Strangers in Their Midst

by Patricia H. Rushford

  “Last name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I see.” The receptionist put her on hold. Several minutes later she came back on the line.

  “Sorry to take so long, but we do have a couple of clients who have been known to wander off. All of our patients are present and accounted for, and besides that, we don’t have a patient named Claire.”

  Kate thanked her and hung up. She was about to call the assisted-living facility in Pine Ridge when Claire emerged from the bathroom.

  “Feel better?” Kate set the phone back on the table.

  “I do, thank you.” The periwinkle blue pants and top brought out the blue in Claire’s eyes. Her white hair was damp, but it curled around her thin face. Kate loaned her a pair of slippers and set Claire’s soiled shoes aside. She’d make a point to clean them up later.

  Kate walked her unexpected guest into the kitchen. “Have a seat, and I’ll put the water on for our tea.” She poured fresh water into the teakettle and set it on the stove.

  That done, she decided to do something about Claire’s muddy outfit. “Make yourself comfortable, Claire. I’ll put your clothes in the wash while I’m waiting for the water to boil.”

  Picking up Claire’s clothing and shoes from the bathroom floor, Kate hurried into the garage where they kept their washer and dryer. She set the temperature to cold and the load to medium. Not certain what to do with the shoes, Kate brushed as much dirt as she could from them. She’d had satin pumps before and didn’t see much hope for these, unless one dyed them black.

  Kate didn’t want to leave Claire alone for too long. Climbing the two stairs from the garage to the entry put a kink in Kate’s hip and sent a shooting pain through her arthritic knee. She hobbled back into the kitchen.

  “What kind of tea would you like, Claire?” Kate asked as she checked the teakettle and opened the cupboard.

  “Earl Grey is my favorite, though I’ve been known to drink Darjeeling.”

  “I have just the thing.” Kate reached for the tin of loose Earl Grey that she kept on hand for Renee Lambert. “You said you were new in town. Where do you live?”

  “I...” Claire fixed her gaze on the flower arrangement in the middle of the table.

  Maybe she doesn’t know or can’t remember.

  Kate supposed Claire could have wandered away from a home here in town. With a population of thirty-five hundred people, there was bound to be an adult foster-care facility around. She had never seen Claire before their encounter the previous day. This she knew for certain. The countess wasn’t the type of person one could easily forget.

  “Claire?” Kate touched her arm, noting the transparency of the older woman’s skin.

  Claire turned her gaze from the flowers back to Kate. “Now, dear, what were you saying?”

  “I asked where you lived.”

  “Of course.” She smiled. “We have a lovely estate. Rolling green hills, trees, a stable, and horses. I love to ride.” She sighed and smiled at an apparent memory. “My father is an earl, you know.”

  “Really?” The kettle whistled, and Kate excused herself, relieved to have a few moments to gather her thoughts. An earl and countess? Not here in Tennessee.

  Where are you from, Claire? Who are you really?

  While she considered her guest’s claims, Kate chose a porcelain teapot and matching cups and saucers out of the cupboard and set them on the counter, then placed the tea inside before pouring in the boiling water.

  “What a lovely tea service,” Claire exclaimed when Kate set the teapot and cups on the table.

  “Thank you. I collect them. Most of them are gifts from my family and friends.” Kate poured the brewed tea into their cups.

  “My mother has a beautiful service.” Creases formed on Claire’s forehead. “She left it to me.”

  “Speaking of family, where is yours?”

  “England.” Claire brought the cup to her lips but didn’t drink. She closed her eyes and drew in a lingering breath. “Bergamot gives Earl Grey the most pleasant scent, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, it does.” Kate arranged several shortbread cookies on a plate and brought them to the table as well.

  “Ellen likes a touch of lavender in her Earl Grey.”

  “Ellen? Is she your daughter?” Kate guessed.

  “Yes. She should be along soon to pick me up.”

  Kate suspected Claire’s daughter had no idea where her mother was. “What’s your last name, Claire?”

  Claire wrinkled her forehead, closed her eyes, and lowered her head. “Ellen should be here. I need to rest. We’re supposed to visit Her Majesty this evening.”

  Whoa. How could someone this confused be left alone?

  “I see. How far did you walk to get here?”

  “Not far.” She raised her head and waved her hand toward the other side of Smoky Mountain Road.

  Kate sighed. There were no houses in that direction, just a path that led through the woods, eventually connecting with Smith Street—or so she’d heard. She and Paul had thought about hiking that trail but had never gotten around to it.

  “When we’ve finished our tea, you’re welcome to take a nap here. I have a cozy quilt you can snuggle under.”

  Claire readily agreed and set her half empty cup down. Kate helped Claire into the master bedroom where she’d be most comfortable. Claire stretched out on the bed. Then, like a child, she rolled to her side and pulled up her legs. She’d closed her eyes and had fallen asleep before Kate could collect the quilt from the cedar chest at the end of the bed to cover her.

  “What am I going to do with you?” Kate murmured. Where could Claire have walked from? The Hamilton Springs Hotel? Maybe she and her daughter were staying there. And what was the deal with the countess thing?

  Of course, it could be that she hadn’t walked at all. What if someone had dropped her off? What if her daughter, if she even had a daughter, couldn’t take care of her anymore—or didn’t want to?

  Kate shook off her disparaging suspicions. The scenario made no sense. If Claire’s family couldn’t care for her, wouldn’t they take her to a nursing home or an adult foster home?

  Kate closed the bedroom door and headed for the kitchen phone. It was time to call Skip.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Hanlon,” the deputy said after she’d explained her concerns about Claire. “I haven’t gotten any calls about anybody that’s missin’, but I’ll check with Sheriff Roberts. You don’t know her last name?”

  “No. I asked, but it’s possible she doesn’t remember.”

  “Does she have any ID on her?”

  “She had a bag.” Kate spotted the brown velvet drawstring purse on the chair that held Claire’s cape. “Hold on a minute; I’ll check.” Kate felt guilty opening the purse, but she needed to know who this lady was. The bag was empty.

  “Sorry, no ID.” Puzzled, Kate pulled the drawstrings to close the bag and set it on the table.

  “Okay. Thanks,” Skip said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Let me know as soon as you hear anything.”

  “Will do.”

  After hanging up, Kate put in a call to the Pine Ridge assisted-living facility and the nursing home. Neither had heard of Ellen or Claire.

  Not yet ready to give up, Kate dialed Gail Carson’s number. Being the town’s only real-estate agent, Gail kept track of everyone moving into and out of Copper Mill. Whether it was selling real estate or looking for a man, Gail was a woman on a mission all the time. Kate pictured the sophisticated woman on the other end of the line, with her high-tech wireless earpiece neatly positioned and a perfectly manicured hand gesturing in the air.

  “Sorry, Kate, I don’t remember anyone like Claire, and from the way you described her, I wouldn’t forget. I haven’t run across an Ellen lately either.”

  Kate sighed. She was running out of ideas. “Thanks anyway. If you hear of anything, could you give me a call?”

  Gail agreed, then added, “There is one possibility
. I’ll talk to the Realtors in Pine Ridge. Maybe they know something.”

  Kate thanked her and hung up. She had one more call to make—to the Hamilton Springs Hotel.

  No one named Claire or Ellen had checked in. “We did have a Red Hat luncheon yesterday, though,” the receptionist said. “Maybe the woman you’re looking for came to that.”

  “That’s great. Thanks.” Kate was relieved that there indeed had been a meeting of the Red Hat Society, which explained the hat and outfit the previous day, but what about today? And what about Claire’s confusion? To her knowledge, Copper Mill didn’t have a Red Hat group, but perhaps Pine Ridge did. She’d have to check with Renee Lambert or one of the beauty-shop ladies.

  Renee didn’t answer her phone, but Betty Anderson at the beauty shop told Kate that there was a group in Pine Ridge and that several ladies from Copper Mill were members.

  Kate poised a pen over a notepad. “Can you give me some names?”

  “Well, there’s Renee and Caroline. Lucy Mae, I think, but she didn’t go to the lunch yesterday. I’m sure there are others, but I’ll have to think on it. Right now I have a perm to deal with.”

  “Thanks, Betty. I appreciate the help.” Kate hung up, then tried once again to call Renee. Still no answer, and when Kate called the mayor’s wife, Lucy Mae Briddle, the phone went straight to a machine.

  Not knowing what else to do at the moment, Kate sent a prayer upward and then went back to her studio, thinking she could get back to the stained-glass project while Claire slept.

  Though she managed to clean a few pieces, she couldn’t stay focused. Maybe a cup of coffee would help. Kate paused at the door, leaving it slightly ajar. Lord, please help us find Claire’s family.

  As she peeked in on Claire, Kate couldn’t help but think of her own mother. The loss still brought an ache to Kate’s heart. Did Claire’s daughter love her as much as Kate had loved her own mom? If she did, she must be frantic by now.

  Her stomach fluttered. Did Claire even have a daughter?

  Heading into the kitchen for coffee, she spotted Fish, their mail carrier, walking down the sidewalk, and she hurried out to get the mail. “Thanks, Fish,” she called after him.

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Hanlon. Hope you’re having a good day.” He went back to whistling and walking before she could answer.

  Her worries about Claire fled briefly as she pulled a small envelope addressed to her out of the mailbox. The card inside held a note from Troy Eaton, thanking her for the help she and the others had given him. No return address, she noticed, but the postmark indicated Copper Mill as its origin. Troy must have sent it before leaving for Chattanooga the day before.

  “What a nice gesture.” Kate sighed in relief. She’d been right about him all along.

  I was a stranger, and you welcomed me; I was hungry and you fed me. The familiar Bible verse came to mind. Kate smiled and glanced upward. “That’s what life is all about, isn’t it, Lord? Helping people, being your hands and feet?”

  And speaking of helping, Kate wondered again what she should do about Claire. What if no one claimed her? What did one do with a lost adult?

  She shook her head to dislodge her rising concern. You’re jumping to conclusions. You only found Claire a couple of hours ago, Kate reminded herself. Well, technically yesterday, but she hadn’t seemed as confused.

  Once again Kate prayed that Claire’s family would contact the authorities. Kate decided then and there that the only way to stop worrying about Claire was to bake. She’d bake some bread and cookies and maybe try the recipe for roasted tomato-basil soup she’d found in a magazine.

  Chapter Eight

  The aromas filling the parsonage that Tuesday afternoon could only be described as decadent. The tomato-basil soup with its roasted veggies—various peppers, garlic, onions, and vine-ripened tomatoes—simmered on the stove. Kate had also decided to bake a couple loaves of rosemary, garlic, and cheese focaccia bread. Dough for oatmeal chocolate chip cookies waited in the refrigerator. Baking always made problems seem a bit easier to tackle and the situation with Claire was no different.

  She would leave Claire in God’s hands and trust him to provide the answers.

  Taking the two round loaves of focaccia out of the oven, Kate inhaled deeply. She turned the golden brown loaves over and released them from their pans, flipped them upright, and spread garlic butter over the top. Naturally, she had to taste.

  Kate buttered a small piece, and for the next few minutes experienced the ecstasy of warm homemade bread. Bread like this reminded her of her childhood and Gran’s house. She’d inherited both her grandmother’s love for food and her love for cooking.

  She’d just taken the last scrumptious bite when the phone rang. Kate offered a muffled “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Hanlon?”

  She managed to swallow. “Hi, Skip. How are you?”

  “Good. Say, we got a call from Claire’s daughter. Said she got home, and her mother was missing. I’m sending her over to your place.”

  Kate blew out a sigh of relief. “That’s great. Thanks so much.”

  “Glad I could help.”

  Kate celebrated with another piece of bread. While waiting for Ellen to arrive, Kate took out the cookie dough and placed heaping teaspoons of dough on a cookie sheet and set it in the oven. She then took Claire’s cape outdoors and brushed the caked dirt off as best she could. Judging from the label and condition, she suspected the cape was still worth a fair amount of money.

  AT 4:45, THE DOORBELL RANG. The woman at the door was about Kate’s age, nicely dressed in a pair of tan slacks and a brown knit top. Her hazel eyes had an anxious look about them.

  Wanting to put her at ease, Kate greeted her with an outstretched hand. “I’m Kate Hanlon. You must be Ellen.”

  After a limp handshake, she said, “Yes. I...I don’t know what to say. Mother has never wandered off like this before. I’m so sorry for your trouble.” Her face was pinched and drawn.

  “No trouble at all.” Kate took a step back and beckoned Ellen inside. “Come on in. There’s fresh coffee and cookies.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I should. I need to be getting back, and mother must be tired.” Ellen glanced around the room. “Uh...where is she?”

  “Taking a nap. Actually she’s been sleeping for a couple of hours.” Kate looked back at Ellen as she went into the kitchen. “Have a seat anywhere. Are you sure I can’t get you some coffee or tea?”

  “Coffee’s fine.” She hesitated a moment as if accepting her fate and then came inside and lowered herself onto the sofa. She glanced at the door as if making sure she had a way of escape. She directed her gaze back to Kate. “I appreciate you taking care of her. How did you find her?”

  “Well, yesterday she was walking along the road as I was leaving. I almost ran into her. Fortunately she seemed okay. She told me she was having tea at the Bristol.”

  Ellen raked one hand through her hair. “Oh no. I didn’t know she’d gone out yesterday.”

  “Today she showed up just outside my studio window at the back of the house.” Kate gave her a brief recap. “She scared me half to death.”

  Kate went on to tell Ellen about her morning with Claire. “Some of the things she shared were...well, let’s just say, implausible.”

  Ellen frowned. “Mother seems to be getting more confused lately. It may be a medication problem. I need to get her in to see a doctor.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.” Kate brought her coffee in a large rose mug and placed a small plate of cookies on the end table. “Did you want cream or sugar?”

  “Black is fine.” Ellen leaned back in the chair, breathing in the aroma before taking a sip. “This is very good coffee.”

  “Thanks.”

  An awkward silence ensued. Then they both spoke at once.

  Ellen dipped her head. “I’m sorry.”

  Kate smiled. “No, that’s okay. What were you going to say?”

  “I feel terrible that you e
nded up caring for my mother.” Ellen still sounded anxious.

  Hoping to put her at ease, Kate said, “Please. No more apologies. I like her. But I did want to ask you about some of the things she said.”

  Ellen stiffened. “Oh...like what?”

  “She introduced herself as the countess and seemed surprised I didn’t know her. Is she really married to an earl?”

  “Oh dear.” Ellen broke into a smile for the first time since she’d come. “Mother was born in England in 1923 to the Count and Countess of Eltonborough.”

  “Seriously?” Kate grinned. That accounted for the British accent.

  “Yes. She loved her life in England and was engaged to be married—an arranged marriage. But during the Second World War, an American soldier, my father, was assigned to stay at the estate; they used it as a strategic command headquarters to plan for the Normandy landing. He wasn’t there long, just long enough to win my mother’s heart.”

  Kate sighed. “That’s so romantic.”

  “I’ve always loved the story.” Ellen’s harsh features disappeared. “Mother has it all written down in a journal. Maybe one of these days I’ll be able to write her story.”

  “What a good idea. You mean like a memoir?”

  Ellen nodded. “After the war he came back for her, they married, and he brought her to the US. He always called her Countess.”

  “That explains a lot.” Kate leaned forward. “When I asked her where she lived, she said you had a large estate with a stable and—”

  “No.” Ellen interrupted. The stern look reappeared. “She’s remembering her family estate in England. We had a nice home but had to leave after...”

  When Ellen didn’t finish, Kate asked, “Do you live close by?”

  “Not far.” Ellen pressed her lips together. “We haven’t been in the area long.”

  Kate wondered about Ellen’s reluctance to answer. Maybe I’m being too friendly, asking too many questions. “I apologize for my curiosity. I don’t mean to be nosy. It’s just that I’ve never met anyone like Claire before. And my curiosity gets away from me sometimes.”