"Thank you." Jennifer indicated the sofa. "Please, sit down."
I took a seat, and Jennifer excused herself to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. While she was gone I studied the photos on the mantle more closely. Most of them were of Jennifer, Jason and a tall good-looking man with dark hair and eyes — her deceased husband, I assumed. The photos chronicled her family life, which seemed idyllic. But the photo I was most interested in was of Rose and Jennifer as young women. They smiled into the camera, heads bent together, arms around shoulders, and both dressed in red velvet.
"That was our last Christmas together."
Jennifer entered the room carrying a tray with a pot of tea and a plate of the sweet rolls.
I nodded and put the photo back in its place. "It’s a nice picture."
Jennifer set the tray on the coffee table. "I can have a copy made for you, if you like."
I went back to the sofa and sat. "I would like that, very much."
Jennifer served the tea. "I’m glad you came by."
I nodded. "I was out of line the other day. I’m sorry. The topic of my mother rattles me."
Jennifer patted my hand. "It’s all right. I understand."
I set my teacup on the coffee table and turned to Jennifer. "I’m sure you miss her too. She was your twin sister after all. You must’ve been close."
Jennifer nodded, staring into her teacup. "I miss her every day."
I took a deep breath, determined not to let things get out of control. "I went to see Kathy Morrissey a couple of weeks ago." I looked into Jennifer’s deep brown eyes. "Do you stay in touch with her?"
Jennifer set her teacup on the coffee table and smoothed her trousers. "Yes, in a manner of speaking." She shrugged. "She was Rose’s friend more than mine. But we see each other from time to time." She fluttered her hand toward the door. "Actually, you just missed her. She dropped by earlier."
"Really? Just in the neighborhood?"
Jennifer smiled. "No, she came by to tell me she’d met you." She bent and reached for something on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. Handing me a photo album, she said, "Kathy asked me to give you this."
I glanced at the album and held it on my lap. "Be sure to tell her I said thank you. But I wonder why she didn’t bring it to me herself. I gave her my card."
Jennifer waved a hand. "For all her bluster Kathy is a bit shy. I suppose she didn’t want to intrude."
I nodded and put the album on the floor next to my bag. "I see." I picked up my teacup again. "Well, thanks."
"Aren’t you going to look at the album? I thought you’d be excited to have more pictures of Rose."
"When I get home." I bit my lip. "This is hard for me, Jennifer. I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything. To understand. But the more I find out the more confused I am."
Jennifer nodded. "I know dear. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you. Especially after all these years of knowing nothing." She squeezed my hand, "But I can tell you that Rose would’ve been proud of you."
I blushed at the unexpected compliment. "You think so?"
Jennifer took my hand. "Oh yes. You’re a bright, lovely young woman. And so strong and determined — like your father." She patted my hair gently. "You have so much of both of them in you. I see it in your eyes and your spirit." A tear poised to fall. "You remind me so much of them."
I found myself liking Jennifer, but it felt disloyal to Rose. I had to get at whatever secret Jennifer was keeping from me. "I want to ask you something about Kathy, but I don’t want to argue."
Jennifer pulled her hand away, and her body stiffened. "All right dear."
I pulled out my phone and showed her the pictures of Rory’s grave. "I probably shouldn’t have, but I followed Kathy today to a cemetery." Tears fell and I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. "Why was Kathy bringing flowers to my father’s grave?" I looked at her. "And why isn’t he buried next to Rose?"
Jennifer made a face at the photo. "That isn’t right."
I smirked. "For once, we agree on something."
Jennifer shook her head. "No, I mean that isn’t Rory’s headstone." She frowned at me. "And he is buried in the same cemetery as Rose." Her voice cracked. "And yes, we should have them together, shouldn’t we?"
I held up my hand. "Wait a minute. Wait. What?" I shook my head. "Rory isn’t in the same cemetery. Rory is at Grandview, Rose is a Vahalla." I made a face at her. "Are you saying there are two different Rory McClellan’s?"
Then it was Jennifer’s turn to make a face. She shook her head. "No, he isn’t there. Believe me, I attended his funeral. I know where he’s buried."
I smirked. "Really? When was the last time you went to see him? I know it’s been a while since you’ve gone to Rose’s grave because there weren’t any flowers or cards laid at her gravestone."
Jennifer turned away, holding back angry tears. She blew out a loud breath. "Scotti, you have to stop this." She turned to me. "I know you’re angry and hurt, and I’m sorry for that. But everything that went wrong with your parents isn’t my fault."
I rubbed my face with both hands then pushed back my hair. "There was something wrong between Rose and Kathy wasn’t there? I sensed it when I talked to Kathy. Was it Rory?"
Jennifer fidgeted then nodded. "Yes, there was some jealousy over your father. Kathy had her eye on Rory. Why wouldn’t she? He was a handsome, mysterious rock musician. Like a drug to a young woman. Believe me, I know."
I reared back. "So Dad was a ladies man?"
Jennifer smiled. "Girls found him attractive, and Kathy certainly did.
I sidled up to Jennifer. "What happened?"
She flapped a hand. "A lot of silliness, really. Kathy came over one day and announced she’d met the man of her dreams. She was in love. He was the one. Naturally, our curiosity was piqued, and so we went to a party with Kathy to get a closer look." She nodded. "I have to admit, Kathy hadn’t exaggerated. Rory was so handsome it made you gasp. And charming. And funny." She smiled and looked suddenly young and naïve. "I could certainly see why Kathy was so taken with him."
I frowned. "Then how’d Rory end up with Rose?" I gasped. "She didn’t steal him from Kathy, did she?"
Jennifer reared back. "Hell no, she didn’t." She shrugged. "Fate, I guess you would call it. Rory got one look at Rose, and he was the one who was taken."
I laughed. "So Mom had it going on, huh?"
Jennifer frowned. "Quite the opposite. Rose was terribly shy. She never dated anyone until she met Rory. In fact, she cried when he asked her for a date because she feared he was teasing her." Jennifer clucked. "Rory had no interest in Kathy. Oh, he liked her well enough, as a chum. But he only had eyes for Rose." She looked at me. "That’s why I said fate. It was as though they were meant for each other. Only each other."
Tears welled in my eyes. "So they were in love? Truly?"
"Oh yes, they were."
"But Kathy never forgave Rose?"
Jennifer sighed and shrugged. "I think she got over it eventually. Kathy had eyes, and she could see who Rory cared for, and it wasn’t her. Still, I think it always stung a little."
I sat back. "So they didn’t fight about it, then?"
Jennifer frowned and shook her head. "No, there was never a fight. Tension for a while, but as time passed and certainly after Rose and Rory moved in together, Kathy let it go." She nibbled on sweet roll. "I suppose a bit of resentment popped up every now and then, but no one could stay mad at Rose. She was too kind and too sweet."
I cradled my belly. "I wish I could’ve known her." She took my hand, and we sat on the sofa in silence together. It was comfortable, familiar, even a little bit nice. "Aunt Jennifer?"
Jennifer startled at my salutation. "Yes dear?"
"I saw you and Kathy arguing when I drove up." I looked into her eyes. "That’s why I followed her. You both seemed so upset." I squeezed her hand. "What were you arguing about?"
Jennifer slid her hand out of mine and stood.
She went to the window and looked out. "I hate these short days, we lose the light so early."
I played with my wedding rings on the chain around my neck. "Please, talk to me Jennifer."
"Jason loves the night time. When he was little, he’d go outside just before dark and rake up the leaves from that darn sycamore. He’d make a big pile and then burrow into it." She turned to me and grinned. "Then he’d wait until I came looking for him and jump out at me in the darkness." She shook her head. "He fooled me every time."
"I don’t want to argue, I don’t. But I know you’re keeping something from me. And I think you want to tell me. Are you scared? About what I’ll think or something?"
Jennifer tugged down her sweater and came back to the sofa. "I’m so glad you came by. This was a nice visit. Let’s not spoil it."
Disappointed, I gathered my things and stood. "You want to tell me. I know it."
She held me by the shoulders and put her cheek to mine. "Go home to your husband, dear girl. We’ll talk again."
I made one last attempt. "Honest to God, I don’t care what it is. I won’t judge you, I promise."
Jennifer hooked her arm through mine and walked me to the door. "Can you make it to your car all right? I can walk you across if you like."
I smiled and shook my head. "I’m fine."
She pulled my jacket around me and smoothed down the collar. "All right then, off with you. We’ll talk again. Soon, I hope."
Jennifer stood at the door and waved as I drove off. Maybe she wasn’t the bad guy in the story of Rose, but she had secrets. Ones she wanted desperately to tell me. I knew that now. All I had to figure out was how to help her to set them free.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
I flipped through the photo album from Kathy Morrissey. From the first page tears started because they were a few more pieces of Rose. And those pieces were the only thing I had to construct the mother I’d never know. Most of the pictures were of Rose and Kathy being silly teenagers. My favorites were three candid shots of Rose; sleeping on the beach; cooking; and presenting a birthday cake to her father, Jack. I put them aside to make prints for the nursery gallery wall.
At the end of the book were a few loose photos that were never pasted to the pages. More shots of Kathy and Rose clowning around, but the last two broke my heart. Rose and Rory on the sofa, laughing, with Rory’s head to her pregnant belly. They were so happy — just like Ted and I were when the babies kicked. And the last one — Rose in funeral black, a single lily between clasped hands and looking up to the sky — looking as though a little breeze could shatter her to pieces.
Zelda put her hand on my shoulder. "Scotti?"
I turned, then fell into her arms sobbing. While Zelda consoled me, Matt moved like a ghost in the background, stocking the truck. When I came up for air, I showed Zelda the picture and she cried too. Then she smacked me. "Damn it, don’t make me cry in public."
I laughed. "Heartless bitch."
She snapped a couple of paper towels off the roll. "Cry baby." She nudged me. "Now that you made me bawl, you better make me a sandwich."
The three of us sat at the butcher-block eating and yakking about the food truck and how good business was. While we cleaned up, Matt couldn’t stop talking about how much he loved being a food trucker. "Makes me feel like alive, you know?"
I laughed. "Actually, I do know." I handed him a plate to dry. "I miss my truck."
Matt nodded. "Yeah, but you got the little dudes to think about." He tugged on my ponytail. "You’ll be back before you know it." He laughed. "And then the little dudes will be riding with us."
I hip-bumped him. "Not if their father has anything to say about it."
"Have anything to say about what?" My husband stood at the back door smirking.
I grinned and patted my belly. "Our kids becoming food truckers."
He bent and kissed my neck loudly. "How about we wait ‘til they're born to discuss career choices?"
He poured a glass of milk, grabbed a plate of cookies and sat at the butcher- block. Matt pulled up a glass and a stool, and they started talking sports.
I took advantage of the bro-bonding to drag Zelda into the office and closed the door. She frowned. "Now what? You gonna try to talk me into letting you back on the truck? Because that ain’t gonna happen." I told her to shut up and then in quick whispers recounted my surveillance of Kathy and my conversation with Jennifer. Scrolling through the pictures of the cemetery, Zelda frowned. "Give me that picture of Rose, at the funeral." I hesitated for a second then gave it to her. She looked between the photo and the pictures on my phone. "Jennifer may be right."
"About what?"
She lay the phone and the photograph side by side on the desk. "Look at them. What do you see?"
I looked and frowned. "Rose at a funeral and my father’s headstone."
Zelda tapped the desk. "Do you see that they don’t match?" I shrugged. Zelda pointed. "Ignore the headstone and Rose for a minute — look at the background. It’s different. There’s no trees around Rose at the funeral, but look at the headstone; they’re everywhere, almost crowding the place."
I studied the pictures. "Yeah but the funeral was thirty years ago, those trees could’ve come later, or just been saplings back then." There were other minute points — the grass looked wrong; in the original picture the ground was flat but in the newer pictures it was sloped. I sighed. "Okay, let’s say you’re right. What’s your point?"
Zelda smacked me with the back of her hand. "That somebody moved Rory. We know it wasn’t Jennifer, and if Rose had moved him, she would’ve known about it. Marley said Rory had no family. Who else could it be?"
A cold dread roiled in my stomach. "So you’re saying Kathy did it?" Zelda nodded. "But how? She wasn’t his family. She had no legal right to do that."
Zelda rolled her eyes and scoffed. "People can find a way to do anything they want these days. And since Rory had no next of kin, who would stop her?"
The whole idea made me shudder. "But why?"
Zelda smacked her forehead. "Because genius, she loved Rory. She wanted him for herself. And this is how she got him for herself. No wonder she doesn’t like you. Probably afraid you’ll take him away from her just like Rose did."
Much as I wanted to disagree, I couldn’t think of any other explanation for the move. Zelda thought it would be easy enough for Eric to hack around for the documentation online, and I told her to set him loose.
It was hard to believe that a woman would go to such lengths or even love a man that much so long after his death. "Still seems strange, that she carries a torch for Rory thirty years later?"
Zelda grunted. "You think? What if Ingrid had gotten Teddy boy away from you, and they’d ridden off in the sunset together? Would you still be carrying a torch for him? Especially if he died before you had a chance to win him back?"
I shivered. "First of all, don’t ever say stuff like that again." I sighed. "Second of all, yeah I would.
<<>>
I lay on my side in bed while Ted rubbed my aching back. "Is that helping?"
"Yes. And if you could keep doing it until I deliver that would be great."
"Big day?"
I rolled onto my back and yawned. "I went to see Jennifer, then I came home. Not so big." I stuck my tongue out at him. "And all I made today were sandwiches."
He stroked my cheek. "And the photo album."
"Looking at old photos doesn’t qualify as strenuous exercise."
Ted rubbed circles on my belly. "No, but they get you worked up."
"Everything to do with Rose has that effect. I can’t help that. She’s my mother — I want to know everything about her. Even if it hurts. Can’t blame me for that, can you?"
Ted lay next to me and stroked my hair. "I’m thinking about taking maternity leave from work."
I laughed. "Really? How many months pregnant are you?" I made a face at him. "You’re not even showing yet."
He pinched my butt. "Very
funny, brat. I want to stay close. For you and the babies."
I kissed him. "That’s sweet, honey, but you’re only ten minutes away. And you’re already working a shorter schedule." I tweaked his nose. "What you really want is to follow me around. And we both know that won’t fly."
He snuggled into my breasts. "I’ll just be your wingman. Like in the old days."
I laughed. "Like when you put trackers on my car, stalked me and had me climbing down balconies? Those old days?"
He propped up on his elbow and looked at me. "And what else happened today, that you and Zee had to go into the office and whisper about?"
Death of the Family Recipe (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 3) Page 34
