"Oh my. However did he manage to find that out?"
"It's what he does and he's damned good at it. Well, I feel better for eating that sandwich. Now for this cheesecake you've brought me. A man has to eat," he said with a grin as he tucked into a large slab of dark chocolate cheesecake.
"Scott honey, you eat as much as you want. You have a large frame to fill and you need to keep your energy levels up. I'll go and put in an appearance downstairs for a half an hour and then I'll organise some more coffee." Violet bustled out of the room, eager to tell Herb and Precious the latest developments.
When she returned with the coffee, Scott was speaking on his cell phone and looking concerned. "Ok Mike. Thanks for that. Do you have the address of the nursing home? She'll likely be heading there once she finds out." He scribbled something down on a sheet of paper, but as the conversation continued, his face fell. "Damn. I was hoping to meet her there." He spoke into the phone for another few minutes, making notes as he did so. "Cheers buddy. Thanks for that. Stay in touch." He shoved his cell phone back in his pocket.
"What's happened?" asked Violet.
"Hannah Odell sold her house in Austin seven years ago and moved into a nursing home. Unfortunately she died there last year."
"Oh what a shame. And how sad for Carla, hoping for a reunion. Poor kid. She'll be even more upset now."
"Mike also managed to track down the phone number of the people who bought Hannah's house. They're still living there. He gave them a call." Scott paused and smiled at Violet. "Seems that Carla turned up there three hours ago - so at least we know she made the long drive. That's something, isn't it."
"It sure is." Violet breathed a sigh of relief.
Scott continued, "The new folks weren't aware that Hannah had died, but they did know that she'd sold up to move into the nursing home - and they gave Carla the address and directions on how to get there. But, Mike contacted the nursing home and confirmed that Carla turned up, and after being told the news, left half an hour later with a small bundle of Hannah's personal effects."
"Where will she go now? I don't know how much money she has - she'll have spent a fair amount on transport and motels - oh dear. I wish she'd come home. What do we do now?"
"You carry on as normal and try not to worry. I'm on my way back to Texas right now." Scott drained the coffee dregs from the bottom of the cup and got to his feet. "I'm going to find her, Violet. I promise you that." He gave her a hug.
Violet clung like a limpet to the tall broad-shouldered Texan. "I know you will, Scott. I know you will."
---oOo---
Carla cursed the car again. What the hell possessed me to buy this old pile of poop? Why didn't I just hop on a plane. Damn. Damn. Damn!
The 2001 Chevrolet had looked so inviting in the used car lot. She'd thought it was cheap because it was a bargain, not because it had 126,500 miles on the clock and was a worn out clapped out pile of old junk! The darn thing was heavy on gas and the engine kept making funny rattling noises. The gears were stiff and squeaky and the highly uncomfortable driver's seat must have a spring loose because she seemed to be constantly bouncing up and down on it. Also, the smoke that was coming out of the exhaust was getting thicker and darker, and it stunk vile. Carla desperately hoped she'd get to Texas without being pulled over by the Highway Patrol.
She didn't enjoy the journey at all and felt stressed and tired, but when she arrived in Austin she punched the air with a fist.
"Thanks, car. We made it!"
In response, the engine whined and coughed and the exhaust started to misfire. It was at that point that Carla realised that the car would never get her back home to Oregon and that she was darned lucky to have made it this far. Sighing, she scrabbled in her purse for Aunt Hannah's address and fervently hoped her aunt still resided there.
After a brief stop for a cold drink, Carla climbed back into her antiquated vehicle. According to the street map, she was less than ten miles from Aunt Hannah's house. She had fond memories of being a little girl and writing letters and receiving letters back from her aunt. That interchange had gradually stopped during Carla's early teens, but Carla's mom had said not to worry, that aunt Hannah was just old and forgetful. After all, Aunt Hannah was Marie's (Carla's mom) aunt, and a great aunt to Carla, so was obviously getting on in years. Carla just hoped she was still alive and well and would welcome her into her home after all these years without contact.
She was both excited and nervous when she pulled up outside the house. It was small, and brightly painted with a pretty yard. There were lots of flowers blooming in big pots. She walked slowly on the path and up the three steps that led to the front door. Taking a deep breath, she knocked. And waited.
Footsteps sounded, drawing closer. There was a click of the latch and the rattle of the doorknob as it was turned from the inside. The door opened, revealing a pleasant-looking woman with brown hair threaded with grey. She was so much younger than Carla expected.
"Aunt Hannah! It's me, Carla. It's so wonderful to see you. I -"
"Aunt Hannah?" The woman's face creased into a puzzled frown. "Oh - I take it you mean Hannah Odell?"
"Yes. Er, sorry. I thought... I thought..." Her voice trailed off.
"I'm sorry dear, but I'm not your aunt Hannah. My husband and I bought this house from her several years back." Seeing the disappointment on the young woman's face, she opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Look, why don't you come on in. I'll fix us a drink and some fresh baked cookies, huh? Come inside. Please."
Carla sat in a sunshine yellow kitchen. It had yellow gingham drapes at the window and a matching cloth on the table. She accepted a plate of cookies and a cup of coffee and smiled at her hostess. "I'm really sorry to barge in on you like this. I don't mean to intrude."
"Don't you worry about that. I enjoy having visitors - don't get many these days. I'm Casey Riley. Here, let me top your coffee up." Casey fussed and clucked like a mother hen when she learned that her unexpected visitor had driven all the way from Newport, Oregon. "You must be exhausted, hon. All this way, and your aunt isn't here any more."
"Is she... is she still alive? We haven't kept in touch you see, so I don't know her circumstances."
"I can't answer that question. But Lordy, I sure hope she is. When she sold up, she was deteriorating - told us she'd been diagnosed with Alzheimer's and that it was steadily getting worse."
"Oh. That's really awful. I had no idea. Poor aunt Hannah." Carla put down her cookie, her appetite evaporating. "So where did she go? Do you know?"
To Carla's intense relief, Casey nodded. "She arranged to go live in Hummingbird Hill. I'd say it's an hour or so's drive from here. I can give you directions." She produced a pen and began scribbling on the back of an enveloped. "Here you go, hon."
"I'm so grateful Casey. You've been very kind. Thank you." Carla stood up.
"You sure I can't persuade you to stay awhile longer? I can fix you up a sandwich if you're hungry?"
Carla smiled at the woman's hospitality. "Thanks, but no. I'm anxious to find her."
"I never kept in touch with her - no reason to, really as we didn't know each other. She did seem a nice woman though, and I've kept the house and yard in the way she'd like it, I'm sure. You be sure to tell her that. But..." A shadow crossed her face. "Hon - we don't know if she's still living. You should... prepare yourself... just in case."
Carla nodded. She hoped very much that her aunt was alive and well. She also hoped the old car would get her to Hummingbird Hill without exploding and falling apart.
Taking her leave of Casey Riley, Carla got back in the car. The engine turned over straight away, but the exhaust rattled noisily, and as she drove off it began to misfire and make a noise like a jumbo jet. Carla carried on stoically, willing the contraption to hold together until she reached her destination. Buying this pile of junk had been a costly mistake. She cursed herself yet again for not getting on a plane. The car purchase had bitten a rather large hole in her
savings. She still had money, but it was fast dwindling. But now wasn't the time to dwell on her financial situation. All that mattered right now was to reach Hummingbird Hill and find Aunt Hannah.
The old car struggled and wheezed its way up a steep slope, the exhaust belching out black oily smoke. But there was the sign - Hummingbird Hill - such a nice sounding name. When she turned into the driveway, Carla was impressed. The place nestled among acres of mature trees, not far from the west bank of the Colorado River at one of the highest points in the area, enabling spectacular views of the Austin skyline and the surrounding areas. The grounds were well maintained, with flowers blooming everywhere.
Carla pulled into the parking lot, and the old car hissed and rattled as she switched off the ignition. She left it, and made her way to the reception area where she was greeted by a young woman with a vibrant smile.
"Hi. I'm looking for a relative of mine - my aunt. I understand she moved here a few years ago."
"Of course. May I have her name please?"
"Hannah Odell." Carla watched as the woman keyed the details into the computer.
"I'm sorry. I don't see her name here on our list of residents. Would you excuse me a moment. I'll make further enquiries."
Carla felt a bleakness descend. If Aunt Hannah's name wasn't on the residents list, that could only mean one thing. Her throat felt dry and her eyes prickled. Tears weren't very far away. All the horrible business with Lyle, and the stressful drive, all her hopes of finding aunt Hannah now appeared to be thwarted. She saw the young woman return, an apologetic and sympathetic expression on her face. She was accompanied by an older woman wearing a navy blue dress. This woman approached Carla and extended her hand.
"Good afternoon. I'm Hillary Westlake. I'm the manager here at Hummingbird Hill." She clasped Carla's hand in her own in a warm handshake. "Please - come into my office and we'll have a chat about your aunt."
Carla found herself seated in a plush armchair located in one corner of the spacious office. Hillary seated herself opposite. "I understand you are enquiring about Hannah Odell. Is that correct?"
"Yes," replied Carla. "How is she... Is she...?" he words trailed off.
"Forgive me for asking, but do you have any identification?"
"Yes. Yes of course," Carla fumbled in her purse and handed over her driver's licence. "My name is Carla Odell. Hannah is my great aunt."
Hilary glanced at the licence, nodded, and handed it back. "Thank you, Miss Odell. I am very sorry indeed to be the bearer of bad news."
"Oh no. She's dead, isn't she?"
"I'm afraid so, Miss Odell. Your aunt passed away a year ago. We had the pleasure of knowing her for a number of years. She was a lovely woman."
"How did she die?"
"Peacefully, in her sleep. She had Alzheimer's, and although her short term memory was very poor, the condition didn't affect her personality. She was warm hearted and cheerful to the end. We all loved her. She was a very important member of our little community and is much missed."
"Thank you. That's a very nice thing to say."
"Well, she was a very nice woman. Please accept my condolences for your loss."
"Thank you. I didn't know her very well and we lost touch some years ago, but I have fond memories of the lovely letters she used to send me. I'm so very sorry I didn't make it here sooner. I would so loved to have seen her and made up for lost time."
Hillary smiled as though she understood. "I'm glad you're here because we still have a few personal effects belonging to Hannah. Your mother said to throw them out, but I didn't have the heart to do so. I -"
"My mother?! Did you say my mother?" Carla's face paled as she stared at Hillary.
The older woman nodded. "Why yes. I was in touch with your mother after Hannah passed." Looking at Carla's stricken face, she added, "She didn't tell you?"
"No. She didn't." Carla sighed. "My mom and I - we don't get on very well and I rarely hear from her now. But I so wish she'd told me."
"Yes. It's such a shame she didn't. But - now that you are here, I think it would be nice for you to have her things. I'm afraid there's no money - she used what she had for her care. We disposed of her clothes and such. But I hung on to the more personal effects and put them in storage in the basement. And I'm glad that I did. There isn't much - just letters and diaries and photographs - but enough to remember her by. Shall I get them for you?" she asked gently.
"Please. I'd like to have them."
Hillary retrieved the items from storage and handed Carla a large envelope. Carla thanked her and made her way back out to the parking lot. Instead of sitting in the car, she settled down on the grass in the shade of a tree. Then she opened the envelope.
To her surprise and disgust she found several letters from her mother, asking Hannah for more money. Carla had no idea of how much Hannah had given her over the years, and she scanned the letters tight-lipped and grim faced. She had known from being in her early teens that her mom had a drink and drugs problem. She knew mom would have done anything to help fund her habit. But to think her mother hadn't even bothered to tell her that aunt Hannah had died! It was unforgivable. Really unforgivable. Carla shook her head, grief giving way to anger. Then as she sorted through the letters, there was a folded sheet of paper, and as she opened it and stared at the drawing, a big lump formed in her throat and tears trickled down her cheeks. For she held in her hand a sketch she herself had done as a child. It was a sketch of herself, with her cat George curled on her lap, and at the bottom she had written in a childish hand, To Aunt Hannah, this is a drawing of me and George. Happy Christmas and I hope you are well. Lots of love, Carla Odell, aged 11 years and 2 months.
To think Aunt Hannah had kept the sketch for all these years. It was so sad, yet so wonderfully heart-warming. Carla burst into tears. She cried for Aunt Hannah, and she cried for her mother, and she cried for herself. And when she got back in the car and it wouldn't start at all she got out and saw that the exhaust had fallen right off, she cried some more.
How long she sat in the car, she didn't know, but there came a point when her tears were dry. She grabbed her bag from the back seat and put Hannah's few personal effects in a zip-up side pocket. Then she set off walking. She would have to sort the car later - get a guy from a local garage to come tow it away and give her the scrap value for it - assuming there was any.
Carla walked aimlessly, not caring where she was going. Her head was full of sadness and though she wouldn't normally be so self indulgent in the self-pity stakes, right now she simply didn't care. Her thoughts returned again to Lyle, and she found she couldn't think of him independently - no - her head was riddled with images of him and that tart Becky Sue making out on the rug. More unshed tears began to prickle the corner of her eyes. She felt more downbeat than ever before.
She walked for almost two hours before she suddenly realised that the sunlight had faded into dusk - the time that she would normally have found magical, being the transition between day and night. But now there was no such magic. She was in a strange city with a broken heart and nowhere to go.
Buck up, girl, she told herself. Priority number one - find somewhere to stay the night. Priority number two -... Try as she might, she couldn't think what priority number two could be. "One thing at a time," she muttered.
Her feet had begun to ache by the time she found a cheap motel in the downtown area, and the shoulder strap on her bag had bitten and chafed her shoulder, making it sore and uncomfortable. It was with relief that she checked in, and once in her room, cast the bag down on the floor and eased off her shoes. The room was a bit dingy and could have been cleaner, but the bed cover and linen were freshly laundered, and the bed seemed comfortable. It would do.
Glancing at the room service menu, she ordered a half carafe of red wine and a pepperoni pizza with a side of salad. When the meal arrived, it was surprisingly good. She hadn't realised how hungry she was and she demolished the lot, leaving clean plates. The wine was me
llow and fruity. The alcohol content went to her head quickly in a warm, fuzzy and pleasurable way. She drank the first glass quickly but savoured the second, and then, replete, lay back on the bed, closed her eyes just for a moment - and slept soundly until morning.
---oOo---
Scott was a man with a mission. The handsome Texan had waited for months for Carla's relationship with Lyle to fizzle out, and it had taken a supreme effort of will on his part not to attempt to engineer the break-up before now. But he possessed integrity and patience in equal measure and firmly believed that if he was to have a relationship with Carla, then it would happen in its own good time, on the basis that she had to want it and make a commitment. Maybe now, being on the rebound, wasn't a good time for her to jump into the arms of another man - though of course he'd like it very much if she did. He decided he'd play it safe and non threatening, offer her friendship and support, and hope that when she was ready, the relationship would take on a whole new dynamic.
But first, he reminded himself, I have to find her. He continued to put his faith (and his money) in Mike Thompson. The likeable PI had done a great job so far, but they still hadn't tracked down Carla - yet. Mike assured him it was only a matter of time before they did so. The two men met up shortly after Scott arrived in Austin, and whilst appreciatively devouring extra large hamburgers and fries at a diner, planned the next stage of the operation.
Mike spread out a map on the table. "Ok - here's Hummingbird Hill." He jabbed a finger at a point on the map highlighted with yellow marker pen. "We now know she left the car in the parking lot here - jeez, what a pile of junk."
Scott nodded in agreement, thinking he'd spank her butt till it glowed for risking a long journey in that old rust bucket.
Mike continued. "My hunch is that she's bound to be somewhere within a ten mile radius, and the first thing she's going to do is - correction, second thing - is contact a service station to have the rust bucket towed away. I already checked to see if she signed up with triple A - she didn't - she has no breakdown insurance. So I'll contact all the local garages too and find out which one she called, and hopefully from there, get the info on where she is. Because the first thing she'll have done is find herself a place to stay. Now, according to her bank records -"
Love on a Ranch Box Set Page 24
