by Roslyn Woods
Dean held the door open as she passed, carrying the chocolate loaf through the living room and into the kitchen. She set it on the counter and turned to find Dean following her, still frowning.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Margie made us a chocolate zucchini loaf,” she answered.
“That’s nice. What’s going on, Shell?”
“Would you just hold me for a minute?”
“You know I’ll do that,” he said, drawing her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head before he asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m feeling a little better. I just dread talking to you about this, and yet I dread not talking to you about it, too.”
“About what?” he asked, his arms tightening around her slightly. “You’re kinda making me nervous here.”
“Oh, it’s not so terrible. It’s just annoying, and it’s hard to talk about,” she answered, looking up at him. She could feel his heart beating somewhere behind his ribs, quickening with nerves in spite of her assurance.
“What don’t I know about?” he asked.
“Nothing. At least, it’s nothing to do with me.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s sort of about Vincent Bishop,” she began, and she told Dean about her encounter at Mary Anne’s bakery. Just as she reached the part about Vincent saying he was attracted to her, Dean interrupted.
“What did you say?” Dean asked, drawing back and looking into her eyes, his jaw clenching.
“I said I wasn’t interested, I was engaged, and I wouldn’t be interested anyway.”
“And?”
“And he said he could be discreet! Like I—”
“I oughta knock his teeth out,” Dean said. “Really, I oughta—”
“He wouldn’t be worth the trouble! The part that was worse—”
“What’s worse than that? Did he touch you?” he asked, anger evident in his eyes.
“No. I told him to leave and he said he was sorry and left. But I remembered that last Friday I’d seen him walking on the street south of the gallery when I got back from meeting Tavy. I wasn’t really sure it was him, but Billie and Leo said nothing about it when I got there and I forgot to ask about it, we were so busy with getting ready for Evelyn’s opening. Anyway, it had been him. He’d come by the gallery asking to speak to me, and Billie chose not to tell me.”
“Well, it wasn’t that significant,” Dean said.
“Right, except Billie knew I was trying to help Tavy and this guy was her stepbrother. I think Vincent Bishop may still have been trying to determine what Edwin’s business was with us the night he died. Billie should have told me for that reason alone.”
“So what was the worst part? Why is this story sort of about Vincent Bishop?”
“I went back to the gallery after lunch and asked Billie and Leo about Vincent Bishop, and Leo kind of forced Billie to tell me that flowers had arrived the day after he came into the gallery and asked about his stepfather. He sent me flowers two days after Edwin died, and Billie just threw them away and didn’t tell me because he knew I’d tell you, and he was afraid I couldn’t handle it if you were upset about a man making a pass at me. He figured we might have trouble over it, and he didn’t think I should know about it.”
Dean didn’t say anything, just stood in front of her staring. Finally, he asked, “And what did you say to Billie?”
“I said he couldn’t help us with our relationship and to treat me like he did before the kidnapping. Then I left.”
“So you’re mad at Billie?”
“Yes. Not as much as I was, but yes. I feel disrespected, and our relationship is none of his—”
“The trash was probably a good place for those flowers,” he said with a slight smile, drawing her back into his arms. “I’m sorry Billie underestimated you and thought we might fight. We’re not going to fight, are we?”
“I hope not.”
“Of course we won’t, but I’d really like to have a word with Vincent Bishop. Actually, I’d like to break his nose.”
“Why bother?”
“Because he might think he can keep on pestering you without repercussions. I’d like him to know your fiancé would intervene if he tried something.”
“You don’t think I managed him pretty well on my own? I think what I said was fairly withering!”
“You should call Billie and tell him you’re not mad. He’ll be worried.”
“I know. You’re not mad at him?”
“No. He was trying to protect you, Shell. I wish he knew me better, but he hasn’t had a lot to go on.”
She felt relieved, suddenly. Maybe things were getting better between them.
“And I have some good news for you,” Dean added.
“You do?”
“I did some research and got into Edwin Bishop’s art school.”
“Wonderful! What did you learn?”
“I’m into the archives, but I haven’t narrowed down the years you need yet. Give me another day and I’ll have it for you.”
“That’s great.”
“And I heard from Bill Johnson in Silicon Valley. Dell’s got some competition for my program. Apple. They want to talk to me. I think they’ll make me an offer, and I’m in a position to watch these two giants have a bidding war. Anyway, I’m going to have to take a quick trip to California to show them the ins and outs of the program.”
“That’s wonderful! But when? When will you go?”
“This Thursday. I’ll leave in the morning and be back Saturday evening.”
“I’m glad you won’t be gone long.”
“I can’t stand to be gone long, Shell.”
Chapter 50
Wednesday, August 12, 10 a.m.—Tavy
Maddie was knocking on Tavy’s backdoor the next morning, and Blue was jumping happily against it when Tavy entered the sunroom.
“Hello, Madison!” she said as she opened the door and the dog jumped and barked with excitement. “I didn’t expect a visit from you!”
“I just wanted to come over,” she answered as she bent down to hug Blue, “and Dad says I should say thanks for you taking care of me the other night.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“He thinks you did,” she said. Then, standing up again, she added, “I think so, too. I didn’t tell him about the shirt. It’s in my bag. I’ll give it to you later.”
“That’s fine. How did it go with your mom?”
“It went shitty, but I was okay. Mom took me home and left me alone till she and Manfred got home at three in the morning! She made Manfred drive me home to Dad yesterday.”
“Were you scared? Being all alone, I mean?”
“It happens a lot. It’s better than listening to them fight.”
Tavy didn’t say anything for a moment. Apparently there was trouble in paradise. It might explain Rhoda’s jealousy. Maybe she was thinking she would patch things up with Gus if Manfred didn’t learn to dance to her tune.
“Does your dad know?”
“That I was alone? No. And don’t tell him. He hates her enough.”
Tavy resisted a natural urge to shake her head in disbelief. How could Rhoda abandon her daughter till three in the morning? And poor Maddie had been heartbroken about her best friend and her first boyfriend that night! Tavy hoped her surprise and dismay wasn’t evident on her face.
She changed the subject. “I bet you’re missing Blue!”
“Yeah,” Maddie answered, rubbing the dog’s soft head.
“Come in out of the heat!”
Maddie stepped into the sunroom. “Wow! Did you paint that?”
She was looking at the easel and the watercolor Tavy had begun in shades of green and blue over a pencil drawing.
“I thought I’d try painting the grape trellis.”
“The colors are cool! You’re a lot like Ed. You know that, right?”
“No. I don’t really remember him, Maddie.”
“I c
an talk about him all day! What do you want to know?” the girl asked while following Tavy through the kitchen and into the living room.
“Let’s sit in here,” Tavy said, ignoring her question. “Can I get you some iced tea or lemonade?”
“Lemonade, please!” Maddie answered without hesitating, seating herself on the couch and leaning forward to hug Blue’s neck.
“I’ll be back quick,” Tavy answered, heading back toward the kitchen but stopping to say something. “By the way, I think Blue should go home today. I love having her, but she misses you.”
“I think she should stay. Besides, Dad says she likes you.”
“I like her, too, but she misses you and your dad, and it’s only right she gets to be with you when you’re home.”
“Okay. I’ll think about that.”
“No thinking necessary! She’s going home.”
“Dad told me, Tavy,” Maddie said seriously. “About the poison and the gas. You need her.”
“Oh,” Tavy answered. “I’m so sorry, Maddie. I know you loved my father.”
“Yeah. I cried cuz I was so mad that someone would hurt him! But I had to buck up for Dad. When I cry it makes him cry. That’s what Ed used to tell me when I was crying about having to go back with Mom. He’d say, ‘You’re strong. You can buck up. Things will get better. Some kids don’t have a dad to love them, and you’ll be back with him next week.’ And it helped. I’d think about how I could have two crazy parents and how I needed to be strong for Dad. So now I have to buck up because I might never have had Ed. Plus now he’s brought you to us. So that’s another reason to be strong, isn’t it?”
“I’m glad he brought me here, too,” Tavy said, turning quickly to hide the tears that were welling in her eyes.
She walked into the kitchen, got glasses from the cabinet, and was pouring lemonade into an ice-filled glass when she heard Maddie calling, “What’s this? Did you find one of our guessing games?”
“What?” Tavy asked, returning to the room, a glass of lemonade in each hand.
“Our guessing game! Ed and I used to play guessing games all the time. This is a pretty easy one because I’ve seen the pattern before.”
She was holding up the slip of yellow paper that Tavy had left on the end table—the paper that had fallen from the leaves of the little phone book.
“The best day of all and a favorite thing. Fifteen characters,” the girl read. “We did one almost like this one once.”
“I’m not following,” Tavy said.
“Ed and I. We used to make up puzzles and make the other one guess them. He gave me one that was a lot like this one. It wasn’t very long ago. It was ‘a very good day and a favorite treat.’”
“And what was the answer?” Tavy asked.
“A very good day was my birthday. A favorite treat was gingersnaps!”
“So how did it work out?”
“It worked out as zero, three, twelve, two, zero, zero, three, and the word gingersnaps.”
“Did the clue include how many characters would be in the answer?” Tavy asked.
“Yep. Nineteen characters. I remember it because it was such a good one.”
“So how would you decipher this puzzle?”
“It’s pretty easy, but he never did this exact one with me.”
“How is it easy?”
“The best day of all? That’s a cinch! The day you were born!”
“No!”
“Sure! He told me that if my dad was making the puzzle he’d say ‘the best day of all.’ That’s because he thought a daughter’s birthday is the best day in a father’s life. So that means, Ed would say that about his daughter, don’t you think?”
“I—maybe.” Tavy didn’t want to argue with Maddie. It was wonderful that she was so secure about her father’s affection.
“And a favorite thing would be your favorite thing,” Maddie continued.
“And what is my favorite thing?”
“You know!”
“I don’t!”
“I even know.”
“Okay. Tell me.”
“That’s too easy. You know,” Maddie said, smiling. Then she added, “Could I have something to eat? I’m starving for something sweet.”
“Uh—Why don’t we make some cookies? It wouldn’t take long.”
“Okay. I’m pretty good in the kitchen. I can make a cake. Not a real cake, but a cake from a mix. Dad can’t tell it’s not a real cake, and Ed acted like those cakes I made were the best.”
“I bet they were great! It doesn’t mean it’s not real if it’s from a mix.”
“I’ve tasted real cake. Florencia makes ’em. Those are better. Do you make real cookies?”
“Sure. It’s not any harder than a mix. Just a few more steps.”
“Okay!” Maddie said, following Tavy into the kitchen.
So Tavy and Maddie preheated the oven, remembering to light it with the little torch while Blue looked on.
It was surprising how natural it seemed to assemble the ingredients to make ginger and molasses cookies with Maddie. Tavy visited with her about her upbringing in Portland with Mia and Tio, and Maddie popped her head in and out of cupboards while she listened and asked questions about Tavy’s past. The mixing bowls and measuring spoons were gathered as Tavy explained about her parents’ divorce when she was a toddler. Measuring cups and cookie sheets were placed on the counter by the sink, and butter was melted in the microwave while Maddie answered Tavy’s questions about Mario. He was going to start high school on Monday, and Brenda was grief-stricken because he had told her he was moving on. Middle school girls were too young for him.
“What about you?” Tavy asked. “Are you still upset?”
“I’m happy Brenda’s been dumped.”
“I think I told you it happens to everyone sooner or later.”
“It happened to you and Dad.”
“Yes,” Tavy answered thoughtfully. “You’re talking to Brenda now?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re friends again?”
“Kinda.”
In a few minutes the sugar and butter had been mixed with the eggs, and Maddie was measuring the flour.
“It might be hard stirring this in,” she suggested.
“You want me to help?” Tavy asked.
“No. I think I can do it.”
“If I stay here, I’ll get a Kitchenaid mixer. I can’t imagine doing much baking without one.”
“Mom has one, but she never uses it. I think somebody gave it to her when she married Manfred. She won’t let me touch it. I think she’s afraid I’ll mess it up.”
“You wouldn’t. They’re industrial strength!”
“She’ll never change her mind.”
“I’ll get one. You can use mine whenever you want. I can teach you how to make bread, real cakes, brownies—”
“If you stay.”
“If I stay,” she repeated, a wistfulness creeping into her voice. She had no idea what she was going to do. Somehow, in spite of everything, she had grown attached to being in Austin. Almost from the moment she had walked into the house on Oaktree Hill she had felt a sense of home, and she felt as if she had known Gus and Maddie and Blue for a very long time.
“Tell me about the cookies,” Maddie said.
“They’ll be softer than gingersnaps,” Tavy answered, “but you’ll love them. This is Mia’s recipe, and they’re really good.”
“I want to eat the dough.”
“But you won’t want to eat the raw eggs,” Tavy warned.
“Oh. Okay.”
“You can take these home when they’re done,” Tavy added as she and Maddie smashed round cookie-balls with the bottom of a glass that had been coated with sugar. “If you leave them here I won’t be able to leave them alone!”
Just then there was a knock at the backdoor.
“That’ll be Dad!” Maddie said.
“I’ll get it.”
“He’s thinking I’m botheri
ng you for too long. Don’t let him make me go home!”
“I’ll do what I can,” Tavy assured her as she headed for the sunroom.
He was standing at the door in t-shirt and jeans, broad-shouldered and sun-tanned, a serious expression in his deep blue eyes.
“Hello,” she said as she opened the door.
“Is my daughter pestering you?” he asked.
“No. She’s entertaining me with her wit and charm,” Tavy said.
“Oh, somehow that sounds like sarcasm.”
“It’s not at all! We’re making cookies.”
“Hi, Dad!” Maddie called from the kitchen. “You’re gonna love these!”
“Are you sure?” he whispered to Tavy. “Are you sure she isn’t bothering you?”
“I’m positive. Let her stay!”
“If it’s okay with you.”
“I can hear you whispering about me in there like I’m a leper!” Maddie called. “Tell him you don’t mind me staying, Tavy!”
“I already have!” she called back.
“Actually,” Gus said, as he followed Tavy into the kitchen, “I was going to ask you if you’d like to have a steak with Maddie and me tonight. It’s the only thing I know how to make.”
“Not true!” Maddie said. “He can also grill burgers, chicken, fish, and those big mushrooms.”
“Portobellos?” Tavy asked, looking up at Gus.
“Exactly. In case you’re vegetarian.”
“I’m not.”
“And I can make my famous garlic bread!” Maddie said.
“So you’ll come?” Gus asked.
“Please, please, please come!” Maddie begged. “It’s so boring at our house!”
“If you allow me to bring something? Salad and potatoes?”
“Salad sounds great, but I can grill some corn for a starch,” Gus said.
“And I’ll supply the cookies,” Maddie said.
“I think Tavy should be getting some credit for those,” Gus argued.
“Actually, Maddie’s done it all,” Tavy countered.
“But it’s Mia’s recipe,” the girl told her father. “Mia is Tavy’s mom—the one she loves. Her parentage is complicated,” she added knowingly.
“I see,” Gus said. “So it’s settled then. You’re coming to dinner.”