by Ellery Adams
Taking the hint, Jed said good night to Nora and issued a soft command to Henry Higgins.
Nora watched the foursome walk away, their shadows stretching out behind them. She wasn’t sure exactly what had just happened between her and Jed, but she felt like something had been lost.
* * *
At home, she took a quick shower and put on a pair of clean jeans and a gray cardigan. Estella would tell her to add a pop of color, but Nora was in a gray mood. Her mood worsened when she realized that she hadn’t offered to contribute any food to their impromptu supper.
She called Hester before starting up her moped.
“I didn’t make anything for tonight,” she said.
Hester told her not to worry. “I picked up some Perrier for you,” she added. “I noticed that you’ve been avoiding alcohol lately, which is cool. Sometimes, a cinnamon roll and a good book are better than booze, anyway.”
“You’re very wise for your tender years,” Nora said, brightening a little.
Hester laughed. “Tell that to Jasper. He’s so worried about me being alone at my house that he wants to park his patrol car in my driveway and sleep there.”
“Why doesn’t he just spend the night in your bed? What better protection could you get?”
After a brief pause, Hester said, “Um, he’s on duty.”
Nora had a feeling that this wasn’t the whole truth, but she didn’t press the issue.
“I have to drop something off at the inn, but I’ll see you soon,” she said, and hung up.
The moment she pulled into a parking space in front of the inn, Bo and Georgia materialized on the front porch. The couple appeared to be waiting for Nora.
Their grim expressions contrasted with the warm light shining through the inn’s windows and the perky pink and purple phlox lining the front path. Nora quickened her pace, anxious to learn why the Gentrys had taken a sentinel position on the porch.
“Hi,” she said, glancing first at Georgia and then at Bo.
Georgia returned the greeting while her husband managed a brief wave. Neither of them smiled.
“We’re sorry,” said Georgia. “But if you came to see Patty or Lou, this isn’t a good time.”
Nora immediately thought of her broken window. Had the inn been targeted too? “Is everything okay?”
“It’s Micah.” Georgia laced her fingers together and squeezed hard enough to cause the veins on the back of her hands to swell. “He left yesterday to go on a hike. We all saw him at breakfast, but none of us noticed if he came back. We don’t eat dinner together and everyone’s busy during the day, so breakfast is the only time we all really see each other. Bo and I spent the day at the folk museum. That’s why we didn’t know that Micah never came back.”
Looking grim, Bo picked up the narrative. “Lou and Patty were working, so they didn’t realize it either. Not until they knocked on his door late this morning. When he didn’t answer, they went in to tidy up. They saw that he’d taken his hiking gear but had left other things behind.”
Nora thought of the young man with the soulful brown eyes she’d bumped into on the stairs. Patty and Lou had described Micah as humble, sweet, and shy. He was a modern-day Thoreau—searching for life’s greater meaning by immersing himself in nature.
“I’m surprised he didn’t hit the Trail before now,” said Nora. “Doesn’t he plan to hike the whole thing? That takes months.”
Georgia nodded. “He wanted to repay Lou and Patty for their kindness before he set out again.” She gestured at the flowers. “He planted all of these. He’s also aerated, seeded, and fertilized the lawn. Yesterday, over breakfast, Patty told Micah that he’d done more than enough and should hit the Trail when he was ready.”
“Maybe he took her advice and continued on his way,” said Nora.
“According to Lou and Patty, he wouldn’t have left the items they found in his room. I guess Micah told them that they were important to him. I don’t know what they are, but Lou and Patty are very upset. They’ve called the sheriff and are expecting him to show up any second now.”
There was nothing Nora could do but say that she hoped Micah was okay and that someone would hear from him soon.
“You don’t have to tell Lou and Patty that I stopped by,” she added. “They have enough on their minds, and I was just saying hello.”
Georgia unclasped her hands. “Thanks for understanding. Bo and I hope to see you tomorrow. Sheldon told us that you have some collectible books and we can’t resist old things. I especially like books that have been signed and dated by their owner. I love those personal links to the past. Those links can define us.”
Nora gave the other woman a friendly smile. “I can already think of a few books you’d really like. See you tomorrow.”
* * *
A few minutes later, Nora pulled up to Hester’s house, a pale pink Victorian-style cottage with an abundance of latticework, gingerbread trim, and board-and-batten shutters painted a whipped cream white. Purple hydrangea bushes and beds of spring flowers completed the fairy-tale look. The cottage reminded Nora of a teacake.
Stepping into Hester’s cottage was like entering her bakery. It was warm and cozy and always smelled good. Tonight, it was too quiet. The sounds of laughter, conversation, and the clank of flatware were absent. Hester, Estella, and June were gathered around the kitchen table, and Nora could tell by their frightened expressions that something dreadful had happened.
“You were right to warn Estella and me,” Hester said as soon as she saw Nora. “Guess it was my turn.”
Estella patted the empty chair next to her. “You’d better sit down.”
After Nora was seated, Hester pointed at the sink. “There’s a dead bird in my sink. The string I use to tie my bakery boxes is wrapped around its neck. I found the bird in my mailbox.”
Nora pressed her fingers against her lips to keep an exclamation of shock from escaping.
Another bird!
“No sense holding anything back,” June told Nora. “We all freaked out together. Go on and let it out if you need to.”
“Jesus,” Nora whispered. “When did you find it?”
“Five minutes ago. I already made our soup and salad and I have a fresh baguette keeping warm in the oven, so supper was pretty much handled. I knew I had plenty of time to get the mail. June and Estella had just pulled up to the curb when I opened the mailbox. They heard me scream.”
“I’m so sorry, Hester.”
Estella covered Nora’s hand with her own, as if telling her that none of this was her fault. Nora shot Estella a grateful look and turned back to Hester.
“You called Andrews?”
June answered before Hester could. “Not only is her man on his way, but he came by during his lunch break. Turns out he hid a few cameras around the place, just in case his woman was the next target. The camera in the birdfeeder was recording the front yard. If we’re lucky, we’ll find out who this sicko is before our soup gets cold.”
Andrews arrived with a squeal of tires. The women heard him slam his car door shut. They heard his tread on the gravel path leading to the kitchen door. He entered the house and, without saying a word, pulled Hester out of her chair and took her in his arms. He murmured into her hair and held her as if he wanted to shield her from the world’s hurts.
That’s what love looks like, Nora thought. She was happy that Hester had found such a good man.
After a moment, Hester pulled away and led Andrews to the sink.
As he stared down at the bird, his fists curled and uncurled. Finally, he clenched them so hard that his knuckles turned the color of bread dough.
“Let’s find out who did this, so I can pay him a visit,” Andrews said, his eyes on Hester. “If I plug my phone into your laptop, we can watch the feed on your screen.” He glanced at the rest of the women. “It’s probably the same person who targeted you two, and Ms. Sadler could have been next. That makes this very much your business.”
Everyone relocated to the living room. June joined Hester and Andrews on the sofa while Nora and Estella pulled their wing chairs closer to the coffee table.
Andrews connected his phone, pushed an icon, and logged into an account. The screen flashed and, a second later, four views of Hester’s yard appeared on screen. Andrews used the laptop’s keyboard to select the birdfeeder view. Next, he clicked the play button.
At first, the feed moved in real time. They all watched in nervous anticipation until Andrews grew impatient and pressed another button. The feed moved twice as fast, and they saw a man walking a dog, a kid on a bike, and a woman jogging. No one stopped at Hester’s mailbox. Now and then, a car would pass by. During the course of the afternoon, the only person to touch Hester’s mailbox was the mailman. He opened the door, shoved in a stack of envelopes, and moved on.
“If the bird had been in the mailbox, he would’ve reacted,” Estella said. “It must have been empty then.”
Andrews pointed at the time stamp. “It’s only three forty-seven. Let’s keep going.”
At twenty past five, the daylight had lost its vitality. It wasn’t dark, but there was a softening of the light. A subtle surrender.
Four minutes later, a man appeared on the screen.
His T-shirt was white. Not the dazzling white of bleached sheets hanging out to dry. The front was dingy, and it was soiled under the arms and around the collar. A baseball hat was pulled low over the man’s brow, throwing his face in shadow.
“It’s him,” Hester said.
The rain monster, Nora thought, watching the man place the bird into the mailbox. Then, he closed the door and walked away.
The camera could only follow him so far. No one could tell if he turned left or right at the end of Hester’s block.
Andrews rewound the footage and zoomed in on the man’s face. He hit the pause button and glared at the image filling the screen.
It was impossible to distinguish the man’s features. His hat hid his eyes and nose. No one could tell if he had freckles or a scar. Nora stared at the cruel curve of his lips and shuddered.
“That’s him. The man in the white T-shirt,” she said to Andrews.
The deputy didn’t look away from the screen. “I’m going to find him.” He put his hand on Hester’s. “I won’t sleep until I do.”
Chapter 13
In order to see the birds it is necessary to be part of the silence.
—Robert Lynd
Though he searched for the better part of the night, Andrews didn’t find the man in the white T-shirt. After sharing the bad news with the Secret, Book, and Scone Society, he entreated them to avoid being alone, especially after dark.
Shortly after receiving this warning, June called Nora.
“I’m off today. Should we take a kindness tote to Marie? She’s been on my mind.”
Nora leapt at the chance. “Anything to avoid thinking about the man Andrews can’t find.”
While waiting for June to arrive, Nora packed the tote with a box of cookies and a loaf of bread from the Gingerbread House, a relaxation spa package from Estella, a hand-knit blanket from June, and a selection of books on grief.
Choosing books for Marie hadn’t been easy. Usually, Nora could assemble titles for the grieving without much difficulty. But the suddenness of Danny’s death, coupled with Marie’s pregnancy, complicated the process. Nora kept taking books off the shelf, only to replace them an hour or two later. These exchanges continued until she felt like half of her inventory had traveled between the shelves and the checkout counter.
In the end, she decided on two nonfiction books and three novels. The nonfiction books were geared toward young widows. The image on the cover of the first book, Widows Wear Stilettos, reminded Nora of Marie’s strength. The second book, I’m Grieving as Fast as I Can, took an honest look at the emotional grenade created by an untimely death. One of the things Nora liked most about this book was its short passages and chapters. Marie didn’t have the energy to wade through a twenty-page chapter. Not yet, anyway.
Finding the right novels was also a challenge. Nora didn’t want to shove themes of healing or remarrying down Marie’s throat. Marie was light years away from even considering either idea. In Marie’s mind, there would never be healing—only existing. Her love for Danny was still as real as it had been on the day of his death. She couldn’t imagine loving someone else. The very thought would be a betrayal to his memory and to the memory of their shared life.
Nora wanted Marie to use fiction as a distraction. A temporary escape. She also wanted subtle messages of hope to curl around Marie’s shoulders like a warm shawl, which is why she packed up Dream a Little Dream by Susan Elizabeth Phillips and LaVyrle Spenser’s Morning Glory. Both books featured Southern settings and widows with children. Nora chose these books because they would invite Marie into another world—a romantic, dreamy world—for a little while.
The last book Nora had added was The Love of My Life by Louise Douglas. Like Marie, the novel’s main character loses her husband soon after discovering her pregnancy. Like Marie, the main character doesn’t have close ties to family. It was Nora’s hope that a meaningful line or passage from Douglas’s book would encourage Marie to reach out to someone—whether that person was a member of her family or Danny’s—and that her attempt to connect would be accepted.
In addition to the goodies contributed by the Secret, Book, and Scone Society, Andrews had taken up a collection at the station and used the money to buy a grocery store gift card. June had also passed the hat at the thermal pools. She’d collected enough cash to buy Marie a pregnancy massage package as well as a prenatal gift basket filled with vitamins, creams, and snacks.
With so many goodies to deliver, Nora was grateful for June’s car. She was even more grateful for her company. Leaving Miracle Books in Sheldon’s hands for an hour or so, Nora met June in the parking lot.
“I drove by your window,” June said as Nora settled into the passenger seat. “It’s pretty amazing.”
“Sheldon’s pretty amazing.”
June turned onto Main Street. “Apparently, Estella thinks so too. We drove to Hester’s together last night. Because of that damned dead bird, Estella never got to talk about her meeting with Sheldon. But I can tell you that she’s feeling optimistic for the first time in months. Sheldon said that there wasn’t a thing wrong with her salon. It’s classy and clean. Her prices are reasonable. He said that since her reputation was responsible for her financial problems, she has to do all she can to make people see her in a different light. And she needs to do it fast.”
“Estella doesn’t think she should pretend to be anything other than what she is,” said Nora. “And I don’t blame her. None of us should have to wear a mask to succeed.”
June grunted. “She shouldn’t change, but she could dial it down a bit. You and I both know that she provokes the women who whisper behind her back. She needs to stop playing their game and turn the whole game on its head. No more antagonizing the church ladies and PTA moms by batting her eyes at their men. She needs those women as clients, not enemies.”
“That’s part of owning a business in a small town,” Nora said. “Having to be friendly to people you don’t like.”
June shot Nora a glance. “But if that business is the reason you get out of bed, then you do whatever it takes to make it thrive. That’s the point Sheldon was making. He suggested that Estella host a pro-women event—something that would let her bond with the local ladies and allow her to show another side of herself to the community.”
“Like a charity event?”
“You got it,” June said. “She’s planning a Go Pink Day to raise money for women battling cancer. She’ll give free cuts to anyone donating their hair to be used as wigs for cancer patients. She’ll have specials on pink mani/pedis, pink hair color, a pink grapefruit body scrub, or pink peony facial. Jack is cosponsoring the event. He’s donating food and pink champagne.”
Nora smile
d. “It’s brilliant. Estella will be seen as a caring community member.” After a pause, she added, “I worry about her relationship with Jack, though. She says that he’s totally fine with being good friends, but I call bullshit. Have you seen the way he looks at her?”
“Yeah.” June’s tone was mournful. “The boy’s got it bad.”
“I want Estella to succeed, but not at the price of Jack’s broken heart.”
June clucked her tongue. “It’s not up to you, hon. Even if you think you can spare Jack a whole lotta pain, you shouldn’t. He won’t stop loving Estella because you warn him off. Real love isn’t that weak. It gets down in your bones, kind of like—”
“A disease?” Nora joked. She wanted to change the subject. Any talk of love reminded her of her awkward exchange with Jed.
June was too busy merging onto the highway to respond to Nora’s wry comment, and after going around a painfully slow tractor trailer, she asked if there’d been any news about Danny’s case.
“Not that I know of,” said Nora.
“I read in the paper that his death was ruled an accidental drowning. Will the sheriff keep looking at different angles now? Especially with this white T-shirt fool running around.”
Nora felt defensive on the sheriff’s behalf. “McCabe has integrity. So does his team. They won’t move on and forget about Danny just because it’s convenient.”
June grunted again, somehow managing to inject doubt into the sound.
Nora didn’t want to spend the rest of the drive talking about the sheriff. Instead, she told June about the pottery she’d seen at the Inn of Mist and Roses.
“You’re saying that Danny’s older pieces are worth some money?”
“Real money. His utilitarian stuff sells for under a hundred bucks, but his traditional pieces, especially the blackware, are selling for thousands of dollars. The pottery Patty and Lou own is worth at least five grand in total.”
June whistled. “You can’t spend that kind of money on art without knowing the artist’s name. Did you ever get the chance to ask Patty or Lou how they knew Danny?”
