maude was my half-sister. After my father left, my mother fell in love with Mac, Kiah’s father. For a while it was wonderful, but then the cabins burned down one night and killed him. She’d just realized she was pregnant.” Her voice faded away, and CC saw tears in her eyes. “I’m almost positive it was my father who set the fire,” she added distantly. “That’s what I told Jacob Rubenstein.”

“What?” CC asked, startled.

“I saw two men, and then I saw my father hiding in the bushes watching the cabins burn. Afterward, I was pretty sure it was Pops who’d done it. So I told Jacob.”

She thought of the note that had started the legal proceeding. “What month was that?”

Viv looked away. “It was August of fifty-five. It was so hot. And even after they put out the fire it felt like our house was ten degrees warmer than usual. That was the worst summer of my life.”

“What are you thinking?” Penn asked CC.

“The note that gave the enclave to Jacob Rubenstein is dated August of fifty-five as well.”

Penn looked at her seriously. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

“No, it can’t,” she agreed. “Viv, did Jacob call the police? Was your father ever arrested or even questioned?”

She shook her head. “I know he wasn’t arrested. Mama just wanted it to go away. She missed Mac so much, and then all she cared about was making a life for me and Maude by selling her pies and running the B and B Jacob had built.”

“So that’s how the enclave came to be,” CC concluded. “What happened to Kiah?”

Viv gazed at the oil portrait. “Kiah’s death was the most tragic of all. She was beaten to death by a racist police officer during a freedom march in the South. Her death was a blow to all of us, Maude especially. Maude was such a beautiful child.”

“Where is she now?” Penn asked.

“She’s gone too.” Viv stared out the window, refusing to look at her. “Life wasn’t easy for her. It wasn’t easy for anyone who grew up mixed in the sixties. She didn’t belong anywhere. Mama and I did the best we could but the older she got, the wilder she became.”

“What happened?”

“She ran away when she was thirteen, after Kiah died. We’d kept in touch all those years, and Kiah said that after she graduated from law school, she’d take Maude in. None of her people would. They were as prejudiced against mixed folks as much as anybody. But then she was killed, and Maude ran away. It was all so sad.”

“Where did she go?” Penn asked.

“She headed for California. Mama was heartbroken. Maude was the second child she’d lost. First, my brother Will was killed in a knife fight in sixty-four, and then Maude, who was her only link to Mac, leaves her. Mama went from being the happiest person I knew to the saddest. Thank goodness for the Rubensteins. They were the only people who helped her.”

“What happened to Maude?”

She glanced toward the attic. “Somewhere up there is a little box of her things,” she added. “But in seventy-two, Jacob showed up on our doorstep. He’d received a call from the San Francisco police. Her body had been found in Golden Gate Park. She died from exposure, but I’m sure it was drugs.”

Looking distressed, she paused and ran a hand over her face. “Apparently Maude had kept an envelope of pictures in her knapsack, and one of them was of Della’s Restaurant. Mama had written Phoenix and the date on the back, and they looked up Jacob. She had to go claim the body. It was awful. She was never the same after that.”

“And Maude had Maya before she died?” CC asked gently.

Her gaze shot up at CC. “Damn. How did you know?”

“Maya told us her mother was Maude.”

She shook a finger at her. “You should be a detective.” She stood and went to Kiah’s portrait, setting her hand on the frame reverently. “Maude also had a picture of a newborn in her bag. I think Maya was probably born in somebody’s house, and then Maude gave her up for adoption. I guess a lot of women did during that crazy time. Mama found a slip of paper with an address in her bag, so before she left San Francisco, she visited the people who’d adopted her. She decided not to make trouble, and they all kept in touch. And when Maya’s adoptive parents’ health started to fail, they moved out here.” She offered a slight smile. “I doubt that was an accident.”