“I, um . . .”
Wendy stopped cleaning. “It’s okay, Nancy. She’s fine.” She said one thing, but the worry in her eyes said another.
“Is there anything I can do?”
Wendy glanced around. “No, I’m done here.”
It wasn’t what Nancy meant, but she didn’t press it any further.
“Are you ready to go?” Wendy asked.
“Almost, but I need my manuscript. Sofia was reading it.” She glanced around.
“Uh-oh,” Wendy said, bringing her hands to her mouth. “My Life, My Mess?”
Nancy’s eyes widened, afraid of what she might hear. She gave a quick nod.
“That was yours?” Wendy made a face. “Oops. I packed it in her suitcase.”
“Oh, no.” Nancy’s heart sunk. She gripped the sides of her pants.
“It’s okay. I’ll contact her in a few days, when she, y’know,” her face soured, “when she can talk, and I’ll get it back to you.” She put her hands on Nancy’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
Nancy walked back to the blue cabin. Once inside, she closed the door and thumped her head against it. “No. No. No.” How was she going to go home without Elle’s manuscript?
The flight back went by fast. She stood in the airport waiting for Elle and Sally to pick her up. Eagerly searching for them, she shoved the gnawing thought of the missing manuscript to the back of her mind. Seeing Elle from afar, without Sally, saddened her, and the festering thought of the missing manuscript resurfaced.
“Nancy!” Elle threw her arms around her neck. “It’s so wonderful to have you back.”
It was great to be back, but Nancy hoped it would remain so, after she told her about the manuscript. “Where’s Sally?”
“She’s home in bed.”
“What? It’s noon.”
“She’s not feeling well. She’s got a slight fever and a cough.”
“Oh, dang.”
“Yes.” Elle led her toward the baggage claim. “So, tell me all about your trip.” She stopped walking and turned toward her. “You look radiant.”
Nancy bit her lower lip. She didn’t feel radiant.
Elle resumed her walking, waiting for Nancy to catch up. “So, I’ve been dying to find out what you think of, My Life, My Mess.” She stopped walking again and eagerly looked at Nancy.
“Oh, my. I loved it.” That part was true.
“You don’t think it was too . . . um, personal?”
Nancy sighed. “How could it be anything else, Elle?”
Nodding, she pointed toward the escalator. “Baggage claim is down there.” They were quiet the rest of the way. “So, you really liked it?”
“Of course, I did.” She tried to change the subject. “How have you guys been? How’s Sam?”
Elle twisted the ring around her finger. “Fabulous. He’s got another speaking engagement this morning.” They had arrived at the baggage claim and grabbed Nancy’s luggage off the circular track.
Nancy took the handle of her bag. She waited for Elle to continue, but then decided to forge ahead on a new topic—anything to veer away from the manuscript. She’d been thinking of getting her own place, that’d be a good diversion from the manuscript. “Hey, I need to talk to you.” They made their way to the exit. The car was parked nearby.
Elle looked at her. “Oh? About what?”
Nancy loaded her luggage in the back of the car. She got into the vehicle. “I’m not sure what you and Sam have decided, but wherever you go after the execution, I’m going to.”
Elle nodded. “That’s a given, Nancy.”
Nancy touched her arm. “Yes, of course it is, but I’d like to get my own place.” Seeing Elle’s surprised look, she continued, “not far away, within walking distance, so Sally can come and go.”
Elle pulled onto the road. “But, why?”
It seemed like Elle didn’t understand. Nancy sighed. “It’s a good thing, Elle. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can live life and not just go about from day to day.”
“Wow. That is a good thing.”
Nancy grinned. “Yes, a very good thing.”
The rest of the way home, Elle talked about Sally. “And she has a new friend,” Elle said, as they pulled into the driveway.
The tone of her voice perplexed Nancy. “Who?”
Elle made a face. “I mean, he seems nice enough.”
“He?”
Elle opened the car door. “Uh-huh.”
“A boy?”
“Yep.”
Nancy was okay with Sally having a friend, of course, she was. It didn’t bother her at all that it was a boy. “What’s his name?”
“Breccan.”
Inside, Nancy went straight to Sally’s room. Finding her fast asleep, she opted to kiss her on the forehead and not wake her.
Back in the hallway, she ran into Elle. “She does feel a little warm.”
Elle grimaced. “Yes, poor thing. She just took some medicine. She’ll probably sleep for a while.” She followed Nancy into her room. “Can I have the manuscript? There’s a few things I thought of that I’d like to add.”
Nancy groaned. At least they got home first, that way, Elle couldn’t kick her out of the car. A deep sigh left her throat. She led Elle into the kitchen where her upcoming scream wouldn’t disturb Sally. “Sit down.” She pulled a chair out for Elle and then sat across the table from her. “It’s gone, Elle. I lost the manuscript.”
Twenty-Seven
Misplaced
Elle collapsed onto the table. “What?” She looked up at Nancy, sure she had heard her wrong. “You did what?”
Nancy tapped her fingers on the table top. “Well, your manuscript is not really lost, it’s just misplaced.”
Elle gave her an incredulous look. “How can something be misplaced and not lost?” The last of her words came out sternly.
“Um.” Nancy twisted her hands. “It was an accident.” She pulled up a chair beside her.
Elle’s shoulders dropped. “An accident?” She was holding tight to the not lost part, otherwise, she’d really be losing it.
“Wendy, one of the administrators of the complex, she packed it in someone else’s suitcase by accident.”
Elle jumped up. “Someone else has my manuscript?”
“Um, yes.” Nancy stood. “She feels bad about it and promised she’d get it back to us as quick as possible.”
Elle started shaking. “Do you trust this person?”
Nancy nodded. “Completely.” She sat back down. “I’m really sorry, Elle. I’m just sick about it.”
Elle could tell her words were sincere. She sighed. She patted her arm. “No, no, it wasn’t your fault at all.”
Nancy made a face. “Well, maybe a little . . .” She held her finger and thumb up showing a tiny space between them.
“What?” Elle’s eyes widened. “How?”
Nancy folded her hands on the table. “I think it’s okay to tell you about Sofia, but only if you don’t talk to anyone else about her.”
Elle put her hands on her hips. “Yeah, like who do I ever talk to?”
Nancy shrugged. “Mimi?”
Elle frowned. Like she’d ever told Mimi anything clandestine, even about themselves. “Okay, not even to Mimi.” She was getting a little irritated. It didn’t escape her that Nancy had first said the manuscript was lost, only to a few seconds later retract it, and say it was only misplaced. She guessed Nancy’s little ruse had worked though—misplaced was a lot more palpable than lost. “Who is Sofia and what does she have to do with my manuscript?”
“It was her suitcase that Wendy put the manuscript in.”
“And this Sofia didn’t see that my manuscript was in her stuff?”
“No. The last time I saw Sofia, she probably didn’t even know her own name.”
Elle’s eyebrows rose. Sofia must be a drunk. “Great. Just great.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “A drunkard has my book.” She growled.
It seemed as though Nancy was defending Sofia’s inability to function as a normal human being. “That doesn’t make sense, Nancy. What other reason would Sofia have to not see things right in front of her face?” She snarled. “What is she? A lunatic?”
Nancy was clearly offended. “That’s just not nice.” She scraped the chair legs against the floor and stormed toward her room. “Let me know when you want to talk, but I’ve had enough.”
Unbelievable. Elle’s jaw fell open. She’d not expected that response. She’d undoubtedly touched a raw nerve. Her thoughts raced back to her last words. “Lunatic?” She sucked in a breath and hurried to Nancy’s room.
Tapping lightly on the door, she said, “I’m sorry, Nancy.”
The door opened a crack. Nancy looked out. “Sofia is a lunatic, at times,” she said softly, “and at other times, she’s one of the most incredible people that I’ve ever met.” She opened the door and let Elle in. “I’m sorry about your manuscript.” She sat on the bed. “I had just finished reading it, and I was crying like a baby. I didn’t have the courage to tell Sofia to put it down, when she picked it up. And then,” she paused, “the rest is history.”
“So, she read it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“And you trust her?” she asked again, needing the reaffirmation that this Sofia person was okay.
“With my life.”
Good enough. There was one more question on her mind. She wet her lips. “Did she like it?”
Nancy laughed. “I’m sure she did.” She shrugged. “But I didn’t get to talk to her about it before she—”
Elle finished her words, “before she fell into a fit?”
“More like a wild, emotional, roller-coaster ride.”
“Oh.” Elle stood. “How will we get it back?”
“Through Wendy, I guess.” She moved toward the door. “I’ll give it a couple days, and then I’ll call her.”
Relieved that Nancy had her phone number, Elle stifled all of her fears of the manuscript getting into the wrong hands. “Okay,” she said and turned to leave. Nancy followed her out.
The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.” Nancy called over her shoulder, going past Elle.
When Nancy opened the door, a young boy with red hair and freckles stood on the doorstep, holding an ensemble of wildflowers in his hands. “Oh, you must be Breccan.” She smiled.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Won’t you come in?”
“Um, no thanks. I just brought these for Sally. I heard she was ill.” He thrust the flowers forward.
“Oh, thanks. I’ll see that she gets them.”
“Who is it?” Elle asked, coming to the door. “Oh.”
“Hello, Mrs. Hadlock,” Breccan said sheepishly. “I’m Breccan, Sally’s friend.”
“Breccan, yes, I know.”
He shuffled his feet. “Um, I’ll be going now.” He backed away.
Elle grinned. “Why don’t you come in for a bit?” She took the flowers from Nancy and stuck them in a mason jar with water. “I’ll go see if she’s awake.” She left the room.
“So, tell me how you met my daughter,” Nancy said.
His eyes widened. “Oh, I thought she was Mrs. Hadlock, I’m sorry Mrs. Hadlock.”
Nancy laughed. “She is, and I’m not.”
His confused look amused her, but for Sally’s sake, she thought to fix it. “I’m her birth mother, but Mrs. Hadlock raised her. I, uh, was indisposed for a few years.”
“Oh,” he said, an odd look lighting his eyes. “You’re Mrs. Snyder, then.”
Nancy drew in a breath. “She told you?”
His eyes popped open. He seemed to realize his mistake. “Um, no, not really.”
“Not really?” she said firmly.
“No, ma’am.” He seemed uncomfortable, but resigned to the fact that he had to explain himself.
“No?” she said, her arms folded tight across her chest.
“No, ma’am,” he repeated. “She was mad at me and called her dad, Professor Hancock, instead of Hadlock. I figured the rest out on my own.” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “My dad’s a private investigator, and I sort of think like him.”
He rubbed his hands together, as if he was cold, even though it was toasty warm in the room. He forced a laugh, although it came out more like a squeak. “I mean, it’s obvious you’re not from around here. Sally’s weird accent and the way she acted sounded American.” He shrugged. “The rest was easy. I, uh, searched old newspapers in the public library.”
“Very clever,” Nancy said. “You realize we’ll have to move now.”
“Why?” he gasped. “No one knows, but me—I swear.”
The door opened and Sam came in. He didn’t seem surprised to see the boy. “Hello, Breccan.” Glancing over at the wildflowers he added, “I see you took my advice.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned to Nancy. “Welcome home, Nancy.” He gave her a warm hug. “How’s Sally doing?”
Elle came into the kitchen. ”She’s better than yesterday, but still a little feverish.”
Breccan stood. “I’ll be leaving, then.”
Nancy shook her head and gestured for him to sit back down. “No, Breccan. Tell them what you just told me.”
Breccan’s face turned as red as his hair. Sam’s smile dropped to a frown, and Elle’s eyes widened.
“I, uh, well,” Breccan stuttered. He stared down at his hands. “Please don’t move. Please. I’m sorry.” He looked up at Nancy with pleading in his eyes. “Please, Mrs. Snyder?”
At the mention of Nancy’s real surname, Elle gasped, and sat down quick. Sam’s mouth fell open, and Breccan teared up. Nancy sighed.
“Just listen to him,” she said, in a quiet tone.
Breccan explained, once again, how he knew who they were, ending with yet another plea for them to stay in Kiltegan.
The room was quiet.
“I’m in shock,” Elle whispered.
“Me, too,” said Sam. “What are we going to do?”
“He swears he won’t tell a soul,” Nancy said. She looked long and hard at Breccan. “And I believe him.”
A raspy voice came from the hallway. “I believe him, too.” Sally stepped near the entrance to the kitchen. “Hi, Mother. I’m so glad you’re back!” Staying at the edge of the hallway, she coughed, and then wrapped her robe tighter around her shoulders. “Anyhow, now that you know that he knows, maybe you’ll listen to him, when you won’t listen to me?”
Breccan squirmed in his seat.
Sally cleared her throat. “It’s true, you know, Breccan listens to me. He knows more about me, than you do.”
Elle looked from Sally to Breccan, and then at Nancy and Sam. “Tell us now,” she said, her voice soft. “What’s bothering you, sweetheart?”
Nancy followed her cue. “Yes, Sally. What is it?”
Sam pulled a chair over to Sally so she could sit. “You’re on,” he said, pulling a chair up beside her.
She took a deep breath and then squeezed her eyes shut. “I see Merrick in my dreams. He terrifies me. Almost every night he’s there. I wake up trembling so hard that I can’t stop.” She opened her eyes. “But you won’t let me talk about it. You just want me to pretend it never happened.”
Elle’s hand went to her chest, and Nancy dew in a quick breath. Sam shook his head. “I had no idea.”
“None of us did,” Elle added.
“I’m so sorry,” Nancy said. She got down on her knees in front of Sally and took her hands. “I’m so terribly sorry, Sally.” She laid her head in Sally’s lap and sobbed.
Elle jumped up and joined them, one arm wrapped around Sally, and the other around Nancy. “Oh, my.”
Breccan stood to leave. “I’ll be going now.”
“Uh, no,” Sam said firmly. The girls all watched, as he approached Breccan in tw
o strides.
“Sorry, Mr. Hancock, er, Hadlock, er, professor, I mean.”
Sam’s voice broke. “Well, son, it seems you’ve uncovered more than just our identities. Sally’s been trying to tell me something for a long time.” He shook his head. “Thanks to you, we now know what’s been bugging her.” He shook his hand. “Thanks.”
“Er, you’re welcome?” Breccan said timidly. He gave Sally a slight wave and stepped to the front door. “Call me when you feel better?”
She nodded.
Twenty-Eight
Returned
A few days had past. Breccan had been over almost every day to check on Sally. Nancy thought he fit right in. It was helpful having a future PI in the house. He picked up on everything, always pointing out Sally’s needs. Sally’s fever was gone, and she just had a tiny cough left. She was well enough to dress and join them at the table for a game of cards.
Breccan was no threat to the family. Their secret was safe with him. He seemed to know the value of honesty and hard work. It was obvious he was more than a friend to Sally, something she’d never had before, perhaps, a brother. Which was just fine with Nancy, who was very much aware that Breccan didn’t think of Sally as his sister. He appeared quite smitten with her. And who wouldn’t be? Her long, blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her eyes twinkled when she laughed at his jokes. She was funny and smart, and a force to be reckoned with in cards.
“Again? That’s three times,” Breccan grumbled.
“Four,” Sally corrected him. “I’ve beat you four times.”
He smirked. “Yeah, whatever.”
The phone rang.
“Would you get that, Sally?” Nancy called from the kitchen sink, her hands deep in sudsy water.
Sally had several cards in her hands. “Can you get that Breccan?”
Breccan jumped up to get it. “Hello?” He looked at Nancy. “It’s for you.”
“For me?”
She wiped her hands on a dish towel and took the receiver from him, stretching the long cord into the hallway. “Hello?”
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