by B. Groves
Her eyes widened as they descended the stairs and the smoke dissipated in front of her.
She took a deep breath without the smoke invading her lungs. Mac tripped a few times on the stairs, but he was strong enough not to fall.
David was running around in circles as they reached the second floor.
He pointed to the balcony and said, “There. They will help you.”
Claire looked and found the whole back of the house consumed in flames. They licked the wood with sickening crackling noises, and the flames were moving closer by the second.
She wanted to break down and sob knowing her legacy was destroyed, but right now their lives were more important.
She let Mac lean on her again and David skipped down the rest of the hallway like he didn’t have a care in the world. The smoke cleared with each step he took towards the balcony.
Claire’s head was pounding, she thought her heart would explode out of her chest with each passing step and her lungs burned like the fire surrounding them. Dizziness swept through her, but she needed to make it to that balcony.
They were only feet away. Claire gasped when the doors swung open on their own and David stood off to the side to let them through.
Mac was hacking by then, he kept closing his eyes, and going limp in her grasp.
“Not now. Don’t pass out on me. We’re so close,” Claire said, urging him on.
Mac nodded and sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled with coughing fits. With one last show of strength, Mac and Claire were at the doors.
Claire screamed for help and caught everyone’s attention. She would never forget the shocked look on the first responder’s faces as they appeared on the balcony.
Claire turned her head and knew this would be the last time she’d ever see her brother.
He grinned at her, and said, “I love you, Claire.”
“I love you, David. Thank you,” she whispered as he faded in front of her.
Mac and Claire collapsed onto the balcony and waited for the first responders to scramble and rescue them.
Claire tried to hold back her tears, as she was loaded into the ambulance that day.
It was only minutes after Mac and Claire were rescued that the house collapsed into itself from the fire. She’d never forget the sound the house made when it collapsed. It could have been worse, they could have been trapped inside.
She was grateful for her life, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t mourn all she had lost.
Claire later felt something stabbing at her hip. She reached into her dirty pocket and found the butterfly brooch along with the letter of confession from her grandmother.
Claire never saw David’s spirit again. She knew deep down in her heart that David moved on to another life.
38.
C laire placed the lilies on top of the smooth white casket and held her hand there while she said one last goodbye to her brother.
The service for David Wescott was over, and the crowd broke up behind her. Claire welcomed the condolences, shook people’s hands and accepted embraces from fellow mourners. The preacher came over and offered her words of comfort, but all Claire wanted was to watch as David’s remains were properly laid to rest inside the mausoleum. Finally, her family was all together.
She pulled her hand away and dabbed her eyes with the fresh tissue from her jacket pocket.
She tightened her black suede jacket from the freezing wind that came from the mountains. She was glad she picked out a heavy cotton dress with a long skirt to protect her legs from the weather, although she tried not to shiver.
The police were there dressed in their ceremonial uniforms with other first responders who showed up.
Claire appreciated their support and sentiment as the case of David Westcott came to a close.
Sue’s DNA had been found on David’s remains, proving she was the murderer of the young boy. The coroner determined that he died from blunt force trauma to the head, and after six weeks, his remains were released to Claire for burial.
The town reeled in shock since Sue was a respected member of the community and the exposure of her double life was another surprise for them to grasp.
Claire turned around when the mayor of Lingate and his staff paid their final condolences and walked away.
It took forever, and Claire was exhausted by the time the crowd cleared and everyone had left the cemetery.
Claire stayed and watched as the cemetery staff interred her brother into his final resting place and sealed the crypt.
Claire wasn’t alone inside the mausoleum. She turned to see Mac standing at the door patiently waiting for her to finish her goodbyes.
He still walked with a limp from being shot in the calf, but he was very lucky that Sue hadn’t done more damage. The bullet missed the artery and bone, although Mac complained of numbness in his leg ever since he was released from the hospital. If the bullet had hit anywhere else, Mac may have faced an amputation.
It had been tense between them at first, not only because of their involvement in the case, but Mac had been upset that she lied to him and put both their lives in danger.
She couldn’t blame him. What she did was stupid. She wanted her own brand of justice and she had gotten it but she was paying the price in other ways.
They had a long talk about discussed it and Mac forgave her, but she wasn’t ready to forgive herself and it was affecting their relationship.
He tried talking it over with her, but Claire decided it was best she dealt with her past on her own.
She thought about the words he said to her a few days ago and it gave her some comfort. “You are nothing like them,” Mac said. “Nothing. You had to make a choice and even if you didn’t pull that trigger, it wouldn’t have been wrong or right. Yes, it was wrong of you to lie to me. It was wrong of you not to report what you found. You found your brother’s remains and kept it hidden for two days. You shouldn’t have confronted Sue on your own. It was stupid, but even with all that, you are nothing like them.”
“You say that, but I see it every single time I look in the mirror,” Claire said. “I see them. I see them staring back at me as if they are mocking me.”
Claire tasted the bitterness of her words. It was true. This was the battle she was fighting inside. She thought she was no better than her aunt and her grandmother now. She was a killer… just like them.
She smiled at Mac as he leaned against the door frame waiting for her. He called David his little hero and teared up when the choir in the church sang “Amazing Grace.”
Claire set the rest of the bouquet of lilies down in front of the crypt and walked over to Mac.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice a small echo inside the mausoleum.
“There’s nowhere else I would want to be today,” he said. “Besides, thank you.”
Claire’s eyebrows drew together. “For what?”
“Julie asked who put that huge bouquet of flowers on Jacob’s grave,” Mac answered with a smile. “I said a good friend.”
Claire smiled and nodded. “It’s the least I could do. I took you away from that moment.”
Claire felt a warm hand grab hers and squeeze. “You didn’t. Now that I know what’s beyond this life, I’m sure Jacob would understand.”
Claire smiled again and said, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”
Mac inhaled a deep breath and shifted on his feet. He looked down and then back to Claire meeting her gaze.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Mac said.
“I’m sorry. I need more time…” Claire explained. “I’m still trying to pick up the pieces of my life. They managed to salvage a few items and pictures from the demolition of Kinsey House, but most of it was destroyed. I have to figure out what I want to do.”
“I know, but like I told you to before, you are nothing like them, Claire.”
Claire squeezed Mac’s hand back and then let it go. She had a lot to work out. She was living i
n Jack’s house while authorities waited for his case to go in front of a judge. He insisted she move in and she was happy to because she didn’t want Jack to be alone while he dealt with the death of his daughter and the impending case against him.
Mac let go of her hand and turned to walk across the cemetery leaving Claire to her thoughts inside the mausoleum.
***
Two days later, Claire sat in Jack’s favorite recliner while the TV blared in the background and she worked on her new laptop.
She was scanning the internet but her mind wasn’t absorbing anything she was reading. She had so many thoughts running through her head, like what she would do with the property, what she would do with Sue’s remains. She was the last living family member, and the remains would go to her.
The hurt and the betrayal Sue caused were still fresh in her mind and she’d been putting off about how she wanted to deal with Sue’s body, her assets, and the coffee shop.
Claire needed to deal with all this and wondered when she’d have a moment to mourn her family.
The coffee shop. What would she do with it? Sell it? Most likely. She didn’t even want to go near there.
Claire looked away from the computer screen and stared outside for the longest time.
A crazy thought ran through her head.
Or did she want to try her hand at owning her own business? She didn’t know when she’d be ready to pick up her keyboard and start typing away a story again, so this might be the change and inspiration she had been searching for.
39.
C laire emptied out the fryer as her shift ended in Sweet Spot Bakery and Coffee Company. She cleaned it and refilled it for the next shift.
She sealed the container and rolled it out to the spot where the oil would be picked up and properly disposed of near the dumpster.
She wiped her hands on a clean spot on her apron. She looked down and grinned from the flour and powdered sugar crusted on the white fabric.
She walked back into the kitchen passing the massive machines like the industrial-sized mixer and over to the stainless-steel sink to wash her hands from the sticky ingredients.
She wrinkled her nose at the smell of fried oil that hung in the air. She swore up and down the oil permeated every pore of her skin, making her take long showers and scrub her skin raw whenever she baked. She’d find tiny droplets clinging to her skin and hair. It would be days before her sense of smell returned to normal and her sinuses cleared.
Her new recipe—honey, plum tarts—were almost ready for tasting. She hoped they went over well with the hungry Sunday crowd they were expecting this early fall day.
There had been a huge church festival in town, and they were expecting lots of business today.
Claire had worked the night shift for a week now since her baker had been out sick with a terrible cold.
John was expected back tomorrow night. She missed him being there. He was her best baker and willing to work nights so he could watch his kids during the day while his wife worked.
That was fine with Claire. This was part of running your own business. It was a lot more than bossing around a bunch of people.
The timer went off and her assistant manager—Carol— appeared in the doorway excited about the new menu item.
Claire smiled and pulled them out of the oven and the two women talked about the upcoming day as they waited for the tarts to cool.
“Go home and get some sleep. We’ll have it under control,” Carol reassured her.
Carol—a woman in her late forties, who didn’t look a day over twenty-five—would run the front of the house, and Jack Carpenter would keep up with the accounting for the day.
Claire glanced at the clock. It was only 6:15 AM. Her day shift baker—Eric—would saunter in and start his shift at any moment.
Claire loved her staff and her business.
Her first instinct had been to sell it. She didn’t need any more reminders about the aunt she struggled to forgive, but after some soul-searching, she decided taking over where her aunt left off would help her heal.
Claire didn’t understand what she was getting into by running her own business, but the rewards outweighed the heartaches.
It was eleven months later, and Claire was attending culinary and business classes at the local university while learning how to run the place through trial and error.
Jack volunteered to help with the accounting and payroll, and none of her staff left her high and dry. Everyone who’d been under Sue’s employ came together for her and helped her learn how this place operated after the investigation was completed and Claire was able to re-open it.
She spent hours upon hours learning how to bake, make specialty coffees, accounting, marketing, scheduling, payroll, and hiring or firing.
It was overwhelming at times, but she became more efficient as each day passed. She learned how to keep a schedule so she could run the business and attend her classes without falling over from exhaustion.
“I know,” Claire said to Carol. “Make sure you tell the girls to push these today. Samples, samples, samples.”
Carol grinned. “You got it.”
Claire grabbed her chef’s knife and cut into a tart. She and Carol tasted it and both women moaned.
“The pepper is perfect,” Carol commented between bites.
Claire nodded enjoying the sweet, tart, and spicy taste.
“How much?” Carol asked.
“Do the special,” Claire answered.
Carol nodded and started cutting up some tarts for samples.
Claire scheduled extra help for today and her morning crew was filing in one by one.
Claire gave them a pep talk of sorts, thanking them for their time, while Carol went back out to the front to service a customer.
She gave Eric an update and handed him the recipe for the tarts.
“We should make those pumpkin butter cakes again,” Eric commented. “They sold out in two hours last week.”
“I agree. They are on the schedule again for tomorrow,” Claire smiled. “This is a Sunday special. Also, we’ll go over the Christmas menu this week.”
Claire liked Eric. He could be high-strung at times, but he taught her everything he knew about baking. She learned how to reel him in when he got upset if something didn’t go his way.
Eric nodded, hung the recipe on the shelf above the open workspace, and started sifting the flour into the mixing bowl.
Claire took a deep breath. She knew she needed to go home and sleep for a few hours. Let them do their jobs. Carol had the shop under control.
When Claire first took over the bakery, people were coming and visiting in droves. That’s because Claire was the main attraction. It had been all over the news about the sad story of Kinsey House and Claire had attracted people from all over the world.
She was cordial to those people but refused to answer questions. Some had been loyal to her aunt and refused to believe what she had done all those years ago. A friend of her aunt Sue came in and berated Claire in front of dozens of customers, calling her a snake and a liar.
May and Bishop happened to stop in that day and the couple came to Claire’s defense with the woman. Claire appreciated their ongoing friendship and hired them to take care of Jack’s home because she’d been so busy.
That was the only incident Claire ever had. Eventually, the novelty of Claire Westcott and the Kinsey family wore off, and business returned to normal.
Claire smiled when Jack hobbled in, supported by his cane. Helping her run this business gave Jack a purpose to keep moving forward despite all the tragedy in his life.
She moved into Jack’s house after Kinsey House burned down on his insistence and stayed there ever since.
They worked together to keep Sweet Spot Bakery and Coffee Company alive.
Claire came home one night and they talked about how Jack had been used by Rose for so many years.
“It’s not that I doubt she loved me,” he said. “It’s t
he fact that love came with a price.”
Jack drove to the police station the night of the fire and confessed he helped Rose and his daughter cover up David’s murder.
He was arrested, booked on multiple charges from being an accessory to murder to the destruction of evidence, to planting false evidence. Jack had been looking at 20 years or more in a federal prison, but it would be his advanced age and his stellar reputation when he was a cop that would ultimately save him.
At his arraignment, Jack didn’t even hesitate when he pleaded guilty to all charges against his attorney’s wishes. He didn’t want a trial, he just wanted his punishment.
About two months after Claire’s Aunt Sue died, Jack was handed his punishment after the prosecutor and the defense attorney talked it over. Jack agreed and was given time served and probation the rest of his life.
“Good morning,” Claire said to Jack.
“My neck hurts,” Jack grumbled in greeting.
Claire rolled her eyes, and Eric turned away with a grin. That was a typical Jack greeting.
“There’s this thing in your bedroom,” Claire said. “It’s called a bed. You should try it occasionally, then you wouldn’t have neck pain.”
Jack stopped before heading out to the shop to glare at her, but a smile tugged at his lips.
“I like my recliner. It’s comfortable,” he argued.
Claire shook her head, and Jack continued on to grab his cup of coffee. He never hindered anyone doing their job. He would get his coffee, talk to the regulars, and stay in the office to do the paperwork. Claire appreciated his help. He wouldn’t accept compensation for helping her, all he wanted was his rolls.
He’d turned into another grandfather for Claire to love over the last year.
Claire turned to finish up the rest of her work with Carol hounding her about going home.
“I know, I know,” Claire said.
She couldn’t help it, she worried about when she wasn’t there to help with busy times.
Besides, it was her times alone that it hit her the hardest.
Claire was never charged with any crimes although they threatened her with obstruction of justice when she confessed she found her brother’s body and didn’t report it right away.
