Look nervous. Be apologetic. Don’t let her see how hopeful you are. “I messed up my car, my cell is dead… I was hoping I could use your phone…”
Willow met her where the drive met the yard and pulled a cell phone from her jacket pocket. The young woman from the article didn’t fit the mental picture of a young woman with a cell phone. “Sure. Here.”
Once she gave her location to the dispatcher, Lynne returned Willow’s phone, thanking her for it. “I can’t believe I did this. I feel so stupid.
“What did you do?”
“I messed up my car, and of all places, in front your house.”
To her surprise, Willow beckoned the woman to follow. “Come in. It’s cold out here. I just need to call the police and let them know that I’m inviting in a stranger. My friend is an officer.” The girl’s teeth chattered as she said, “I don’t usually invite strangers onto my property.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
While Willow dialed her “friend,” Lynne made a show of trying to ignore the conversation. It didn’t sound as if the cop approved. Willow listened and then interrupted something saying, “—just until the car is fixed. I can’t make her stay out there. It’s cold.”
Once the call was disconnected, Willow led her into the house. Her eyes took in the out of date furniture and folksy décor. The girl seemed to be really into Christmas. Fake evergreen was everywhere it could tastefully be draped. Somehow, she managed not to overdo it, but to Lynne’s eyes, she danced awfully close to the line.
The sparsely decorated kitchen had inadequate cupboard space and a shocking lack of granite. Willow put a teakettle on the stove and added a stick of wood. Lynne’s eyes bugged out as she watched the process. Woodstove for cooking and presumably heating—what kind of life was this? Was this how they still managed to have money left after all these years?
Willow mixed a cup of hot chocolate and handed it to her. “Here. Drink it. It’ll warm your hands too.” She turned to pour another cup saying, “Now what was that about my house? I didn’t understand that.”
For a flash of a second, Lynne considered claiming that she just wanted to see the girl in the article, leaving out their relationship. Her desire to know her granddaughter overrode her somewhat skewed scruples. “I drove out here to see your place—that’s all. After reading that article about you and my husband told me what he knew, I just wanted to see. I didn’t intend to come here—talk to you. Not like this.”
“Why would you care about where I live? What do you mean, ‘not like this?’”
“Like I said,” she insisted, “I just wanted to see where you lived and everything—be sure you were ok.” Lynne willed herself to calm down. She sounded panicked—much too emphatic in her protest. Deep breaths. “Then my car started making a weird noise. I pulled over down the road a ways. I didn’t want you to see it.” She ducked her eyes. “I wasn’t ready to meet you.”
Willow seemed surprised—uncertain. “I—”
Reckless, she plunged on again, “I just pulled over about a mile down the road and opened the hood. That’s what my husband always does. It’s always some loose wire or whatever, so I just pulled on them, testing them, but—”
“Excuse me, who are you and what does your broken car have anything to do with me?”
Lynne forced tears to her eyes. “Sorry, I talk a lot when I’m nervous. I—my name is Lynne. I don’t want to make trouble—really. I just wanted to see where you live. Her eyes roamed the room, lingering on the hutch. “You have a nice place here. I’m glad. I pictured you living in—well, I’m glad.”
The girl’s confusion gave way to irritation. Before Lynne could find a way to distract her, Willow said, “Why should you care?”
She set her cup down and rezipped her jacket. “I’ll go. I didn’t mean to meet you—to come. Steve said I shouldn’t come out here and I didn’t listen. I’ve ruined everything.” She couldn’t have timed the tear that fell down her cheeks better if she tried—and she did. Her heart sank as she saw suspicion on Willow’s face.
“What is your last name?”
She inched toward the dining room. “My name is Solari—Lynne Solari. I just found out who you are the other day.” As she pulled it open, she added, her voice choking, “My son—I am so sorry about Stevie.”
As the woman rushed from her house, Willow stood frozen in the kitchen, wondering what she should do. Chad’s cruiser tires crunched on the drive, soothing her agitated nerves. Chad would know what to do.
He burst through the door looking as if he expected to find someone dead on the floor. “Wha—where—why—”
“She left.”
“I saw. Why is she crying?”
“Maybe she feels bad.”
“Is there a reason she should?” He stepped into the dining room to watch the woman.
“Her son is—was—Mother’s—her son—she is Lynne Solari, Steve’s mother.”
“And she came here expecting you to welcome her? What kind of nonsense is that?” Livid, he stormed across the house, ready to confront the woman.
Willow stopped him. “No, she says she just wanted to see where I lived—see the place—and her car broke down.” She frowned. “I don’t believe her, though. I think she wanted to meet me and made sure I couldn’t refuse.”
“Despicable.”
“Perhaps,” she said, “but I think it’s also understandable. Her only child is dead, her only grandchild has every reason to avoid her, so she makes up an excuse. Wrong, but hardly nefarious.”
“So why did you kick her out?”
“I didn’t. She just left. Kind of surprised me. I mean, why would you go to all that trouble and then just leave?”
He stared out the window before asking, “Mind if I call her back. I know Fairbury tow service. It takes an hour this time of year.”
“Sure. I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”
Chad left and returned with Lynne a few minutes later. The woman’s tears flowed freely and her words made no sense. Exasperated, Willow mouthed a desperate request for him to “do something.”
“Mrs. Solari—”
Sniffling, the woman shook her head. “Lynne. No one calls me missus except Steve’s office manager. She only does it to make me sound old.”
“So you wanted to meet Willow…”
“I didn’t know if I did or not, but I wanted to see where she lived,” the woman corrected.
“That’s not true, and we both know it. You wanted to meet me and found a way to do it—probably with your husband’s help.”
“I didn’t—”
Willow closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried again. “Mrs. Solari… I have never owned or driven a car, so I don’t really know how they work. But basic common sense says you don’t pull a bunch of wires out of their place simply because you wonder if one is lose enough to make the car not work.” Before Lynne could protest, Willow continued. “Someone as obviously wealthy as you are would have one of those little car charger things like Chad does for his phone, so I don’t buy the dead phone story.”
“I forgot it.”
“Where?”
Lynne shrugged. “Kitchen counter—maybe the mudroom. I don’t know.”
Sighing, Willow stood, grabbed Chad’s chocolate mug, and refilled it. “If you’d said it was another car, I might have believed you, but it doesn’t make sense to remove a car charger from a car if you’re not putting it in another one.”
Lynne Solari started to protest again but broke down and told the entire story. She confessed her husband’s plan, their grief over their son’s behavior, and the eagerness she’d felt when she realized that there was a grandchild. “Of course, I knew you wouldn’t want to meet me. Who would? But I’m not Stevie. I didn’t hurt your mother. I couldn’t believe it when Steve told me—”
“Now that’s hard to believe, Mrs. Solari,” Chad protested. “A son like that, murdered in a drug deal, several civil cases against him—”
“I know. Most of
it, they kept from me, but I’m not as dumb as they think I am. I just didn’t know it was that bad. I knew he was into drugs and he was a bit of a womanizer, but I never imagined—” She looked sick just thinking of it. “I would have thrown him out of the house if I knew he was capable of that.”
Chad’s cell phone rang. He answered, listened for a moment, and disconnected. “Wade is over at your car. I’ll drive you to him.”
Lynne glanced back at Willow as she turned to leave the room. “I hope someday you’ll forgive us. I’d like to be friends at least. You’re nice. You knew I lied and deceived you, but you were still nice. Thank you.”
At the door, Willow paused before she opened it. “I can’t say it’ll ever happen, but if I get comfortable with the idea of getting to know you, I know how to contact your husband.” She waited for Lynne’s teary eyes to meet hers before she added, “If you don’t hear from me, I’d rather not hear from you.”
“That’s reasonable. Thanks. I think you must have had a wonderful mother. I wish I could have known her.”
An unmistakable coolness entered Willow’s voice. “That would never have been possible.”
Lynne stared at the door, shocked, as it closed in her face. She glanced at Chad. “Wow.”
With a grim smile, Chad led her down the steps to his cruiser. “That’s the general consensus when people meet her. Inevitably they say, ‘wow.’” He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Solari—”
“Lynne—”
With stronger emphasis, Chad tried again. “Mrs. Solari, I have to warn you. If you try to contact Willow without first hearing from her, I will help her file and will personally enforce a restraining order. Don’t put her through it.”
“I won’t. I know,” she began sounding resigned to a fate worse than a hangnail, “I know I seem like a pampered and spoiled woman who expects that she can have anything she wants if her husband is willing to buy it. I know that. But if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can buy people, but you cannot buy relationships.”
Chad let her out next to her car. “I’ll be praying for you, Mrs. Solari. I’m very sorry for your losses. All of them.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
Willow sat curled on the couch stitching something. Fabric pieces littered the living room, sketches covered the coffee table, and small pieces of fabric sat in little straight rows waiting to be reassembled into Willow’s chosen pattern. Chad had helped carry the fabric down from the craft room and chucked at the chagrin she still showed when she remembered how she’d ordered so much, especially considering that she didn’t know what she’d do with it.
“I guess I’ll go get that loom and take a look at it,” he commented but Willow didn’t hear or acknowledge if he did.
Halfway up the stairs, Willow stopped him. “Chad, what do you wear caroling?”
“Warm clothes. Several layers. Very warm clothes. Gloves. And a warm jacket with warm—”
“I get it. No miniskirts or halter tops.”
In the attic, Chad saw the drapes of plastic over everything and smiled. She’d used it, even when she was mad at him. One shelf along a wall under a window held an array of toys. Ignoring the side of the attic where Willow said the loom was, he pulled the plastic away from the shelf and smiled. It was a glimpse of her childhood. An old View Master sat next to a lidded decoupaged box of disks. He passed it up and unrolled Raggedy Ann from her tissue wrapping and then found her pal Andy in another package.
Roller skates surprised him. They were the older quad style, but from the looks of them, very worn. There was nowhere to skate except for awkward turns in the barn. Surely, Kari wouldn’t let Willow skate along the highway. Another thought occurred to him so he folded back the patchwork of area rugs, shaking his head at the sight before him. Both an oval and a straight line marked the floor. She’d skated in the attic on cold winter days.
The cold urged him to hurry with his errand and get out of there, so Chad put everything but the View Master disks back as he found them and went in search of the box of loom pieces. While Willow hand pieced geometric shapes of fabric together into one beautiful piece, Chad lumbered downstairs carrying the box. “It doesn’t look too bad really. I don’t know what they’re supposed to look like, but to me, it looks like only one piece is actually broken—the rest just kind of came apart when that piece broke.”
“That sounds like what Mother thought, but she was too upset to look at it.”
Chad carried the box out to his truck, wrapped a tarp over it, and anchored it snugly against the cab. A glance at his watch told him they had an hour before time to milk, and the last thing he wanted to do was watch Willow sew fabric pieces together. If he just sat there, she’d want him to read. Maybe if he got a book and started reading before she noticed…
However, the sight off a lumpy looking Mary on a donkey with Joseph leading the way killed all attempts at sneaking a book. “Why are Joseph and Mary stuck in the library?”
“They’re riding to the stable. They started on the landing and work their way down every day.”
“Hmm makes sense. Hey, does your mom have a book on looms in here?”
Her voice trailed absently from the couch. “Upstairs. Craft room on the top shelf to the right.”
Chad chose to ignore that not only did she know where it was but on exactly what shelf and what side of the shelf. Thirty minutes later, he stretched and waved the book at Willow. “Mind if I take this home so I can look at the pictures while I’m working?”
“Sure.”
The clock ticked for several minutes before the silence drove him to speech. No wonder Willow felt smothered alone at night. “You know, I remember when I used to dread coming out here.”
“I can too.”
“What? No, I mean at first, I didn’t really want to come out here. I was a bit perturbed with the Lord for ‘making me’ be a friend. I thought you were going to be so needy—” he explained.
“I know.”
Chad remembered a conversation. “You called me on it that first night.”
“Yes.”
“But unfortunately, I felt that way for a long time.”
“Until sometime around when you put in Mother’s headstone. I’ve seen glimmers since then, but they’re not the same.”
Stammering, Chad confronted her. “If you knew—I mean, that first night you were irritated.”
“That first night, you were a stranger, and I felt patronized. Now I know it’s just a part of your character to deny yourself to serve someone else.”
“Well,” he retorted, “You thought I was clingy at first.”
“You were. You were so sure I couldn’t make it alone. I had a few bad days, and you decided I wasn’t able to function without you.”
Their playful banter continued through the afternoon, through dinner, and even down the stairs as Willow dressed. Remembering his admonition for lots of layers, Willow rummaged through her drawers and pulled on every article of clothing she could squeeze on. Then, remembering her mother’s clothes were a little larger, she slid her mother’s closet door open and pulled out a few pairs of overalls and a pair of her coveralls. She added all she could and then layered her mother’s sweaters. The scent of Kari lingered just enough to taunt her with her loss. Blinking back tears, Willow ran a quick brush through her hair and tried to hurry downstairs. She nearly broke her neck waddling.
“There, think I’ll be warm enough?”
Chad turned from loading the stove and shook his head laughing. “Only you—”
“You said—” she protested unbuttoning two cardigans, peeling off four sweaters, and stepping out of the coveralls. “I’m not even down to my clothes yet.”
“If you hurry, we can go up and down a few of the best streets and see Christmas lights first.”
Waddling stiff-legged up the steps, Willow pulled sweaters off as she climbed. He heard thumps and bangs as she tried to put everything away quickly. “Willow, just put them away when you get hom
e!”
“Great idea” she fired back and shuffled downstairs carrying a couple of sweaters, three pairs of socks, and a pair of flannel lined coveralls. “Just how cold is cold? Flannel lined jeans, thermal unders and a sweater? Add another sweater? Cardigan too? How many pairs of socks? Oh, and should I bring these just in case?” she added waving the coveralls in his face.
“Wear your sweater and your coat. Bring a cardigan in case we go inside, you can warm up slowly. Gloves and hat. Double socks.”
She pulled her boots on over her doubled socks and promptly pulled off the second pair. “They’re warm enough. This’ll drive me crazy. I have hot feet.”
“Maybe we can share. You take one of my icy ones and I’ll take one of your hot feet.”
She grinned, tying on her boot again. “I remember when I was nine. I had a nightmare and crawled into bed with Mother. She put her icy feet on me, and I jumped right back out of bed. I thought the nightmare was better than her feet.” As an afterthought she added, “She snored too.”
“We’d better never get stranded together in an Alaskan avalanche.”
“Why?” The thought progression escaped her mental bridges.
“I snore and have cold feet. We’d both freeze to death in our individualized snowdrifts.”
“Your feet would be covered by shoes, and I think imminent death might tempt me to stay a little closer—even if you did snore.”
“I’ll hold you to that if we’re ever caught in an Alaskan avalanche.”
Willow winked as she whipped her ruana around her shoulders and over her coat. “I’ll even agree to a Swiss avalanche too.”
“You’re too kind.
“Oh! That one is amazing! All of those blue lights on a white house—” Entranced, Willow begged him to slow down.
“But the pink bow on the door? What was with that?”
“Maybe they didn’t want it to look like Independence Day with a red, white, and blue house!”
“I guess. Oh, I just remembered a house over on Larkspur. It drives the Chief crazy. They’ve got enough lights to rival the Las Vegas strip.”
Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 2 Page 24
