‘If you mean warm milk, fine. I never drink liquor when I have a patient.’
‘You’re the best nurse in the world.’
‘Yes, I am,’ Audrey deadpanned.
‘Fix your milk. I’m having a rum and cola. If there’s rum around, that is.’
‘Spiced rum. Grace still wants a spiced rum and cola every night before she goes to sleep since she broke her hip. She was really mad at me when I told her she couldn’t mix alcohol with her medications.’
‘She’s used to getting her own way.’ Vanessa asked seriously, ‘How do you think she’s doing with the Alzheimer’s? She could hardly follow what was on TV tonight and kept telling us what a character had said ten minutes ago.’
‘It’s always worse at night, Nessa. “Sun downing”, they call it. But she’s declining.’ Audrey hesitated then plunged on. ‘She can’t live alone anymore. When her hip gets better, she’ll have to get a companion or go to a convalescent home.’
‘She’s that bad?’
‘I don’t think she can navigate this big house anymore. I’m not a doctor, though. When her hip is better, she should have an MRI to see how far the Alzheimer’s has progressed. But don’t worry about it tonight, Nessa.’
They fixed their drinks and sat down at one end of the long, wooden kitchen table, Queenie settling down beside Vanessa. ‘Tell me about Derek.’
‘I met him at the school’s fall festival. He attends all of Sammy’s school events he can. We talked quite a bit that day. He asked me out to dinner. I hadn’t had a date for over a year but he made me so comfortable. He was charming yet sincere. Then we went out to lunch. Then we took the kids for a long walk on the beach.’
‘And then?’
‘Then your grandmother broke her hip.’
‘Oh, what bad timing! Couldn’t another nurse have taken the job?’
‘Probably, but Grace wanted me. She also had no problem with Cara staying here with me.’ Audrey smiled. ‘And I have to earn a living.’
‘Grace told me Derek is divorced.’
‘Yes. His wife Nia left Everly Cliffs over two years before Derek started divorce proceedings, which took another six months to be finalized. He’s been legally divorced for four months but Nia has never tried to see him or Sammy since she left town.’
‘She didn’t want custody of Sammy?’
‘No, but oh Lord, Derek doesn’t want Sammy to know that! It would break his heart to know his mother didn’t want him. You see, Nia had another man who didn’t want Sammy.’
‘And Nia chose the man. How could a woman give up her child so easily?’
‘Don’t ask me. Cara is the center of my life. But Nia was a different kind of woman. She’s beautiful and Derek said she was always drawn to other men, to put it politely. She never settled in to being a wife and mother, especially a mother. Sammy sensed it. He wasn’t close to Nia like he was Derek. Still, knowing you were rejected by your mother—’
‘Would be a bitter pill to swallow. My mother didn’t love me like she did Roxanne, but at least she made an effort to appear that she cared. Sometimes.’ Vanessa shook her head. ‘Children always realize the truth, though.’
Audrey patted her hand. ‘I’m so sorry you didn’t have a mother like mine. If I can be half the parent she is, I’ll be happy.’
‘You are, Audrey. Cara knows how much you love her. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at you. Are you missing your mother this Christmas?’
‘Yes, but she’s visiting her sister in San Francisco. I know they’re having fun together.’
Vanessa took a sip of her drink and said thoughtfully, ‘I was having a rum and cola when Wade called me about Roxy. If I hadn’t had rum to bolster me, I think I would have fainted.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But I had another call that sent me to my knees.’
Audrey raised her eyebrows. ‘Why? Who called?’
Vanessa closed her eyes. ‘I don’t know.’
‘What do you mean you don’t know?’
‘I mean it was an anonymous call. And it came on the smartphone – our phone, Audrey.’
‘But how did someone get the number?’ Audrey stiffened. ‘You don’t think I gave it out, do you?’
‘I know you didn’t give it to anyone.’
‘I don’t have it written down, Vanessa. Not anywhere. I didn’t open my purse and drop a piece of paper out with your private phone number on it. Is that what you think happened? That I was careless?’
Audrey’s cheeks were red. Her blue eyes were large and her hands clenched with indignation.
‘Audrey, I trust you with my life – with my grandmother’s life. I certainly trust you with a phone number. I don’t know how someone got it. Maybe there are a dozen ways someone could – I’m not a tech wizard. I’m only trying to tell you what happened last night. Please don’t make it about you because it isn’t.’
Audrey’s breath came fast for another minute before the color in her face began to fade and she slowly relaxed. She took a sip of her milk then said softly, ‘I’m sorry, Vanessa. You’re going through so much and I’m throwing a fit. I know you didn’t mean to hurt my feelings. You’d never try to do that.’
‘You’re going through a lot, too. As for my never meaning to hurt someone’s feelings, I don’t think Christian Montgomery would agree after the things I said to him this afternoon. I was awful.’
Audrey took a drink of her milk then said carefully, ‘I have my opinion about you and Christian, especially seeing your face when you talk about him, but I’m not going to venture into that subject tonight. Now tell me about the phone call. When did it come?’
‘Right before Wade’s call telling me Roxy was home. I looked at the caller ID and it said ‘unknown’. A couple of seconds after I picked it up, this godawful voice asked, “Is she there? Is she with you?”’
‘What does a “godawful” voice mean?’
‘Grinding. Screeching. It was mechanically altered. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.’
‘And then?’
‘I said something about the person having a wrong number and they answered, “I don’t. Tell me!” Finally they told me not to play the fool and to remember a George Michael song. I’d better be “praying for time”.’
‘Praying for time?’
‘Don’t you remember George Michael’s “Praying for Time”? It’s not my favorite song but it would be in my top ten. Audrey, who would know I liked a song that came out in 1990 and that I didn’t even hear until I was a teenager?’
Audrey’s lips had parted. She looked thoughtful, surprised, and frightened at the same time. ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t even know the song.’
‘That’s what I mean. It isn’t as if I went around singing it all the time. Or ever. I can’t remember mentioning to someone that I liked it, even when George Michael died.’
‘Somebody you told casually without even realizing it.’ Audrey’s blue eyes grew anxious. ‘That call came from someone you know, Vanessa.’
Around eleven o’clock, Audrey checked on Grace, who slept peacefully, and Cara curled up in a bed in the big combination sitting room-bedroom off the kitchen that had once been used by the succession of cooks the Everlys had kept until about fifteen years ago. ‘It’s large enough for two – a full bed, a dresser and chairs, and keeps me fairly close to Grace,’ Audrey told Vanessa. ‘I have a baby monitor hidden beside Grace’s bed in case she calls out or tries to get up. She’d be outraged if she knew I was keeping track of her with a baby monitor!’ Audrey laughed. ‘She’s so independent.’
‘She always was. Does Cara mind sleeping in the downstairs bedroom?’
‘She loves it. There’s a big window with a nice view. We have a television and a desk for her schoolwork and plenty of closet space. And frankly, she didn’t want to sleep upstairs. She thinks it’s creepy because of the lighthouse, which she’s sure is haunted.’
Vanessa grinned. ‘Maybe it is, although I slept upstairs for eig
hteen years and made it to adulthood.’ She yawned. ‘It’s been a long, stressful day to say the least. I think I’ll go to bed, too. Upstairs. But don’t worry – I have Queenie to protect me.’
‘Sleep well, Vanessa. Everything will look better tomorrow.’
‘I’m holding you to that, Audrey.’
Vanessa climbed the curving staircase to the second-floor landing. Long ago Grace had told her that Victorian houses had several stories, but Edwardians like Everly House usually only had two floors and fewer, smaller fireplaces because the use of electricity had become more common. Vanessa had always loved the house and thought her ancestor Abraham had done a wonderful job with its design.
Queenie walked behind her, all the while clutching her beloved Dom in her jaws. ‘Which bedroom shall we sleep in tonight?’ Vanessa asked the dog. ‘There are five up here. Five! Can you imagine? We’re not used to more than one!’
Vanessa peeked into the bedrooms: the guest bedroom done in shades of blue; Roxanne’s old bedroom, a pink confection that hadn’t been changed one bit since she was seven; Vanessa’s lavender and pale-yellow bedroom; a room Ellen had occupied in her later years drearily furnished in gray and white, and finally the master bedroom that Grace had redecorated after her son died and Ellen had departed the house.
The walls were painted a muted, light gold. A large Persian rug in brown, beige, olive-green and peach lay on the mahogany flooring beside a four-poster bed covered with an olive-green and gold bedspread and cream-colored embroidered pillows. Gleaming Sheraton furniture sat around the room holding various colorful porcelain and glass collectibles. An oval mirror sat above a beautiful dressing table.
But it was the fireplace that grabbed her attention. It was black cast iron with a golden oak frame and canopy. There were sliders at either side of the fireplace opening that were lined with tile sets showing beautiful climbing green vines and yellow roses, Grace’s favorite flower.
‘Wow, quite a difference for us!’ Vanessa exclaimed to Queenie, who was inspecting herself in a tall, framed cheval mirror, Dom still clutched firmly in her mouth. ‘Grace outdid herself!’ As she looked around the room, Vanessa noticed a twenty-four-inch flat-screen television sitting on a modern stand. ‘Thank goodness. I can’t go to sleep without watching at least fifteen minutes of TV.’
She knew Grace must have been sad to leave her beautiful room and move downstairs. She’d only gotten to enjoy it for a short time. But maybe, when she recovered from the broken hip, she’d be able to return for a while. Maybe, Vanessa thought wistfully, although the reason for her fall made that possibility unlikely.
Pete had carried her luggage to this room. He’d known her mind even before she’d decided to stay here. But then Pete had always known her mind, just like Grace did.
‘This is it, Queenie,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry you don’t have a doggie bed. I’ll get one for you. I’m afraid it’s the floor for you and Dom tonight.’
Vanessa had remembered to bring flannel pajamas for the cooler temperatures in Everly Cliffs. She buttoned up the top and gazed at herself disconsolately in the mirror. ‘Hardly a sex symbol. Queen Na’dya wouldn’t be caught dead in these.’ She laid her velour robe and house slippers near the bed, then went into the adjoining bathroom to wash her face and put on a layer of expensive night cream, an indulgence she’d allowed herself when she signed on for Kingdom of Corinna. She needed to keep her complexion looking its best for the cameras.
Back in the bedroom, she slid under the elegant sheets and blankets of Grace’s bed and flipped on the television. Leaning back against the thick down pillows, she realized how desperately tired she was, yet her thoughts raced. She could see poor, thin, scratched and bruised Roxanne. She replayed the scene where Roxanne held out her arm and in a horrific voice imitated someone cajoling her into making ‘a nice big vein’ for an injection. An injection of what? Heroin? And a demoralized Roxanne who had simply turned her head, waiting for what would come. Then there had been news of the abortion. When had it been performed? When she was a teenager? Had she gotten proper care afterward? Had it been the only one? And finally, she’d learned that Brody Montgomery had disappeared from his home and business in Portland. Schizophrenic Brody Montgomery, who had been the number one suspect in Roxanne’s kidnapping. Now she was home and suddenly he was missing. Where was he? Had he followed Roxanne to Everly Cliffs?
Throughout the evening Vanessa had tried to seem calm for the sakes of Audrey, Cara, and Grace, but really she’d never been as shaken in her life except for when Roxy had been kidnapped. Tonight, in front of Grace, she had performed the greatest acting job of her life by acting cheerful and casual and now she was exhausted. But not sleepy. Anything except sleepy.
‘Oh, this is useless.’ Vanessa reached for the remote control and turned off the television. She needed the oblivion of sleep, but the scenes from the day kept flashing behind her closed eyes. She thought of going downstairs and asking Audrey if she had any mild sleeping pills, but she didn’t want to disturb her and Cara. If I lie here long enough, she thought, I’m likely to fall asleep out of sheer fatigue. After all, I didn’t sleep last night, either. My body is worn out.
Vanessa burrowed determinedly under the covers and forced her eyes closed. Maybe a sleep mask would help, but she didn’t own one. She tossed twice, frustrated. Then, in less than ten minutes, she heard a muted thudding noise. Queenie’s head shot up as she gazed at the wall.
She sat up in bed and looked at the left side of the bedroom, where the wall separated the room from the four-story lighthouse-inspired tower Abraham Everly had built so he could look out at the ocean. The tower was narrower than a real lighthouse, with a spiral staircase that led to a top room furnished with a few pieces of furniture and a telescope placed in front of the circle of storm windows. A small door opened to a railed gallery outside of the windows so they could be cleaned and maintained regularly. Although there was no rotating beacon light that spun in the night, the tower was wired for electricity. The lighting had been updated over the years and now flush florescent sconces lined the walls leading to the top, which was called the Lantern Room. Abraham, the father of five young children when he built the house, had been adamant that there be no entrances from the house to the tower for fear that a child would find its way into the tower and fall on the steep stairway. The only entrance was an outside ground-floor door that was always locked.
Vanessa sat looking at the wall. Nothing. I must have imagined it, she thought. Then she heard what sounded like a footstep on the stairs. The step was stealthy but the foot that made it definitely wore a shoe. And then she heard another.
She climbed out of bed and crouched by the wall. Queenie got up and came to stand beside her, her head tilted slightly. For five minutes Vanessa held absolutely still against the wall. ‘Pete?’ she finally called, although she couldn’t think of a reason why Pete would be in the tower. Only silence answered.
At last she said loudly, ‘I must be having nightmares, Queenie,’ hoping her voice carried through the wall. ‘Let’s watch TV then go back to bed.’
She turned on the television then padded loudly back to the bed. She watched the minute hand of the clock move. One, two, three – she slid quietly out of bed, tiptoed back to the wall and pressed her ear against it. She heard a faint scratching noise, about five feet to her right. She went cold all over.
Someone was in the tower.
Who?
Brody Montgomery?
Nearly blind with panic, Vanessa looked around for her cellphone and called Pete. He answered with a sleepy, ‘’Lo?’
‘Pete, someone’s in the lighthouse!’ she hissed. ‘I can hear him on the stairs!’
Pete’s voice was husky with sleep. ‘What? Oh! Be right there soon as I find my key. Don’t go outside, Miss Vanessa.’
Vanessa dropped her phone, slid her feet into her house slippers and shrugged into her velour robe. Queenie was turning in circles, alarmed, but followed Vanessa as she
opened the bedroom door, rushed from the room and down the stairway to the front door. Vanessa found the key to the tower in the drawer in a small white antique bureau desk beside the door, thinking that Pete might not be able to find his key and the door locked from the outside. Maybe the intruder had gotten locked in – I should call the police, Vanessa thought in a distant, reasonable place in her brain. Instead, she grabbed her grandfather’s large oak walking cane that had rested in the umbrella stand ever since his death. I should stay inside like Pete said, she told herself as she opened the front door and braced herself against the cold air. But her body wasn’t listening to her mind.
She stepped out on the porch and looked around her. Two carriage-style lamps softly illuminated the walkway up to the porch. Much farther down the bank near the road, halogen lights shone brightly. A gentle wind blew the limbs of the three evergreen trees near the house and the full moon cast a surreal, metallic glow over the grounds.
Something hit the inside of the tower door with a loud thud and Vanessa jumped. She turned on her flashlight then began creeping down the porch stairs. A voice inside her screamed for her to stop. This was dangerous – beyond dangerous. But the thought of an intruder being so close to her grandmother, to Audrey and Cara, terrified her to the point of overcoming caution. She hardly realized she was edging toward the tower, holding the cane like a baseball bat, Queenie barking uproariously behind her.
Then Pete McGuire ran past her, nearly reached the tower door, let out a wail and fell hard.
Vanessa rushed to him. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Damn! Wrenched my knee. Get back on the porch!’
But she didn’t. She took four steps closer to the tower door. With a crash it flew open, slamming into her body, hitting her forehead, and knocking her flat on her back. She was vaguely aware of someone dashing out and heading away from her. ‘Get him!’ she yelled at Queenie, but the dog stood firm, licking Vanessa’s face. Her head swam as she struggled to push Queenie aside and managed to sit up in time to see someone disappear into the nearby woods.
Praying for Time Page 7
