The Comfort of Secrets

by Christine Nolfi

  “We will talk to her—later. But only if my suspicions are correct.”

  “What suspicions?”

  Clamping her thighs around a limb, Jada lowered a hand. “Linnie, if you don’t zip it, I’m coming back down with the biggest branch I can tear free and beating you senseless. Now, come on!”

  Linnie was on her way up when Cat spotted a thick, low-hanging limb in the muddy light. Ducking beneath a curtain of leaves, she grabbed hold and leapt down to the grass. Following her cue, Jada descended with ease. Linnie was last, scooting into their waiting arms.

  Cat sprinted off to the central hill. In the rising daylight, the large tombstone, with cherubs carved into the pink-veined marble, carried an eerie, phosphorescent glow.

  A mason jar of roses sat before the headstone. Kneeling on the sod, Cat searched for the tin.

  Jada reached her. “Found it?” she asked.

  “Not yet.”

  Scanning the inscription carved into the stone, Jada cleared her throat. “Good morning, Mr. Dufour. I hope you don’t mind if we ransack your grave. It’s for a good cause.”

  Cat arched a brow at her friend. “I’m sure he understands.” She hesitated, glanced at the marble, and made the sign of the cross. “We appreciate this, Mr. Dufour.”

  Having concluded the social niceties, she resumed searching for the tin.

  “Frances makes a small memorial out of stones for her cat,” Linnie told her. “Find the stones. The tin will be nearby.”

  “What do you think I’m doing?”

  Jada dropped onto all fours to pat her hands across the grass. The sun, rising behind the headstone, sent blinding shafts of light into their faces.

  Cat squinted through the glare. “Damn it, Linnie. Are you going to help, or not?”

  “I’m helping!” Obediently she began crawling across the grave. “What does the tin look like?”

  Crawling forward, Cat winced as her knee landed on a sharp stone. “It’s a small rectangular tin for keeping embroidery thread. Frances uses a different one each year.” Retrieving the stone, she inspected the smooth, heart-shaped surface. “We have a problem. The groundskeepers have mown over the stones Frances puts out for kitty’s grave.”

  Jada shoved the nest of tight curls from her eyes. “Now what?”

  Often in the past, Cat accompanied Frances to the grave. Usually she came with her mother and whichever of the Sirens was available that day. Frances knew the mowing schedule kept by the groundskeepers. She followed their schedule like clockwork, bringing the largest bouquets for her late husband’s grave on days after they’d finished their work.

  “Frances brought the tin out here in September,” she said aloud. “The cemetery has been mown at least twice since then. She would’ve made sure the groundskeepers didn’t run over the tin.”

  Linnie dropped onto her butt. “Okay, Sherlock. Where’d she hide it?”

  Giddy excitement sent Cat to where the thick green sod met the base of the headstone. Driving her fingers between the damp soil and the cool marble, she moved down the crevice, breaking a nail and clotting her fingertips with dirt. At the corner of the headstone, her knuckles bumped against a hard, metal lip hidden beneath the sod.

  “Found it!” Carefully she withdrew the tin from its hiding place.

  On the opposite side of the headstone, golden light caught the dew on the grass like a scattering of diamonds. Squinting against the brightness, she wedged the lid off. Jada and Linnie hemmed her in as she set the lid aside.

  The first items to catch her notice were the beautiful feathers, shells, and stones expertly laced together with simple twine. Frances’s work, clearly, with every item painted in vibrant shades of blue.

  Reciting Julia’s words, she murmured, “Even an ocean between us won’t make me completely free.” Looking up at her puzzled friends, she added, “It was something Julia used to say to her older sister as a joke.”

  Linnie took the keepsake, ran her fingers across the feathers. “She wanted an ocean between them? That’s not funny. It’s more in the category of hurtful remarks.”

  “She did move to the West Coast, and nearly put an ocean between herself and Ohio.” Cat recalled Julia’s heartbreaking words. “Between her future and a happy past.”

  “This is all fascinating conjecture. It doesn’t prove Ryan’s mother is related to Frances. Maybe Frances’s cat liked the color blue.”

  “Aren’t cats color-blind?”

  “I’m not sure.” Linnie rubbed her chin. “What exactly do we have here? The love tokens Frances brings every September aren’t for her cat—which is what everyone in town assumes—but to memorialize the sister she lost?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Did Julia come out and say she has a sister in Sweet Lake?”

  “She didn’t deny it.”

  Jada, sold on theory, said, “Linnie, you’re being obtuse.”

  “Yeah? The next time you goofballs send a crack-of-dawn text, bring caffeine for the road trip. I should’ve asked Penelope for a thermos.”

  Jada glared at her. “Forget the java and listen. Julia must’ve broken off communication with Frances in September, then took Ryan and disappeared. If you or Cat disappeared, I’d be devastated not knowing where you’d gone, or if you were safe.” A tear wended down her cheek. “If I were in Frances’s shoes, I’d let everyone think I was mourning over a silly cat. It’s a better alternative than having to discuss the most painful event of her life.”

  Linnie shrunk into herself. “Okay, okay. Geez, you’re touchy. I’ll keep an open mind.”

  “You’d better. If Cat’s right about this, we’re on the brink of reuniting sisters who haven’t seen each other in decades.”

  “And introducing Ryan to the aunt he doesn’t remember, and the sister he’s never met,” Cat put in. “Let’s not forget about Gemma.”

  “I get it! Ryan meets Frances and his kid sister, the music swells, and Julie Andrews rolls into Sweet Lake belting out the song about the hills—” At the thunder in Jada’s eyes, Linnie ditched the jokes. She nudged the tin in Cat’s lap. “What else is inside the little box of wonders?”

  Cat withdrew a second token, similar to one from the velvet pouch. Sensing victory, she held it aloft. “Made by Frances and Julia when they were children?”

  Linnie nodded. “Guess your mother didn’t come up with the original design with her faithful co-leader when they founded the Sirens. Frances has been making tokens since she was a kid.” She peered into tin. “Look under the lace handkerchief. There’s something else.”

  Trembling with anticipation, Cat rolled the handkerchief back.

  An old photograph lay beneath. The thick white border brought to mind a sweet memory of the old-school camera her grandfather had toted around when she was young. In the photo, five young girls wore matching shorts with frilly ankle socks folded neatly above their saddle shoes. They stood with their shoulders pressed together, at a carnival or an amusement park. The two youngest girls, toddlers, really, were caught on film dunking their noses into large cones of cotton candy. The middle girl, still plump with baby fat, stared gleefully at the camera.

  The two oldest girls, lean legged amidst childhood’s first growth spurt, regarded each other with mischievous grins.

  Jada pointed to them. “Frances and Julia?”

  Intuition told Cat the assessment was correct. “Must be, right?”

  “Hard to tell. They’re so young. Third and fourth grade?”

  “Or second and third.” She ran her finger around the blurred faces. Best guess, the photo was more than sixty years old. “I’m sure it’s them.”

  “Incredible that Frances has four younger sisters.”

  “Mami’s gone with her to visit two of them. They both live outside Cincinnati, on the north side of the city. She also has a sister outside Cleveland or Akron.”

  “Sad to think Julia lived near them all this time, but never got in touch.”

  “She had good reason fo
r staying hidden.”

  Jada brushed away the tear lingering on her cheek. “She never really escaped her ex-husband’s abuse. After he found her and Ryan in Idaho, I can’t blame her for the choices she made.”

  Cat’s heart shifted. “Yeah, but she moved back to Ohio anyway. Julia left her family on bad terms, but she must have wanted to reach out to her sisters at some point—especially Frances.” She thought of something else. “Ryan’s half sister is from Ohio, which implies George came here looking for Julia. Why else would he have come? I wonder how long he was with Gemma’s mother.”

  “For Gemma’s sake, I hope it wasn’t long.”

  Linnie, impatient beneath their theories, took possession of the tin. She withdrew a small bundle of dried herbs. The lavender sprigs included in the bunch sent out a pungent scent. “Hold on, ladies.” Reverently, she placed Frances’s handkerchief on the grass. “There’s more.” She handed the tin to Cat.

  Inside lay a second photograph.

  With wonder, Cat withdrew it from the tin.

  Chapter 22

  If the photograph of the five girls refused to supply definitive proof of the connection between Frances and Julia, the image now in Cat’s possession put even Linnie’s doubts to rest.

  There was no mistaking the identity of the small boy with the raven hair and the strong jawline seated on his mother’s lap. The image provided a more startling shock as Cat studied the man standing behind them in a chambray shirt and chinos, his defiant, arrogant gaze steadied on the camera. The family shot was taken in a studio against a multicolored background that resembled confetti.

  Jada made a small noise of unease. “Julia looks miserable. Cat, when do you think this was taken?”

  “Not too long before she left George the first time. Ryan’s about four years old, I’d guess.”

  “Check out his father. Ryan looks just like him.”

  Her stomach knotting, Cat studied the image closely. It was unnerving, how much Ryan took after his father. How such an uncanny resemblance molded two men who were nothing alike.

  Appearing to sense her distress, Linnie plucked the image from her fingers and dropped it back into the tin. “Now what? Cat, you have to talk to Ryan.”

  “Not until I speak to Julia.”

  “Hold on. Didn’t she say she doesn’t have the courage to patch things up with her sister? Granted, you’ve figured out whom she was talking about. Doesn’t mean she’ll change her mind because you’ve become a super sleuth.”

  “I can’t divulge her secrets without running it by her first. She had good reasons for dropping out of sight. We know George did come to Ohio looking for her—Gemma is also his child, right? He was probably stalking everyone in Julia’s family for years, hoping she’d turn up. In between, he was messing around with other women—including Gemma’s mother. I can’t ignore the genuine fear that’s kept Julia hiding all this time.”

  “What about Ryan and Frances? They deserve to find out about each other.”

  Cat pressed the lid firmly on the tin. “Julia carries a lot of guilt about Frances. Her older sister, the one who cared for their parents after she disappeared. How do you comfort your parents after that sort of loss?” She appraised the morning light spreading across the hills, her emotions in flux. “This isn’t just a matter of bringing a family back together. According to Ryan, Julia can get very depressed. She’s off the meds now, but she’s gone through periods when she needs them. It’s been tough on them both.”

  “I have a cousin with serious depression,” Jada confided. “He doesn’t take big changes well. Good or bad, they’re hard on him. Cat, make sure you handle all of this with Julia carefully.”

  “I will.”

  Linnie asked, “What about Gemma? Will you at least tell Ryan about his sister?”

  “Gemma has gone to the trouble of finding him. She’ll talk to him at the concert whether I give him a heads-up or not. It might be easier on Ryan to get his family secrets in small doses.” All the revelations heading his way were sure to floor him. “I’ll look for Gemma before the concert, talk to her. If she’s nervous about approaching him, I’ll offer encouragement.”

  Linnie brushed the grass from her slacks. “I totally get the issue with Julia’s depression. All the same, I hope you convince her to get in touch with Frances. For Ryan’s sake.”

  Jada took the tin and returned it to its hiding place at the base of the headstone. “If she’s not on board, it’ll be awkward telling Ryan he has an aunt living right here in Sweet Lake—especially if bringing all of this up puts his mother back on antidepressants.”

  Doubt flooded Cat’s heart. “What if I can’t get Julia on board?”

  The question dogged her throughout the morning. For once, she welcomed the harried pace of her workday. People checking in clogged the lobby, and the staff dealt with a series of small disasters. In three rooms, guests called down complaining about missing bath towels. Small arguments broke out in the kitchen as the staff worked without a break, preparing breakfast orders until past ten o’clock, then serving the first lunch patrons, who appeared in the Sunshine Room promptly at eleven o’clock.

  Cat didn’t share more than a passing word with Ryan. It was an odd relief. Penny Higbee from Adworks had decided to come in a day early. They were roaming the grounds together, photographing the inn and the lake.

  Throughout the day, Cat found her tangled thoughts repeatedly drawn back to Julia. The desire to stride up to the south wing, and lay out all the discoveries she’d made, was strong. Caution stopped her. With the Wayfair a bees’ nest of activity, waiting until after the busy weekend to confront Julia seemed the kindest choice.

  He’d given Frances long enough to decide.

  Certain of the payoff awaiting him, George turned onto Highland Avenue, humming a tune. He cruised past a postal truck slowing before a brick mansion. The driver’s plump arm popped out of the truck’s window to pull open the mailbox. Across the street, an old gent in a plaid robe was stooping on his front lawn, retrieving the newspaper. He shuffled back inside, leaving the street once again empty.

  George pulled into Frances’s driveway. This early on a Friday, odds were good that she was making her first cup of coffee.

  He’d barely lowered his feet to the pavement when the strangest woman came around the side of the house. A tentlike yellow robe covered in black sparkles flowed to her ankles. That, combined with the crown on her head of whatnots bobbing on lengths of wire, made her look like a ginormous bumblebee. From the small bag she carried, she sprinkled something pungent on the asphalt. Cloves?

  On closer inspection, he cursed his bad luck. It was the do-gooder who’d given him the free slice of pie last weekend.

  Halfway down the driveway, she noticed him gaping at her. She shrieked.

  The ear-numbing sound brought a slender Japanese woman out from behind the house. She was followed by a pretty gal with cinnamon-colored hair, who scrambled for something in her purse.

  George dropped his keys.

  He was searching the pavement as the Japanese woman began pelting him with small, foul-smelling wax balls. A chunk of something putrid got past his lips. Gagging, he spit it out. Then he dropped onto his hands and knees to reach frantically beneath the Mustang for his keys.

  They were scraping across the pavement when Miss Bumblebee stopped shrieking so quickly that George paused a heartbeat, certain his skull was still vibrating. He was shielding his face from another barrage of wax balls when she whirled toward the postal truck.

  “Ozzie—save us!”

  Four houses up, the truck screeched to a standstill. The door swung wide, shooting envelopes across the curb. With a growl, a pudgy youth leapt out.

  “Mama, I’m coming!”

  For a kid so out of shape, he was damn fast. Two houses away he vaulted over a hedge, the mail bursting from his hands to shower across the grass. George lunged for his car. He’d brought the engine to life when the pretty chick with the cinnamon-colo
red hair withdrew a pink tube from her purse that sure as hell wasn’t lipstick. She came at him like an angry wasp, spraying Mace in an arc.

  Eyes burning, he backed out in a hurry. Swerving around the enraged postal carrier, George shot down the street.

  “I’ve got great news and interesting news. Which would you like first?”

  Closing the door, Ryan managed to reduce the noise level only slightly. In the corridor outside Cat’s office, a mostly good-natured crowd waited for tables to open up in the busy Sunshine Room. At this rate, lunch service would merge directly into the dinner rush.

  Cat looked up from the computer. “Great news first. I need the boost. I’ve done everything from checking people in at the front desk to waiting tables in the Sunshine Room. I should join Linnie in the basement and help scare up more towels.”

  “Guests are still calling down?” He’d heard about the complaints.

  “A new hire in housekeeping missed some of the rooms. Bringing her in at the start of an incredibly busy week wasn’t our smartest decision.”

  “With the inn at full occupancy, you didn’t have much choice.”

  “We should’ve hired her in September. Learning the ropes during this much chaos isn’t easy.” Cat rested her head on the back of her chair. “Hit me with the great news. I’m feeling more than a little frazzled.”

  The explanation dovetailed with his observations. For reasons he couldn’t identify, Cat was preoccupied about some matter. Whatever the problem, she preferred not to discuss it.

  This morning she’d left the south wing early without explanation. The long workday showed in the faint patches of exhaustion beneath her eyes. He made a silent pledge that once the busy weekend finished, he’d suggest they sneak away for a short vacation. They’d use the time to solidify their relationship, and catch up on much-needed sleep.

  Returning to the issue at hand, he said, “Cleveland’s Plain Dealer is sending a reporter next week. They’re putting together a feature on the best Ohio getaways for autumn.”