Out of the Picture

by Tracy Gardner

  As they waited, Savanna stared at the painting above Caroline’s piano on the east wall. The frame perfectly complemented the deep mahogany of the well-preserved upright Baldwin. Her eyes blurred. She blinked, hard, and again, trying to clear her vision: there was something wrong with the upper-left corner of the Laurant. The dark edge of the man’s hairline was offset by the bright background, except for one spot. The area was discolored, appearing one-dimensional. Laurant took painstaking efforts to add depth and texture to his work using a chiaroscuro technique.

  Savanna rose and moved closer to the painting. That abrupt change in the painting from dark to light was off and didn’t fit with the rest of the portrait.

  Or did it? Looking up at the piece from only a few feet away now, Savanna didn’t see the discordant spot.

  “Savanna?” Caroline’s voice startled her from her musings. “Do you think… Should we try to go back in there?”

  “No. Caroline, no. It’s okay. If there’s anything to be done to help Eleanor, Dr. Gallager and his team in there will do it.” Savanna returned to the couch and took Caroline’s hand again, covering it with her other one. The Laurant across from her looked unremarkable. She was overtired, or stressed, or both, seeing things that weren’t there.

  Savanna could have hugged Lauren when she finally arrived. She was so out of her depth, and she had no idea how to handle things with Caroline if Eleanor passed. She rose, then sat. Then stood again, moving to the doorway. She should go try to help.

  Before Savanna could get all the way down the dark hall to the parlor, Aidan appeared in the doorway. His suit jacket gone, Aidan’s head was down as he took off his gloves, then ran a hand over the top of his head, leaving it at the back of his neck. He stood stock still for a long moment before looking up to find Savanna watching him.

  He silently shook his head.

  Oh. Poor Eleanor. Poor Caroline. Savanna resumed walking and met him halfway.

  “I have to tell her,” he said, his voice low.

  Savanna didn’t know what to say. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, there was sweat on his brow, and he looked…defeated. “I’m sorry,” she said in a whisper. “Eleanor was in her eighties. You did everything you could to save her.”

  Aidan shook his head. “I just don’t get it. I don’t think it was her heart. The EKG didn’t reflect that. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Savanna frowned. What was he saying?

  He sighed, meeting her eyes. “I don’t know,” he said, as if reading her mind. “But I have to tell Caroline. The paramedics will take Eleanor out the back, and the medical examiner will call her family from the hospital.”

  Savanna watched him walk slowly to the living room.

  Returning home to Sydney’s that night, finally, near midnight, Savanna had never been so happy to see the cotton-candy-pink bedroom. She threw the bright yellow throw pillows on the floor, grabbed the unicorn-kitty stuffed animal Nolan had given her for safekeeping, and crawled into her cozy bed, pulling the comforter up over her head. Fonzie turned in circles until he’d settled himself tight against her legs. She dreamed of Caroline in her mural, on a sailboat, far out to sea on stormy waters.

  Chapter Three

  “Not too much,” Harlan Shepherd cautioned. “You’ll kill it if you overdo it.”

  Savanna hovered over a steaming casserole dish on the stove in her parents’ kitchen. She added a little more maple Dijon to the dish, glancing at her dad before putting it back in the oven for the last few minutes.

  “Like that?” She realized Holy Yum Baked Chicken might have been a bit too ambitious for her meager cooking skills. But she knew her dad would step in to help.

  Sunday dinners were a Shepherd family tradition, with everyone taking turns to prepare unique dishes—except for Charlotte, Savanna’s mother. Charlotte enjoyed baking, but she’d declared long ago that she’d leave the cooking to her talented husband. Sydney’s choices tended to be vegan, organic, ultra-healthy meals; Skylar always made standard meat-and-potato fare but with a twist, like her Italian meatloaf last week; and Harlan was famous for his knack with the grill. It was probably just an excuse to be outdoors, but nobody complained, as he came up with the most delicious, inimitable concoctions.

  Savanna had used Google. She was out of practice with her family’s tradition, but the Holy Yum Baked Chicken had looked delicious online. With the dish back in the oven now, she turned to the island countertop to finish frosting her brownies, her own specialty that she could never screw up.

  Out of nowhere, Nolan appeared, climbing up onto one of the stools. “We can have two desserts today?”

  Savanna laughed. “Oh boy, Nolan, I don’t think so. We only have two desserts on Wednesdays, and only at Sydney’s house.”

  He sighed, seeming to accept the explanation. He was such a sweet boy.

  “But,” she whispered, “you can be my taste tester, okay?” She cut a tiny corner out of the brownie pan, placing it on a napkin and letting it cool.

  Skylar walked in with Travis just as Nolan popped the brownie in his mouth. “Bad influence.” She scowled at Savanna. Even out of her business attire, dressed in jeans and a crisp pink button-down blouse, Skylar looked professional, like casual-Friday Barbie, fresh out of the box.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nolan is an important part of my kitchen team.” She smiled at him.

  Skylar rolled her eyes. “I’m sure.” Her phone buzzed and she quickly swiped the screen to answer the call.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Harlan told her as she glanced back over her shoulder, heading out of the room. He went to the sink to wash his hands, and then rolled his dark-green flannel shirt sleeves back down over muscled, sinewy forearms. He went around the polished concrete countertop and scooped up Nolan with one hand, tossing him over his shoulder as the little boy shrieked in delight. Savanna’s dad stood 6’2” and still had the build of a linebacker at fifty-five. His thick, wavy brown hair had a hint of gray at the temples now, and his crow’s feet were a little deeper than Savanna remembered, but Harlan Shepherd would always be the foundation of this family. He was the best man she knew.

  They were seated around the table, passing a basket of rolls, when Skylar rejoined them, taking her seat next to her husband Travis. Savanna hadn’t spent much time around him yet, but Travis seemed like the perfect husband. He’d already set Nolan up with his plate in his booster seat, and was tucking a napkin into the toddler’s shirt. Travis and Skylar had met while working opposing sides on a commercial property case a few years ago. Travis was a civil engineer for a company in Muskegon, just north of Carson. He somehow worked his schedule around Skylar’s, limiting the time Nolan had to spend with a sitter and handling most of the cooking.

  Savanna had thought she’d found the perfect partner in Rob, but she’d been wrong. She and Rob had been engaged for almost two years, and now, looking back, she knew he was the reason they’d never set an actual date. Every time she’d brought it up, Rob had given another excuse to wait. Savanna mentally kicked herself for not seeing the signs.

  Skylar made a show of turning her phone all the way off and setting it face-down on the table. “Sorry about that.”

  “I thought Mom would be home by now,” Sydney said. Their mother was due back that night from Boston, but Savanna knew she didn’t always have control over where and when her job took her.

  “She’ll make it for dessert, don’t worry,” Harlan said.

  The family dove in. Savanna’s Holy Yum Baked Chicken was delicious, thanks to the assist from her dad. The sauce had turned out great, the perfect combination of spicy and sweet. Fresh asparagus, rice, garlic bread, and a dry, locally produced white wine complemented the meal.

  “Savvy, you learned to cook in Chicago! This is so good,” Syd said, reaching for another helping. Her silver bracelets jangled musically as she ladled the pasta o
nto her plate.

  “Hey. I could always cook.”

  “You just hid it well,” Skylar cracked.

  Travis elbowed his wife. “Pot, meet kettle.”

  “What? I cook!”

  Travis smirked and took another bite. “Okay, then. This is really good.”

  Skylar rolled her eyes for the second time that night. “I can cook. You just usually beat me to it,” she told Travis.

  At that moment, the front door opened and slammed shut, and Charlotte appeared, breathless, in the dining room doorway. Her cheeks were flushed from the chill in the air. Her wavy auburn hair was pulled up into a messy bun, tendrils spiraling down to brush the shoulders of her smart taupe suit, crisp white collar peeking out above the lapels. Harlan rose and went to her, taking her bags out of her hands. She hugged him, and Savanna watched her dad’s arm remain around Charlotte’s waist when she let go.

  She looked up at him. “I told you I’d make it.”

  Savanna’s dad planted a kiss on her. “Yes, you did.” He smiled.

  That was it, Savanna thought. That was what she wanted. A man who’d look at her like her dad looked at her mother—like, no matter what else was going on in his life, nothing was complete until she was back in his arms. Rob had never looked at her that way.

  “Oh my, honey,” her mother exclaimed after her first bite. “This is quite a comeback act. Delicious.”

  “Mom,” she said, “did you hear about what happened at Caroline’s when I was there Friday?”

  “Your father told me,” Charlotte replied. “Poor Mrs. Pietila. And poor Caroline.”

  “Yes. She was very upset. I still don’t know what happened.”

  “What do you mean? I thought she had a heart attack?”

  Sydney shook her head. “I don’t buy that. That woman walked her dog almost a full mile into town and back every single day. Her collie loved the doggie ice cream I’ve started making. Mrs. Pietila would come in and have some tea while she let Mr. Wags finish his ice cream. She always seemed totally fine. How could it have been her heart?”

  “Dr. Gallager even thought something didn’t add up with the way she died,” Savanna added. One minute, Eleanor had been fine, looking up book titles, and the next minute she’d dropped her Claret and was gone. Savanna had seen the shattered glass on the floor, Aidan at Eleanor’s side… What if it was a reaction to the wine? She’d finished hers, but Savanna and Caroline hadn’t touched theirs yet. No. That just didn’t make sense.

  Charlotte looked up from her plate. “Dr. Gallager was there? When it happened?”

  “Yes, he came by to check on something with Caroline. Did you know she has a heart monitor? Why has she not told us about that?”

  Skylar spoke up. “She did. I knew about it. It’s no big deal. Her doctor is just being cautious.”

  Sydney scowled at her older sister. “You knew the woman we think of as our grandmother had something going on with her heart, and you didn’t think to tell the rest of us?”

  Skylar’s eyebrows went up. “Relax. She told me because she wanted to make sure her will was up to date.”

  “What?” Savanna couldn’t keep her volume down. “Her will? And this heart monitor thing is no big deal? You can’t keep that kind of thing from us, Skylar! Caroline is even older than Mrs. Pietila, who just died of a heart attack.”

  “Alleged heart attack,” Sydney muttered.

  Charlotte threw her hands in the air. “All right, girls, that’s enough.” Slight and petite, Charlotte didn’t look intimidating. But as much as Harlan was the foundation, Charlotte was the ruling force, and all three sisters knew it. “Skylar was doing her job as Caroline’s attorney. Caroline’s health is privileged information, unless she chooses to tell us herself. Which she hasn’t, which must mean that she isn’t worried. Which means we shouldn’t worry. And, Savanna, your imagination has always been overactive. Eleanor’s obituary says she passed away due to heart disease. If her family is fine with that consensus, I’m sure that’s what it was.”

  “You all need to remember that Caroline is tough,” Harlan added. “And she’s in very good hands if Dr. Gallager is looking after her.”

  Savanna shook her head. “Okay, who even is this guy? I keep hearing how amazing he is, but he’s super young. Where did he come from? How does everyone know he’s so great?”

  “He’s been running the practice in town for at least six or seven years,” Harlan said. “I know because I built the addition when Dr. Milano sold to it to him.”

  Skylar nodded. “He is good, Savanna. He’s more than qualified to handle Caroline’s health.”

  “He moved here so his wife would be closer to her family,” Charlotte said. “When she passed two years ago, he stayed.”

  “Oh.” Savanna was quiet. Dr. Gallager was a widower. She suddenly felt guilty for being so critical of him.

  “You don’t need to worry,” Skylar said. “He’s got great credentials, and he seems like a good guy. I helped him with some legal and financial matters after his wife died.”

  “He isn’t dating anyone,” Sydney said, her sing-songy voice giving her away as she wiggled her eyebrows at Savanna.

  “I don’t think he’s dated since losing Olivia, and we are not playing matchmaker,” Charlotte said sternly to Sydney. “Savanna is just fine on her own for now.”

  Savanna’s mother understood. She wasn’t even a full month out from a crushing breakup with her fiancé. The last thing she needed was more man trouble.

  Sydney sighed. “You guys are no fun at all.”

  “I am!” Nolan chimed in. “I’m fun at all! We can have dessert now?”

  The room erupted in laughter, and Savanna went to fetch the brownies. Nolan was so good at making the family lighten up. She carried over a tray of frosted chocolate chunk brownies along with a carton of French vanilla ice cream and a stack of bowls, giving Nolan a wink as she passed him. Every day presented one more reason Savanna was grateful to be back in Carson—today, Sunday night dinner and Nolan were two reasons. She’d happily compete with Sydney for the favorite aunt title.

  Monday mornings were different now that Savanna was heading four blocks away to the red-brick elementary school, rather than making the mad rush to the train in Chicago amid throngs of other commuters. The weather in Carson was perfect for the short walk from Sydney’s house. She’d probably have to start driving when fall turned to winter, but for now she thoroughly enjoyed the crisp, sunny autumn air. She popped her earbuds in and hit play on the Hamilton musical cast recording; she had a constantly rotating playlist of Broadway soundtracks. She’d been in a Hamilton mood lately; before that, it had been Mamma Mia nonstop.

  She’d chosen a royal blue dress with a Peter Pan collar and A-line skirt today, her hair pinned back on one side to reveal small gold earrings. She’d almost never worn dresses in Chicago; attire at the museum was stuffy and masculine. The one time she’d tried to have a little fun with her wardrobe, wearing a red dress with a sparkling Santa Claus on the front last December, Rob had pulled her aside and asked what she thought she was doing. Her appearance was promoting an unprofessional atmosphere, he’d said. Well, as an elementary art teacher, Savanna would wear whatever made her happy. Today, the swishy blue skirt and her matching embroidered flats made her happy.

  Savanna stopped in the teacher’s lounge for coffee before heading to her classroom. The normally quiet room was buzzing with gossip.

  “Caroline Carson saw it happen?”

  “No, I heard she wasn’t even there. She found her that way.”

  “Maybe it was a home invasion!”

  “I heard paramedics had to break the door down to get in.”

  “Did she die instantly?”

  “I heard she died on the way to the hospital.”

  “Are you sure it was Mrs. Pietila?”

  “I heard
she and Caroline Carson hated each other!”

  What the heck? Savanna quietly drifted to the back of the room and poured herself a coffee.

  “Shhh!”

  “Hush,” a whispered voice near Savanna spoke, and she turned, thinking they were all quieting because they’d noticed she’d arrived. How would they even know she was there at Caroline’s when it had happened?

  The cluster of six or seven teachers at the break table were looking toward the door, where Jack Carson, Caroline’s grandson, had just entered. Jack was the librarian; Savanna’s classroom sat right next to the library.

  “Morning,” he addressed the group.

  The room remained uncomfortably quiet as Jack joined Savanna at the counter, pulling his coffee mug from the hook over the sink. As he poured himself a cup, she read the caption on the mug, below the picture of a stack of multicolored books: I like my coffee strong and my books long.

  He turned to face the room, steaming cup in one hand. A pair of glasses were tucked into the breast pocket of his pale blue button-down shirt, and he smelled of aftershave. The muscle in his jaw pulsed as he contemplated the group.

  “My grandmother was with Mrs. Pietila when she died. They loved each other. They’d been friends since grade school. There was no home invasion, no foul play, no broken-down door. We believe it was a heart attack. Mrs. Pietila didn’t suffer—though that doesn’t seem to be what you’re all worried about.” He raised his eyebrows.

  Savanna was instantly reminded of the one primary pitfall of living in a small town: everyone knew everyone else’s business. And bad news traveled twice as fast as good, and was almost always inaccurate. She watched Jack exit through the door of the lounge, hanging back in her spot against the counter. She wondered if she’d been part of the gossip before arriving, but this group seemed to have no idea she’d even witnessed the events of Friday night—probably a good thing. Someone here must have gotten a little misinformation from one of the responding medical team and embellished the story from there.

  Savanna didn’t see Jack Carson the rest of the day until he handed off the after-school pick-up lane to her. She took the orange and yellow safety vest from him, dropping it over her head and waving a few cars through. When he turned to head back into the school, Savanna stopped him by saying, “I was with your grandmother Friday when Mrs. Pietila died. I hope she’s okay?”