by Karen White
CHAPTER 14
Ileft for work through the back door on the way to a few showings for a client, belatedly realizing that I’d gotten into the habit of using the front door because of the gaping hole in my backyard and the lingering feeling of unease I sensed whenever I was back there.
I was surprised to find Nola squatting down in front of the hole, wearing her school uniform, her backpack on the ground nearby. As if she could sense me and hear my unasked question, she called over her shoulder as I approached, “Mrs. Ravenel is running a little late, so I thought I’d check with Meghan to see if they’ve found anything interesting.”
I stopped behind her, looking at the hole to see Meghan and another grad student I’d been introduced to earlier, Rachel Flooring, with small shovels gently scraping away dirt from old bricks. Apparently, Meghan didn’t like to work in the cistern alone anymore, and always had at least one companion to dig alongside her. “You’re here early,” I said, noticing her ubiquitous pearls and cardigan sweater.
She smiled brightly up at me. “I know. But there’s a sale at J.Crew today that I wanted to get to, so I figured if I started here early I’d have time to get there before lunch.”
Of course, I refrained from saying. “Have you found anything new and interesting? I was kind of hoping you would be done by now and I could fill in this eyesore.”
Both she and Rachel looked at me as if I’d just suggested throwing a bag of kittens in a well. When Meghan had regained her composure, she said, “We want to be thorough, which is why it’s taking so long. But believe me, we’re working as fast as we can. We just don’t want to damage the bricks, because they have historic significance, and we’ll want to analyze them, too.”
“Look what they’ve found,” Nola said as she pointed at something on the blanket, where the girls had been placing artifacts—their word, not mine.
I stared at the collection of what appeared to be small animal bones and pottery shards. “Looks like what the plumber pulled from our garbage disposal last week,” I said with a grin. It quickly faded as I was met with the collective frowns of all three girls.
Nola straightened, then shouldered her backpack. “I’ll do you the favor of not repeating what you just said to Sophie.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Sorry. I meant Dr. Wallen-Arasi. But she told me I could call her Sophie.”
“I know, but we’re in Charleston,” I said, hoping that would explain everything.
We said our good-byes and I followed Nola to the front of the house, where Jayne was tucking a blanket around the children in the jogging stroller my father had brought over to our house. I’d yet to use it, but Jayne apparently enjoyed her morning jog with the children in tow. She wore tight running pants that accentuated her long legs and toned hips, and a close-fitting top that showed off arms that didn’t seem to wobble as she bent over the stroller to make sure the children were protected from the cool morning breeze. I quickly looked away when I realized I was frowning. Wrinkles were the last thing I needed right now.
“I like our new nanny,” Nola said. “She’s really good with the babies and doesn’t seem to mind your OCD impulses.”
“Excuse me?”
She was already moving toward the front gate. “Oh, nothing.” She stopped. “There is one thing. . . .”
“One thing?” I asked, wondering if she was talking about Jayne or about to apologize for the OCD comment.
She shrugged. “It’s just that I’m not really blaming her or anything, but ever since Jayne’s arrived I can’t seem to write any music. I’m sure it’s just bad timing, but it’s odd, you know?”
“I’m sure it’s just a phase. Talk to your dad—he goes through creative dry spells, too. He might be able to guide you through it. But I’m sure it has nothing to do with Jayne.”
“I know. You’re probably right. It’s just so weird. Like a curtain has been pulled over that part of my brain I use for creativity.”
I blinked, thinking it odd that she’d used those exact words to describe her artistic block, but was distracted from pondering it further by a familiar sedan pulling up in front of the house and parking at the curb. “It’s Detective Riley. I wonder what he’s doing here so early.”
Nola jerked her chin in Jayne’s direction. “I could guess. But she definitely needs some coaching. I overheard her yesterday on the phone talking with him, and I think she actually complimented him on his use of toothpaste and the fact that he had two legs. I mean, who says that stuff to anyone, much less an attractive member of the opposite sex?”
Realizing that her question was most likely rhetorical, I didn’t bother to respond that I actually knew someone besides Jayne who was equally as awkward. But the person I had in mind was married now, so it didn’t matter.
Alston’s mother pulled up next to Thomas with a wave, and with a quick peck on my cheek, Nola ran to the van, waving to Jayne and Thomas as they pulled away.
“Just the two people I needed to see,” Thomas said as he and I approached Jayne and the stroller. “I know it’s early, but I hoped to catch you before you got into the workday.”
He eyed Jayne appreciatively and I watched as her cheeks turned a bright red. “Good morning, Thomas,” she said. “I have two children. Here. To run. I mean, they’re not mine. But . . .” She closed her eyes as if mentally scolding her tongue. “Good morning,” she said again, then forcibly shut her mouth. Nola was right. It was painful to witness.
It was clear that Thomas was struggling not to laugh. To hide it he squatted down in front of the jogging stroller so he could be eye level with the children, the way somebody used to small children would do. I knew Thomas was a favorite uncle to a gaggle of nieces and nephews, so it didn’t surprise me. He reached over with his thumb and rubbed Sarah’s cheek. “Looks like Mommy’s already kissed you good-bye.”
I was already digging in my purse for the pack of emergency tissues I always carried. “I thought I’d wiped it off.”
“No need,” he said. “I got it all with my thumb. You must not have been wearing your glasses.” He’d said it lightly, but his words stung. I was already feeling old and dowdy next to Jayne, and I didn’t need him to highlight that I was quickly headed toward bifocals and a cane.
I looked pointedly at my watch. “I really need to get to work.”
He straightened. “Yes, sorry. A couple of things I thought both of you would be interested in. First, I went back to South Battery and really gave a good look around the perimeter to see whether there might be a hidden access point to the house where the cat could be getting inside, but no luck. I’ll keep looking.”
Jayne had begun to stretch, her forehead pressed against her knees, and Thomas’s voice faltered for a moment. I wanted to point out that the only reason she could do that was that she hadn’t given birth to two babies.
Refocusing, Thomas said, “And the phone number that had been assigned to the landline at the house is definitely disconnected. It must have been a crossed line coming from another phone, because that’s the only thing we could think of that would make sense. Not that crossed lines really happen anymore, either, but that’s as good a guess as we could make.” His gaze rested briefly on mine. “Just let me know if it happens again. The good news is that it doesn’t appear as if an intruder has been in the house. Still, you need an alarm system not just for your own safety, but also to protect all the valuables in the house. I have a contact in the business who can get you a good deal. If you like, I can set up an appointment for you. I’ll even be there with you if you want me to be. Not because I don’t trust him to give you a fair deal, but because I know you don’t like being alone in that house.”
“Yes,” Jayne said, nodding vigorously. “The house. It has a cat.”
I nudged her with my foot. I was beginning to worry that the children would never learn how to carry on regular conversatio
ns if this was what they heard all day. I made a mental note to make sure Jack, Nola, and I had lots of normal conversations in the twins’ hearing so they would know how nonawkward people spoke.
“Thank you. That would be nice,” she said before clamping her mouth shut and sending me a grateful grin.
Thomas continued. “I thought maybe we could use that time to also check the inventory you received from your lawyers just to make sure nothing is missing, and then possibly have dinner together.”
He’d said it with a casual tone, but I could tell he was holding his breath, anticipating her answer.
She swallowed and I could almost hear her lining up the words so that they were organized before they came out. “Thank you. That would be nice.”
She smiled and we both smiled back, all of us seemingly relieved that she’d managed at least one coherent sentence. JJ began to bounce up and down and vocalize his impatience at being kept still for too long. Jayne rubbed his head, then reciprocated with Sarah so she wouldn’t feel left out.
“Do you run?” she asked Thomas before turning abruptly and pushing the stroller into the street, then jogging away from us with a wave.
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “I think she meant to ask me if I was a runner while at the same time explaining that she needed to run. An economy of words. Very impressive.”
“I’ve had some very coherent conversations with her, so I think it’s just you,” I said.
“Great. Well, hopefully, after we’ve spent some time together, she’ll relax a little.” He stared after her for a moment. “I know we’ve never met before—I’m positive—but I can’t help thinking I should know her. Maybe she looks like a celebrity, and that’s why she seems familiar, you know?”
“Like one of those women on The Biggest Loser?”
He gave me an odd look. “I don’t think so. It’ll come to me—it always does. I’ll let you know.”
“Is there anything else? I really need to get to work.” I didn’t tell him that I had just enough extra minutes to stop by Ruth’s Bakery and get my doughnuts and coffee with lots of cream. I happened to know that Ruth was taking a few days off to visit her sister in Charlotte, and a cousin would be in charge and so had planned my day accordingly.
“Yeah,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. “Veronica came to see me yesterday and gave me this to give to you.” Holding out his hand, he let the broken chain with the Greek letter pendant dangle from his fingers. “She told me that your mother had called her to tell her that you would help solve her sister’s murder. She understands that you have other things going on in your life right now and she said she could wait. She’s waited twenty years already, so a little longer won’t matter. But she wanted you to have this just in case you forgot.”
Like I could. The memory of my mother speaking in the otherworldly voice was enough to scar me for life. I held out my hand and felt the cool metal fall into my palm. “Okay. I don’t know when I’ll be ready, but I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you. I know it’s a big thing to ask. And just to clarify, it was Veronica who suggested she go speak with Ginette—she’d heard about her from a friend, and trusted her because she knew you and had read about you recently in the paper when that whole business of who really owned your house came out a year or so ago. I’d never go behind your back. I need you to trust me on that just in case you do decide to work with me on future cold cases.”
“I know. I’ll keep you posted,” I said.
We said good-bye and I made my way to the converted carriage house we used as a garage. I sat in my car for a long moment, feeling the weight of the necklace and broken chain in my hand until on a whim I decided to wrap it around my rearview mirror. The memory of Adrienne’s reflection and the grief in Veronica’s voice wasn’t something I could easily forget.
I watched as Jayne jogged by on the opposite side of the street, heading toward the river with the stroller, her ponytail swinging, her posterior not even shaking in its Lycra prison. She looked as though she belonged in this neighborhood with those children and that house. With a handsome husband who looked just like Jack.
I forced my thoughts away from that train wreck and turned the key in the ignition, something Nola had said niggling at my brain. I was sliding into my parking spot behind Henderson House Realty when I finally remembered what it was. She’d said something about feeling as if a curtain had fallen down inside her brain, blocking the place where her creativity existed. I knew what she’d meant. Because that was exactly what I’d felt the first time I stepped into the Pinckney mansion on South Battery Street.
My father was in the garden at my Tradd Street house when I came home later that afternoon. The twins were parked in their double stroller, watching him trim the remaining Louisa rosebushes by the fountain, their attention alternating between the snapping of his pruning shears and the splash of water from the peeing statue.
A small Jetta sedan with a Citadel bumper sticker was parked at the curb in front of the house. “Anybody I know?” I asked, indicating the car as I covered the children’s faces with kisses and sat on the bench in front of them. They both bounced up and down, so I unbuckled them and put one of them on each knee, jostling them gently as I’d seen Jayne do.
“Oh, yes,” my dad said, lowering his shears. “It’s that Cooper Ravenel—Alston’s older brother. Seems he’s come to ask for Jack’s permission to take Nola to a Citadel dance.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I guess I’ll be staying outside for a little bit, then, waiting for the thunder to clear. Did you hide Jack’s hunting rifle?”
“Probably should have,” he said, glancing back at the house and making me worry.
“Where’s Jayne?” I asked.
“Apparently, she’s a bit of a cook, and when Jack said he was in the mood for Italian, she asked Mrs. Houlihan if she could help her in the kitchen tonight. I don’t know what’s going on in there, but it smells wonderful and I don’t think tofu is involved at all.”
“How nice.” There must have been something in my tone of voice, because he sent me a hard stare. Eager to change the subject, I said, “Rebecca told me something interesting the other day that I hoped you might clarify for me. She said that Mother was crazy about Sumter Pinckney, and that she thought they would get married.”
He lifted a branch with the tip of the shears and tilted his head each way to analyze it. “Why don’t you ask your mother?”
“Because I thought if she wanted me to know, she would have told me. It’s just odd, though. I’ve been practically living and breathing the Pinckney house, and even brought her there, but she never mentioned anything about him other than that she remembered him, and that she had a schoolgirl crush on him. But Rebecca said it was much more than that.”
With a sigh, my father put down the pruning shears and sat next to me on the bench. “I met your mother at a Citadel dance when we were both nineteen. She was someone else’s date, but that didn’t stop me—I’ve always been one of those people who believes that once you see something you want, you figure out how to get it. That’s how it was when I saw Ginny. It was love at first sight for both of us. So even if she had a schoolgirl’s crush on a friend’s older brother, it was never more than that. She chose me, and I chose her, and we loved each other hard and we loved each other completely so that there wasn’t any room for anybody else. And that’s all there is to the story.”
I didn’t mention their divorce or subsequent reconciliation because that would complicate things. They were together now anyway, so none of it really mattered. But I felt reassured, somehow. That despite my rocky early years, their love for each other and for me was real and lasting, even with the bumps in the road we’d navigated to get where we were now. Maybe I just needed to hear it, regardless of what Rebecca might believe and feel the urge to tell me.
“Thanks, Dad. I don’t know why I
let Rebecca get under my skin like that. Like Mother wouldn’t have mentioned it if it were true.”
“Exactly.” He put his hands on his knees and stood, catching sight of the broken gold necklace and pendant I’d knotted around my neck; I’d meant to bring it into the house instead of leaving it hanging on my car mirror.
“What’s that?” he asked.
Before I could answer, Sarah reached for it, the pendant disappearing into her tiny fist. Her eyes popped wide-open and she screamed, her small fingers opening as if they’d been burned. She jerked back from me so fast that she would have fallen from my lap if my father hadn’t been there to catch her.
Despite the fact that the roses hadn’t begun to bloom yet, the heavy scent of them invaded this corner of the garden, acting as a pacifier for Sarah, who quickly quieted, her gaze focused on something near the fountain.
“She must be hungry,” my dad said, stealing the words from my mouth.
“Must be,” I said, standing with JJ and reaching for Sarah. I made my way across the garden in my heels, smelling roses and listening to the sound of the fountain, and wondering how far down the road of denial he and I were willing to travel before we ran into the truth.
CHAPTER 15
Itook a deep breath as I stood outside Jack’s study. I’d just come back from my morning walk with my mother and hadn’t showered yet, but I knew I’d better get this over with before I changed my mind. This was all part of the new mature Melanie. It wasn’t that I didn’t think being open and honest was good for me. It was just that change was hard, like learning to choose vegetables instead of chocolate.
I gave a brief knock on the door, then opened it and stuck my head inside. Nola’s grand piano dominated the middle of the room, but looking past it I could see Jack at his desk against the window, wearing the cardigan sweater with elbow patches the twins had given him for Christmas. I’d told him that we’d thought it made him look more writerly and that it—along with the sheepskin-lined moccasin slippers Nola had given him—would help get him over his creative slump. It worried me a little to see him wearing both now.