“Yeah. Dayton didn’t have a phone either, so we don’t have pics, but we read it right. The prescription was for Colleen Kirby.”
“And you really, really don’t have any reasons not to trust Dayton?”
“Dayton and I danced together for a million years, and we were almost always in the same class in elementary. Dayton’s trustworthy. Maybe not as smart as I am, but trustworthy.”
There was no hint of ego in her statement. It was just fact. Most likely none of her peers had been as smart as she was, if she’d been taking classes for college credit since she was in middle school.
Taylor rubbed the back of her neck to ease the tension. Even she hadn’t been as smart as her sister. “Okay. We trust Dayton. We know Colleen is being treated with a medicine commonly used for bipolar disorder, and she seemed both high energy and anxious tonight. What else?”
“Don’t forget she already had a room for me.”
“How did her husband seem?”
“Dave was really quiet. Nice, but he didn’t say much. You might not be able to, living with Colleen and the boys. Those three made a lot of noise. The little guys never stopped talking. They had to show me their rooms, their train set, their bikes, their iPads. Even their baby books. It was intense.”
“Family pictures?”
“Yeah.”
“Anything funny about them?”
Belle nodded. “You’re smart. In every family portrait Colleen was wearing the same necklace, a small gold bell on a thin chain. She wasn’t wearing it tonight.”
“Because the real Belle was finally with her.” Taylor rubbed her neck again, but no matter how much she repeated that action, the tension was only getting worse.
“Yeah.” Belle exhaled. “It was kind of intense, really. Out there, in the world, this woman has been constantly thinking of me, all the time. She had a photo album for me too, with the pictures Mom always sent to her friends. And…other stuff. Some early report cards, some ballet pictures. Some artwork from elementary school.”
“Woah. How do you feel about that? Your life being shared without you knowing?”
“I’m torn. If, um…if Colleen didn’t kill Mom, then I’m glad she had that stuff through the years. She seems like she really loves me.” Belle’s eyes were fixed on her hands.
That book their mom had read when Belle was a baby, described the adopted child’s feelings as a honeycomb—complex and strong, with flavors that range from sweet to bitter based on what fed the bees. At the time, Taylor didn’t get it. Belle had been a baby, how complex could her feelings have been?
But she wasn’t a baby anymore. She was sixteen and had just discovered that the woman who gave birth to her had indeed loved her just as much as the woman who raised her.
Again, Taylor found herself thinking about the dock on the sleepy South Yamhill River. Her mom’s shoe had gotten stuck in the board, she had seen the chip in the wood herself. Her mother had fallen and hit her head on a rock, a terrible accident that could happen to anyone.
It didn’t need to be Colleen Kirby’s fault, did it? Just because they were arguing didn’t mean Colleen pushed her in the river. “Tell me again why you didn’t have your phones on?”
Belle smiled that sly smile of hers that Taylor now assumed meant she knew how much smarter than everyone else she was. “You didn’t know where we were, so I figured you’d blow the thing up with texts. I didn’t want Colleen to think I had to sneak away to visit her.”
Taylor had several thoughts about that, including that being a sneaky and smart teenager was the worst combination ever, but she didn’t say anything. It was too late, and she didn’t have the energy for an argument. “I bet you’re exhausted. Why don’t you hit the hay and we’ll go out for breakfast tomorrow and compare notes again?” Taylor stood up and pushed her chair in. “The best thing we could find out from all of this, is that it was all just a terrible accident, right?”
The look of appreciation that Belle gave her was worth avoiding a fight.
Taylor tried to give Belle a hug on her way to bed, but Belle didn’t accept.
And that was okay too.
It wasn’t, not really, but it would have to be.
* * *
When Taylor got up the next morning at eight, Belle was fast asleep.
She managed to get some oatmeal fixed for Grandpa and get him his medicine.
“Your mom was wrong,” Grandpa Ernie said sipping his coffee from the comfort of the recliner in the front room. “That girl isn’t Belle, she’s sleeping beauty.”
Taylor chuckled. That wasn’t a bad joke for someone who isn’t always sure who he’s talking to.
“I’ll get her over to the store for you by the time you open. Give you time to learn how to make one of those videos.”
Taylor exhaled sharply. There was enough work to do at the store without that.
“Trust me, you don’t want to leave your fans without new content much longer.”
“Okay.” New content? Who was this social media guru sitting in her Grandpa Ernie’s chair?
“What? You’re agreeing just like that?” Grandpa Ernie laughed.
“You’re not wrong. I’ll get into the shop asap and figure this thing out.”
“You’re a good girl.”
Taylor kissed his head and then went to get ready for a long day’s work. She and her sister would have to have their more serious conversation later.
Fortified with a cup of coffee and snuggled into Grandpa’s recliner at the shop, Taylor decided to spend some time with her mom. It wasn’t easy, but it was good. The videos were her, alive in a way that all the photos in the albums were not.
Her mom had a funny way of tucking her hair behind her ear using only her pinky finger. Taylor wondered if her mom had picked it up so she wouldn’t get food in her hair while she was cooking. Taylor had forgotten about that little quirk, but her mom did it three times in the ten minute video. How could she have forgotten that? And her mom’s habit of saying “anyways” instead of anyway. She had forgotten that as well. But she had these videos. A whole lot of them and what she really wished was that she had more. Many, many more. And that they weren’t just about sewing.
The Quinn’s hadn’t been a camcorder family when Taylor was little. And maybe her mom’s phone had lots of videos of Belle on it now. Taylor knew it had a few, but her mom was behind the camera, not in front of it. She wanted a video of her mom playing dominos with them during a power outage, and of her weeding the garden with her funny old foam covered headphones on, and of her buying groceries, and driving the old station wagon, and giving her love advice the time she and Clay broke up, and of both her mom and dad….
Nope.
That was one too many.
Taylor shut the computer. She desperately wanted video of her dad, and had wanted it for many years, but she didn’t have it and wasn’t going to get it.
Guiltily, she opened her computer again so she could play around with iMovie. That little app would be the key to keeping the online income flowing their way.
She had messed around with it just enough to feel like it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, when she was interrupted by a call.
Maddie Carpenter’s number was flashing so Taylor answered it.
“What’s up?”
“You and I need to have an appointment without Belle so we can talk about this course of treatment.” Maddie cut straight to the chase.
“What do you mean ‘course of treatment’?”
“Our investigation into your mom’s death is highly unorthodox. We need to come up with a firm plan, together, about how it is going to work, boundaries and all of that.” She sounded very professional—even defensive.
“One question first. Did Hudson call you?” Taylor’s hand clenched the phone. Was Maddie angry with her for something that man had said?
“Yes.”
“Did he have concerns about the overnighter?”
“Yes.” Maddie’s single wo
rd answers were clipped.
“Did he…threaten you?” Taylor leaned forward in the chair, breath caught. What had she gotten them all into?
“You could say that. First, he questioned me about what I was doing, then he said if he had even a hint of suspicion about my actions toward Belle, he was going to call services to children and families.”
“Is it even called that anymore?” Taylor switched hands on the phone, shaking her right hand to relieve the tension.
“No, but it’s what he said. Listen, I think this is really going to help Belle, but it’s not worth losing my license over.”
“That’s your concern?” Taylor’s lip curled in disgust.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Maddie’s voice lacked what little warmth it had had last time they talked. It was icy cold. “I did nothing wrong and will do nothing wrong, but a complaint like that and an investigation would ruin me, even though they would find I was innocent. He’s such a jerk.”
“He was concerned for my sister. That’s hardly the thing a jerk would do.” Taylor stood and began to pace. If she had been back home, she could have gone to the chiropractor to work the knots out of her shoulders. She could have gone to the gym and used the sauna or the hot tub to help ease the tension. She could have hit the mall and walked off her anger, and shopped until her anxiety was gone.
She longed for nothing more than a long day downtown replenishing her work wardrobe at Nordstrom’s. Filling her bookshelves at Powells. She glanced around the dated quilt shop. Everything in it was her mother’s taste, and from at least fifteen years ago. To run from store to store in a town that had stores just to fix Flour Sax up would have been powerfully healing.
Instead, she replied to her angry friend’s demands. “When do you want to meet?”
“I’m free right now. Why don’t I come to the shop?”
“Fine.” Taylor hung up.
Taylor was surprised Maddie didn’t just fire them as clients. She wondered if she was sticking this out because she actually did care about them as friends. Then again, psychology was a field that highly regarded innovation and getting articles published. If this crazy idea of Maddie’s worked, she could get famous.
Or not.
What did Taylor know about the world of child psychology?
Maddie knocked at the back door of the store not ten minutes later. She was dressed for a jog and turned down Taylor’s offer of a cup of coffee.
“First things first.” She and Taylor sat across from each other at one of the worktables in the sewing class area. “The only place I will be alone with Belle is my office, with you in the waiting room. I am not going to stand in as a chaperone, and there will be no more overnighters.”
“Suits me.” Taylor sipped her coffee.
Maddie was flushed, partly from her run and definitely also from her chagrin at getting caught being unprofessional. “If I weren’t seeing her as a client, it would be different.”
“Totally.”
“Second, after any research together, we will meet at my office to make formal notes on it, both for the file and so we can talk with Belle to process it. This experience will be useless if she isn’t able to process it with me.”
“Fine.” Taylor’s heart was sinking as Maddie spoke. Even though she had anticipated this terse conversation, she had hoped it would be different. That face to face the old friends would be…friendly.
“And finally, any evidence of criminal activity discovered will be reported to the police immediately.”
“That’s only reasonable. Hey, do you know how to make a good YouTube video?” Taylor spun her phone in Maddie’s direction. Yes, she was being passive aggressive. She didn’t like this black mark on her sisterly-parenting skills any more than Maddie liked it on her professionalism. They had both screwed up, and it was frankly embarrassing.
“What? No. Are you paying attention?”
“Yes, I am. You need to have an appointment with Belle soon. She went rogue and investigated her primary suspect last night. Can we get in later today?”
Maddie gritted her teeth. “I suppose you can’t leave the shop while it’s open.”
“Roxy has the day off since she covered for me while I was gone. It will have to be after we close.”
Maddie checked her phone. “Can’t. I’m sorry, Dave has a business dinner tonight and I have to go.”
“How about tomorrow around this time?”
“Okay.” Maddie added it to her calendar then stood. “I still think this will work.”
Taylor turned her phone over and made eye contact. “Why? It’s not normal. Why do you think this will do any good at all? No one has investigated themselves out of grief before.”
“No, you misunderstand.” She scooted her chair closer. “We’re not trying to bypass the grieving process. I’m wanting to help her start it healthy. She’s a wreck right now—not a healthy wreck. I can help her the traditional way, but I think this is better. I really, honestly, do. We can’t be careless. That’s all.” She had slipped up, sounding soft and caring in the middle of her speech, but she fixed it fast.
Taylor sighed. “I don’t know how I could possibly care more. I know you’re saying let’s not be sloppy, but nothing felt sloppy. I’m just…I’m not her mom.”
“No, you’re not, and you’re only going to be the person responsible for her well-being for a very short time. Let’s not screw it up, okay?”
“I am honest to God doing my best.”
The front door to the shop jangled as someone tried to get in. The shop was hours away from opening. Taylor didn’t turn around to see who it was.
“You’d better get that.” Maddie was facing the door. “It’s Grandma Quinny.”
Her grandmother was bundled up against the crisp spring morning in what could only be called English tweed. That and a paisley pashmina. None of it looked springy. Taylor welcomed her to their little worktable and offered her coffee.
“Thank you, indeed. It’s not warm out there.”
Taylor agreed.
“Darling, I had so much to say when you were over, but I really didn’t get to the heart of things. Not after our talk about…” She glanced and tucked her pashmina a little tighter. “But there was more, and here it is: If Belle is giving you too much trouble, you know what you need to do.” She jutted her chin out and lifted her eyebrows.
Taylor frowned. “You wanted me to move back to Portland, right?”
“In an ideal world, you would be back home shortly after your sister graduates. But in the meantime, if you find her a challenge too big for you to handle, you are to move in with me.”
Taylor caught Maddie’s eye. To say she was shocked was selling her feelings short. “That’s really kind of you…”
“If I were in charge, you’d already be there. I have plenty of room.”
“To be honest, Grandma…I didn’t know we were invited.”
Her eyes went wide. “Well!”
“I mean, you hadn’t said anything.”
“I would think a grandmother wouldn’t have to ask. You should know my door is always open to you and your sister.”
“Thanks.” Taylor tried to wrap her mind around what her Grandma was offering and the implications. Belle claimed Grandma Quinny wouldn’t even say hi to her on the street, but Grandma was saying she had expected them to move in with her. Then again, she said the door was open to her and “her sister”. Was that a weighted term? Was Belle’s value to Grandma only that she was Taylor’s sister? She didn’t know. She couldn’t tell. “It’s only been a few weeks, and I think I’ve already made every wrong decision that could be made.”
“Taylor…” Grandma Quinny’s tone wasn’t any softer, but that was just the way she spoke. She couldn’t help it. “I’m here for you, always.”
“I guess I just worry about Grandpa.” Taylor waved her hand toward his empty recliner.
“Why, love? He’d be thrilled to have you. We haven’t seen nearly enough of you in y
ears.”
“I mean Grandpa Ernie.”
“Ahh.” She pressed her lips together and nodded. “I don’t know what his finances are like, and I don’t dare to pry, but it is likely time to consider a home. He’s a good ten years older than we are, you know. Bible Creek Care Home is lovely. The Methodists run it and do a good job.”
“He’s not a Methodist.” Even Taylor knew that was the wrong complaint, but she wasn’t ready to kick Grandpa out of his home so she could run off to her other grandparents. It felt an awful lot like cheating on him. Too much like how Clay had so quickly found another woman to live with after telling her he wasn’t willing to move here. For heaven’s sake, he was in someone else’s place after only a week.
One week.
Lila must have been waiting in the wings all along.
And no matter how many times he said they were just friends and he was only crashing at her place, she had seen they way he looked at Lila when she left. If they had been ‘just friends’ before he moved in, they certainly weren’t still ‘just friends’. “I’ll look into it.” Taylor spoke up before Grandma could respond to her other, more nonsensical comment. “But I can tell you I don’t think I’m ready yet. It’s just so many changes at once. I know Grandpa Ernie and Belle are a lot of responsibility for me, but I’m used to being independent.” She laughed, embarrassed. “I’m almost thirty, Grandma. I haven’t needed someone to look after me for quite a long time.”
Grandma Quinny nodded in approval. “I thought as much. We Quinns don’t raise weak women. But if it gets to be too much, the second it does and not one second later, you call me, do you understand?”
“Yes, Grandma.” Taylor wanted to invite her to dinner with them. She had hosted those friends of her mom’s. She could make another pot roast. But Grandpa and Grandpa Quinny didn’t go to other people’s homes. It would be silly when theirs was so large and comfortable. Grandma Quinny wasn’t much of a cook, but that was okay, since they could afford catering.
“Now, Taylor, I was just headed to the market and I don’t have a lot of time today. Remember, Grandma is only a phone call away.” She stood and gripped her purse in a carefully manicured hand. She might live on a hobby farm, but you’d never know it from her fingernails.
Assault and Batting Page 9
