by Melissa Tagg
Lanterns dangled from tree branches and sat atop each round table that dotted the freshly mowed lawn. Light ropes traced both sides of the walkway that led from the house. The magnolia tree near the garden shed was in full bloom, some of its snow-white blossoms falling with the breeze and dusting the grass underneath. In one corner of the yard, near the roped-off garden, Marshall had set up a movie screen where they planned to show one of the old films they’d found in the attic.
Lenora would’ve loved this.
“You, Mara Bristol, are a miracle worker,” Mayor Milt said, his gaze sweeping over the sprawling yard and the townspeople beginning to gather. “I think we can safely say this is a rousing success.”
“I really can’t take all the credit. So many people helped and the weather cooperated too.”
The April sky was painted in gorgeous shades of pink and violet, and a warmth that could almost pass for summer hovered in the air. Even the trees had seemed to anticipate this event—buds opening into leaves practically overnight.
Marshall had a few heaters and a portable generator on hand just in case it cooled down too much in the evening, but so far, it didn’t feel like they’d even need them.
The mayor reached up to pat her cheek—a gesture that from anyone else might seem overly familiar but felt merely sweet and grandfatherly coming from the older man. “You’re being modest and it only makes me appreciate you more. I hope you’re planning to stay in Maple Valley. You fit in here well, Mara.”
The words couldn’t have more fully warmed her heart if they’d come complete with a key to the town. “I sure hope to stay.”
“I am a little surprised, though, that the owner isn’t here. I’ve gathered she’s somewhat of a silent proprietor, but I would’ve thought she’d want to see this.”
Why did she get the sense the mayor might understand a little more than he let on about Lenora’s absence? So far, no one had bothered to question whether Mara belonged at the helm of the Everwood. Well, except for Sam in those initial days. But now, not for the first time, her conscience pricked. Other than her friends and that loan officer from the bank, no one else knew how long Lenora had been gone.
Or that she hadn’t okayed any of the improvements they’d made here.
If Mara confessed the truth, would it undo the good impression she’d made tonight? Would the mayor see her as an imposter?
Suddenly, it didn’t matter. He’d been so kind and welcoming. Everyone had. She owed them honesty. “Actually, I need to tell you something about the owner.”
The mayor held up his hands to stop her confession. “I don’t need to know any more than what I can see with my own two eyes. And what I see is that you have the Everwood’s best interest in mind, and you’ve made good use of the city’s funds. For now, that’s good enough for me.” He patted his stomach. “Now, I heard someone mention refreshments and I want to get a good seat for the movie.”
“You’ll take a look at my business plan later?”
“Oh, don’t you worry. Sarita will go over it with a fine-toothed comb.” He leaned toward her. “But I feel fairly confident in saying you don’t have a thing to worry about, Miss Bristol.”
He moved off into the yard, stopping at the first table he came across to chat with its occupants.
And what had been confidence before now unfolded into unadulterated delight. All their hard work was paying off. Perhaps some of their guests tonight would be so impressed they’d tell their out-of-town friends or even book their own future stay. In hopes of that, she was offering a special deal for open house guests who made spring or summer reservations. She should head inside and ask Jenessa if anyone had taken them up on the offer so far.
But just for a moment, she wanted to stay out here and let herself breathe it all in—the anticipation in the air, the loveliness of the spring night, the scent of lilacs mingling with the sweet aroma of the magnolia tree’s blossoms.
This all felt . . . it felt like she’d finally done what Lenora had said all those months ago. Opened a door. Stepped out of the hallway and into a world of new possibilities.
Yes, Lenora, wherever she was, would’ve loved this.
Her gaze drifted to where Marshall chatted with the man running the projector. As if sensing her attention, he glanced up. Flashed her a grin that made her heart dance.
“The dress is pretty, Mara. But you’re beautiful.”
That’s what he’d said an hour and a half ago when she’d first emerged from her room. The same gooey warmth that had filled every inch of her then curled over her now.
It’d been like this all week. One look from the man could scorch her in the very best of ways. Yet it seemed he’d meant what he’d said about taking a step back. No more kisses and they hadn’t had much time to talk—really talk—either. But maybe tomorrow they’d go on that date.
Maybe she could ask him about his life back in Wisconsin . . . and whether or not he felt the pull to return. Maybe he’d finally open up about his daughter.
“Whatcha thinking about?”
Jenessa’s voice in her ear made her jump.
“Whoa, how in the world did you manage to sneak up on me while wearing heels? I should’ve heard you coming.”
“Oh, I think you were a little distracted.” Jenessa’s knowing expression matched her saucy tone.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just admiring the gorgeous night.”
“That and something else. Or should I say someone else?”
Mara elbowed her friend and turned. “How’s it going at the front desk?”
“Perfect. We have five reservations already. One couple wants to book a room for an entire week in June. They have relatives coming into town. But there’s a man at the desk now who wants to talk to you.”
Mara glanced over her shoulder once more before following Jenessa inside. Marshall winked at her. Gorgeous night, indeed.
She trailed her friend, pausing for a moment when she caught sight of the man at the desk. He wore a long trench coat and carried a briefcase. Who brought a briefcase to an evening open house?
He glanced her way. “Mara Bristol?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
He held out an arm so lanky the sleeve of his coat stopped short at his wrist. “Jim Morse. Sorry to draw you away from your guests but I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute.”
She shook his hand and stepped behind the desk. “How can I help you?”
“I’m interested in the Everwood.” He plunked his briefcase onto the counter. “That is, I’m interested in buying it.”
Marshall strode across the Everwood’s parking lot to where Sam perched against a black SUV. The movie was just about to begin out back, but Mara hadn’t returned outside yet. He planned to find her as soon as he checked in with Sam.
“Any sign of last weekend’s intruder?”
Sam wasn’t in uniform, but he might as well have been. There was a reason he was stationed at the parking lot—surveillance. “So far, I recognize every person here tonight, save for a guy who showed up driving a rental car. But I did the casual chit-chat thing. Found out he’s a businessman from Des Moines, in real estate.”
“You believe him?”
“No reason not to, but I’ve got Lucas inside keeping an eye on him.”
Surely they were being overly cautious. But ever since last week’s intrusion, Marshall couldn’t shake his need to be on high alert. Never mind that there’d been nothing suspicious since Saturday. No other shadowy figures lurking outside the Everwood.
“I’m inclined to think whoever that was last weekend was just a teen making trouble,” Sam said. “There’s not a whole lot for entertainment in Maple Valley. Actually, I take that back—there’s plenty of entertainment, just not of the variety that appeals to teens.”
Marshall scanned the length of the packed parking lot. Tonight’s turnout was impressive. He just wished he could get his mind off police matters enough to enjoy it.
“We’re missing something, Sam. I’ve got that feeling.”
Sam nodded. “The one that keeps you up at night.”
“Makes your food tasteless until you’ve figured out where it’s coming from.”
“Turns you into the worst date ever.” Sam coughed uncomfortably. “Not that I’ve been there or anything.”
On a different day, Marshall might have been tempted to parse that comment for clues into Sam Ross’s life outside his role as police chief. They’d developed something of a working relationship in these past weeks—a friendship, even. Yet the man’s personal life was as much of a mystery as Lenora’s current whereabouts.
But Marshall’s focus was laser-beam straight tonight.
One good thing—Marshall was fairly certain that Saturday night’s incident didn’t have anything to do with Garrett. Mara had finally given him the kid’s full name as well as permission to look into his whereabouts. Sam had been the one to contact the guy’s parents, Mara’s former employers—mostly because Marshall knew if he made the call himself, he wouldn’t be able to hold back from reaming them out for not taking Mara seriously when she’d originally come to them with concerns about their son.
But Sam had gotten the information they needed. Garrett was studying abroad in France this semester. A fact his college had confirmed.
So the creep was out of the picture.
“I was about to come looking for you, though,” Sam said. “Your buddy Alex came through for us. Just got the call. Apparently, he’s been trying to call you all day. You lose your phone or something?”
Or something. The truth was, Beth had texted yesterday to ask if he’d be home in time for the twins’ birthday party in a couple of weeks. And two days ago, Captain Wagner had called, ostensibly to ask a question about a case Marshall had closed weeks ago. But he wasn’t dense. Cap had called out of fatherly concern. He was checking in.
Which Marshall appreciated. Yet the less he thought about his life in Wisconsin, the more he was able to stave off the choking grief that used to be his constant companion. Well, constant, that is, whenever he wasn’t gulping pills and escaping into the fog. Refusing to feel at all lest he feel too much.
But now he was feeling again. Feeling good things. He was a new man here. He’d taken off the blanket of his old, wrecked life, folded it up, and tucked it away in a closet. Like one of those breakable porcelain dolls.
And so, yes, today he’d left his phone on silent and kept it in his room.
He hadn’t considered that Alex might be trying to get in touch with him. After Academy, Alex had spent a couple of years as a cop working for a unit that specialized in organized crime in the Great Lakes area. A handy connection, to be sure. Marshall had called him earlier in the week and asked if any of his past contacts might be able to provide information on whoever could be left of the old Spinelli family. He must’ve come up with something.
“What’s the news?”
“Argo’s son, Jeane’s brother. Still alive. And get this—living in Springfield, Illinois.”
Well, then. Marshall clapped his hands together. “Springfield. Okay, so we start—”
“Already on it. Got a man checking hospitals, contacting the Springfield PD. We’ll review footage from every toll road in the vicinity.”
He had to tell Mara. Nothing was concrete but it was a lead. More of one than they’d had in days. He should run up to his room and grab his phone so he could text Alex too and—
Sam’s phone buzzed from his pocket.
Marshall paused.
A brief greeting, an “okay” and a “got it” later, Sam tapped out of the call. “That was fast.”
Marshall’s impatience itched. “What?”
Sam pocketed his phone. “Springfield Memorial Hospital. There’s a Jane Doe.”
Mara was reeling. “You want to buy the Everwood?”
Jim Morse had beady eyes and a nasally voice, and he’d finally seemed to realize Mara was still back on his initial point. He’d had other inquiries. How many guests were currently booked in the place? How long had she managed it? When could he speak to Lenora Worthington?
But Mara couldn’t get past his first statement.
“I don’t want to buy the Everwood,” the man finally explained. “But I work for a firm that represents a small company that has a new plant up in Dixon. They’ll be regularly flying in researchers, international investors, and other corporate leaders. They wish to purchase a house large enough to serve as a host site, and so far we haven’t found anything suitable in Dixon.”
So much information at once. “How’d you find out about the Everwood?”
The man adjusted his spectacles. “Saw an advertisement for the open house. Figured it couldn’t hurt to take a look.”
Out of habit, Mara toed off her shoes. Really, she shouldn’t be so bothered by this man’s questions. Just tell him the owner doesn’t plan to sell. End of story.
It was the truth, right?
Or perhaps she was making assumptions. Lenora had missed those few months of mortgage payments. Even though Mara no longer believed Lenora had simply abandoned the Everwood, it didn’t mean she hadn’t started to rethink the B&B’s future. For all Mara knew, Lenora might’ve put out feelers about a potential sale. Maybe she’d even talked to this man already. He did know her name.
“Mr. Morse, I really can’t speak for the Everwood’s owner. It’s not presently for sale, but other than that—”
“Trust me, we’d offer a good price. Certainly much more than market value.” He pulled a business card from his briefcase. “If you could have Lenora Worthington get in touch with me as soon as possible, I’d be most appreciative.”
Easier said than done. The faint strains of orchestra music flitted through the house. The movie must be starting out back.
“I’ll do my best.”
As she was shaking his hand, Marshall and Sam came bursting into the house. “We found her, Mara.” Marshall was grinning, his tie hanging loose and crooked, his gray eyes light with elation.
With no notice of the businessman, he swooped around the desk, gathering Mara into an impulsive hug then stepping back with his palms on her shoulders. “It’s Lenora. We know where she is.”
Her heart was pumping so fast it might race its way from her ribcage. “You’re serious? Of course, you’re serious. Where?”
Mr. Morse had left and Sam spoke from the other side of the desk. “A hospital in Springfield.”
She couldn’t believe it. She really couldn’t. “You’re sure?”
“A nurse confirmed it,” Marshall said. “Well, technically she confirmed that there’s a Jane Doe who matches Lenora’s description.”
Sam gave an amused grunt. “Probably broke confidentiality rules doing it. But Hawkins here is persuasive. Practically grabbed my phone out of my hand to do the questioning.”
“That’s not all.” Marshall’s palms were warm as they slid down her arms to take her hands. “She was checked into the hospital by a man named Davis Saddler. According to Alex, Davis Saddler is David Spinelli.”
Mara watched her own eyes widen in the mirror behind Marshall. “It almost fits too perfectly.”
“David is Jeane’s brother.”
Lenora’s uncle then. How long had Lenora been in the hospital? Why hadn’t she called? Or maybe she couldn’t . . .
Had the nurse given Marshall any details about whatever it was that kept Lenora in the hospital? And why would Lenora’s uncle check her in as a Jane Doe?
One question after another budged into each other. But only one made it out. “When do we leave?”
18
It was all too familiar—the fluorescent lights of the hospital, the sterile smells. Doctors in white coats and nurses in scrubs, carrying files, conversing in hushed tones, walking with purpose.
Leaving Marshall only to wait, helpless to control the situation or the desperate slope of his own emotion.
But this wasn’t Mayo and this
wasn’t two years ago.
Still, he couldn’t help falling into the old rhythm—finding patterns on the ridges in the ceilings, tracing the lines of the hand railings along the wall. All while he tried to stay awake after the overnight drive.
Mara was tapping her foot on the waiting room carpet next to him. Just how many cups of gas station coffee had she gulped down since they’d left Maple Valley? He’d tried to convince her to wait to leave until after a good night’s sleep. But she’d insisted on hitting the road soon after the open house ended. She was too keyed up to sleep anyway, she’d said.
Not entirely true. She’d dozed for a good three hours in the car before they’d switched places near the Iowa-Illinois border, giving him a chance to catch at least a couple hours of shut eye.
He’d found it hard to rest, though. Partially because he was just as eager as Mara to arrive at their destination and see the final pieces of this puzzle finally fit into place.
But also because for the first few hours of the drive, he could’ve sworn they were being followed. He hadn’t been able to pinpoint the make or model of the car whose headlights were more of a dim blue than a normal yellow. It never got close enough.
But from midnight to one a.m. to two, it kept disappearing and then reappearing in his rearview mirror, up and down hills and around what few curves they took on I-80. He’d slowed down twice just to see if the car would get close enough to pass. When that didn’t work, he’d sped up.
Which had finally done the trick. After no sign of the car for another half an hour, he’d mentally laughed off the whole thing, finally comfortable enough to give Mara the wheel for a while and let himself sink into a restless sleep.
“I don’t understand why they don’t let us in to see her. We drove all this way. We’ve been worried all this time.” Now both of Mara’s legs were bouncing. “You’d think someone would have a little mercy on us.”
They still didn’t have a clue what had landed Lenora in the hospital in the first place. The nurse Marshall had spoken to last night hadn’t been willing to do anything more than confirm they had a patient matching Lenora’s description, fitting the timeframe of her disappearance. He’d had to push hard to get the additional detail that she’d been checked in by a Davis Saddler, aka David Spinelli.
