by Debbie Mason
As Arianna got up to make her first pot of coffee in months, there was a flash of yellow light in the back windows that was immediately followed by a clap of thunder. She wondered if that was what had woken her or if it was the sound of teeming rain. Whatever it had been, she was glad of it when she noted the time on the stove. It was ten o’clock.
She looked around the kitchen with a frown. Glamma usually had a cup of tea before bed. She’d had two political events today. A late-afternoon tea at the seniors residence and a potluck dinner with the bridge club, which would be followed by a game of cards. Maybe they were running late.
Arianna decided to make tea instead of coffee. That way it would be ready when her grandmother came home. Waiting for the water to boil, she leaned against the counter, listening to the rain slash against the windowpane. She shivered, glad to be inside where it was warm. Though the house wasn’t as warm as she liked. If she had her way, it would stay at seventy-five. Glamma preferred sixty-nine. Since her grandmother was up and about more than Arianna, she always won.
Not tonight though. She could warm up the house a bit before Glamma came home. Arianna walked to the thermostat on the wall beside the entryway table, noting her grandmother’s umbrella leaning against the front hall closet door. Once she’d adjusted the temperature a few degrees, she peeked out the glass panel beside the door. Surely Mrs. Ranger would drop Glamma off at the front gate.
That’s odd, Arianna thought as she pressed her face against the windowpane, squinting through the gloom and rain. It looked like Mrs. Ranger’s car was parked in her driveway. Maybe they’d decided to have a cup of tea together before calling it a night.
At the whistling of the kettle, Arianna walked back to the kitchen. Her stomach dipped a little as she carefully removed the kettle from the gas stove and saw the open flame. She gave herself a mental pat on the back when her breathing remained even and her hand didn’t shake. It was a small victory. Being around a flame of any kind or even extreme heat or smoke had the power to send her into a full-blown panic attack. The same kind her sister Serena had.
Arianna found it difficult to think of her sister without tearing up. She missed her, sometimes desperately. Serena had been more than just a sister. She’d been her best friend, and she’d left Arianna without a backward glance. She should be used to it by now. People always left her. The only one who’d stuck around was her grandmother.
Arianna glanced at the clock on the stove, wondering if Mrs. Ranger would think her rude for calling this late. Probably not. They all apparently believed she was not only penniless and starving, she was also helpless. Admittedly, she hadn’t done much to prove them wrong. Truth be told, she considered herself helpless and penniless too. But at that moment, she didn’t really care what anyone said about her, because the more she thought about Glamma being out this late, the more she didn’t like it.
She probably had Connor to thank for the anxious knot in her chest. He hadn’t done a very good job hiding the fact that he believed her grandmother’s memory lapses were more serious than Arianna wanted to see. He’d let it go for one reason and one reason only: He didn’t think she could handle the thought of Glamma losing her mind without losing hers. He was right.
Arianna looked up Mrs. Ranger’s number on the piece of paper tacked on the wall beside the phone, relieved to find their neighbor had been programmed in with a number. Everything was a struggle with only one hand. She put the receiver between her shoulder and ear and pressed six.
With every unanswered ring, the knot in Arianna’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Mrs. Ranger,” she said as soon as the phone picked up.
“Arianna dear, is that you?” the older woman asked, sounding as if she’d just woken up.
Arianna felt like she might hyperventilate. “Yes, it’s me. I was wondering if Glamma was with you.” Please, please let her be there.
“No. I dropped her off an hour ago.” She could hear a creak and a faint rustling as if Mrs. Ranger had just sat up in bed. “Have you checked her bedroom, dear?”
“I’ll go check right now,” she said, her heart racing.
“You do that. I’ll stay on the line.”
“Thank you.” She dropped the phone and ran to her grandmother’s bedroom, praying as she flipped on the light. At the sight of the neatly made bed, a panicked sound built in Arianna’s throat. She didn’t know how her legs carried her back to the kitchen.
“She’s not here, Mrs. Ranger,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“All right. Don’t panic. It hasn’t been all that long. Check the backyard and the shed, dear. The neighbors on either side too. While you’re doing that, I’ll call everyone we know.”
“Okay. I’ll do that. I’ll do that right now.” She hung up the phone. The receiver fell off, and she returned it to the cradle. It fell off again. She picked it up, slamming it into the cradle again and again. “Stop it!” she yelled at herself. “Just stop it and find her.”
But she didn’t find her in the backyard or in the shed or in the backyards or sheds of the neighbors on either side of them. A porch light flipped on as she got down on her knees to search beneath Mr. Simpson’s hedges.
“Hey there. What are you about?”
She pulled her head from under the bush. “It’s Glamma, Mr. Simpson. I can’t find her. She’s missing.” Her voice caught on a sob as the panic settled deep.
“Give us a minute. Me and the missus will be out to help you look.”
She was about to force a thank-you from between her trembling lips when she heard her name being called from the sidewalk.
“Did you find her?” she yelled back, scrambling to her feet, her sneakers sliding on the muddy grass. She knew the answer as soon as she reached the sidewalk. Several of their neighbors were congregated around Mrs. Ranger, all of them looking concerned.
“I’m sorry, dear. Not yet. But we’re organizing a search party. Here.” She handed her a cell phone. “I called Connor.”
“Irene, go in and get the child a rain jacket and boots. Her lips are blue, and she’s shivering,” Mr. Simpson said, holding an umbrella over Arianna’s head.
“I’m okay, thanks,” she said, taking the phone from Mrs. Ranger. “Connor.”
“You’re not okay. And you won’t do your grandmother any good if you come down with pneumonia. Now, go get dry and get some rain gear on. I should be there in forty-five minutes.”
“You’re coming?” She clenched her teeth to hold back a sob.
“Do you really even have to ask?”
“It’s my fault. I fell asleep. If I had—”
“Don’t, okay? Jenna should be at your place in a few minutes with Michael and Shay. My cousins and Uncle Colin are also on their way.” His uncle was the fire chief. “We’ll find her, honey.”
But half an hour later, they still hadn’t found her. Their kitchen had been transformed into command central. Typically search and rescue and the police wouldn’t be involved until a person had been missing twenty-four hours. But the Gallaghers were well connected and pulled in favors. Even if they hadn’t, Arianna had a feeling search and rescue and the police wouldn’t have waited the obligatory twenty-fours, not when the senior missing was believed to have dementia.
Every time she heard the words dementia or Alzheimer’s, she cringed. It seemed like she was the only one in town who hadn’t realized how bad her grandmother was. She’d been oblivious, so caught up in her grief and anger she hadn’t noticed what was happening right before her very eyes. But that wasn’t really true. A part of her had seen it; she just didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t. If she did, that meant she’d lose her grandmother, too.
“I have to go look for her, Jenna. I can’t stand around doing nothing.”
It wasn’t like she’d been standing around for long, really. It had taken her a half hour to get changed, remove the wet compression bandage, and carefully dry her arm before replacing it with another bandage. Her knees went w
eak every time she looked at her ruined arm and hand. At least the black compression garment she wore for twenty-three hours a day covered everything from her underarm to her fingertips. She had to wear it for the next year, maybe longer. It was meant to keep the scars from becoming thick and ropy, even uglier than they already were.
Her sister Jenna stroked her good arm, regaining her attention. She was seven years younger than Arianna, with big, earnest green eyes and shoulder-length auburn hair caught up in a messy ponytail. She hadn’t taken the time to get dressed. She wore a yellow raincoat over her pajamas.
“I know you want to help, but there’s at least a hundred people searching, with more arriving every minute,” Jenna said, continuing to stroke Arianna’s arm as though recognizing the panic she struggled to contain. “Please stay here. I’m worried about you. You’re not completely recovered. You’ve already gotten soaked once. Your hair’s still wet.”
Blow-drying her hair was exhausting, not to mention a waste of time when she was just going to get it wet again. “Glamma’s eighty. She’s been out there in the dark, in the rain, for close to two hours.” Feeling like curling in upon herself as the what ifs crowded her brain, Arianna wrapped her arm around her waist. It didn’t help. “What if she went down to the docks? What if—”
“Stop torturing yourself. Mrs. Ranger said it wasn’t raining when she dropped off Helen. Maybe she went for a walk and got caught in the rain. She probably found somewhere dry to wait out the storm. Even if your grandmother is having some memory problems, she’s a smart, resourceful woman.”
“She is, and she does like to walk at night. Maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s what happened.” Looking around the packed kitchen, she had to cling to hope. Conversation hummed as members from the police and the fire department coordinated the search. People were on phones checking in with friends and family, asking them to be on the lookout for her grandmother, while others looked at a map that covered the kitchen table. “It’s too warm in here. I can’t take the noise. Would you mind bringing me a sandwich and a cup of tea in the solarium?”
“No. Of course not. Go sit. I’ll be right there.”
“Thank you.” She placed her hand over her sister’s and gave it a gentle squeeze, feeling guilty for what she planned to do. She didn’t have a choice. If she didn’t do something, the fear she could barely keep at bay would overtake her. “I’m glad you’re here. I needed you tonight.” It was the truth, and something she wanted her sister to know, especially after learning from Connor that Glamma had been keeping Jenna away. All her baby sister had ever wanted from Arianna and Serena was their love. For far too long, for silly reasons, they’d withheld it. Especially her. “I’m going to miss you when you move to DC.” Jenna was leaving in the beginning of November to be with Logan.
Her sister gave her a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t know if I’m going. We’ll talk about it another day.”
Selfishly, she wanted her to stay. But Jenna was right. This wasn’t the time to talk about it. Arianna nodded, attempted a smile, and then slipped out of the kitchen. With a glance over her shoulder, she made sure Jenna was heading for the older women doling out sandwiches at the island. Confident her sister would be occupied for at least five minutes, Arianna hurried to the front hall.
She opened the closet door, reached inside for two rain jackets, one for her and one for her grandmother, and then slipped on a pair of Glamma’s gardening boots. To avoid getting caught, she planned to dress outside, so she tossed the rain jackets over her shoulder. Spotting an abandoned flashlight on the entryway table, she picked it up and stuck it between her teeth before opening the front door.
Doing her best to stay under the overhang and out of the rain, she placed the jackets and flashlight on the porch. Jenna was right; she couldn’t afford to catch a chill. She had to stay as dry as possible, which meant she had to get rid of her sling. Other than to shower, she never took it off. Intellectually, she knew she didn’t need the sling. It had become something of a security blanket, protecting her as much as her damaged arm.
Without her grandmother’s help, she’d never get it untied, so she bowed her head, reaching back to curl her fingers around the knot. She tugged, but it didn’t fit over her head. She tried to loosen the knot. With only one hand and her teeth, it was useless, and she didn’t have time to waste. Bending her head once again, she tugged and pulled on the fabric, ripping out strands of hair as she did. Her neck hurt, and her arm cramped. She was sweating from the exertion, angry, frustrated tears welling in her eyes. She cursed Lorenzo and the sentimentality that had sent her back to her office that night. Then, with one last vicious yank, she pulled the fabric over her head. She dropped the sling on the porch, physically exhausted.
She stared down at the raincoats, not sure she had the energy to put them on, raising her gaze when lightning crackled and thunder boomed in the distance. Fog rolled up the road, ominous and eerie. She thought of her grandmother out there alone and reached for the jacket. Gritting her teeth, she pulled on one raincoat and then the other. She mostly used her good arm; her damaged arm hung lifeless at her side. Still, she’d moved it.
From within the house, someone called her name.
Grabbing the flashlight, she ran down the path and opened the front gate. She’d made it to the end of the street before Jenna called for her through the open door. Arianna was about to yell that she was fine when the flashlight she’d been sweeping over a front yard illuminated one of Daniel Gallagher’s campaign signs. A sign that had been defaced with red spray paint.
The handsome older man now sported devil horns, a handlebar mustache, and a goatee in a vibrant shade of blood-red. Her grandmother often referred to the Gallagher men as blue-eyed devils, Arianna thought, feeling a surge of hope at what she prayed was her first clue to Helen’s whereabouts. The house was only around the block from theirs, so she knew the yard had been searched, but she checked again. Deflated when she didn’t find any sign of her grandmother, she continued along the sidewalk.
Four houses down, her spirits lifted. There was another defaced sign. Positive she was onto something, Arianna hunted for Daniel’s campaign signs, thinking of them as bread crumbs that would eventually lead to her grandmother. Whenever she found a vandalized sign, she carefully checked the front and backyard, and when she didn’t find her, she moved on to the next sign.
For every fifty of Daniel’s signs, her grandmother was lucky to have one. Arianna felt sad on her behalf, guilty too. She’d played no part in her grandmother’s campaign. In the beginning, she supposed she had an excuse. But she didn’t for the past few weeks. Her flashlight swept over another front yard and another sign. There was a difference with this one—horns but no mustache or goatee. A white can with splotches of red gleamed at the base of the sign. Arianna’s heart thudded with hope. She called to her grandmother as she raced to the back of the house, searching behind and under bushes, in a playhouse, in and around a shed.
She wasn’t there, and there would be no more clues to follow. In desperation, Arianna ran around the house to the front door and knocked. She didn’t know where else to look, what else to do. She was terrified that her worst fears, the ones she didn’t dare acknowledge, would come true.
A man opened the door, clearly unhappy that a soaking-wet woman was pounding on his door in the middle of the night. “I’m sorry to wake you. My eighty-year-old grandmother has been missing for hours, and I think she might have been in your yard. Did you see her? Maybe bring her inside to get dry?” She said the last on a hopeful note.
“I saw her all right. She was spray-painting my sign. Told her I’d call the cops if she didn’t stop.”
“Thank God. Where is she?” She went on her tiptoes to look past him.
“Ya think I’d let some old lady who was defacing signs into my house? What do you take me for, lady? A moron?”
“No. You’re not a moron. You’re a sorry excuse for a human being. Don’t you have any
decency? She’s eighty, and she has . . . She has dementia, and she’s out there all alone in the rain because you couldn’t show her some compassion.”
“If the old lady has dementia, you shoulda put her in a home. Don’t come around here blaming me because you lost your grandma. Now get out of here before I call the cops.” He slammed the door in her face.
Arianna briefly closed her eyes. She’d been so caught up in her own pity party that she hadn’t taken care of the only person who’d loved her enough to stick around.
“Where are you, Glamma? I know you’re out here somewhere,” she said, her throat raw from yelling Helen’s name earlier. She shivered, and her teeth began to chatter. Now that she’d reached a dead end in her search, the adrenaline rush that had kept her from feeling the cold had faded.
Wrapping an arm around her waist in an effort to contain the body-racking shivers, she crossed the man’s yard. She might not have found her grandmother, but she had been on the right track. No one knew Helen Fairchild better than she did. In many ways, she was more like her grandmother than she was like her mother. Beverly often said the same.
Arianna didn’t want to think about her mother now. After finding out what she’d done, Arianna couldn’t be in the same room with her. Still, as much as she wanted nothing to do with her mother, she would call her if she thought she could help find Glamma. But if Arianna couldn’t think where her grandmother would have gone, her mother wouldn’t have a clue. Arianna had barely finished the thought when it came to her: Tie the Knot.
If her grandmother had gotten herself turned around and her mind was turned around too, she’d head for the shop on Main Street. In her place, Arianna would do the same. Tie the Knot had been their passion, their joy. It was one of the reasons her grandmother was running for mayor.
Daniel Gallagher planned to bulldoze the remains of Tie the Knot and the other shops and allow a modern, eight-story-high office building to be built in place of the businesses they’d lost. Her grandmother wanted to rebuild the bridal shop. So it stood to reason that while spray-painting Daniel Gallagher’s signs, she would have been thinking about Tie the Knot. And if dementia had stolen her present memories but had left the past intact, she’d remember the shop on Main Street. It had been her home as well as her business for decades.
