Dell tossed her coffee onto the grass. “Out of respect for Sapphira, we’ve kept her painting room intact until the day the house is officially Gavin’s. Starting midmorning tomorrow we’ll go over each item, deciding to pack it up to sell or to keep.”
“That’s going to be a lot of work,” Julep said.
“I could help…if you’d like a hand,” Tara offered.
Her response was better than Gavin had hoped.
“That’s very sweet,” Luella said. “And we’d love your help. Gavin has a schedule to keep, and a bit of youth is just what we need to get the job done. He’s banking that the house will be ready for demolition day after tomorrow. The debris will be hauled off, the survey complete, and the lots put up for sale by this weekend.”
“That’s crazy.” Tara’s brows knit. “Who could get all that done that quickly?”
“Gavin.” His mamas’ voices rang in unison, and then they laughed.
Luella winked at him. “He’s been working on more than the demolition. Every aspect has been worked out in detail—like an Amish barn raising, only in reverse. He has crews for the big stuff, a lawyer for the estate issues, a surveyor for the land, and four women to pack up an art room.”
“Five,” Tara added.
The women cheered quietly, and Gavin couldn’t have been more pleased.
“The balloon payment is in two weeks,” his mom said. “So we’re praying that within a week he can sell what will then be two properties to a cash buyer.”
Gavin wouldn’t mention to the group at large about the possibility of the land being divided into three parcels. He needed to talk to his mom in private about that so the others didn’t influence her decision. Maybe she’d hate the idea of sharing her driveway with neighbors.
“Bidding wars are very likely to happen during that week.” Luella set her plate on a table, looking disinterested in food. “There’s no land left to sell on this side of the island.”
“But how do you go to closing on two pieces of property in a week in order to meet your balloon payment?” Tara asked.
“A couple of possibilities.” Gavin held up two fingers. “The buyer has available cash, or the contract is solid, and the bank will accept that and give me a grace period—as long as it’s under contract with real money behind it.”
“Wow, that’s a lot riding on everything working out with precision.”
“Gavin can pull it off.” His mom sounded like…his mom.
Tara ate a few bites of her bacon biscuit and then checked his phone. “Ah, he’s read the message. Now it’s time to call.” She placed the call and put it on speakerphone.
“What are you trying to pull, Gavin? I’ll have my lawyers—”
“Mr. Ashe,” Tara said.
“Who is this?” Roy snapped.
“The girl in the picture. Did your shiplap guy tell you I was in the house that night? And that he caused those bruises? That he shoved me to the floor before getting into his truck and fleeing with the shiplap from the carport?”
“Like I told Gavin, if someone stole that shiplap, I’m sorry. But it wasn’t me.”
“True. The man wasn’t you. But I can identify him. Then you’ll have paper and electronic trails where you moved money in order to buy the wood and then moved it back once you had the wood without having to pay for it. My guess is, once I turn over that picture to the police, a real investigation will begin, and it won’t take them long to locate the home where you had the shiplap installed.”
“Wait. Who is this?”
“The girl your employee used brute force on. That’s all you need to know. Ask him. I’ll tell you something else too. After I encountered your guy, Gavin had to take me to be seen by a doctor. A CT scan revealed a traumatic brain injury.”
“What?” The man mumbled something. “I knew nothing about…I need to call you back.”
The call ended.
Gavin wasn’t sure what had just happened. “What are you doing?”
“Banking that fear will do its job. I did have a CT scan the next morning after that guy pushed me around, and it showed a head injury. I didn’t lie. Mr. Ashe is calling the guy now to find out what took place. When he realizes his guy played rough, fear will do the rest, and you’ll get your money.”
Realization swooped through Gavin. “That guy assaulted you.”
“He was rough while trying to get past me, not bad enough to injure me more than a few bruises. But I wasn’t going to let him steal from my house.” Tara’s wry smile worked its way through Gavin. She was stronger than he’d given her credit for.
Guilt trickled into his consciousness. “Tara, I’m sorry. I was so focused on the shiplap and your need for me not to call the police that I didn’t do due diligence to ask and listen. I just wanted you to go to sleep and let me think.”
“I hardly knew what to believe about what I saw or thought to be true during that time. But feeling threatened—like when you chased me down the beach in your uniform, and that man twisted my arm and shoved me hard, and I smacked the floor? Those things are clear.”
Her strength and graciousness reached into his chest and plucked out his heart. It now belonged to her more than to him. “Still, I could’ve listened as if it mattered, even if it’d only happened inside your mind.”
Her lips pursed and she frowned. “That’d be weird. You were a stranger being kind to an intruder. All limits of what you should’ve done had been reached.” She brushed hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “But back to the subject at hand. When Roy questions his man who stole the lumber rather than pay for it, and Roy hears in the man’s voice that something happened that night, his fear of just how much proof we have and how badly this could play out for him will do the work for us. But you talk to him from now on. I’m out.”
Gavin’s phone rang, and the name Roy Ashe was on the screen. “Gavin speaking.”
“I won’t discuss this over the phone. I’ll meet you on St. Simons Island Pier tomorrow. Will two p.m. work?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not saying I was involved in what happened.”
“Of course not.”
Men like Roy never admitted to wrongdoing, even when the proof was overwhelming and a guilty verdict was returned. But Gavin believed the man who came to get the shiplap had intended to pay for it. He was an opportunistic thief, and he’d taken the goods wherever Roy told him to, probably ensuring a good-size bonus, while making both of them guilty.
“But I’ll pay you,” Roy said, “in exchange for you signing a nondisclosure agreement.”
A knot twisted in Gavin’s gut. If debt didn’t own him right now, and if Tara’s testimony would hold up in court, Gavin would press charges based on principle. But debt did own him. Moreover, if the incident went to court, a lawyer would destroy Tara’s testimony in a matter of minutes. She’d been very confused at the time of the incident, and it wouldn’t take long for any lawyer to prove she’d had a recent head trauma and thought the house was hers.
The knot in his stomach tightened. “You didn’t return my calls or texts the night of the incident, and I turned in a police report.”
“Yeah, I know. They’ve been here and questioned me. But none of that matters if you don’t press charges and you contact them to say it was a misunderstanding. Tell them you were gone during the time you were supposed to be there to sell us the shiplap. The man took the shiplap, and you’ve been paid.”
“So you want me to lie to the police to cover your backside?”
“Actually, everything I just said is true.”
“Except you had no intention of paying for the shiplap until right now.”
The line was silent for more than a minute. “I’ll add twenty percent to the price, and you and that girl sign a nondisclosure.”
“No. She’s left out o
f this.”
“Then your signature is worth nothing. She could turn around and sue my company after I pay you.”
“She won’t.” Gavin was sure of that. Her retelling events or identifying anyone during that time would never stand up in court. “But you’ll have to take my word for it.”
“Fine,” Roy snapped.
“And you’ll still give me the twenty percent increase.” But that forty thousand dollars above the agreed-upon price would become Tara’s, not Gavin’s.
“At the pier tomorrow afternoon at two.”
The line went dead, but Gavin’s heart soared. How was it possible he’d get paid for the shiplap after all?
Tara smiled, and he had his answer—one vulnerable, mixed-up woman who knew what she was capable of when no one else, including him, had a clue.
30
The quiet voices inside Sapphira’s painting room faded as Luella scanned the different paints, clay sculptures, and art papers. Even though Sapphira had been gone close to two years, the room still looked as if she would walk in at any moment and give an art lesson. Luella had loved her high school art classes with Sapphira. At one time or another, at one location or another, all the Glynn Girls had taken art classes from her. That’s where the bond with Sapphira began, and it had lasted until Sapphira died without warning at seventy-three. She’d been in this very room, painting and probably praying that Siobhan would find her way back, when she had a heart attack. She’d called 911, saying that she needed help, that she’d started feeling sick and dizzy twenty minutes earlier. Gavin was at the station, but by the time the EMTs arrived four minutes later, she was gone.
Luella closed her eyes. Sapphira’s infectious laugh and her fervent prayers for Siobhan echoed in Luella’s memories. Oh, how she missed their fifth Glynn Girl. Maybe that was why she saw Tara as Sapphira the other day. Tara could make a perfect fifth Glynn Girl. It seemed right somehow that she was here with them now, ready to help pack up this room.
“I can’t believe it’s time to take this room apart.” Sue Beth had tears in her eyes.
Dell wrapped an arm around Sue Beth’s shoulders and squeezed. “We knew it was coming. And we’ll save everything that’s precious to us.”
“So…the whole thing?” Sue Beth waved an arm in a circle.
With scissors in hand Tara put one hand on a huge roll of Bubble Wrap and the other hand on the glassine. “It all has to be moved out of here, so let’s get this done before Gavin rips the hardwood floors out from under us, leaving us with nothing but that stinky, yucky subflooring.” She looked at all the supplies. “Not that I know anything about packing up artwork.”
“We’ll teach you”—Luella sighed—“if we can make ourselves get started.”
“Home stretch, girls.” Julep clapped her hands and pushed up her sleeves. “I’ll miss Sapphira’s house too, especially this room, but I’m so grateful we can give all this to Gavin to put an end to my financial mess.”
Gentle morning sunlight spilled across the dark hardwood floors as Dell passed out pairs of nitrile gloves.
Dell lifted the first canvas oil painting from the stack leaning against the wall. Julep talked to Tara, giving detailed instructions for properly packing artwork: place a thin layer of foam on the floor and cover it with glassine, put the painting face down on that and tape it in place, and then add layers of Bubble Wrap with the smooth side facing the painting. More tape and wrap until the packing is six inches thick. The works that weren’t on canvas could be rolled and slid into hard cardboard tubes.
Before long they had a system and were making good progress. Occasionally one of the girls would tell Tara a story connected to a painting even though she didn’t seem very interested. She simply nodded and kept moving.
Luella paused to watch Tara work, observing how she packed the precious artwork with meticulous care. Tara had some color to her face today, and she had the strength to do more than just carry the weight of grief.
Even so, it’d only been a month since her brothers died and only two weeks since she relearned their fate. That was no time at all to deal with the depth of Tara’s loss. But some people had an inner drive to feel normal, and Tara seemed to be one of them. Luella had seen that in Julep after Mitch died. The first few weeks she had been gung ho about donating the bulk of Mitch’s things and eager to participate in any church charity events she could. But then at times the heavy load of grief would catch up to her, and she’d crumble.
Tara had a lot of times of crumbling ahead of her before she’d be able to climb this mountain of grief. Wait! Tara mentioned she was a rock climber. Maybe that metaphor would make sense to her.
Not that this was a good time to share it.
“Luella.” Julep waved her hand close to Luella’s face. “Are you going to pull your weight here?”
Dell winked at her. “She’s probably daydreaming about her new gentleman friend.”
“Ooh, you need to spill all about your most recent date.” Sue Beth sidled over and elbowed her.
Luella made a zipper motion over her lips. “Sorry. I’m not penning a tell-all about my personal life.”
Dell giggled. “That’s because it’s only recently that she’s had a personal life.”
Luella shot a glare at Dell, who shaped her hands into a halo over her head.
Truth be told, things were amazing between Charles and her. So much so that she didn’t want to trivialize it by blabbing to everyone. She pulled out a piece of paper from the stack she was working on. Maybe getting back to work would provide a distraction.
Tara held up a painting of the lighthouse. “This reminds me of a painting I have…only mine has ocean water.”
“Yeah, the world has a lot of lighthouses.”
“True.” Tara put the painting facedown on the glassine.
“Oh, girls! Doesn’t this bring back memories?” Luella lifted the pencil-and-watercolor sketch of the colorful snow-cone stand that used to be on the corner of Magnolia and Mallery. The red-and-white kiosk had an old-fashioned ice shaver that the owner, Mr. Pat, had found in a New Orleans pawnshop. He’d long since retired, but the memory of the refreshing treat served in little yellow paper cups was as strong as ever.
Tara scooted closer and touched the painting with her gloved hands, her fingers barely brushing the thick watercolor paper. “How odd.”
Julep gave a short laugh. “Yeah, I suppose an old-timey stand like that wouldn’t be common in North Carolina. Don’t make us feel our age even more than we already do when hanging around young folks like you.”
Tara smiled, shaking her head. “No, I’ve seen little stands like this in small towns. What’s odd is that this looks like one I’ve dreamed about time and again.” She pointed at the sign next to the snow-cone stand in Sapphira’s picture. “Even down to this advertisement with a long orange drip running down it, as if real juice stained the ad.”
“So like a déjà vu?” Sue Beth wiggled her fingers.
Tara angled her head, studying the art. “I’m not sure that’s the right term.” She looked off to the side, a cloud coming over her face.
Dell’s brows wrinkled as she regarded Tara. “What happened in your dream, honey?”
Tara made a face. “Never mind. It’s not that interesting. And like most dreams, it doesn’t make much sense.” She gestured. “Let’s roll it up and move on.”
“Aw, I need a five-minute break.” Sue Beth sat on the floor and leaned against a set of shelves. “Tell us the dream.”
Julep and Dell sat too, but Luella held the artwork, watching Tara’s face as she studied the piece.
Tara closed her eyes. “In the dream I was a child…maybe five, I think. I was stuck in a hot room and terrified. There was a little boy with me who was a couple of years younger. The room kept getting hotter, and I knew I had to take care of the boy. I was yelling,
yanking, and pulling on doors, but I finally managed to roll down a window.”
Julep drummed her fingers on her knee. “Roll it down? From inside a room?”
Tara shrugged. “It’s a dream. What can I say? Anyway, I helped the boy climb out, but he was all red and sweating. So I started asking people for change until I had enough, and I bought him a snow cone, a red one. And the stand looked just like this one. Weird, right?”
It couldn’t be…
The paper slipped from Luella’s hands and floated to the floor. At that same moment something in the closet hit with a horrendous thud. Chills ran up Luella’s arms, but she ignored them and checked to see what had fallen. She found a large set of tempera paints on the floor that Sapphira had never opened.
She’d been saving them for Siobhan to return.
What on earth…
Luella returned the paints to the shelf, going over Tara’s dream in her mind. It had a lot of similarities to an event that had happened to Siobhan and Gavin about twenty-five years ago, only the “room” was an older clunker of a car.
She glanced at the other Glynn Girls, all of whom were staring at Tara and looking as stunned as Luella felt. Was this a dream? Some sort of upside-down world from which Luella would wake?
“Th…that’s quite a dream.” Luella tried to smile. “Thanks for sharing it.”
The others chimed in, muttering much the same.
Tara smiled. “Anytime you need to while away the hours listening to recurring dreams, I’m your girl.”
Julep stood and dusted off her jeans. “Whew, I think I need a break from this packing. How about some sandwiches? I’m famished.” Everyone nodded.
Tara raised an eyebrow. “We ate less than two hours ago.” She looked at her wristwatch. “It’s only 10:30.”
Julep fidgeted with her hands. “Tara, maybe you’d like to go check on Gavin. We’ll fix lunch.”
“He’s at the lawyer’s office, and then he has the meeting with Roy Ashe at the pier.”
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