"You did nothing of the sort." Helen chuckled. "All I remember you saying is that we'd have less mess if we built a separate addition."
"That's true. Anyway, if you want me to call Jason I'd better get off the phone. See you soon."
Still smiling at the prospect of seeing her children, Helen rang off and settled the cell phone back in the console. Claire was right about one thing. time did manage to slip away more quickly these days. She and J.B. had not been to Portland to visit her family for nearly a month. There had been phone calls, of course, but you couldn't get a hug through a phone line. She missed them all, especially her four grandchildren.
Helen pulled into Kate's driveway at quarter after nine. She paused before getting out of the car, taking time to enjoy the look and feel of the place. Kate's artistic style displayed itself everywhere, from the curtains in the windows of the two-story Tudor to the beautifully landscaped yard. Making her way up the walk, she stopped to admire the lobelia and begonias still flourishing in the flower beds next to the house.
When Kate didn't answer Helen's ring, she tried the door. Locked, which probably meant Kate was in her studio. Helen made her way around the house to the the cottage where Kate did her artwork and conducted her interior design business. Helen knocked and opened the door at the same time. "Hi, sweetheart. Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
Kate glanced over at her, then turned back to the easel. "Why do people always say that? Everything I do in here is important." A smile softened her comment. She scrutinized the canvas and dabbed at it with a brush dripping with dark blue paint. "There's hot water on the stove and a pot of coffee brewing. You can pour us each a cup, unless you'd rather have tea."
Helen closed the door and stepped over piles of drapery samples to the kitchenette. The room smelled of coffee, spicy potpourri, linseed oil, paint, and turpentine. Light filled the room through large windows and skylights. Taking down two cups and a canister of tea, Helen poured hot water into one, then dunked in a bag of Earl Grey. While the tea steeped, Helen took the coffee to her daughter.
"Just put it on the table." Kate spoke around a brush and was now brandishing a palette knife.
"What are you working on?" Helen went back to her tea and discarded the tea bag in the wastebasket under the sink.
"Just putting the finishing touches on your wedding present."
"Really?" Helen sipped at her tea as she walked back to the easel. "May I see?"
"Sure. I've been working on it off and on since June."
Helen stepped behind Kate for a better view. "Oh my . . . Kate, it's beautiful." Kate had used the photos Helen had sent of her and J.B. and created a portrait fit for royalty. J.B. was wearing a tuxedo, and Helen wore a blue sequined gown and diamond tiara. Tears blurred the image as memories of their romantic rendezvous poured into her mind. The photo had been taken at the American Embassy in France to celebrate the ambassador's birthday. On the way home that evening, J.B. proposed. They married the next day.
"I take it you've forgiven me," Helen said. Kate had been hurt and angry about their decision to marry abroad rather than wait until they came home. Helen hadn't wanted the fuss.
"Not exactly." Her daughter's lips curled in a half smile. "I understand why you did it, though. I'm glad you married J.B." She set the brush in a jar of gray liquid and swished it around, then wiped it with a soft cloth.
"So am I."
"Do you think he'll like it?"
"Oh, darling, he'll love it."
"Good. I'll take it down this weekend. I want to have a look at the place before I make the final decisions on the decor. Thought I'd hang it in your bedroom. That is, unless you want it above the fireplace in the front room."
"I'll leave that up to you. Wherever you think it fits best." Helen brought the cup to her mouth and inhaled the delicious aroma of her spice tea.
"Okay." After cleaning her hands, Kate grabbed her cup and led the way outside. "The turpentine smell gets a little strong in here. Want to sit on the deck?"
It was still a bit chilly, but the sun would soon warm things up. Helen settled onto a padded redwood chair in the sun. Though Kate and Kevin's home was in a residential area, the two-acre lot afforded a great deal of privacy. Most of the flowers around the deck were gone, but the roses and dahlias, along with pansies and marigolds, were still in bloom. Helen loved coming here. Before her marriage to J.B., she'd often stay a week or two at a time in the guest room attached to the studio.
As if reading her mind, Kate said, "We've missed having you here, Mom."
"I know. I've missed being here." Setting her cup on the picnic table, she asked, "Did you call Jason?"
"Yes, but neither he nor Susan could get away. She has a doctor's appointment this morning and wants Jason to go with her." She frowned.
"Is something wrong?"
"What?" Kate gave her a quick glance, then resumed her scrutiny of her cup. "Oh, nothing that I know of. But I can tell Susan is worried. The doctor has scheduled so many tests. 'Just to be on the safe side,' he tells her. She's having an ultrasound and the doctor wants an amniocentesis. Since she's older, he wants to make sure the baby doesn't have Down's syndrome."
"I see."
"I don't understand why they can't just leave her alone. What are they going to do if she does have a Down's child? I mean, it's not like she's going to consider an abortion. And there's every chance the baby could be normal. They're just creating a lot of stress for them."
"How is Jason handling all of this?"
Kate sucked in a deep breath. "He's terrific, Mom, so supportive and caring. I never thought I'd say this, but he's turning into a pretty terrific guy."
"Kate, what a thing to say."
"I'm teasing. It feels good to finally see them happy again. I don't want anything to go wrong."
"I wonder if I should postpone my trip up north to see Paddy. Sounds like they could use some encouragement."
"We'd all love you to stay, but from what you told me, Uncle Paddy needs you more than we do. Besides, I can handle things at this end. You've taught me well."
"I have, haven't I?" Helen rose from the chair. "I'd best be going, then. Claire will be waiting."
"In a way I wish I were going with you. I'd love to see Claire and Megan and Uncle Paddy again."
"That would be nice." Helen made her way around to the front yard and opened her car door. "Kate, I wonder if you'd do me a favor."
"Sure."
"Check on J.B. for me, will you? Make sure he isn't trying to do too much."
"As if I could stop him, or you either for that matter." She raised her eyebrows. "Don't look so worried. When I take the picture down, I plan to take the kids and spend the night. I'll make him toe the mark."
Helen hugged her and left directions to give each of the children a kiss from their Gram. "Hopefully J.B. and I can come visit and maybe even stay with you for a few days once the addition is finished.”
Kate waved. "I have a safe trip. Give Uncle Paddy and the others my love. And don't worry."
"Don't worry," Helen muttered as she turned out of the driveway. "Easier said than done."
Over the next few miles Helen worked at casting her cares on God as the Bible instructed. To help her unload, she plugged in another CD and listened intently as Neil Diamond sang about Brother Love's traveling salvation show.
By the time she reached Seattle and exited off the freeway, she'd whittled her cares down to one: Uncle Paddy. To reassure herself that he was still safe and well, Helen pulled his card out of her bag and punched out his number.
"He isn't here. I tried to stop him, but he insisted on going." Hillary sounded even more upset than she had the night before.
"Calm down, Hillary. Where is he?"
"The old buzzard insisted on taking the boat in to pick you up himself."
"I don't see why that should be a problem. He knows the waters, and he's always been a good sailor."
"That's not what worries me."<
br />
"Then what's the problem?"
"Richard. He came in last night and they had another fight. Richard took the keys to the boat and the car away from Paddy. Richard said he was getting too old to drive anymore. Of course, you can imagine what Paddy said. They're both on the boat now, Helen. And I get a feeling Richard is up to no good."
Chapter Three
Hillary, there's no point in worrying over it. I'm sure they'll be fine. If Richard does mean his father harm, which I'm certain isn't the case, he isn't stupid enough to do anything when he knows the whole family is coming."
"He might if he was desperate, and he seems to be. It was just awful, Helen. I've never seen the two of them so angry with each other."
"Does Paddy keep a cell phone on the boat?"
"Yes, yes, he does."
"Good. Give me the number and I'll call. If I don't get an answer, I'll contact the Coast Guard."
"That's a good idea. Maybe you can calm them down, that is, if it's not too late. Just a minute." Papers rustled and several seconds later she came back on the line, breathing hard as though she'd just run a race. Not surprising, given her weight problem. She gave Helen the number.
"Okay, I'll give them a call and get back to you. Now go fix yourself a cup of tea and try to relax."
"Tea? Ha! I'm breaking out the cooking sherry. Then I think I'll catch up on my soaps."
“You'd better go easy on both counts. I'll call you as soon as I learn anything."
Helen waited for a dial tone, then punched in the numbers. It rang six times before someone picked up.
Hearing her uncle's voice, Helen released the breath she'd been holding. "Uncle Paddy. This is Helen."
"Helen!" he roared. "You haven't changed your mind about coming, have you?" Paddy's voice was asthmatic, a result of being a longtime smoker.
She winced and pulled the receiver away from her ear. Uncle Paddy had always been loud, but hearing loss increased the volume by a decibel or two every year. "No, I'll be there. I'm picking up Claire now. I'm calling because Hillary seemed to think you might be in danger."
"That woman is gonna be the death of me yet. She's sounding more like a nagging wife every day."
"Well, you did hire her to look after you. She was concerned about Richard and. . .."
"What's going on between Richard and me is none of her dad-blamed business."
"Uncle Paddy, is Richard with you?"
"He's down in the cabin pouting. Did you want to talk to him?"
"No, that's okay. I'll catch him later. Hillary said he took your keys. . .."
Uncle Paddy laughed, triggering a coughing spasm. He sounded as though he was losing a lung in the process. "That son of mine is a hoot," he wheezed, his volume considerably lower. "Tells me I can't pilot my own boat." Uncle Paddy cleared his throat. " 'Better let me drive,' he says."
"I'm sure Richard has good intentions. He's probably worried about you."
"Humph. Whatever his intentions were, they're gone now. Looks to have heaved them right over the side of the boat with his lunch. Serves him right."
"Poor Richard. Don't tell me he's seasick."
"It was his own doing. Wanted to play skipper. 'Okay,' I says, 'have at it. lust watch those swells.' He lasted all of ten minutes afore he turned green. Had to take over at the helm for the boy. Seems to have lost his sea legs."
Helen could empathize. She'd been seasick a time or two herself. "Rough seas?" she asked.
"Aye. A big storm hit this morning."
"I hope it calms down before we head for the island."
Paddy laughed again and accused her of going soft. "Sun's trying to come out. I'll order up calm seas for you."
"Thanks." Helen rang off saying she and Claire would be at the dock by three. She called Hillary back, assuring her that if anyone was in danger at the moment, it was Richard.
Before placing the call, Helen had taken an exit just north of downtown Seattle and was headed west toward the Sound. As she wound through the residential area toward Claire's home, she couldn't help wondering what was going on with Richard.
She remembered him as being intelligent and serious. Moody at times, but not mean. As a kid he'd been straight enough, leaving most of the rebellion to his younger sister. While Claire wore flowers in her hair, donned bell-bottoms, hitchhiked to San Francisco, and sang folk songs with the likes of Mama Cass, Richard went to college and law school. Letters from Gwen, Paddy's wife, raved about her son winning this regatta and that rowing tournament. Helen learned later when she and Ian came to the States that he'd never passed the bar exam. Gwen, being a Newport Beach socialite at the time and never one to admit defeat, claimed her son had taken a higher road and would end up a millionaire.
And he had. The man went from rags to riches about as often as he changed his underwear. He'd gotten into real estate and property development, bouncing from one job to another, one day a supposed millionaire, losing his shirt the next.
Fortunately, his wife had money, so they'd never been without. Unlike Claire, he'd been married only once. From all she'd heard until recently, it was a stable marriage. Gwen had apparently chosen well for him. He and Sandra had two children. Helen couldn't imagine him being flat-out broke or asking Paddy for money. He'd have to be desperate to do that. Perhaps Sandra had cut him off and left him to fend for himself.
Helen put her musings about Richard out of her head when she pulled into Claire's driveway. The house, an older Victorian that Claire and Bill had restored soon after they were married, sat at the top of the hill on a four-acre parcel of view property, an island of history amidst modern-day condominiums.
Helen stepped out of the car and started up the walk. The grounds were perfectly manicured, due no doubt to the efforts of Claire's gardener. Claire, the ultimate flower child during the sixties, still loved plants, but she managed to kill anything and everything she tried to grow herself. Paddy used to say she'd developed a brown thumb from smoking too much marijuana. A habit long since overcome but not soon forgotten or forgiven. For a time Claire's choices created considerable heartache for the O'Donnells. As always, though, Gwen managed to save the day by playing cupid between Claire and William Fairchild, Richard's best friend and the son of one of America's wealthiest families.
Once she met Bill, Claire's romance with peace, communes, and the Jesus Movement faded in the light of true love and more traditional religious practices.
The sun, having emerged ten minutes before, reflected off raindrops still beading the leaves and grass. She'd lucked out and missed another rainstorm. A gust of wind tore at the red and gold leaves of a giant oak in the front yard, scattering them across the lawn.
"Helen!" Claire, looking as though she'd stepped back in time, swooped out of the house, across the wide porch, and down the stairs. Her coppery red curls bounced as she ran. She landed in her cousin's arms, nearly throwing them both off balance. "I'm so glad you came. I've missed you terribly."
"I've missed you too." Helen held her cousin at arm's length and frowned. "Claire, what's happened to you? You don't even look like yourself."
Claire spun around, showing off her trim figure. In her jeans and T-shirt Claire could have almost passed for a teenager. "I was hoping you'd notice. I've dropped seventy-five pounds this year."
"Wow. Isn't that a bit much? I mean, you look fantastic, but. . .."
"Thanks. Part of that, of course, is due to a face-lift and tummy tuck. I had that done about six months ago to reduce some of the baggy skin. Mostly, though, it's the new weight-loss program I've been on."
"Whatever you did seems to have worked a miracle."
Claire looped her arm around Helen's and pulled her toward the house. "No miracle, common sense mostly. And Fabian . . ." She bit her lip to keep it from trembling and blinked back the moisture forming in her eyes. "But let's not talk about that right now. I'll fill you in on the details over lunch. Come on inside. I thought it might be nice for you to rest for a while, so I asked Abby to
make us some lunch. I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not. It's a wonderful idea." Helen paused in the entry to shed her waterproof jacket and set it on a coat-tree. "As long as it's not too much trouble."
"Are you kidding? No trouble at all. Not for me, anyway."
"By the way, who's Abby?"
"My nutritionist. I'll tell you about her later too. She's prepared chilled salmon and condiments with a green salad."
"Mm. Lead me to it. I'm starved. I don't know what it is about driving, but it makes me hungrier than when I'm working out."
Claire laughed. "I'm really glad we're driving up together. I want to hear everything that's been going on with you. I couldn't believe it when you wrote and said you and J.B. had married. Why didn't you invite me to the wedding?"
"It was rather quickly decided, I'm afraid. I didn't even call Kate until the next day."
"Yes, but I would have dropped everything and flown to Paris."
Helen chuckled. "I don't doubt that for a minute."
"Come on. I think lunch is almost ready." They followed the clinking dishes and spicy smells into the kitchen.
"Abby," Claire spoke to a slender blond woman who looked to be about thirty, "this is my dearest cousin, Helen Bradley."
"Hi, Abby. If your cooking is as wonderful as it smells, I may have to hire you myself."
Her blue eyes twinkled. "Thanks, but I'm afraid the Oregon coast would be a long commute."
"Shame on you, Helen. Doesn't the Bible say thou shalt not covet thy cousin's nutritionist?" Claire waved her hand in the air.
"More or less." Helen leaned against the counter.
"Well, don't get any ideas. I don't plan on giving her up anytime soon. She's primarily responsible for this fabulous waistline."
"If you're really interested in having a nutritionist, Helen, I have a friend who lives in Lincoln City. I'll give you her name before I leave." Abby's gaze shifted from the contents of a saucepan to Claire and Helen, then back.
"Hmm. Something to think about. I would like to talk to her, if nothing else. I need ideas for eating healthier. Both J.B. and I need to watch our diets."
A Haunting Refrain: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 4) Page 3
