by Lynn Cahoon
He left the kitchen through one door and Cat left through the other. She’d left the mystery she’d been reading in the study so she went to grab it off the desk. Michael’s desk. She smiled as she brushed her fingertips over the antique wood. Some people only got to love one man. She’d loved two, but had come back to her high school sweetheart. The world felt right.
Pushing away thoughts of both men, she settled onto a living room couch and got lost in a futuristic world where good did conquer evil, even if it took three hundred pages.
The guests came in right as she’d finished the book. She was sitting in the living room, in what she liked to call a good book coma or hangover. Where her mind didn’t want to leave the magic of the world she’d just created as she read the story.
Sydney found her first. “There you are. We’re just popping in to get ready for dinner. Although it feels like all I’ve been doing today is reading and eating. Do you want to join us?”
“No, go ahead. Shauna’s making us dinner here.” Cat patted the couch next to her. “Come sit down for a minute and tell me about your time at the library. What did you work on?”
“Well, I spent the afternoon soaking in travel books. I love looking at the pictures and imagining ourselves on that trail or in that swimming hole.” She grinned and Cat thought she was imagining something else too. “But my dear husband, he was working on a project up in the literary section. I do believe he’s kicking the dust off his fiction-writing muse.”
“He mentioned he enjoyed writing short stories.” Cat knew the third floor of the library had an amazing assortment of how to write books, including a few dedicated to the art of the short.
“Well, he’s got the bug again.” Sydney glanced at her watch and then jumped off the couch. “And I’m going to have to hurry if I’m going to be ready to leave soon. We’ll talk later.”
“Sounds good.” Cat listened to the chatter of the writers as they made their way upstairs to their rooms. She loved this part of the retreat, where everyone was super excited about their plan. She’d have to make sure that Professor Turner had gotten her message about changing up his seminar tomorrow. Tonight, after they came back, she’d offer to sit and talk business or craft, or they could watch a movie. In her year of experience, groups typically chose the movie, being a little too shy at the beginning of the retreat to open up about their careers.
She stood and stretched. Shauna should be in the kitchen by now; she’d go see if she could help finish with dinner. But when she got to the kitchen, it was empty. She glanced at the clock. It was fifteen till and her friend liked to eat early so they were done by the time the writers came back from dinner.
Cat wandered upstairs to the third floor and knocked on Shauna’s door. When no one answered, she tried the knob. It was unlocked. Cat peeked inside, but Shauna wasn’t asleep on the bed. Instead, two photos lay on the bed. One was a picture of two dark-headed kids. Probably still in elementary school, grinning at the camera like they were clowns. The second was a more recent shot. Shauna and a man who looked like the boy in the other picture, but grown up, looked solemnly into the camera. No joy on either face, the picture contrasted the other like night and day. Shauna had been trying to reconnect with the brother of her memories. Instead, she got the financial planner from hell.
Life wasn’t fair.
She shut the door. If Shauna wasn’t in her room or the kitchen, there was one more place to look. The barn.
As she reached the lobby, she saw her uncle and Shirley coming in the front door. “You’re here.”
Shirley threw herself into Cat’s arms and squeezed. “It’s so good to see you.”
Cat, a little surprised at the over-the-top emotion, patted the woman on her back. Finally, Shirley released her. “You too. Did you have a good flight?”
“I had to change planes twice. Who goes to Seattle and then Los Angeles just to get to Denver?” She glanced around the lobby. “This place hasn’t changed a bit. Maybe I’ll do some writing in my room since Pete has told me I’ve made the trip for nothing.”
“That’s not quite what I said. I just have to solve the murder of this gold miner and then we can go to Denver this weekend, like we planned.” He focused on Cat. “Tell me you’re going to keep her busy this week so I don’t have to feel guilty.”
“I’m kind of busy with the retreat,” Cat reminded him. “Of course, as a graduate, Shirley’s welcome to attend any of our sessions, but I’m not going to be able to play tour guide.”
Shirley patted her hand. “And no one expects you to babysit me. I know my way around. I’ll attend some of the seminars, wander through the campus, and maybe even do some writing. I haven’t picked up the manuscript for a few weeks. This could be a good thing for me.”
“I’m so sorry about the change in my schedule. At least when I go to Alaska, they don’t call me back to work a case.” He pulled her into a hug. “We should just meet up there instead of me trying to save a few vacation days.”
“Yet. They haven’t called you back yet. And it’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure I’ve said that a few times now.” She focused on Cat. “How many times does it take for your uncle to get the point?”
“I’m not sure I’ve even reached it.” Cat handed Shirley a key. “Shauna said she already charged your card for the week, so if you feel abandoned and decide to leave early, we’ll refund you the days.”
“Cat! That’s a horrible thing to say.” Uncle Pete looked at her like she had a third head when she and Shirley started laughing. “Oh, I get it, play with the old guy’s emotions. See if you can get a rise out of him.”
“She’s a chip off the old block.” Shirley took the key. “Did Seth get my luggage upstairs?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cat closed the desk where they kept the keys and locked it. “We’ll be having dinner as soon as I find Shauna. You’re welcome to stay.”
“Your uncle is taking me to that Mexican restaurant we went the last day of the retreat. But I’m sure I’ll see you all soon.” She turned and smiled at Uncle Pete. “Talk to your niece for a few minutes. I’ll run upstairs and get ready.”
Uncle Pete followed Cat into the kitchen, where Shauna was working at the stove. “I thought she was lost.”
“She was.” Cat paused by her friend. “Where were you? I went upstairs to find you, but you weren’t in your room.”
When Shauna turned toward her, Cat could see she’d been crying. “I was blowing off some steam with Snow. Jake called because he didn’t like my e-mail answer, so the conversation got a little heated.”
Uncle Pete poured himself a cup of coffee. “Shauna, there’s some things you should know about your brother.”
“Like he’s a jerk and a crook and was trying to steal my money? Those kind of things?” Shauna brushed a stray tear off her cheek. “Your newsflash is a little late. I’m already quite aware of what he can do.”
“I’m sorry, Shauna.” Cat put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. She didn’t deserve this, not while she was still grieving the loss of her boyfriend. It wasn’t fair. Family should be there for one another, not just to make money.
Shauna turned back to the stove. “It is what it is, Cat. You can’t expect a leopard to change its spots. I’d just hoped for more.”
“If you need backup, you let me know. I don’t want him pressuring you.” Uncle Pete watched Shauna’s ladder-straight back. “You deserve a lot more.”
She turned and walked over to where he sat. Then she kissed him on the cheek. “I have everything I need. A group of friends who love and respect me. And a horse in the barn.”
“Don’t forget the cats. You have cats to play with,” Cat added to the thankful list.
The door opened and Shirley came in. She paused at the edge of the room. “I’ve interrupted something.”
Cat stepped toward her, trying to give Shauna some time to compose herself. “Not at all, you’re right on time. I’m jealous of your dinner tonight. That should be
lovely. I only get to the restaurant on retreat weeks now.”
“I love the food there. Especially the margaritas.” Shirley came and sat next to Uncle Pete. “But I’m not positive this is the best time for you to take off from the case. Are you sure you have time?”
“I have to eat. And if I get to eat with such pleasant company, it’s a bonus in my eyes.” He patted her hand. “The case will keep. I’ve run into a dead end and need to let the clues settle in my head.”
“I’m an excellent listener if you need to bounce off some theories.” Shirley squeezed his hand.
“I wish that line worked on him when I said it.” Cat met Shauna’s gaze. “He tends to get grumpy when I try and help. Doesn’t he, Shauna?”
“Don’t drag your friend into this. Besides, I get grumpy because you’re not a professional. One of these days you’re going to get hurt or wind up in the wrong place.” Uncle Pete put a finger to his lips. “Oh, wait, that already happened last month.”
“I was just looking for Shauna, honest.” Cat held up her hand. “And I wasn’t hurt.”
“You’re lucky. That’s all. You always have been walking under a heavenly star. Your mom said she was going to make you a pillow with Where Angels Fear to Tread embroidered on the front.” He stood and held his hand out to Shirley. “We need to get going if we’re going to make our reservation.”
“Have a great night,” Cat called after them.
But they were lost in each other. They waved, distractedly; then Cat heard Uncle Pete whisper to Shirley, “You look lovely.”
After they left the room, Cat shook her head. “Man, they’re so sweet I feel like I’m going to get diabetes.”
“I think they’re cute together. And such a perfect match. Maybe you should write a crime mystery about two retired police officers who solve crimes together while falling in love.” Shauna stirred something on the stove.
“That’s an idea, but I’m not much on the cozy mystery type of story.” Although Cat had to admit, the idea had legs. And maybe would touch a chord with the readers. It could be something she should look at . . .
“Cat? Where’s Seth?” Shauna asked, and broke Cat’s train of thought.
“He ran to the apartment. Do you know he has a trunk with his army stuff in it?” Cat went to the counter and grabbed plates and silverware. “It’s kind of creepy, keeping all that stuff, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s lovely. It’s a way for him to reconnect when things get mixed up, and memory is a funny thing. Sometimes it plays tricks on you. Better to have documented proof of what actually happened. That’s why I journal every day. I want my life to matter.”
Cat wasn’t sure what journaling had to do with having a life purpose, but since this was the most words her friend had said since getting home from New York City, she let the comparison go.
The door flew open and Seth stepped inside. “Where’s Pete? I need to show him something.”
“What did you find?”
Seth held up a leather journal. “I wrote notes about my time in the army. I thought maybe you would—well, never mind. But when I went back to read about Chance’s death, I’d forgotten one piece. They never found a body.”
Chapter 8
“Well, that makes sense now, but why did they think he was dead?” Cat watched as Seth paced the room. “Didn’t you say they’d brought back a body?”
“They did. It just wasn’t Chance’s. After reading my notes, I realized there were a couple of guys who were on the same mission. They found one guy, but the other two, the commander told us they’d died in a fire. I assumed they’d found the body later, especially since the base held a memorial for all three. It was a crazy time and I was assigned on a different project and working ten- to twelve-hour shifts when this all went down. Security on the base went up and we were locked in for several weeks after the incident.”
“So he might have just disappeared.” Cat reached for the journal. Seth tucked it under his arm.” Where is Pete again? The station said he checked out to come here.”
“To come here and pick up Shirley for dinner. You missed him by about fifteen minutes.” Shauna nodded to the table. “Sit down and we’ll eat and you can tell us what’s in the journal.”
“I’m going to run up to my room for a minute and I’ll be right down.” Seth left the kitchen before either woman could speak.
“What’s in the journal he didn’t want you to see?” Shauna set a plate of pan-fried pork chops on the table.
“You got that feeling too?” Cat shook her head. “No clue, but he’s being pretty closemouthed about the time he was in Germany. Maybe he was on a top-secret project?”
“Could be true, but he said he was keeping the journal for you.” Shauna returned to the table with a baking dish with bubbly macaroni and cheese right out of the oven.
Cat nodded to the fridge. “I’m not going to ask because obviously he wants to keep me out of it. Do you want something to drink?”
The rest of dinner, a steaming bowl of green beans cooked with a few bacon crumbles, was placed on the table, and Seth arrived seconds after that. He always was good at showing up right on time for meals. Even when they were dating in high school, Seth ate with her family on most nights.
The conversation turned to things not murder as they enjoyed dinner. When a door shut in the front, Cat hurried and put her plate in the sink. “Sorry, I’ve got to run and play hostess. Do you need me to take anything out to the dining room?”
“Already set up for the night.” Shauna waved her off. “Go play with your writer friends.”
“I’m going up to my room to watch the game.” Seth cut a piece of chocolate cake and put it on a plate. “Let me know when Pete comes in. I’ve texted him, but he might not check his phone before he leaves.”
“With an active investigation? I’m sure he’s at least monitoring it.” Cat paused at the door. She thought about pushing Seth on the journal, but then dismissed the idea. She had guests in the house. If she and Seth needed a talk, it would have to wait until after they got on the plane on Sunday.
She moved through the hallway and saw Brodie in the dining room. He was refilling his coffee and had a plate filled with treats sitting on the table waiting. “Hey, are you the only one back?”
He nodded, carefully checking the seal on his travel mug. “They were all still chatting about houses and married life, so I came back to write.”
“What are you working on?” Cat took a brownie and broke it in two. She sat down on one of the chairs and watched him.
He glanced around, checking to see if anyone was in the room. Even though the room was empty, he dropped his voice. “I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us, but I’m writing a young adult fantasy book.”
“Really? I didn’t peg you for a fantasy guy.” Cat studied Brodie. His blond hair and too-straight teeth could have gotten him elected to any office on campus. Fantasy geeks were usually less Brooks Brothers than Brodie portrayed. She guessed he hadn’t had a lesson in branding yet, and she mentally added it to the list of things to talk about. Readers liked it when their favorite authors were a lot like them. And Brodie looked prelaw, not swords and sorcery.
He sank into his chair. “I haven’t told anyone, not even my professors. They think I’m writing some crime thriller and they always want to read it. I’ve tried, but when I sat down to start this, the words just flowed. And I’m fighting for every sentence with the other book. Do you think I’m making a mistake?”
“You have to go where your muse is taking you. Writing should be fun. Your first reader is you. And if you’re not having fun, neither will your readers.” She leaned back in her chair and broke the rest of the brownie in half again. “So what do you love to read?”
“Tolkien, Robert Jordan, Katherine Kurtz.” He sighed. “My folks didn’t approve of me wanting to write for a living. They said I needed a real job to fall back on when I failed with writing.”
That was less
than supporting. Cat didn’t say the thought aloud. Instead, she nodded. “I get that they are worried about you. Being an author is a hard road to go down. You have to be at the right place at the right time to break out. But writing something that’s not authentic to your voice, that’s a guaranteed way to fail. Your readers will feel the conflict in your story. And not in a good way.”
“So you think it’s okay? That the book will sell?” Hope seeped into his eyes.
Cat took another brownie and repeated the process, breaking it in half. “All I can say is if you don’t try, you’ll never know. Let your professors read your stuff. Write as much as possible. Then make a decision. Right now, you’re failing without even trying to succeed.”
“I already told the group I was working on a crime fiction book.” He shook his head. “I feel like such a liar.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to admit to anyone when you’re doing something that is so close to your heart. Be open with the group. They’ll understand.” Cat smiled and thought of her past retreat writers. “And if they don’t, well, you’ll probably never have to see or talk to them again. They are a great critique group for you because you’re not invested in what they think.”
“You’re brilliant.” He jumped up from his chair. “I’m going to go write and tomorrow, when we’re having breakfast, I’m going to let them know what I’m writing and apologize for lying. Do you mind if I use the study on this floor?”
“Not a problem at all. And it sounds like you’ve got a solid plan for the week.” Cat stood and followed him to the study. “I just need to grab my laptop off the desk.”
She left him there and settled into the living room to play with her new story. It was good to write something different. Some people never found their true voice because they want to write what they think will sell or worse, what they think they should write. People needed to realize that writing is all about telling the story. And if you don’t like the story you’re writing, write something different. She opened her word processing document and got lost in the world she was building.
