On Thursday I drove with Kennette to class. I wasn’t much in the mood to talk, which wasn’t a problem since Kennette tended to go on and on about Oliver—what he might say, what we might learn, even what he might wear.
“Does Eleanor have competition in you?” I asked, only half joking.
Kennette blushed. “Do you think he’s called her since their date? She hasn’t said anything.”
I noticed she hadn’t answered my question, but she had raised an interesting, and embarrassing, point.
“It’s going to be awkward if he hasn’t,” I said, almost to myself.
“He must have,” Kennette said firmly. “He’s too good a person to hurt Eleanor.”
“He’d better be.” I felt like I had another mystery to uncover. What was going on with my grandmother and my teacher?
Once in class, I didn’t have to wait long. Oliver came over as I was setting up my easel and smiled.
“I’m so looking forward to dinner on Saturday,” he said. “I have a feeling your grandmother is a wonderful cook.”
“She is,” I stumbled. My surprise was obvious.
“You should ask your young man,” he said. “Eleanor told me that the two of you make a fascinating couple.”
“She used that word?”
He laughed. “Not exactly. She said she thought you would be good for each other if you got out of your own way.”
“That sounds more like her.”
Oliver smiled again then moved on to another student. I turned to Kennette, who had been pretending to arrange her pencils during the entire conversation.
“Dinner on Saturday. That’s cool, huh?” she said.
“Why wouldn’t she mention it, though? Do you think she doesn’t want us to know?” I asked.
“Should we be there?”
“I don’t want to be there. You, me, them. We would be sitting there while they giggled and stared at each other.”
“They won’t giggle. They’re in their seventies,” Kennette whispered.
“I don’t care what they do,” I told her. “I’m going nowhere near the house on Saturday.”
Kennette looked disappointed but smiled. “I could hang out at the shop. I’m only half finished piecing the top for my drunkard’s path.”
“I’ll help,” I offered. “Anything not to be at the house when Oliver arrives.”
I was emphatic with Kennette, but as class went on I started to lose my certainty. Once again Oliver spent just a little more time with Sandra than he did with anyone else in the class, and once again he praised her a little more than she deserved. Worst of all, once again as he walked to his office after class Sandra followed him.
If he really was getting involved with Eleanor, he had better be worthy of her. And as he let Sandra into his office and closed the door behind him, I felt more and more sure that he wasn’t.
“I have to do something,” I said to Kennette. “Can you wait for me to drive to the shop?”
“What do you have to do?” Kennette had become like my little sister. Always tagging along, both a welcome friend and a tiresome pest.
“Nothing special. I just want to talk to Oliver.”
“You want to ask him about your work?” she said. “It’s really good, you know. Especially when you paint on fabric. You are freer on fabric than you are on canvas.”
I looked at her. “How do you do that?” I asked.
She blushed. “What?”
“I’ve been trying to figure out what’s wrong with my work and you nailed it. I’m trying too hard in class. When I paint on squares to make a quilt, I figure if I make a mistake, who cares? I’m learning.”
“Aren’t you taking this class to learn?”
“Yes but when I work on fabric I don’t have Oliver White standing there judging me.”
“I don’t think he’s judging you. I think he’s guiding you. He’s trying to make all of us better. Just like when Maggie helps me with a seam or Bernie suggests a color. They’re all so excited to have other people interested in the thing they love.”
“But they’re not Oliver White,” I insisted. Except, I wondered, who is Oliver White anyway?
And then his office door opened. I grabbed Kennette and pushed her against the wall around the corner.
“Shh,” I instructed. She nodded.
Sandra walked out first, with Oliver right behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her against him for a long time. It seemed as though she had been crying. She said something to him but I couldn’t hear it. His voice was louder, deeper, and slightly easier to hear.
I thought he said, “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”
Then he reached into his pocket and took something out. It looked like money. She took it and nodded. Then she walked down the hallway and he went back to his office.
“Give me a minute,” I whispered, leaving Kennette in the hallway.
“Oliver,” I stood in the doorway. Oliver was sitting at this desk just a few feet away, but it seemed as if he didn’t hear me. “Oliver,” I said again.
“Sorry. Yes, Nell.” He stood.
“Is everything okay?” I had no idea how he would react but I was going to say it anyway. “I saw Sandra leave your office in tears.”
“She does cry a lot,” he sighed. “Poor girl.”
“It’s just that she has so much attitude with everyone except you.”
Oliver’s face was a blank. I tried to read a little guilt or fear or something in his eyes, but there was nothing but a pleasant and empty smile. He reached into his pockets but came out empty-handed. Then he looked around his desk, confused.
“Missing something?”
“A pack of cigarettes. Not important.” He sat back and looked up at me. “Your grandmother is quite a woman. She seems to have overcome a lot and with such grace.”
“Yes,” I said. “She believes in doing the right thing. No matter how tough it is.”
“I imagine she’s instilled that in you.”
“She wouldn’t want to be around someone who wasn’t good and decent and responsible.”
I wondered if he heard my warning. He just smiled. Then he placed his hand on my back and walked with me out of the office, locking the door behind him.
Kennette had disappeared, so I walked down the hallway to find her. I was about to give up when she came walking out of the ladies’ restroom.
“Ready?” She smiled.
I nodded. “Give me a minute.”
I was surprised to see that my hands were shaking. What was it about Oliver that so unnerved me? It made me admire my grandmother more that she seemed able to hold her own with him. I walked into the ladies’ room to wash my face, but before I had a chance, I saw Sandra at the mirror.
“What do you want?” she shouted.
“It’s a bathroom. What do you think I want?” I snapped back. Oliver might intimidate me, but she didn’t.
I turned on the sink and washed my hands, but I kept my eyes on the mirror. Behind me Sandra was smoking a cigarette and staring at the ceiling, anger all over her face.
“Oliver is really getting to you,” I ventured.
“Meaning?”
“You always seem to be upset around him.”
She shifted her weight. “Screw you.”
Charming. I wasn’t going to be able to match her attitude so I went a different way. “I’m just saying that if Oliver is doing something he shouldn’t . . .”
“He’s not.”
“He’s doing something.”
She threw her cigarette in the sink. “Jealous?” She swept passed me and out the door.
It was a dramatic exit, to be sure. But as far as I was concerned the conversation wasn’t over. Next class, and every class, I was going to push them both until I found out what was going on.
“He’s paying her to be his lover,” I said on the drive to the shop.
“That makes no sense,” Kennette said. “He’s not like that.”
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“Okay, so she’s in trouble and he’s helping.”
“Much more likely.”
“What if she’s pregnant with his child?”
“Gross!” Kennette shouted. “He’s not going around getting some student in . . . that way.”
“Come up with a good reason why he keeps having these secret meetings with a student, then hugs her and gives her money.”
“He’s nice,” she sounded exasperated. “He’s just nice.”
“Well even if he is the nicest man on the planet, I am not leaving him alone with my grandmother. I’ll tell you that.”
“So we’re going to be there on Saturday?” Kennette smiled.
“You, me, and the chief of police.”
CHAPTER 14
If Eleanor was annoyed to have her romantic dinner for two turned into a family meal for five, she didn’t show it. She stayed home on Saturday to cook, which left the shop entirely to Kennette and myself.
And it was probably a good idea. About once an hour a member of the quilt club came in to get the scoop on the plans for the evening. I had no news to tell them, but at least we could talk openly on the subject. The night before, at our regular Friday meeting, we’d all stepped around it. Instead we spent the evening finishing Kennette’s quilt top and discussing the importance of an accurate seam allowance.
The only subterfuge was when we arranged for Carrie’s husband to call with a crisis at home, entirely false, so that she would leave early. Her shop was opening in a month, and we were planning a large group quilt for the blank side wall. As much as we were keeping it a secret, I was pretty sure Carrie knew. After all, she had me painting a mural on the back wall. She had cool mirrors and paintings ready for the area behind the counter. But one large wall was left blank, and Carrie was quiet about what she planned to put there. I assumed she was holding the space for her “surprise” quilt.
We had decided on something modern and abstract, and Susanne was putting together sketches for approval. She had said it might take her a week to get truly inspired, but she showed up Saturday afternoon with three beautifully realized ideas.
“These are gorgeous. I’d vote for any of them,” I said.
“Keep them with you and make sure everyone gets to look at them,” Susanne told me. “And take notes.”
“On the sketches?”
“On what happens tonight.”
I leaned in so Kennette, who was straightening fabric, would not hear. “I don’t think I trust him.”
“You don’t have a reason, do you?”
I did. At least I thought maybe I did. But I couldn’t say anything. If I mentioned Sandra to anyone without first telling Eleanor, I would be a bad friend to the one person who had been there for me when my life had fallen apart. So I shook my head.
“I guess I’m just annoyed that her love life is moving along more smoothly than mine,” I said.
“Maybe having dinner with Oliver will teach Jesse a thing or two about romance.” She smiled. “Besides, I hear we’re up for a big snow storm this evening, so maybe they’ll both have to spend the night. That will be cozy.”
I smiled but the thought made me a little sick.
Once dinner started, a hearty meal of my grandmother’s special meat loaf and mashed potatoes, romance seemed to be the last thing on anyone’s mind. Jesse and Oliver were good-naturedly arguing about English football, which, I found out, Jesse actually followed.
“Anytime you put two guys on a field with a ball, I’ll watch it,” Jesse admitted a little shyly.
“Good for you,” Oliver said. “Though you really should support Liverpool over Manchester United.”
“You’re nuts” was Jesse’s response as he stuffed more potatoes in his mouth.
On the other side of the dining room table, Eleanor, Kennette, and I were pretty much left out of the conversation, so we ended up discussing Carrie’s quilt. The separate conversations continued for more than ten minutes, until a beeping noise from Oliver’s jacket interrupted. He reached in for his phone, looked at it for a moment, and frowned.
“This text messaging is a bother,” he said, and he put the phone back in his jacket. “Doesn’t anyone want to have a conversation anymore?”
“Isn’t that what we’re having?” Kennette asked.
“Well, we’re actually having two conversations,” I corrected her. “You guys are talking sports, and we’re talking about abstract quilt designs.”
“We’re making a quilt for one of the club members who’s opening a coffee shop,” Eleanor explained.
“And it’s abstract in design?” Oliver’s interest was piqued. “What are your influences?”
“No one person, as far as I know. Susanne just drew several designs,” I said. “One is pretty much boxes of colors. It’s kind of a variation on a log cabin design. The second is appliquéd circles and semicircles on squares made up of strips, and the third is an Amish-style quilt with lines of bright fabrics alternating with background stripes of black.
“I like the second,” Kennette offered.
Oliver leaned toward her. “Why?”
I felt suddenly like we were in class, but Kennette was relaxed. “I don’t know,” she said without a hint of insecurity. “I just like it.”
Oliver smiled and leaned back. “You have a clarity of vision that one rarely sees in a new artist.”
Kennette beamed and Jesse winked at me. It was, I had to admit, a nice evening.
“Dessert anyone?” Eleanor jumped up. “I’ve made an apple pie.”
“Let me help,” offered Oliver. The two left the room for the kitchen and were gone for just a little longer than it would have taken to bring in the pie, plates, and a pot of tea. When they came back, they were both smiling. Watching the way Oliver shyly moved around Eleanor, I was a little jealous of their smooth romance. But not for long. I reached out and took Jesse’s hand.
“Well.” Kennette got up from the table. “I think it’s time my date and I went for a walk.” She patted Barney and he jumped up and headed for the door.
“What about dessert?” Eleanor asked.
“I won’t be long.”
“Take my wool coat.” Eleanor disappeared into the hallway and came back with a teal blue coat. “It’s very cold outside tonight. The wind is howling something fierce.”
Kennette was swallowed by the large, heavy coat as well as the scarf and hat Eleanor had brought for her, but she didn’t seem to mind. I think she enjoyed being the center of so much fussing. Once fully enclosed in the winter getup, she patted Barney’s head and he followed her out of the dining room.
“We’ll be right back,” she said.
“We’ll have hot tea waiting for you,” Eleanor called after her.
“And keep a cup hot for me.” Oliver grabbed his coat. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Nasty habit. I’d like to tell you I’m giving them up, but I’ve already given up too many delicious cravings. I’m keeping the ones I have left, no matter how ill-advised.”
He opened the back door and stepped outside.
“Stay on the back porch,” Eleanor said to him. “It’s protected from the wind and snow.”
“A smoker,” I chided Eleanor once Oliver was gone.
“A man’s allowed his vices,” she said. “Jesse, you look like you could use a piece of pie.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jesse gave me a look that said he’d noticed what I had. Eleanor was smitten.
Ten minutes later when he came back into the dining room, Oliver’s hands and face were wet.
“See, I told you it was cold outside,” Eleanor said as she gently touched his cheek. Oliver took her hand.
“I washed up a little to keep that nasty cigarette smell from ruining the scent of your pie.” He kissed her finger and she smiled at him, while Jesse and I pretended not to notice how happy they both seemed.
Oliver, Jesse, and I each had two slices of pie before Eleanor took the plates away. “Save s
ome for Kennette,” she scolded as she put the kettle on for a second time.
“Where is she?” Jesse asked. “It’s been at least half an hour.”
“Maybe we should go out and look,” I said.
“Barney’s with her,” Eleanor tried to reassure us, but she looked worried. “He has some sense, that dog.”
“If he had any sense he would have come in twenty minutes ago. It’s cold out there,” I reminded her.
“I’ll go.” Jesse got up.
“I’ll go with you.” I stood next to him.
He looked like he was about to protest, but then he nodded. “Oliver, you and Eleanor hold down the fort. If I can borrow a flashlight, that will help. Nell will take her cell with her, so call her if Kennette or Barney comes back.”
“What do you mean Kennette or Barney?” Eleanor asked. “They’ll be together.”
“Then why aren’t they back?” I asked.
“Barney just got interested in some squirrel, that’s all.” Eleanor took a deep breath and Oliver put his arm protectively around her.
Jesse and I wrapped up warmly and headed out. It was snowing, but for a while Jesse was able to find a set of human tracks and a set of dog tracks. Then, near the river, both sets disappeared.
Ice crystals were forming on my face, and the wind was making it hard for me to keep my eyes on Jesse. I was getting confused even though I knew the area, and Kennette had only been at the house for just over a week.
“Stay with me,” Jesse shouted. “Stay right next to me but look in the opposite direction.”
I nodded and stood with my back to him. I could see nothing but snow, and I could feel nothing but cold mixed with a growing sense of panic.
“What could have happened to them?” I asked Jesse.
“Barney probably ran after something and Kennette got lost looking for him.” Jesse sounded so sure. I leaned my head against his shoulder just for a moment of comfort. As I did, my phone rang.
“She’s back?” I asked before Eleanor had a chance to speak.
“No.” Eleanor’s voice sounded frantic. “Barney is back. He’s covered in ice and snow. And he’s soaking wet.”
“And he’s alone?”
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