by Aaron Lazar
She read through every, single entry. It took forty-five minutes, and when she was done, she was glad she’d gone through them. Every once in a while there were comments or embedded replies to comments from Grace Lamont Rockwell or Portia Lamont Hawke.
There they were. The two pretend mothers of her children.
She also saw one comment from the grandmother, Tessie Hawke, saying how grateful she was to the community for their support, and warning them to be vigilant of fraudsters like the ones who’d stolen their children.
But I’m not a fraudster. I’m going to be a friend who simply repossesses the kids who were meant to be with me, after all. I’ll go in quietly and swiftly. I’ll be smart. It’ll be over before they know it.
Once we get to Wyoming, I’ll be able to relax.
The voice in her head started up again.
You’ll need documents for the kids. Birth certificates.
Oh. I didn’t think of that.
Of course you didn’t. That’s why I’m here.
So, what do we do?
You can hire a guy to make fake ones. Start asking around on the forums.
Can I do it online?
Sure you can. You can do anything online, you know that.
Lollie tucked the thought away and decided to post on the page. Carefully, she registered her real name just like all the women did on Facebook, using her maiden name as well. She composed a note.
Lolita Tourneau Belvedere: To the wonderful Hawke and Rockwell families. I’m so glad your dear children are safe and sound with you. And as hard as it was to give them up after growing to love them so much, I’m grateful God guided them back to you.”
She didn’t mean it, of course. Not a word. But it would be good to help deflect attention away from her when everything went down.
To her surprise, a response popped up immediately.
Grace Lamont Rockwell: Thank you, Lollie. The children are doing great and loved the toys you sent them. We are so very sorry for your loss and hope you’re starting to feel a little better.
Lolita Tourneau Belvedere: Thank you, Grace. Losing my Colby just days before the children were returned to you was traumatic. But I’m starting to feel better now. Rosita is taking good care of me.
Grace Lamont Rockwell: We loved Rosita. She made the best chili and cornbread ever. I must get her recipes!
Lolita Tourneau Belvedere: We can arrange that. Must sign off for now, kiss Caroline for me.
Grace Lamont Rockwell: Thanks, Lollie. Will do. Hang in there.
Lollie almost felt guilty for this subterfuge, but not really. After all, these children were meant to be hers. They were meant to be named Scarlett and Rhett, not the boring names Caroline and Joey. And they deserved a great life on a ranch out west with her.
She had such wonderful plans for them.
They’d all learn to ride and maybe even rope cattle. The kids could participate in the local rodeos. She could figure out how to make chili, and maybe even enter it in some local contests when she felt comfortable with the community.
But she’d probably try to steer clear of that in the beginning until the news coverage died down. Once again, they’d have the children’s pictures plastered all over the news. Hopefully, they’d renew their search for the original kidnappers, assuming they’d come back for revenge.
Maybe she’d have to steal a camper van for the trip out. Something where the kids couldn’t be seen from the outside windows. Where she could use the camper’s bathroom and not have to go into the rest stops. It would be hard carrying both of them into a restroom, anyway. How would she do that? Even a double stroller might not fit into a stall.
Yes. A nice RV would be ideal.
Now she needed to take an online tour of the popular camper models and become familiar with their wiring circuits and door locks. It amazed her how much you could find online. Wiring diagrams came in service manuals. Sometimes you had to purchase the rights to them, but she had money, so that was no biggie. And the sales videos for “tours” of these vans were everywhere. She could become familiar with every little aspect of them, including how to drive and manage them on the road.
It was going to be a long afternoon, but tomorrow she could continue in the privacy of her own home. Once settled in again, she’d buy a new laptop with a huge external monitor so she could read the maps easier. She’d use her bedroom as the war room, so to speak. But she’d have to be careful with Rosita. Much as she loved her, she couldn’t let her get suspicious.
A sudden thought hit her.
I’m going to have to practice stealing cars.
I need to be good at the actual physical motions. I’ll start with my own vehicles and see if I can do it. Once I’m done, I’ll practice at night down on the pier, where nobody will see me. I won’t actually take the cars, I’ll just make sure I can break in the doors and start up the engines. Then I’ll back away.
Pleased with herself for coming up with this idea on her own, with no help from her voices, she grinned.
With a burst of energy, she went to the Apple website and began to browse among the newest Macs. Why wait until she got home? When she’d made her choice, she ordered a complete system with expedited overnight shipping and paid for it all through PayPal.
Everything was coming together, and tomorrow, she’d be home.
Chapter 43
At ten minutes to nine the next morning, Rocco appeared in her doorway, big and black and solid. She’d gotten used to him and actually thought she’d miss him. Of all the people here at The Sea Breeze, he was her favorite.
“Ready to go home, Miss Lollie?”
She gave her best blinding smile. “You bet I am.”
He offered his arm, she took it, and she sashayed beside him to the lobby. She smiled at the other patients and nurses, inwardly cursing most of them, but kept up the façade until she reached the couch where he asked her to wait for Rosita, who was due in five minutes.
To her surprise, Doctor Worthy actually showed up to say goodbye, handing her the paperwork he’d signed saying she was fit to be released.
“Dr. Worthy! How lovely of you to see me off.” She refrained from pecking his cheek, although maybe at this point it wouldn’t be seen as inappropriate. But now that she was so close, she couldn’t take a chance.
“Mrs. Belvedere, I wanted to wish you well. If you have any problems at all this week, don’t hesitate to call me. Here’s my card with your next appointment all set up. The number’s on the bottom.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” She took the card and examined it, tucking it into her bra. In a weird way, she hoped he found that provocative. Maybe some day, in another lifetime, she’d come back here and make him her second husband. She liked his dark eyes.
A car pulled up outside, and Lollie recognized Colby’s BMW. Rosita had offered to pick her up today, and she’d gladly accepted.
Rocco carried her bag out to the car and Rosita hurried inside.
“Miss Lollie, today is the day, si? Are you ready?”
Lollie stood and hugged Rosita, something she was becoming used to doing and thought she’d continue. It felt good to wrap her arms around Rosita’s solid warm body. Comforting. “I am more than ready, Rosita.”
Together, they walked down the marble steps to the car.
“I will drive if you like, Miss Lollie.”
“Okay.” Lollie slid into the passenger seat and buckled up, waving to Rocco and Dr. Worthy.
At the last minute, Nancy appeared, breathless and disheveled. She ran down to the car and tapped on the window. “Oh, I’m so glad I didn’t miss you! I wanted to wish you the very best, Lollie. And I made you a printout of all your genealogy sites so you can continue at home.” She handed Lollie a manila envelope.
“Oh, Nancy. That was so thoughtful of you. Thank you.” One more big fake smile, a handshake through the window, and she was done.
“Okay, Rosita. Let’s go home.”
“Yes, Miss.” Rosita put the b
ig car in drive and it purred down the winding road and out the gate to the street.
Lollie noticed that Rosita needed a pillow to sit on so she could see properly over the steering wheel. She thought it was cute, and never had really thought about how little Rosita was. Maybe she was just shy of five feet tall?
She watched her navigate the light traffic with practiced ease. “You’re a good driver, Rosita.”
“Thank you, Miss Lollie.” She didn’t take her eyes off the road. “My Pablo taught me when we came to Maine. I drove in Mexico, but that was very different.”
“Really? How so?”
“We don’t have so many rules down there. Everybody goes like crazy.”
Lollie barked a laugh. “I can just imagine.”
“Much safer this way,” Rosita said sagely.
In five minutes they neared her parents’ street, then whipped past the pretty house. A pang of guilt hit her.
“Did my parents call while I was gone?”
Rosita nodded. “Oh, yes. Almost every day.”
“Really?”
“Yes. They were sad they couldn’t see you. But I kept them up on the news.”
“Thank you. I really didn’t want them to see me like that. It was so awful, Rosita.”
“I know, Miss. I know.” She reached over to pat Lollie’s hand.
Lollie took her hand and squeezed it lightly. “I want to thank you for coming to see me. For keeping me grounded. I don’t know what I would have done without your visits.”
“Oh, Miss Lollie. I liked coming to see you.” Gently, she disengaged her hand and returned it to the steering wheel.
“I’m glad. And now,” she said, “we can get back to living our lives, right?”
Rosita smiled. “Yes we can.”
They turned into the driveway of the mansion, and Lollie almost gasped at the beauty of the structure she hadn’t seen in so many weeks. “It looks amazing, Rosita. The windows are sparkling!”
Rosita nodded. “I hoped you would notice. I did all the windows this week. Inside and out. It makes a difference, don’t you think?”
“It’s amazing,” Lollie said, staring at the house. “I'm so glad to be home.”
Rosita pulled the car up to the front porch. “Here we go. You go right in, and I’ll get your bag.”
Lollie turned to her. “You are a dear, you know that? Thank you.”
“Yes, Miss.” Rosita unlocked the trunk and retrieved the big suitcase, filled with all the items Lollie had asked for over the course of her stay. She tugged the bag out of the trunk and dragged it up the stairs behind her mistress.
Chapter 44
When Rosita brought Miss Lollie into the house, her employer wandered the rooms as if she’d never seen them before, her eyes wide like a child. She touched everything, running her fingertips over the smooth surfaces of the furniture. If Rosita hadn’t known her, she might have thought she was doing a “white glove” test, looking for dust. But Rosita knew better. Miss Lollie trusted her to keep the house clean, and this was just her way of reconnecting with it.
“You happy to be home, Miss Lollie.”
Lollie turned a beaming smile on her. “Oh, Rosita. Yes. I’m delighted.”
Rosita picked up the suitcase and started to roll it around to the back stairs. “I will bring this upstairs for you. Be back down in a minute.”
“Thank you,” Lollie said. “I’ll just be getting reacquainted with my home.”
“De nada.” Rosita trundled the big bag up the stairs, then heaved it onto Miss Lollie’s bed. She unpacked everything, put the dirty clothes in the hamper for now, and then returned the bag to the hall closet. Downstairs, she popped into the kitchen to check on her sauce. She’d left a meat sauce on low heat, having started it for her famous lasagna earlier that morning. It was just starting to stick.
Stirring it well, she turned the heat back up and put on a pot of coffee, calling into the sunroom, where she thought Lollie was. “Miss Lollie? I’m starting a fresh pot of coffee. You want some?”
Lollie appeared in minutes. For some reason, Rosita thought she looked even prettier than before. Her skin shone with a nice glow. Her hair was pretty and bounced on her shoulders. And she had something that seemed almost like hope in her eyes.
“I’d love a cup.” She pulled out a kitchen chair and sat at the table. “Oh, I’ve missed this so much. Just the simple act of sitting in the kitchen. You don’t know what you have until you lose it, Rosita.”
“Si, Miss.” Rosita smiled at her over her shoulder. “You still like cream? I got your half ‘n half at the market yesterday.”
“Oh, yes, please. They just had that powdered chemical stuff at the home.”
Rosita thought it funny that Miss Lollie called the institution a “home.” Her people—right or wrong—had always called it the loony bin. She knew that wasn’t nice, and she never said it in public. But there were definitely a lot of very sick patients there. And Miss Lollie had fit right in with them, in the beginning. But “a home?” It made her think of the place you put old people, like a nursing home.
“Oh, I forgot. Some big boxes came for you. I put them in the den.” Rosita opened the oven and pulled out a tray of biscuits. “And I made you some of your favorite shortbread biscuits. Nice and flaky. Just the way you like them.”
“Thank you.” Lollie’s face blossomed into another huge smile. “Oh, I love your biscuits. Can we have them with red currant jelly?”
“Of course, Miss Lollie. I know your favorite jelly. I have it right here.” Rosita opened the fridge and took out the little jar. “Here you go. You want me to spread some butter on it first?”
“Oh, I love you!” Lollie clapped her hands together. “Yes, please.”
Rosita wondered now if the medicine was making Lollie happier than normal. She seemed like a child at her birthday party, she was so excited over the little things. And if Rosita remembered correctly, she was never like this before. She barely tolerated her in the past, giving orders, rarely smiling.
So, maybe Rosita had a lot to thank those doctors for.
She smiled inwardly and poured a cup of coffee for her newly minted boss. “What do you want to do first today? Relax in your room with a nice book? Go for a walk in the gardens?”
Lollie finished chewing and swallowed a bite of her biscuit. “I want to unpack my new computer and get it going. I’ll set it up in my bedroom on my desk. And then I can continue with my genealogy research.”
“Oh, that’s very nice, Miss.” Inwardly she was thinking she wished they had a little elevator here. In the past, Mr. Colby had carried heavy packages and suitcases up the stairs.
Oh, those stairs.
She wondered if Lollie had noticed that she’d avoided them.
“I rewashed and ironed all your dresses, too. So you have them nice and fresh,” Rosita said. She’d known it wasn’t necessary, but there was only so much cleaning one person could do to stay busy. Caring for the pretty dresses had filled one whole day, and it had made her feel good to handle the frocks. She’d never had clothing like this. Most days she just wore black pants and her maid’s smocks with the big pockets Lollie had bought for her years ago, choosing different colors for her. She had pink, yellow, white, purple, and blue. Today she’d worn the yellow, to be cheerful for Miss Lollie’s homecoming.
Her children didn’t understand how she could work in such a job. They told her she took “too much flak” from Miss Lollie. They barely knew how bad it really had been over the years. She’d never tell them. But now things were better. And she made more money than all of them did at their jobs at Wal-Mart or the grocery store. Even her son, the big manager of the Mobil station, didn’t make what she did. And they needed the money, that was for sure.
With twelve grandchildren in one house, there was always a need for diapers or formula or milk or bread. Good thing it was a big old house, she thought, even if it was pretty run down. Her son had been promising to put on a new roof for
a few weeks now, and she hoped he hurried up before winter came. It already leaked in too many places. And thank God for big bedrooms that fit two sets of bunk beds in each. All they needed was three rooms for the children, and another three for the adults. It worked out fine.
She wasn’t complaining. She was one of the lucky ones.
Lollie finished her biscuit and coffee and stood, brushing the crumbs from her lap. “Oh, I think I made a mess, Rosita.”
“No worries, Miss. I’ll get it.” She reached into the cupboard for the broom and dustpan, quickly swept up the crumbs, and deposited them into the trash. “See? All done.”
“Thank you. What would I do without you?”
Rosita stifled an inner voice that said you’d sweep up your own crumbs. She had to be careful, though, because sometimes this joker inside her made her smile on the outside, and she didn’t want to be seen as smirking at her employer. It was things like that that could get you fired.
Her mother and grandmother always told her, keep a pleasant face. No frowning. No eye rolling. If you have to do those things, do them in private.
So she had. She’d learned to cultivate just the right expressions, even when Miss Lollie used to yell at Mister Colby. She would stay passive and calm. No reaction on her face. It was the best way.
“I’m going to go up. Want to help me carry the boxes?”
“Of course I’ll help you.”
