by Tess Rothery
Accidents were a kind of bad luck.
This could have been just an accident.
Lorraine was hovering at her shoulder waiting for some kind of reply.
Taylor slipped the paper into her pocket. “I'll contact Sacred Grounds and let them know. They’ll feel awful, though. I know they’d hate to have something like this happen."
Lorraine slowly turned her head side to side. “It's a threat. Can't you see?" she asked. "None of us are safe here."
“I know this has been a challenge," Taylor said. "None of us are feeling like ourselves. We’re all worried about the virus. None of us feel like …"
"This isn't related to the pandemic. This is The Cutter. I don't think Owen Malcom was responsible for all of those murders last winter." Lorraine referenced a string of murders that had triggered a deep-seated paranoia in her.
“I know how you feel. I understand that it…" Taylor stared at Lorraine. She was lying to the woman, of course. She didn't understand at all. Lorraine had serious mental issues. The paranoia, the self-hatred, the substance abuse. There was just so much going on and Taylor truly could not say she understood. "I think we’ve had some terrible luck in our little town over the last few years, but I think the people responsible for those crimes have been held accountable or are at least waiting on their trials." Taylor thought back to her cousin Coco. Not many weeks ago she’d been at the heart of a different sort of murder. In Taylor's mind, Coco had a great deal to answer for. Her sugar daddy site was nothing more than fancy prostitution. A young woman named Molly Kay had been murdered, and Asha Szkolaski, whose mom volunteered at Sacred Grounds Coffee Shop, had been abducted. Who knew what the rest of the girls who signed up with Coco were experiencing? The men who used that site were older, more powerful, and had resources that the girls felt they needed.
No, Taylor did not feel like everyone responsible for the many murders in Comfort had been held accountable.
But she didn't think there was a serial killer on the loose, at least not the one Lorraine Love believed in.
"This is an unsophisticated message,” Lorraine said. “They had no way of guaranteeing the right person would receive it. They placed the message in one cookie, knowing that whoever found that slip of paper would report it. It would appear they were relying on the natural inclination of women to share news. They needed that impulse to carry the message to its intended person. Because I have lived through the acts of The Cutter twice now, I can only assume this message was for me.”
“If this is the way you feel, I can't stop you from calling the police, but I'm not sure what they'll do. They’ll hardly want to come here while we’re all under quarantine." Though Lorraine seemed to be way out in left field for the most part, one part of her idea seemed logical. There was no way anyone could guarantee that cookie got to the right person. Maddie, Lorraine, or whoever. It had to have been an accident. The scrap of receipt had fallen into the mixer and no one noticed.
But someone had gotten the message and talked about it, so that part of Lorraine’s theory held up.
Her finger slipped back into the pocket of her jeans. They needed to get to the bottom of this trouble for Maddie’s sake.
No, she shook her head.
She needed to get Maddie safely into the little house on Love Street. Her old friend was just being pestered. The sooner she got somewhere that the pest couldn't reach her, the better. “Thank you for passing this to me," Taylor said. “I'll do my best to take care of the situation. You will let me know if anything else comes up, won’t you?"
Lorraine still stared at Taylor with calculating eyes. She licked her thin lips, but nodded and said, “Yes, you will be the first to know. Taylor, I trust you.” There was something ominous about the words, and as Lorraine walked away, Taylor shivered.
Directly before lunch, Taylor did what she had promised Maddie she would do and left her house key on the dresser that stood under the mullioned window.
Maddie’s bags were sitting on the Card Trick quilt that covered the bed. It was made from soft, well-loved, vintage children’s prints, and Taylor had fond memories of building tents with it in her Grandma Delma’s living room while Grandpa Ernie watched Westerns on TV. He’d told her card tricks were shootin’ matters. Cowboys didn’t take kindly to being made fools of.
Maddie’s bags were open and ready to be packed. Taylor sighed with relief. She realized, in addition to wanting some peace and quiet for Maddie, she wanted peace and quiet for all of them.
It would be a long two weeks otherwise.
They had all worked hard and pinned their hopes on this break from tragedy. She hated blaming victims for their troubles, but she couldn't help thinking that Maddie had brought this on herself and that sending her away would fix everything.
She ran her finger along the windowsill, an automatic test for dust. The old wood was warped with age, and had a deep groove near the middle, but was dust free. She gazed outside. The soft, green lawn rolled away from the old building. There was about an acre of property between that corner of the house and the next dwelling. They were as safely distanced from community as they could possibly be, but it didn’t feel safe.
The window was open, and the warm, hopeful, life-filled country air seeped into her lungs. The rich fragrance from a patch of peonies that grew under the window tickled her nose, but it was nice.
Little birds twittered in the distance. She thought they might be starlings, but she had never been one for birdwatching. Maybe she should take that up. Maybe she and Clay could sit in his apartment on quiet afternoons and stare out at Main Street, listening to the birds and trying to name them together. It would be something to do while they filled online orders.
Another sound overtook the song of the birds.
The unhappy crying of a young woman.
Taylor was sure the voice was coming from the room to the right—was that Pyper’s room? She wasn’t sure, and she hated to admit it to herself, but she didn’t want to check.
The last thing they needed was youthful drama.
She shut the window and retreated down the hall where plausible deniability would keep her safe from having to comfort someone she wasn't feeling pity for.
She paused by the door long enough to hear that the crying woman wasn’t alone.
Between sobs, Taylor could hear someone making shushing noises. Knowing Pyper was here with both her sister and her mom, Taylor decided not to feel even a little bit guilty about ignoring the unnecessary drama.
Once lunch rolled around and she took her position in the doorway to the butler’s pantry, she couldn't help but try to guess who had been upset. Some of the tell-tale signs of crying, such as red-tipped noses or blotchy cheeks, were hidden under the masks. But Pyper’s eyes weren’t red-rimmed or swollen. And though the room wasn't cheerful, everyone else seemed fine too. Courtney, Jeanne, and Tansy who had been in the aerobics class with Sissy were sweaty and flushed. Tansy looked grim, but that was easily the result of working out in a top story ballroom in June. Even with central air, that wall of windows would make the room hot. Maybe Tansy had been crying with her sister over the stress of being away from her children. Or maybe Taylor was wrong and that wasn’t Pyper’s room at all. It would be easy to check, but did she want to?
As soon as Sissy brought up the lunch trays, soft conversation filled the room. The dense brown bread had been abandoned for fluffy, homemade, white bread. The filling was another strange paste, but it was bright egg-yolk yellow with a thin layer of pink. The menu called it “Monaco Sandwich,” but it looked like a fancy egg salad to Taylor. They were served with a colorful side dish called “Harlequin Salad,” which had been piled high on the plates.
Taylor had tasted it downstairs and quite liked it. The thinly shredded cabbage, fresh peas, sliced beets, onions, carrots, and salt-and-pepper made a fresh, crisp combination. The beets would slowly stain everything pink making it lose some of its visual appeal as it sat on the plates, but it at least it tas
ted good.
She also knew that fairy cones were headed their way for dessert. The cone itself was some kind of meringue rolled in nuts and then filled with whipped cream. It sounded light, delicious, and summery. Nothing could go wrong with this lunch.
Sissy brought the desserts up well before anyone could finish the sandwiches, and Taylor didn't mind a bit. They needed to keep this meal rolling so everyone could disappear into their free time. Taylor wanted a little bit of that herself. She’d promised to call the volunteers at Sacred Grounds to mention the issue with the cookies, and she would, but she wanted to talk to Aviva and Belle about it first. After lunch would be her first chance.
"This is enough. Truly the last straw." Maddie flung herself away from her chair. “I don't know which one of you hates me, but if these are the swords from the rat bones. I swear to God, I will sue you.” In a shaking hand she held out two plastic cocktail swords.
Taylor’s stomach turned.
She knew they were the ones from the rat bones because the situation was escalating, and what could be more horrifying than that?
"Calm down,” Tansy said.
“What are you talking about?” Courtney sounded bewildered.
"There has been a non-stop campaign against me ever since I got here." A vein on Maddie’s forehead throbbed and her shoulders shook. "Chicken bones in my work basket, and in my napkin. Terrible messages left for me. And now this.” She flung the swords away, but they landed with an unsatisfying plastic clink on her own plate. “I thought I was having a weekend away with my friends. I didn't know I had come here to be, to be, to be…” She paused, then her eyes widened. “To be ‘Carrie-d’ like the Stephen King movie.”
Courtney reached for Maddie. “I don't know what's going on, and I'm sorry you feel this way, but you can't believe anyone here…” She trailed off as she looked around the room. There weren't any sympathetic faces.
"It's probably you," Maddie said. "Ever since you pulled Jubilee from my counseling, I knew you had it in for me." Maddie closed her eyes and sucked a loud breath through her mask.
“I can see why you would think that. Jubilee was unhappy with some of the ideas you had for her. But I’m not holding that against you. We just found someone else to do the work. I thought you and I understood. I thought we were okay.”
Maddie narrowed her eyes. “I thought we were too.”
“The whole town knows you haven’t spoken to Taylor in years because of the upset with Belle. Why don’t you blame Taylor for this? After all, she's the one that invited you here," Jeanne argued.
"I didn't.” Taylor spoke spontaneously and was embarrassed afterwards. "I mean, I just mean, Lorraine invited her. I didn't invite any of you. Invitations weren't on my to-do list. It’s been nice having her here—reconnecting." Taylor stumbled over her words as she tried to choose things that were true and believable.
"I see. None of you want me here.” Maddie’s voice had gone ice-cold. She looked at Lorraine. “I don't know why you did this to me. I didn't know you were cruel." Maddie pushed her chair away from her with violence and left.
Taylor stared at the women seated in the dining room. If they had been her staff and this had been a staff meeting, what would she have said to them? She braced herself, squared her shoulders, and did her best to relax all of the muscles in her face. “I believe none of us wanted that to go the way it did. This may be a giant house, but it’s a small town, and we could probably all dig up past grudges if we were looking for a fight. I strongly recommend we take some time alone after lunch to rest. I’ll check in with Maddie after she’s had time to cool off.”
Lorraine’s quivering, somewhat tired, and always superior voice rose in the quiet. “There is something larger going on here that none of you understand. Something worse than you could imagine.”
Taylor's chin quivered, not as though she were going to cry but in frustration, powerless in the face of anger, powerlessness in the face of people hurting. Powerlessness seemed to be the theme of the last many months. She didn't know how much more she could take. But she was here on behalf of her sister and could not leave, at least should not leave, this dining room until everyone felt safe and ready to go to their rooms on their own. "I'm sorry." Taylor didn't elaborate. Sometimes those two words were enough.
“It's not your fault,” Jeanne said. “Truly. None of this is and we all know that. Perhaps,” she scratched her head and looked at her mostly empty plate. “Perhaps the rest of us can quietly go about our free time?”
Courtney and Tansy nodded in agreement and left.
Taylor sighed in relief. She would clear the tables, help Aviva with the dishes, and confer with the team about what on earth they should do with this mess.
Chapter Seven
The family rooms in the addition on the back of the Boone-Love House were huge and modern, though well over fifty years old themselves. Belle and Taylor were sharing the master suite and Sissy had the matching guest suite all to herself. Aviva was settled in the family room but shared Sissy’s bathroom. It was a cozy arrangement, even with the grand size of the rooms. And right now, the four of them appreciated their private space as they conferred over the situation again. “Getting rid of the chicken bones didn't seem to help.” Belle stared at a sheet covered in block printed notes she had made.
"I'm not sure what's worse, to be honest.” Sissy looked like a sci-fi super villain seated in Jonah’s black leather gamer chair. “The random boiled bones found here and there or that vicious Yelp review. Both are psychologically damaging."
“What about that bit of receipt tape from the cookie?" Taylor asked.
“Who could possibly have done that?” Aviva seemed to disappear in the overstuffed beige corduroy love seat.
Though Taylor knew the girl wanted to make her name in police work of some kind, she seemed far too young and small for that right now.
Sissy swiveled in her seat so she was looking at Aviva. “The number of the beast. Six-six-six, over and over again. It was just menacing enough to have been stuck in there on purpose. And yet, as it was just a scrap of receipt tape, it has plausible deniability. It could be nothing.”
“Taylor, you offered to call the bakery,” Belle said, “but I'll handle that. It's only right, since this is my event.”
Taylor nodded. "Thanks Belle. I feel like I should probably check in with Maddie. Make sure she's okay."
“It was kind of you to offer her your home,” Sissy said. “I wish I had thought of it. Not that my home is better than yours, but it's not empty. She wouldn't be all alone."
“That would defeat the purpose of the quarantine, wouldn't it?" Taylor stood and made her way to the door.
Sissy huffed an aggravated sigh. “You know, I had already forgotten that. I find it such a challenge to remember that loving my family right now means not being with them. It’s the hardest part.”
“Most certainly,” Taylor agreed, “but I imagine it is worse for you.”
Sissy didn't disagree. She lived for her family.
“What were your afternoon plans Sissy?” Belle asked.
"I was planning facials with historically accurate ingredients. Do you mind scrapping that? And Taylor, do you mind scrapping your afternoon sewing? I think some vintage calisthenics would be better for everyone.”
"Not a problem. We’ve got fourteen days to fill. No reason to do all the sewing right away.”
“It’s beautiful outside. I’ll take everyone on a nature hike. Vitamin D is a terrific mood enhancer. I'll make them get out their little notebooks, the ones you put in all their rooms. They’ll pretend they’re turn-of-the-century naturalists. I can keep them out till dinnertime, if you want.”
Belle’s face brightened. “That would be perfect. Get them outside. Make them walk around. Sunshine and fresh air. Everyone needs to get outside and touch grass now and again. Aviva, you and I can look at the menu again and see what we can do to fill it with mood enhancing foods, yes?"
Aviva
agreed.
Taylor stared at the door to the hall as the others filed out to set their plans in action. Checking in with Maddie had been her idea, but she didn’t want to. Maddie and her contentious practices were a problem, and a tiny little part of Taylor thought this adverse reaction to her ideas might teach her something.
She compromised with herself and sent Maddie a text. “Do you need to talk?”
It felt like minutes before Maddie sent a quick, no, in response. But that was good enough for Taylor. Let Maddie stew a little. Think about what she was doing with her life. After all, a tiny little bit of bullying wasn’t going to do her long-lasting harm.
Probably.
Either way, it wasn’t Taylor’s job to counsel the unpopular counselor. Instead, she tucked herself into the master suite to see if she couldn't figure out who their bad seed was. It gave her a sense of helping Maddie without having to literally help her.
The first thing she did was send a message to Valerie Ritz. Valerie was dating Taylor’s cousin Reid and was also one of the brightest hobby hackers in the little fan group that called themselves Jonah's Juvies. She hoped it would be simple for Valerie to find out who had posted that review on Yelp. Anyone could have printed it, of course, but Taylor had to start somewhere.
Next, she called Clay. Just because Belle was going to handle the situation with the Sacred Grounds cookies didn’t mean Taylor couldn’t do a little digging.
“Taylor,” he moaned when he answered the phone. “I am so lonely. When are you coming home?”
“We’re under quarantine my friend. We’ve been properly exposed to this virus and cannot come home. I left you a message."
“Yeah, I know I was just hoping maybe this call was to say it was a mistake and you were fine, and you'd be back at regularly scheduled time.”
“Any word from Roxy? How’s she doing?"