Mark must hate her. Thinking about him gave her the creeps.
Footsteps on the stairs made Nora stiffen. She couldn’t hear the front door from here and someone was already on their way up.
“Don’t think you can avoid me forever.” It wasn’t what she expected.
“Good morning, Abigail.”
Anger wafted from Abigail in waves but it didn’t affect her appearance. She wore wool slacks, a turtleneck, and boots, all coordinated with a car coat that carried the chilly fall morning into Nora’s office. “Don’t ‘good morning’ me. I set up an appointment with a very busy man on your behalf and you embarrassed me in front of him. I can’t imagine what he’ll tell his mother.”
“I said I was sorry.” It would do no good to shut Abigail down. Might as well let her spew.
With the Abigail white noise, Nora was finally able to concentrate. She stared at the screen. What was this? Wasn’t the balance of Sylvia’s restricted account much higher in August than the balance the computer showed for September?
Abigail slapped the desktop. “Are you listening to me?”
Nora pulled her gaze from the screen. Ignoring Abigail wouldn’t work. She noted the time and gave Abigail ten minutes to rant. The headache gained momentum.
“ ‘Casting away radiance in pursuit of mediocrity in a flight of fear.’ ” Abigail reached into her slender leather handbag and pulled out another tiny notepad. This one sparkled with gold glitter adorning Michelangelo’s cherubs and had a matching miniature pen. She paused and slid the pad back into the bag. “Something not right about that. I’ll work on it.”
The morning lightened enough and Nora snapped off her desk lamp. “Poetry aside, Abigail, I’m trying to work. Can we talk at home?”
Undaunted, Abigail continued. “You’re making a big mistake. Even Cole agrees with me on that.”
Nora sat back in her chair with a creak of springs. “You discussed me with Cole?”
Abigail’s tone softened, as it always did when she talked about Cole. “He’s concerned about you working at the Trust and frankly, after hearing what he had to say, so am I.”
“What, do you have him on speed dial?” She rubbed at a knot on her neck, hoping to ease the knocking in her brain. Maybe she needed coffee.
And here it came again. The speech Abigail worked herself into every time Cole’s name came up. “Why do you have such a problem with that man? He’s strong and capable, certainly not hard on the eyes. And he cares about you.”
Easy lob to Nora’s court. “Let’s talk about you and Charlie.”
Abigail stiffened. “Nothing to talk about.”
“You don’t really think he’s having an affair?”
Abigail clamped her lips and spun toward the door.
Victory! Sometime soon she’d have to dig into the details of the Charlie mess, but not now.
Abigail walked back in. Drat. She’d called the match too soon. “I saw it with my own two eyes. Some woman your age.”
Nora’s eyes wandered to the screen but she swiveled her chair to give Abigail her full attention. “Did you ask Charlie about it?”
Abigail set her bag on the desk and slipped out of her coat, dashing Nora’s hopes for her hasty departure. “Why would I give him the opportunity to make up a lie? I won’t allow myself to be mocked and humiliated.”
Nora wanted to rush Abigail to the finish line. She definitely needed caffeine to battle the headache. “Charlie’s a good man. There’s probably an explanation.”
Abigail perched on the edge of the wicker chair. The burnt orange and browns of her fall ensemble clashed with the lavender and mint motif. “I wasn’t surprised when I caught him. All the signs were there.”
“What kind of signs?”
Abigail straightened her shoulders in sturdy dignity. “He started cleaning up and wearing nice clothes every day. Or rather, what he considers nice clothes. He refused to wear the chinos and golf shirts I bought him. I know they’d be more comfortable than his old button-down flannel shirts and Nora, his jeans were a nightmare of faded and frayed.”
Coffee might save Nora’s life. The rickety heater chugged warm air through the floor vents pushing aside the abandoned feel of the night.
“He left the house every day, as usual, but he wasn’t going into the woods.”
“How do you know?”
Abigail’s despairing expression stabbed at Nora. “I can’t believe I sank so low. I actually sniffed his clothes. They didn’t smell the same as when he wandered the trails with the fresh air and pines.”
Nora stood and stretched. “Why didn’t you talk to him instead of building resentment?”
“That’s the most telling part. His personality changed. With me, anyway.” Abigail’s gaze traveled toward the window. “You know how charming and solicitous he usually is with me.”
Abigail always appreciated goddess worship.
“He became moody. Sometimes he ignored me. And once, he even snapped at me.”
Abigail made Nora want to snap like a feral Chihuahua, but Charlie had endless patience.
“The real clue though, is that he wasn’t interested in,” she lowered her voice, “the bedroom.”
“Yow! Mother!” Nora wanted to wash her ears with alcohol, maybe her brain too.
“It’s natural. Do you think your desire goes away when you hit forty?”
“I don’t want to think about it.” Nora paced to the door and scanned the hallway to make sure no one heard.
“Well, it doesn’t. I’m a healthy woman with healthy needs like any other woman. I notice when my lover loses interest.”
Oh, no. She could not hear this. “Stop talking now.”
Abigail sat back. “You can’t hide from the realities of life, dear.”
Nora wandered back to her desk and propped against the work surface. “We’re going to have to talk about this later. I’ve got a raging headache. Probably because I haven’t been sleeping.”
Abigail hurried over to Nora and placed a cold hand on Nora’s forehead. “Are you sick? Why haven’t you been sleeping?”
Nora brushed Abigail’s hand away. “I’m fine. Just having dreams.”
“Nightmares?”
Maybe it would help exorcise them if Nora talked about it. “Kachina dreams. It’s probably new job stress.”
Abigail acted overly concerned about Nora’s lack of sleep.
Nora rubbed her forehead. “From what I know, kachinas are supposed to stay on the sacred mountain in Flagstaff or on the mesas in Hopiland. They don’t travel all over the place like goblins with frequent flyer miles.”
Abigail frowned and stared out the window.
“I know that November starts a new season for the kachinas. So they leave the mesa where they’ve spent the summer and go back to the mountain for the winter. Maybe Nakwaiyamtewa thinks a visit to Colorado would be nice before he goes home.”
Abigail put on her coat. “You’re overthinking things. It’s just a dream.”
“Maybe it is just a dream about Hopis. But I saw the kachina on Mount Evans and then Benny showed up here. Why?” Nora waited for her mother’s dismissal of kachina sightings as signs of Nora’s overactive imagination.
Abigail seemed distracted and in a hurry to leave. “Why wouldn’t Benny visit? He likes you.”
Nora shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. He hates leaving the mesa for anything.” Nora leaned back and mused. “What is my connection to Hopi?”
Abigail grabbed her bag and scurried to the door.
This didn’t seem right. “Mother?”
“I’ve got to go, dear. Talk to you later.”
Nora’s radar kicked in. “Hang on, Abigail. What are you hiding. You’ve got that secretive look on your face.”
Abigail’s smiled looked strained. “I don’t kn
ow what you’re talking about.”
The hairs on Nora’s neck jumped to attention. “What?”
“I try to live in the present. I don’t like to dwell on unpleasant things in the past,” Abigail stammered.
As much as it sounded like more of Abigail’s awful poetry, Nora thought she might be serious. This wouldn’t be good. “You’re going to tell me something you should have told me a long time ago, aren’t you?”
Abigail huffed. “You don’t need to know everything about me. I’m entitled to a few secrets.”
It only got worse. “But this secret involves me, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe.” Abigail’s eyes traveled from the coat closet up to the ceiling, over to the shelves and to the window. Then she focused on Nora’s light-weight hiking boots.
“Spill it, Mother.”
Abigail glanced down the empty hall and stepped back into the office. “Did you ever wonder how I met Berle?”
Berle was Abigail’s second husband. The man who raised Nora.
Okay, we’re going to take the long way. “This train has a caboose, right? And when we get there it’s going to tell me something I need to know, right?”
Abigail sat in the wicker chair. “I met Berle in Flagstaff. He was there on business with Kachina Ski.”
Nora’s stepfather had given her the ski resort in Flagstaff as insurance for Abigail. He was afraid if he died before Abigail, she’d run through his money. Which is what happened. Nora promised him she’d take care of Abigail. Which she did.
Nora would die of old age or frustration before Abigail made her point.
“I never told you the reason I was in Flagstaff. It had to do with your father.”
“My biological father?” Nora didn’t remember Abigail ever voluntarily mentioning him.
“Yes.”
Nora plopped into her chair.
“Your father was from the Flagstaff area. He grew up there. Had a bunch of family.”
Abigail paused. Nora wanted to scream at her: More. More!
“He didn’t really run away from us, you know.” Abigail said it softly. “He died. And I took him home and let him be buried by his family.”
Nora’s throat felt too dry to speak. “My father died? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Abigail stared ahead, her eyes misty with tears. “I thought if I told you he died, you’d go looking for his family but if I told you he abandoned us, you’d hate him and not ever try to contact him.”
“That makes no sense.”
Abigail raised her eyebrows. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I’ve spent my whole life angry at a man who didn’t deserve it.”
Abigail considered that and then went on. “We were so young. We met in college and married within a month. Neither of us ever finished. So in love. We didn’t have any money and we didn’t care. Oh, I know you won’t believe me when I say that. But your father was … he was special.”
Nora couldn’t speak; she struggled to breathe.
“It was a car wreck. The sort of thing that happens to other people. And suddenly … our dream was all over. He was gone and I was just a few weeks pregnant.”
“I’m sorry.” Nora wanted to cry for her mother’s loss. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
A father and family she didn’t know. How could her mother not tell her? When could she meet them and begin to understand her past? Thoughts flew at her like snowflakes fluttering against a window.
Abigail fought tears. “I wanted what was best for you. Maybe I was wrong. I don’t know. You turned out so well and you’re successful and educated. But it’s coming full circle.”
Chills snaked through Nora.
Abigail’s eyes pleaded for understanding. “Your father was Hopi.”
After so much tension, Nora laughed. “He was not. I’ve got red hair.”
Instant anger burned Abigail’s words. “He most certainly was Hopi. Maybe there was an indiscretion in his ancestry, I don’t know. But there’s also red hair in my family.”
Could that be true? Maybe that’s why she could see Nakwaiyamtewa. “Am I related to Benny?”
Abigail waved her hand. “I imagine so.”
“Does he know that?”
“I don’t know. He seems to know a lot of things.”
Hopi heritage. This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.
Nora rubbed her forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me my father was dead?”
The fire went out of Abigail. “I was afraid. I was young and alone with a baby. The Hopi have very strong family attachments and I thought they might take you from me. I would have shared you with them but I didn’t know those people and I didn’t trust they would give you back.”
“And they’re destitute. You couldn’t stand the thought of me not having all those cute Urban Outfitters clothes and going on spring break.”
“I am not a monster!” Abigail sounded hurt. “I wanted the best for you. And you got the best.”
Nora tilted her head to stretch her neck. “I’m sorry. Can you …” She couldn’t think what she wanted to ask.
Abigail stood and backed toward the door. “You need some time to think about this.”
The world faded, leaving her isolated on her desk chair, floating in dense fog. Nora nodded. “Yes.”
Nora sat still. If she moved, she might crumble.
Hopi.
She had family.
twenty
Nora sat at her desk, struggling with the idea of a father. A Hopi father. Did he love peaches and hate liver as she did? Was he a Rolling Stones fan or did he tend more toward Elvis? Or maybe he didn’t like music at all.
“Good morning.”
Nora gasped at the greeting. Mark stood at her doorway. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Nora brought herself back to reality. Bright light shone from her window.
Last time she saw Mark he had fired her. Now he stood in her doorway. She scanned his hands for the giant butcher knife he probably brought to ram into her ribs. Instead, she saw two tall compostable paper cups bearing the Mr. Green Beans logo. “Hi, Mark.” She tried for casual but it came out a croak.
He held out one of the cups. “I saw your Jeep out front so I turned around and went back for coffee.”
She accepted the cup. This would help with her colossal headache. “Thanks.”
“I got you a double shot skinny latte. Next time, you can tell me your favorite.” He sniggered.
Mark’s one-eighty in attitude made her more than a little jumpy. Abbey stood, stretched, and wagged his tail as he ambled to Mark. When Mark didn’t pet him, Abbey plopped down. Mornings exhausted him.
Nora sipped. Yuck. Mr. Green Beans either over-roasted their beans or grew their own in the back yard. The coffee had a sickening, super-bitter taste. She smiled. “That’s really nice of you.”
He sipped his own coffee. “I need to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I’m only glad the board prevailed with their calmer heads.” He snorted.
What a freak. “It’s okay. I understand how stressful a board meeting can be. Sort of like a college final when your whole grade depends on one essay question.” What had her father studied in college?
“I want us to be friends. We’re on the same team—Team Earth.” He raised a fist.
Everything he needed to know about life he learned in kindergarten and he must have been absent for half the lesson. “Thanks, Mark. I’m really happy to be a part of the Trust.” Was her father short, like a lot of Hopis?
Mark studied her office as if he’d like to know what each carefully stacked pile of papers signified. “Have you been here long this morning?” He sounded more probing than friendly.
Long enough for my whole life to get tipped over.
Time to compar
tmentalize. She shook off her shattering news and concentrated on Mark. New job. Loving Earth Trust. Here. Now. “I wanted to get an early start. It’s a complicated system and the sooner I get it conquered, the sooner I can write checks and pay bills.”
The friendly slipped from his face. “The sooner the better. Sylvia needs that money.”
Would it be poor form to ask about Sylvia and the police?
He pointed to her coffee. “How do you like the latte?” He seemed to expect her to drink more.
She took another awful sip and swallowed down the nasty brew. “It’s great.”
He nodded and watched her closely. Again: freak. “Okay, then. I’ll let you get back to work.”
She sipped just to be a good sport. “Thanks for the coffee.”
He scrutinized her once more and left.
Nora set the coffee down and typed in the August dates on Sylvia’s restricted account. The fund showed $1,295,672.56. She entered the dates for September: $895,672.56.
$400,000 difference. Exactly. Where did it go? It shouldn’t be hard to spot.
Fay poked her head in Nora’s office. She wore jeans and a fleece pullover, her thin blonde hair tangled down her back. Her voice crackled. “Some drama yesterday, huh?”
Abbey stood and offered himself for a pat from the newcomer.
Fay obliged. She spoke in comforting baby-talk. “What a sweetie you are.”
Nora braced for harsh words. After all, she’d announced to the board that several projects at the Trust were over budget. That would probably mean cuts and someone might even lose a job to save money.
Receiving his fair share of welcome, Abbey made his way back to lie at Nora’s feet.
Fay stepped into the office holding a reusable Mr. Green Beans travel mug. She lowered her voice. “Did you get a chance to tell the board about Sylvia? They ought to know she doesn’t do anything.”
Nora didn’t know what to say to that. “I only reported the financial situation.” Which just worsened with a $400,000 disappearance.
Bill stopped outside her door. He hadn’t shaved since yesterday and his shirt had more wrinkles than Harrison Ford’s face. He also sipped from a plastic refillable Mr. Green Beans cup. He gave her a thumbs up and said, “Did you turn Sylvia in for embezzling?”
Broken Trust Page 13