by Hillary Avis
Theo nodded, his expression careful. “No, you’re right. I don’t know why I said that. I’m sure the food can wait a few more minutes while the kids play with Officer Lee.”
“Oh, the food! Shoot, I should go make sure I haven’t burned the casserole to a crisp!” Shadi dashed back to the kitchen, and Theo sagged against the wall.
“Why didn’t you turn me in?” he asked, shaking his head disbelievingly. “Is it because you want the money? There isn’t much left after all the moving expenses and transplant costs.”
Allison laughed. “No! I don’t want the money.”
“Then you want me to return it, right? To Gertrude Winter’s family?”
Allison shook her head. Hedy and Harman were the last people to whom she wanted to hand a stack of cash. Hedy would just gamble it away and Harman...well, it’d be just one more woman’s money in his pocket. “No. Listen. I know what happened that night at Golden Gardens, and the glove proves it. But I can’t take away Ella’s chance at a full life, so I’m not going to turn you in.”
Theo’s jaw dropped open in amazement. “You’re not?”
“Not yet, anyway. This is what’s going to happen. You and Shadi and your beautiful kids are going to go to Iran and get Ella a new kidney. Shadi is going to finish up her schooling—she’s going to be a nurse, right? Once Ella is healthy and Shadi can support herself, you’re going to turn yourself in for the theft of the sweepstakes entry. You don’t have to explain about climbing through the window and tussling with Gertrude. You don’t have to mention Gertrude at all. You can just say you took it from your bag when you were delivering mail.”
Theo hung his head. “I won’t be able to work for the postal service anymore.”
“Right.”
“And I’ll have to repay the money to the sweepstakes office.”
“Yes. But you might not go to jail. And Ella will live.”
He looked up at her. “Why are you trusting me to do this? I could just go on with my life and never take responsibility.”
Allison patted her purse. “I have the glove, remember? If you don’t turn yourself in, I’ll give it to Kara Lee, and she’ll connect it with Gertrude’s death. Then you’ll be in a lot more trouble than for a simple theft.”
He blinked disbelievingly. “You’re going to hold onto evidence of a crime...forever?”
At his words, realization dawned on Allison that it was impossible for her to keep the glove forever. When she turned over the memory library to a new guardian, she’d lose any recollection of reading the Homicides book. The glove in the bag would become meaningless to her, just an oddity, a work glove without a mate. She’d probably throw it away without thinking if she found it in a drawer. “Well, not forever. You have three years. That should be enough time for Ella and Shadi, don’t you think?”
He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I still can’t believe you’re doing this for me.”
She shot him a steely look, one she’d used on him when he was an obstreperous three-year-old in her care. “I’m not doing it for you, Theo Curtis. I’m doing it for Ella, and don’t you forget it.”
Impulsively, he swept her up in a hug that pinned her arms to her body and lifted her feet a couple of inches off the floor. Then he let her down and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you,” he said, tears leaking down his cheeks. “It’s the greatest gift anyone could ever give me, more time with my daughter. It’s all I want. It’s why I’m in this mess to begin with, because I let my judgment get clouded by desperation. Do you understand?” He looked into her eyes intently.
“I know how much I’d do for my own family,” she murmured, unable to hold eye contact with him for more than a few seconds.
Her throat tightened as she thought of the joy on Paul’s face this morning as he looked at Emily and recognized her as his daughter. She guessed it was worth a little pain on her part to give a gift like that. It was worth a little guilt, a dark little secret stowed in a drawer. She could stand it for a few years, knowing that in both cases—Paul’s missing memories and Theo’s crime—she could make things right.
Chapter 32
Sunday
Allison arrived at Feast and Flower seven minutes late for brunch—minutes she had spent brushing Pogo so he’d look his best. She glanced down at him before she went inside. His coat glinted in the sunlight that percolated through the grape leaves growing on the restaurant’s pergola. “You’re pretty irresistible, you know that?”
He looked up at her and grinned, panting with the exertion of their walk. He seemed to know that her experiment yesterday had worked. Pogo had decided that Kara was OK...actually, more than OK. He couldn’t get enough of Kara after he saw her playing with the Curtis kids. But Kara had asked for a little time to make her decision. “I need to sleep on it” were her exact words.
It was a fair request. In fact, Allison didn’t think anyone should adopt a dog on an impulse. So she’d taken Pogo home, half hopeful and half anxious that she’d made the wrong decision. If Kara changed her mind and didn’t adopt Pogo today, then Allison was back to square one. She took a deep breath and reached for the door to the restaurant.
“Over here!” Myra waved frantically from the other side of the bustling patio. Allison saw she was already seated with Kara, whom Allison hardly recognized out of uniform. Her hair was down and softly curled, a flower pinned above her ear, and she wore a light floral sundress. She stood up and peered over the other diners to get a look at Pogo, a silly, unselfconscious grin on her face.
Allison’s heart leaped. She could tell in an instant it was the face of a woman looking for her dog. She picked up her pace and reached the table a few moments later. “Here he is!” she said, handing the leash and the bulging tote bag of Pogo’s toys to Kara at the same time.
Kara looked giddy as she put the tote behind her chair. The instant she sat down again, Pogo bounded into her lap, and she giggled, bending over him to nuzzle his head. “I thought about it last night, and I couldn’t come up with a single reason not to adopt him. I can’t believe he’s mine! I can’t thank you enough, Allison. It was a stroke of genius to have me play with the Curtis kids.”
Myra nodded proudly. “That’s what I said. You really have a knack with dogs, Allison. Rachael’s lucky to have you in her foster program.”
Allison blushed. “Aw, I’m thrilled Pogo found a family. He’s such a special little guy.”
“It must be hard to let him go.” Myra’s look spoke volumes. She understood the hopes that Allison had pinned on Pogo, hopes that had ultimately gone unfulfilled. But strangely, Allison didn’t feel bad about it—maybe because she had new hopes, bigger ones, now that she fully realized the cause and extent of Paul’s missing memories. She knew no dog or magic gazebo could bring them back.
She smiled reassuringly at Myra. “It’s not so bad, not when he’s going to such a good home.”
“Emily stayed for six hours yesterday,” Myra said. “Did you know that?”
Allison nodded. “She wants me to bring Paul to her graduation next weekend, too. I’m going to rent a car and drive him up there.”
“How wonderful,” Myra said, clasping her hands.
“Are you ladies ready to order?” The server stood beside the table, a pen poised over her order pad.
“I’ll have the buttermilk chicken and waffles,” Kara said.
“Anything for the little mister?” the server asked. She reached over and flipped Kara’s menu so she could read the dog menu on the back. “I recommend the peanut butter pancakes. My dog loves them.”
Kara looked at Allison and then back at Pogo. “Does he like peanut butter?”
“Oh yeah!” Allison grinned, remembering how Pogo had gone crazy over the peanut butter on Theo’s postal uniform. That reminded her—Theo and Shadi had made their flight from Portland late last night. Right now they were probably in London, visiting a dialysis clinic during their layover so Ella would be comfortable for the seco
nd leg of their journey. By this evening, they’d be safe with Shadi’s parents in Tehran.
Kara nodded to the server. “Yes, please, an order of those. And mango-marigold mimosas for all of us!”
Myra and Allison both picked the pancakes, and as soon as the server left to put in their order, Myra reached around the floral centerpiece to grip Allison’s hand, her expression serious. “Before we toast to new friendship, I have something important to ask you. I’m sorry to bring it up during brunch, but you know I can’t keep a secret to myself.”
Fear jolted through Allison—what could Myra want? Was this about Gertrude’s death? Or the memory library? Had Allison missed a scrap of Myra’s memory when she tore the pages out of the Guardians book? She swallowed. “Go on.”
“Well, I talked to management about how understaffed we are at Golden Gardens, and they approved a new position: enrichment director! And I thought”—Myra squeezed Allison’s hand—“well, please tell me you will take the job. You have a calming presence when you visit, and you come up with the most creative activities for Paul. You could bring them for everyone, just like you did with the baking! It’s only half time and the pay isn’t great, but you can set your own hours, and you’re there almost every day, anyway. What do you say?” Myra looked at her hopefully and bit her lip as she waited for Allison’s response. Then she added, “If you get a new foster dog, you could bring it with you. I already checked.”
Relief flooded Allison’s body. Myra didn’t remember the library or her guardianship; she just needed help at work. “I’d love that! Truly. I think it will make Paul more comfortable if my attention isn’t always so focused on him, anyway. When can I start?”
Myra leaned into the table. “Tomorrow. I’m begging you. Please, start tomorrow.”
“It’s settled then! I’ll be there at nine.”
Myra sat back and clasped her hands just as the server brought their mimosas and set one down in front of each of them. Allison admired her drink; it glowed brilliant poppy-orange in the morning sunlight. A miniature marigold blossom adorned the rim like a tiny fascinator.
Kara lifted her glass. “A toast to new things. New towns, new jobs, new friends, and”—she looked down at Pogo in her lap and smiled—“well, I was going to say new dogs, but I guess new friends covers it.”
“Cheers!” Myra said, clinking her glass against Kara’s and then against Allison’s. “We should do this every weekend.”
“I’m in,” Kara said, holding her drink out toward Allison.
As Allison clinked her glass against Kara’s and took her first sip of the delightfully fruity mimosa, she felt the briefest whisper of guilt. Here she was toasting to a new friend, and she was already keeping things from her. Could she sit across the table from Kara every weekend and still be a good guardian to the library? Or was it better to avoid the person bent on uncovering the secret she was bound to protect?
The server brought out Pogo’s tiny dish of silver-dollar-size doggy pancakes, and Kara squealed with delight. She put Pogo down on the floor under the table and watched him gobble them up as fast as he could. “He’s going to be disappointed when I take him home and feed him kibble. He’s going to be like, ‘What’s up with this prison food, Kara?’”
Allison grinned. Kara’s personality was so different out of uniform. Her usual suspicious stare was completely gone, as though it didn’t even exist. Her face was open and frank. Trusting.
Maybe being Kara’s friend was the best way to stay off her radar, Allison thought. Kara was less likely to suspect Allison was hiding something if they were close, wasn’t she?
“You know, you can make those at home,” she said to Kara, nodding at Pogo’s rapidly emptying dish.
Kara’s face lit up. “Really? Is it healthy for him to have pancakes regularly?”
“Sure, as long as he doesn’t eat them every day. They’re just peanut butter, banana, and eggs. I can send you the recipe.”
“I’d love that.”
“Give me the recipe, too!” Myra said. “I bet Crystal’s dogs would go crazy over those. They’re always up in my business when I’m cooking breakfast for the grandbabies.”
“You can feed them to the kids, too. Or yourself—I’ve been known to eat a few when I make them for dogs!” Allison chuckled.
Their food arrived, and Allison leaned back a little so the server had room to put the plate down in front of her on the purple paisley tablecloth. The stack of wholegrain pancakes was topped with a charming garnish of lavender, deep eggplant, and golden pansies. A tiny handmade pitcher of hibiscus syrup accompanied them.
“This looks divine,” Myra declared as she surveyed her identical plate. “Who needs church when you have breakfast like this?” She winked across the table. Allison knew she was kidding, but once she took her first bite, she knew there was truth in it, too. These were some heavenly pancakes if there ever were any.
Kara reached down to loop Pogo’s leash around the table leg, and then dug into her enormous plate of crispy fried chicken and buttermilk waffles. “Mmmph, food this good should be illegal,” she mumbled around her first mouthful. “I thought I’d be downgrading when I moved here from Portland, but I can see that’s not the case!”
Myra nodded, her expression satisfied. “Wait until you taste some of Allison and Paul’s baking. I’m sure the new bakery will have great stuff when it opens, too, but nobody can beat Ryes & Shine bread. Not in Portland, not anywhere.”
“I don’t know if we’ll be baking Ryes & Shine bread any time soon,” Allison said quietly, pushing the pansies off the top of her pancakes with her fork and toying with them to avoid looking at Myra and getting choked up. “Paul had all the recipes in his head. I tried to recreate them from my own memory, after—well, after he couldn’t remember them. But it wasn’t the same.”
“You’ll get there, baby girl. One way or another,” Myra murmured sympathetically, before popping another bite of her breakfast in her mouth.
Kara paused, her fork halfway to her mouth, and nodded to Allison. “I think our taste buds change when we have a big loss. When my tutu passed—my grandmother—I tried to make food her way. But I couldn’t. Even the rice didn’t taste right; it didn’t have her spirit. Now it has been a few years, and when I use her recipes, I can’t tell the difference anymore. Maybe it will be the same for you.” She gave Allison a hopeful smile.
But Allison didn’t buy it. Paul wasn’t dead. His spirit was still there, inside him. Something else was missing—something that had been stolen on purpose. What had been on those pages that the page thief was so eager to remove? Was her goal to destroy Allison and Paul’s life? Because she had definitely succeeded in that. But why would someone Allison didn’t know—didn’t even recognize—want to ruin their lives?
Maybe she didn’t. Maybe the page thief had nothing against them. It was possible she stole the pages for another reason—because she wanted whatever was written on them. Was there something in Paul’s memories that was worth stealing? That was the question Allison had to answer.
Sensing the growing attention of Myra and Kara, she put on a smile. “I don’t mean to bring down the mood. Let’s talk about something fun. Tell us about what it was like growing up on the beach! Can you surf?”
Kara nodded, and she returned Allison’s smile. “I think I learned to swim before I could walk. The Pacific was a lot warmer on the North Shore than it is here in Oregon, though. I haven’t tried surfing in cold water.”
Myra gasped. “Oh, you can’t give it up. You just need to wear a little more than a bikini. I think my cousin Bonnie, who lives up in Tillamook—her daughter has a wetsuit that doesn’t fit her since she had her babies. I bet it’d be perfect on you, though, Miss Long Tall Sally. Maybe she’ll give you a good deal on it to get it out of her garage.”
Allison smiled to herself as she finished off her delectable pansy-cakes and listened to Myra and Kara discuss the fair price for a secondhand wetsuit and the best spots to surf nea
r Pacific City. Somehow, Myra knew all this stuff due to her seemingly endless network of family and friends. This brunch had been a good idea. Kara was going to fit in fine with Myra at her back.
Chapter 33
After they’d cleaned their plates and paid the check, Kara hoisted the tote bag full of Pogo’s possessions onto her arm. “Do you want some time to say goodbye?” she asked Allison.
Allison looked down at the Yorkie, who sat at Kara’s feet looking up at her adoringly. “I think he’s forgotten me already.”
“I’m sorry!” Kara said, making a face, but Allison just laughed.
“As it should be. Those peanut butter pancakes clinched the deal. You now have a loyal subject.” She leaned down and gave Pogo a little pat, which he hardly seemed to notice, and then reached out to give Myra a quick squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow at Golden Gardens.”
“I might bring Pogo by, if that’s okay,” Kara said casually. “I know Lilian enjoyed seeing him, and your husband did, too.”
Allison swallowed the lump in her throat at the mention of Paul. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
Myra nodded in agreement and reached out to squeeze both their hands. “Brunch next Sunday?”
Kara made a face. “I think I have to work on Sunday.”
“I’m taking Paul to Emily’s graduation on Saturday,” Allison said apologetically.
Myra waved her hand. “We’ll figure out a time that works for all of us. If not brunch, then dessert at my house.”
Allison walked with them to their cars and then, alone, decided to take the river path instead of the sidewalk. It only added a few minutes to her walk home. The sound of rushing water filled her ears, and she was lulled by the gentle sway of the grasses along the riverbank. Whatever she had lost, she would find again, she was sure of it.