At the River’s Edge

by Mariah Stewart

  “Could you do me a favor?” she asked. Before he could respond, she said, “Please tell Jesse I drove back to his place and I’ll talk to him in the morning.”

  “I’ll tell him, but are you sure you’re okay?” Even though he knew she wasn’t, even though he knew she’d deny it. Whatever happened had made her so sad that it was hard for Jason to meet her eyes. There was so much pain there. “Can I drive you …”

  “I have my car, thanks.”

  “Is there something I can do?”

  “No, no. But thank you.” She tried to force a smile, but her lips were trembling.

  “Aw, Sophie …” His arms reached out and drew her in. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry it’s made you so sad.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “If it were all right, you wouldn’t be crying.” He held her very gently, as if she were made of fine crystal and she’d shatter if he held her too tightly. But for a moment, it felt like she belonged there, that she was exactly where she was supposed to be. “I’m not going to ask, but whatever it is, if there’s anything I can do …”

  “You can’t.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “But thank you.”

  “Look, if you ever want to talk …” He tried to hold onto it, but the moment had passed, and he felt her begin to slip away from him. “How ’bout I drive you home? Or someplace where we can sit and talk until you feel a little better?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Thanks, Jason, but I think I need to be alone right now. It’s just something I have to work out for myself.” Without looking at him, she took off for the parking lot, her back still straight, her pace clipped and steady though she’d looked anything but.

  She looked like someone who was running away.

  Yeah, guy trouble.

  Jason didn’t know who and he didn’t know what, but he did know that whoever the guy was who’d caused such sadness was a total asshole who didn’t deserve her.

  He wished he could have found the right words to comfort her. Instead, she’d walked away with whatever pain she was feeling still tucked deep inside her and he’d been powerless to help.

  Jason watched until she located her car, got in, and drove from the lot before going back inside to deliver her message.

  Chapter 10

  SOPHIE sat in the dark on a chair in Jesse’s living room, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, her thoughts a jumble. Hearing Chris’s voice had been jarring. She’d been determined to put her relationship with him behind her, but like a bad penny, he’d come right back.

  Oh, his apology had sounded sincere enough, but a little time, a little distance, and she saw him now in a totally different light. If not for having to break the news to her about the case, would he have called at all? Did he really think that he could talk her into giving him another chance, even while all systems were apparently still go with Anita? Was he crazy?

  As far as Sophie was concerned, the import of his apology paled compared to the news he’d delivered about her case.

  More accurately, that would be Anita’s case now, she reminded herself.

  God, but that frosted her!

  She sought comfort in the knowledge that by dropping the charges at this juncture, there was always the possibility that if evidence was discovered in the future, the case could be revisited, but she knew how likely that was—and she knew she wouldn’t be the one to refile the charges.

  She heard Jesse’s key turn in the front door lock, heard him in the foyer where she’d left the light on. He grew still for a moment, listening, she suspected, for sounds of life in the quiet house. There was a slight thunk, the sound of Jesse’s briefcase on the hardwood floor when he dropped it near the stairwell, his customary spot. His footsteps trailed down the hall to the kitchen. A moment later, she heard the refrigerator open—Jesse on the hunt for a snack, no doubt, something more substantial than the cookies and punch they served at the school reception.

  Sophie wondered what Jason told her brother when she didn’t return to the science fair. She’d had such mixed emotions when she realized that Jason had followed her outside. She was totally embarrassed that he found her in such a state of turmoil, and yet, at the same time, she’d been grateful that he had. Just for a moment or two, the comfort he’d offered her had eased her heart, and just for a moment, there’d been that zing again.

  When she heard Jesse in the hall, she sunk back into the chair, as if by doing so, she’d disappear inside the paisley fabric. As an attorney, Jesse would totally understand how she felt about her case. But she just wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, not even Jess, about anything that had happened that night. He turned off the hall light and climbed the steps to the second floor. It wasn’t until she heard his bedroom door open and close that she let out the breath she’d been holding.

  She wondered who had told the thirteen-year-old girl that her rapists were going free.

  She sat in the dark amidst the night sounds, a creak from something here, a squeak of something there, the wind whistling through the trees and slapping against the exterior brick walls, while she thought things through—Chris and her job and her future. Another hour passed before she tiptoed up the stairs to her room and, tossing her pants and sweater onto a chair, crawled into bed in her underwear.

  When she awoke in the morning, Jesse was gone and fat, wet snowflakes were falling, catching on the trees and shrubs and covering the grass in the yard. She made coffee on Jesse’s annoying machine and listened to it sputter as she sat at the kitchen table writing out her game plan on the small pad she always carried in her purse. When her thoughts were in place, she rinsed out her coffee cup, then went upstairs, changed, and drove to Jesse’s office.

  “Hi, Violet.” Sophie poked her head into the reception area. “Jesse in?”

  “Good morning, dear.” Violet’s face lit up when she saw Sophie in the doorway. “No, I’m afraid he had a meeting with a client this morning. I expect he’ll be back by noon.”

  “Do you think it would be all right if I used his office for a few minutes?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “I promise not to move anything on his desk or otherwise upset your efforts to organize him,” Sophie assured her.

  “I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”

  Seated at Jesse’s desk, Sophie turned on his computer and opened a Word document. She typed for several minutes; then, satisfied with her wording, she printed out the memo and read it over.

  Jess — Something’s come up at my office and I’ve had to leave. Thanks for the hospitality. See you at the wedding.

  Sophie

  P.S. Leave the “& Enright” on the letterhead.

  P.P.S. Any chance I could sublet your house after you move in with Brooke?

  P.P.P.S. And could you please clean out that little back office for me?

  Sophie smiled. That ought to get his attention. She left the sheet of paper unfolded smack in the center of his blotter. She was just about to push away from the desk when a bit of braided green string caught her eye. She tugged it out from under a pile of papers. The key to Walsh’s. She tossed it up and down in her open palm a few times before dropping it into her bag. Then she turned off the light and closed the door.

  “I’m going to run out for a few, Violet. Could I bring you anything from town?” Sophie paused at the door.

  “No, dear, but thank you.”

  “I’ll be back.”

  Sophie fought the urge to skip as she walked to her car. The sporty little sedan had a luxury logo and she had loved every minute driving it, but this morning, all Sophie could see was its lack of cargo space, space she was going to need if she was going to pack in all her clothes. Maybe an SUV, she thought as she headed toward River Road. One of the new ones that got better gas mileage than the older ones did.

  She parked in front of the old stone building and watched the falling snow, so soft and wet that the flakes seemed to drop in little bundles like
cotton balls. The roads were too warm from the past week for the snow to stick, but it clung to the branches of the trees behind the restaurant and piled on top of the ugly fence separating Walsh’s property from the one next door. She got out of the car and locked her bag inside, then went to the front door and unlocked it.

  The old restaurant seemed even darker than it had been when she and Jesse had been there, but she’d seen everything she’d needed to see on her first visit. Right now, she just wanted to stand inside the open room and let her dreams build. This morning, her decisions having been made in the dark the night before, she needed her dreams, needed to feel that she was taking control of her life and moving forward in her own direction. Committing herself to Enright & Enright had been step one. Resigning from the DA’s office would be step two. Buying this place—making it her own—would be the third and final step.

  Starting right now, she was taking charge.

  She walked around the big room, envisioning what she’d do there, how it would look. She’d paint the interior walls a soft, creamy yellow, the tables and chairs black. The countertop was a mess of scratches and chips, so that would have to go. Poured concrete, tinted something pretty, perhaps a soft gray, might be nice, if the wood was too far gone. The metal stools looked okay, but the seat cushions would need to be replaced. She’d probably have to do that herself, but she’d figure it out.

  As for décor, she wasn’t sure. She loved the Bay but didn’t want her place to look too kitschy—no fake blue-claw crabs or fishing nets. She’d come up with something that reflected the true flavor of St. Dennis. Some valances at the windows—maybe a black-and-white toile—and some ceramic vases. Pale yellow maybe, like the walls, or blue, like the sky. She could grow the flowers herself from seeds, right outside the door and around the perimeter of the building, at least until she could get a proper garden going in that strip of ground between here and the bait shop. There was plenty of room for herbs and a cutting garden. Maybe after she got established, she’d plant some of her own produce.

  She’d clear away some of the overgrowth outside and buy some flagstones to build a patio, buy a couple of tables and offer alfresco dining framed by views of the river. Of course, she’d have to plant something along the side to block out the ugly fence, but surely she could find shrubs or trees that would grow quickly.

  She went into the kitchen, wishing she’d brought a flashlight as she opened each of the cabinets, took note of their contents, then closed the doors. The plain white dishes would be perfect if there were enough of them that were not chipped or cracked, but it was too dark to tell.

  She glanced around one last time.

  “I’ll be back,” she said aloud before she locked the door behind her. “I don’t know when, but I will.”

  Back at the office, she slipped the key under the pile on Jesse’s desk where she’d found it. Violet wasn’t at her desk, but she could hear someone in the little kitchen at the end of the hall. She walked past the small room she’d asked Jesse to clean out for her. The odds were that he’d never get around to it, but Violet would make sure it got done. She went into the kitchen, where Violet stood at the sink washing a cup and saucer.

  “Back so soon, dear?” Violet asked without turning around. “Did you do what you set out to do?”

  “Yes. I only had one short errand.” Sophie smiled. As if she could fool Violet. “Something’s come up at home, something involving one of my cases, and I’m going to have to leave this morning. I left a note for Jesse on his desk. I don’t want to wait for him since I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  “Did you try calling him?”

  “I don’t want to disturb him if he’s with a client.”

  “Oh, good point.” Violet dried her hands on a bright blue towel as she turned to Sophie.

  “I’m just going to run back to the house and grab my things so I can get on the road.” Sophie rested a hand on the back of a chair, stalling while she tried to figure out the best way to approach the one thing she needed to say.

  “I’ll tell Jesse you waited for as long as you could.”

  “Thanks, Violet.”

  “You’re welcome.” Violet started toward the door, and when Sophie didn’t immediately move out of the doorway, she asked, “Was there something else, dear?”

  “I was just wondering … well, about your friend. The woman who owns that property out on River Road?”

  “Enid Walsh.”

  “Yes, Enid Walsh. I was wondering if maybe she’d mentioned anything about selling the place anytime soon.”

  “What a coincidence! We had a discussion about that very thing just last night. I remembered that in her younger days, Enid loved to play bingo. Last night was bingo night at the grange hall, so I thought perhaps she’d like a night out. Of course she was delighted to go, and she seemed to enjoy herself. Won fifty dollars, too, so all in all, it was a very good night for her.”

  “That was nice of you to take her.”

  “One does what one can for one’s fellow travelers in life, dear.” Violet sighed. “Anyway, we did get talking on the way home about how she got to thinking about our conversation and how she’s come to the conclusion that she needs assistance to safely stay in her house or she’ll wind up in some sort of group home—a nursing home, that is—where she can be cared for. Now, Enid abhors that very idea—she’s pretty much a loner, don’t you know, never was one to socialize much, never married nor did she want to. When she worked at the restaurant, she stayed mostly in the kitchen, let her mother deal with the public. Went to church, and other than the occasional bingo game, she stayed pretty close to home. So the thought of having to sell her home to be able to afford to go someplace she doesn’t want to be, well, that doesn’t make sense. I said …”

  Oh, please … get to the point. Is she going to sell it?

  Violet bustled past Sophie when she heard the phone ring on her desk. Sophie stepped out of the way and followed in the older woman’s wake, then forced herself not to tap her foot impatiently while Violet took the call.

  “Let me just make a note for your brother,” Violet said after she hung up. “There. Now, where was I …?”

  “You were talking to Enid Walsh.”

  “Yes, yes. She said she’d been thinking about what I’d suggested, about it making more sense to sell the restaurant and use the money to stay in her family home. She could hire someone to live in with her so she’s not alone all the time, and she …”

  “Do you think she’ll do that? Sell the restaurant, I mean.” Sophie’s impatience got the best of her. She had to cut to the chase.

  “I believe she is seriously considering it, yes.”

  “Do you think she’ll let you know when she makes that decision?”

  “I told her I could help her to find someone to appraise the property so she could ask a fair price for it. She said she’d call me when she’s made a decision.” Violet tapped a pen on her desktop. “She does need to get as much as she can for it, you know. If she can’t make enough from the sale to enable her to stay in her home, there’s no point in selling it, as far as she’s concerned. She will need to get fair market value for it.”

  “Of course.” Sophie wondered what the fair market price would be. “Could you … um, when she has a price, when she makes up her mind, do you think you could let me know? I mean, before she officially puts it up for sale?”

  “You’ll know when I know.” Violet paused. “You seem to have quite an interest in the place.”

  “Oh, it’s always been a dream of mine to own my own little café. I guess everyone has their little dreams, right?”

  “Does Jesse know of your interest?”

  “He knows, but he doesn’t think much of it,” she admitted. “So if you could maybe not mention this conversation to him.” She added pointedly, “Or to anyone …”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “Thanks, Violet.” Sophie gave the woman a quick hug. “I’ll be back for the we
dding, so I’ll see you soon. In the meantime, if anything …”

  “Of course, dear. I promise I’ll call you.”

  Violet watched from the front window as Sophie drove away from the curb, then sighed deeply. She hated keeping things from Curtis—they’d been friends for seventy years, and his wife had been her dearest friend. These days, they’d say BFFs—best friends forever, and she and Rose Enright had certainly been that. So to keep something important from Curtis, something that he’d probably like to know—something he probably should know—just felt wrong.

  On the other hand, she’d promised Sophie that she wouldn’t say a word. Oh, of course, the idea was that she not mention anything to Jesse, but Violet felt pretty sure that Sophie’s “or anyone” was a direct reference to her grandfather.

  Violet had known, of course, where Sophie had gone earlier that morning. She’d taken the mail into Jesse’s office and had started to place it in the center of his desk where she always did—lest he later claim to not have seen something—and seen the note Sophie had left there. Violet hadn’t meant to pry, but she knew every piece of paper on Jesse’s desk and hadn’t recognized that one, so she had to investigate, didn’t she? Her heart had skipped a beat when she read it—Curtis and Jesse would both be over the moon when they found out that Sophie was planning on moving to St. Dennis and would be joining the firm after all—but she’d also noticed that the key to Walsh’s restaurant was no longer on the desk. She’d deliberately positioned that string to hang off the side of the pile that Jesse had left there the day before, lest the key be misplaced. If she’d had time to search for the Walsh file, she’d have returned the key herself. God only knew where he’d put it—it wasn’t in the drawer where it belonged.

  Of course, with his sister joining the firm, Violet suspected that Jesse would have more time to deal with those little details he so often overlooked these days. Then again, there was always the possibility that Jesse Enright was just not as detail-oriented as some.