by Tess Rothery
“But regarding chapel, will Leon be replaced?”
“Does Ernie even go to church?” Karina’s professional polish was gone now.
Taylor gave her a long look. Karina was a little younger than Taylor, but she felt like she ought to recognize her, but not even her name rang a bell. “Karina, I’m sorry, we got off on the wrong foot. I did come here to talk about Leon, but I chickened out.”
“You’re wasting my time.”
“He seemed like such a great guy.”
She cringed in disbelief. “He’s a big quilt-shopper, I guess. You’ve certainly never visited chapel.”
“Was he friends with Cricket?”
Karina stood, her tiny hands pressed against the desk. “We were all friends with Cricket, and if you don’t mind, I’m going to lock up. The boss said I could. I was stupid not to.”
“Can I buy you dinner to make up for this?” It was a desperate offer.
“Dating Hudson isn’t enough? Now you want to take me out, too? Ha. Isn’t that ironic?”
“What? Not a date. Just to talk or whatever.”
“Yeah, sure. Dinner out with Taylor Quinn, because I want everyone to talk about me.”
“Is everyone talking about me?” Taylor was developing a headache.
Karina laughed out loud, a surprisingly attractive, musical laugh. “Like you didn’t know. Poor, tragic, heroic Taylor. Everything in life is out to get her, but she doesn’t let it hold her back. She’s a hero. Look at everything she’s given up for her sister. Yeah? Well, what about everything she’s taken?”
Taylor stared hard at the livid face of the young woman in front of her. She hadn’t paid much attention to underclassmen when she was in high school. Or maybe Karina was from another town….
“Are you saying Hudson dumped you for me? Because that’s absurd.”
“Is it? Is it absurd he’d date a Wyandotte girl? I know we’re not epic town heroes, but we’re not trash.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Hudson and I were a couple till you got here, yes. We had dated for two years. Then you got back. Poor, poor Taylor. The girl who can’t catch a break. Doesn’t she work so hard? Isn’t she industrious? Isn’t it amazing what she accomplished even with her dad dead?”
Taylor inhaled sharply. “Calm down.”
“Excuse me?” Karina’s hand was on her hip, and she leaned forward, though the front counter was a sizable barrier to her petite frame. “Even my parents thought your dad was the town hero. Saved a baby, didn’t he? From that fire? And then went back in for the parents but didn’t make it? I’m surprised that wasn’t the baby your mom adopted.”
“You can go to hell, you know that?” Taylor snapped. All of the rage from the morning was going to go to this tightly-wound person talking trash about her dead parents. “If I ever hear you talking about my parents again, I’ll….” Words failed, but it didn’t matter. The threat was there, in her face.
Karina lunged across the counter, but the desk was too wide and the counter was too high and she was too short. She knocked over her monitor and slipped back down to the floor, tangled in the cords.
Taylor left.
But she wasn’t going to give up.
Chapter Seven
Taylor stormed across the facility to the quadrangle where they’d had the tea party. She didn’t know one building from the other and hadn’t gotten herself a map while she was having her friendly chat with the devil.
She hovered near where their table had been. Somewhere in this facility was Hudson’s Grandpa Boggy, and somewhere else was that little Mrs. Sylvester. The one who had called Leon “her boy.” She’d be the one to talk to, but if she wasn’t around, Taylor would settle for Boggy.
It was past the breakfast hour, but too early for lunch. There was a chance someone in the kitchen would know where she could find them.
Taylor rapped on the French doors to the dining room, mouthing “Knock, knock.” She tried to sound friendly even though she was pretty rattled.
“We’re not open today.” A woman approached the door and, though it was locked, Taylor could make out what she said. After looking past Taylor, and seeming to scan the quad, the woman in the white chef’s jacket opened the door.
“No resident meals?” Taylor asked.
“We’re delivering bag lunches and dinner plates indefinitely. You saw the deputies at the front door, I assume.”
“I did. But maybe you could help me…I want to find a certain resident.”
The lady wore a name tag that said “Frida.” Taylor recognized her but wasn’t sure from where. She might have once worked at the school cafeteria. Or maybe the College. The whole chef’s jacket thing seemed familiar.
“Taylor, right?”
“Yeah. How are you holding up, Frida?” Taylor said her name because it was on the tag and seemed like the friendly thing to do.
“Not well. I just can’t believe someone would do that to her.”
“To Cricket?”
“Yeah. She never harmed a fly.”
“Was she a good friend?”
“She was everybody’s friend. She’d give you the coat off her back and then give you all the cash in her wallet just in case you wanted to buy a different coat.”
“I’m so sorry. There’s just been so much death. I was hoping to go visit Mrs. Sylvester. She had said something about Leon being ‘her boy,’ so I thought she must be hurting.”
“Probably so. He was very popular with the older ladies. He was fun, but kind of a man child. The kind you wouldn’t want to be married to, but everyone wants to mother.”
“Interesting that he went into the ministry.”
Frida’s whole demeanor was one of grief. Taylor wanted to ask her to sit down, but Frida blocked the door. “He was good natured and cared about people, I guess. But I figure he had to be a chaplain because no church would put up with his shenanigans for very long.”
“Shenanigans?”
“He was the kind of guy that thought he was a comedian. Jokes, pranks, sarcasm. I don’t know. I don’t think anyone would ever hire a guy like that to pastor a church.”
“Did he have several places he, um, chaplained?”
“Got me. I just know he was here all the time glad-handing the old men and getting mothered by the old ladies.”
“You don’t seem surprised he got knifed in the back.”
Her face froze. “Oh, I was surprised. I was. I hadn’t seen that coming in a million years. And yet, when compared with Cricket’s death, it doesn’t really seem all that surprising. I could see any number of people wanting to stab Leon in the back.”
“Anyone in particular?”
The frozen look left her face. “You’re kind of into murders, yeah?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way.”
Frida sucked on her bottom lip. “I don’t know. You get people arrested. I wouldn’t want to name anyone to you without feeling really sure about things.”
“I mean, I’m not a cop. I can’t really arrest people.”
“But aren’t you dating a cop?”
“Excuse me?”
Frida rolled her eyes. “And Hudson East and a banker and have some boy toy stashed above your store? And last I heard some college kid stays nights at your house…”
“At least one of those boys is dating my sister!”
The two women stared at each other and then, like a cork bursting, Taylor started to laugh.
And Frida laughed.
“It’s absurd. A single lady can’t even go on a few innocent dates in this town.”
Frida was still laughing but managed to choke out a few words. “I bet a day’s wages you have no idea who I am.”
Taylor held up her hands in surrender. “I’ve been very preoccupied the last year.”
“I worked in the kitchen at the high school when you and Chef Joey were there.”
“I did remember!”
“Sure….” Frida rolled her eyes. �
�I don’t care who you date, but some folks do. This isn’t Portland.”
“I ran into Karina already.” Taylor leaned on the door. “I really don’t think Hudson dumped her for me.”
“The timing is suspicious.”
“Clay, the guy I have stashed in the apartment above my store, is single. Maybe I can introduce them and make things even.”
“Oh, dear God.” Frida laughed again. “I’m single, you might as well introduce him to me.”
“Anytime, Frida. I’d love to shut the gossips up.”
“And I’d love to lose twenty pounds. I work in a kitchen. It’s not going to happen. You live in Comfort, Oregon. Your dreams aren’t going to come true, either.”
“But no gossip for me about who might have wanted to see either Leon or Cricket dead?”
“I’ll tell you this much. There are people you say you’d love to see dead that you wouldn’t actually kill. Leon falls into that category. Then there’s folks like Cricket who you’d take a bullet for, but then, that’s only because she’d do it for you. So, you ask yourself, did she take that knife for someone else? Or could someone really be so dark and evil they’d kill the world’s nicest person?”
“That is a very, very good question.”
“I’m not allowed to give directions to resident’s rooms. Especially if they’re in memory care.” Frida nodded slowly, like Taylor was getting the information she needed. “Especially now. The place is on lockdown.”
“Got it. Thanks for your time.” Mrs. Sylvester was in memory care, apparently, but it didn’t matter, the place was all buttoned up.
“I hope to see you around after Ernie moves in.”
“Anytime.” Taylor, on the other hand, did not hope to see Grandpa Ernie move in.
She went back to the front door, smiled nicely at the deputy who she recognized from stops in to see Reg, and went to the front desk.
Karina was gone. An older man sat at the desk, handsome in a gray-in-the-temples kind of way.
“How can I help you?”
Taylor wondered briefly if this man was in on the gossip, and if so, did he fall into the camp that saw her as a tragic orphan or the one that saw her as a tramp?
“I’m here to visit Mrs. Sylvester.”
He nodded. “Good. Good. I’m glad to hear it. May I see your ID, Taylor? Just a formality.”
She chalked the caring stranger up as one in the “tragic orphan” camp.
He looked at the driver’s license briefly, then gave it back and pushed the guest registry book to her.
“I just need to know what room.”
He told her the room number and gave her a map of the building.
Mrs. Sylvester’s apartment in the memory care wing had a little table in front of it filled with ceramic Sylvester the Cat figurines, and right in the center of the figurine display was a decorative mailbox that said “Mrs. Sylvester” on it.
Taylor knocked.
A reedy little voice invited Taylor in.
“Good morning, Mrs. Sylvester, I’m Taylor Quinn, Ernie’s granddaughter.”
“I know who you are.”
Her apartment was a sort of studio and very comfortable. An adjustable hospital bed was in one corner, made somewhat private with a little half wall. Across from that was an electric heater that looked like a fireplace. And the wall by the door held a pseudo kitchen. The cupboards were clean, white painted wood, with a granite counter on top. The kitchenette had a tiny little dorm fridge, as well as a microwave, coffee pot, and an electric kettle. Taylor wondered if all of those were safe, but supposed the professionals knew what they were doing.
“Can I make you some tea and cookies?”
“That would be lovely.” Taylor took a seat in a small, plaid, wingback chair that was positioned across from a matching love seat.
Mrs. Sylvester took a tube of chocolate chip cookie dough from her fridge, scooped four spoonfuls onto a dish, and put it in the microwave. Then she filled the kettle and turned it on. “It’s a convection microwave,” she said proudly, “so it bakes like a real oven. My boy got it for me.”
“Leon?” Taylor asked, thankful the transition had been so easy.
“No, Carl. My son. Leon, oh, poor Leon, can you believe what they did to him?”
“It’s heartbreaking. I remember you saying he was your boy yesterday, so I wanted to come see how you were doing.”
The microwave chimed, and Mrs. Sylvester took the plate out.
They smelled like proper chocolate chip cookies. Taylor was impressed. Maybe she ought to put a convection microwave in the apartment above her shop. Seemed safer than having the full kitchen up there above all her flammable fabrics. She hadn’t worried about it till Clay had moved in. The two kitchen fires he’d started in the condo in Portland left an impression on her.
Mrs. Sylvester brought her a cup of tea in a small pink china glass and two cookies on a matching saucer. She moved gingerly and sat on the edge of the love seat. “I say Leon was my boy,” she said after adjusting the pleats of her dove-colored wool skirt, “but he was actually my sister’s boy. Her grandson. It was such a delight to find he was our chaplain.”
“Were you and your sister close?”
“Yes, very close, when we lived in Robinette. A close-knit community is good for families.”
“And after?”
She clucked sadly. “We moved here, Merlin and I, because of the mill in Willamina. But my sister and her husband moved to Oklahoma to work for a mill there. I was just crushed.”
“How did Leon end up all the way back here?”
“I wondered the same thing. He went to seminary in Oklahoma, but he said when he looked at the various ministry jobs available, the one in Comfort called his name because he knew he had family. Isn’t he sweet?”
“Very sweet.” Taylor thought of her Grandma Delma. She’d been one of six sisters. The girls had also spread around the country for work and husbands. Taylor remembered her grandma going to visit a sister here or there, now and then, but none of them had ever come to Comfort, and Taylor wouldn’t know where to start if she needed to find any of them now. “Did Leon play favorites since you were here?”
Her pale white cheeks glowed. “Oh, he did! He was terrible. He’d come have tea with me every Tuesday at three. Cookies and tea.”
Taylor nibbled the microwaved cookie. Mrs. Sylvester seemed very aware and capable for someone in the memory care wing. Perhaps that was why she was allowed so many cooking devices. “You’ll miss him terribly, I suspect.”
“Yes, very much.” Her pale blue eyes sparkled with tears.
“And now with the terrible news about Cricket Jones, everyone must be very upset.”
“What terrible news about Cricket?” Mrs. Sylvester set her cup down with a shaking hand.
“Oh! I’m sorry…” Taylor set her cup down too. It was not her place to tell the residents what had happened.
“Cricket Jones? The young lady who was so fond of Leon?”
“She must be just devastated…” Taylor offered, hoping Mrs. Sylvester was at least confused enough to think that was what she had meant all along.
“Yes, I suspect so. I called and left a message for her to come over on Tuesday for tea and cookies. I thought it would be a comfort to both of us.”
“Mrs. Sylvester…I think I need to be going, but before I do, could you remind me what room Boggy Hudson is in?”
Mrs. Sylvester frowned and tilted her head. “Boggy…”
Taylor tried to remember Boggy’s real name, the one Mrs. Sylvester had used. “Um…. Boswell?”
She brightened. “Yes, young Boswell. He’s such a scamp. He lives just off Creek Street with his father and stepmother.”
Mrs. Sylvester had slipped away, lost in the past somewhere, her lucid moment over. Or maybe she hadn’t been lucid at all. Maybe she only thought Leon was her nephew…it was hard to know.
Taylor didn’t try to find Boggy this time. She wanted to do a little Goog
ling, and that would be best done at home over a proper lunch. While she was heating water to make macaroni, Hudson called. “Ellery, could you take over?” Taylor waved her phone at her cousin.
“Sure thing.”
Taylor took her call upstairs.
“Taylor…”
Taylor was about to reem him out for the scene Karina had made, when she paused. He had left Karina for her. He hadn’t cheated on anyone. And it wasn’t Taylor’s business who he had dated previously. And since Taylor had been the one to insist they were just casually dating, she really didn’t have any room to holler at him.
But she still wanted to. “I was ambushed today by a brokenhearted house elf.”
“House elf?”
“Yes, a tiny, angry, little elf of a person who works at Bible Creek Care Home and believes I destroyed her world.”
“Ah. Sorry about that.”
“Obviously I want to be angry with you, but I realize that’s absurd.”
“Thanks, I guess.” He sounded down.
“What’s up?”
“Can I see you tonight?”
“Of course.”
“You won’t be out with anyone else?”
“Nope, that dance is free for your name.”
He sighed.
“Don’t be like this.”
“Sorry.” His Eeyore tones were hard to listen to.
“Don’t be moody. You know how it is.” Taylor paced her room. How was it, exactly? She wanted to have her cake and eat it, too, that’s how it was. And it didn’t sound very nice when she put it that way.
“Let’s just talk tonight, okay?”
“I really want to see your grandpa,” Taylor said before he could hang up. “You want to come with me?”
“I’m on a lunch break, not a day off.”
“When’s your next day off?”
“Let’s just talk over dinner. Can I pick you up?”
“Sure, why not?” She paused, a little sick with the feeling she was in trouble. But she hadn’t really done anything wrong, had she?
“See you tonight. Is seven too early?”
“Not at all.”
Taylor hung up and paced her small bedroom. She didn’t have time in her life for moody young men with expectations. And part of the fun of dating Hudson was that he was too young for expectations. What twenty-six-year-old man was mooning over not getting married?
