He nodded, opening the door to the kitchen. “We’re going to find your dad. You know that, right?”
Carmen stopped for a moment, wanting to believe him more than anything in the world. “Yes. I do.”
Evan nodded, holding the door to the kitchen open. For good measure, Carmen called upstairs. “Papi? Papi? ¿Estás aquí?”
There was no answer.
The drive into town was like something out of a science fiction movie. The visibility was so poor that Evan inched along, catching glimpses of the lake between the houses. Smoke swirled on the water’s surface. On the side of the road, little fires burned like on a movie set. Homeowners had stretched their hoses across the road, attempting to halt the fire’s progress. Everyone had left their sprinklers running, some on the rooftops. Boats were tied in clusters to buoys in the middle of the lake in case the docks burned. Nobody was on the lake.
Although it was early in the morning, Pat and Mike’s was open, although nobody was inside. Evan filled up with gas and came back with bottles of cold water. Carmen rolled the sweating bottle over her cheeks before gulping it down. She was thirsty. They finished the waters in grateful silence. Nobody said they were hungry, although they’d been up for hours. Nobody had eaten breakfast. Another thing they’d need to take care of.
Carmen had two baggies of ice wrapped around her ankle, fashioned by Evan, who insisted on tying them to her leg with a kitchen towel. She’d wanted to hurry into town to file the missing person’s report. “You need to walk slowly, Carmen,” he’d said, tugging the towel a bit too tightly as he spoke. The intimacy they’d shared inside Orchard House had now evaporated into the smoky air.
Chelan was a ghost town. The few cars that lined the street were empty. Most of the stores were shut. Normally at this time of day there would be people getting coffee and breakfast, opening shops and jogging. Cyclists would finish their early morning rides, gathering in front of the bakery. Kids sneaking out of the waterfront hotels across the street, jumping off the bridge leading into town, despite the No Jumping sign.
Carmen realized that the tourists were as much a part of this place as the locals. It was always a relief in September when the lake quietened, but when they returned, the tourists brought summer to Chelan with their noise, bright bathing suits and ridiculous inflatables peppering the lake. They kept things going. Carmen thought about the new-money people like Evan, with their fancy cars and expensive sunglasses. What would happen to those people if the town burned? Would they stay and rebuild, or would they take their toys and leave?
Carmen shook her head as Evan drove down Main Street. She couldn’t think like that. They’d find Papi, and the fire would burn out or swerve. Evan pulled into the parking lot of the Apple Cup to see if any of the staff were inside, prepping for the breakfast crowd. Maybe someone had seen or heard from him. It was worth checking.
The blinds were down at the Apple Cup. A sign on the door said Following evacuation plan. See you soon. Lola called the phone number on the paper and got a recorded message. She asked them to call her if anyone had seen Juan Alvarez.
She climbed back into the car. “Let’s file a report.”
The sheriff’s offices had become an impromptu command central for the Forest Service. They were studying maps on the wall and speaking loudly on their radios to water planes and helicopter pilots. Carmen decided it was hopeful, seeing all the activity surrounding the fire. All these men and women had so much technology at their fingertips. Although everyone knew that what ultimately stopped fires was good old-fashioned boots on the ground. The maps showed where the Smoke Jumpers were digging trenches. A mere twenty miles north of Chelan. Apparently, the winds blowing the smoke in their direction were faster up-lake. It made Carmen feel calmer, momentarily, to know that the situation was better than it looked.
The sheriff, Mike Granger, who had gone to school with Adella, said hello and led them back to his office. “Sorry, it’s kind of nuts in here right now, but the Forest Service offices were maxed out. We’ve got the North Cascades crew in here.” He waved an arm towards the office in general. Carmen could tell he liked the excitement. A small-town sheriff, who wouldn’t be held responsible, probably enjoyed the change of pace, provided the fire stayed at a safe distance.
After finding chairs for everyone, Mike closed the door, handing Carmen the paperwork to fill out. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize right away who your father was. Right after you called, Adella reached out, and I put the pieces together. I sent out an APB and had some people comb the town. We’ll check places like the Safeway or the Starbucks, provided these were places he might habitually go.”
Carmen looked up from the papers. “Safeway, yes. Starbucks, no.”
Mike nodded. “Right. Old school. I get it.”
“We’ve checked the Apple Cup,” Lola said. “They’re not open.”
“That was my next question,” Mike said. “Also, start calling anyone he might be friendly with. Someone who might have seen him in town. Who forgot to call or maybe doesn’t have your cell number?”
Lola stood up. “The prayer group.”
Carmen felt a flash of relief. Of course. He’d just seen those women. Maybe he’d decided to go check on them. That would make total sense. He would have wanted to make sure they were okay. “Why don’t you start with the single ones first?” Everyone looked at her with raised eyebrows. “He would want to make sure they were okay.”
Lola nodded. “Yep. That’s what Papi would do.”
Paolo stood up. “We need food. I go to make the breakfast and bring it back.”
Evan nodded. “Good idea.” He looked at Lola. “We can split the phone list.”
“Thank you. Papi has a lot of friends.”
Carmen glanced up from her paperwork to find Evan looking at her. Their eyes met and he smiled. “In medical schools, doctors are taught to look for the obvious first. If they hear hooves, they shouldn’t think, oh, that’s a zebra. It’s probably a horse. Because horses are more common.”
“And this is relevant why?”
“Because I think your father is hiding in plain sight and when we figure it out, we’re going to wonder why we didn’t think of it in the first place.”
Twenty-Five
Search Party
Paolo was a baker. His rustic bread came in thick crusty slices that he’d slathered with butter and marmalade, wrapping them in parchment paper. He also had small almond-scented cookies, ripe cherries and thick, strong coffee he poured from a thermos into mugs, mixing it with heated milk from another thermos. He spread his offerings on a small shabby side table beside a stack of snowy white linen napkins and small plates. “Mangiare! Mangiare! Eat! You need to keep the strength.”
Carmen, who gratefully accepted coffee but couldn’t eat, was stuck on the randomness of this beautiful breakfast, more suited to a food blog than a shabby sheriff’s office. When did Paolo find time to bake? Did Italians eat cookies for breakfast?
How was it that her father was missing and all she could think about was food?
Carmen made herself a plate and when Paolo wasn’t looking, placed it on Mike’s desk.
Evan noticed and handed her some of his bread, placing a sticky slice on her napkin. “Eat,” he said simply. “Or you’ll hurt Paolo’s feelings.”
“God forbid Paolo’s feelings get hurt.” She rolled her eyes.
“He’s Italian,” Evan said as if this explained everything. “Food is a very big deal to him. Besides, we don’t want you fainting.”
Keeping her eyes locked on him, Carmen picked up the bread and took a bite, chewing aggressively.
“Very attractive,” Evan said.
Carmen took another bite, stuffing her mouth. She really didn’t care what he thought. But she did care if she choked. She took a drink of coffee.
Outside the door, Lola worked her phone, leaving messages and asking for numbers as she went.
Carmen pushed the sandwich away. “I can’t just sit here.
I need to be looking.”
Even stood up. “Then let’s look.”
All afternoon they drove the streets of Chelan, looking down alleys, peering inside closed restaurants. After they’d finished the town, they ranged further, into the orchards and vacation homes on the east side of the lake. Although it was a long shot, they took an unpaved road up a steep hillside to check if Papi’s truck was at the trailhead of one of his favorite hikes. There wasn’t a single car in the dirt parking lot. On their descent, they could see the smoke blanketing the valley, obscuring their view of the lake. A family of deer ran across the road, kicking up dirt, heading south, away from the fires.
They’d reached the main road running down the east side of the lake when Evan’s phone rang. He answered, assuring the caller that he was okay. “No, I’m fine. I’m not leaving. There’s a voluntary evacuation for seniors and people with respiratory issues but they haven’t ordered a mandatory evacuation yet. Yeah. I’m helping a friend. Okay, I’ll call if I do. Thanks for checking in.” He took a right onto the road, continuing up the lake towards the small town of Manson. Carmen wondered why he hadn’t put the phone on speaker.
There was a lot about Evan that she didn’t know. Other than his stellar career at Microsoft, she knew little of his previous life in Seattle. “Was that family?”
He shook his head. “No. Friends. My parents are on a cruise.”
“Nice.” She studied a dog boarding kennel and small hardware store from the car before shaking her head at the stupidity. Her father had probably never set foot in these stores. Was Evan just keeping her busy? Stopping her from spiraling into a sinkhole of worry?
Evan took a left before they reached Manson, driving past cherry orchards towards some lakefront homes. They reached the end of the road, turning around at a small marina. “Yeah. They spend more time on cruises than at home. Or golfing. They love golfing. When I didn’t make my high school golf team, my dad didn’t talk to me for two days.”
Carmen couldn’t imagine Papi not talking to her, no matter how mad he was. “Does it bother you?”
Evan looked at her sideways. “No. I’m an adult.” They drove past a mini mall with a Thriftway, a hair salon and a sandwich shop. “You know, maybe it does. At Christmas and my birthday.”
Carmen glanced at him, perplexed. “They don’t come home for Christmas?”
Evan shook his head. “They invited me to come see them a couple of times. In Norway and Greece. It never worked out.”
“Wow. Papi makes a traditional Mexican Christmas dinner with tamales and goose and tres leches cake. It’s ridiculous. You walk in Orchard House and there isn’t one spare inch in the fridge. He invites anyone who doesn’t have a place to go.” Her voice cracked with emotion, eyes brimming with tears. “It’s really nice.”
Evan nodded, looking wistful. “Sounds like it.”
“Yeah. It’s his favorite time of year.”
Carmen thought about how, as a kid, she’d complained about wearing hand-me-downs and her mother being unwilling to pay for name brand snacks. She’d whined, saying one variety pack of Lay’s potato chips from Costco wouldn’t destroy their family. All those little things she’d complained about, when in reality, she’d had everything and more than she’d needed. There had always been an abundance of love and closeness. Of laughter, home-cooking, friends. All the important things that gave their lives depth and meaning.
Maybe she’d had to leave Chelan to realize it, but right now she felt it more than she ever had in her entire life. Mami’s death had made Papi double down on the love. That first Christmas after had been sad, but breathtaking. Papi had gotten the biggest tree, showing it to them with such pride, overplaying the drama of how the tree had fallen in the wrong direction after he’d chopped it, nearly felling him in the process. He’d arranged a nonstop parade of friends and neighbors, stuffing everyone with tamales and his first glorious attempt at Mami’s Polvorones de Canele, cookies laced with cinnamon, snowy with powdered sugar. He’d even taken them on a horse-drawn sleigh ride, their eyes bright with the cold, the bells jingling in the pine-scented air.
On Christmas Eve they’d all gathered by the fire, stunned by the food, exhausted from all the activity. He’d reached his arms around the three of them, kissing the nearest on the head. “Mis amores. Mami would want us to be happy. Feliz Navidad.” Carmen’s eyes teared at the memory.
They’d reached the tiny lakeside town of Manson, pulling into the park, directly across the lake from their houses. Through the smoke she could just make out the vineyards spreading up the side of the hills, vibrant and green. The harvest didn’t seem to matter anymore. Keeping the vineyard seemed like a quaint idea from another era. The lake spread out before them with slightly better visibility. Smoke gathered on the far shore.
“Seems a little bit better,” Carmen said. She’d been bargaining with God. If Papi was returned to her, she’d be kinder. Go to church every Sunday. Tithe. Her mother used to say that God didn’t make bargains. Then again, Carmen thought, maybe he did.
“Would your father have any reason to go further?” Evan looked up the narrow road heading up-lake, where the fire raged. Beyond Manson was a string of houses and cabins clinging to a slender slice of land off the road, including a few stunners belonging to Seahawks players. When Carmen was a kid, they’d take their friend’s boats down here to gawk at the things money could buy. The tennis courts, terraced gardens hanging from cliff walls, the European speedboats so sleek they look fast tied to the dock.
She shook her head. “No.”
Evan started to turn the car around, but stopped. He pulled over, putting the car in park. “Carmen, I just want to say that I’m really sorry. I genuinely didn’t know that your father had Alzheimer’s. I thought he was ready to retire.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he was. Maybe he wanted to slow down and I messed everything up.”
Evan shook his head. “No way. The man you just described wouldn’t think a daughter taking over the family business was anything other than wonderful. You know, he told me about all of you. He’s very proud of you.”
Carmen wiped away a tear. “He probably told you I was mayor of Seattle.”
Evan nodded. “Something like that. Governor of Washington State.”
Carmen smiled. “Sounds about right.”
Evan’s phone rang. Although he fumbled to locate it, the call went to the car’s speaker system. “Hey, Ev. I’m just calling to see if you got the land from that crazy Latina and her nutso family.” Evan fumbled for his phone. “She sounds like a piece of work, man.”
Evan found his phone, not daring to look at Carmen as he spoke. “She’s sitting right here and you’re on speaker phone.”
“My bad,” said the friend. “Hey, señorita, I hear you really know how to screw up a wedding!”
Evan glanced at Carmen with pleading eyes, swirling his finger at his temple, mouthing, “He’s crazy.”
Carmen shook her head in pity. Poor Evan.
Not.
Glaring out the window as he talked, she didn’t bother looking at him when he hung up. She was afraid she’d haul off and punch him. Crazy Latina and her nutso family?
“I did not say those things. He’s an old fraternity friend and a complete jerk.”
Carmen spoke through gritted teeth. “Then you make a perfect pair.”
“You have to believe me.” Evan’s voice quivered with emotion.
“Turn the car around.”
On the seemingly endless ride back to Chelan, Carmen settled into a familiar feeling.
Hating Evan Hollister.
As they pulled up in front of the sheriff’s office, Carmen ignored Evan’s offer of help getting out of the car. She’d rather sprain both ankles than touch him again.
“Carmen, please!” Evan said as she hobbled past him.
She shook her head angrily. “Stay away from me.”
Lola, Paolo and Stella were slumped in hard plastic seats. Through the sh
eet glass windows of the sheriff’s office they could see Adella crossing the street through the late afternoon sun. A light breeze ruffled the trees, shifting the smoke, making it slightly easier to breathe. It could also, Stella said, fuel the wildfires.
Evan blocked Carmen’s way to the office door. “I might have talked to Jake when I was tired. Right after I found out about the goats. Maybe I was, I don’t know, letting off steam. I swear I didn’t call your family crazy. Or you. Jake was calling to see if he could borrow money. He’s that kind of friend.”
Carmen leaned on a bike rack, her ankle throbbing. “Look, I don’t care. Every time you’re nice to me, I find there’s some agenda. You hire away my cook or sabotage a wedding I’m hosting. Do you have any idea how hard it is for normal people to come up with the kind of money we need? I’ve had old ladies picking in our fields. You know what I’ve found out, though? People love us. People I didn’t even know.” She waved her hands at the town in a wild gesture that almost caused her to lose her balance until Evan stepped in. “I’ve also realized that they are the people I need to be around. Not new people, who care more about acreage than friendship.” She patted her chest. “I belong here. I do.” She stopped for a moment, noticing Evan’s troubled face.
“And you don’t think I do?” he asked, earnestly.
She shook her head. “No.”
Evan sighed deeply. Without a word, he walked into the sheriff’s office. Carmen saw him through the window, speaking to the assembled group.
A second later he walked past her. “Good luck finding your dad.” He put his hand out to tenderly pat her shoulder, then held it in place, thinking better of it. “You’ll find him. I know it.”
He got into his car and drove off. Carmen watched as it turned the corner and disappeared.
She’d thought telling Evan off would make her feel better.
It had just made her feel worse.
Carmen limped into the sheriff’s waiting room, hoping for good news. Her sisters remained slumped in their chairs, faces gray and tired in the dingy light. She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, scanning their faces, looking for a scrap of hope. Something to cling to. All she saw was exhaustion. Every second that her father remained unaccounted for felt like an eternity. As if a piece of her was missing.
Summer at Orchard House: An utterly compelling and heart-warming summer romance (Blue Hills Book 1) Page 23