by Rula Sinara
“They do? When did you smell a cow’s breath?”
“Your great-grandparents had a farm. You know that.”
She nodded. “I guess I do.” That was long before her time.
Her father gave a short laugh, though nothing was funny. “I don’t know about ghost cows, of course. Sure it wasn’t a Newfoundland?”
She pictured a large dog in her mind. Which reminded her of something.
“But that’s not why I came in here to talk to you.” Her father interrupted her thoughts, reaching behind him to close her office door. “We had a spat the last time we spoke. I wanted you to know I’m okay about it.”
Good. Although he should really ask her how she felt about it. She knew he wouldn’t.
“I’ve decided to give you free rein with Green Meadows.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“It’s your baby,” he told her decisively. “You need a project to learn from, before moving on to higher responsibilities.”
Which she was more and more not looking forward to.
“All these minor decisions about costs, problems like vandalism. They’re the kind of snags that teach you how to deal with larger issues, such as whether or not to sell shares or how to settle hostilities between board members.”
She said nothing. She was used to her father dealing with arguments by implying they were her fault but that he would forgive her. Then he just pushed on with his own agenda. Frankly, today she wasn’t in the mood to dispute anything with him.
“I’m so happy you can give me so much insight.” She tried to keep the sarcasm from her tone.
“That’s what a father is for.” He rose. “Guess I’ll go and make some calls. I’m sure you have plenty on your plate today already.”
“I surely do.”
At least he hadn’t contacted the police chief himself about the broken window last week as he’d threatened to do. He would have told her. And Alex would have mentioned it.
After taking a few deep breaths, she phoned Caleb’s cell.
“Hi, Grace.”
She loved the way he said her name, with such warm intonation.
“Have you recovered from the weekend?”
“Actually I found it rather peaceful in spite of falling tents.” She got to the point. “Have you talked to Angela about the mural?”
“She already has some ideas sketched out. Want to come by later and discuss them?”
“I’d love to.” She had thought about supplies. “She’ll need paint for a big mural and brushes, right?”
“I’ll pay for them. I can order supplies from the art store near the campus. Faculty get a discount there.”
He didn’t have to provide anything but she knew he would insist. “Is there a special paint for murals?”
“A type of acrylic. Paint that’s made for stone or walls. The girls weren’t using that before when they vandalized Green Meadows.”
“Is there a particular palette of colors?”
“Colors depend on the subject of the painting. I believe an artist can pretty much mix any tone or shade with the basics. But you should have some input. You know what would look nice with your decor out there.”
“I want it to be a personal expression. Real art.”
“That still gives you a lot of leeway. Why don’t you drop by the store and take a look at the paint? Pick up a color chart. We’ll discuss it and decide how much she needs when we talk about the mural this evening.”
“Sounds like fun.” And she’d have another chance to see him again.
“So you can drop by, say, at six or so?”
“Six is fine. But I don’t want to interrupt your dinner.”
“You won’t interrupt. In fact, I’m setting out a plate for you.”
He was cooking dinner. How sweet. “Can I bring something?”
“You don’t have to bring anything but yourself.”
“I insist.”
“Well, okay. How about dessert? I’ve never been good at baking.”
“All right. See you then.”
“I’ll be counting the minutes.”
She could hear the smile in his voice. They had such an easy rapport. Surely something would work out with Angela if they just put their minds to it.
* * *
GRACE LOCATED THE art store, a small purple-painted storefront that catered to the college’s needs. Half the place featured stationery and office supplies and the other half artist materials. Tables and shelves were packed with paints, inks, pencils and so many different kinds of papers and canvases, Grace hardly knew where to look. She headed for the counter up front, where the clerk was talking to another customer, a woman with the longest, most beautiful blue-black hair she’d ever seen.
“She already has a lot of stuff,” the customer was saying. “I just thought I’d see if I could find her something different, a little gift.”
“What kind of art does she do? Printmaking? Painting? Sculpture?”
“I think mainly painting and drawing.” The woman fingered a tin box of colors on the counter. “Wow, forty dollars for a set of pastel pencils. I didn’t know they were so expensive.”
“We stock the best professional quality here, not just for craft. The art students and instructors buy their supplies at our store.” The clerk, an older woman with gray hair, indicated a smaller cardboard box. “You could get her a regular set of colored pencils. Or some markers.”
“Hmm.” The woman didn’t seem sold on the idea.
When Grace came up to the counter, she saw that the other customer was Native American and her face was as beautiful as her hair. She widened her dark eyes slightly at Grace’s arrival but returned her smile.
“I guess I’ll think about it,” the woman told the clerk. “Maybe I’ll ask Angela what kind of present she’d prefer.”
Grace couldn’t help repeating the name, “Angela?”
“My daughter.”
“Angela Blackthorne?”
“You know her?”
Grace realized she was speaking to Lily, Angela’s mother. “I’m, uh, friends with her dad, Caleb.”
Lily nodded. “Right, she’s living with him. For the moment. I’m staying at the rez myself.”
After illegally helping herself to one of the Green Meadows town houses. Should Grace mention that? She thought better of it. No proof was found and Angela wasn’t going to come forward.
“I thought I’d get my Angel a special gift,” mused Lily.
“Uh, that’s nice.”
“I’m going to give it to her during our next mother-and-daughter time.” Lily laughed throatily. “Or I guess you could say family time. I’m so happy to be reunited with them.”
Grace merely stood there, feeling very uncomfortable. She hardly paid attention to Lily leaving, with a promise to the clerk to come back another time. When the woman then turned to Grace, asking her what she wanted, it took her a moment or two to remember.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
GRACE ARRIVED AT Caleb’s house a little late. Disconcerted by her encounter with Angela’s mother, she had to take some time to just sit in her car and chill out. Lily had indicated Angela was living with her father only “for now,” which didn’t mesh with what Caleb had said. More important, Lily had said she was getting back with “her family.” Did that mean Angela or did it mean Angela and Caleb? Grace couldn’t help fearing it was the latter.
Did Lily know who she was? Grace wondered. There was something about her tone that made her think the woman had been trying to upset her on purpose.
Whatever, Grace told herself, she needed to remember she had no hold on Caleb. They had made no agreement to be exclusive in dating. Just in case, for the future, perhaps she should keep a little distance betw
een herself and the man she found herself liking so much.
That thought sent her mood spiraling downward.
At the moment, she needed to pull herself together. She had to go through with the plans she had agreed to for Angela’s sake. Picking up the color chart for the special mural paint, she got out and walked up to the A-frame’s door.
Caleb opened it before she had the chance to knock. He grinned. “Hi, there. You look good, as usual.”
“Thanks.”
So did he, with his well-worn jeans, T-shirt and bare feet. He took hold of her shoulders and leaned forward to kiss her but she offered her cheek. An action that made him look at her oddly.
They sat down at the kitchen table with Angela. She merely nodded when Grace said hello and helped herself to spaghetti from a heaping bowl. There was also salad and some crusty garlic bread.
“Do you like my special tomato sauce?” Caleb asked Grace after they’d started eating.
“It’s delicious. It tastes like there’s a bit of heat in it.”
“I add cayenne pepper for some zing.” He passed the salad. “More?”
“No, thanks.” She was managing to eat, since she was hungry, but she didn’t feel completely at ease.
He put more salad on her plate anyway. He peered at her curiously. “Is everything okay?”
Pushing aside the extra salad she hadn’t wanted, Grace was a little annoyed that he hadn’t taken her at her word.
She decided she might as well tell him about the attack in the parking lot on Saturday night. She ended with, “So Mr. Cassidy was knocked flat by some kind of animal.”
“Weird.” Caleb looked surprised.
“The ghost cow,” Angela intoned with a little smile.
“How can you be so sure?” said Grace.
“What else could it be?”
“At least we know it wasn’t you.” Caleb considered a moment. “But how about Kiki?”
“She was up in the park with us, as you know.”
“As you told me.”
Angela’s eyes flashed. “It’s the truth, Dad.”
“The incident took place around midnight,” said Grace. “I don’t think Kiki could have been in our parking lot with her scooter. No one heard a motor of any kind.”
Since they were finished eating, Caleb picked up the dishes and stacked them in the sink, motioning for Grace to stay seated. “No help needed. You’re our guest.” He turned and leaned back against the counter. “Something has to be done about Kiki. I’ve called her number repeatedly but she’s not picking up. I guess we’ll have to contact her foster home.”
“No!” cried Angela. “I told you. They’ll put her in juvenile!”
“I hope that’s not necessary,” said Grace, attempting to calm her. “I’m not going to press charges against her.”
“If those awful people, her foster parents, hear anything about her, they’ll try to put her away,” said Angela. “She was just playing a prank at the campsite. You weren’t hurt.”
“Thank goodness.” And, luckily, Grace wasn’t the sort who would hold a grudge about it. “Doesn’t Kiki have any other relatives? An aunt or uncle or cousin?”
“She has a grandmother. Somewhere.”
“A grandmother,” Grace repeated.
“Her mom’s mother. Kiki said they were living with her grandmother in Chicago, but her mom got mad and told her mother they were leaving and would never come back.”
“Chicago.” Grace echoed. “I wonder how hard it would be to find her.”
“Do you know her name?” Caleb asked.
“Elizabeth Hartl.”
They were all silent for a minute or two.
Then Caleb switched topics. “Dessert?”
Grace suddenly realized she’d completely forgotten to buy anything. “Uh-oh, I was going to bring cupcakes.”
“No problem,” said Caleb. “I’m too full for much of anything.”
“So am I. It’s just that I promised.” And it had completely slipped her mind.
Caleb said, “Seriously, we have cookies that my mother made last week. Chocolate chip. We can have them later.”
She agreed reluctantly.
Caleb wiped the surface of the big round table with a towel. “Let’s look at the sketches for the mural. Bring them out, Angela.”
Angela left and returned with a large drawing pad.
“I haven’t seen them myself,” Caleb told Grace, leaning over to center a large sketch on the table, a drawing executed mainly in shades of green. He narrowed his eyes. “A forest? Looks kind of dark.”
Grace didn’t like the sketch at all but she decided it would be best to let Caleb be the critic. She leaned forward to point to a couple of red spots peering out of the leaves. “And what’s this?”
Angela cleared her throat. “Ghost eyes.”
Caleb reacted immediately. “Angela! You’re just trying to be unpleasant.”
“You said they wanted authentic expression.”
Caleb scowled. “You’re deliberately baiting us. What’s the matter with you?”
The girl’s face was stony. “Obviously, a lot, at least according to you.”
Grace wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to be diplomatic. Finally, she settled on, “You’ve done such beautiful pictures of nature.” She indicated a painting on the kitchen wall. “Like that landscape. Something along those lines would be nicer for Green Meadows.”
“What else have you got?” Caleb demanded of his daughter.
“Well, there’s this one.” Angela took another sheet from the pad, a drawing of an old Gothic-looking house.
Grace sighed in disappointment. “The haunted farmhouse.”
Suddenly Caleb stood, startling both women. “That’s it, Angela. Either come up with something appropriate or I’m going to ask Grace to go ahead and press charges!”
“Dad!” Angela sounded tearful. “Do you want me to have a record?”
“No, I don’t, but you deserve one.” Caleb didn’t bother to hide his disappointment. “Why can’t you behave like the decent human being I raised you to be? I know you’re mad about your mother but I don’t deserve to suffer for that. And neither does Grace. She’s gone out of her way to treat you more kindly than you deserve.”
“Only because she wants to impress you!” Angela sniffled.
“I haven’t been trying to impress your father,” Grace said quietly, “I’ve been easy on you because I’ve been in your position.”
Angela gazed at her disbelievingly. “Your life can’t be anything like mine.”
“When I was a little younger than you, my mother went off and left me, too. It still hurts me to think about it.” It was time Grace shared more with the troubled young girl. “I had a twin brother, who was killed. My mother couldn’t deal with it and left my father and me to fend for ourselves. I felt rejected and angry and acted out.”
Angela focused on Grace. “Acted out? What did you do?”
“Oh, I hung out with kids my father hated. Snuck out at night. Partied. Got involved in a little vandalism.” Though she’d been sneakier than Angela. It seemed as if the girl wanted to get caught.
“You can see why she understands this situation.” Caleb pulled out a chair to sit back down at the table. “And I was a wild kid myself. You’re not alone in your experience, Angela.”
“You’re lucky you have a parent in your corner,” Grace said. “Your dad does everything he can for you, just like mine did.”
Angela was silent for a couple of minutes, fingering the drawing pad. She gave a big sigh, then said, “Okay, let me think about the mural.” She started to head out of the kitchen but stopped. “How big is the wall anyway? Is it a square or a rectangle?”
Grace thought sh
e detected a difference in attitude. “A rectangle. But I haven’t measured it. We need to do that.”
“The size will affect the final composition,” Angela said.
“Does this mean you’re going to work on a real landscape?” Caleb asked.
“My art is always based on reality but I’m going to work up a sketch that is more natural.” The teenager made her way across the adjoining family room and turned down a hallway, calling back, “I have homework to do, so I’ll have the new sketch done in a couple of days.”
Caleb raised his brows at Grace. “We can take that as progress, right?”
“I hope so.”
Now if only she could get a better handle on how much energy to put into their problematic relationship.
* * *
SINCE IT WAS relatively early, not yet quite dusk, Caleb suggested that he and Grace drive over to Green Meadows to check out the wall for the mural. Angela was doing homework but he still didn’t trust her, so he told her they would be back in a few minutes.
In reality, he intended to spend a bit more time alone with Grace. He wasn’t sure why but there seemed to be a distance between them tonight. Maybe she was just in a bad mood but, if so, he wanted to find out what had caused it.
“Have a hectic day?” he asked as he drove.
“Somewhat.”
“Who complained about the attack at Green Meadows Saturday?”
“A resident named Mr. Cassidy. Nellie brought him in to talk to me. I think there were other people awakened by the incident, though.”
“Well, it can’t have been Lily who knocked him over. She’s living on the rez now.”
“I know.”
“Did I tell you that?” He couldn’t remember.
“She said that she was living there. I saw her this afternoon at the art store.”
“Today?” He was surprised. “I wonder what she was doing there.”
“She said she was looking for a gift for Angela.”
“Really? You talked with her?”
“Just for a moment. I overheard her mention your daughter’s name and I asked her if she meant Angela Blackthorne.”
“Though where she’d get the money for a gift, I don’t know. Did she say something that upset you?”
