by Mae Clair
Katie folded her hands on the tabletop, her back straight, gaze unflinching. “I help out where I’m needed. After several years, I was managing the café for Rosie, doing the ordering, menu planning, and scheduling. Later, she asked me to help in the office, and I made the transition. Toward the end, when she grew sick, I took on more responsibility.”
“She was sick?” Eve pounced on the idea. It had always been her impression the cancer came swiftly. “I thought everything happened quickly.”
Katie glanced down at her hands. “She knew long before she told anyone. At the time, I didn’t understand, but looking back, I can see her getting things in order. Your aunt never did anything without a purpose, Eve.”
She felt a twinge of envy. “You sound like you knew her well.”
“I did.” No hesitation. “Most people in this town didn’t want anything to do with me, but Rosie was different. She took a chance I’d amount to something.”
Eve shifted uncomfortably. She’d been one of those people who’d formed an opinion of Katie based upon what others said. Her aunt would have admonished her for such narrow-mindedness, her parents, too.
As if conscious of her uneasiness, Katie steered the conversation elsewhere. “I’m thankful she didn’t suffer. When the end came, it came quickly.”
Eve’s stomach did a small flip-flop. “I wish I’d been with her. I don’t understand why she didn’t tell anyone. I would have come back if I’d known she was sick.”
The waitress, a young girl Katie had introduced as Nancy, arrived with their sandwiches, and for a time, they said nothing. When the girl left, and Eve had salted her fries, she found she had little appetite. She was a fish out of water in a town she’d deserted. At least, it felt that way. The girl seated across from her knew more about her beloved aunt than she did. The legacy of her family, the hotel, and the house her aunt had left her, felt like the trappings of a stranger.
Katie took a bite of her cheeseburger, then set it back on her plate and dabbed her mouth with a folded napkin. “You can’t blame yourself.” Her voice was softer than before, a trace of sympathy in her eyes. “I think Rosie was determined to suffer alone.”
Eve glanced up, startled. “What does that mean?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said—”
“No, I want to know what you meant.” Something resonated in her heart, prickling the hair on her arms. She’d be the first person to admit her aunt had changed over the years, the carefree spirit she’d once known becoming reclusive and sad. That damn bridge. Why did it have to change everything? “Aunt Rosie was well liked.”
“She was.”
“Many people would have flocked to her aid.”
“If she’d allowed them.” Katie bit her lip, clearly indecisive. “Look, I have no right saying this. It’s just my opinion.”
Eve nodded, urging her on. “Please.” The walls she’d once felt for Katie Lynch crumbled. This woman plainly had a closer relationship with her aunt than she’d had over the last decade. Jealously lanced through her, but with it came the desire to set aside past prejudices. “If you know something—anything—I’d be grateful.”
Katie fiddled with her fork, adjusted her napkin over her lap, then nodded firmly as if reaching a decision. “I don’t pretend to know everything, but your aunt opened a door for me she closed on other people. These last several years, I probably knew her better than anyone in town.”
The jealousy resurfaced, sharper this time, but Eve remained silent.
“My mother and I aren’t close. We communicate, but that’s about the extent of it.” Katie raised her chin, a touch of defiance in her green gaze. “You know my sister took off before the bridge collapsed. Or, at least, that’s what everyone would have me believe. That she got tired of life in Point Pleasant and ran away.”
Eve offered a slight nod. The cruder gossip at the time had insinuated sixteen-year-old Wendy Lynch was knocked up and ran off to have an abortion. Everyone knew she slept around. The girl was fond of smoking, drinking, and drugs, with a weakness for boys and the backseats of their cars. “Easy” was what people had called her.
Katie pressed her lips together. “I’ve never believed it, but can’t disprove it.” She shrugged and shook her head, her ponytail bouncing behind her. “It doesn’t matter anyway. All I know is that between my mom’s reputation and Wendy’s, everyone had me pegged.”
Eve lowered her eyes, shamed by her own bias.
“If it hadn’t been for your aunt giving me a job when she did, I’d probably be collecting welfare right now. Maybe I needed a strong female influence, and maybe she needed a daughter.”
Or a niece, Eve thought guiltily.
“Whatever the reason, we connected, and I’m eternally grateful. She’s been there for me throughout the years. I was at her side as much as she’d allow.” A brief smile flickered over her lips. “Your aunt was closemouthed when she chose. She told me only what she wanted me to know.”
Eve sat back, her lunch forgotten. She felt a closeness to Katie she hadn’t expected. Had Aunt Rosie latched onto Katie because her own niece had left Point Pleasant? No, that was unfair. To Katie and to Aunt Rosie. Her aunt didn’t choose people because she settled for second best. She befriended them because she saw promise in them, and she was rarely wrong.
“When did she tell you she was sick?” Eve had to know.
“Not until she couldn’t hide it any longer. By then, it was just a matter of weeks.” She bit her lip and looked skyward as if fighting tears. “I tried to convince her to do chemo, but she said it was too late. That she’d refused treatment intentionally.”
“Why?” The idea was preposterous. How dare Aunt Rosie be so selfish! She should have realized she had people who loved her. Who’d abandoned her, packed up, and left Point Pleasant fifteen years ago. A sharp stab of guilt pierced her heart.
“Eve, I’m sorry. She…” Katie looked stricken. Taking a deep breath, she plowed ahead. “She said she deserved it. That the cancer was payment for something she’d done a long time ago.”
“What?” Anger and outrage streaked through her. Her aunt never could have done anything to warrant such an unjust sentence. No, it simply didn’t make sense. Katie was making things up. Baiting her, fearful she planned to sell the hotel and put her out of a job. The awful wretch was playing on her sympathy, trying to make her feel guilty.
“I don’t believe you,” she snapped.
Katie’s gaze was level. “I didn’t expect you to. But I was the one who sat by her bed when she was dying.”
Eve drew back in shock. “You were with her?” Her heart fluttered and rolled over like a tumbleweed. When she spoke, her voice was small, a splinter of its normal volume. “At the end?”
Katie nodded. “They gave her morphine to manage the pain. She was in and out of sleep. Drifting, hallucinating, saying things that made no sense. She kept repeating how sorry she was for what she’d done, and how she prayed God would forgive her.” Her brows knit in a puzzled frown. “Something about gray vines.”
“Gray vines?”
Katie nodded. “That’s what it sounded like. I tried to ask her what it meant, but she was delirious, too far gone. Eventually, she slipped into a deep sleep and never recovered. If it’s any consolation, the doctor said she didn’t suffer.”
Eve exhaled, only then realizing she’d been holding her breath. All of her frustrations and doubts aside, a single truth weighed heavily on her heart. “Thank you for being with her. It means a lot to know she wasn’t alone.”
Their conversation veered into safer topics after that. What more could be said? Her aunt had elected to keep her cancer to herself until the last possible minute, had refused treatment, and then announced she deserved to die. Unsettled by the thought, Eve tried to imagine what would make her aunt surrender without a fight.
True, Aunt Rosie had never married and had chosen to live alone, but she’d once had an opportunity
for happiness she’d allowed to fall by the wayside. Her behavior then hadn’t made any more sense than it did now. Engaged to be married, she’d called off her wedding after the Silver Bridge collapsed, saying she’d been too devastated by the tragedy to consider her own happiness.
Eve’s memory of that time was spotty at best—her father dead, her best friend missing and presumed drowned, the town in a state of shock and grief—but she recalled Aunt Rosie’s intended groom, Roger Layton, begging her to reconsider. Maybe events would have unfolded differently if Aunt Rosie had proceeded with her wedding. No doubt she would she have gotten help when she needed it, embracing the treatments that would save her.
It all came back to the bridge and the catastrophe that devastated Point Pleasant. The town had been broken, and although it had gallantly pieced together its tattered community spirit, the golden heydays of the past would never be seen again.
Nor would Aunt Rosie.
Somehow, Eve managed to choke down most of her lunch, but it settled like lead in her stomach. When the meal was through, she and Katie parted company, she with a kinder impression of the other girl. She hoped Katie felt the same.
Returning to her office, she immersed herself in files and ledger books, learning everything she could about the hotel’s past and present operations. Many of the records and saved correspondence dated back to the time of her parents and grandparents. The sight of the old documents made her feel like she’d awakened slumbering ghosts. One folder in particular drew her attention. Dated by month, it was marked December 1967.
The month the Silver Bridge fell.
She transferred it to the desk and sat staring at it for some time. If she looked inside, would she find anything to indicate life had come to a screeching halt in Point Pleasant? That her world had imploded, leaving her at the mercy of an uncertain and disjointed future?
It made no sense to look at past reports when she should be concentrating on the present state of the hotel in order to determine its future. And hers.
Still, she couldn’t ignore the folder. Setting it aside, she placed it with her purse, intending to study it when she had more time. She’d take it home and look through it tonight, something to keep her occupied through the long evening hours. She needed a break from sorting through the mess left by the vandals.
The remainder of the afternoon passed quickly, and shortly after three o’clock, she was drawn to the lobby by the sound of laughter. Katie stepped from behind the reception counter as a young boy with curly brown hair burst through the door and rushed to hug her.
“Hi, Mom.” He grinned as he looked at his mother. “No homework tonight. Can we walk along the river and then watch Happy Days?”
“After dinner.” Katie caught sight of Eve at the same time the boy did. “Sam, say hello to Ms. Parrish.”
He had pine green eyes like his mother and an infectious grin that immediately warmed Eve’s heart. “Are you Mom’s new boss?”
She flushed. “I—”
“I told him you were coming,” Katie explained, “and that he had to behave if he wanted to hang out in the lobby until I’m done with work.”
“I do homework if I have it,” Sam volunteered. “When I’m done, I read or do puzzles.” He displayed a Batman comic as proof. “No homework tonight ’cause school’s almost out. Just a few more days, and I’ve got the whole summer.”
“I remember how that felt.” Summer was fun and freedom. Swimming in the river on hot afternoons, eating sun-sweetened watermelon and downing cold lemonade on the grassy banks. In the evenings, she, Sarah, and Maggie chased fireflies and told ghost stories, watching as bats launched from the trees behind Aunt Rosie’s house. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam. You can call me Eve.”
“Mom says I should call you Ms. Parrish.”
“Oh. Well, you should do what your mom says.” It felt odd to be the boss and the grown-up. The last time she’d stood within the walls of the Parrish Hotel, she’d been twelve years old.
“Mom, Sarah and I just want to walk down the street.”
“Don’t be long,” her mother had called from behind the reception counter. “Your father will be back from Gallipolis soon. I have chicken at home for dinner.”
Katie seemed to recognize she’d focused on something else and quietly suggested Sam settle in the lobby with his comic book. After some more small talk, Eve retreated to her office.
She thought about her job back in Harrisburg—a secretarial position with a state agency that afforded her four weeks of vacation a year, two of which she was presently using. It simply wasn’t practical for her to remain in Point Pleasant. Even her father and Aunt Rosie would understand that.
Resolved, she picked up the phone and dialed Adam Barnett’s number. The sooner she started the ball rolling, the sooner she could wrap things up and head home. His secretary put her through, and he answered within seconds.
“Hello, Mr. Barnett? This is Eve Parrish. I thought about what you said regarding the hotel, and I’d like you to put out some feelers for a prospective buyer. I believe you mentioned you had some inquiries.”
“Why, yes, Miss Parrish.” He sounded delighted to hear from her, even more by the subject. “Only one, actually, but I believe the party is sincere. He knew I represented Rosalind’s estate and approached me some time ago. I told him you were undecided with your plans.”
“That hasn’t changed.” She continued to waffle over the decision, unable to make up her mind and break ties to a town that had brought her nothing but grief. “But I’m not averse to entertaining offers. I’m planning on contacting James Dixon of River Real Estate about selling, but wanted to give your contact an opportunity.”
“I can work with Mr. Dixon. Perhaps you’d like me to make a discreet inquiry of the potential buyer and have him offer a figure? I’ll handle the settlement, and Mr. Dixon can handle the contract. No signs, no advertising, no marketing.”
She bit her lip, worried she was making a mistake. “Why don’t you run it past your buyer and see what he’s willing to offer. Please keep everything confidential, especially until I have a chance to speak with Mr. Dixon. I don’t want word spreading I’m going to sell the hotel.”
“Naturally.”
After she hung up, Eve debated the wisdom of what she’d done. It was just an old hotel, not flesh and blood. It shouldn’t bother her to sign on the dotted line, wash her hands of the structure, and tuck the proceeds into her bank account. But she had people counting on her for employment. People like Katie and Nancy and the other employees she’d met that afternoon. At the very least, whatever her decision, she would look out for them.
* * * *
When four o’clock rolled around, Katie and Sam left. A short time later, Eve packed up her folder and headed for her car. Main Street was mostly deserted when she stepped outside, the lack of vehicles the norm with traffic diverted to the new Silver Memorial Bridge at the opposite end of town. The strange quiet preyed on her nerves, an eerie sensation that prickled her skin like the shroud hanging over a ghost town. It was strange to see the streets empty, yet hear the hum of passing cars a few blocks away. With that simple rerouting of traffic, the world had elected to pass by Main Street, relegating it to a shadow of another age. An antiquity.
Eve slid into the car and set the folder on the passenger seat. She was in the process of inserting her key into the ignition when she spied a slip of paper pinned beneath her windshield wiper. Opening the door, she reached to the front of the vehicle, pulled the note free, and sank back into her seat.
Typed in the center of the page was a single sentence that sent a chill cascading down her spine. You should leave before you get hurt.
Chapter 4
With shaking fingers, Eve dialed the number on the business card, relieved to hear a masculine “hello” after the third ring. “Caden, this is Eve Parrish. I’d like you to repair the back door on my property. How soon do you think you can do it?”
>
Maybe she was being paranoid, but the note had left her shaken. There’d been no one about on the deserted street, but she imagined the author lurking behind a building waiting to see her reaction. Frightened, she’d rushed inside the hotel to her office, fished Caden’s business card from her purse, and quickly dialed.
“I already started it,” he said.
“You did?” She wasn’t sure if she should be cross or grateful. “When?”
The man, annoyingly short on words, exhaled a perturbed breath. “I told you earlier I would take care of it today.”
“But I didn’t agree.”
Silence.
She twined the phone cord in her hand and paced from the desk to the window. “How did you get in?”
He uttered a soft grunt. “Through the screened porch. It’s not secure, remember? Neither is the kitchen door. I’ve already got most of the work done. I just came home to grab a few tools before heading back to finish. Do you want it completed or not?”
“Yes. Of course.” Isn’t that why she was calling? So what if he’d started the job without her approval? The important element now was that he finished. “And…I’d like to talk to you.” He seemed to have firm ideas about the vandalism and Aunt Rosie. Ryan had brushed it off as kids, but Caden had denoted it as something sinister. In light of the note, she wanted to know more. “Have you had dinner?”
He paused as though surprised by the question. “I was going to grab a cheeseburger from McDonalds.”
A typical male food staple. Though he couldn’t see her, she rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother. I’ll grab something from the café for both of us. I’d like to talk with you about Aunt Rosie. Do you have time?”
He hesitated again, the silence filled with marked reluctance. She sensed it had little to do with the idea of them having dinner together and more to do with the past. Aunt Rosie was part of that, as was Maggie.