by Pamela Tracy
“What?”
“Ack, nothing, just talking to myself.” Annie started to open the door, intent on exiting, but Carolyn laughed and pushed at the dog.
“Rambo is nothing but a big baby. He thinks you must be here to make friends with him. Right, Rambo?”
Rambo let out a low-pitched woof. Annie assumed it meant agreement.
Gingerly settling into what space remained, Annie had to admit that maybe it was a good thing that man had her stuff. There certainly wasn’t any room for it in this vehicle. Besides one oversized dog, boxes of samples were crammed in the backseat. Unfortunately, not all the samples were contained. Annie carefully placed tiny nail polish bottles on the dashboard.
“You’re certainly out and about early,” Carolyn observed. “When did you get into town?”
“Just this morning. I rented a car in Kansas City yesterday, but it broke down in the middle of a cornfield.”
“Oh, what happened?” Carolyn managed to look distraught and intrigued at the same time. “How did you get this far?”
“The local veterinarian picked me up. My rental is out of gas back near the Hickses’ place.”
“Dr. Joe picked you up. Wonder why he didn’t take you to his dad?”
Annie decided not to answer that one. Carolyn didn’t seem to mind answering it herself. “He must have had another call. You were at the Hickses’ place, huh? That’s a distance. How’d you wind up clear out there?”
“I blame my GPS.”
“I can’t even find my GPS,” Carolyn confided cheerfully. “It’s somewhere in the car. It fell off the windshield and I’ve just not bothered to find it. I never leave Bonner Springs anyhow. Well, don’t worry. If Dr. Joe knows where your car is, he’ll make sure it gets to his dad’s place. Both those men know how to fix little problems.”
Annie didn’t mention that those men were part of a big problem. One she needed to fix.
Carolyn Mayhew’s Volkswagen either didn’t do over forty or Carolyn Mayhew wasn’t willing to go over forty. Annie’s hand tapped an impatient beat against the side of the door.
Carolyn took the opportunity to suggest a shade of eye shadow Annie should wear. Then she segued into the importance of the right foundation. She didn’t seem to require responses from her captive audience. But after a few beauty tips, she must have noticed her passenger didn’t even wear makeup and spent the rest of the short drive talking about the Kelly family.
Max was a retired minister and a widower. He lived in a Victorian house that his father, also a minister, had inherited from his father. Carolyn wasn’t sure about the father before that.
Joe, now, was a surprise. Dr. Joe was an only son who didn’t choose the ministry. Nope, he was a vet, and not a girlfriend in sight. That he’d dated Carolyn’s daughter for only a short time was a surprise, Carolyn confided, but said daughter was happily married now—a farmer’s wife—with grandchild number two on the way.
Carolyn didn’t have time to share any more. Annie was delivered right to the door of a big yellow Victorian house, and the Volkswagen puttered away.
The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The front door opened, and her mom stepped out and bent down to retrieve a newspaper.
As if she belonged. As if she lived in the house.
When she looked up and saw Annie, instead of smiling, Annie’s mother frowned.
“Mom?”
Her mother straightened, shook her head as if in wonder, and then, finally, the edges of her lips turned up. “Okay, you found me. When the minister relayed your message, I knew it was only a matter of time. Truly, though, I expected a phone call. Why’d you come all this way?”
“We’ve called a dozen times, Mom. We’ve been worried sick. You’re not answering your phone. You’re not responding to text messages.”
Willa had the grace to look guilty. “I need to charge it. I keep forgetting. I’ve been using Max’s.”
“Then you should have called us on his.”
“I planned to but wanted to wait until I had something to share besides a location.”
“All we wanted,” Annie said, trying not to sound angry, “was the location. Mom, you scared us to death. Why didn’t you at least leave a note, send an e-mail, something?”
“I started to, but I couldn’t get the words right. I had an opportunity with the new business and I wanted to take it. I knew you girls wouldn’t understand.”
“You got that right. We were so worried.”
“Days go by without phone calls from any of my daughters,” her mom said evenly. “Life gets hectic. I know that. And, yes, I know, you text me, but I’m not glued to my phone, and that’s not hearing your voice.”
Annie took a breath. Her mother told the truth. Annie got busy, sent a quick text because it was less time-consuming than calling. Her sisters were the same.
“I should have called,” Mom said gently.
“It would have helped. I found the ad in the Bonner Springs newspaper and then we managed to get a hold of one of the armchair detectives. Wendy. She said you were in Sunflower, though.”
Her mother turned and Annie followed her through the front door into a spacious living room. A braided rug lapped against a faded blue couch. The furniture looked well-used, well-loved, and sturdy. A faint odor of lemon reminded Annie of days spent helping her mother clean.
“Wendy’s starting to forget things. I’m staying with Margaret—that’s Max’s sister, right next door. I’m sure she’ll make room for you. I’ll take you over and introduce you and—”
“Mom, I didn’t come to stay. I came to take you home. And, if you’re staying with Margaret, why are you over here this early?”
Her mother didn’t even blink. “I’m working. Today I’m tearing apart the attic. I intend for my first case to be a success. So, did you bring any suitcases?”
“Oh man.” Could this day get any worse? Annie could only shake her head and moan, “I left them in his car.”
“Whose car?”
Annie ran her hand along the curve of the knob at the staircase’s base, forcing herself not to ask why her mother already acted like this was her home. “The vet’s. The son of the man you’re—you’re working for. We had a slight misunderstanding about…” Annie wasn’t sure exactly what to say. The only thing she was sure about was that she was tired, dirty, and seriously out of her element. “I imagine he’ll turn up any minute now.”
“Okay, honey. Why don’t you freshen up? The bathroom’s at the top of the stairs. It looks like you slept in your clothes.” Mom peered closer. “And they’re covered in animal hair. Hurry, Max, Margaret, and I are about to have breakfast. He’ll be thrilled to meet you. He’s heard all about my girls.”
“Who is this guy, Mom? What are you doing here? This is Kansas! Why didn’t he hire someone local? I can’t believe you left without even telling us. Why?”
“Why? Because of the attitude you’re showing now. You girls forget that besides being your mother, I’m also an adult, fully capable of making my own decisions. This is business, like you have your business. I’m just starting my career a little later in life. I don’t want you interfering or poking fun at it, and if that means I have to do my first real assignment three states away, then so be it. Now behave, or you can just go home.”
Before Annie could utter a surprised “Mom,” she disappeared down the hall.
Annie thought about following, but truthfully, since handcuffs and kidnapping were out of the question, what was she to do? Besides, right now all she wanted was a restroom, a clean washrag, a lint brush, some soap, and two minutes with a toothbrush.
Traipsing up the stairs, Annie took in her surroundings. No wonder her mother already felt at home here. Max Kelly was as big a packrat as her mother. Pictures were on every wall, and knick-knacks were in abundance.
The first door Annie opened at the top of the stairs was not a bathroom. It had obviously housed a boy at one time. There was still a border around the ceiling fe
aturing different sports figures. The shelves underneath boasted trophies as well as photographs—some professional, some not. The walls were painted hunter green. The oak floor was polished to a shine.
The next door revealed the small bathroom. The carpeting was a bland brown that needed replacing. This room was in dire need of a makeover. A quick look in the mirror showed Annie that she, too, could use one. First, there was the punk hair. Not in color, mind you, thought Annie, but there were rock stars who paid good money to have the left half of their hair erupt at such an impossible angle like hers did now.
“Annie, are you about done? Your clothes are here.”
Quickly, she splashed water on her face, brushed her teeth with finger efficiency, and hurried downstairs.
She heard his voice before she saw him.
The front door was open. Her suitcases and backpack were just inside, and Joe Kelly was carrying her jewelry bag up the front walk.
Her mother and Joe eyed each other warily.
For a moment, Annie didn’t know who to feel more sorry for. He set the bag in the lap of an easy chair and scowled at her. “What’s in there? It weighs a ton.”
He made the living room look smaller somehow. He was a bear of a man, with shaggy brown hair, impressive biceps, and deep brown eyes. Annie imagined an unruly boy leaving muddy footprints on the faded carpeting as he ran through the room with a football or baseball bat.
“I make jewelry,” she explained, “and I’m pretty good at it. I have some commissioned items that I need to complete, so I brought supplies with me.”
He made a noise that reminded her of an annoyed horse, perfect coming from a veterinarian.
The dog didn’t share Joe’s distaste for the Jamison women. Jacko, tail wagging, leaned contently against Annie’s leg.
Joe gave Annie a steely look, snapped his fingers at the dog, and headed for his truck. Obviously, conversation was not on his list of things to do today. The dog gave Annie an apologetic look and followed his master.
“Joe didn’t stick around?” The deep voice belonged to a man tall enough to have played basketball against Michael Jordan. Annie saw where Joe got his impressive bicep genes. Thick silver hair fell in waves behind this man’s ears. Glasses, similar to Benjamin Franklin’s, made this man almost too darling to dislike.
“He had an early morning call,” Annie said. “At the Hickses’ place.”
The man raised an eyebrow, clearly curious how Annie could know so much.
“You must be Annie, Willa’s middle girl. She’s shown me your picture. I’m Max Kelly. Pleased to meet you.”
“Pleased to meet you, too,” Annie responded automatically, reminding herself that she did not return the pleasure. This must be where Joe got his height. Twinkling eyes ran in the family, too. Although Joe’s too easily went from appreciation to ire. Well, maybe Joe had something to be annoyed about. Again, Annie noticed that her mom looked entirely too comfortable in Max Kelly’s home.
“Mom, are you okay?” Annie dogged her mother’s and Max’s steps into the kitchen. She looked okay. She looked better than okay. She didn’t wear the gauze and loose-fitting tops from a few weeks ago. She was back to a simple shirt and pair of jeans.
“I’m fine. Sit down, dear.” Mom pulled out a chair and said to Max, “Margaret says eat without her. She’s tidying up the guest room.”
It took all of Annie’s willpower to sit across from the congenial man at the breakfast table and not warm up to his personality. He talked about his son and the veterinarian practice he’d started because his mother loved animals and because of a tadpole experiment in third grade. Max downplayed his time as a minister and instead highlighted his current job at a local museum. He was only a volunteer, he stressed, but the history of the town offered enough so that he discovered something new every week. “Our town started out being called Four Houses,” he shared. “Then it changed to Tiblow.”
He didn’t sound like a nut.
Sitting in the middle of Bonner Springs, Kansas, on a Monday morning and trying to figure out the best way to put her mother in a straitjacket was too weird to believe. There was not a thing she could do now. It was time to get to know the enemy. Annie pointed to the Blue Willow plates on a ledge that spanned the perimeter of the kitchen. “You have a great house.”
“My late wife was quite a decorator.”
“How long has she been gone?”
“Four years. I miss her every day.”
Just a few years longer than Annie’s dad.
“Why did you bring my mother here?”
“Annie, I told you, it’s business and I—”
“No secret,” Max interrupted. “We’re looking for a few coins I lost.”
“And you’ve lost them recently?” Annie pushed the last of her pancakes away.
“No, the last time I saw them was when Joe was in high school.”
Uninvited interest spread through Annie. Just how old was the son? The great-looking son who dumped me in front of a bed-and-breakfast to be picked up by a chattering granny with too much time on her hands.
“How long ago was that?”
“Let’s see. Joe graduated high school ten years ago.”
Okay, that put Joe somewhere in his late twenties. A little older than most of the guys Annie dated. Wait! Where were these thoughts coming from? The Kelly men were part of the problem. The dad’s charm had gotten past Willa’s defenses. A mother who refused to allow her daughters out after midnight, who sent their father to find them if she thought they’d gotten themselves in trouble, and who believed that any movie her daughters thought worth seeing, she’d be seeing, had traveled three states to help a strange man.
Annie squirmed and wished like anything that her sisters were there. What made them think she could rationalize with her mother and get everything back to normal? Fatigue, as palpable as a blanket, urged Annie back toward the coffee cup in front of her.
After a scalding, numbing, long drink, she glanced around the kitchen and wondered how many nooks and crannies the house had and immediately knew. Way too many. Another shot of coffee failed to diminish the overwhelming reality of just how many hiding places were in this house. She swallowed before asking, “So, how did you lose these coins?”
“I didn’t. Joe was showing them to a friend, and somehow three of them disappeared.” Max gave a sad smile. “We were hosting the church’s youth group that night. He and his best friend went into my office. Kyle Hicks collected coins, too. Joe just wanted to show off my Stellas.”
At Annie’s blank look, Max explained. “Stellas are a coin issued in 1880. They feature a coiled hair type designed by George T. Morgan. They’re valued at almost fourteen thousand dollars apiece. Willa’s going to help me find them.”
“Maybe Kyle would be better at the job.”
Max shook his head, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Kyle doesn’t know what happened to them, and he no longer lives in these parts.” He started clearing the table, still talking. “So, Annie, how long will you be staying?”
Mom frowned at Annie, clearly communicating how displeased she’d be if Annie mentioned that the Jamison daughters thought their mother was nuts or that they thought they could dictate how long she, the mother, stayed.
“I’ll be here until I’m sure Mom is all right.”
“I’m fine, dear.”
“But, Mom, there are only strangers here. This is crazy.”
“Strangers who are quickly becoming friends. And starting a business from scratch, like our Armchair Detectives or your OhSoClean, is not crazy, as you well know.”
There was a big difference between cleaning people’s houses and traveling three states to look for lost coins. And what was with friends who came out of nowhere? Annie suddenly felt alone and vulnerable. Staring at her mother, who looked perfectly comfortable, perfectly content, and perfectly at home, Annie knew that in order to get her mother back to Arizona before Mr. Museum Man became Mr. Yes Dear, she needed to become
a big part of the “we” in We Find Lost Things.
Chapter Five
Annie followed her mother on a well-worn path from Max’s house to the house right next door. It wasn’t nearly as big and definitely wasn’t Victorian. It was small, painted white, and had a half porch. The yard was a riot of flowers in all colors, sizes, and shapes. Annie knew if not for her mother’s situation, she’d like this Margaret person.
Willa knocked on the door and then pushed it open, walking in and hollering, “Margaret. It’s Willa. I have my daughter with me.”
Annie followed her mother into a living room. The floor looked to be hard pine, aged to a reddish hue, well taken care of, and beautiful. Hand-knotted rugs were placed in areas of high traffic. A comfortable-looking beige couch was against one wall, flanked by armchairs that matched the red of the pine floor. A television dominated the room.
A woman who looked like Max, only more compact, came into the room. “I saw Carolyn dropping someone off and figured it might be one of your daughters.”
Unlike Max, Margaret didn’t look 100 percent inviting. She looked wary.
“This is my middle daughter, Annie.”
“The one who makes jewelry, has her own business, and lives to work.” It wasn’t a question, it was more a statement.
Annie frowned.
Her mother managed to look a little guilty at the description, but not guilty enough to appease Annie.
“Really,” Annie protested, “I can stay at a motel or find a bed-and-breakfast. I don’t mean to impose.”
“I have the room,” Margaret said. “Besides, I’m finding this whole business fascinating.”
“Fascinating?” Annie said. “You’re kidding.”
Margaret reached for one of Annie’s bags. It felt surreal to surrender it. Annie felt like taking charge, convincing her mother that it was time to stop playing this game and come home, and yet, instead of fixing the problem, she was being drawn into a game she didn’t know the rules to and had no hope of winning.
* * * * *
It was after seven when Joe finally trudged up the stairs to his living quarters. He checked Jacko’s food and water, then showered and changed. A predawn adventure, spent with animals and a strange woman who needed rescuing, did not bode well for clothes. Finally, he grabbed a bag of chips from the top of the refrigerator and headed back downstairs with Jacko at his heels.
