The Season of Silver Linings

by Christine Nolfi

  “Why didn’t Millicent have the PI check out the lead?” she asked. “Why go to Indianapolis herself?”

  Vasily regarded her with disbelief. “You know the reason,” he remarked dryly. When she inhaled quickly, the truth dawning, he added, “Millicent has the impression most of us are simpletons. She only trusted the PI to find leads.”

  “And she insisted on checking out each one personally?”

  Vasily nodded. “The cook at the B&B? The PI did sloppy work on her background. She’d recently finished a stint in prison, a significant fact the detective missed. When informed she’d been located with the help of a detective, the ex-con pulled out a gun.” When Jada gasped, he added, “Millicent wasn’t hurt. She did leave in a hurry. After that, she kept her real motivations under wraps whenever looking into the latest Jada.”

  Philip, silent until now, shifted uneasily in his chair. “Clear something up for me. What is Millicent’s relationship to Bodi Wagner? I’m tired of guessing.”

  Mention of Bodi filled the air with sizzling electricity. Vasily looked up sharply. “Is Bodi here?”

  Anticipation sparked on his features. He swiveled in his chair, seemed about to leap to his feet. His reaction was heartbreaking to behold, as if the missing girl would miraculously appear.

  Philip lifted a hand in warning. “We’re not discussing Bodi until I get some answers.”

  “Who are you to call the shots?”

  “Pal, you’re starting to piss me off. Answer the question.”

  Fearful they’d come to blows, Jada rose. She approached their young visitor, who’d flung his attention back to the door, his expression flowering with the most terrible example of hope. Millicent’s quest to find Bodi wasn’t a sole effort. The outcome mattered greatly to the young man in her employ.

  “Please, Vasily.” She rested her palm on his shoulder. “Explain Millicent’s connection to Bodi. It’s important. I’ll tell you everything once you do.”

  He flinched, his attention drawn to the hand settled on his shoulder. His eyes lifted to hers. He seemed astonished by the way she’d broken the physical boundary between them to speak with the lilting affection of a mother calming an overexcited child.

  The confidence drained from his handsome features. Tapping his foot, he became fidgety, like a schoolboy confronted with wrongdoing.

  Has Millicent sent him to Sweet Lake seeking answers, without thinking he’d need to volunteer any in return? Jada wondered if he’d earn his employer’s displeasure by revealing too much.

  With bated breath, she waited as he quietly weighed the merits of speaking candidly or remaining silent.

  At last he came to a decision. “Millicent is Bodi’s stepmother,” he said.

  Confusion sank Jada back into the chair. Her stepmother?

  Millicent was well into her sixties. Bodi was nineteen at the time of her death. The math didn’t add up.

  A conclusion Philip shared. “She’s married to Bodi’s father? She must be a lot older.”

  “She is a lot older,” Vasily agreed, “by nearly twenty years. Millicent isn’t married to Bodi’s father. She’s married to Bodi’s mother.” He paused to gauge their reaction. Pleasure creased his features when they merely stared at him, eager to hear more. “They were married during Bodi’s senior year of high school.”

  Philip scraped the hair from his brow. “Man, I didn’t see that coming.”

  “Most people don’t,” Vasily replied smoothly. Sadness tensed his features. “Bodi ran away a few months after the wedding. Not because of the marriage—she loved Millicent, although they fought like cats and dogs. She ran off right after the accident.”

  “What accident?” Philip dropped his hand to his lap.

  “Wait. I assumed Jada told you.”

  Philip regarded Jada with confusion. “Did you tell me about an accident? I’m having trouble keeping up.”

  Deep in her own thoughts, Jada reached for the fragrant sachet she’d left beneath her desk lamp. Fingering the soft cloth, she recalled Penelope’s gentle words as she presented the simple gift. Keep this with you. It will help resolve the burden. Then she envisioned Bodi, her arms pebbled with flour as she mixed the dough. Love or hate—I never can decide how I feel about rosemary. Next Jada’s thoughts flowed to Millicent, the mystery in the historian’s gaze blending with unmistakable devotion as she uttered the simple pronouncement. I love rosemary.

  The historian hadn’t meant a sharp-scented herb, the ingredient in a recipe handed down through the generations by Penelope’s ancestors. She’d meant something different. Something infinitely more important.

  Millicent was referring to a person. A woman, Jada decided, she hoped very much to meet.

  “Bodi’s mother . . . ,” she said to Vasily. “Her name is Rosemary.”

  He nodded. “Rosemary Wagner-Earhardt.”

  “Bodi didn’t get along with her?”

  “Not from what I understand. I came into Millicent’s employ after her stepdaughter ran away. Rosemary and her ex-husband had difficulty controlling Bodi. The highs and lows, her provocative behavior with boys at school—from what Millicent has described, they viewed Bodi as a constant challenge. They divorced when she entered high school. The only person able to get Bodi to stay on medication for any length of time was Millicent. Bodi hated taking meds.”

  The story was immensely sad. “When did her parents learn she was bipolar?” Jada asked. The question took Vasily aback, and she assured him, “Millicent never mentioned Bodi directly. During one of our baking lessons, she did say her stepdaughter was bipolar. I thought she was talking about Bodi’s mother.”

  “Given Millicent’s age, I can see why you came to the wrong conclusion.” Vasily hesitated. “I believe the first psychiatrist that worked with Bodi gave the diagnosis. She was in junior high. Seventh grade, I believe.”

  Jada blinked. First psychiatrist . . . meaning there were many? Overwhelmed, she tried to digest all she’d been told. Philip’s late wife hadn’t been merely a teenager with a mercurial personality. She’d suffered from an untreated disease.

  A treatable disease.

  How long was Bodi off her medication when Penelope first met her in Columbus? Heartsick, Jada wished she’d possessed these facts years ago. If she’d known, she would’ve encouraged Bodi to seek treatment. She wouldn’t have let up until she did.

  At the door, a spirited rapping commenced. The sharp sounds drew Jada from her thoughts.

  Millicent strode inside.

  With confusion, she swung her attention across their heads, still bent close in discussion, before fixing Vasily with a look of fury. “Vasily, I’ve had about enough of your help to last a lifetime. I told you to fetch Jada, not interrogate her on my behalf.” Puffing out a raspy breath, she pivoted to shut the door. “How difficult is it to follow a simple order? You could’ve at least sent a text and explained the delay.”

  Vasily eased his tall frame from the chair. “I couldn’t send a text.” He didn’t seem the least perturbed by the outburst.

  “Of all the stupid excuses—why in blazes not?”

  “Your better half forgot to pack her smartphone, and you lost yours in O’Hare, remember? When you were bickering with Rosemary in the food court?”

  “How can anyone remember to bring matching shoes for every outfit, yet forget to drop a phone into her purse? And stop exaggerating. We were conducting a lively debate in the food court.”

  “You were bickering.”

  She flapped her arms at her hips. “What if we were? I’ll never understand why she cares for sushi. The sight of raw fish is nauseating.” Her attention wove back to Jada, and injured pride shifted through her eyes. “Hello, dear. I suppose you’re already aware that we need to talk.”

  Jada, reeling at the turn of events, joined them by the door. “Why didn’t you let me know you were flying in?” she asked, taking care to keep her voice steady. She’d hurt Millicent by lying to her. Now she’d wound her more deeply onc
e the truth about Bodi was revealed. “Rosemary is here with you?”

  “She’s out back, enjoying the new patio. Told me to take my good sweet time finding you because I’m making her nervous, as if she’s not feeling just as—” Millicent cut off. “Vasily told you about Rosemary?”

  “He did.”

  Millicent shrank back. “What else is going on in here?”

  Something childlike and plaintive came across in the query. Jada’s heart went out to her. The desire to shelter the historian through this most difficult storm sprinted past her apprehension regarding the bleak conversation to come.

  She pressed a steadying palm to Millicent’s arm. “We’ve been discussing your stepdaughter,” she remarked slowly. “I met Bodi when she first came to Sweet Lake seven years ago. She was my friend.”

  A stuttering breath escaped Millicent. “When I asked, that day in the kitchen, why did you lie?”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to deceive you. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “Tell me why you did.”

  The chair creaked as Philip came to his feet. “Millicent, she was only doing what I’d asked. I’m the one who owes you an apology.”

  “You do? I’d certainly like to know why.”

  “We’ll get to that soon.” Miserable, he compressed his lips. Then he said, “There’s a lot we need to explain. Would you like Vasily to go out and get Rosemary? She’ll want to hear this too.”

  At the gravity in his voice, Millicent’s fingers twitched with the palsy that stormed across her great dignity whenever distress consumed her. A tremor shook her left arm. On instinct, Jada took her hand. Their gazes meshed, one rife with sympathy, the other dark with fear. Beneath the fear, gratitude flickered in Millicent’s eyes.

  Withdrawing from Jada’s hold, she lifted her head like a banner. Her jaw set, she strode to the chair vacated by her doctoral student.

  “Let’s get started. Philip, Jada—sit down.” Lowering herself, she managed to rein in the palsy as she gripped the armrests. “I’d rather hear the details before we involve my wife. Rosemary is perfectly content on the patio for now. She’s enjoying the beautiful weather.” To Vasily, she added, “The lobby is a madhouse with people running in and out. If anyone comes looking for Jada, send them away.”

  With a nod, he leaned against the door.

  Chapter 21

  Millicent wasted no time getting started.

  She directed her first question to Jada. “You met my stepdaughter seven years ago? What brought her to Sweet Lake?”

  “She came at Penelope’s invitation.” Anxiety trundled up from Jada’s gut. Philip took her hand, and she was glad for his support. She gave Millicent a brief explanation of Bodi’s attempt at purse snatching and her agreement to come to the town. Wrapping up, she added, “You’ve met Penelope, so you know what I mean. Bodi wasn’t very trusting, but she was persuaded to try starting over in Sweet Lake.”

  “She lived at Penelope’s house?”

  “In the guest bedroom.”

  “I suppose she also worked at Gift of Garb.” When Jada nodded, Millicent sank back in her chair. “Why didn’t I sort this out for myself? I wonder if Penelope was trying to tell me—she did go into quite a bit of detail about why she likes to help troubled kids. Bodi is certainly one of those. Well, she was back then. I hope she’s changed, or at least gone back on her medication.”

  The moisture fled Jada’s throat. “We didn’t know she was bipolar,” she said, dreading the next question Millicent was sure to pose.

  “Of course you didn’t. Bodi refused to believe there was anything wrong. She refused to believe she was bipolar.”

  Breaking in, Philip said, “I’m still confused about something. From what Vasily told us, Bodi was raised in a loving home. When she first came to Sweet Lake, she looked like she’d been beaten.”

  Millicent studied him closely. “You’re also friends with my stepdaughter?” When he dropped his eyes, she looked back to Jada. “Is she still here? After all this time? Now, I don’t care what nonsense she’s trumped up about me or her mother—or Rosemary’s ex-husband, for that matter. Bodi’s childhood wasn’t perfect, but she was most assuredly loved. I insist you take me to her immediately. We’ll leave Rosemary in the dark until I’ve had the opportunity to hash this out. Even if Bodi isn’t willing to speak to her mother, let me attempt to reason with her.”

  Philip pulled Jada’s hand into his lap. She sensed the turmoil churning inside him.

  There was still so much to share. A heartbreaking task.

  Sparing them both the anguish for a moment, Philip said, “I won’t ask anything else, Millicent. Just walk me through why Bodi was in such bad shape.”

  The injury in his voice lifted the historian’s chin. It was clear she was aware his reason for asking, still hidden, was important.

  “You first met her seven years ago?”

  “That’s right.”

  Some of the fire went out of Millicent’s gaze. “My guess? Her injuries weren’t healed, the ones from the car accident. Bodi was driving. I was in the passenger seat, Rosemary in back.”

  “Rosemary wasn’t wearing a seatbelt,” Jada guessed, and her stomach clenched. So much of the truth had been staring her in the face, but she’d never put the pieces together. “When you told me about the accident during one of our baking lessons . . . I thought you were behind the wheel.”

  “Bodi was driving.” Millicent bowed her head, stared absently at her feet. “We were arguing about her medication. She’d gone off it again. I was trying to persuade her to go back on.” She looked up, grim-faced. “Rosemary will tell you the icy roads were to blame. I’m not so sure. I’ve always wondered if Bodi purposely drove into the tree. Her airbag deployed. Mine did too. We were pretty banged up, but nothing life-threatening.”

  Jada’s blood turned cold. “And Rosemary?”

  “She was”—Millicent’s voice broke—“thrown from the car.”

  In the deafening quiet, pain shuddered up her back. Her complexion went grey. Shutting her eyes, she gripped the armrests of her chair. The sight of her undoing, her tangible despair, blurred Jada’s vision. She flinched when Philip reached over and tenderly swiped the tears from her cheeks.

  Once Millicent pulled herself together, she finished the story in a dull monotone. “Rosemary was paralyzed from the waist down. She experiences brutal pain in her back and shoulders—physical therapy twice a week helps. She still agrees to the sessions, all these years later. She would’ve put herself into an early grave if I weren’t so damn stubborn. She’s only forty-seven, you know. Still beautiful, and equally stubborn.” Millicent chuckled then, her face now bleached of color. “It’s the one thing we have in common. The stubborn streak.”

  The story finished, Millicent struggled out of her chair. She looked exhausted from the telling, too spent to realize they’d never given her a satisfactory explanation about Bodi’s whereabouts. Agony stole through Jada at the sight of the proud woman waving Vasily back as he tried to approach; this bright, strong-willed soul reduced so cruelly by the story she had shared.

  Philip rose too. With the smallest gesture, he telegraphed for Jada to stay where she was. She pitied him. The task he’d set for himself was difficult.

  Brutal, really. Philip despised venturing back into the darkest memories of his past. He would do so now out of a sense of obligation.

  Millicent looked to him expectantly.

  Relief warmed Jada’s chilled heart. Philip would take it from here.

  Chapter 22

  Millicent and Philip spoke in low voices.

  Face-to-face, they each studied the floor as Philip began, his arms crossed as he ventured into the story. Vasily stepped to the window behind Jada’s desk, and stood with his feet planted wide apart. He leaned into the sunlight as if the golden waterfall of light could wash away the awful snippets of conversation reaching his ears. Jada, much nearer to the conversation, sat rigidly.

  Millic
ent looked up sharply, her eyes glinting with shock. From her reaction, Jada knew Philip had reached the tragic ending on the ice-glazed lake.

  “She fell through?” Millicent asked weakly. “There was no one to stop her?”

  “There wasn’t time,” Philip said.

  An evasion, and the historian frowned. “Was Bodi alone, or not?”

  “Jada followed her.” A protective note rimmed Philip’s voice. “There wasn’t anything she could do.”

  The thin assurance trembled distress up Millicent’s stout frame. She pivoted toward Jada. “You . . . stood there and watched her die? If Bodi was your friend, you must’ve had some idea of the demons she battled. Why did you just stand there?”

  The accusation struck like a blow. Unprepared, Jada covered her face with her hands.

  “Millicent, don’t,” Philip said. “She couldn’t get to Bodi in time. Don’t you think she tried? No one could have done more.”

  There was no dignity in hiding behind her eyelids like a child. Jada lowered her hands to her lap.

  “Millicent, I will tell you everything, and answer all your questions,” she whispered. Her heart was a stone in her chest, but it was a relief, a small and horrible consolation, not to feel anything at all. “Later today, when we have an opportunity to speak alone with Rosemary, we’ll cover everything. I imagine she’ll insist on hearing the worst details. Philip doesn’t know all of it—I’ve never spoken about Bodi’s last minutes with my friends. It’s very difficult for me.” On shaky legs, she joined them. Millicent was leaning against the wall, clearly overcome by the story. Jada waited until her eyes lifted before adding, “There’s more. Something else we need to tell you.”

  “Something I need to tell you,” Philip put in. Grappling with his composure, he shoved his fists into the pockets of his jeans. “Millicent, I was married to Bodi.”

  The announcement put blotchy patches of color on the historian’s cheeks. She stared blankly for a long moment before her eyes cleared.