by Lori Bell
“I know Tommy well, Mrs. Ryman,” Sydney spoke honestly. She was fond of the gentleman who worked only in aisles three or seven, where it took him all day to stock shelves, partly because he chatted with every shopper who passed by.
“Well good,” Mrs. Ryman said to her. “I doubt you are aware that he is a computer whiz. He loves the World Wide Web, as I believe it’s called.” Sydney let out a slight giggle at that comment. “Tommy keeps an eye on this store for me. He came to my house with his portable computer last night. It seems the numbers that he checks each month in my market account are not adding up. We called the bank together and there seems to be an outsider horning in on my business. Stealing my money…”
Sydney immediately began to drum up the story in her mind. It would be the same one she fed Tate. Hacking was discovered, but Ry’s Market account was safe, despite what the numbers showed. Jesus. That sounded so lame to her right now as she rehashed it in her head. Especially since Mrs. Ryman had said she called the bank.
But before Sydney could utter a rehearsed word, Mrs. Ryman spoke again. “I have not gone to my son, nor have I contacted the authorities. I am standing here for answers, and you had damn well better give them to me.” Sydney was certain this woman rarely, if ever, cursed. It actually sort of frightened her. Maybe this frail little old woman was deceiving on the exterior and should be feared? Sydney tried her absolute best to remain calm.
“I understand your concern,” Sydney began. “I can assure you I have spoken to the bank president and the market’s money is safe. Yes, there were accounts compromised at the bank, but your money is safe. The numbers may not show it, and I told Tate the same, but there really is no reason to worry.” She held her breath and awaited Mrs. Ryman’s response.
“You must take me for some old fool…” Mrs. Ryman’s lips were pursed when she paused, “but I can assure you I am not. I may live a simple life with less extravagant things. I don’t need a big house, fancy clothes, or frequent trips. I do like to count my money though. It’s a favorite pastime of mine. Oh, and Tommy, as we both speak so highly of, has a grandson. He’s a remarkable man, yes. He’s Camden’s only bank’s president.”
Sydney felt her face fall. Was she caught? Was she going to prison for life? Had the money been traced to the thug she paid off in the back alley of Lantern Inn? And, her ultimate fear, What would Tate think of her now?
“You are mistaken, Mrs.–”
“I thought I made myself clear? Do not play me for a fool.” Mrs. Ryman’s voice remained so calm is was almost eerie. “Tell me why you stole fifty thousand dollars from me. I will not leave here until the truth comes out of your mouth.”
Sydney sighed. The truth? Where would she begin with this? Should she just blurt out that she wanted her sister out of her life, gone from this world? “I will pay you back every last cent. That was my plan. I just needed time.”
“Are you in trouble?” Mrs. Ryman asked Sydney, and she assumed she meant financially. This old lady had absolutely no idea what kind of trouble Sydney had recently gotten herself into.
“I feel like I am now,” Sydney admitted, and she surprised herself with those honest words.
“Let me share something with you,” Mrs. Ryman said. “I have millions of dollars, as you now know because my son trusted you with our business. I do not need a measly fifty thousand dollars. In fact, I wonder now if I would have even loaned it to you if you had asked, if your reasoning behind needing that much money was necessary to your survival or something.”
“Necessary to my survival?” Sydney repeated, feeling strong and so unlike herself right now. But, it was now or never. She would plead her case, or at least share the truth that had been eating away at her for so very long. “My, how that’s an interesting way to phrase it. My parents, as you probably know after living in this town all of your life, were killed in a car accident when I was only eleven years old. From that day on, I tried every way I knew how to get my big sister to love me and take care of me, and to just be my family. She was all I had left. And she failed me. She left me feeling helpless and hopeless and unloved for most of my life. When she was not ignoring me, she was berating me. And that has not changed. I hate her, and I’ve finally reached the point of no return. I do not want or need her love. In fact, she is in my way of having a great love, a wonderful life. So, you want to know what I did with the money I pre-fer to say I borrowed from your bank account? I hired a hitman to kill my sister.”
Mrs. Ryman swallowed hard. This was shocking, sure. She thought of the accident. She thought how she had not gone to visit that girl in the hospital, nor since she was at home recovering. She did talk to Tate about her, and kindly through clenched teeth she had asked how Edie was feeling, but that was all. She only cared about her son and his state of worry and sadness when he almost lost that woman he’s so deeply in love with. Mrs. Ryman would never understand it. But, she had tried to support that relationship for the sake of her son.
“Say something, please…” Sydney begged. “I know you must think I’m a horrible person. I just could not take it anymore…and I wish she had died.”
“I never thought I would be standing inside of this office my honest husband used to call his own, under this roof of a store I sometimes thought he loved more than me…never in my wildest dreams had I ever fathomed something like this. In response to what you have told me, I have only one thing to say…” Sydney held her breath.
“If you need more money for someone to finish the job, I will personally write you a check.” And then the elderly woman started to turn to walk away. Just like that, she began to exit the office. Sydney thought about calling her back. She wanted to be sure she understood this exchange. What exactly had just gone down? Mrs. Ryman hated Edie just as much? Enough to also want her dead?
And then Sydney opted to just let her walk out that door.
Chapter 13
Tate was outside shoveling the snow-packed driveway in front of his detached double-car garage and the walkway that led up the entrance of the mudroom. Two inches of snow had fallen overnight. He had his hood up on his coat as the wind was blustery. Edie was inside, almost ready to leave to take a drive into town. She was not supposed to be driving until she had a follow-up appointment with her doctor. But she felt stronger, and her bruise was healing. Edie had applied a powder-based foundation to her face and forehead this morning. A little makeup to conceal some of the discoloration from the bruise made her feel more at ease about going out in public since the accident. The accident that she was going to discuss with her sister today. It was time. Edie now had the proof to confront her.
Edie was wearing a winter white chunky turtleneck sweater with black leggings, and tall tan Ugg boots. She grabbed her purse and her long winter white coat on her way out of the kitchen and into the mudroom, where she slipped it on and fastened it to prepare for the cold. Tate was still shoveling the snow when he spotted her walking on the path he had already cleared.
“Hey, look at you. You look great. Where are you going?” Tate gave her a look that she interpreted as, you are not supposed to be driving.
“For a drive into town,” she replied cautiously.
“To where? I can take you. You have not been released to drive yet, E.” Tate was a by-the-book man who almost always walked the straight and narrow. It was one of the things Edie never minded too much about him, but in a case like this, it sometimes annoyed her. Right now, however, she opted to just tell him the truth.
“Your mom called,” she admitted. “I’m not sure what it’s about, but she asked to see me.”
“Seriously?” Tate asked, looking perplexed. That was not an everyday occurrence. In fact, it never occurred before at all. Tate’s mother had not taken to Edie, and Tate clearly realized that, no matter how she pretended to come across. “Well, I’m going with you. No objections. I’ll shovel her walk or something while we’re there. My curiosity has peaked.” Edie smiled at him, and gave in. She had no idea why Mrs.
Ryman had summoned her, and if she really did dwell on it, it made her nervous. If anything, just having Tate there would help calm her nerves.
*
When they stepped inside, Tate and Edie both dried the bottom of their boots on the rug directly in front of Mrs. Ryman’s kitchen door. Her house was a modest bricked ranch-style with a full furnished basement. It was the house she and her husband moved into when their children were small. The market had begun to do well then, and they had lived in the same home ever since.
“Tate? I didn’t know you were coming along…” Mrs. Ryman spoke, as she sat at the oval cherry wood kitchen table with a steaming cup of coffee. Compared to Edie and Tate who had just come in from the cold, snowy weather, she looked warm and cozy in her powder blue sweatsuit.
“Edie cannot drive yet, Ma,” Tate said, and Edie shook her head as if that was not a big deal. “And I figured you would need me shovel your walk.”
“Yes, you go do that,” Tate’s mother told him, “while Edie and I have a cup of coffee.”
“Where’s my coffee?” Tate asked, but he was teasing, and Edie smiled at him. He loved his mother. There were times when she saw the interaction between Tate and both of his parents, before his father died, and she would feel an overwhelming sadness for what she did not have in her life. Edie was still standing beside Tate on the rug which was now wet from the clumps of snow on the soles of their boots.
“You’ll get yours when you’re done shoveling,” Mrs. Ryman winked at him, but Tate knew she was serious. For some reason, his mother wanted to speak to Edie alone. He just hoped it was all good. “Come in, dear, and don’t worry if your boots are a little wet. Floors will dry.” Mrs. Ryman had noticed Edie attempting to wipe off the bottoms of her boots on the rug, shuffling her feet back and forth. She just wasn’t in a hurry to move over to the kitchen table and have a conversation with her boyfriend’s mother. She and Mary Lou Ryman had never gotten along, or attempted to get to know each other.
Edie watched Tate leave before she finally turned around and walked over to the table. She draped her long coat over one chair and then pulled out another chair adjacent to Mary Lou’s. When she sat down, Mary Lou stood up. She walked over to the counter in her brown moccasins which she wore with thick white socks. She poured Edie a cup of coffee and refilled her own cup at the counter before she walked back to the table with both.
Edie thanked her, but said nothing more. Her snow white hair, cut into a bob, always looked the same. Mary Lou’s eyes looked different now though, as Edie recognized the grief in them. It was a pain that goes hand in hand with loss. An emptiness that eats away at a person day in and day out. Edie had been there and saw the light missing from her own eyes for many years after her parents were killed. This was the first time Edie felt remotely connected to Tate’s mother. She wouldn’t speak of it though. She couldn’t resurrect that pain inside of her. Not for anyone.
While Edie sipped her coffee, Mary Lou noticed something different in her as well. She looked natural without all of the frill and perfectly applied makeup. She was a beautiful woman on the exterior, for sure, Mary Lou had always recognized that. She saw the bruise on her forehead. Even underneath makeup, it could not be entirely concealed. For a moment, Mary Lou felt sorry for her pain. It had to be awful to have a car accident. Mary Lou was aware it had not been Edie’s first, although the crash when she was a child was far worse because it had taken lives. Her parents’ lives.
“So, how are you feeling?” Mary Lou asked, referring to Edie’s recovery from the accident.
“Better every day, thank you,” Edie replied. “I still have to be released by my doctor to go back to work though, and I’m hoping that will be next week.” Ah, yes, her work, Mary Lou thought to herself. What she wanted most for her son was a woman opposite of Edie. One who didn’t worship a career. A woman willing to stay at home and raise babies. Just as Mary Lou had. She never worked a day at their market until after her children were school aged. What she wanted for Tate was so much more than Edie Klein was, and would ever be.
“Have you ever thought about quitting that job of yours?” Mary Lou asked her, and Edie nearly choked on the coffee she had just swallowed. “What I mean is, it appears to consume you. My God, you were on your way home from working so late at night…” This was the first time Mrs. Ryman had not held back. She had never tried to get this girl to change before. She knew if her husband were still alive, he would reprimand her now for what she was doing, for what she was saying to the woman their son loved.
“I know you’re hurting,” Edie spoke, not even realizing why she was being so honest and not at all feeling angry for this woman’s judgmental behavior. Mrs. Ryman only stared at Edie. “You see, I’ve been there. I know grief and I know what it can do to a person. It really can make you act like you never would otherwise.”
“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Ryman said to her, “and I would rather not discuss my grief for my husband with you.”
“Sure. Never mind,” Edie obliged. “It’s no secret that you don’t like me.” Edie changed her focus from discussing grief, because that was never a good idea for her. “And that’s okay. What matters is how your son feels. He loves me.”
“Yes, but do you love him?” Mrs. Ryman was direct and it was so unlike her. Still, Edie was not afraid of this conversation. For once, she was being real. They both were. She felt oddly connected to this woman who she never really liked at all.
Did she love Tate? Why was she being forced to go there again? Admitting her feelings was not her strength. In fact, that act alone made her feel weak. She had decided long ago that feeling too deep, expressing too much, would only drown her. “Tate is very important to me,” Edie answered, carefully.
“And what about your sister?” Mrs. Ryman added. “She’s your only family. And yet you treat her like a stranger.”
Edie was taken aback. “Forgive me, Mrs. Ryman, but how is my relationship with Syd any of your business?”
“I suppose I’ve reached a point where I am trying to figure you out. I don’t like what I see.” Mrs. Ryman scoffed at her.
“I think your son would be very upset with you if he heard how you are speaking to me right now.” Edie played the Tate card. He, after all, was the man between them. The man in her life was this woman’s only son. A grown man, nonetheless, who could make his own decisions.
“Let’s leave Tate out of this,” Mrs. Ryman responded. Edie still had a full cup of coffee in front of her, which she had not touched since this conversation became more heated than the beverage itself. Mrs. Ryman, on the other hand, had already drank half of hers.
“What exactly is this?” Edie asked. “You called me. I came. What do you want from me?”
“I want you to help me die.” Those words, so certain and direct, made Edie’s eyes widen, and her mouth dropped open but she was momentarily unable to speak.
“Excuse me? Mrs. Ryman, you really need to see a doctor …please let me and Tate get you some help.” Edie started to stand up, but Mrs. Ryman stopped her. She placed her hand on top of Edie’s and held it there. This was the first touch Edie ever remembered from this woman. She had always kept her distance, and Edie liked it that way. This, however, felt genuine. Motherly. The way Mrs. Ryman was toying with her emotions made Edie feel terribly uncomfortable. She should have walked out of this kitchen by now. No one deserved to be treated like this. But something was keeping her there.
“No doctor. I need someone who understands what I’m going through. You know grief. You implied as much earlier.” A part of Mrs. Ryman wanted to understand this young woman. But, the other, dominant part of her just wanted to create a rift between Edie and her son. She wanted Edie to think she was grief-stricken to the point of being suicidal. Mrs. Ryman did not intend for her own life to end. She just wanted Edie to believe that. “You also do not like me much. You’re the perfect person to help me die.”
Edie was instantly scared. Tate needed to know this. Tate sho
uld be inside of his mother’s house right now, hearing this craziness. But, he wasn’t. And she felt forced to handle this. Edie inhaled a deep, slow breath through her nostrils, and hoped to God she was making the right decision by confiding in this woman. Her reckless behavior called for dire measures. Edie suddenly believed she could help Tate’s mother. By telling her the truth. Maybe if she knew her husband had made it to the other side, she would be able to pull herself together, and go on living her life.
Chapter 14
“I do understand. More than you know,” Edie told her. “Just, please, listen and hear me out completely before you respond.” Mrs. Ryman only nodded her head, as she took another long sip of her coffee, nearly finishing it all. “When I had the accident, I woke up at the scene. There’s no other way to explain it. I had an out of body experience. I watched what was happening to me, and I wasn’t alone. Someone was sent from the other side to comfort me, I guess, and to guide me, and help me understand exactly what had happened.” Mrs. Ryman creased her brow and she wanted to interject and express her confusion, but she relented and just listened. “It was your husband. I saw him, spoke to him. He was there.”
