"I'll be there in a few minutes, Gianna. We'll figure it out."
"I'm probably making things worse by bringing you into it…"
"You couldn't make things worse."
"I really hope not," she said. But as she set down the phone, she wasn't so sure.
Chapter Thirteen
Zach drove as fast as he could to Gianna's store, his mind racing with what he'd just learned. The fact that Helen was drunk was shocking enough. He'd never seen her sip more than one glass of wine, but maybe she had secret problems like her daughter.
But breaking into the antiques store? What the hell was that about? Gianna had said that Helen was looking for something of Rebecca's in a desk that they'd sent to the store to sell. What on earth would that be?
He couldn't come up with one remotely possible answer.
Pulling into the back lot behind the store, he threw the car into park and jogged over to the door. Gianna must have been watching for him, because she opened the door and quickly pulled him inside.
"Where is she?" he asked.
She led him around some furniture, and he saw Helen on the floor. The sight of the very prim and proper woman sleeping on the floor like a baby made his jaw drop. Helen was always put together, in control, but she was not in control now.
"I tried to wake her," Gianna said. "But she's in a deep sleep."
"I can see that. Where is the desk?"
"It's in the showroom. Did you call Mitch?"
"Not yet. Show me the desk first."
"I already looked in it," she said, as she led him into the other room. "All the drawers are empty."
As she pointed out the desk to him, he checked the drawers for himself, but she was right; there was nothing there. "What exactly did Helen say?"
"She wasn't making a lot of sense. She said that she had to find it—but she didn't say what it was. I got the feeling the item belonged to Rebecca. She said Rebecca was secretive, and she probably hid it. But she had to find it. She hadn't known Ron was going to give Rebecca's things away. She begged me not to tell him she was here, that she was looking for it. Then she passed out. Does any of that make sense to you?"
"Not even a little bit. Although…" He paused, thinking about the conversation he'd had earlier with Mitch. "Mitch did say that when he was at the house last night, it looked like Rebecca's old room had been ransacked, and he was shocked, because his mom had turned it into a shrine for her daughter. She wouldn't even let Hailey stay there. So why would she tear it apart?"
"Maybe Helen started her search in Rebecca's room."
"But what is she looking for?"
"Perhaps Mitch will know."
"He didn't have a clue this morning."
"Well, you need to call him. We can't leave Helen on the floor all night."
"Maybe we can get her up to your apartment."
Gianna frowned at that suggestion. "I'd rather get her out of here, get her home."
"It's late. And you said she didn't want her husband to know what she'd done. He'll know if we take her home now."
She stared back at him, a suspicious gleam entering her eyes. "That's not the reason you want to keep her here. You want to talk to her when she wakes up. But she will not want to talk to you."
"She won't have a choice. I'll finally have an advantage. She'll be embarrassed and feeling guilty about what she did, what she might have said. Maybe I can get her to open up to me. I've always wondered why they hate me so much, why they're afraid of me. It doesn't add up. And I'm thinking that there's something else at play…something about Rebecca, something I don't know." He paused, seeing the uncertainty in Gianna's eyes. "This might be my best shot at getting Helen to talk. I have to take it."
"Even if we can get her upstairs, when she wakes up, she'll run out the second she sees you."
"Not if we let her know you're going to call the cops and report her break-in if she does that." He felt a rush of excitement. For the first time in forever, he felt like he had some leverage. "Please, Gianna, I need this."
"I don’t want to do anything to put my aunt's business in jeopardy. Helen and Ron Carver have a lot of influence in this town. They have power."
"Right now, she has no power. She's a drunk who broke into your store. Let's not forget that. She can't smear you without smearing herself."
"Good point. I don't know how she got in here. I thought I had locked everything up. She scared the crap out of me when I came inside."
"I can imagine." His gaze returned to the desk. It was white with a center drawer and three drawers running down the right side. He squatted down and looked underneath the desk, but there was nothing there, either.
"How many times are you going to look?" Gianna asked. "There's nothing there."
"I was remembering how Rebecca used to hide her pills in the apartment. After she went to rehab, I found them in all kinds of crazy places—the toe of a sock, inside a pasta box."
"She was that secretive?"
"Yes. So, if she hid something from her mom, it could be somewhere you wouldn't expect it to be."
"Well, it's not in this desk."
"It's somewhere."
"Unless she had it with her—in the apartment that burned down."
He frowned at that comment, because that was most likely what had happened. "You're right. It probably was in the apartment. Rebecca told me more than a few times that she was haunted. I thought she was talking about her own personal demons, but what if she wasn't? What if there was a secret? Maybe a family secret. I have to know what it is."
"I want to help you, but I'm walking a fine line here."
"You're in the power position, Gianna. Helen broke into your store. You can destroy her reputation."
"I suppose. But I don't want to do that. It could backfire. Her friends could boycott the store."
He understood that she had to protect her aunt and her business, but he needed her to realize the precarious position he was in. "I'm not trying to destroy Helen, either. She's Hailey's grandmother. And I respect their relationship. But if I can use her actions to force her into allowing me into Hailey's life, I will do that. I don't want us to be at odds, but I need you to see that I'm not just fighting for myself but also for Hailey. Helen's behavior tonight is crazy and reckless. I need to know what's going on so that if Hailey needs protection in some way, I can provide it."
"Helen was drunk, not dangerous."
"I would have never thought she was capable of breaking in here. Who knows what else she would do?"
Gianna's resolve weakened. "That's a fair point. I do want to help you, Zach."
"Then let me stay until Mrs. Carver wakes up."
"I have a feeling I couldn't kick you out even if I wanted to," she said dryly.
"Still, I'd prefer if we were on the same side."
"I'm trying to be Switzerland here."
"I'll take neutrality as long as you let me stay." He moved back into the storeroom, suddenly worried that Helen might have woken up and taken off. But she was exactly where they'd left her. He shook her shoulder, said her name quite loudly, but she just snored away. Taking out his phone, he took several photos of her for insurance. Helen's word would count for more than his, so he needed proof.
"I think we should try to get her upstairs," Gianna said. "Maybe she'll wake up if we move her."
With Gianna's help, he was able to pick Helen up and carry her up the stairs to the apartment. He set her down on the couch, and she stirred for a brief moment, then slipped back into oblivion. She reeked of liquor. He had no idea how much she'd drunk, but it had to have been a lot.
"You can go to bed, Gianna. I'll sit here with her."
"Are you going to stay awake all night?"
"Yes. I don't want her to leave while I'm asleep."
"Then I'll make you some coffee."
"If you don't mind."
He followed her into the kitchen, and as she started the coffeemaker, he leaned against the counter next to her. "Thanks
for calling me."
"I'm not sure I should have. But I couldn't seem to stop myself."
"I'm glad you did. I'm a little surprised, though. You made a real effort to stay away from me at the party."
"Things were getting too…"
"Hot?" he suggested.
"You had plenty of company without me," she said, ignoring his pointed comment.
"Jealous?"
"Not for a second." She pulled a mug from the cabinet and filled it with coffee. "Hopefully, this helps keep your eyes open. I feel like I should join you. I don't know what Mrs. Carver is going to think waking up here in a strange apartment with you waiting for her. I feel like I should be the buffer, although, to be honest, she doesn't like me much, either."
"Why not?"
"Because Rebecca and I never got along. Her daughter didn't like me, so why should she? My family wasn't part of the Carvers' social circle, either. Whisper Lake may be a small resort town, but it has its share of politics. And the Carvers always preferred to spend time with the wealthy homeowners in the Highlands or at Sandy Point," she added. "That's where the big homes are."
"Rebecca could be pretentious, but once she got away from her parents' influence, she was much more normal. I wish you could have known her as an adult."
"Well, I am sorry she died so young. I feel for her daughter, and I feel for you, too, Zach. I know you mentioned that your relationship had its problems, but I'm sure you cared deeply about her."
"I did. It was a complicated situation."
"I understand."
He appreciated her words more than he could say, because his feelings about Rebecca were all over the map, and while there had been love, there had also been anger and disappointment. He took his coffee over to the table and sat down. Gianna poured herself a cup and then joined him. "Won't that keep you awake?" he asked her.
"I hope so. Because there's no way I'm going to sleep with you two enemies waiting to do battle."
"I'm not Helen's enemy."
"She thinks you are." Gianna took a sip, then set her mug down. "Tell me more about your life, the years after camp and before you met Rebecca. What were you doing?"
"I was really angry when I got home from camp, not just because you'd accused me of being a thief and turned your back on me, but also because I was back in the house where my dad should have been but wasn't. My mom was angry, too. She'd thought I'd come back a changed kid, that I wouldn't be the same pissed-off boy she'd sent to camp. We were constantly at odds."
"That's strange. I would have thought you'd be even closer after your dad died."
"She was mad at him, too, for not leaving the service, for dying, for leaving her alone. She used to rant about how he had to be everyone's hero but hers. I didn't disagree with her; I felt the same way. But I also still loved my dad."
"I'm sure she did, too."
"Probably, but she started dating a year later, which was even more weird. My dad had been gone so much, I hadn't even seen them together much. Seeing her with another man felt wrong. But she was moving on. She said she'd wasted too many years being alone. She wanted a life. It was her turn."
"That makes sense."
"It does now, but as a teenager, I felt like she was rejecting the family she'd had with my dad. It was different for my brother, because he was five years younger. He was still her baby. I was a thorn in her side. I was getting into trouble at school. My grades were sucking. We were just done with each other. After high school, I went to community college for two years and during that time my mom got engaged to her now husband. He was a hotel manager, and he ended up getting transferred from Denver to San Diego. They got married, and she and my brother moved to California. They formed their own family."
"I can't believe they didn't want you to be a part of it."
"I didn't want to be a part of it. I didn't think I needed a dad, and while this guy was okay, I didn't connect with him. It probably wasn't his fault."
"So, you were in community college in Denver? It's weird that we didn't run into each other, because I was there, too."
"I wasn't hanging with the university kids at that point, but I was starting to get my act together. I took an intro to architecture class, and it changed my life. I suddenly felt like I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I liked the idea of creating something out of nothing. I wanted to build homes that would last. I wanted to put my mark on the world. I was never that interested in commercial projects. I was always more focused on residential. Homes were personal. People would actually live in my creations."
"I can completely relate. Although, no one lives in my art, except me."
He smiled. "My new passion got me into a more academic frame of mind. I worked on getting my grades up, and I ended up transferring to San Francisco State and then going to grad school at UC Berkeley."
"Did you have any girlfriends during your college years?"
"I had a girlfriend at SF State. We ended right after we graduated. She went on to law school at UCLA. After her, there were some short relationships, but nothing that lasted more than a few months. I ran into Rebecca a little over four years ago. I think in some ways she brought a sense of home with her. At heart I was a Colorado kid, and so was she. And I fell in love with her daughter—maybe even before I fell in love with her. Hailey needed a dad."
"And you remembered that feeling," Gianna murmured, an understanding light in her eyes.
"I did," he admitted. "I liked being part of a family again." He'd never told anyone that before, not even Rebecca, but with Gianna, he seemed to have no boundaries. "Let's talk about you. Tell me about your work."
"Well, as much as I dreamed of being a master painter, I had to become a commercial artist in order to pay rent and buy food. I've done web design, logos, book covers, ads—anything that needs a graphic touch. I've liked my work. It's fun to bring someone's creative vision to life. I don't always get it right, but sometimes I give them something wonderful and unexpected, and that's even better."
"Your last job was at an ad agency, with your ex?"
"Yes, and it was also my least favorite position."
"So, you're not going back into advertising?"
"I'm not sure what I'll do. I have some freelance jobs. I did some book covers for a fantasy author about six months ago." She reached for her computer on the counter behind her. "Do you want to see?"
"I absolutely do."
She opened up her computer and tapped a few keys, then turned the monitor around. "This is a trilogy set in Egypt. What do you think?"
He was flat out amazed by the colors, the details, the impact. "The cover is great, Gianna, really good."
She gave him a beaming smile. "I think so, too. It took multiple tries to get to this design. I combined some hand drawings with digital manipulation and coloring, and this is where I ended up. The author was very happy. He has already referred me to several of his friends. I figured I could do those this summer when I'm not working in the store, although I have to be honest—I haven't done anything artistic in months, not since I broke up with Jeff." She tipped her head to the blank canvas on her easel. "Every morning, I think about painting, but I can't seem to pick up a brush. I feel like I've lost my mojo. And that scares me because whenever I've been unhappy or scared in the past, I could always turn to art. It was my escape, but now I have nowhere to go."
He met her gaze and saw the shadows in her eyes, reminding him that she'd been through some emotional heartbreak as well. "Your mojo will be back. Probably faster if you don't stress over it."
"I hope so. It's funny to me that you turned out to be an architect, although, it also makes sense, because you were always interested in my drawings, in how I came up with a picture. Maybe there was a seed planted even before you took that basic architecture class."
"I might owe it all to you."
"It's also interesting that you design homes—that you're creating places for families to thrive."
"Playing armchair psyc
hologist?"
"There are no arms on this chair."
He smiled. "You're not the first person to make that point. I went to a therapist when Rebecca went to rehab. I thought maybe there was something I needed to change to make her better. The therapist mentioned that I might be trying to hold on to my image of the perfect family, because mine had crumbled. That my architecture is one more way for me to hold on to my ideals, my optimism that that perfect family exists. But I'm not sure I'm that deep."
"I think you are. And as a creator, of course, your feelings, your emotions, and your personal history play into what you design. It's the same for me. In my art, I tend to play around with themes of freedom, adventure, and fearlessness, probably because I wish I could be freer and more fearless."
"I think it's gutsy to call off three engagements. Maybe you're not as fearful as you think."
"You could read it that way or you could say I'm too afraid of marriage to make it all the way down the aisle."
"How do you read it?" he asked curiously.
"I honestly don't know. I haven't been very good at analyzing myself. But I have figured out that being who I am and living honestly is the only way I'm going to be happy."
"I want you to be happy," he said, wishing he could take the shadows out of her eyes.
"You're a fixer. You want everyone to be happy."
"I'm just not that good at making that happen." He sipped his coffee. "I couldn't fix Rebecca no matter how much I wanted to. She had to do that herself. I could only encourage and support her."
"Would you have stayed with her if Hailey wasn't in the picture?"
"No. And I feel bad for saying that, but it's true. I didn't see it for a while. Or even if I saw it, I didn't want to acknowledge it. I didn't want to face the fact that I loved her kid more than I loved her."
"She didn't make it easy to love her. She cheated on you."
"She did," he said heavily. "She was a slave to her addictions and she lost her life because of them. I can't change that. But I can try to make sure that Hailey has a good life."
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