“This time it was the past you saw,” Miguel said, nodding, “so it was a memory in fact.”
“Right, but sometimes they show me something that hasn’t happened yet, but it still is kind of like seeing a memory. Or it’s like being there, actually. I mean, I know who I am so it’s like watching a movie, except I’m in it.” She shook her head. “I’m not making any sense.”
Miguel shrugged. “It sounds like a very unique experience.” He gestured for her to follow him. “Come on, let’s keep going and you can tell me what you saw.”
“I’m sure it’s the same as what you remember,” Veronica said as they left the office behind. “He gave you a tumbler of whiskey and then told you the bad news. Your mother, Ariana, and Bud Perdue were all there. He gave you the deed and told you he gave your mother power of attorney, but that you have secondary power of attorney. That was it.”
Miguel nodded.
“Oh, and he took back the deed,” Veronica added. “He said he was going to put it in his safe.”
“As far as I know, that’s what he did. But I thought he would register it first. I just assumed,” Miguel said. “Turns out he didn’t do that. I think maybe he wasn’t really ready to give up the house, even though it was only in name.”
They were headed for the stairs when footsteps from above made them both pause. A moment later a dark-haired woman in gray slacks and a maroon sweater appeared at the top of the staircase.
“Mama,” Miguel said in a tight voice.
Dolores Santiago didn’t look as old as her husband. Veronica would have guessed she was in her mid-fifties. She wondered if Dolores just looked young, or if she was significantly younger than Hector. After a pause Dolores made her way down the stairs, her eyes cast down. She didn’t respond to Miguel.
“Mama, this is Veronica Barry.”
Dolores stopped at the foot of the stairs and frowned at Veronica. “Where have I heard that name?” she asked, her hand coming to rest at her throat.
“She’s the one who found Ariana,” Miguel said.
Dolores gasped. “You,” she said, and she took a step toward Veronica.
“I am so very sorry for your loss,” Veronica said.
“You spoke with her,” Dolores said, her voice thick with grief. She held a hand out to Veronica.
“Yes,” Veronica agreed, hesitating to take her hand. She recalled, now, that Miguel had mentioned that his mother hired several mediums to try and find his sister. So Dolores was a believer. That made the way she so freely offered her hand significant, Veronica thought. She must not have anything to hide. Veronica reached out and took Dolores’s hand.
~~~
She was lying in a hospital bed, her legs spread apart, a sheet lying over her abdomen. She was at once exhausted, shaky, and exhilarated. A much younger Hector stood by her side, next to two nurses in pink scrubs. At the end of the bed a female doctor in blue held a tiny, squalling baby. It was a girl. Veronica reached out her arms for the infant, and the doctor laid the baby on her chest.
~~~
As Veronica focused again on the present, a wave of grief nearly knocked her off her feet. She released Dolores’s hand and stepped back, clutching her stomach and chest. She closed her eyes. She felt like her heart was tearing itself apart. Breathe, she told herself.
“Veronica?” Miguel said.
The pain abated. She began to feel more normal again. She opened her eyes and looked from Miguel, who stood nearby, to Dolores, who hadn’t moved from the spot at the base of the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” Veronica said.
“What happened?” Miguel asked.
“Nothing,” Veronica said. She forced a weak smile at both of them. “I just—” She gave Dolores a sympathetic look, tilting her head to the side. “I’m just so sorry about Ariana.”
Dolores blinked and looked away. Then she turned back to Veronica and stepped toward her.
“You spoke with her,” she said again. “Please, tell me what she said.”
Veronica swallowed, trying to gather her thoughts. The grief had been so overwhelming. She felt exhausted even after feeling it just for a moment. How did Dolores keep going, carrying it around all the time? Veronica took a deep breath and closed her eyes again, willing herself to remember exactly what Ariana had said.
“She told me that the police hadn’t been able to identify her,” Veronica said, opening her eyes. “She told me her name was Ariana Santiago, and to find Miguel and tell him. She said—” Veronica hesitated. She didn’t want to add anything to this woman’s grief.
“Please tell me,” Dolores said. “It’s alright. I just need to know.”
“She said she was sorry, that she was very sad when she died.”
Dolores lowered her gaze and nodded. “My poor Ariana.”
“She told me to tell Miguel that she remembered the red cat he gave her, and that she remembered the yellow balloons with pink ribbons. They flew away, at her sixth birthday party.”
Dolores looked up then and smiled. “I made sure she always got yellow balloons. She loved the color yellow. She said it was happy.”
Veronica bit her lip and nodded. “That’s all she said.”
Dolores clasped her hands in front of her and pressed her lips together, her eyes shining. “Thank you,” she said. “Without you, we never would have found Ariana. Now she’s buried and I can visit her. It means so much.”
“I’m glad I could help. I only wish I could have given you better news about her.”
“Did you see the article in the paper?” Dolores asked.
“What article?”
“They wrote an article when we had the funeral,” Miguel said. “About how Ariana was missing for nearly two years but we found her before they put her in a mass grave. They talked about Papa in it. And you, although I didn’t give them your name.”
“Me?” Veronica said.
Miguel shrugged. “They wanted to know how we managed to find her. I had to tell them a psychic contacted us.”
“Wow,” Veronica breathed.
“We got lots of calls after that, asking for your name and how to contact you,” Miguel went on. “If you ever decide to make a living on this, I think you’ll pull it off.”
“I am so grateful to have had a chance to meet you,” Dolores said. She glanced at Miguel. “But honestly, I’m surprised Miguel brought you here.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” Miguel said without heat. He sounded tired.
Dolores frowned. “I don’t understand, then. Why are you here?”
Veronica hesitated. How could she answer that without sparking a fight between mother and son? She felt a great deal of sympathy for Dolores, and not just because she’d felt Dolores’s grief. It had to be incredibly hard to go through what Dolores was going through with Hector. But Dolores would have to think Veronica was taking Miguel’s side by working for him. What a mess. Why had she gotten herself into the middle of it?
“Um, I’m doing a job for Miguel,” she answered at last.
“A job?” Dolores said. “What kind of job?” Her face changed, becoming closed and cold.
Veronica sighed, preparing to explain, but Miguel answered first. “She’s helping me find the deed, Mama. The one that proves the house belongs to me.”
Chapter 3
“And after that, things got ugly,” Veronica said. She was sitting at the dining room table snapping the ends off green beans while Daniel chopped vegetables at the kitchen counter. The kitchen and dining room weren’t separate, so they could carry on a conversation that way.
Daniel raised his eyebrows and paused in his chopping. “I imagine so.”
“She said something like, ‘Miguel, you have to accept reality.’ And then he was like, ‘The reality is you’re trying to sell a house that doesn’t belong to you.’ And she said, ‘Grow up,’ and he was all, ‘You’re just going to ditch my father in a nursing home so you can go off and do whatever in Vegas or something and you’re telling me to gr
ow up?’”
“Oooh.” Daniel made a face.
“I’m telling you, it would not have surprised me if Dolores had slapped him right then. But she didn’t. She said, ‘I know you love your father. I do too. But the reality is, we cannot keep this house. He needs to be in a nursing home.’ And then Miguel was all, ‘Forget it, there’s no use going over all this again,’ and he grabbed my elbow and practically dragged me up the stairs.”
Daniel frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
Veronica shrugged and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. He was just upset.”
“I guess. If he ever does anything like that again, though, I want to hear about it.”
“Okay.”
“So did you get anything else?” he asked as he resumed chopping.
“No, not after all that. I mean, I was already pretty shaken up by the grief I got off of her,” Veronica said. “I’m not sure I’d have been about to concentrate after that, and then with the argument and all… that was just the last straw.”
She finished up the beans and scooped them into a colander. She rinsed them in the sink and set the colander next to Daniel’s growing pile of vegetables. There were sliced onions, carrots, spinach leaves, and red peppers. A second colander with glass noodles waited by the stove. Daniel was going to make beef stir fry for dinner. He called it chapchae and said his recipe was based on the Korean real deal, by way of American ingredients. Veronica didn’t know how it compared to the “real deal” but the last four times he’d made it, with slightly different vegetables each time, she’d wanted thirds.
“So what are you going to do next?” Daniel asked.
Veronica swiped a piece of carrot and ate it despite Daniel’s disapproving scowl. “Miguel wants to take his dad to visit Ariana’s grave tomorrow,” she said in answer to his question. “Hector keeps forgetting Ariana’s gone and Miguel hopes maybe this will help him. Anyway, he thought maybe I could come along. Maybe spending time with Hector will help me see a memory that can help us.”
Daniel nodded. He finished chopping the last of the red pepper and turned to the stove, starting the heat under a large pan. He glanced at Veronica over his shoulder.
“You know, I think maybe Dolores has a point.”
Veronica stole another bit of carrot. “What do you mean?”
Daniel shrugged one shoulder and poured some oil in the pan. “You know, about how Miguel needs to be realistic. I mean, from what you’re telling me, Hector’s not doing well.”
“He’s pretty far gone.”
“You said in your vision Ariana was twelve or thirteen?”
“Yeah.”
Daniel turned back to his cutting board and smashed a clove of garlic. “Well, she was nineteen when she died, and that was almost two years ago. That means Hector was diagnosed about nine years ago. The Alzheimer’s had had some time to do damage.”
Veronica pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows.
Daniel saw her expression. “Look, I get it, okay? Hector gave Miguel that house, and his mother doesn’t have the right to sell it out from under him. But if the idea is for Hector to somehow live out the rest of his days there…”
“As opposed to what?”
Daniel furrowed his brow. “Well, I mean, it’s not a bad idea, giving the house to Miguel, because then Medi-Cal can’t take it—”
“I doubt Hector would even qualify for Medi-Cal.”
“Look, my point is just that Miguel’s plan doesn’t sound very realistic. Kind of like what his mother’s been saying. I had an auntie with Alzheimer’s. It’s a terrible disease. It takes round the clock care at the end. I mean, it can, anyway, maybe every case is different. But it sounds like Hector’s going to need it.”
Veronica sighed, leaning back against the counter. “Miguel did say he got pneumonia last spring.”
“See, this is what I’m saying,” Daniel agreed. “The way you described him… he needs professional care.”
“But Miguel isn’t claiming Hector can go without professional care. He’s not going to try to take care of him all by himself. He’s going to take out a loan on the house so he can afford a nurse.”
“But loans have to be repaid,” Daniel said, scrapping the garlic into the pan. “Can Daniel afford to do that? You said he’s an artist, right? I mean, is he selling like Thomas Kinkade or something?”
Veronica shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean, no, not like Thomas Kinkade, but he does have his own studio and gallery. That’s pretty good for an artist.”
“You don’t know how he got that, though. It sounds to me like Dad was pretty well-off and maybe he paid for Miguel’s studio and gallery.”
Daniel scooped up the onions and added them to the pan as Veronica watched, twirling a strand of hair around her fingers.
“And maybe he is selling paintings,” Daniel said. “I hope so, because he’d better be able to pay you.”
Veronica rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, he’s going to pay me.”
“The thing is, though, he’s going to have to sell a lot of paintings to make this idea work about keeping his dad at home. I think it sounds like he’s in denial.”
Veronica let out a long breath. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “But even if you are, does that mean I shouldn’t help him? I mean, it’s none of my business if he’s making a mistake, right? I can’t stop him from doing that. He’s just trying to give his father what he wanted. It’s not like he’s doing something wrong. And what his mother’s doing isn’t cool. It’s not her house.”
Daniel stirred the onions and garlic with a wooden spoon, frowning. Then he added the rest of the vegetables to the pan. After another minute he turned back to Veronica. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s not up to you to decide whether Miguel is right or wrong. He offered you a job, you took it, and now it’s your responsibility to do the job as best you can.”
Veronica wound the strand of hair tightly around her index finger. “Do you think I shouldn’t have taken the job?”
Daniel cast her a sidelong look. “Do you like being a teacher?”
Veronica blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Okay, Detective.” Veronica released the strand of hair and gave the question some thought. Did she like being a teacher? Yes and no. She loved her students. She loved it when the class was going well, and everyone was enjoying themselves speaking French to each other, and she could tell they had learned what they were supposed to learn. She loved when a student came back to visit after graduating and told her all about traveling in Europe or sometimes other parts of the world and how they’d used what she taught them. But were there aspects of her job that she didn’t love? Sure.
Before she moved in with Daniel, she’d had bill collectors calling her because the salary she earned was too low for her to make ends meet and the health benefits she had didn’t actually cover her all that well. Administrators were often far too involved in her teaching, and she knew she wasn’t the only teacher who felt that way. The job could be emotionally demanding and sometimes downright unpleasant, if she had a student or students who were especially difficult. She’d had parents give her some serious headaches, too. And grading was a chore.
But the biggest challenge had always been the financial side, and with Daniel’s intervention that was decidedly better. She just wasn’t sure she was very comfortable with him paying off her debts. She hadn’t lied when she told Miguel she wanted to be paid so she could reimburse Daniel.
“Well?” he prompted as he retrieved a bowl of sliced beef from the refrigerator.
“I love teaching seventy-five percent of the time,” she said at last.
“Can you get me the soy sauce and the sesame oil?” Daniel requested. Veronica went to the appropriate cabinet.
“So why does that matter?” she asked as she set the bottles down beside the range.
Daniel poured some soy sauce and
sesame oil into the pan, then dumped in the noodles. “Because I think if you wanted to, you could quit being a teacher and become a professional psychic. And if you do that, you can’t be very picky about the jobs you take, at least at first.”
Veronica widened her eyes. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m serious,” Daniel said as he stirred. “Veronica, you have an exceptional gift. You told me Miguel got calls from people looking to hire you, right?”
“Khalilah said something about how she knows people who would want my services, too.”
“See?”
Veronica sighed. “I’d miss teaching.”
“So yeah, that’s the other side of it. If you don’t want to quit teaching, you can be pickier about the psychic jobs you take. Because you’ve got your teaching salary already, so you don’t have to take every job. If you don’t like a job or don’t agree with the client, you can turn it down.”
Veronica nodded. “You think I should have turned Miguel down?”
Daniel shook his head, sprinkling sugar into the mix. “I don’t know. It sounds like a nasty family situation. I mean, what’s happening to Hector is terrible, but I’d say what’s happening to his family because of it is even worse.”
“I know what you mean,” she agreed. “From what I can tell, Miguel has been close with both his mother and his father his whole life. And with the tragedy of what happened to his sister, you’d think that would be enough for one family to take. But now with this situation with his dad…” She hugged herself. “I mean, I do see Dolores’s side of it. I don’t think it’s right for her to sell the house when it’s not hers, but maybe she’s right that it’s the wisest thing to do. I wish she and Miguel could just work it out between them.”
The Gamble and the Grave (Veronica Barry Book 4) Page 5
