“That is…. that’s gross. That’s really disgusting, isn’t it? I bet they’re there all the time eating.” She shivered at the thought of contaminated food. She might be from a small town, but she had never been much of a country girl.
“Maybe so. But it looks like they’re living off the trash from several of the dumpsters on the block. I’d like to board up the hole for now to keep them from getting back in.”
“But?”
“You need to hire an exterminator to get them out before it’s worth fixing the wall correctly, and then the cleanup….oh man. The insulation is disgusting. It has to come out and be replaced. I don’t like the idea of you doing that.”
“Because disease?”
“Yup.”
“You do odd jobs….is that the kind of thing you’d do?”
“I like to say I do side jobs.” He leaned on the counter, comfortably. “I do have steady employment. But yes, I could do that.”
“Well….” Taylor tried to remember the huge pile of cash in the bank and not freak out about this expense. “Better sooner than later, right?”
“Call the exterminator first, get them out, and then I’ll take care of the rest. I don’t want you to have to worry about it.”
“Can I get an, um, estimate?” It was suddenly very important to her that he not think she wanted the job for free.
“Yeah, sure. Just materials, okay?”
She couldn’t argue with that. She’d be an idiot to. “Materials and dinner?”
“It’s a deal.” He held out his hand and she accepted. “I’ve got to run. More odd jobs ahead of me.”
“Side jobs, you mean.”
“Thank you. That is exactly what I mean.” He left, a happy lilt to his step.
Hudson was a good guy. A person Taylor had known, or at least known of, for years. A person who would be a good friend to have when making her life in this town. She really didn’t want to screw that up by having a rebound romance with him.
By the time Belle dropped Grandpa off, Flour Sax finally had some customers.
Grandpa grumped his way into his chair and turned on his little TV. The quilters wandered over to him to give their hellos. They were old friends of Grandma Delma’s from back in the day.
“Did Cooper decide to go with you?” Taylor asked her sister.
“Yes.”
“You have some cash? And maybe some food?”
“Yes.”
“When will you be back?”
“That depends on how long the conversation with Nancy goes, doesn’t it?” Belle looked at her, unflinching.
Taylor squared her shoulders. She wasn’t going to let Belle get to her this time.
“How long is the drive?”
“Google says it’s two and a half hours.”
Taylor glanced at her watch. It was just after one. They’d be there at three-thirty, give them an hour to talk…. “I want you home by eight.” This seemed totally reasonable.
Belle smirked, but her eyes weren’t in it. She seemed…hurt. The things Taylor had said back at the house would do that. They would hurt. “We’ll be back when we get back.” She sauntered out like she had no care in the world, which everyone in the shop knew wasn’t true.
Chapter Seventeen
That evening Taylor convinced Grandpa to sit with her in the front room to watch a movie together. They had pizza and popcorn and chocolate chip cookies.
He picked an old western. Taylor didn’t care. She just needed to not think about where her sister was or when she’d be home.
Just after nine, or around the time the girl who was trying to save her ranch realized she had lost her heart to the wrong man, the kitchen door creaked open.
It had been a long day, and Taylor was pretty sure she needed to apologize to her sister, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, so she pulled the Log Cabin quilt over herself and snuggled into the couch.
“Hey-dilly-ho, neighbor.” Cooper wandered into the living room and sat next to her. He helped himself to a slice of pizza. “I understand there is some chill between you and Belle right now, and that things are, in fact, not chill at the moment.”
“Yes.”
“So, I want to let you know that Nancy Reese wasn’t home. We left a note with Belle’s number and the address to the shop. That was my idea. I didn’t think this stranger needed to know where you ladies live.”
“Very wise.” Taylor refused to ask if Belle had sent him in with the information.
“Belle is a good kid.” Cooper got comfortable, slinging one arm over the back of the sofa. “It’s going to suck when she leaves. I don’t think she’ll keep in touch.”
Taylor glanced at him, wondering what was behind the heart to heart. She also noticed for the first time that there were no signs of life in the kitchen. “Did she come here with you?”
“Nope. She’s at my house. I refused to take her to Levi’s dorm, firstly, because Levi is a weird kid and wouldn’t know what to do with a girl if you dropped her in his bed half naked, and second, because those programs for teens at colleges have fairly strict curfews.
“I bet your mom was glad you took Dayton to prom.”
“Indeed, she was pleased.”
“And what are your intentions at this point?”
He dropped his head back on the sofa, looking surprisingly young. “I’ve got to stick around here for another school year. I don’t get to escape. I guess Dayton and I will have whatever fun can be had. I don’t know. I plan to go somewhere sunny for college. It might be my only chance in life to see what the sun is like.”
Taylor laughed, knowing that despite a reputation as a land of clouds and rain, summers in Oregon rivaled anywhere in the world. “And?”
“Dayton only cares about fabric design. One of the best fabric design programs in the country is at the craft college, so, that’s that.”
“No white wedding at Bible Creek Church for you two?”
“Not if I can help it. I like Dayton, but it can all be kind of a lot, you know?”
“Yeah…” Taylor, in fact, did not know. Dayton remained, as ever, an impenetrable enigma. “So, I really screwed up this morning with Belle.”
“That you did.”
“Any advice?”
He was quiet for a moment. “If I knew how to make her love somebody, I’d use that magic for myself, don’t you think?”
Taylor reached over and patted his knee. “There’s cookies too,” she said.
Cooper helped himself to one.
Grandpa slept through the conversation.
* * *
Grandma Quinny found Taylor at the shop the next day promptly at eleven. Roxy and Taylor had filmed enough material for three more videos. Taylor was getting better, or maybe Roxy had given up on making her good. Either way they had fumbled through several of the projects Laura had scheduled for herself.
Grandma Quinny made her way slowly to Taylor, stopping to look at a little table display of pincushions, then at some patterns. She had almost made it when she stopped and looked up and around like a little bird dog.
Taylor knew what had stopped her. The sound of her mom’s voice. Taylor had the video running in the corner again, just a little louder this time. You couldn’t see it from where she stood, but you could hear it. Four women in matching t-shirts were crowded around the screen watching it.
Grandma didn’t follow the sound but joined Taylor at the work table where she was cutting yardage for another customer.
“The funny thing was,” Grandma said, as though they had been in the middle of a conversation, “when I first heard Laura’s voice, I wasn’t surprised. This is her shop and the sound of her voice belongs here.” She set her purse on the table. “I’m glad you’re playing it.”
“Thanks.” Taylor folded the three yards of creamy yellow paisley and pinned the ticket to it. “Did you want to do more shopping?”
The lady who’s shirt said, “Quilters never Quit,” and matched the other ladi
es looked back at her friends. “Yes, I guess so.”
“I can hold this at the register for you.” Taylor held it out to her, letting her make the decision.
She took the fabric, smiled at Grandma, and went to see what her friends were engrossed in.
“It was hard at first,” Taylor said, “but I’ve gotten used to it.”
“And I see you’ve started making your own videos.”
“It seemed like the right thing to do.”
“Have you given any more thought to what we spoke about? That little policy would make a nice down payment.” Grandma Quinny looked around the store, then her gaze fixed on Taylor again. Grandma Quinny didn’t look particularly pleased, but she did look tolerant. “Especially if you’re buying something here in Comfort. There’s a very nice new development on the South side of town you might want to look at.”
Taylor knew the development. It was nice.
Knowing her grandfather was a retired investment banker, she had done some figuring of her own. That little $30,000 insurance policy, if she guessed correctly, was worth five times that now. Combined with the proceeds of the sale of her condo she ought to be able to get one of those smaller houses in the new development for cash.
One of the other ladies who had come as a group peeled herself away from the video. She brought a bolt of white cotton with a subtle all-over floral pattern in off white. “Five yards please. It’s for the back of a blanket for my granddaughter. She’s having her first communion and I wanted to do something special.” The woman pulled out her phone and tapped the screen a few times, then held it out. “Isn’t she lovely?”
The picture was of a clean and healthy girl in a bright pink Easter dress. Taylor remembered something Mrs. Quimby had told Ramona in some book, that healthy kids were all beautiful. “Yes,” Taylor agreed. “She’s beautiful.”
The customer beamed and scrolled through more pictures while Taylor measured and cut her fabric. “Is there anything else I can cut for you?”
“No, this will be all.” She accepted the fabric and went on her way.
Roxy was at the register ringing up a customer who was not wearing a matching t-shirt. The proud grandmother waited in line behind her.
“I should go look at those houses. Are there many available still?”
Grandma Quinny brightened immediately. “Yes, yes. I think the model home is still free as well as one or two near enough the creak to hear it.”
“That would be really nice.” One couldn’t say she’d actually moved into her mom’s house, since all of her stuff was still in storage. Reinvesting what she made selling her own place while figuring out how to care for Grandpa Ernie didn’t seem foolish. Even if he lived in a care home, he’d need someone in town to visit him and make sure he was well looked after. And that shouldn’t have to be Belle.
“We can tour them together.” Grandma Quinny almost sounded unsure, like Taylor wouldn’t want to. “I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you, sweetheart.”
Taylor came around the table and gave her a hug. “Thanks.”
Grandma Quinny picked up her bag, a bright smile on her face. “I have a project for baby Hattie. I’m going to do a little shopping.”
“Let me know if I can help.”
Grandma moved on, letting the ladies in line have their turn getting their yards of fabric cut.
Grandma Quinny didn’t buy anything, but Taylor wasn’t surprised. Grandma Quinny really did prefer the fabric selection over at Bible Creek Quilt and Gift.
Flour Sax was busy most of the day, so Taylor didn’t notice Belle come in to hang out with Grandpa Ernie. When they closed up shop at six, Belle and Grandpa were sharing a bowl of popcorn and playing war with a couple of old decks of cards.
Taylor pulled a chair up to the folding table they had between them and opened a can of soda. “Who’s winning?”
Grandpa gave her a fierce look. “She’s cheating.” Despite the grump in his voice, his eyes sparkled, and Taylor knew he was joking.
“I’m merely very talented at this particular game of chance.” Belle took the next hand as she said it.
“What do you two want for dinner tonight? We can go anywhere, get anything, or cook whatever you want.”
“Pot roast.” Grandpa took the next trick.
“Does Rueben’s make a good pot roast?”
“Delma did,” Grandpa said. “Don’t you have her recipe?”
“Probably, but I think it takes an hour or so….”
“Where do you have to be in such a hurry that you can’t spend an hour cooking?”
Taylor glanced at her phone. It was already 6:30. Roxy had closed out the till, but Taylor had a bit more work to do before she could go home.
“You did say anything, Tay,” Belle said, taking another hand.
“Okey dokes. Let me finish up here, then I’ll meet you back at the house. I’ll have to run down to the market.”
“It closes at six.”
“Ah. So, I just made another offer I couldn’t live up to.”
“Yup.” Belle banged her large stack of playing cards on the metal folding table to straighten the stack.
“In fifteen minutes I can be ready to go down to Reuben’s and I’m sure and certain we can get pot roast there.”
“That’s a long walk,” Grandpa said.
“I’ll drive.” It was only a few blocks, but that was getting to be a long walk for him.
Taylor left them to their cards so she could do the glamorous work of closing up shop. From emptying the waste to tucking in all the little corners of the fabric that had been touched, and examined, considered, and abandoned through the day, to running the sweeper. She knew that properly taking care of the little things separated a great shop from a bad one, but nobody really likes doing them.
When they all headed out, she was surprised to see her mom’s Audi parked behind the store.
Belle opened the passenger side door for Grandpa and took the driver’s for herself. “It’s a couple of blocks from the house to the shop,” she said simply.
Belle backed onto Love Street and pulled up to Main, pausing to check traffic before driving the block or so down the street to Rueben’s. A small woman in a raincoat stood at the door of the shop, looking in through cupped hands.
“Hold on, Belle.” Taylor tapped her shoulder to get her attention.
Belle stopped and Taylor hopped out.
“Hey, I’m so sorry, we’re closed. Was there something you needed?” Taylor didn’t know what prompted her to offer help, except maybe that she wanted to do one thing right. She wanted to not have been making her grandpa walk too far twice a day. She wanted to not have blown up at her sister. She wanted to just help someone.
“I saw that. I just drove in from quite a way. I didn’t realize the shop closed so early.”
“I’m sorry. I think Dutch Hex keeps longer hours, it’s just a few doors down.” Taylor pointed down the street toward the rival shop.
“No, I was supposed to come here.” She held a crumpled note in her hand. “I’m looking for Taylor and Belle Quinn. Do you know them?”
Chapter Eighteen
Their guest for dinner that evening was Nancy Reese. Grandpa couldn’t remember her, but Taylor wasn’t surprised. Grandpa couldn’t be expected to remember everybody who’d ever lived in Comfort.
Nancy was an older woman, polished and put together in a linen suit and less than sensible heels. Her soft, flowy blonde and silver hair fell just to her shoulders in a chic wavy lob. It looked to Taylor as though she’d had work done, since her face was much smoother than her hands. But her hands were still elegant with long fingers and large stones in several rings.
“I don’t want to interrupt your family time, but when I found this note on my door, I had to come. What a tragedy for you girls, and you as well.” She reached a hand across the table to take Grandpa’s in hers. He smiled.
“Thank you. It was very generous to drive all the way here.” Tayl
or tried to picture this non-threatening woman as someone who filed Colleen with fear and anxiety, but it was hard to imagine.
Sadie, one of the many Ruebens who waited tables at the family owned café popped over, a swinging ponytail and polka dot button down shirt giving her a fifties vibe, even though the café was stuck firmly in the late seventies.
“What can I getcha?” She also gave the impression of bubble gum-chewing, but Taylor suspected that was just the rubber bands on her braces. She couldn’t have told you what she had ordered when Sadie went off again, but Grandpa was getting his pot roast.
“You might not know this, but I knew your mom when she was little.” Nancy peeled open a little plastic pot of flavored creamer and poured it into her decaf coffee.
“The other ladies said they knew your daughter.” Taylor didn’t mention the tangled negative associations they had with her.
“It was lovely to see them. We come to the river once a year. Andrea does such a nice job with her little bed and breakfast. The weather was lovely, but we were surprised not to have the place to ourselves. That time of year we usually do.” Nancy’s eyes were wide and sincere as though she hoped that every word she said would help in some way. Like she really wanted to do a good job.
Maybe they all felt like that.
What was a good job in this circumstance?
Surely, Nancy hadn’t heard her mom and Colleen fighting.
Then again, Andrea had said the fight was disruptive to the other guests, and Nancy was one of the two other guests.
“It was such a pity that their weekend was spent arguing.” Taylor sighed, trying to hide that this was an investigation.
Belle nodded. “When we learned she and her friend were at odds….” She sniffled. A well-timed, but likely sincere act.
“Oh, yes. I was sorry about that as well. They were loud and I was so tired. I admit, to my shame, that I called Andrea to complain. I feel now like…like I should have gone in and spoken with them instead. Maybe I could have prevented your mother going out that evening, agitated as she was.”
Taylor appreciated her not saying drunk. “I hate to ask this, but it nags at me. I never knew Mom to have a drinking problem,” here she choked up, also well-timed, but real grief has a way of making it unnecessary to “act sad” on command.
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