by Kathi Daley
“So they argued about the direction the publication should take,” I said.
She nodded. “That was part of it. The other problem is that the cash infusion provided by Jasmine turned out to be a temporary fix. It seemed that Cedric wasn’t good with money, and it had only taken him a year to blow through the cash reserves provided by Jasmine. So by the time Cedric died, he’d amassed a huge debt both personally and for the newspaper.” Ainsley slipped her legs out from beneath her and leaned back in the chair. “According to Arnie, his uncle mentioned that Jasmine had tried to get Cedric to sell his half of the newspaper to a man she knew who was interested in an investment, but he refused. The more she tried to persuade him that a buyout would be best for everyone, the more he dug his heels in, and the more desperate she became.” She took in a deep breath before continuing. “The really interesting part of this is that while all this was going on, Jasmine became pregnant.”
“Pregnant? I guess that makes sense since we know she had a daughter, but I never really pictured her as being married.”
“She wasn’t. According to Arnie, Jasmine never told anyone who Irene’s father was. She lived out her life as a single mother.”
“I guess an unwed mother who refused to name the father of her baby was probably quite scandalous back in nineteen twenty. Especially if she was a well-known member of the community and owned her own business.”
Ainsley nodded. “I had that same thought. It also occurred to me that the added stress the pregnancy brought into Jasmine’s life could have helped fuel the feud between Cedric and Jasmine, which seemed to continue to escalate. According to Arnie, Jasper had told him that if Cedric hadn’t died, the partnership and the business would have blown up, taking the owners and the employees down with it.”
“Which means that Jasmine had a really good reason to kill Cedric,” I said.
Rufus jumped up into Ainsley’s lap, and she pulled him to her chest. “Exactly. Although she couldn’t have.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Irene was born the day before Cedric died. Alaric and I discussed it, and we both agreed that while it would be possible for a woman to have given birth the day before she followed a man to a bluff that was miles from town, stabbed him in the back, and then push him over the edge to his death, it wasn’t likely.”
“I suppose I have to agree with that.”
“Arnie told us that while his uncle liked to talk and told him a lot of interesting stories when he was growing up, he didn’t remember that he’d ever said who he believed actually killed Cedric. In fact, he seemed to think that Cedric’s death had been self-inflicted when he jumped from the bluff. He told us he didn’t remember there being anything said in the news about a knife or Cedric being stabbed. He also said that if someone did kill Cedric, Jasmine did seem to have a motive, but she wasn’t the only one.”
“Did he name others as suspects?”
“He mentioned that Cedric’s wife wasn’t too happy about the fact that he couldn’t manage the family’s money, and she was often left without adequate cash to buy groceries. After Cedric died, his wife, Scarlett, remarried to a man it was speculated she’d been seeing before Cedric’s death. I guess this man did quite well financially, so I suppose having Cedric out of the way so she could make a new life for herself and her son might have given her motive.”
My first thought was that if Scarlett wanted out of her marriage, she could have divorced Cedric, but people didn’t get divorced back then. The only real way out for her would have been the death of the man who appeared to have been pulling her down with him.
“And then there were those in town to whom Cedric owed money to,” Ainsley continued. “Arnie told Alaric that after Jasmine inherited the newspaper, she sold half to the investor she’d been trying to get Cedric to sell his half to and promptly paid everyone off. It seems the whole town benefited from Cedric’s death.”
“Poor Alaric. I’m sure that isn’t what he wanted to hear about his great-grandfather.”
“I’m sure it isn’t, but he did come here for the truth and piece by piece, he seems to be putting it together.” She tilted her head as a breeze from the sea distributed drops of moisture on her face. “I love the sea when it is all dark and moody like this.”
“Me too. I love all the moods I’ve witnessed since moving here.” I looked around. “Is Alaric back as well?”
“No. He dropped me off. He said he had a few things to follow up on, and I wanted to go for a run and then read by the fire in my suite for a while before dinner.”
“That sounds like a good plan, but you might not want to wait for the run. I suspect the rain will be here by mid-afternoon.”
“Yeah. I should go change.” She shifted Rufus to the side. “By the way, I think I might have found the location of the house in the photo I came here to find.”
“Oh. How did you do that?”
“I used a program I have on my computer that compares topographical features recorded by satellite with photos. I’ve used it for cases my dad and I worked on, but without a way to narrow down the search parameters to something less than planet earth, it’s hard to really hone in on any one place. Once you suggested Washington and Gooseberry Bay as a possible location, however, that gave me a way to narrow it down, and I got a hit. The place my program suggests as a probable match is a place called Piney Point. It’s on the northeastern end of Gooseberry Bay. It’s still a longshot, but it is something, so when I leave here as I already indicated I would, I plan to pick up Kai and Kallie and head west.”
“That’s a long drive to do on your own.”
She pulled at her hair that had blown across her face. “It is, but Georgia told me that you made a similar cross country drive on your own several years ago.”
“I did.” I paused to remember the fear, determination, and hope I’d felt when I’d set out. “The trip was very cathartic. When I left San Francisco, I was definitely running away from something, but as I made the trip across the country, my pain began to fade, and the anguish I’d been running from somehow turned into hope for what I would find. Each mile that passed, each hour with my thoughts and memories, seemed to act as a sort of balm for my soul. By the time I reached Holiday Bay, I was no longer running from something, I was running toward a new life.”
She smiled sadly. “I hope it’s that way for me. It’s been really hard since my dad died. I just feel so lost and confused. The life I’d built before he died was wonderful, but I know in my soul that what I had is no longer going to be enough. I really do need to find my answers. If I have a mother and a sister out there, I need to find them, or at least find out what happened to them.”
“Do you think that they might be alive?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not. If I did have a mother in the world and she was alive, it seems she would have looked for me, but no one ever did. My dad searched and searched for my identity, but he came up empty every time.”
“Are you sure that the child in the photo is you?” I asked.
The light in her eyes faded a bit. “No. I don’t know that it’s me, but from the moment I saw the photo, I felt a connection to the woman, the baby, and the little girl. When I look at the child in the photo, it feels like me. Of course, if the house in the background is in Washington and the warehouse where my dad found me was in Savannah, Georgia, that’s a lot of ground to have traveled. How did I get from Washington to Georgia? How did I end up in that burning warehouse? Why was I alone? Surely, someone must have brought me from one side of the country to the other. Who? And why? I have so many questions, but I suppose that the biggest question in my mind at this point is whether or not I’ve totally lost my mind. For all I know, the woman is some long-lost friend or relative of my father, and the girls are her children and not connected to me in any way.”
“But you don’t think that’s the case.”
She shook her head. “I don’t. Not only did I feel this immediate connection t
o the people in the photo, but as I mentioned yesterday, I’ve started having dreams about the house as well. And then there’s the diary.”
“Your father’s diary?”
She nodded. “He never comes out and says anything incriminating in his writing, but the diary begins shortly after something occurred that caused some sort of existential crisis. I have the impression, based on his grumbling in the beginning, that he needed to work something out, and someone suggested that he write down his thoughts. What he says is very guarded. Almost too guarded; it’s as if this crisis is so intense and so personal that he can’t risk anyone ever reading about what is really going on, so he uses metaphors. But there are little cracks in the narrative where you can feel his pain. As I said, it’s all very existential on the surface, but I know my dad, and he wasn’t journaling about these deep-seated conflicts as some sort of exercise. He was really going through something heavy.”
I paused as a gust of wind slammed onto the shore. The storm was getting closer. “Are you afraid of what you might find?” I asked.
Ainsley looked at me, seemingly surprised by my question. “Afraid?”
“After my husband died, I found some files that he shouldn’t have had, which led me to investigate what might have been going on in his life during his last months. While there was a part of me that desperately needed the truth, there was also a part of me that was afraid that I’d find out he hadn’t been the man I’d loved and remembered. I was afraid I’d find evidence of someone who’d lived a lie that was only just catching up with him after his death.”
“So what did you find?” she whispered as if she both wanted and didn’t want to know.
“A lot, actually. My husband did lie to me. He lied to a lot of people, but I’ve come to the conclusion that he did what he did from a place of love. A place of wanting to help those he felt a connection to. Of wanting the truth when he was fed nothing but lies. I still don’t have the whole story, but I have learned enough to know that my husband was a good man with good intentions. But even knowing that, I’ve also been left with a taste of betrayal.”
“Betrayal?” she asked.
“I thought we were close, and yet he had all this stuff going on that he never shared with me. There were times he flat out lied to me, and other times when he withheld the truth. It hurts me that he didn’t trust me enough to let me in.”
Ainsley slipped her hand across the space between our chairs and laid it on my arm. “I’m sorry. I suppose that learning that the man you loved had secrets must have been hard on you.”
“It was.” I took a breath. “It is.” I placed my hand over the hand she still rested on my arm. “It sounds like your father had secrets as well. Just be careful. Just be sure that you really want to know the truth.”
She reached over and hugged me. “Thank you for sharing your story. I will keep that in mind as I forge ahead. I don’t want to destroy the memories I have of my father if what actually occurred is vastly different from what I’ve always believed, but if I have a family out there, a mother and a sister, I need to do everything I can to find them.”
“I understand that. If you ever need to talk, I want you to know you can call me and I’ll understand the decisions you might be faced with during the coming months.”
She smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
Chapter 8
By Friday evening, Ainsley had left, Alaric had started spending a lot of his time away from the inn chasing down leads relating to his great-grandfather’s life and death, and four new guests had checked in for the weekend. Amy had paid for her suite at the time of booking, but after all the work she’d done this week to help Georgia get ready for the Harvest Festival, I realized that I should be paying her and not charging her. I offered her a refund, which she declined, but I did insist on doing something to thank her for all her help, so we settled on a gift card for a three-week stay after the holidays when we had plenty of vacancies.
The Harvest Festival would run from noon to five on Saturday and Sunday. Jeremy had the yard, including the pumpkin patch, looking perfect. The storm that had blown in earlier in the week had blown back out, leaving a weather forecast promising plentiful sunshine. Georgia had lined up face painters for the kids and beer tasting for the adults. The band Lonnie and Colt were part of had agreed to play both days. In addition to the face painting and pumpkin patch, the local chamber of commerce had set up craft tables so children and their parents could make a keepsake to take with them at the end of their day.
Georgia and I had discussed the fact that we’d need to provide dinner for the guests who were staying at the inn shortly after the crowd from town left, so we arranged to have a late patio dinner under the stars for both the guests staying at the inn and a few close friends.
“It looks like we can expect a warm spell over the weekend, but I think I’ll get the patio heaters out and ready to go should we need them,” Jeremy said as we went over our last minute To-Do List.
“That’s a good idea. The lights you strung overhead should be adequate for dining. We’ll light candles for the tables. Georgia plans to make lasagna ahead of time, so all she’ll need to do on Saturday is stick it in the oven. She’s even going to pre-make the salads and have garlic bread ready to pop in the oven.”
“I think dinner under the stars and patio lights will make for a very cozy setting,” Jeremy said. “Do you mind if I invite Mylie?”
“Please do. She’s been helping as much as everyone else. I suppose we should give Georgia a headcount. We have plenty of tables, but she’ll need to know how much lasagna to make.”
“Lonnie, Lacy, Colt, and Tanner make four,” Jeremy said. “You, Georgia, and Nikki make seven. Mylie and I make nine, and we currently have nine guests, including Amy, which makes eighteen. Annabelle will be spending Saturday night at Hannah’s house, so we won’t have her to worry about.”
“Let’s tell Georgia to plan for twenty. We always end up inviting someone who didn’t come to mind during the first count. We can set up two tables of ten. We have those long tablecloths we used the last time we had a dinner party on the patio. It might be easiest to set the food and drinks out buffet style, so let’s set up three of the long tables.”
“I’ll have Annabelle carve a couple jack-o’-lanterns for the food table after dinner this evening,” Jeremy offered. “She’s been bugging me to do one ever since we got the first batch of pumpkins.”
“I’ll pick up fall bouquets for the tables as well. I want the guests to feel like we’re making an effort and that feeding them isn’t just an afterthought. Dinner will be late, so I’ll have Georgia set out appetizers as well.”
“That’s a good idea, but keep in mind that the guests have all shared their intent to attend the festival tomorrow, so they will probably have been snacking all day. Still, something that will freeze if not needed is a good idea. I’ll update the chalkboard to let the guests know about the dinner.”
“I’m heading in. I’ll talk to Georgia and update the chalkboard,” I offered. “You just take care of making sure the heaters work and the tables are in good repair.”
After I spoke to Georgia and updated the chalkboard with the dinner event, I headed back to the cottage. Georgia had a nice dinner planned for the guests, but I’d left a message for Colt asking him to come by if he was able. I still clung to the hope that he would despite the fact I hadn’t heard back from him. Deciding to try his cell again, I let it ring five times and expected to get his voicemail once again when he answered.
“Abby. I’m so sorry I didn’t call you back. It’s been a crazy day.”
I leaned a hip against the counter. “I understand. I hoped you could come to the cottage for dinner tonight. Georgia and Amy are planning a formal meal for the guests, but I thought the two of us could slum it and just eat out on my little deck.”
He paused. I thought he was going to claim to be too busy, but when he finally spoke, I found him agreeing to my idea. “Do you
have something, or should I pick up take out?”
“I can grab something from the kitchen. I think there are ribs and slaw leftover from last night’s dinner. Ainsley left early, Alaric was in town for dinner last evening, and the other guests hadn’t arrived yet, so it was just Jeremy, Annabelle, Georgia, Amy, and me. We had a lot of food left, and it was delicious.”
“It sounds delicious. The food you serve at the inn always is.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw baked beans in the refrigerator as well. I have wine, but if you want beer, you might want to pick some up. I think Jeremy and Tanner finished off what we had after they strung the electrical for the band. Are you still planning to be here this weekend?”
“I am unless I have a break in my murder case or something unforeseen happens. I’ll pick up some beer.” He blew out a breath. “I’m really looking forward to this. It’s been a long day at the end of a long week.”
After I hung up, I headed over to the inn to raid the refrigerator. I liked to share dinner with our guests occasionally, and I made an effort to be there for breakfast, but most of the time, I ate in the cottage at the end of the day. There might be those who would argue that as the owner of the inn, I should play hostess for every meal, but the truth of the matter was that I liked my privacy and really needed quiet time mixed into my daily schedule. Between Georgia and Jeremy, they took care of the cooking, serving, and clean up, so I mostly just picked and chose when to join the guests and when to eat alone.
“Looking for a snack?” Georgia asked after I opened the large refrigerator we kept at the inn and began digging around.
“No. Colt is coming to dinner when he gets off, so I’m just going to heat up the leftovers from last night and eat in the cottage. Is there any of that broccoli salad left?”
“Yes, in the storage container with the orange lid. We have ribs, baked beans, slaw, and corn as well.”
