Nolan couldn’t be sure whether Nia was still in her bad cop mode—if she was, she was going too far—but nothing was manufactured about Meri’s anger. Misplaced, perhaps. Nia was the most recent offender and was holding Meri’s paycheck hostage, but the greatest irritation was that she was the closest target for Meri’s pent-up distress and anxiety.
“Hello,” Nolan said.
Nia and Meri snapped apart.
“Hello, Nolan,” Nia said. “What brings you by?”
“Oh, please,” Meri said. “You can all stop treating me like an idiot.”
“Meri, that’s uncalled for,” Nia said.
“I don’t think you get to tell me what’s uncalled for.”
Whoa. Tinderbox may have been a mild description.
“I was in the mood for some ice cream and thought Meri might like to go with me.”
“Sure!” Nia took the rag and wax back from Meri. “It’s a beautiful day, and on a Wednesday, Kris’s shop won’t be crowded. Take your time.”
“Excuse me,” Meri said. “Don’t I get a vote? Have the two of you decided the entire rest of my life or only the remainder of my captivity?”
Nolan turned his palms up. “It was only a suggestion.”
Nia held the rag and wax toward Meri. “Of course you don’t have to go.”
Meri looked from Nolan to Nia and back again. “Ice cream sounds fine. Let me get my sweater.”
They were hardly off the front porch of the Inn before Meri scowled.
“I know they sent you to make nice, and I like you fine. But under the circumstances, I know whose side you’re on.”
“Side?”
“You’re here to smooth over what Nia did yesterday.”
“I’m here to see what I can do to help.”
“Help who? That’s the key question.”
“Help you, Meri,” Nolan said.
They walked half a block without speaking.
“I’m not really in the mood for ice cream,” Meri said. “I just had to get out of there. She’s been riding me all day—like I was the one who stepped over the line yesterday.”
Nolan waited a few yards before speaking. “Well, considering that we’re practically at the ice cream shop, what do you say we go in anyway? If you look around and still don’t feel in the mood, we’ll wander the Emporium or take a walk down to the park or whatever you want to do to have some space from Nia.”
“I don’t need you for that.”
“Except that’s what she thinks you’re doing, so why make trust issues worse by ditching me now?”
“I’d call it getting even.”
“You can get even with ice cream in your stomach.” Nolan held open the door to Ore the Mountain.
Meri stepped inside—barely. Nolan stood beside her, prepared to go at her pace. She tilted her head and took in the decor. Gradually fury slipped off her shoulders. How could anyone stay angry in the presence of ice cream?
“I like it,” she said. “The mining picks, the old photos, the maps. It makes me feel like I could go digging for an undiscovered flavor.”
“Now you’re talking,” Nolan said. “I think that’s just what Kris is after when she’s constantly concocting new combinations. If you’ve got a creative inspiration, I’m sure she’d love to hear it.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Shall we?” Nolan gestured toward the counter. Meri shuffled forward.
Kris waved. “I’ll have that cherry chocolate chip chunk right up for you. And what does your friend want?”
“This is Meri Davies,” Nolan said. “She works at the Inn for Nia.” Hopefully that statement will still be true tomorrow and the day after.
“Welcome to Canyon Mines,” Kris said. “What would you like?”
“How did you know what Nolan wanted?” Meri asked.
“We go back a long way,” Kris said.
“Do you use real strawberries?”
“We use real everything.”
“Then I’d like a strawberry cream shake, please.”
They took their ice cream to a table. The only other customers in the place were a middle-aged couple Nolan recognized as fairly recent residents to Canyon Mines.
He sucked ice cream off the end of a spoon and let Meri slurp her shake.
“I’ll bet it’s been a long time since you’ve had ice cream this good.”
She nodded, not taking her mouth off the straw.
“So the story I got,” Nolan said, “is that you ran into some trouble with medical school.”
“They told you.”
“You were right earlier. We are all on the same side,” Nolan said, “but that side is Team Meri.”
She looked away.
“No one thinks any less of you for having a rough patch.”
“Except if you’re related to me.”
“Is that why you don’t want Jillian to work on your family tree?”
Meri scratched her forehead above her glasses, right at the scalp line. “It’s more complicated than you could know.”
Her voice wavered as her words took on a dagger shape that cut into him, making her pain his.
“Tell me,” he said softly.
Meri sucked up some more of her shake.
Nolan waited.
“I was salutatorian in my exclusive private high school class. Why wasn’t I first? my father wanted to know. I missed it by three-tenths of a percent. Then I double-majored at Sewanee in biology and chemistry.”
“No slouch there.”
“Summa cum laude. But I came in second in my class again. Why wasn’t I first?”
“I’m sorry your parents didn’t recognize your stellar accomplishments.”
Liquid glimmering lines slithered across the bottoms of her eyes. “I was supposed to redeem myself in med school. I didn’t get into Harvard, like my brother, but it was going to be okay because my family has a tradition in southern medical schools, and he had turned his nose up at that.”
“And then you got the letter.”
“My parents know now.”
“Did you tell them?”
“Of course not. I don’t have to. The dean is an old friend.”
Double major at Sewanee in two sciences. Salutatorian. Summa cum laude. How would someone with those credentials fail a few weeks into her second year of med school?
Unless she didn’t want to be there in the first place.
“You didn’t want to go to medical school, did you, Meri?”
She slurped strawberry cream shake and shrugged. “That’s irrelevant.”
“It’s not irrelevant to me.”
Now her eyes overfilled, their deep brown color clouded. “Please don’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because. That’s not my life.”
“But it’s why you’re in Canyon Mines, and it’s why you don’t feel you can stay here.”
Eventually she nodded.
“We want to help,” Nolan said. “What Nia did was wrong, and she knows it. We don’t want to see you run away from your own life. Nia cares. She did from the first day. We all do.”
“You haven’t even known me for a week. How can you possibly care that much?”
“Because we do. Can you trust us?”
Meri pushed away her unfinished shake. “Strangers and a family tree can’t fix this.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jillian had ducked Mrs. Answald’s calls twice already that day, and if she didn’t pick up this time, the voice mail would be noticeably terser than the last one.
She picked up. Yes, she was almost finished. Just a few more finishing touches.
Yes, she could FedEx tomorrow, the next day at the very latest, in time for delivery on Saturday morning. A printout on regular-size sheets for her review but also a thumb drive with a large file Mrs. Answald could take straight to any print-and-copy center for a full-color, high-quality, large-size printout worthy of display at the reunion event.
<
br /> Absolutely it would be finished on time.
Jillian clicked off the call. The young woman in St. Louis would remain lost for another day and she would have to think of something to tell Raúl, but she could check Mrs. Answald off her list before she laid her head on her pillow tonight—save the trip to FedEx in the morning.
The back door opened, and her dad’s keys clinked into the copper bowl on the kitchen counter where he’d been keeping them as long as she could remember. He never lost his keys, which was more than she could say.
Jillian leaned forward for one final cross-referencing and proofreading of every entry in the six-generation family tree, comparing the data in her research with what showed on her printout and what she saw on the screen.
“Change of plans,” Nolan said from the doorway.
Jillian stuck a finger on a sheet of paper to keep her place and looked up at him. “What happened?”
“I almost made Meri cry.”
“Actually, I think that might have been good for her.”
“Me too. So I invited her to dinner.”
Jillian dropped her chin and stared at him out of the tops of her eyes. “To try again to make her cry?”
“That is not my precise goal, but it might be a collateral event. She trusts no one. She will find no healing for what wounds her if she cannot trust at least one person. Right now, it can’t hurt for her to work enough to earn her wage, but otherwise what she really needs is to truly believe she has people on her team.”
Jillian didn’t disagree. But two more substantial queries for her services had come in today, and she hadn’t even yet fairly reviewed the ones already on her desk. She had planned to spend the evening looking at neglected proposals so she could start putting together quotes to ensure her work flow for the next few months. If she wanted out-of-control interruptions, she’d get a job in an office.
“I’ll still keep it simple,” Nolan said. “I need to work a couple more hours myself this afternoon. Then I’ll call in an order for Chinese, drive over to pick it up, and swing by to collect Meri. We’ll just eat in the kitchen. I promise it won’t be a late evening.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
“I only need one thing from you before supper.”
Jillian restrained the little girl pouty face of displeasure she wanted to give her daddy in that moment.
“This isn’t just about keeping Meri and Nia apart,” Nolan said. “I already called Nia and suggested she back down from her mean boss posturing. She made her point by stating the rules. Wouldn’t it also be useful if we got some information about Meri’s family that you could use?”
“I guess.” When she could work on Meri’s tree was the big question. The hours from two to six in the morning yawned open.
Jillian listened to her father’s explanation of Meri’s academic merits and the theory that flunking out of medical school was no accident, despite her anxiety about her family’s response.
“Did you ever find out her siblings’ names?” he asked.
“No, but I have her parents’ names, so that wouldn’t be hard. I just genuinely haven’t had time.”
“I know. Until yesterday, none of us knew there was a timeline.”
“But now there is.”
Nolan nodded. “Think about what would be helpful. Something she might not be so guarded about. Something that would untangle why there’s so much pressure on her to become a doctor.”
“It doesn’t seem like she’s much in the mood to cooperate, Dad.”
“Give me some pointers, and I’ll try to steer the conversation.”
Jill pushed a fist into the opposite palm.
“You do that when you’re thinking hard,” Nolan said.
“Are you sure we can’t do this tomorrow?”
“I have to be in Denver tomorrow—unless you want to try on your own.”
Jillian shook her head. “She won’t talk to me without you. I think we’ve established that. How about Friday?”
“She could be gone as soon as she gets that paycheck.”
“She’s not supposed to leave until Tuesday,” Jillian said. “One week’s notice. That’s what Nia said they agreed to.”
Nolan shrugged one shoulder. “Meri’s not interested in the agreement. She’s interested in the paycheck.”
“I’m just so swamped.”
“Just two or three items,” Nolan said.
“Are you going to write them on your hand so you won’t forget them?”
“Oh ye of little faith.”
“Okay. But you might consider a sticky note.”
“Thank you.” Nolan buzz-kissed the top of her head. “No computer. No papers. Just a casual takeout dinner where she talks about things she doesn’t realize she knows.”
Kung pao chicken. Beef and snow peas. Sweet-and-sour pork. Cashew chicken. Vegetable spring rolls. Wonton soup. White rice. Fried rice.
Nolan had it all covered. As he unpacked the options with considerable cheer, Jillian offered Meri a smile and set out the largest-size plates the household offered and some bowls that resembled the size Chinese restaurants used for soup. Nolan would want some of everything. Jillian hoped at least one dish would appeal to Meri. Nolan added pitchers of cucumber water and raspberry lemonade to the nook of a table and declared the feast prepared. The three of them scooted into their seats.
Nolan offered his hands to both young women. When Jillian laid hers in one of his open palms, Meri followed her lead.
“May you always find nourishment for your body at the table,” he said. “May sustenance for your spirit rise and fill you with each dawn. And may life always feed you with the light of joy along the way.”
“Is that a traditional Irish blessing?” Meri asked when Nolan released her hand.
“My ma used to say it to me,” Nolan said. “I have a feeling her ma made it up.”
“And he has said it to me all my life,” Jillian said, “so that makes it traditional. Four generations. What sustenance can we offer you tonight?”
“I haven’t had sweet-and-sour pork in a long time.”
“Then sweet-and-sour pork it is.” Nolan passed the dish. “I recommend the beef and snow peas. And the cashew chicken—though it does have a little zing.”
Meri gave a half smile. “Okay. A little of everything.”
Nolan pushed every dish in Meri’s direction before serving himself.
“So Jillian’s great-grandmother made up that blessing?”
“That’s right,” Jillian said. “At least that’s the family legend.”
“Did you know her?”
“No, but I wish I had. I’ve never come across that particular Irish blessing anywhere else in all my research. I’d love to have the chance to know what else was in her mind.”
“How much do you know about her?” Meri passed the fried rice back to Nolan.
“My dad has some memories and old family photos, but I’ve discovered some other things through my genealogical research.”
“Like what?”
“She knew the Unsinkable Molly Brown, for one thing.”
“I’ve heard of her.”
“She lived a colorful life, including surviving the Titanic. Her home in Denver is a museum now, and I like going there and thinking about how my great-grandmother was once in that place. She was a maid there for a few months, but I’ve uncovered notes that suggest Mrs. Brown rather liked her, perhaps because they both came from Irish immigrant families.”
“How did you find out something from so long ago?”
“It takes digging, but it can be done. My great-grandmother’s family came from Ireland like so many others during the late nineteenth century and ended up in Colorado to work the mines. But by the time she was sixteen, she was orphaned. So she went into domestic service. She moved from Leadville to Denver and married a man who worked in a small newspaper office. Their daughter married a Duffy.”
“And the rest is history, as they say.” Meri fork
ed a chunk of breaded pork. “My great-aunt once told me a story about how my father’s grandparents got married in Atlanta. It almost didn’t happen. They had a certain window of time when both their families could come, or they were going to have to wait for months. I don’t know why. But there was a terrible rainstorm that washed out a bridge. My great-grandfather wanted to get married even if no one could be there but the preacher, but my great-grandmother was having none of that. At least that’s how the story goes.”
“But it worked out?” Nolan’s plate was loaded by now and his fork ready.
“At the last minute. Apparently there was a lot of mud involved, but they got married.”
Jillian laughed. “I love these stories.”
“That was the original Canfield Davies,” Meri said.
“Original?” Jillian said. “How many have there been?”
“At least one in every generation since, as far as I know,” Meri said. “I haven’t kept track of all the cousin lines. My dad is one.”
“I thought you said his name was Michael.”
“He goes by C. Michael. Canfield Michael. But he’s always been Michael in the family.”
“And in your generation?”
“My brother, Canny.”
“Canny?”
“He hates it. He spends his life explaining it’s not Manny or Danny. But he can hardly shorten it to Can. Too many mean childhood jokes there. In the family he’s still Canny. Professionally, as an adult, he tries to be Canfield, but then everyone thinks that’s his last name.”
“What about his middle name?” Nolan said. “Couldn’t he do what your father has done?”
Meri shook her head. “Canfield Mathers. My mother’s family name.”
“Wow. He’s in a jam, for sure,” Nolan said.
“A Canfield in every generation for the boys, and an Eliza in every generation for the girls.” Meri pointed at herself. “Meriwether Eliza.”
“And do those names go back just as far?” Jillian said. “Pardon me, my genealogist badge is showing.”
“It’s all right. I have no clue.”
“Meriwether,” Jillian said. “That must have significance.”
Meri shrugged. “When I was little and asked why I had such a hard name to spell, they said I should be grateful to have a name that meant something happy to my father.”
The Inn at Hidden Run Page 11
