Group, Photo, Grave (A Kiki Lowenstein Mystery)

by Slan, Joanna Campbell

  Experts often say, “Don’t mix business and your personal life,” but that wouldn’t work in a scrapbook store. Our business is all about our customers’ personal lives.

  Cara Mia Delgatto was an example of a customer who’d become a dear friend. I could think of countless others. But I didn’t think I’d be adding Bernice Stottlemeyer to the list. No way.

  I dispatched Anya to check in customers as they came through the front door. With her clipboard in hand, she looked very, very grown up.

  “Your daughter does well with responsibility,” said Cara.

  “Yes, she’s growing up fast,” I agreed. “I depend on her a lot. With two new siblings on the way, I hope I won’t be asking too much of her.”

  Chapter 33

  The card toppers proved to be a huge success. My scrapbookers quickly realized that following my simple formula would provide a great way to use up odd scraps of paper while saving them the cost of buying expensive greeting cards. We finished our “make and take” portion of the night quickly, and the croppers segued into working on their own pages. At seven, we suggested that folks help themselves to the food. The wonderful fragrance of garlic, butter, tomatoes, and cheese had permeated the air since our guests arrived, so they didn’t need any urging to fill their plates.

  “You met with Bernice? She stopped in to see you?” Bonnie Gossage asked me as she headed toward her seat after visiting the food table.

  “Yes. Thank you for the referral. She came in earlier today. I gave her the forms and asked her to return them by Wednesday at six. I understand she needs the album by Thursday at one.”

  Bonnie nodded. In her hands was a plate piled high with salad. She had carefully avoided the pasta, which I took to mean that she was on yet another diet. Bonnie was having trouble shedding her post-baby pounds. I understood entirely. I still hadn’t lost the weight I’d gained when I was pregnant with Anya, and now I was adding to my already fulsome figure.

  “I hope you’ll still be thanking me after the job is over,” Bonnie glanced sideways at me and picked at a piece of lettuce.

  I walked with her to her seat and pulled out the chair for her. “Bonnie, I always appreciate new business. You know I’ll do my best for her. I am missing a few photos. I don’t have many of their home. Especially the nursery.”

  “Uh oh,” said Bonnie. “That’s really important. I told her you’d need them.”

  “She doesn’t seem to grasp what I’m trying to do for her.”

  “I know. I keep trying to stress the importance of the album, but Bernice seems to think that…” she stopped. “Look, I hate to ask, but would you do everything you can for her? I mean, I know you always do, but a senior partner at the firm asked me to take over for him on this one. I’d really like to do a bang up job.”

  I owed Bonnie. Big time. She had provided countless hours of free legal aid to me. This was my turn to repay the favor. “Of course, I will. I’ll go the extra mile. I’ll do everything I can—”

  “But?” Bonnie’s eyes narrowed speculatively as she stared at me. She was a good attorney. Your first impression was of a harried, frazzled mom. The minute she opened her mouth, however, you realized what a brilliant mind churned behind that rumpled exterior.

  “I didn’t say ‘but.’”

  “No, but you thought ‘but.’”

  “But I didn’t say ‘but.’”

  “But you wanted to say ‘but,’ even if you didn’t say ‘but.’”

  I frowned. “You know I don’t gossip about my customers. That’s a rule that Dodie set down on Day One.”

  “I’m not asking you to gossip. I’m asking your opinion. As an expert. Do you think you can create an adoption profile album that will make the Stottlemeyers look appealing to a birth mother?”

  I squirmed. Rather than look Bonnie in the eyes, I chomped on a carrot I had in my hand. She wisely said nothing. She was waiting me out.

  “I have no idea what birth mothers find appealing. Or how they make their decisions.”

  Bonnie squared her shoulders and scowled at me. “You’ve done six of these albums. How will the Stottlemeyers’ album compare with the others you have done?”

  “I will do my best craftsmanship. I’ve found some lovely new—”

  “Let’s go in the back.” She sounded ticked off. We both put down our plates and headed for Dodie’s office.

  Once I’d closed the door, Bonnie turned to me. “Look. I may have made a mistake by sending her here. She needed the work done, and you’re the best. I’ve seen your albums, and the birth mothers have always responded positively. You seem to bring out the warmth of each couple and flesh them out on paper.”

  “I always appreciate the work. You know that.”

  She blew out a sigh and rubbed the back of her neck. She was wearing her after-work uniform, mom-jeans, a faded polo shirt, and running shoes. “Let me go about this another way. I can see this blowing up in both our faces. I’m worried.”

  I let down my guard. “I am, too. I owe you so much! But I’m not sure that I can work magic—and I don’t want to lie to you! I can’t and won’t fabricate a warm family that doesn’t exist. I told Bernice and I’ll remind you: I can only work with what she gives me.”

  “I know,” Bonnie said. “I really shouldn’t have gotten you involved, but I figured that if anyone could help them, it would be you.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I can only work with the photos I have.” I felt stupid repeating the same excuse over and over, but what other choice did I have?

  “Argh,” Bonnie groaned. “I wish the senior partner would have assigned them to someone else. Anyone else! But he said the he thought I could help the Stottlemeyers because I’m a mom. Can you believe that? If we weren’t a law firm, I’d consider suing for sexual discrimination.”

  “You know how he meant that. Right? He was hoping you have extra insight. That’s all.”

  “Right, but he didn’t consider that maybe the men in the firm wouldn’t have such strong feelings about parenthood as I do. I’m usually a lot more dispassionate when it comes to my clients, but Bernice has really gotten under my skin.”

  “So what can we do?” I decided to be proactive. “This is your job—and mine. They still have a right to want to adopt a child. In the end, it’s the birth mother’s decision, isn’t it?”

  “You’re absolutely right. It’s my job to give them their best shot—and your job, too. How about this: Would you go to the Stottlemeyers’ house and take photos of it and them?”

  Really? Go to their house? That was the last thing I wanted to do. I’d have to bath in anti-cootie gel for a month.

  But I wasn’t doing this for Bernice. I was doing it for Bonnie.

  “Sure,” I said. “Um, but I do have a question. How do you manage to overcome your gut on this? Although you haven’t said as much, I get the impression that you aren’t sure they’d be good parents.”

  “I didn’t say that. In fact, I can’t say that.”

  “No, but I can. So what’s the deal here? Why do they want a kid? I don’t see them walking the talk.”

  “Due to attorney-client privilege, I can’t say more.” She lifted her chin and stared straight ahead as if she were in court giving testimony. Her whole body went rigid.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  After a minute, she said, “This is the way my job works, Kiki, and it puts food on the table. I am obligated to do my best for our clients, no matter what I feel toward them personally. It’s not up to me to vet them. That’s up to the adoption agency.”

  “Well, Bernice might be different when she’s with the birth mom, but she sure doesn’t strike me as the warm and fuzzy type.”

  “That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t make a good mom,” said Bonnie. “You never know about these things. How she acts toward you is not indicative of how she would act toward her own child.”

  Bonnie was right. I always marveled at the way peoples’ voices changed when they ans
wered a call from family. Especially from their kids. Even the toughest cookie on the baking sheet would soften up. There was nothing else to do, but resign myself to helping Bonnie by helping the Stottlemeyers. “Regardless, of whether she’s a worthy candidate or not, rest assured that I’ll do my best to portray her in the best possible light.”

  “Your best might not be good enough.”

  That stung. I sank down into Dodie’s big office chair. “Not be good enough?”

  “You know exactly what I mean,” she rubbed that spot on the back of her neck with more gusto. “This isn’t about you, Kiki. I’m between a rock and a hard place. Your hard work can’t compensate for everything. Off the record? I’ve never worked with less appealing mother material than Bernice Stottlemeyer. But don’t you ever, ever repeat what I said.”

  Chapter 34

  Bonnie and I decided that I should send a text-message to Bernice Stottlemeyer explaining that I still needed candid photos of her and her husband in their home to complete the album. I showed the text message to Bonnie, who helped me write it. Then I hit “send.”

  Bernice responded by sending a message to Bonnie asking if I were an idiot.

  Bonnie sent Bernice a text-message explaining that she’d seen the album, and she agreed with me about what it needed. She further explained that she (Bonnie) was here for a crop and had asked me (Kiki) to show her (Bonnie) how the job was going.

  How’s that for confusing?

  After a brief pause, Bernice agreed to let me come to their house. Of course, she chose a totally inconvenient time for me. I could have thirty minutes of their time the next morning, between eight-thirty and nine.

  I showed the text-message to Bonnie who gave me a thumbs-up.

  “I don’t have their address,” I said. “Do you?”

  Bonnie grabbed a sticky note and a pen from the dispenser on the desk.

  When I saw the address, I nearly fell off my chair. The Stottlemeyers lived around the corner from the house I’d built with my late husband George.

  I took care not to let Bonnie see how uncomfortable this made me. I’d told her I’d take care of the photos and, by golly, I would. But she would never ever know how hard this assignment was. Particularly right now when I was so hormonal.

  With a quick glance at the office clock, I suggested we needed to rejoin the croppers lest I appear rude.

  The crop ended as crops do, with some people rushing out the door and others lining up to buy merchandise. Bonnie thanked me profusely for my extra effort regarding the adoption album.

  I continued at the cash register, making small talk, and trying not to show my feelings. Seeing my old home would just about kill me. George and I had worked hard together on those plans. In the end, the house was more his than mine because he called in a professional decorator, whereas I’m so much more of a do-it-yourself type of girl. But still, it had been the place where we’d raised Anya for the first eleven years of her life. I had strong attachments to it. Going back and taking photos of a house around the block would be tough on me.

  But there was nothing to it but to do it. I was the owner of a business. Well, almost. And I’d given my word.

  After the last customer left, Cara kept a look-out from the back door as Anya took Gracie out for a piddle. I did a quick survey of the sales floor, checking for stray merchandise and noting spots that needed filling. That done, I took the change from the cash register, counted out the fifty bucks we open with, and zipped the rest of the money into a bank deposit bag. Even without looking at the detail tape, I knew that the crop had gone well. The shelf units had already been rolled back to their usual spots, so everything looked to be in order. I took a few minutes to straighten a row of pots of glitter, shiny bits of plastic that add so much fun to every layout.

  After putting Gracie in her pen, Anya helped Cara clean the food service items. When they were finished, I had two containers to take home, one of pasta and one of salad. There was also a half a pan of tiramisu in the refrigerator. I turned off all the lights, except for those in our display windows and headed to the back door.

  Cara walked with us to my car. Anya and Gracie followed along behind.

  “What’s happening tomorrow?” asked my friend. “I noticed the hard hats.”

  “We’re knocking down that wall,” said Anya, with more than a little pride in her voice.

  “Wow,” said Cara. “That’s really cool. I love big projects like that. Kiki, what’s on your agenda?”

  “I want to work on Sheila’s wedding album. She’s pretty upset about the murder investigation.”

  Cara leaned against her Black Beauty and nodded at me. “I can imagine.”

  “And I have an adoption profile album to work on.”

  “What’s your day like tomorrow, Cara?” I asked.

  “Same-old, same-old. Tommy and I are trying to get his stuff sorted and packed so he’s ready for college. Take note, Miss Anya, that’ll be you someday soon.”

  “Nope,” said my daughter. “I’m not going away to school. I’m going to stay right here. I’m never leaving my mom.”

  My heart fluttered in my chest. I was glad she loved me so much, but I hoped when the time came, my little girl would feel free to go away to school, if that was what was best for her.

  Chapter 35

  “Hello, babe. How’re you? How’s Anya?” The deep voice of Detective Chad Detweiler never failed to bring a smile to my lips. Even when he was far away, like now, he made me happy.

  “She’s sound asleep. It’s been a long day. Better yet, how are you? And how’s Erik?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “What?”

  Bit by bit he told me about his meeting with Lorraine Lauber. Their lunch had lasted longer than expected, so Detweiler hadn’t had the chance to see Erik. By way of explanation, he read to me the letter that Gina had left behind.

  “So, he’s not your biological son.”

  “No.”

  “But he doesn’t have a home.”

  “No.”

  “And Gina wanted you to raise him.”

  “Yes.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I needed to hear the facts once more. This whole…mess…was just inconceivable. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to scream.

  My first thought: It takes a lot of nerve to cheat on your husband and then ask him to raise your bastard child.

  My second thought: It’s not Erik’s fault.

  My third thought: If I died tomorrow, I’d want Detweiler to raise Anya. He’d do a great job of it.

  Maybe great minds do think alike. Maybe if I’d been in Gina’s shoes, I’d have made the same choices.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked Detweiler.

  “I was hoping to hear what you are thinking.”

  “No,” I said. “You first.”

  His voice took on a raspy quality as he said, “I’m not sure what to think. One minute I find myself thinking I’d like to wring Gina’s neck. The next, I feel sorry for her. I guess when Trevon died, she thought she might be in danger. After all, he was investigating an, um, situation. Just because I didn’t realize they were lovers doesn’t mean that other officers on the force didn’t know.”

  Wow. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. First Gina leaves him, and now he discovers she was cheating on him but wants him to raise her son? It was outrageous.

  “What did Miss Lauber say? Was she aware of the contents of Gina’s note?”

  “Yes. She said she’s sorry that she couldn’t tell me this over the phone. That she resorted to subterfuge to get me out here.”

  I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Anything else?”

  “She wanted me to give this some thought. With the traffic and the timing of our lunch, I missed my chance to meet him today. But I suspect that was her plan all along, because she thought I should consider things carefully. She urged me to see Erik before I make a final decision, but she hasn’t told to him that he migh
t come home with me. She did tell him he might get to meet his new sister, but otherwise, nothing about moving away. Or leaving her. Obviously, she kept all her options open and left the details sketchy.”

  “That was decent of her,” I said with a snort of derision.

  “She’s a nice woman, Kiki. You’d like her. Remember, she’s not responsible for this mess either.”

  This whole “mess” sounded like torture for Detweiler. Here he was on the brink of being united with the son he’d never met, and then he got the rug pulled out from under him. Oops. That dream you had? Consider it cancelled, buddy. You’ve been tricked.

  Except…

  “Well,” I said, “there is good news on the horizon. You’re going to have a son.”

  “If I decide to bring Erik home with me.”

  “No, I mean the sonogram. The tech is pretty sure I’m having a boy.”

  A whoop of joy went up from his end of the phone.

  “Hot dog! Can you believe it?”

  “Now these things are never one hundred percent certain,” I cautioned him.

  But he was having none of it. “Kiki. What would I do without you?”

  “You’ll never have to find out, my love.

  Chapter 36

  “The long and short of it is that Erik needs a home,” I said, while talking into the phone and rubbing Gracie’s silky ears. Martin, our yellow cat, padded out of Anya’s room and hopped into my lap.

  “And Gina trusted me to take care of her son. Sort of like being a guardian. Except most people get asked before they accept the job. Even when people leave you their pets, they usually give you a heads up first.”

  That analogy tickled me. I knew how much he loved Gracie, so it wasn’t a big stretch. “I’ll support you no matter what you decide.”

  “I thought you’d say that. In fact, I would have bet money that you would.” He went silent.

  I didn’t need to remind him that this was a long term commitment. Nor would I mention that the boy might have a hard time adjusting. Erik would be caught between the twin challenges of grief and new surroundings. About the time he would adjust to those, we’d be adding a new baby to the mix.