Laura reached for her mother’s hand; with the other, she took Deborah’s. “Through thick and thin,” Laura said heartily.
“Through thick and thin!”
Chapter 72
That evening, Arden had prepared a dinner of New England–style clam chowder, served with a green salad, and a sourdough boule she had bought at Chez Claudine.
“I seem to remember saying something earlier in the summer about getting fat living here,” Laura said as she helped her mother clear the table. “I think I was right but I don’t much care.”
Arden laughed. “You don’t look at all different than you did when you arrived. You’re just not used to the feeling of satisfaction one gets after a homemade meal.”
“Ain’t that the truth!”
When the kitchen had been put away, the women settled in the living room for what had become their almost nightly talk. Ophelia made herself comfortable on Laura’s lap. Prospero and Falstaff were curled up together at one end of the couch.
“It won’t be long before I have to light a fire,” Arden noted. “The kitties will be very happy.”
“It’s only August. And don’t you get an Indian summer in this part of the world?”
“Sometimes, yes. But things get chilly pretty early here on the whole and stay chilly—and damp—until well after spring has sprung in most other New England states. Deborah carries a pair of gloves with her until June.”
“It’s not quite so bad down in Connecticut. Besides, I like the cold weather, as long as it goes away by April.”
Arden smiled briefly. It had already occurred to her that Laura might not want to live in Maine year-round, and not only because of its notoriously late spring. The thought saddened Arden, but Laura had never promised to stay on after the search for the truth about what had happened to her father had come to an end. And only that afternoon Laura had expressed a very reasonable desire to return to teaching and maybe even to graduate school.
“Ever since we met,” Laura went on, gently stroking Ophelia’s silky fur, “I’ve wanted to ask what it was that finally made you run away from Port George. Was there one thing that tipped the scales?”
Arden had half expected this question from her daughter but hadn’t allowed herself to truly imagine the moment of telling. Did it need to be told? Would it be kinder to keep the ugly details from Laura?
“Arden?” Laura frowned in concern. “You okay?”
Arden nodded. Her mind was made up. Laura was not a child; she deserved the truth. It was what she had come to Eliot’s Corner to learn.
“There were two things that forced my decision to leave. I told you about that accidental meeting with Frannie Smith, the one in which she accused me of having kept Rob’s child a secret. The encounter shook me badly. I began to think I’d never be able to leave the house again for fear of running into Frannie or another one of Rob’s family, eager to accuse me of wrongdoing. But suddenly, I began to feel angry. Until then I’d felt so beaten down, so resigned to what had happened. I decided to seize that anger and make it work for me by finally confronting my father about the adoption.”
Arden paused. Laura’s expression was one of rapt attention.
“I found him alone in his study after dinner one night. He wanted to know why I was there. He was busy, he said, and didn’t have time to waste.” Arden shrugged. “Maybe he said time to spare, but in my memory he used the word waste. Anyway, I took a step closer to the desk and began to speak. My voice was trembling, but I demanded to know where my baby had been taken. He refused to tell me. He said it was for the best that I not know any details. I said, ‘For whose best?’ He seemed surprised that I had the nerve to talk back to him. Instead of answering my question he pointed out that I had agreed to the adoption. I argued that he had pressured me, that I was a victim of coercion.”
Arden paused for a moment. “He said nothing in response, just kept staring at me stony faced. So, I said that I would get a lawyer to find the child and prove that the adoption wasn’t legal. Then, he spoke. He told me not to be ridiculous. He pointed out that I had no money of my own and that he certainly wouldn’t pay my legal bills. And suddenly, I froze, intimidated into silence by his coldness. My father looked down at his desk then and told me to go to bed. I remember turning and walking sort of mindlessly toward the door. Then he said, and this is an exact quote, I’m sure of it, ‘Close the door behind you, now there’s a good girl.’ I felt about three years old at that moment, dismissed like a toddler.”
“I’m so sorry.” Laura’s voice was low; if she was angry, she kept the anger to herself.
“After that disaster with my father, I thought things couldn’t get any worse than they were. I was wrong. A few nights later, my parents gave one of their popular parties and pressed me to join the guests. I was to answer questions about my first year at Blake College—all a lie, of course—and make small talk like I had been trained to do. I dutifully put on a dress and smiled politely, but I was absolutely miserable. My life had been violently turned upside down by Rob’s disappearance and the theft of our child. And yet, my parents seemed to expect me to go on as if nothing had changed, to be the same obedient, passive little girl I’d been before I’d met Rob.”
Laura shook her head. “I’ll say it again. A Gothic novel set in the twentieth century.”
“I couldn’t stand the people my parents socialized with. They were a soulless bunch, only interested in making money and showing it off. The only decent people at that party were Ted Coldwell and his parents, though at the time I could barely look at Ted without wondering if he had had something to do with Rob’s disappearance, if he had been my father’s partner in crime. Poor Ted tried to talk to me at one point. He was his usual friendly self, but I couldn’t believe that his show of friendship was genuine. I remember turning my back on him. That was the last time I saw Ted Coldwell.”
“He mentioned that night to me. He remembers.”
“I wish he’d forget.” Arden sighed. “Anyway, not long after that, I managed to slip away from the melee of drunken partygoers. The women’s teased and lacquered hairdos were beginning to droop, their lipstick to slide across their faces. You could hear the sound of booze sloshing out of glasses. The men were all worse for wear, too, their ties askew or gone entirely, shouting insults at each other across the room, bellowing with laughter. My father was one of the worst of the bunch. He was downing Scotch like it was water. The whole scene repulsed me. I went out into the garden for some fresh air. I could still hear the chaos inside but at least I wasn’t breathing all that cigarette smoke. At the time, there was a gazebo in the center of the back lawn. I thought I’d take refuge there for a bit. It was very dark away from the house; someone had forgotten to turn on the security lights. It suited me just fine.”
Arden paused to gather her courage. Again, Laura nodded silently.
“But when I reached the gazebo, there was my mother, half-conscious, having sex or very nearly with the husband of one of her friends. Maybe I should have cried out for help, forced him to stop, but I didn’t. I was overwhelmed with feelings of disgust and anger, and before either of them could become aware of me, I ran off to my room. No one came looking for me. Eventually, the party wound down, and by three in the morning the house was finally quiet. I remember lying on my bed, exhausted but wide-awake, knowing that I would die if I went on living in that house. Two nights later, I ran off for good. I had no plan. I just knew I needed to get far away from my parents. I took what cash and jewelry I could, and, well, I simply vanished.”
Tears were shining in Laura’s eyes. “You were so brave. Truly courageous.”
“Was I?” Arden shook her head. “I didn’t feel brave. I felt forced to run away from home as the only way to save my sanity. I have no idea if my parents bothered to search for me, then or later. It wouldn’t have been difficult to track me down. So, I had to conclude they had decided to wash their hands of their troublesome daughter. No doubt my mother retreate
d again into pretending, telling herself I was back at college or living a glamorous life in the south of France.”
Laura silently shook her head. “It’s hard to believe.... I’m so sorry.”
“I was frugal with what little money I had. To that point in my life I’d never had a paying job, so learning how to be an employee was a shock, especially an employee hired to do menial tasks, something I had been taught was beneath an Aldridge. But I’m a quick learner and I had never shared my parents’ attitudes toward what was honest work, so I adjusted. Later on, as you know, I changed my name. For a while I lived in Vermont, and later, New Hampshire. Mostly, I was content. I was so relieved to be away from Port George and my parents’ killing influence.”
“You must have been terrified though. Completely on your own at such a young age.”
“There were some scary times,” Arden admitted after a long moment. “More than a few. But I wasn’t the first young woman who was compelled to make a living without the support of friends or family, and I know I won’t have been the last.”
“Too true,” Laura said quietly.
“And then”—Arden deliberately fast-forwarded over the years of wandering and dislocation—“when I was about forty, I came back to Maine and landed in Eliot’s Corner. Honestly, I took one look at this charming little town and decided this is where I would stay, finally try to put down some roots, if people would let me. And, yes, I was aware that Eliot’s Corner was only two hours away from Port George, but in a strange way, after all those years on the move, that nearness held an appeal. Later, I learned that it’s not at all uncommon for a person to need to be close to a place where something monumental had occurred to her, even if that something was traumatic.”
Laura nodded. “A version of a criminal needing to return to the scene of his crime?”
“Maybe. Anyway, I found the job at Arden Forest, and Margery became my mentor and my guardian angel. When she passed away, leaving the shop to me, I felt as if I’d been given a great gift, something I could nurture and protect and take pride in.” Arden smiled, though she felt tears burning in her eyes. “Like I might have done with my daughter had I been allowed the chance.”
“You truly are the heroine of your life.” Laura wiped tears from her cheeks. “Succeeding against all odds, fighting for justice for that young girl you once were, fighting for her right to a self-determining existence.”
“I just did what I had to do to survive. As I said, mine is a pretty common story. Maybe the details of my story are more colorful than average—a disappearing fiancé and parents with outrageously outdated ideas about a daughter’s independence—but that doesn’t make me any stronger than any other woman who’s fought the good fight.”
Suddenly, Falstaff lumbered to his feet and let out a great wail, sending Prospero leaping from the couch and causing Ophelia to appear supremely annoyed at the interruption of her nap.
“What’s wrong with him?” Laura cried. “Is he hurt?”
Arden laughed, glad for the dramatic distraction. “He just wants our attention. We’ve been ignoring him for too long.”
“Well, he’s got it now!”
Chapter 73
“A letter for me?”
“It was left at my office after hours,” Ted told Laura, “slipped through the mail slot. It’s addressed to ‘the woman asking around about the summer of 1984.’ I don’t know how the sender knew I’d be able to reach you; word must have gotten around that you’d been to my office.”
“How odd. Would you open the letter and text me a photo of it?”
While Ted went about doing just that, Laura put her phone on speaker and told her mother what was transpiring. Ted’s text arrived a moment later.
“The handwriting is pretty bad,” Laura noted, “but here goes. Ted? Can you stay on and read this with us?”
“Sure.” First, Ted greeted Arden—it was the first time the two childhood friends had spoken since 1985—and then Laura began to read aloud:
“‘To the woman with that podcast. I know something that might interest you. I worked as chauffeur and mechanic for Herbert Aldridge from 1982 to 1984. My name is Steve Penn.’”
“I remember him,” Arden interrupted. “He always had a smile for me.”
“But you can’t say if he was trustworthy or not?” Ted asked.
“No. But he’s not lying about employed by my father.”
“He goes on: ‘I still live in Port George, on the outskirts. Last year I retired from my job at a car repair place. Anyway, I might be able to help you if you’re still interested in that boy who went missing and was never found. Call me any time at the number below. Yours truly, S. Penn.’”
“What do you think?” Arden asked. “Ted, should we give him a call?”
“I don’t see why not. Let me know what you find out. I’ve got a client coming in so I’ve got to go.”
When Ted had rung off, Arden suggested that Laura place the call to Mr. Penn right away. “I’ll listen silently, of course.”
Mr. Penn answered on the fourth ring, sounding a little out of breath.
Laura introduced herself. “Thank you for contacting me. You said you might be able to shed some light on the disappearance of Rob Smith back in August 1984.”
Mr. Penn cleared his throat. “I told you that I worked for Herbert Aldridge as chauffeur and mechanic. They had an ’81 Plymouth Reliant at the time and a 1962 Cadillac Coupe de Ville. Wouldn’t be surprised if they still had that Cadillac. Mr. Aldridge treated it like it was his own child. Anyway, not long after their daughter went off to some college, about the start of September ’84, I was fired, just like that. Mr. Aldridge didn’t give me a reason, just handed me a letter of recommendation along with the money owed me, and I was sent packing.”
“Are you saying you think your firing relates to the disappearance of Rob Smith?” Laura asked, shooting a glance at Arden.
“Well, I’m not sure if it does. But here’s what happened. One night a few days before Rob was declared missing, I was in the garage and I heard some noises coming from the construction site on the property. A clanking, like, and an engine of some sort. I wasn’t supposed to still be at the house, but I’d stayed late that Sunday to finish a chore. I wondered if someone was trying to sabotage the construction—Herbert Aldridge wasn’t the most generous of employers—and I thought about checking it out, but in the end, I did nothing. I was pretty tired, and honestly, I didn’t really care if the Aldridges were robbed or what have you. He wasn’t a nice man at all. She could be all right, but mostly, she was out of it. She was taking some sort of pills. It wasn’t a secret, either.”
“But when Rob was officially declared missing, why didn’t you come forward?” Laura asked, struggling to keep a note of accusation out of her voice. “You could have done it anonymously, told the police what you heard that night.”
“I suppose I could have, but at the time I didn’t connect what I heard that night with Rob’s going missing. But with you asking around town about those days, I started thinking and putting one and one together and . . . And besides, life does strange things to you, doesn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” Laura asked. Her mother’s face was ashen.
“Well, see, about two weeks ago my grandson, he’s twelve, he got into an accident out on a boat with his friend’s family. Came close to drowning. He was in the hospital for three days, and I can tell you those three days were the worst of my life. I guess coming so close to losing Hank got me to thinking about what those Smiths must have gone through, losing their son like that. So, I thought I would tell you what I know.” Mr. Penn paused. When he went on, his tone was almost apologetic. “Which isn’t really anything, is it?”
“No, no, you’ve been very helpful. I appreciate your contacting me.”
“You know,” Mr. Penn went on, reanimated, “now you’ve got me wondering. Maybe the reason I was let go so sudden was because Mr. Aldridge thought I might’ve been hanging around late
that night, maybe seen or heard something. I mean, if he was the one making the noise, he or someone working for him, and if the noise did have something to do with young Rob Smith. But if that was the case, wouldn’t it have been safer to keep me close and treat me right, in case I got it into my head to blackmail him? Assuming I’d seen or heard something damning, and I hadn’t. At least, I didn’t think I had.”
Laura shared a look of frustration with Arden. “I can’t say what Mr. Aldridge thought or didn’t think,” Laura said carefully. “I doubt we’ll ever really know.”
“Probably right. But you won’t tell anyone I got in touch with you, will you?” Mr. Penn sounded genuinely worried.
“I promise.” Laura wondered if Steve Penn could still fear Herbert Aldridge. “Thanks, again.”
“Not much, is it?” Arden said with a frown when Laura had ended the call.
“Yet more soft evidence, but it’s helpful—possibly—in painting a picture of corruption under the sweet surface of small-town life. I’ll pass the story on to Ted, and he can put it with the other circumstantial and downright flimsy evidence we’ve uncovered.” Laura rubbed her eyes. “I feel more frustrated than ever. I feel as if we’re beating our heads against the proverbial wall.”
Arden sighed. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but how bad would it be if we never learned the truth about what happened to Rob the day he went missing from Port George? I know we both want to know, but what if we never can?”
“It would be bad,” Laura said after a long moment. “But not the end of the world. At least I finally know something of my birth father. That he was one of the good guys, well loved and respected. That means a lot.”
“And when we tell Frannie and her family who you are, you’ll have gained kin.”
“Assuming they believe me.” Laura smiled ruefully.
Barefoot in the Sand Page 26
