Captain York looked over my shoulder. His jaw pulsed. I knew before I turned that Miguel was standing there, listening to every word being spoken. The case York had sewed up against Miguel was coming undone before his eyes.
Cliff wobbled on his feet. I thought his knees might give out, but somehow, he stayed upright. He crossed one arm over his chest and scrubbed his face with his other hand. He looked at his daughter. Exhaled. Closed his eyes. “You killed her?” he finally asked, his voice so low I could barely hear the question.
“I-I d-didn’t mean to. S-she started to . . . to . . . cho—”
She broke off as she brought her hand to her neck.
My blood turned cold as another piece of the puzzle fell into place. It was spring. It wasn’t hot, but it certainly wasn’t cold, yet Rachel was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and had a scarf wound around her neck. Each time I’d seen her, she’d been wearing something similar. “Rachel,” I said, coaxing her with my voice.
She raised her eyes to mine. Suddenly all I could see in them was her terror and pain. I nodded, directing my gaze to her scarf. Her eyelids fluttered and she inhaled, releasing the breath through her mouth. Slowly, she took hold of her scarf and unwound it. Around me were gasps. Someone said, “Oh my God,” under their breath. I covered my mouth with my hand. Faded yellowish bruises marked her neck.
A strangled sound came from Cliff. “My God,” he breathed out.
Tate’s eyes went wide. “What’s that? What happened, Rach?”
Cliff found his voice. “She did this to you?”
Rachel closed her eyes, breathing heavily as she nodded. She pulled up the sleeve of her left arm revealing another set of distorted and fading bruises. She spoke in scarcely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to do it. I just wanted her to stop. I had to make her stop.”
“Step back, please.” Emmaline’s voice came through the hushed horror of silence, strong and commanding. She gestured to Captain York to come forward. Moments later, they were escorting Rachel, Tate, and Cliff away from the festivities of the Spring Fling and to the parking lot. I knew Em would get the entire story out of Rachel and would do everything she could to protect her.
Chapter 23
When I’d moved from Austin back to Santa Sofia, I’d hauled all my photography equipment back with me. I’d finally gotten the second spare room in my house set up with a green backdrop for green screen, a white backdrop, side lighting, and everything else I needed.
Gretchen Arnold was my first official client in my in-home studio.
She showed up right on time, bright and early so we could capture the soft light of the morning sun. She looked ready to pop. She wore dark gray leggings and a white T-shirt, looking ready for a yoga class. She held up a burlap bag. “I brought a dress, too.”
“Perfect,” I said, my mind already planning different shots. “We’ll take some inside in the studio, but also out in the yard. Okay?”
“I’ve never had professional photos taken,” she said, “so whatever you say.” She grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet. “I’m excited!”
I led her to my new studio space. I’d set up side lighting and had the white backdrop in place. I positioned a few cream-colored pillows on the floor and helped her down, setting them up so she could recline slightly. I positioned her, instructed her to reveal her belly, and set to work, moving around her to take close-ups of her hands shaped into a heart and laid on her bulging belly.
“How’s Rachel doing?” I asked her after I’d taken at least fifty shots.
“She’s hanging in there. Her dad has her seeing a therapist. She knows deep down that it was self-defense, but she killed her mom, you know, so that’s going to leave some emotional scars.”
“Did she tell you what happened?” I asked. I’d heard the lowdown from Emmaline, but I wondered how much Gretchen had known.
She looked suddenly melancholy. “No, but I knew something was wrong. She wouldn’t tell me, though.”
I helped her up and adjusted the settings on my camera while she went into the bathroom to change into the other outfit she’d brought. She emerged wearing a white eyelet V-neck dress. I led her outside. Agatha was stretched out on her belly in the sun, fast asleep.
Gretchen let out a soft, “Ohhh,” followed by, “It’s beautiful out here.”
The vibrant green of the hydrangea leaves provided a backdrop for the spring flowers, which were in full bloom. It was early enough the lighting was still soft. Gretchen walked alongside the flower beds, the sunlight filtering though the leaves of the Japanese maples in the corner of the yard like lace. I snapped a few candids, glancing at the digital screen on the back of my camera to check how they were turning out.
“Ethereal” was the word that came to mind.
I offered her a glass of iced tea and one of the blueberry scones I’d made before she’d arrived, and we sat at the table on the little patio outside the French doors leading to the living room.
She took a bite of the scone and closed her eyes. “So good,” she said after she swallowed. “You have a gift.”
“Olaya Solis has the gift. I’m just learning.”
She held up the pastry. “This is not the work of someone just learning.”
I felt my cheeks warm from the compliment. I’d come a long way with my baking in a short time. I doubted I’d ever get to the level Olaya was at, but that was okay. My bread, and sometimes pastry, baking had become my favorite pastime. My neighbors, especially Mrs. Branford, loved my hobby since they were the beneficiaries of all the extras I baked. I certainly couldn’t eat it all.
After a few moments of silence, I broached the subject I’d been wondering about. “You said your dad brought you here when you were little. To see your mom?”
“I think he thought if she saw me, maybe she’d come back to us.” A veil of sadness fell over her. “It didn’t work. My mother was not a good person. What kind of person attacks their own daughter?”
A monster.
I thought about all the machinations and manipulations Nessa Renchrik had under her belt. Having a child with Guillermo, but keeping Tate from him. Orchestrating the deportation of Sylvia and Carmen. Manipulating the school board vote for the surfing club. Her untimely death changed the outcome of that vote. Good for Chavez Elementary. Too bad for Jerry Zenmark.
“I’m glad you’re there for Rachel. She’s going to need you. Tate, too.”
“Cliff introduced Tate to Guillermo,” she said.
I’d been about to take a bite of scone but stopped midway and put it back down instead. “Wow. That must have been hard for him.”
“I think he knew deep down. It almost seemed like a relief. Like he didn’t have to wonder anymore.”
That made sense. Wondering if your wife had had an affair was one thing. Wondering if she’d had a child with someone else and was hiding it was entirely different.
“They’ll get through this,” Gretchen said.
I hoped she was right.
Chapter 24
Miguel and I arrived at my childhood home, two bottles of wine in hand and a tureen of sausage, kale, and potato soup in hand. I hadn’t gotten a chance to pick up bread from Yeast of Eden. We’d have to do without.
We joined my father, Billy, and Emmaline in the backyard. Miguel set the soup in the center of the table and uncorked the Sangiovese, pouring us each a glass. He raised his and toasted the newlyweds. “You got back in the nick of time,” he said at the end.
Em lifted her beer bottle. “I’ll drink to that.”
“Are you keeping Captain York?” I asked.
“He’s got a good track record,” she said. “He was way off base this time, but I think he was trying to close the case quickly to prove his worth.”
“Yeah, at the expense of Miguel,” I said, frowning. I didn’t like that Em was defending the guy.
“I can’t discuss it,” she said, “but suffice it to say that I’m handling things.”
“Repri
mand,” Billy said.
Em didn’t confirm, but she didn’t deny. If York had to stay, I hoped she would be able to rein him in.
“What’s happening with Rachel?” I asked.
“The DA is not pressing charges. They’ve deemed it self-defense.”
I felt a weight I hadn’t known I’d been carrying lift from my shoulders. “So, what happened?”
“It’s just like she said. She was upset with her mom when she found out about Tate’s biological father. She met her at the district office. Rachel says she told her mom she was going to tell her father the truth. That’s when Nessa went off on her. Rachel says her mom threatened her, then, when Rachel didn’t back down, Nessa attacked.”
“Those bruises,” I said.
My dad just shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
“There are more on her back. Turns out the abuse wasn’t a onetime thing. Nessa never wanted kids, according to Cliff. She wanted her political career more. She got pregnant and he convinced her to keep the baby.”
“So, she took out her anger on Rachel?” My stomach churned with nausea. “What about Tate?”
“He’s being evaluated,” Em said.
“Cliff didn’t suspect anything?”
“Apparently not.”
Billy scoffed. “I don’t get that.”
“People see what they want to see, Son,” my dad said.
Emmaline nodded in agreement. “Nessa would have killed her own daughter if Rachel hadn’t fought back.”
I sipped my wine, then said, “I saw Gretchen. She said Cliff has found a therapist for Rachel.”
Em nodded. “She needs it, but she’ll get through it. She’s got lots of people rallying around her.”
I knew that to be true. Candy had called to say she and her daughter Ronnie would do any- and everything they could to help Rachel. The girl had friends standing by.
My dad stood. “I’ll get the bowls.” He disappeared into the house, returning a few minutes later with them, as well as spoons, and a basket covered with a cloth.
Miguel ladled soup into each bowl as my dad removed the cloth covering the basket.
I stared. In the basket was a mound of rolls. Rye pumpernickel rolls, to be exact. The very same rolls Olaya had served Mrs. Branford and me the week before. The same rolls she said she’d made for the Spring Fling.
Olaya’s glow.
My dad’s chipper mood.
Olaya had said she was seeing someone.
Holy smokes. Was her secret romance with my father?
Owen Culpepper, you devil, I thought with a smile.
Later, back at Miguel’s house, Agatha curled up in the little dog bed Miguel had bought for her. We sat on the outdoor couch on the porch overlooking the vast darkness of the Pacific Ocean. “So, your dad and Olaya,” he said after I filled him in on my suspicions. “Are you okay with that?”
I hadn’t been sure how I felt until he asked the question. I only had to think about it for a split second before I said, “He needs to live his life. If they are making each other happy, then I’m all for it.”
Miguel took my hand. “You never answered my question. About rug rats,” he said.
“I’ve thought about it,” I said, going for nonchalance, but this time my smile reached my eyes. Miguel was in the clear and life was good. “I want a few.”
“With me?” he asked, squeezing my hand.
“Only with you, Miguel.”
Recipes
Van Dough Focaccia Bread Art
bread art for the eyes and the eating
Yield: Makes approximately 1 large 10x14 or two medium 9x6
(Recipe courtesy of The Vineyard Baker)
Total time: 4 hours
Ingredients
For the Preferment
1 cup bread flour
½ cup cool water
1/4 teaspoon instant yeast
For the “van Dough”
1 ¼ cups warm water
1 ½ teaspoons instant yeast
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil, plus extra for dough
shaping
3 cups bread flour
1 ½ teaspoons salt
Some Suggested Garnishes/Toppings
Olive oil
Salt and pepper
Garlic
Parmesan cheese
Sweet peppers
Scallions
Basil or parsley
Kalamata olives
Purple and red onions
Capers
Grape or cherry tomatoes
Carrots
Cooked beans
Nuts and seeds
Olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic, and Parmesan cheese make great additions.
Little sweet peppers make great flowers, fresh scallions or chives for stems, basil or parsley for leaves.
Kalamata or purple olives, purple onions, capers, small grape tomatoes and cherry tomatoes, red onions, carrots, cooked beans, nuts, and seeds all add beautiful color to your palette. You are only limited by your imagination.
Look at life through an edible lens. A walk in the woods, a visit to a museum, or just a walk through the grocery store or farmer’s market provides wonderful inspirations.
Equipment You Will Need
I would encourage you to make this dough by hand in order to get a full understanding of the texture and process of making yeasted bread. For this you will only need:
a large mixing bowl
a whisk
measuring utensils
a bowl scraper or spatula
a small bowl or deli container for preferment
a kitchen towel or plastic wrap for covering dough as it rises
Other items, such as parchment paper, a baking pan, and a paring knife, are used as part of the vegetable prep and baking processes.
Directions
Step 1: Preferment
Preparing a day ahead is best; however, you could start this step 3–4 hours before making the actual dough if you forgot. Mix 1 cup of bread flour with ¾ cup of water and ¼ teaspoon of yeast, mix well, and leave covered in a bowl or container at room temp overnight. This long fermentation process evokes the deep nutty sweetness of the grain and lends itself to better textures.
Step 2: The “van Dough”
The next day:
Place 1 cup of warm water and 1 teaspoon of yeast in bowl; mix to dissolve. Add all of your prefermented dough and 1 tablespoon of olive oil. “Squish” this up with your fingers, breaking apart the preferment in the water mixture until there are no large chunks, then add the 3 cups of bread flour and 1 ½ teaspoons of salt.
Mix all ingredients together until the dough just comes together in a shaggy ball. It will appear lumpy and sticky. Make sure all the flour has been incorporated, about 6-8 minutes. Let it rest covered for 15 minutes. The next process of stretching and folding takes the place of classic kneading. It is helpful to set a bowl of water near your mixing bowl to dip your fingers in while stretching and folding this dough so dough won’t stick to your fingers. You will stretch the dough over itself right in the bowl, turning the bowl and pulling the dough from the outer edge, then folding it over toward the middle until the dough becomes a smooth ball. Eight full turns in the bowl should be enough. Cover and rest the dough for another 15 minutes; repeat this process two more times at 15-minute intervals for a total of 3 sessions of stretching and folding. After the final stretch and fold, you will notice the dough transforms into a supple, smooth texture that moves as one uniform ball in the bowl. Next let the dough rest in a warm place well covered for 1 to 2 hours to proof or until it just about doubles in size. Now is the time to prep your veggies, herbs, and spices for your creative presentation while the dough is “on the rise.”
Vegetable and Herb Prep
Use raw vegetables only. Cut colorful mini peppers in different shapes, long strips, or circles. Trim up your herbs; slice scallions long ways for stems, or use chives. Basil or parsley can be used for leaves. Kalamata or black olives c
an be chopped for flower centers. Purple onions provide brilliant color. Some cherry tomatoes can be sliced but should be laid on a paper towel to soak up some of the seeds and moisture before using. If you are using colorful carrots, slice very thinly. The exception to raw vegetables is mushrooms! These contain a lot of water. I highly suggest sautéing them a bit and then patting dry before using. Cut slightly thicker pieces for tomatoes and onions. Herbs have thin membranes and brown up fast; to maintain the green, dip your herbs in a lemon-water solution just before placing on focaccia and try not getting too much olive oil on them.
Come up with some creative ideas on your own. I’ve seen some people use beans, seeds, and nuts. All great ideas and they provide color as well as nutrition and flavor! Remember to keep in mind, some vegetables have varying amounts of natural sugars, and nuts have natural oils. Both will get darker in the oven as the focaccia bakes.
The Shaping of the Dough
Preheat your oven to 450° F; line a heavy-gauge sheet pan (12x18) with parchment paper and olive oil. Gently turn out the risen dough onto a lightly floured flat surface. Gently shape the dough into a fat rectangle, place this in the center of the pan, pour a generous amount of good olive oil on the top surface of the dough, and continue to stretch and dimple with your fingers until the dough is the desired size. Sort of like a cat kneading. Do not use a rolling pin; this will leave you with dense dough. The air bubbles are part of the overall character of focaccias. If your dough keeps shrinking back, don’t fight it, let it rest for a few minutes; the gluten will relax and it will be easy to work with again. Be sure to leave a little room on the top, bottom, and sides of your baking sheet for baking expansion.
Placing Your Decorations on the Dough
Death Gone A-Rye Page 21