by Sharon Sala
Sam ran a finger around the crown of his Stetson as he tried to think how to say what he’d been feeling.
“I guess what I’m getting at is that fate did what none of us could do for ourselves. Mom is where she wanted to be. Dallas came home to you. Tragedy threw Lainey and me together again,” Sam said. “I keep telling myself this whole mess feels orchestrated by a higher power. Back in 1980 someone got away with murder. The way things are unfolding, we might be able to bring him to justice.”
“You amaze me, brother.”
“How so?” Sam asked.
“You’re different now. More thoughtful, I guess. I don’t have any other way to describe it.”
Sam shrugged. “Like I told Lainey, the boy she knew died in a war. I’m all that’s left.”
Trey squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “You are more than enough, and I’m damn glad you’re still here.”
As they drove through Mystic, Sam couldn’t help but notice how many people waved at Trey as they passed. His brother belonged here. He’d found his place, his calling. A couple of times Sam saw someone do a double take when they realized he was with Trey. It felt surreal to be sitting in the car with his brother and driving around town again. It must be strange for the locals as well, to see him when he had been gone for so long.
Finally they reached the iron gates marking the entrance to the Silver estate. The gates were wide-open today, but Sam remembered a time when they hadn’t been. When a visitor had to either call ahead to let someone know they were coming with a delivery, or wait at the entrance for someone from the big house to let them in.
“Hey, Trey, remember when these gates used to be closed all the time?”
Trey frowned. “No, not really.”
“Well, they were. I came here with Dad one time when I was little. He’d picked me up from school because it was snowing and the roads were getting bad, but he had to deliver something to the Silver estate, so we came here before we went home.”
“Where was I?” Trey asked.
“I don’t think you were old enough yet to go to school. Anyway, I just remember when we drove up, Dad rang the house on some kind of intercom, and then we sat in the car with the heater blasting, waiting for someone from the big house to open the gates.”
“Weird,” Trey said.
Sam nodded. “I didn’t think anything of it then, but now it seems like overkill. I mean, Mystic is hardly LA. No one thinks of this place as the Silver Estate. It’s just the Silver place.”
“Well, today they’re open and we’re going through,” Trey said, and they drove up to the main house.
They were on their way to the front door when T.J. drove up behind them and parked beneath the portico.
“Hey, guys! What’s up?” he said, walking toward them.
“We need to speak to your dad. Is he in?”
T.J. frowned. “He was going out of town this morning. I don’t know if he’s back yet or not. Come in and we’ll find out, okay?”
“Thanks,” Trey said and followed him inside.
T.J. paused a moment in the foyer, listening, and then pointed to a room just up the hall.
“That’s the library,” he said. “Why don’t you two make yourselves comfortable in there, and I’ll find Cook and see what she knows.”
“Thank you,” Trey said.
He walked toward the library as T.J. headed in the opposite direction. Sam lagged behind Trey, watching until T.J. disappeared around a corner, then followed his brother into the room.
Trey was moving around the room, looking at the portraits.
“I didn’t know the Silver family had been on this land that many years. Look at this! The first Silver was born in the late 1700s, so he would have been the first to settle here. And this one lived here during the Civil War,” he said.
“There’s Marcus,” Sam said, pointing to the latest portrait, which was hanging on the other side of the room.
Trey turned, thinking Marcus had entered the room, and then saw the portrait Sam was pointing at.
“Quite a legacy,” Trey said.
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Also a lot of weight to bear on your shoulders.”
Before Trey could comment, T.J. was back.
“Sorry it took so long. Today is the maid’s day off. Cook wasn’t here, so I had to call Dad to see where he was and how long it would take for him to get home.”
“So he’s not here,” Trey said.
“No, and he said he won’t be back until late.”
“Well, then, just tell him I’ll come back another time.”
“I sure will. Is there a message or anything?” T.J. asked.
“Not really. Just more stuff regarding the murders.”
T.J.’s expression fell. “I’m so sorry about your mother. She was a nice lady. I lost my mother a few years back, and I still miss her every day.”
“What happened to her?” Sam asked.
“Oh, she hated living here in Mystic. Kept wanting Dad to move to the capital, somewhere with some life and dignity, she would say, but Dad wouldn’t go, so she divorced him. She was killed less than six months later in a wreck.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Sam said.
T.J. nodded. “Thanks. You know, sometimes you have to do the hard stuff, even when you don’t want to. If she’d stayed, she might still be alive.”
“I can see how you would think that, but try not to beat yourself up,” Trey said. “We’ll see ourselves out.”
He and Sam left the library. They were on the way to the cruiser when Sam spoke.
“So now we know why the gates aren’t closed anymore.”
“Huh? Why?” Trey asked.
“Mrs. Silver didn’t like Mystic. I’m guessing those gates gave her a feeling of superiority. She could shut out the rabble and hide behind the facade of her little palace.”
“Oh, right,” Trey said. “It’s weird what matters to people, isn’t it?”
“Kind of like cheating. Some people would be humiliated to get caught. Some would laugh it off and probably try it again another time,” Sam said.
They drove away without answers today, but there was still tomorrow.
* * *
T.J. watched from the library window, frowning, wondering what the brothers knew that he didn’t. He didn’t like surprises, especially when his dad was getting ready to announce his bid for a Senate seat.
Ten
Lainey was in tears. She’d been through her entire closet looking for something nice to wear for her dinner date, and everything was so loose, she looked like she was wearing a sack. Sam would be there in a little over an hour, which didn’t give her any time to drive into Mystic to shop. She was verging on panic mode when her phone rang. When she saw it was him, she sat down on the side of the bed to talk.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hey, honey, it’s me. We still on for tonight?”
“Nothing fits,” she said, and then burst into tears.
Sam frowned. “Oh, hey, hey, no tears,” he said. “I can fix that. You just get all prettied up and wait for me to get there, okay?”
“I’ll be prettied up in blue jeans. Maybe we should just go to Charlie’s for burgers,” she said.
“It’s gonna be fine. See you soon.”
Lainey hung up, and then fell backward onto the bed with a frustrated thump.
“My first real date in ten years and I have nothing to wear.”
* * *
Sam dressed in five minutes, checked to make sure he had his gun, grabbed his hat and headed for the motel office at a lope. Delia was sitting behind the counter watching TV when he ran in.
“Where would you go to buy something pretty for a date?” he asked.
Delia turned down the sound, and
then grinned. “Is this an invitation?”
“I’m serious, and I don’t have much time,” he said.
“Okay, honey. I had to tease you a little. Look, there’s a really nice boutique here in town. It’s called Le Chic.”
“Oh, I saw that the other day. Would they still be open?” Sam asked.
“You head that way, and I’ll call and tell them to hang around.”
“Thanks, Delia. I owe you,” Sam said and headed for his SUV.
He drove with an eye on the traffic, hoping he could get there in time, and breathed a quick sigh of relief when he saw the open sign was still lit.
When he walked in, he brought the outside with him. A stiff breeze rattled the bell over the door and blew a handful of scarves off a rack.
“Oh, sorry!” he said, and started to retrieve them when a young woman came running.
“It’s not your fault. I need to move that rack,” she said. “Are you Sam?”
He nodded.
“I’m Shawn. Delia called. Said you needed some help. What can we do?”
And just like that, his anxiety eased. He eyed the girl, judging her size against Lainey’s.
“I need to get something pretty for my girl. We’re going out to eat tonight, and nothing in her closet fits her anymore.”
Shawn giggled. “That’s the complaint of every girl,” she said.
“Not her. She’s been sick. Everything is too big.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be thoughtless. What do you think she would like...a dress, or slacks and a top?”
“Slacks and a top,” he said.
“Can you guess her size?”
“What’s yours?” Sam asked.
“I usually wear a six or an eight,” Shawn said.
“Maybe a two or a four.”
Shawn nodded. “Okay, we can look at both sizes, and you can be the judge.”
Sam followed her to the pants section, where she began pointing out different fabrics and styles. He thought of how thin Lainey was and how cold it would get when the sun went down, and opted for a heavier fabric.
“Here’s something in black velvet,” Shawn said. “You can’t go wrong with black, and velvet is comfortable to wear. This is a size four.” She took the pants off the hanger, and then held them up. “And this is the size two,” she said and held them up as well, so he could compare waist sizes.
“The size two,” Sam said. “But she’s taller than you,” he added.
She held the pants up to her waist, and then pointed.
“These are way too long for me. They should be about right for her. Now, what about a top? Maybe a pretty sweater to hug her dainty curves?”
Sam took a deep breath. “She doesn’t have any of those right now,” he said.
Shawn’s eyes widened, and then filled with tears.
“I’m sorry. I keep saying that, don’t I?” She wiped her eyes and tried a shaky smile. “Let’s start over, okay?”
“Look, it’s okay. It’s a tough situation, but she’s still alive and that’s all that matters to me. I want a top that makes her feel good about herself without calling attention to the obvious.”
“Of course, and if I have it in a small, I know just the one,” Shawn said and headed for the other side of the store, where jackets and blouses were hanging.
He followed with a lump in his throat.
“How about this?” Shawn said, holding up a white silky blouse. The neckline dipped to a slight V, and the front was edged from button to buttonhole with large floppy ruffles.
Sam imagined those ruffles disguising the fact that Lainey was missing both breasts.
“I’ll take it, along with the pants,” he said.
“How about this black velvet jacket to finish off the look? If she’s a bit thin right now, the peplum waist will give her a little definition, and the one button at the waistline will leave the ruffles on the blouse free to fall on the outside of the jacket. See?” She held the jacket up over the blouse to demonstrate.
“Yes,” he said, and pulled out his wallet.
“Do you want me to leave them on the hangers? I mean, since she’s going to be wearing them shortly, the velvet would be fine, but we wouldn’t want to put a wrinkle in the blouse.”
“On the hangers,” he said.
Ten minutes later he was on his way out of town.
* * *
It was just after six when he pulled up to the front of Lainey’s house and parked. He grabbed the plastic garment bag and headed for the house.
Lainey opened the door, and then shivered as the wind whipped in.
“It’s cold,” she said as Sam came through the door.
She shut it quickly behind him, shivering as he wrapped her up in a one-armed hug.
“You smell good,” he said, and then kissed her. “Mmm, and you taste good, too. Here you go, Cinderella. I’m not your fairy godmother, but I like to think I have an eye for fashion, especially when it’s on you.”
Lainey’s heart skipped. “I won’t be long,” she said, and made a run for her bedroom.
“Yell if you need help!” he said. “We can be late.”
He heard her laughing as her bedroom door swung shut. That was all he needed to hear.
He took off his hat and coat, and then sat down and turned on the TV to see if he could catch a weather report. Since they were going to search the Colquitt Mining site tomorrow, he was hoping it would stay clear.
A few minutes passed and he was listening to the end of the weather report when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned off the TV and stood up.
“Oh, wow. Oh, Lainey,” he said.
She was beaming, and Sam couldn’t stop staring.
The straight-leg pants made her legs look even longer than they already were, the little black jacket with the flared waist put a much-needed curve on her backside and the fall of white ruffles from the blouse beneath was like icing on a cake. He saw the black half boots with hammered silver on the toes, the cap of red curls and the smile on her face, and knew he’d hit it out of the park. She looked like she’d stepped out of Vogue magazine.
“You look beautiful.”
“It fits. It all fits,” she said, so happy she couldn’t stand still. “I can’t believe you picked this all out by yourself, but I love it.”
“I had help. A girl named Shawn saved the day for both of us,” Sam said, trying to take it all in. “You are going to set heads to turning tonight. Just remember you’re with me.”
She laughed and all but leaped into his arms.
“Thank you, Sam! I haven’t felt this good about myself in such a long time.”
He kissed her forehead and then both cheeks, saving her pink lips for last.
“Don’t want to mess up any makeup,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”
“I just need my coat out of the hall closet.”
“Do you want the long gray one?” he asked as he opened the closet door.
“Is it cold enough for that?”
“Yes, the wind is sharp, and the sun is about to go down.”
“Then, yes, the gray one,” she said.
He held it out as she slipped it on. She grabbed her purse as he opened the door and turned on the porch light.
Lainey locked the door, then turned to face the wind, pulling the coat up around her neck as she looked out across her yard and the road beyond.
“Everything okay?” Sam asked.
She nodded, thinking what a gift this was.
Her.
Sam.
On their way to somewhere else.
She’d waited a long time for this moment.
“Everything is perfect,” she said, and then smiled.
&n
bsp; They walked off the porch together, and minutes later were on their way to Cutter’s Steakhouse.
* * *
Will Porter exited the hospital, his thoughts in free-fall.
Rita was dying. She had suffered a stroke, and her organs were shutting down.
All these months he’d wished her dead, and now it was happening. He didn’t know whether to drop to his knees and pray to God for forgiveness, or dance. This was not the time to file as a candidate for state superintendent of schools, but he almost didn’t care. When this was all over, he had the rest of his life to do as he wished.
He thought about going home to eat, but there was no food in the house. He considered picking up something on the way home, then decided to stop off at Cutter’s. He was in the mood for a good steak, and he always saw people he knew there. Maybe someone would ask him to join them. Either way, he wasn’t ready to go home. His conscience was already there, waiting for him.
* * *
Greg Standish had been out of town all day, but he knew the for-sale sign would be on the front lawn when he got home. He’d signed the papers with the Realtor this morning and let the man in to take pictures. The man had called him around noon to tell him that he’d put the lock box on the front door and the for-sale sign up in the front yard.
Greg could only imagine the hell he was going to catch, but he didn’t really care. Just the simple act of finally deciding to cut off the money his wife and daughter were bleeding from him was a start.
The sun was setting when he drove back into Mystic and headed for home. The streetlights were on, and as he neared the house he saw the for-sale sign in the yard. He felt a moment of regret, and then it was gone. The house was nothing but a weight around his neck.
He pulled up in the drive and went around to the back door to go in, as was his habit. The house was dark; the rooms were chilly. He frowned and began turning on lights as he went, and turned up the thermostat when he got to the hall.
It wasn’t until he got to the bedroom that he noticed things were missing. Gloria’s jewelry box that always sat on the top of the dresser was gone. His first thought was that they had been robbed, and then it hit him. He ran for the closet. Her clothes were gone, shoes and purses, too, underwear missing from the dresser drawers.
