When she was about ten, Izzy had asked her grandmother if the stones in the rings were real. They had been in the kitchen, making cookies. Gran answered without looking up from the batter she was stirring. “They might be diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. Or they might just be colored glass. What difference does it make? I love it because it reminds me of your grandfather.” She’d rubbed the rings between her fingertips, and her eyes took on a far-off look. “Even though he’s gone, in a way, he’s always with me.”
There was no note to explain why Gran had given her the necklace, but she didn’t need one. Gran was always with her, and this was her way of making sure Izzy never forgot.
8
This hospital food is terrible. Why would they give a chicken breast to someone with her arm in a sling?”
It had been nonstop complaints from Janice since Izzy arrived at the hospital, but she was trying very hard to be empathetic. She tried to imagine how much pain her mother must be in and how frustrated she must be. Watching her jab at her food with her left hand drove the point home.
“Let me help you with that, Mom.”
Izzy took the fork, half expecting Janice to shoo her away, but she didn’t.
“Thank you,” she almost whispered.
“No problem.” Izzy picked up the plastic knife and began sawing at the tough piece of chicken on the tray. It likely tasted just as bad as it looked. Maybe some chit-chat would distract her mother from her inedible lunch. “I put your name on the prayer list at church today.”
Janice snorted. “Oh fine. Now everyone will know my business.”
“Not everyone. Just the people who pray the most. And they’ll keep it between themselves and God.”
“Sure they will.”
Izzy leaned forward, concentrating on cutting the chicken into bite-size pieces. Why did Mom care if anybody knew she’d fallen down and hurt herself? She didn’t even know those people. You’d think she’d be grateful that perfect strangers were willing to pray for her recovery.
“How did you get that?”
If the plastic knife were as sharp as Janice’s tone, Izzy could have cut through that rubbery chicken like butter. Her eyes darted to her mother. “How did I get what?”
“Your grandmother’s necklace.”
Izzy’s hand moved to her neck, fingers closing around the three rings. When she got ready for church that morning, she’d proudly put the necklace on. But she forgot she’d be going straight from church to the hospital. Izzy didn’t want her mother to see it before she could tell her, so somewhere between the parking lot and the hospital entrance she’d tucked it underneath the scoop neck of her sweater. It must have slipped out while she tackled the chicken. “Gran gave it to me.”
Janice’s lips pressed into a thin line, the skin around them growing white.
Izzy controlled the urge to sigh. She’d messed up. She should have told her mother about the gift right away. But how would that have gone? Hi, Mom. How are you feeling? Check out the awesome necklace that Gran probably should have left to you but she gave to me instead. Not very tactful, but most likely wouldn’t have garnered a much stronger reaction.
“Mom, I—”
The opening notes of Beethoven’s Fifth sang out as Janice’s cell phone vibrated on the stand beside the bed.
“Before you scold me, don’t,” Janice said. “I asked the nurse and made sure it was OK to have my phone on in here.”
Izzy put her hands up. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” She picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID. “It’s Vibrant Vistas.”
Janice groaned. “I don’t have the strength to deal with them right now.” Without lifting her head from the pillow, she rolled it to the side to look at Izzy. “Would you talk to them?”
“Sure.” She’d do just about anything if it meant they could avoid talking about Gran’s latest gift. Izzy jabbed the button on the phone and held it against her ear. “Hello?”
“Janice Fontaine?” The voice on the other end was strained.
“No, this is her daughter, Isabella.”
“Oh, Izzy!” Like flipping a light switch, the woman’s tone became bright and upbeat. “It’s Laura, from Vibrant Vistas.”
“Hi, Laura.” After frequent visits to see Gran, Izzy was on a first-name basis with most of the folk who worked there. “My mom isn’t available right now. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Well, yes. I hate to bring this up, but … we need to clear out your grandmother’s room.”
Izzy looked at her mother, who had suddenly become fascinated by the tiny pieces of meat on her lunch tray. “I thought that was taken care of.”
“Not yet.” Laura paused, then pushed forward, speaking so fast that all her words ran together. “I’m sorry. It’s probably the last thing you want to think about right now, but we need the space.”
“There’s no need to be sorry. I’ll be there in a few hours.”
With Laura happily taken care of, Izzy disconnected the call and set the phone back on the bedside stand. “Mother?”
“Hmm?” She didn’t look up from her tray.
“I thought you got everything out of Gran’s room.”
Janice dropped her fork on the plate and fell back against the mattress, eyes closed. “I tried. But every time I thought about it, it overwhelmed me. I just couldn’t bring myself to go there.”
Izzy clenched her jaw, determined not to lose her cool. If Mom had just let her take care of it in the first place, like she was going to, it would already be done. But Janice had been adamant that she wanted to be the one to collect her mother’s things.
“You don’t understand how hard it is for me,” her mother continued. “She never wanted me around when she was alive, so why would she want me going through her things now that she’s gone?”
“I know you and Gran had a complicated relationship. But no matter what problems you had, she loved you. And I love you. But right now, I have to go.” And clean up the mess you left for me. Izzy kissed her mother on the forehead and headed for the door.
“Izzy.”
She turned around. Mom looked so pitiful, but the look on her face was hopeful, like she had something earth-shattering to say. “What, Mom?”
“Do you know when Brandon’s going to get here?”
Izzy’s shoulders drooped. “No. But I’ll call him on my way out.”
“Well now, this is a surprise.”
The smile on Virgil’s face gave Izzy the emotional boost she’d hoped for.
“I told you I’d come visit.” She held out a white bakery bag. “And I brought you something.”
He opened it, looked inside, then took a good long whiff. “Ah. Fresh brownies. How did you know?”
Izzy shrugged. “I guessed. Gran used to tell me how hard it was to get something sweet here, so I’d bring her treats. Those were her favorite.” She didn’t think it was necessary to tell him that, despite witnessing him devour a Mallo Cup yesterday, she’d checked with the duty nurse first to make sure he was allowed to have sweets. No need to make him think she was part of the Big Brother syndicate.
“Bravo for getting them past enemy lines.” He winked and put the bag on the table beside him. “I’ll eat them after dinner, if I can wait that long.” He sat back, interlocking his fingers across his stomach. “How’s your mother feeling?”
“Not great. But she’ll survive.”
Virgil smiled. “And so will you.”
“I don’t know,” she said with a chuckle. “We haven’t lived under the same roof in a very long time. Once she moves in, you may hear the explosion all the way over here.”
“It can’t be that bad. Besides, Thanksgiving is just a few days away. That should help smooth things over.”
“It’ll probably just make it worse. This will be our first Thanksgiving without Gran.”
“I take it she presided over the holidays.”
Sadness pinged through Izzy’s heart. “She did. She and my mo
m barely spoke the rest of the year, but on Thanksgiving, we all got together, no matter what. Gran cooked a big meal and afterward we decorated her Christmas tree.” The thought of being in the house on Thanksgiving without Gran pushed all the air from her lungs. How would she do it this year? “It’s all on me now. And I’m a terrible cook.”
Virgil patted her hand. “You’re probably better than you think. But you could always resort to having a traditional Logan family Thanksgiving celebration.”
“And what’s that?”
“Heading over to Denny’s.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You’re not serious.”
“As a heart attack.” He nodded sharply. “On Thanksgiving, that’s exactly where you’ll find Max and me, enjoying a hearty turkey dinner with all the fixin’s.” He winked. “And none of the cleanup afterward.”
No cleanup. The idea had merit. But then she remembered her mother’s tirade about the hospital chicken and decided against it. No one else deserved to be subjected to that at Thanksgiving.
A knock sounded at the door. Virgil looked over his shoulder and called out. “Come in!”
The door opened and a young nurse with a perky blond bob poked her head through. “Excuse me, Virgil. I heard Izzy was with you.”
“She’s right here, Laura. Come in.”
“That’s OK. I don’t want to interrupt.” She shifted her gaze to Izzy. “Whenever you’re ready, come get me. I can give you a hand.”
“Thanks.” Izzy smiled as Laura backed out and shut the door behind her.
Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t come here just to see me, did you?”
“You caught me. I have to clear out Gran’s room.”
He nodded slowly. “I see.”
“But I really did want to talk to you. And before I go, there’s something else I want to ask you.” She leaned forward, elbow to knees. “It’s about the quilt.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
Virgil laughed. “I don’t know if I have the strength for everything. Remember, I’m not as young as you are. Why don’t you tell me what you want to know first?”
Izzy leaned back, thinking. “I don’t understand how Gran could have owned something like that and never showed it to me. Do you have any idea how she got it?”
“I do.” Virgil nodded slowly. “It had been in her attic for years and years, only she didn’t know it.”
“When did she find it?”
“A few months before she moved in here.”
“That was right before she added my name to the house deed.”
“She didn’t want to burden you with a bunch of her old things when she was gone. So she hired a man from her church to help her sort through them. She had no idea the trunk was in the attic until he brought it down.”
“And that’s where she found the quilt?”
“Exactly.”
Izzy nibbled on the inside of her lip. All this time, she’d thought the quilt was something Gran had grown up with, and that’s what made it special. So why all the secrecy? Why did she include it with the things she brought to Vibrant Vistas but never mention it to Izzy? Why did she need to have it with her?
The provenance.
“Virgil, did Gran say if she found anything else with the quilt? Letters, diaries maybe?”
He frowned and looked away, focusing on something in the corner of the room. “Now that you mention it, I think she did.” His shoulders drooped and he slowly looked back at Izzy. “I’m tired. I think I’d like to take a nap.”
Biting back disappointment, Izzy rose from her chair. “That’s my cue to leave. Can I help you with anything first?”
“No, I’m fine.” He waved her off. “Just not as energetic as I used to be.”
Izzy patted him on the shoulder as she walked by. She was almost out the door when he called to her.
“Izzy?”
“Yes?” Had he remembered something important about Gran? About the quilt?
“Thanks again for the brownies.”
She pursed her lips and smiled. “My pleasure. I’ll see you later.”
Pulling the door shut behind her, she told herself not to be disappointed. She could always come back to see Virgil. And maybe, just maybe, Gran’s room would yield some clues. Maybe even the missing documentation. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
With renewed enthusiasm, she set off down the hall, certain she was about to find what she was looking for.
9
She hadn’t found a thing in Gran’s room. Nothing helpful, anyway.
There were a lot of mementos, knickknacks that meant something to her just because they meant something to Gran. But no diaries with cracked leather bindings, no bundles of old correspondence tied together with a faded satin ribbon, nothing to give her any hint about the history of the Wild Goose Chase quilt. And now, she didn’t have the time to think about it.
From the living room, a bell tinkled. Bogie barked.
“Izzy!”
Bogie continued barking. A second later, the bell rang again, louder this time.
Instead of answering the way she really wanted, Izzy bit back a groan and called out as sweetly as possible, “Just a second!”
When the nurse at the hospital suggested giving her mother a bell, it had seemed like a good idea. That way Janice wouldn’t have to yell whenever she needed something. Izzy hadn’t realized that not only would Mom continue to yell, she would also ring the bell for any little thing. And every time the bell rang, Bogie would bark.
Mom had been in her home for a mere three hours and Izzy was already on the verge of a major blowout. How would she handle two months of this?
Forcing a smile, she went into the living room, shushing Bogie along the way. “Are you OK, Mom? What do you need?”
From her spot on the couch, Janice looked up. With her right arm in a sling and her cast-covered right leg supported by strategically placed cushions, she looked about as pathetic as Izzy had ever seen her. “Water.”
“You still have almost a full glass right there.” Izzy pointed to the coffee table she’d moved into a convenient position for Janice to put everything she needed: drinks and snacks, the TV remote, her magazines, and that stupid bell.
Janice eyed the glass and wrinkled her nose. “It’s not cold anymore.”
Izzy picked it up and looked down. “There’s still ice in it.”
“Not much. It’s almost all melted. Because it’s not cold anymore.”
“OK. I’ll get you fresh water. Would you like anything else?”
“Maybe some crackers. Do you have Ritz?”
“Yes. Is that all?”
“That’s plenty.” Janice smiled and used her good hand to pull the blanket up higher on her chest. “You know I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Oh, I know.” She turned and walked to the kitchen, lips pursed together.
The phone rang and she snatched it from its cradle. The number on the display wasn’t familiar, but right now she’d even talk to a telemarketer if it would provide a few minutes of distraction. “Hello?”
“Izzy, it’s Brandon.”
“Brandon?” She looked down at the display again then put the receiver back to her ear. “Where are you calling from?”
“My cell.” He sounded out of breath, like he was in a hurry. “I lost my phone and had to get a new one.”
She wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder and began searching the pantry for crackers. “Why did you change your number?”
“I decided to go with a new carrier.”
“But couldn’t they get you your old number?”
“Seriously, Izzy, do we have to play twenty questions?”
He barked out the words and she froze with the box of Ritz in her hand. “Sorry. I was just curious. Since you’re obviously busy, tell me why you called.”
He sighed, but didn’t bother apologizing. “I need a favor.”
Of course he d
id. “What?”
“Is Mom’s car still at your house?”
“It’s in the driveway.”
“Great. Can I borrow it for a few days?”
Izzy was tempted to ask the caller to verify his name to make sure someone other than Brandon hadn’t accidentally dialed her number. Instead, she took the risk of asking more questions. “Why would you want to do that?”
“The Coop’s having engine trouble, but I don’t have time to take it to the shop.”
“Can’t you drive one of your other cars?”
More sighing came from Brandon’s side of the phone. “It’s not that simple. Can I borrow the car or not?”
If it was anybody else, Izzy would have asked her mother first. But she knew what the answer would be. “Of course. Does that mean you’re coming over now?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
She reached into the freezer and grabbed the ice-cube tray. “Great. There’s a casserole in the fridge you can heat up for dinner.” The silence of his reply didn’t engender confidence. “You do remember you promised to stay with her for a while tonight, don’t you?”
“Was that tonight? I don’t know—”
“Brandon, don’t you dare back out on me.”
“Is that Brandon?” Janice called out from the other room.
“Yeah, Mom,” Izzy called over her shoulder.
“Let me talk to him.”
“Just a second.” She thumped the glass in her hand on the counter, sloshing icy water over the rim. Now that she had a free hand, she held the receiver with it and pressed it against her mouth as she moved deeper into the kitchen. “Listen, Brandon. I’ve got a very important meeting at four o’clock, so I need you to be here in half an hour, just like you said. And I need you to stay with her for a few hours and feed her dinner. Or else.”
He snorted. “Or else what?”
“Or else you don’t get the keys to her car.”
If not for the breathing on the other end of the line, she would have thought he had hung up. “Fine.” He spat out the syllable as if it were a bitter pill dissolving on his tongue. “But I want to park the Coop in your garage.”
A Wild Goose Chase Christmas: Quilts of Love Series Page 6
