by Garcia, Rita
The sunny kitchen, painted the creamiest yellow, blended both traditional and modern. Down the hall, I found a large bedroom. A classic claw foot tub sat in the middle of the connecting bath, like a stylish centerpiece. The two rooms boasted shades of aqua and white linen, a peaceful atmosphere where one could relax from the cares of the day. I opened the folding doors leading to a balcony with a sweeping view of the sea, mimicking the colors in the room. Anne had created her own sanctuary. My breath stopped for a moment when I spotted an unfinished piece of artwork leaning against an easel. No one in my family had ever shared my love of painting. I lightly ran my hand across the strokes of paint on the canvas. I resisted the urge to pick up the brush and add my own. Instead, I continued to explore her home.
The second bedroom looked to belong to a young girl, filled with swirls of softness like fluffy cotton candy on a summer day. I picked up a silver brush from the dresser, an engraving of the name Samantha Elizabeth glared back at me. Was this room meant for me?
The pastel fabrics had faded, sending a message the room had waited much too long. Anne, I’m sorry I never knew. I need to understand. If you loved me…why…why did you give me away?
Every neuron inside me was firing overtime—shredding my emotions until I was unable to process anymore. Busywork always helped clear my mind.
The dust layered on the surfaces defied the beauty. I pushed away the stinging questions and located the needed supplies, and tackled the largest bedroom first. After stripping the bed, I popped the sheets in to wash and dusted the room. With the easy part finished, I slid open the mirrored doors. A huge closet overflowed with Anne’s clothes. I immediately closed the door and took Goldie outside. I wanted to run back to Maggie’s—the closest thing to going home here in Serenity Cove.
Goldie sniffed around choosing the ideal spot to do her thing, and then we wandered next door to the coffee shop. I climbed onto a stool at the counter. Julia brought the carafe and filled my upturned mug. “Something to go with your coffee?”
“No, thanks.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as gloomy as the shadow quenching my spirit.
“You okay?” Concern reflected in Julia’s eyes. She filled a mug for herself and gave Goldie one of the doggie treats she now kept under the counter.
“I’ve been cleaning the apartment. And I—”
“Ah. Anne’s personal items need to be dealt with. Let’s sat in a booth where it’s easier to talk.”
I sat across from her with Goldie at my feet. “How’d you know?”
“Sweetie, I’ve been there. My Harry passed last year. Forty-six years together.” She worried the rings on her third finger.
“Wow. Forty-six years.” Julia nodded and we sat as though honoring Harry with a long moment of silence.
She took a sip of her coffee. “Back in the storage room, I have a few boxes. Fill them with anything you think is useable. You can drop the cartons off at Serenity Cove Community Church.”
“Do they send them to the needy?”
“The church has a program called Open Closet. Some items are sold at a yearly rummage sale and the money is used for families in need. We have local residents who also benefit from the clothing—they’re always welcome to browse through the Open Closet. Nothing pleased Anne more than helping others. I miss her.” She dabbed a tear and I looked away. Unsure if the drops of moisture were for Harry—or Anne. Maybe both.
“Why didn’t I visit Anne before she…before…” I picked up the mug and sipped the liquid, trying to swallow the bitter regret lodged in my throat.
“Sweetie, there’s some answers we’ll never have until we walk the golden pathways in heaven.” She slid across the vinyl-covered seat. “I’m going to grind a bag of coffee beans for you to take with you. I have a supply of nice shiny beans. When the beans lose their shine, they lose their robust flavor.” There was only a hint of a smile on her face. “Coffee trivia.”
I sensed she wanted to lighten the heaviness permeating the air. I couldn’t wrap my imagination around losing a life partner after so many years, much longer than the twenty-nine years I’d been alive.
I sat and stared at the coffee mug without really seeing it until Julia placed a bag on the table in front of me. “Let’s go into the back room and I’ll help you with those boxes.”
Together, we carried them to the apartment. “Thanks.” I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Appreciate your help.”
“I’ll get out of your way. Let me know if you need anything else.” She crushed me to her. Did a mother’s hug feel much the same?
It fascinated me, the things you can learn about a person from her closet. Anne’s dresses and skirts were soft and flowing—feminine. We wore the same size, judging by the six stitched on the labels. I buried my face in one of her dresses and breathed in the lingering, sweet earthy aroma of her perfume. Her pants were a couple of inches short on me. She must have been five-four, or it could be a difference in body proportions. I folded a few pieces and stacked them on the bed, things I’d decided to keep, without a clue why.
From the top of the stairs, one by one I gave the filled boxes a shove with my foot, letting them tumble to the bottom. And Goldie and I headed to the church perched on a rolling knoll to drop off the cartons.
The setting of the small church evoked peace. Either from seeing the church again, or handling Anne’s clothes—questions bombarded me. Had my parents truly considered me their daughter? Had I ever belonged in their world? Thinking back, I could never recall fitting into their life.
The desire to belong flowed through my senses and threatened my logic. “Stop it!” Goldie perked up her ears and eyed me from the passenger seat. I softened my voice to reassure her. “Sorry, baby, everything’s okay.”
Was it possible? A future and a hope here in Serenity Cove?
Chapter Seven
I parked in front of the bookshop on Main Street. Red paint screamed from the windows. Get out of town. Go home. Leave NOW. I texted Sam, and leaned against my truck while I waited for her.
She came out the door of her shop. The windows demanded her attention. “Why? Who’s doing this?” Her mouth arched downward and distress filled her eyes.
“I’ll find who’s responsible. You can count on it.” When I placed my arm around her, wanting to comfort her, she backed away. Had I misread her interest? We’d talked and laughed over dinner—we’d connected. “What’s up?”
“We can’t happen. It’s not you—it’s me. You’re a great guy. I’ve never met anyone so kind and generous.”
What was with the you’re a great guy speech? I hadn’t purposed marriage. “Can we talk?” She lowered her head and darted back inside.
Maggie hurried out of her store joining me in front of the bookshop. Her eyes locked onto the windows.
“Who did this?” Her expression flipped between anger and sympathy. “Poor Sam.”
“A cleanup crew’s on the way. You didn’t see anything unusual?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged. “As usual, I came in through the alley.”
Alec zipped his cruiser into a parking spot. He lobbed a hello our direction and came to where we stood. He studied the pane. “Maggie’s car—now this. Let’s get to it and catch this culprit. How can I help?”
“Start with the shop owners.” I pointed across the street.
“You got it, boss.” He stepped off the curb and waited as a car slowed to gaze at the painted words, lifting their phone as though snapping a picture.
“I’m going to talk to Lilyan this afternoon.” I rubbed my neck to relieve the knotted tension. “How about John—think he would stoop to this level?”
“Anne’s dad is in his eighties. And I’d hate to think he’d deface the bookshop. It’d be an insult to his daughter’s memory. And you know Lilyan. She’s always been a little out there with her unbridled imagination, but she’s never shown any signs of being malicious.”
“You’re right.” I stared at the closed door of the bookshop. �
��It couldn’t hurt to talk to John. Pitch a good word on Sam’s behalf.”
“Are you sure that’s what Sam wants?” Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Just saying.” She patted my shoulder. “I’m going to go check on Sam. This can’t be easy for her.”
I wanted to talk to her about Sam. But I wasn’t in the mood for opinions—pro or con. Instead, I left and made the rounds of shop owners and met up with Alec an hour later to compare notes.
“Not much to go on.” I shoved the pen into my pocket. “I’ll take Nicole and pay Lilyan a visit. The situation warrants taking a female officer—don’t want any misunderstandings.”
Alec flipped the cover over his notebook. “You think Lilyan’s involved?”
“Not likely. While I’m gone, talk to some of the locals, see what turns up. We’ll meet back at the station later.”
“I’m on it.” He adjusted his cap.
Nicole waited outside as I pulled into the lot. When she first joined the SCPD, I’d let her slim build, that filled out her uniform nicely, fool me—until she rode with me on a call to Mick’s Bar. Her actions changed my mind. She could handle herself in the field, and she could handle Vince, a typical barroom troublemaker. The expression on his face when she took him down in one smooth swoop was priceless.
Nicole swung into the truck. “What’s going down?”
On the drive, I brought Nicole up to speed on the situation with Lilyan. I curved onto a road leading into an area of older homes. Sidewalks and curbs had never been put in. The streets were paved with dirt more than asphalt. I located the house number and parked on the dusty shoulder. “Nicole, you take the lead.”
Lilyan opened the door, her stressful frown quickly fading into a smile. “Logan. Nicole. Come in.” If we were in the South, I would have called her mannerisms Southern charm.
She tugged the bottom of her sweater over the waist of her jeans. “Logan, you sit right here—this is your chair. I’ll get some refreshments.” She was out of the room before I could answer.
Nicole rolled her eyes. “Your chair? Is she for real?”
I moved to the sofa. “No need to add fuel to her delusions.”
Lilyan returned with a tray and placed it on the table in front of the sofa.
“I have—”
“Lilyan, sit. We need to talk.” My words sounded more abrupt than I intended.
“Okay.” She perched on the opposite end of the sofa.
Nicole pulled out her notebook. Her voice changed to the level one uses to soothe a child. “We need your help.”
“What can I do for you?” Her smile held a poor imitation of sweetness.
“If my information is correct, you attended the quilting session at the church.” Lilyan nodded and Nicole continued. “Maggie’s tires were tampered with. Did you see anything out of the ordinary?”
“Samantha looked upset when she saw me at class.” She shrugged. “She even followed me outside, accusing me of lying. I didn’t want to cause trouble so I left.” She glanced at the floor. “Samantha looked pretty in her white sundress.” She raised her eyes, directing her comment at me.
Nicole lifted her pen from her notepad and looked up. “Lilyan, did you notice anyone in the parking lot as you were leaving?”
“A guy working on Maggie’s red car.”
“Have you been watching Samantha?”
“I went to see her at the bookshop, to let her know how it was between Logan and me. You remember, Logan, I passed you on the way out?” She casually folded her hands.
How could she sit there and keep talking about us? Was it possible she bought into her own lies? Lilyan stood and moved toward the entry.
“One more thing. Can you describe the man you saw working on Maggie’s car?” Nicole kept her voice soft and even.
“Older, I think. Thick glasses. A cap.” She opened the front door and stepped back. We were being dismissed.
“Lilyan.” I blew out an exasperated breath. “We’ve never even had dinner together. I wouldn’t even say we’re friends.”
“It’s okay. Everyone in town knows about us. We don’t need to hide our feelings.”
“There is no us. Why do you persist in making these things up?” My jaw tightened and the tension stiffened in the back of my neck. Words were not penetrating the circuit between her brain and reality.
Lilyan opened the door wider. “You should go.”
We both looked back as I inched away from the curb. Lilyan remained in the doorway. She lifted her hand and waved.
“Wow. Your words ricocheted right off her, as though she spoke a different language.” Nicole tucked her bag next to her feet.
“She’s always been odd—but not like this. Do you know Dr. Jefferies, the psychiatrist at the hospital in Mariner Bay? I’d like his opinion on these absurd claims of Lilyan’s.”
“I’ve heard of him. Good idea. But even with her irrationality, she doesn’t seem dangerous.”
“No, just out of touch with reality.”
“How about her description of the guy she saw around Maggie’s car?” Nicole read the details from her notes.
“Samantha also mentioned the guy wore a cap.” I pulled back into the station’s lot and quickly sent Alec a text. Then nodded to Nicole. “Thanks for going with me. And tell Hank I can be reached on my cell.”
“Will do. I’ll review my notes and write up a report.” Shouldering her bag, she headed inside.
Alec jogged out of the station and replaced Nicole in the passenger seat. He had about a decade on me. We’d worked together ever since I started with the department, which was going on eight years now. He stood five eleven and carried a few extra pounds, although nothing to interfere with his job. Always showed up with his uniform fresh and shoes polished, except he did tend to wear his brown hair on the long side. He and his wife Peggy lived on the edge of town. When had I last asked about his family? “How are Peggy and the kids?”
“Ethan is away at college and Brenda is graduating from high school this year. Peggy had a difficult time when our son first left to attend seminary, but now we’re looking forward to an empty nest this coming year.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Might take a few road trips, even hold hands.” Alec pointed. “There’s the Makenna farm.”
“I haven’t been out here in a while.” I slowed to make the turn, the tires crunching and spitting gravel. Two gnarly looking hounds bounded toward us. “Think they’re friendly?” I breathed easier when John stepped outside and called off his dogs. With caution, I eased out of the truck and Alec crept around the tailgate to where I stood.
“To what do I owe this pleasure? The chief and his deputy.” His voice filled with sarcasm.
“Hey, John. Your granddaughter’s in town.”
“Me and Liz don’t have any grandchildren. Looks like you wasted a trip.”
“Have you been to town recently?” At the risk of losing a hand, I rubbed the head of the dog sniffing my leg.
“Can’t say I have. Betsy, our neighbor, picks up our groceries. Can’t see to drive much anymore.” He opened the screen door and held it by the frame.
“Someone’s been painting defamatory remarks on the bookshop windows.”
“If you’re thinking I had any part in it, you’re wrong. I could never disgrace my daughter’s memory. I hope this person she left it to understands how much Anne loved her bookshop.”
“John, your granddaughter is a special young woman.”
“We don’t have a grandchild—that was decided years ago—let it be. Why dredge up the sins of the dead?” He sliced his hand through the air and turned to go back inside.
The hound’s snarl had us back inside the cab in record time. I moved the gearshift and reversed out of the driveway.
“He’ll be thinking about Anne’s daughter. Have you considered talking to Thelma? Didn’t she grow up with Anne?” He tapped his fingers on his knee.
“Worth a try. Although Sam should be the one to talk to Thelma.”
“Want
me to take your shift?” He momentarily paused the tapping of the tune only audible to his ears.
“I’m good.” I shook my head as I zoomed into the station’s driveway.
“Catch you later.” He climbed out and gave the passenger door a swift push.
In response to my rumbling stomach, I hit Rubi’s for a sandwich. I acknowledged Tiffani, working behind the counter. “Corn beef on rye,” I called out, saving her a trip.
I slid into a booth and looked out the window at the bookshop—glad to see the windows had been cleaned. Other than a few shoppers who seemed curious why the bookshop was closed, nothing looked out of the ordinary. I finished my dinner—still a little early for my shift, but a head start couldn’t hurt.
Against department policy, I used my truck to make my routine rounds. It wouldn’t stand out like the black and whites. I made a couple of drives through Main Street between cruising my normal path. No luck.
The sun had set hours earlier and the shops were closed by the time I made a turn onto Main Street to check out the shops one final time before the end of my shift. About midway down, the bookshop caught in the beam of my headlights—I came to a screeching halt.
Chapter Eight
Anne’s apartment feels like home. Why? Can a mother who carried me under the rhythm of her heartbeat be considered a stranger? Had we bonded during her pregnancy with a link adoption couldn’t sever? Lord, help me believe what Miss Emmy taught me. God’s love never fails. I don’t believe God’s responsible for the deceptions of others, but where does He fit into the overall plan? All I feel is His silence. ~ Journal entry
The polished room held a glow marred only by the dusty bookcase. With a final swallow of my tea, I grabbed a cloth and began working on the top shelf, resisting the urge to peruse each book. I swiped the rag across the cover of a collection of poems by Robert Frost. I flipped it to dust the spine, and a bright pink envelope floated to my feet—my name scrolled across the face of it. Curious, I folded back the flap and removed the card. Happy Sweet Sixteenth sparkled in silver underneath a pink ribbon. I sat on the edge of the sofa and opened the card.
