by Nan Sampson
Kate just smiled at her then returned to looking in the file folder. “Some of these will do nicely. We can put together a lovely memory board.” She flipped through the typed pages. “Look, here’s all the information on her family.” She ran a manicured fingernail down the page. "Here, see? Her mom's name, her dad. Yeah. Old addresses, well, we know that property was sold after her mom passed away. Her grade school info – jeez, I'd forgotten she'd gone to private school.”
"I don't see anything about any other relatives."
"Let me look.” She flipped through the pages, but came up empty. “No, nothing. Oh, Ellie, she had no one. No one but us.
Ellie gave her friend a squeeze. “We’ll do right by her.”
Kate gazed over at her, sighed. “Will we?”
Oh Goddess. Hadn’t she just made up her mind to cremate Lacey and go home? To let the cops handle - or not handle - the investigation into Lacey’s death?
One look at Kate’s face, and she knew what she had to do. No matter what the outcome, she had to keep trying. “Yes, Kate. I promise. We will.”
Once on her way, she pulled out her cell phone again, this time dialing Marg. She'd be closing up about now, and it was a good point in the day to see how the Saturday rush had gone.
The phone rang six times before it was answered, and not by Marg.
"Arabella?"
"Hey, Ellie! How are things down in the big city?" And then her tone changed. "I'm sorry to hear about your friend. Per told us what happened."
"Thanks. Uh, where's Marg?"
"Oh, she's in the back, cleaning up. Things got a little crazy in here today. A couple a' tourist buses pulled into town about 10 am, so she called me to come help her out. It was slow at the Inn, and Chloe's really starting to step up helping there."
"Is everything okay?"
"Oh, great! Had a banner day. Now don't you worry. Everything here is under control. You just take the time you need down there."
"Thanks. Listen, could I talk to Marg?"
"Oh! Oh, sure, sweetie. Here, hang on." The phone receiver clattered onto the counter and she heard Arabella stomping off towards the kitchen as she hollered for her sister-in-law. "Marg! It's Ellie!"
There was some muttering in the background Ellie couldn't make out and then some more stomping. Finally, the phone receiver scraped against the counter again and Marg came on the line. "Hey, doll face. I was so sorry to hear about your friend. How are things going down there?"
"Okay, I guess. I was more concerned with how things were going up there."
"Oh, we're all fine here. Mrs. Kornbeck's pig got loose again – you know that horrible pot-bellied thing? Running down Main Street right during the middle of the lunch rush, scared half the tourists out of their silly minds. Most of us locals just sat and laughed – well, not in earshot of course. You should have seen it. They could have made a movie out of it. In fact, I think one of the Kleins got video of it on their cell phone. Probably be posted on Youtube by tonight if you want to take a look."
"No, Marg. I meant, how are things at the shop. I heard you had a busy day."
"Lord, yes. I had to call Arabella to help out. Couldn't do the baking, make the drinks and run the register with all those silly women asking for half this half that soy, skim whatevers. But you'll love the receipts! It's gonna be a good month, Ellie."
"Well, at least something will be good."
"So do you know when and where the funeral will be? We were talking here and we'd like to send an arrangement, if that's appropriate."
"I don't know anything just yet." She swore as she slammed on the brakes. "Damn fool! That light was red!"
"You driving?"
"Yeah. I'm going to get dinner for the clan. Some idiot just turned left on a red light, nearly hit me."
"You better get off the phone, you'll get killed. Look, you just let us know where and when, so we can send something."
"Thanks. I will." She was reluctant to break the connection. Goddess, she wanted to be back home. "Hey, Marg, you call me if you need anything."
She could hear Marg smiling. "I will. But I won't. You do the same, honey. Even if you just need to talk, okay?"
"Thanks. I just wish it were all over."
"I know. That's how I felt when my Albert died." Albert as in her Scottie, not the husband whose 'lazy ass' as she put it, she'd divorced. "You take care."
"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Whenever. Night."
She pressed the off button, feeling like she was turning off her lifeline. But there was no going home until they'd at least figured out how to get access to Lacey's remains.
She turned on the radio, found a decent classic rock station. They were playing "Smooth", by Carlos Santana. Man, she'd loved that song and listening to it, she couldn't help smiling as she sang along. But songs were time machines, and this one was a Delorean to the past. As the snow began to fall again, sticking to the damp pavement, she remembered...
...sitting in the front seat of her father’s vintage 1962 baby blue Thunderbird convertible with Santana playing on the radio, letting the wind whip her auburn curls and grinning like a fool at her reflection in the visor mirror at her brand new Ray Ban Wayfarer sunglasses. They were out in the cornfields west of Rockford, flying along at almost ninety miles an hour down a stretch of two lane road, the only witnesses to their speed the occasional huddle of cows. The sun was just two fingers above the horizon, the air still dewy and fresh. They were headed towards Galena, a small town near the both the Wisconsin and Iowa border for a weekend. Her mother and Aunt Tabitha had left the day before. Ellie and her father, trying to avoid the inevitable Buchanan Girl Gabfest that happened when Ellie’s mother Serena and her sister got together, had opted to drive up separately Saturday morning.
They crested a hill and Ellie grinned even more broadly as her father downshifted and pulled the car off onto the side of the road. Without being told, Ellie hopped out of the passenger side and grabbed the picnic basket from the back seat. Her father grabbed a small cooler and the two set off across a field to their favorite tree – a huge old chestnut.
Flopping down in the grass, Ellie opened the picnic basket and rummaged around for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and her father’s tuna salad while he popped the top on a couple of sodas. They settled back against the tree under the leafy boughs and munched their unorthodox breakfast, perfectly content.
After a moment, her father broke the silence. “Do you suppose they’ve had the first argument of the morning yet?”
Ellie snorted. “Probably. I imagine Mom wanted to go out early to do something and Aunt Tabby wouldn’t get out of bed.”
Her father chuckled. “We could get a flat tire, you know. We’d have to walk hours to a farm house to use their phone, then have to walk back and wait for the tow truck...”
“Mom would never buy it. She always knows when you’re lying.” She shot her father a grin. “But nice try.”
He shrugged, took a long swig of his soda. “Yeah. And with you going off to school next year, I don’t imagine there’ll be too many more of these little weekend jaunts with family.”
“Aw, come on, Dad. I’ll be around lots.”
His smile was wistful. “Maybe. Things are going to be changing for you now, Elspeth, and changing fast.”
“Dad. I’m just going to college – not Nigeria. I’m not even leaving the state.”
“Doesn’t matter how many miles you go, honey, it’s the distance of experience. You’re just starting your life. For real. No more play acting and dress rehearsals. You’ll be meeting new people, doing new things, figuring out the path you want to walk.” He raised his hand as she started to interject. “And that’s how it should be. Your mom and I, we’ve worked hard to give you the foundations, and to give you space to explore. These next few years is when all of that will come together for you.” He leaned over, gave her a side hug. “We’re very proud of you, you know. We can’t wait to see where life ta
kes you.”
She looked away, not wanting him to see the tears that pricked her eyes. “Thanks, Dad. You guys have always been awesome. I just wish I had a clue...”
“About what?”
“About what I want to do.”
“I thought you’d decided on a business major.”
“Yeah.”
“But...”
“I don’t know. What if I don’t like it?”
He laughed. “Then you change! There’s no rule that says you can’t.” He hugged her again. “Just look how many careers your Aunt Tabitha’s had.”
“Dad, Tabby’s a flake.”
“No, not a flake, honey. She is just... ever-evolving.” He shook his head. “Tabitha is like a butterfly.”
“What does that make mom?”
A soft look came over her father’s face. “Your mother is...” He paused, then shook his head. “Well, if I’m to stick with the insect analogy, then your mother is a honey bee. Steadfast and focused on her purpose.”
“Yeah, focused like a laser beam.”
Max Gooden grinned. “She gets things done, that’s for sure. But she’s also one of the warmest and most giving human beings on the planet.”
Ellie smiled. “Yes, yes she is. I’m lucky to have both of you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
She was hoping he’d say they needed to head back to the car, but clearly he was not done yet.
He turned to face her, eyes serious. “You know how we’ve always stressed getting involved, volunteering, doing your part?”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t remember the last Sunday dinner they’d spent at home rather than volunteering at a homeless shelter. They did it as a family, and despite the fact that Ellie wasn’t enamored of crowds, it had become a fun weekend outing and the regulars that she saw there each week had become a sort of family too.
“Well, if there’s one thing I want you to take with you as you move forward, it’s that the world, your life, it’s never really entirely about you.”
She tried not to roll her eyes. Here it came, the hippie speech. She repressed a smile.
“Get involved,” he told her. “I know you are more naturally a loner, but you don’t have to join a movement with a hundred other people to make a difference. Be the voice of those who can’t speak for themselves. You don’t have to be everybody’s friend, but for those you choose, be the best friend you know how to be.”
“Dad, I know all that. You’ve taught me that.”
He took her hand in his. “I know, I know. I just... honey, I won’t be here forever. Your mom and I came to parenting late in the game and--“
Her throat closed. “Dad, you’re not sick, are you?”
His expressions lightened. “No, no, honey, not at all. I just... you don’t have much in the way of family. You’re an only child. And other than your Aunt Tabitha and your gran, when your mom and I pass – many, many years down the road – you’ll be alone. I want you to have a tribe by then. People who care about you, love you. People you can turn to. And to find that tribe, you need to get out of yourself a bit.”
Oh lord. Was he talking about boys? “I do not need a boyfriend, Dad.”
Now he belly-laughed. “Not what I was talking about. Not anything I even want to hear about. No, honey, I’m talking about friends. Your tribe. The people who will get you and accept you for who you are.”
She shook her head. She had friends. Not a lot, but enough. “I’ll be fine, Dad. And I’ll remember to give back. Really. Promise.” She refrained from saying, “Are we done now?”.
He patted her hand. “Right.” He pointed to the hamper. “Did you remember to pack the rice crispy treats?”
Grinning she reached back into the hamper and pulled out two enormous treats, each in its own plastic bag. “I cut them extra big. That way, when mom asks, we can honestly say we only ate one a piece.”
“Ah, there’s my clever girl.”
In her mind’s eye, she could still clearly see her father’s smiling face, the way his deep blue eyes sparkled in the morning sun. But right now, the sun wasn’t shining and her father was no longer around to smile. Had he known, she wondered, had some kind of intuition that he only had a few years left?
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, refusing to give in to tears again.
At least she’d found her tribe. He’d have been pleased about that. She wished both he and her mother had lived long enough to meet them – but then, if they hadn’t died, she might never have made the move to Horizon.
That twisty line of thought made her head ache. Pushing all of it aside – including the Divine reminder about loyalty and friendship and the karmic burden she knew she now carried – she returned her attention to the road and the lunatics who occupied it.
Chapter 19
The snow was falling thickly when she got back. She struggled out of the car, her arms full of sacks and drink carriers. She even had a white sack clenched between her teeth and the greasy aroma of French fried onion rings was almost overpowering. The driveway was covered in slush, forcing her to walk slowly and carefully to avoid slipping.
She didn't see Charlie waiting on the porch, but suddenly someone grabbed the drink carriers from her hands, with a gruff, "here, let me", and she relinquished them without a feminist backward glance.
He held the door for her with his foot then tromped in behind her, making a show of wiping his boots on the front hall rug.
"I've got news for you, Gooden."
She made her way into the kitchen and plopped the bags onto the counter. "And what's that?" Where the hell did the paper plates go to? Kate had rearranged the cabinets since she'd last visited, and nothing was logically where Ellie would have put it.
After setting down the drinks carriers, he tossed a flat, new manila file folder onto the counter in front of her. "Lacey’s body is ready to be released. In there you’ll find the forms you need to fill out and sign. You just need to tell them which funeral home you need the body sent to. If you can fill it in tonight, I can take it down to the M.E.'s office tomorrow and they can have the body transferred on Monday."
Ellie paused in her ransacking of the cupboards and picked up the file folder. "Wow. Thanks, Charlie." She met his eyes, which still smoldered with subdued anger. “How’d you get them to do this on a Saturday?”
"I have contacts there. I'm a PI, Ellie, it's what I do." He scrubbed long fingers through his curls and when he spoke again, his tone softened - he appeared incapable of staying angry for long - and his grin was back. "Let’s just say one of the morgue assistants likes my smile. Add in a dose of not wanting to violate ‘religious strictures’, and bing bang boom, I got you the release.”
She rolled her eyes but there was genuine gratitude in her voice. “Thank you. Really."
"You're welcome." In those few words, he had not only accepted her thanks, but the unspoken apology as well. He nodded toward the bags. "Anything in there for me?"
"Uh... didn't really know when you'd be back, so... no."
"Then I guess we'll be splitting yours."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you think so?"
"Yeah. I do. You owe me. So what is it we're having?"
"A veggie burger with cheese and all the fixins' including avocado, some fried mushrooms, and some jalapeno poppers."
"Ah, now that's what I call good nutrition. But no shake?"
She grinned and gestured at the drink carrier. "One extra-large strawberry shake, but that I won't share. You'll have to cadge one of those from someone else."
He watched her for a moment then wandered over to the pantry and reached inside. "Here." He handed her a stack of paper plates. "The napkins are now in the drawer with the silverware."
"Which is...?"
"In the side of the kitchen table, of course."
She glanced over, peered under the lip of the trestle table. Sure enough, there was a knob there. "Of course. Who'da thunk it?"
She grabbed s
ome napkins, set the food out on the plates, then hollered, "Foods on, come and get it!" up the stairs.
Grabbing her own stuff before the mob descended on the kitchen, she let Charlie follow her into the sun room and sat down at the game table. "So what religious strictures are we in danger of violating?" She looked up at him as she handed him half her sandwich. "You didn't tell them we were Wiccan."
"No. No, Lacey's family is Jewish. I made claim that she had become more orthodox and that it was necessary to complete her final disposition as quickly as possible in accordance with her wishes."
"But Charlie, that's not true."
"What's not true? I didn't say she had become more Orthodox Jewish. Just that she had become more "orthodox". They filled in the Jewish all by themselves. And I didn't say we wanted to bury her quickly, only that we needed to arrange for her final disposition. So see? No lies."
She shook her head then took a bit of her burger. "It still doesn't feel right, but at least we can make arrangements now and at some point I can get home. I shudder to think what's really happening at The Sacred Caff."
"Haven't you checked in?"
"Yeah, but I don't believe the story I'm getting. According to Arabella, everything's just fine."
"You don't trust Arabella?"
"No, I trust her... I just think maybe she's... oh, I don't know. Marg isn't good under stress."
Charlie spoke around a mouthful of burger. "Marg seemed perfectly competent when I met her last spring, and Arabella runs a B&B with anal-retentive efficiency. I don't see the problem."
"It's just, Marg... you just don't know her like I do."
He popped a mushroom in his mouth. "I don't think that's it. I think the problem is that you're a giant control freak and you don't feel in control when you're not there."
"Now who's the pot calling the kettle black?"
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Do you deny being a control freak?"
"No. No, I don't. But that's only part of why I feel like I need to get back to my shop."