by Kelly, Sofie
I was hooked at the first sentence. The language was raw and compelling and when I got to the end I wanted to jump up and cheer for the teenager I didn’t even know.
“Wow,” I said to Hercules. He meowed softly in agreement. Then he batted a paw at the keyboard, clicking on a link to another article.
“Paws off the keys, fur ball,” I said. He was staring at the screen almost as though he was reading and ignored me.
I glanced at the link he’d taken us to and about halfway down the page I saw Hannah’s name. I looked at Hercules. “How did you do that?” He was still intent on the screen. I didn’t even get a whisker twitch.
This article was about the stage play, inspired by the article that had won the grand prize. The stage play Hannah was up for a role in and Hugh had wanted to direct. But Hannah had a closer connection than that. She was a volunteer with the program. She’d been the one to urge the teenage writer to put her story down on paper and enter the contest.
I leaned against the chair back and curled one arm around Hercules. He turned his head to look at me. “This means something,” I said. “I just don’t know what.”
He made a face, wrinkling up his nose. I wondered what he knew that I didn’t.
• • •
I was up early the next morning. I scrubbed the bathroom, vacuumed up the cat hair and started a pot of split pea soup with ham in the slow cooker. Then I walked around the house, trailed by Owen, and wondering what it would look like to my mother. It was home, I realized, just as much as Boston was. Maggie, Roma, Rebecca, the Taylors, Susan and Eric—they were my family, too. I wasn’t exactly sure what Marcus was.
I looked at the picture my mom had sent to me just a couple of weeks ago. I’d hung it behind the big chair in the living room. It was a drawing of a tiny cottage, with two cats sitting on the front steps and the caption “Home is anywhere you are.” I got a lump in my throat looking at it. It was Mom’s way of saying she would support whatever choice I made. I knew that it had to be hard for her not to tell me to come back to Boston.
“As long as you’re happy, I’ll be happy, Katydid,” she’d said to me more than once on the phone.
I scooped Owen up in my arms. “Why does it have to be so complicated?” I asked.
He licked my chin. If he had an answer, he wasn’t sharing it.
I’d calculated that it would be late afternoon before Ben got back from the airport in Minneapolis with Mom. Still, I couldn’t seem to stop looking at the clock as the arrival time for her flight came and passed. I pictured her walking to baggage claim, finding Ben, heading to the car. Did Ben drive the speed limit? Go faster? Or slower?
I passed the checkout desk and Mary called my name. “Kathleen, go upstairs and make some coffee,” she said. “Everything’s fine down here.”
I shook my head. “Thanks, Mary, but I don’t really feel like a cup right now.”
She put her hands on her hips and frowned at me. “Well, I do. You’re making me crazy walking in circles, not to mention you’re going to wear out all those little tiles Vincent Gallo and his boys worked so hard to replace.”
I rubbed the space between my eyes with two fingers. “I’m sorry. I feel as if time has somehow slowed down today.”
“‘We are time’s subjects,’” a voice said behind me.
I turned around to see my mother standing just inside the door, smiling at me. She was the only person I knew who could quote a line or two from Shakespeare in the middle of a conversation and not sound pretentious.
“‘And time bids begone,’” I said, grinning back at her. I didn’t give her a chance to quote anything else from Henry IV, though. I crossed the few feet between us and threw my arms around her. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
She smelled like lavender and she didn’t look like she’d spent close to four hours on a plane and more than another hour in a car. She was wearing black trousers, a soft cloud gray sweater with a wide, flat collar and heels. Her silver hair was a bit shorter, chin length. If anything, it made her look younger.
“I’m so glad I’m here, too,” she said. She pulled out of the hug, kept her arm around my shoulders and looked around. “Oh, sweetie, this is even better than the photos.”
She caught sight of Mary then and smiled. “You must be Mary,” she said, walking over to the desk and offering her hand. “I’m Thea Paulson.”
They shook hands, Mary smiling back. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All of it good, of course,” Mom said, a sly look in her eye.
Susan was coming from the stacks with an empty book cart. Mary made the introductions. I heard my mother ask a question about the building and I knew that within five minutes she’d have its history and a fair amount of Mary’s and Susan’s as well.
I turned to Ben. “Thank you for picking her up.”
He shook his head. “The pleasure was truly mine. I can’t tell you how glad I am she agreed to come.”
“Me too,” I said.
Abigail breezed through the door then.
“Hi,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to fill in for you so you can take your mom home.” She held up a hand. “Don’t even think about arguing with me.”
I held out both hands. “Okay, I won’t.”
I introduced Abigail to Mom and she was immediately pulled into the conversation with Susan and Mary. I’d given Ben my keys so he could put Mom’s suitcase in the truck. “I’m just going up to my office to get my things,” I said.
“Could I see your office before we go?” she asked.
“Of course,” Susan said. She had a pink plastic cocktail fork stuck in her updo. I was never quite sure if the odd things she used to secure her hair were her way of thumbing her nose at convention or if she really did just grab the first thing she saw on any given morning.
“Kathleen has a beautiful view of the water and of course the gazebo that’s at the back,” Mary said.
“You have a gazebo?” Mom said.
Abigail nodded. “One of the performances is going to take place out there.”
Mom’s eyes lit up. “What a wonderful idea! I love performing outside. John and I did Bard in the Park last year. How big is this gazebo?”
“It’s about, what, twelve feet across?” Abigail looked at Mary for confirmation.
“Fifteen,” I said.
“Small, but not impossible to use as a stage,” my mother said. “Could I take a peek at it?”
Susan nodded. “Like Mary said, you can see the gazebo from Kathleen’s office.”
“Splendid,” Mom said. “Let’s go take a look.”
They all moved toward the stairs.
I cleared my throat. “Someone has to stay at the desk,” I said.
Mary shook her head. “I’ll stay.” She leaned forward and smiled at Mom. “It was wonderful to finally meet you, Thea.”
“You too, Mary,” Mom said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “As soon as I get my schedule sorted out I’ll call you and we’ll have tea.”
“Looking forward to that,” Mary said. She brushed past me on her way to the checkout desk. “I like her,” she said softly as she went by.
Susan and Abigail gave Mom a quick tour of the second level and showed her the gazebo from my office window. I gathered my briefcase and jacket and only managed to steal her away from them by promising to bring her back the first time she was free.
“I like your library and I like your staff,” she said as she settled on the passenger side of the truck. Her carry-on was at her feet and her suitcase was in the bed of the truck, covered with a tarp because it was spitting rain.
“You cut your hair,” I said as we drove up the hill.
“What do you think? It was the executive producer’s idea.”
“I like it.”
“I’m supposed to look rich and ruthless,” she said with a laugh. “When I e-mailed your father a photo, he said I looke
d like Helen Mirren.”
I shot her another quick look. She actually did look a bit like the British actress. They had the same hair now and the same beautiful posture. “Maybe a little,” I said.
She brushed a bit of lint off her sweater. I hoped it wasn’t cat hair. “He’s just trying to charm me into doing a British accent. He’s always thought a British accent is sexy.”
I shook my head. “Way, way more information than I need to have.”
She laughed and the sound filled the truck.
I smiled at her. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too, Katydid,” she said.
Owen and Hercules were waiting for us in the kitchen. Mom walked over to them, stopping a couple of feet in front of them. “Hello,” she said. Both cats eyed her, whiskers twitching.
“Merow,” Owen finally said.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” Mom said. “You’re even more handsome than your pictures.”
Owen knew what the word “handsome” meant. He did his I’m-so-modest head dip, watching her with one golden eye.
“And, Hercules, you look like you put on your best tuxedo to welcome me. Very dashing.”
Hercules wasn’t immune to compliments, either. He sat up a little straighter and gave Mom a look of kitty affection.
“What would you like first?” I said. “A bath or a cup of tea?”
She straightened up and stretched. “Oh, sweetie, a cup of tea would be wonderful.”
I reached for the kettle.
“Is it all right if I look around?” she asked. “I do like your house.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
She headed to the living room with Owen and Hercules right beside her. I put tea bags in the little china pot I always kept for Maggie and set a couple of Rebecca’s blueberry muffins on a plate. By the time Mom came back to the kitchen the tea was ready and I’d made a cup of cocoa for myself.
She sank into the chair opposite me and reached for her cup. “Umm,” she said after taking a sip. “That’s lovely tea.”
“It’s Maggie’s favorite, so I keep some in the house,” I said.
“When do I get to meet Maggie?”
“Probably tomorrow. She’s in Minneapolis at a meeting.” I reached for one of the blueberry muffins. “What time are you meeting Ben in the morning?”
Mom pulled up one leg and tucked it underneath her. “Eight thirty. That’s almost civilized compared to the time I have been getting up.”
“We could ask Maggie to join us for breakfast,” I said.
“Yes,” Mom said, putting the other muffin on her plate.
I got up and went to the cupboard for the small bottle of orange marmalade I’d gotten for Mom from the Jam Lady. I gave her the jar and watched her unscrew the lid, put a dab on her plate with her knife and then take a tiny taste with one finger. She reminded me of Owen. He and his brother were sitting between my chair and Mom’s, probably hoping one of us would drop something.
Mom took another taste of the marmalade. “This is good,” she said. “Where did you get it?”
I sat back down. “There’s a woman who lives farther out this road called the Jam Lady. She made it.”
She smeared a thick layer of marmalade on half her muffin and took a bite. “Tell me about Hugh Davis. You didn’t say much and when I talked to Abigail on the phone, I noticed she very skillfully changed the subject. So did Ben, for that matter.”
I picked up my mug and threaded my fingers around it. “He was shot.”
“Shot? What happened? Was it some kind of robbery?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “He was shot down by the marina. There’s a lookout by the water.” I set my hot chocolate down on the table again. “There’s something I didn’t tell you on the phone.”
“Let me guess,” she said. “You found Hugh’s body.”
“Actually, I did,” I said. “But that wasn’t what I need to tell you.” I took a breath and let it out. “Andrew’s here.”
She frowned and put down the piece of muffin she’d been holding. “Andrew? Your Andrew?”
“He’s not my Andrew anymore, but yes.”
“Why?”
I folded my arms over my chest. “He wants me to come back to Boston when my contract here ends and give us another chance.”
“And you said?”
“I said no.” I glanced down at Hercules and Owen. The bag of sardine crackers was on the counter. I leaned sideways, snagged it with a couple of fingers and gave each of them two crackers. “I care about Andrew,” I said, straightening up and brushing off my fingers. “But I’m not getting back together with him. I’ve changed.”
“I know you have,” she said, adding a little more tea to her cup. “And Andrew’s not Detective Gordon.”
“What?” I said. I could feel my face getting red. I’d told Mom about feeding the cats with Marcus, but I hadn’t said anything else.
“Remember the pictures you brought when you came home?”
“I remember.” Ethan had teased me because I’d printed copies of the photos instead of just showing them on my phone.
“There was one of the detective. Whenever you were showing the pictures to someone, when you got to that one of him, you smiled. I don’t even think you know you did it, sweetie, but you did.” She leaned forward and smiled at me. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”
I shook my head. “No, there isn’t. We had dinner a few times, but Marcus is a police officer.” I sighed. “And that just keeps getting in the way.”
She put her hand on mine and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you sure you can’t find a way around it?”
“I don’t think so. Marcus can be pretty black and white about some things.”
She put a hand up to her mouth, but I could still see the smile.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
She laughed, shaking her head. “Sweetie, you can be pretty black and white about certain things, too. Detective Gordon sounds like he’s perfect for you.”
“I’m not rigid about things.”
“Really?” Her eyes were sparkling. She picked up her teacup. “All right. I’m not going to argue with you.” She took a sip from her cup. “Could we change places?”
“Why? Is something wrong?” I said.
“The light coming through the door makes me squint.” She patted her cheeks. “I don’t need any more wrinkles. HD already makes me look like I’m ninety.”
I pulled out the chair to my left. “You can sit here.”
She gestured at me. “You just scoot over and I’ll sit at your place. It’s easier.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “I know what you’re doing,” I said.
“What am I doing?”
“You’re trying to show me that I can be stubborn and rigid because I don’t want to switch seats with you.”
“So slide over,” she said, making a move like she was going to get up.
I got my cup and moved to the chair beside me.
Mom smiled and sipped her tea.
“So are you going to sit there or not?”
She shook her head. “No. I think I’m going to sit here after all.”
She put more marmalade on another bite of muffin and popped it in her mouth.
I shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable. It shouldn’t have been a problem. All four chairs were exactly the same, but this one didn’t feel right. I moved back to where I’d been sitting. “This doesn’t prove you were right,” I said.
“Of course not,” she said solemnly.
“Tell me what you know about Hugh Davis,” I said, mostly to change the subject.
Mom yawned and stretched. She reminded me of the cats. Owen was leaning against my leg now, while Hercules was still watching my mother with interest. “I’d heard his name, but I really didn’t know anything about him, so after I talked to you I made a few phone calls.”
“And?”
> “And he was a decent enough director, although he hadn’t done much that was significant in the last year and a half.”
That would explain why he’d been pushing Hannah so hard.
“Do you know why?” I asked.
Mom set her cup down. “He may have been a decent director, but it appears he wasn’t a decent person.”
“Not a decent person how?” I asked. “Did he drink too much? Cheat on his taxes?”
She shook her head. “I heard from an unimpeachable source that he pushed one of his leading ladies so hard she started cutting herself and another ended up having some kind of breakdown.”
“Wait a minute. Did Ben know that?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “At first all anyone would say was that Hugh could be ‘challenging.’ That can mean anything from ‘he throws things in rehearsal’ to ‘he likes to wear frilly undies.’”
I pulled both feet up under me. “Those are pretty serious accusations. Are you sure your source is accurate?”
“Very.”
I blew out a breath. “Do you know who the two actresses were?”
She poured the last of the tea into her cup. “That I don’t know. But it strikes me that they’d have family and friends. If someone treated you that badly, I don’t know what I’d do.” She smothered another yawn.
“How about you go fill the tub full of hot water while I make you a fresh pot of tea?” I said, getting to my feet.
“Umm, that does sound good.” She stood up as well and wrapped me in a warm hug. “I’m so glad I decided to come, Katydid.”
“Me too,” I said.
I put the kettle on to boil again and took Mom up to her room. When the tea was ready I poured a cup and took it up to her. She’d already put on a fuzzy yellow robe and taken off her makeup. With her face scrubbed clean and her hair pulled back in a messy bun, she looked more like she was my older sister than my mother.
“Take your time,” I said, kissing her cheek.
I went back to the kitchen and started clearing the table. Owen was sniffing Mom’s purse, which she’d left on the floor next to her chair. “There’s nothing in that for you, nosy,” I said. One ear twitched, but that was the only indication I got that he’d heard me.