He looked up from his figures. “The money from the table alone adds up to three point five million.”
I dropped the cash I’d picked up and stared at him as if he’d just plunged his bare hands into a trash container. “What?”
“We need to recount it, but it’s pretty close,” Roberta said, winking at me.
I plunked down onto the floor in the middle of a pile of cash.
“Thelma? Did you have any idea?”
She looked befuddled. “I…I didn’t realize it was so much.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Well. Here’s what I want to do. No matter how much it adds up to.”
Quinn looked up from his notepad. I stared up from the floor. And Roberta sat quiet and composed. “Go ahead, Thelma. We’re listening.”
“I want to split it three ways. One third for me. One third for Roberta. And one third for you and Quinn, honey.” She smiled at me through tears.
I did a quick calculation and figured the total she’d stashed away would probably add up to close to seven million. Over two million dollars for us? That would take care of a new van, fix the roof, buy Quinn a new boat, and keep us in Riesling for many years. “Mom?”
She looked at me with eyebrows raised. I hadn’t called her that in years. “It’s okay, honey. I don’t need it. And I know Raoul would have wanted his daughter and his sister to share in the proceeds.”
Quinn stammered but couldn’t get any words out. He’d turned a pale shade of green.
I got up and threw my arms around my mother, then Roberta, then Quinn.
After the shock wore off, I started to pick up the cash on the floor. “Come on. Let’s get this done. And then I think a celebration is in order.”
Chapter 53
We sat by the campfire, nodding into the flames with heavy lids. The sun had set behind us a half hour ago, dodging tumultuous black clouds that had alternately blocked and revealed its rays all afternoon. Thunder boomed in the background, and a few flashes of lightning flickered south near the hills of the Hunt Hollow ski resort, lighting up the mountain in brief flashes. The fine hairs on my arms waved in an ozone field, and the air smelled sharply of electricity.
Roberta sat beside the campfire, perched sideways on a boulder. She poked at the fire with a long stick and stared with peace-filled eyes into the crackling logs. Even her profile looked like my father. My heart wrenched, then filled with joy. Roberta’s quiet ways would help us deal with his loss.
Mimi lay at her feet, her eyes following Ruby, who hopped from my shoulder to Quinn’s and back every five seconds, and who wouldn’t stop chattering in my ear about cookies. I’d given her three crackers already, but as always, she was never satisfied.
Thelma sprawled on her lounge chair with a red chenille throw pulled up to her chin. Her harem-style pink slippers peeked out from the bottom. Her eyes drooped, and every once in a while she snorted with a start and laughed as if someone had said something funny. We hadn’t spoken in twenty minutes.
In the quiet of the night, we soaked in the heat of the blaze and let the calm lake water infuse us with its massive surging beauty. Streaks of pale blue and lavender crayoned the sky above the eastern shore. Occasional small waves nudged the stone beach with frothy bubbles, minutes after speedboats cruised by in the distance.
A breeze kicked up, and I wrapped my sweatshirt tighter around me. The flashes grew louder, and Ruby broke the silence. “You da man!”
Quinn grinned, rubbing her feathers with two fingers. She walked sideways across his shoulder, and pecked at his hair that lay in two neat braids over his broad shoulders.
Mimi sat up, watching her intently. With each sideways bird step, the dog’s eyes followed and her muscles tensed. Lavender fur rippled in anticipation over her strong back and shoulders. Roberta chuckled and put a hand on the dog’s head. “Settle down there, little lady. You behave yourself, or I’m tying you back to the railing.”
Ruby cocked her head and flapped her wings, as if to taunt the Weimaraner, who stiffened and uttered a playful growl, quickly followed by the flapping of her tail on the shale shore.
Thunder boomed, closer now, and the breeze stirred the fire into airborne sparks that sluiced overhead in a fiery spiral toward Heaven.
I eyed the southern sky a little nervously. “We’ll have to go in soon.”
Thelma got up, shook out her blanket, and brushed the remains of s’mores from her lap. “That’s it for me. I’m going to bed. See you all in the morning.”
“Night, Thelma.” I stood and hugged her. “Sleep tight.”
Roberta stood and stretched, watching the darkening sky. “It’s coming fast. Think I’ll join you, Thelma.”
They walked inside, arm in arm. Mimi didn’t follow. Roberta turned at the door and whistled. “Come on, Mimi. Here, girl.”
The dog didn’t budge. Roberta flapped one hand and smiled. “Can she stay out with you? She seems to be entranced.”
I patted the dog’s silky head. “Sure.”
They went inside and disappeared from view. I heard them laugh, and in a few minutes the bedroom lights flickered on upstairs.
A clap of thunder sounded directly overhead, startling Ruby. Quinn held out a finger for her to perch on, and tried to calm her. She couldn’t fly because of her clipped wings, but she jumped when the next boom hit and glided to the ground by the water.
Quinn went after her. “Ruby!”
Lightning struck the towering aspen leaning over the lake five cabins down. The top of the tree spit sparks and illuminated the shoreline. The hairs on my arm stood straight up, vibrating in the electric air.
Ruby squawked with fear, and Mimi sprang toward her with a playful bark, splashing into the water with her nose to the ground and her heavy tail wagging her entire hindquarters. The bird backed nervously into a few inches of water. A bolt of lightning temporarily blinded us, now directly overhead. The wind picked up, actually howling now, and rain pelted us with cold persistence. Quinn and I exchanged terrified glances, but we both knew he wouldn’t come in until he’d corralled the bird.
I lunged for the dog, but was blinded when another bolt of lightning hit our dock, sizzling and zapping the lake where Ruby and Mimi performed their comedic act.
Suspended in a macabre moment, time froze as the dog and bird were hit with the ionic blast of power surging through the water. Mimi yelped. Ruby fluttered to the shore, and Quinn hollered. “We’ve gotta get inside!” He finally corralled the bird near the picnic table. She looked dazed and frazzled, but Quinn picked her up and put her under his sweatshirt. The rain fell in sheets now, soaking us. He raised his eyes to me in horror and ran beside me. “She smells like smoke!”
“Hurry.” I tugged Mimi toward the house.
We’d barely made it to the patio when a monstrous flash struck our cottonwood tree, this time making my hair stand out in a static ball. Quinn’s eyes widened, and he motioned to the door. “Move it!”
I sprinted across the patio steps with my fingers securely under Mimi’s collar, and reached the door. I swung it open and fell inside, with Quinn and Ruby close behind.
Mimi shivered and whined at my feet, pushing her big head against me for comfort. Sitting on the floor, dripping wet, I wrapped my arms around her and noticed a few singed whiskers and eyebrows. “You poor baby.” She lapped my hand and looked at me with sad eyes.
Sarafina shrieked from her cage in the corner, her wings flapping up and down while she bobbed her head and panicked.
“She’s freaking out,” Quinn said, hurrying to slide Ruby in with her mother. Both birds nuzzled each other, then Ruby’s wings spread and flapped a dozen times. Her head bobbed side to side, and she rattled her cage door.
Quinn bent over to help me up, but instead of releasing my hand he drew me toward him. He’d been shirtless all week, and his bronze skin had deepened in color. Tonight he wore cutoffs and his blue denim shirt—opened in the front, as usual. I placed both hands on his bare chest. His skin felt warm and w
et, and I could feel his heart hammering beneath his ribs. I played with the turquoise necklace I’d given him. Intricately beaded, it lay against his skin with thin rawhide strips.
“The rain’s gonna ruin this. We ought to hang it up to dry.”
He continued to stare at me, his clear eyes penetrating mine. “Uh huh.”
His hands pressed strong against the small of my back, inching me toward him until we stood as close as possible. Steam rose from our wet clothes and dripped onto my bare feet.
I pulled him toward the couch that faced the lake and reached up to untie his plaited hair. Glossy and thick, it came loose to his shoulders in wavy strands. I ran my fingers through its dark sheen, freeing it.
Quinn released my ponytail, letting my hair bounce down to my shoulders. “We’re soaked. We ought to get out of these clothes.” His eyes showed more than concern over our wet clothing. He smiled, which sent quivers of excitement through my chilled body.
“I know.” I smoothed his hair some more, wishing mine was as pretty as his.
“Stop playing with my hair and kiss me.” He slid out of his shirt, took my wrists in his strong hands, and planted them on his shoulders. “That’s better.”
I searched his turquoise eyes, wondering how in hell I’d ever earned the love of my beautiful Indian brave. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips against his. He responded with an urgency that made me intimately aware of his intentions.
Without warning, an otherworldly bark filled the air.
We parted and looked toward the birdcage. He shrugged and leaned forward to find my lips again.
Another distinctly doggish bark came from the back of the room.
Quinn sat back and twisted toward the birds. “What the hell. Was that Ruby?”
The little red bird jumped onto her swing and cocked her head. “Rowf!”
This time there was no mistake.
Mimi, who’d stayed close to us since she came inside, looked confused. I wondered if she was about to ask for cookies. Her woof came out more like a squeak.
Quinn and I glanced from bird to dog and back again.
He rose and walked toward the cage, staring at Ruby. “Oh no.”
I followed him, with Mimi close behind. “It can’t be.”
He looked at Mimi, then me. “Not again.”
A pitiful bark came from the cage. I took Quinn’s hand in mine. “Was it the lightning?”
He unlatched the cage. Ruby sidled over to his hand. I swear she licked it, but it could have been my imagination. “It won’t last, right?” He looked at me for assurance.
“I hope not. I don’t think Mimi will fit in that cage.”
Ruby cocked her head at me. Another bird-twerp came from Mimi. Ruby’s eyes followed the sound with the same glee that had filled the dog’s eyes earlier.
Quinn closed the cage and slid the night cover over it. With a good-humored shrug, he reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “Come on, babe. I’ve got plans for you.”
I shivered with anticipation and followed him toward the bedroom. We could deal with this craziness in the morning. After all, this psychic linking mumbo jumbo was for the birds. Wasn’t it?
With a laugh, I linked my arm through his. “Take me away, honey. I’m all yours.”
The End
Aaron Paul Lazar
Acknowledgements
My deepest gratitude goes out to Joan Miller, Peggy Adamson, Marcia Applegate, Sonya Bateman, Sheila Deeth, Anne K. Edwards, Dale Lazar, Nancy Luckhurst, Sonia Martinez, Bonnie Mason, Marilyn Meredith, Nancy Robinson, Martha Stanley, Marta Stephens and Robin Waldrop for their editing assistance.
Thanks to Jennifer Styskal, editor at Twilight Times Books, where this book was originally published. You have an incredibly sharp eye, and the book wouldn’t have been as nicely polished without your help.
The name Charlie Johns Store is used with permission. Thank you to Jonathan Lane, one of the owners of Charlie Johns Store, for the time he took to fact check the story, as well as for his helpful suggestions. And thanks for permission to use the store in this book.
The name Mountain Memories Gift Shop and Café is also used with permission from owner Donna Bureau. My wife Dale and I adored this quaint and unique shop, and are saddened that it no longer is in operation in Wells, NY.
Many thanks to Eugene and Anna Sorkin for their undying generosity with Tall Pines. Dale and I will love this place forever, and hope to get up there several times each year for as long as we are able.
As always, my deepest appreciation to Lida Quillen and Ardy Scott. Thank you for believing in me.
Essentially Yours: a Tall Pines Mystery, #2
Essentially Yours
Tall Pines Mysteries, #2
Aaron Paul Lazar
Dedication
This book is dedicated to cancer patients everywhere, especially those like John, in the epilogue, who currently suffer from leukemia. I pray that a permanent cure is forthcoming, and soon.
Chapter 1
Callie waved a yellow scarf from her pontoon boat and headed erratically toward my dock. The girl who’d been like a sister to me since I was thirteen had never mastered the art of steering. Matter of fact, she’d avoided getting her driver’s license for the past twenty years, and would probably never drive that old Buick her dotty mother left moldering in the garage.
Shocked to see her outside, I waved back, then swam to the dock and scrambled up the ladder to avoid getting crushed by her two-ton vessel. I grabbed my towel, blotted water from my face and hair, and wrapped it around my new bright pink one-piece suit. I’d been nervous to wear it—I thought it made my thighs look big. But now I’d been caught, and I couldn’t get that towel around me fast enough.
I watched the boat drift closer, shocked at my friend’s appearance. Her face twisted in despair. Her coal black hair hung limp on her shoulders, and her eyes puffed red. Instantly, my brain ran through the possibilities.
What got her out of the house?
Maybe somebody died.
Her sister? Not likely. She’d written off Willow years ago. They hardly spoke, even though they lived only two houses apart. And that woman was so nasty she’d probably live forever, preserved in her own acidic vapors.
Could it be her dog?
Beau had been sick a few months back. The Bernese Mountain Dog had been Callie’s constant companion for the past five years. But the life expectancy of the grand creatures was only eight or nine years. She’d been concerned for months, and Doc West, the vet who’d always been sweet on her, still paid her house calls for no extra charge. But when we’d spoken on the phone yesterday, she’d said Beau had recovered from his stomach problems and was doing fine.
Worried now, I grabbed the rope she tossed to me and secured it around a piling. The boat glided closer.
She looked horrible, as if someone had twisted her insides and squeezed all her pain up into her eyes.
Damn. Had someone hurt her again?
Some people were magnets for bad luck, and my dear friend seemed to attract trouble like mosquitoes to wet skin after the rain. Last year, her Honeoye Lake cottage had been broken into. The jerks had cleaned her out and beaten her senseless. She still bore the scar on her temple where the bastards had bashed her with her avant-garde pink flamingo centerpiece.
Yes. A pink flamingo. Not in her yard, on her coffee table. Draped with pink pearls and fake ivy. Don’t ask. And don’t look so surprised. My best friend cut a tragic figure, was pretty in a haunted sort of way, but I never said she had good taste. Of all the households in our quiet lakeside community here in upstate New York, her place was definitely the quirkiest.
Callie switched off the ignition, and the boat miraculously nudged the dock with a soft thump. I quickly secured the stern and offered her a hand. “Honey, what’s the matter?”
With a sob that sounded more like a hiccup, she heaved a big box over the railing and onto the dock, and climbed out after it. “You won’t believ
e this.”
I put my arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Try me, Velvet.” Callie’s dark hair, delicate features, and big violet eyes used to remind me of the young Liz Taylor in National Velvet, thus the nickname.
She choked and wept fresh tears. Trembling, she glanced fearfully around her, then locked eyes with me. “Marcie, I…” With another sob, she fell on my shoulder. “Can we go inside, please?”
“Of course, sweetie.” I picked up the box and led her off the dock and up to the porch. Maneuvering backwards through the screen door, I got us inside and laid the box on the coffee table, then sat her on the couch. “Now. Spill it.”
Instead of talking, she fell into a fresh gale of weeping. I patted her shoulders, hugged her, and let her get it all out. She tried to speak, but the intensity of her emotions made her stutter and wail some more.
Her newest disaster—whatever it was—already weighed heavily on me. The pain in her eyes was palpable, and I knew it was something huge without having to ask. Callie and I had shared high school crushes, teenage angst, kooky hairstyles, and unrequited love over the years. She’d been my maid of honor, in spite of her aversion to public places. A little extra Xanax had helped her through the ordeal where people actually looked at her and she had to converse with strangers. I’d thanked her from the bottom of my heart for that. I couldn’t have been married without Callie at my side.
“Callie? What’s wrong, sweetie?”
She looked at me, at the box, back at me, and burst into a fresh torrent of tears.
I gave her a box of pink tissues, and she grabbed a handful, pressing them against her eyes. She leaned over, hands to face, and rocked back and forth.
My dear little Velvet rarely stepped outside and had all her goods mailed or hand-delivered to her door. She’d been like this since freshman year in college. Although I still didn’t know all the awful details about the event that had messed her up so much, she’d dropped out of school and become a permanent cave dweller. I knew it had to do with two men in a black Mustang, hours of brutal rape, and the subsequent abortion her mother had forced her to have a few months later. Mrs. Lissoneau had kept her locked up like a prisoner for four long months. I’d missed her dreadfully. When I finally was allowed back in her house, she’d cried on my shoulder for days. But she’d never been able to get up the courage to talk about it.
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