by Wendy Tyson
“May I?”
Dee Dee handed Megan the album, and Megan started paging through it. It was in chronological order. Megan saw the cheating bastard ex-husband—also a wiry red-head, but with beady eyes—and the son at each stage of life. She paused when she got to the high school graduation pages.
“Little Alex just got a job with a defense firm. They’re sending him to graduate school.” Her expression darkened. “He still has his black days, but he’s making something of himself. That’s good, right?”
“He sounds like an amazing kid.” Megan glanced down at the last few pages in the album. “This girl,” she pointed to a pretty, tall, slender brunette standing near Alex in one of the graduation photos. Her resemblance to Harriet was uncanny. “Do you remember her?”
“How could I forget? Catherine. Kids called her ‘Cat.’ One of the troublemakers.” Dee Dee distanced herself from the album. “A black spot on an otherwise bright sun. She used to make fun of Alex mercilessly.”
“Did you report it?”
“Of course. Alex was already a lonely kid. He went there to make things better, not be tormented by some mean-spirited girl with a nose for trouble.”
“Did the school address the issue?”
Dee Dee frowned. “Hardly. Her parents were founders. She was untouchable. After we told, she stalked him in the halls. Tortured him.”
Megan let this sink it. It made sense. They had the money, and with a daughter facing juvenile prison, they had a reason. “As a parent, that must have been infuriating.”
Dee Dee put her sunglasses back on so that Megan couldn’t read her expression. “Sure, but ain’t that life? Even in a school with kids who have much, some have more.”
“Doesn’t make it fair.” Echoes of Donna Lewis, Megan thought.
Dee Dee was determined to put a good face on it. “Just the way life is. Some people meet Romeo, some get the cheating bastard of a husband who watches porn in the basement.” She smiled and shrugged. “We were happy to have the school and grateful for Dr. Star.” She poured herself more tea. “In the end, we didn’t want to make waves.”
Twenty-One
Megan arrived at the café just as the sky opened up. Sheets of rain hit the pavement and topped off an already roiling canal as thunder boomed overhead. Megan searched for an umbrella in her truck. Unsuccessful, she pulled an old sweatshirt from behind the seat and used it to run into Washington Acres café.
Inside, she wiped the water from her eyes. The chill from the air conditioner cooled her wet skin, and she felt a shiver run through her. She looked up to see the restaurant was empty—except for a lone patron sitting at the counter, reading a book. She immediately recognized the slender neck and narrow shoulders as belonging to Martine Pringle.
Perfect.
Megan slipped behind the counter before Martine saw her. She popped into her office to dry off and deposit the sweatshirt. Taking advantage of the relative privacy, she made a quick call to Denver to ask whether he’d spoken to any of his friends yet. He had not; he was on his way to the inn now.
“Martine is here. I’ll ask her about Chase.”
“Okay, Megs.” His voice sounded hesitant.
“What’s wrong? You don’t want me to talk to her?”
“It’s not that. I just…I got to thinking about our conversation last night. Your grandmother is right. Maybe Martine is someone worth watching. Maybe her efforts to point the police toward Jatin are a ruse.”
“She’s so tiny. Whoever did that packed a wallop.”
“We already know she’s a liar.”
“There’s a pretty big leap from liar to murderer.” Megan heard Alvaro calling her from the kitchen. “I have to go. Call me tonight and let me know how things go?”
“Aye. I’d stop over but I think it’s going to be a long night. The rain has the animals up in arms. Taylor farm has a cow revolt, and old Mrs. Nudy’s dog is trying to mother a gaggle of ducklings.”
Megan laughed at the image of Mrs. Nudy’s dog and the ducks. “I should check on Camilla.”
“Aye, you should. Maybe sit with her for a bit. Or if she likes the goats, let them be together for the evening. This weather scares them.”
As though on cue, thunder crashed.
“Love you,” Denver said.
“I love you too.”
Megan hung up, feeling uneasy.
Megan slipped a bowl of Alvaro’s homemade berry crisp across the counter to Martine. “On the house. And it has berries, so you could consider it a fruit salad.”
Martine smiled. “No, thanks.” She touched her stomach. “I couldn’t eat another bite. The spring chopped salad was amazing.”
“Our chef has a gift.”
“The farm fresh veggies didn’t hurt.”
Megan pointed to the book Martine was reading. It was a treatise on photography. “Good read?”
“Something to kill time.” As though realizing what she’d just said, Martine covered her mouth. “I must sound so insensitive. You know what I mean. I’m afraid we’re all on edge.”
Megan busied herself by wiping down the counter. “How come you’re here alone?”
“I needed some space.”
“Understandable. Everyone else at the inn?”
“I have no idea. I left two hours ago. Thought I would work on some side projects and maybe get a bite to eat other than fast food.”
“How are things going with your day job? Have you managed to quell the fervor?”
Martine closed the book. “Somewhat. There are still a lot of inquiries about Chase, but we’ve taken the focus off BOLD.” Martine rubbed her hands together. “Although from an investor standpoint, the loss of Chase is a real problem.”
“Is that part of what you do, deal with investors?”
“Technically, no. I put the good spin on BOLD so that current investors are happy and potential investors are interested. Xavier handles potential investors. Jatin handles current owners.”
Megan put away her rag and poured herself a copy of coffee. “Would you like some?” she asked Martine.
“Yes, please.” She eyed the crisp. “And maybe I’ll have just a little of this. It looks delicious.”
Megan set out the drinks. As she took a sip of the hot coffee, she watched as Martine took a tiny, dainty bite of the crisp.
“Mmm. My mother used to make this for me.” She put the spoon down on the counter. “It’s hard to put a good spin on a murder.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Would you like to join me?” Martine asked. “I could use some company.”
“I need to help my chef get ready for the dinner crowd. If you stick around, you can try his sofrito stew. It’s his mother’s recipe.”
“Sounds wonderful, but I really have eaten enough for two days. Besides, I need to get back to the inn to collect my belongings. I’m moving out. I’ve decided I’m going to rent a room here in Winsome.” She looked down at her coffee. “The tension is too much.”
“Harriet was okay with that?”
“She doesn’t know. I’ve been avoiding her as much as possible.”
Megan drank more of her coffee. Martine seemed even more off today. There was a melancholy aspect to her expression Megan hadn’t seen before, and if it were possible, she seemed thinner, more pallid. “Are you okay?”
Martine smiled, surprised. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
Megan weighed whether to ask Martine more questions. Martine had been pretty open with her thus far, although Megan sensed that had more to do with her need for a confidante than any connection to Megan. She didn’t have to weigh the decision long; it was Martine who brought up the school.
“My biggest issue is how to deal with inquiries about the school. Everyone wants to know how BOLD and the school are connected. They’ve tracke
d down Harriet and have even mentioned her daughter.” Martine shook her head. “Harriet is livid, and I don’t know how much to say.”
Megan frowned. “I guess this is what you train for.”
Martine smiled. “As a PR specialist, this is what you dread.”
“Tell me, Martine, about the scholarships for college. The ones Harriet planned to give to anyone who completed the mentor program. How would that work?”
Martine tilted her head. “If the student had stayed with the mentor program and qualified for financial aid because of low income, we would step in and pay their college tuition. Within reason, of course. No Harvard tuition.”
“Was there a pool of money set aside for this?”
“Not that I know of. Just a promise by the company.”
Megan said, “Seems like a very generous offer.”
“Harriet feels strongly about that school.”
Megan nodded. “I see that.” She chose not to mention the fact that Pioneer Village School educated rich kids—kids who were unlikely to need the scholarships. “I see what the students gain, but what about BOLD?”
“That good will I mentioned.”
“How does that help reassure or attract investors? Aren’t they more interested in the bottom line than a do-good project?”
“The type of investor we love to attract wants to combine investing with social activism. They get to make money, help find a cure for some terrible disease, and send kids to college. We let them feel good about making money.”
Megan wasn’t so sure the people who invested in BOLD were that worried about social justice. The door to the store opened, causing the bells to ring. “A win-win.”
“Remember, what’s good for the bottom line is good for everyone.” Martine pulled a laptop from the bag on the chair next to her. “Want to see some more photos?”
Megan nodded. She watched as someone made their way back toward the café. The regal bearing and the dark tresses pegged the figure as Dr. Harriet Mantra.
“Good afternoon, Doctor,” Megan said.
“Good afternoon. I was hoping to find Martine here.” She took off her glasses and pinned her stare on Martine. “Where have you been hiding?”
Harriet was behind Martine, and very quickly Martine slammed her laptop lid down. She stood and spun around. “Dr. Mantra.” Her eyes pleaded with Megan not to say a word.
“Berry crisp?” Megan asked Harriet.
The glance Harriet gave the bowl of berry crisp was full of contempt, as though the fruit had done her a grievous wrong. “Only if you can take away the crisp and leave the berries.”
“Now what fun would that be?” Megan asked.
Harriet didn’t crack a smile. “We’re not here for fun. It would serve everyone, Martine, if we could all remember that.”
Megan pulled into the farm’s driveway and parked behind Eloise’s Lexus. She wasn’t surprised to find Eloise at the house, although she was surprised to see her so soon—and during such bad weather. Bibi had a way of making people feel at home, though, and maybe Eloise had gotten over her dislike for the Birch family long enough to consider Bibi’s potential impact on Dillon. Long ago, Eloise and Megan’s father Eddie had dated. Like many of Eddie’s relationships, it hadn’t ended well. Megan suspected Eloise held it against Bibi, Eddie’s admittedly over-protective mother. It looked like Eloise had moved past any old hurts. Megan was glad; Bibi could be good for the teen. Bibi was the best kind of grandmother: fiercely protective, fiercely empowering, and fiercely nurturing. She was an equal opportunity grandmother too. Dillon could do worse.
The inside of the porch smelled of chicken soup and biscuits. Megan also smelled a hint of buttery chocolate in the air: cookies. Her stomach rumbled despite the plate of stew she’d eaten at the café.
“Hello?” she called when she opened the door to the kitchen, which was empty. “Anyone here?”
“Back here!” Came Bibi’s response.
Megan followed the sound into the parlor. She found Bibi and Dillon sitting side by side on the couch. A rerun of The Office was on television, and Bibi was laughing so hard tears were running down her face.
“Hello, Dillon. Bibi, since when do you like The Office?”
“Since Dillon introduced me to the show. It’s hilarious!”
Megan noticed Sadie wedged between them on the couch. She had her head on Dillon’s lap and her eyes on the television screen. Megan would have commented on it, but Bibi had a strict no dogs on the couch rule. Clearly, she was playing by a different rule book this evening, and even the dogs knew it.
Thunder roared overhead. Lightening immediately followed, filling the sky with brilliant white light. Megan saw Dillon wince.
“Where’s Eloise?”
Bibi leaned toward the television. She was wearing a blue and white striped “Wacky Winsome” sweatshirt from the old store Megan’s father once ran, and she used the sleeve to wipe her eyes.
“Dr. Kent had phone calls to make,” Dillon said.
“I let her use the office,” Bibi said. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Megan nodded. “Of course not.”
“Dillon’s hanging out with me. We had soup and biscuits. There’s some left in the fridge if you want it.”
“And cookies,” Dillon said.
Bibi smiled. “And chocolate chip cookies Dillon helped me make.”
Megan stood in the doorway for a few more seconds, watching the unlikely pair bond over reruns of The Office. Leave it to comedy, chocolate, and the power of one woman’s love.
Megan finally excused herself, but the sound of her voice was drowned out by the thunder. “I’m going to check on the animals!” she yelled.
Neither answered. They were too busy seeming normal.
Camilla was running around her pen, eyes wide. Megan climbed over the enclosure and sat still on the ground until the young pig came toward her. When Camilla was close enough, Megan started to talk in a low voice. She’d brought a blanket and she spread it on the ground next to her. The pig finally calmed enough to sit by her. It was getting late, and the steady beat of the rain against the roof lulled Megan into a sense of peace. She sat next to Camilla for a long while, reassuring herself as much as the pig, until her eyes grew too heavy to stay open.
She woke up two hours later. Camilla was still next to her, cuddled against Megan’s prone body. Three sets of eyes were staring down from above, their expressions a mix of amusement and relief.
“We thought you’d gone missing,” Bibi said.
“We were worried about you,” Eloise said.
Dillon’s gaze was on the pig. He dropped down and put his arms around her. “She’s scared.”
“That’s why I came out here. She’s all alone.”
Dillon looked ready to cry. Megan and Eloise exchanged a look, but it was Bibi who acted. She shimmied herself down on the floor by the boy and the pig.
“Storms should let up in the next hour. Eloise, I say Dillon and I do the next shift. That okay with you?”
Clearly Eloise didn’t know what to say. She managed: “It’s late, but I guess.”
“Good.” Bibi shifted so her back was against the enclosure. “That okay with you, Dillon?”
The boy didn’t say anything. He simply stroked Camilla’s head. The pig leaned into his touch.
To Megan, Bibi whispered, “Better bring a crane to hoist me out of here.”
Megan smiled. She followed Eloise back to the house, her own frame aching from sleeping on the barn floor.
When they were inside the kitchen, Megan offered Eloise tea. She declined. Eloise wore pressed dark denim jeans and a red and white striped short-sleeve sweater. Despite her neat appearance, her eyes drooped and were bloodshot.
“You’re not sleeping,” Megan said.
“That obvious?”
“Has he given you any trouble?”
“None at all, which worries me more.”
“You’re waiting for the other shoe to fall.”
Eloise’s smile was wan. “Or the axe.” She shook her head. “Okay, that wasn’t funny.”
“If you’re that concerned, he shouldn’t be staying with you.”
“Where would he go?”
“He can stay here.” Megan said the words before she could think them through.
Eloise sat down on a chair. She threw her head back. “The social services system doesn’t work that way. There are background checks and hoops to jump through, and the only reason I got Dillon was because he was already staying with me. The truth is, that boy has been nothing but an angel. It’s his calm. It’s unnerving.”
“He and Bibi were laughing away when I came in this evening.” Megan walked to the window. She could see the glow of the light in the barn. The rain had slowed, and she hadn’t heard thunder in a while. “He sure likes Camilla.”
Eloise rubbed her eyes. “I wish they would put this mess to rest. Find who did this to Chase Mars.”
Megan thought about the conversation she had with the reporter, Donna Lewis. “Eloise,” she said, “is Dillon right-handed?”
“Left.” She looked up. “You’re asking because whoever killed Chase may have been a leftie, correct?”
Megan didn’t need to respond. She could tell by Eloise’s face that the woman already knew.
“I could tell by the questions they were asking. Yes, Dillon’s a southpaw. So what? So are lots of people, including most of the people from BOLD. Anyway, we should go.” Eloise stood. “Think your pig will be okay now?”
“I’ll sit with her for a while if not.”
Eloise touched Megan’s shoulder. “Bonnie invited Dillon over again in a few days. Are you okay with your grandmother watching him? It does help me out. With school out for a few weeks of summer break, I only get time to myself when Dillon has therapy sessions.”
“Anytime, Eloise.” Megan thought about her conversation with the reporter, Donna Lewis. “Have you been happy with Pioneer Village and Dr. Star?”
