by Diane Moody
“Would you be terribly disappointed to skip the trip to Bangor and stay with Charlie today?”
“Not at all. But with your power out, would it be better for you to bring her here?”
“That’s what I was thinking. I would take her to Celeste, but she’s out of town. Her service said she’s due back late tonight. I left a voice mail so she’ll know what’s going on.”
“I’m sure Charlie will be fine here.”
Half an hour later, Trevor brought Charlie in her crate to the Captain MacVicar. Trig and Michelle assured him they’d be there to help if there was a problem. Trevor knelt down to gently scratch behind Charlie’s ears and promise her he’d be back as soon as possible. Olivia walked him to the door.
“Don’t worry, Trevor. We’ll go online and see what we need to do if she goes into labor. If anything happens, I’ll call you.”
“I’m hoping if I get there early, they might be able to squeeze me in ahead of schedule. Otherwise, I’ll just wait there until they can get to me. At the latest I should be back by two or two-thirty.”
He pulled her into his arms and held her close. “Thank you. I know she’s just a dog, but—”
“She’s your girl and this is a special time. No apologies necessary.”
“You’re good to have around, you know that?”
With a final hug and kiss from Olivia, he dashed to the SUV and left.
Trig suggested they leave Charlie in the living room, so they placed her crate in a corner near the fireplace. Olivia changed into comfortable clothes and brought her laptop downstairs with her.
“You just take it easy and get some rest, Charlie. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
The dog seemed agitated, pawing at her flannel blanket repeatedly before circling around in her crate and settling down. Olivia went online to find out what they might need in case Charlie went into labor. She learned that expectant mothers like to nest and often drag all kinds of clothing or towels into a dark place. Olivia got some old towels from Michelle and a small quilt to put over the crate. Trig went out to the garage to find a large cardboard box in case things progressed. He cut the top off then cut an opening on one side.
“We have an extra thermometer upstairs,” he said. “We’ll need to watch her temperature. If it drops down to 100 degrees, that’ll let us know she’s about eight or ten hours away from delivering her pups.”
“You sound as if you’ve been through this before.”
“We always had dogs around when I was growing up. Some do great delivering their pups and pretty much do it without any outside help. Others can struggle. I’ll feel a lot better when Celeste gets back in town.”
The rest of the morning dragged by. It was snowing again, but Olivia found no pleasure in it. She read for a while, then browsed online to catch up on the news. Ellen called just before lunch and they talked for half an hour. Afterward, she stretched out on the sofa not far from Charlie’s crate and eventually dozed off.
Around one-thirty, Charlie started whimpering and scratching at her blanket again. Trig decided to check her temperature just to be on the safe side. It registered just below 102° which meant she could go into labor at any time. He and Olivia carefully moved her into the well-padded cardboard box and covered it with the quilt. Charlie circled round and round, pushing the towels here then there, all the while whimpering and panting.
Olivia decided to call Trevor and check in with him. The phone rang several times then went to voice mail. Assuming he was settling up at the estate, she left a message asking him to call when he could. She tried again at two, wondering why he hadn’t called and again got voice mail.
“Sometimes it’s hard to get cell service when you’re on the road,” Michelle suggested.
“You’re probably right. The estate where he was going was out in the country. I’m sure that’s what has happened.”
Another hour crept by. Outside the snow was blowing harder. She had the fleeting thought that perhaps Trevor had hit another patch of black ice . . . then rolled her eyes, chiding herself for conjuring up unnecessary fear. She knelt beside Charlie’s makeshift bed and watched her sleep, her paws twitching now and then. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” she whispered. “You’ll do just fine.”
At three-thirty, Olivia got back online and started searching for a number for the Maxwell Sullivan Estate. She knew the private home number wouldn’t be listed, so she typed in “book auctions Maxwell Sullivan” and bingo—a webpage appeared. Scrolling down she found a number for the company that handled the auction and made the call.
After being put on hold several times, she finally got through to the secretary of the auction company and asked how she might reach Trevor Bass who was picking up some books at the estate.
“I’m so glad you called! This is Ginger Fredricks. We’ve been trying to reach Mr. Bass for several hours. He never showed up for his books, and we’re about to close. Do you have a number where we might reach him?”
A haunting wave drifted over Olivia. She held the cell phone against her forehead and tried to think, taking slow, careful breaths. Trevor should have been to the estate by no later than eleven. If he’d had car trouble, surely he would have called. Then again, as Michelle said, cell service could be spotty along the road.
“Hello?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. This is Olivia Thomas, a friend of Trevor’s. He left here around nine this morning. He planned to get there early, so I don’t understand why he’s not there.” She shook off the fear knotting in her stomach. “Ginger, let me make some calls and get back to you. Could I have your direct number?” She wrote it down then hung up.
“He never got there?” Michelle asked, taking a seat beside her.
“No, but . . .” She looked at Michelle then up at Trig. “Something’s wrong. I have a really bad feeling. What should I do? Who should I call?”
Michelle put an arm around her. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just car trouble or something.”
“Let me give Sheriff Sampson a call,” Trig said. “Maybe he can tell us what we need to do. Or maybe he can call someone up in that area. I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, Trig returned snaking his arms into his coat. “They said Sampson is over at Molly’s. They were going to connect me to him, but I’m going to jog down there and talk to him in person.”
Olivia jumped up. “I’m coming with you.”
Michelle stood. “You should probably stay here, Olivia. Trig can bring the sheriff back.”
“No, I want to go. I have to go. I can’t just sit here.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want to do. I’ll keep an eye on Charlie.”
Olivia ran upstairs for her coat, overwhelmed by the heavy scent of roses filling her room. She swallowed hard, refusing to give in to her emotion. God, please keep him safe. Wherever he is, please make sure he’s okay.
Chapter 22
By four-thirty, Olivia was still seated at the coffee bar at Molly’s. The sheriff said he would make some calls, but couldn’t promise anything since they had no evidence that he was “a missing person as such.” Over and over she’d explained how concerned Trevor had been about Charlie going into labor, how anxious he was to get back, and how unlikely he’d go this long without calling. Only Molly’s constant assurances kept her from losing her temper with the town’s laid-back sheriff before he finally headed back to the station.
“Maybe I should just go look for him myself. At least I’d know someone was out there trying to find him.”
“Not in this kind of weather, Olivia. The roads will be a mess by now.”
She thought back to the night she and Trevor quarreled about the black ice, remembering how the SUV had swerved out of control. “How come Trevor didn’t tell me there was more snow in the forecast? Why would he take off knowing there was a chance the roads might ice over again?”
“I don’t know,” Molly said. “Though it’s no secret Trevor’s been known to
have a bit of a stubborn streak.”
“I know, but why wouldn’t he . . .”
“Why wouldn’t he what?”
Olivia stared at the older woman, though she knew the answer to her own question. Between the long day which ended with his proposal, then Ellen’s visit, and all the commotion over Charlie, it probably never crossed Trevor’s mind to check the forecast. She swallowed hard.
“Oh, nothing.” She turned to look out the windows. “I just wish he’d call.”
Her cell chirped and she scrabbled for it in her pocket. The number on the screen wasn’t one she recognized. “Hello?”
“Is this Olivia?”
“Yes, it is.”
“This is Ginger Fredricks with the Archibald Book Auction Corporation.”
“Oh, yes, Ginger! Did he show up? Is Trevor there?”
“No, I’m sorry, he hasn’t. I was hoping you’d heard from him by now.”
Olivia searched for calm. “No, we’ve heard nothing. To be honest, I’m worried sick.”
“I’m so sorry. I wonder . . . I might be able to pull some strings on this end and get the police here to look into it.”
“We haven’t had much luck with that on this end,” Olivia groaned. Sheriff Sampson had returned earlier, trying to convince her that no news was good news. She pinned him with a glare.
“Are you there, Olivia?”
“Oh, sorry. Yes, I’m here, Ginger. What were you saying?”
“My dad is the police chief in Bangor. With your permission, I’d like to call him and—”
“Yes! Oh yes! Please! That would be wonderful!”
“He carries a lot of clout up here, and needless to say, he’s in a position to make things happen. If it’s okay with you, I’ll give him your name and number and have him call you.”
“Of course! Please have him call me. And thank you so much, Ginger!”
When she hung up, she filled Molly in on Ginger’s offer to call her father. She looked around, surprised to see so many townspeople milling around the shop, all of them listening to her conversation.
Sheriff Sampson approached her. “Miss Thomas, you should have given her my contact information.”
She ignored him, and turning back to Molly, lowered her voice. “Molly, why are all these people here?”
“Always happens on a snowy day. Plus, I’m sure word has spread about Trevor.”
Trig returned from the MacVicar and assured her Charlie was doing fine and not to worry.
Scott and Mavis Randolphson showed up, carrying on about the snow, but Olivia was sure they were here because of Trevor.
Ten minutes later, Chief Fredricks called. Molly motioned her back to her office where she’d have more privacy. For the next fifteen minutes, Chief Fredricks asked her questions concerning Trevor’s vehicle, make and model, the last time she talked to him, his planned route to and from the Bangor area, and Trevor’s cell number. His kind voice and easy manner helped her relax.
“We’ll alert all the law enforcement agencies up here to be on the lookout for Trevor’s SUV, and I’ll have the Highway Patrol search the roads between Caden Cove and Bangor. I’ll have someone from my office stay in touch with you at least once an hour. We’ll do our best to find him, Miss Thomas.”
Olivia asked Molly if she could stay in her office a while longer. “I still don’t understand why all those people are out there. They aren’t shopping. Why come out in this weather for a cup of coffee? Don’t these people have lives?”
Molly pulled up a chair alongside Olivia’s. “They’re here because they care about Trevor.”
Olivia raked her fingers up the back of her neck into her hair. “I’m sorry, Molly. I’ve been so blindsided by all this, I guess I forgot that you all have known him a lot longer than I have. How selfish of me.”
Molly squeezed Olivia’s hand. “You’re not selfish; you care for Trevor in a special way. Any fool can see that.”
Olivia averted her eyes, brushing imaginary lint from her sweater. “He means the world to me. More than you know.”
Mimi Overton burst into the office like a purple tornado, short of breath. “I just heard the news about Trevor! Why didn’t anyone call me? The whole town’s out there and nobody called me? I was at home watching the news when they said I-95 was shut down because of a twenty-car pileup! I called Marilyn to tell her, and she told me everyone was here. Oh dear Lord, I hope he’s not in that pileup!”
Olivia stood. “When? How long ago did the accident happen?”
“Let me think. They said it happened just half an hour ago. Just in time for the evening traffic. And now that the sun is setting, oh my Lord, what a mess. You should see the footage from the news helicopter.”
Olivia dropped back into her chair. “Then Trevor can’t be involved in that. We first realized he was missing earlier this morning.”
“Oh, Olivia. Don’t you worry. They’ll find him. If I know Trevor, he’s probably lost track of time wandering in the library up there. Or maybe he ran into an old friend or just—”
“Mimi, would you mind checking on everybody out front?” Molly asked. “See if you can ask Cyndi to put on another pot of coffee.”
“Sure thing. I’ll let you know if there’s any more news.”
“That girl is a whirling dervish if ever there was one,” Molly mused as the door closed behind her.
Olivia rubbed her eyes. “I just can’t believe this.”
Molly sat back down. “Talk to me. It will help. I promise you.”
Olivia took a moment then looked up at her. “Molly, we haven’t told anyone here but . . . well, the other night Trevor proposed to me.” Her eyes filled before the words were out of her mouth.
“Really? What wonderful news! How lovely—for both of you!” She leaned over to give Olivia a hug. “Of course, I had an inkling that something was going on.”
“You did?”
“Let’s just say, a man doesn’t order a dozen roses in every color unless it’s a special occasion. We were all dying to know why all those florist trucks kept pulling up to the MacVicar. In a town this small, that’s practically front-page news.”
“Oh, please tell me it’s not!?”
“No, not really. Fact is, everyone I know was hoping you and Trevor might find true love.”
“Whoa. This is a small town. You all need to find some hobbies.”
The sweet melody of Molly’s laughter eased the ache in Olivia’s heart. She leaned her head on Molly’s shoulder. “What will I do if they can’t find him?” she said, sniffling. “Before we could even say our vows, it feels like he’s been snatched away. What will I do?”
Molly rocked her gently back and forth. “There now. Don’t you give up on him. Like I said before, your Trevor can be a stubborn one at times. Whatever has happened, you know he’ll move mountains to get back to . . .”
Molly stopped rocking. Olivia heard a quiet gasp and sat up. Molly’s trembling hand covered her mouth.
“Molly? What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Molly closed her eyes for a moment. “Olivia? Do you know what day it is?”
“Well, sure. It’s Wednesday. Why?”
She opened her eyes and reached for Olivia’s hand. “No, I mean what day of the month it is.”
“It’s . . . I don’t know, the twenty-seventh? Twenty-eighth?”
“No, dear. It’s February 29th.”
“Okay. So?”
Molly shook her head. “Don’t you remember?”
Olivia studied her friend’s worried eyes. “I don’t under—” She stopped, then sat up straight. “Wait—this isn’t about that silly legend, is it?”
“Olivia—”
“Oh, please,” she groaned, standing. “You’ve got to be kidding me. At a time like this? With Trevor missing? Why would you bring up that stupid myth?”
“It’s because Trevor’s missing that I bring it up. Don’t you see? You’re st
ill staying in the Catherine Room at the MacVicar. You’re engaged to be married. And now, on the last day of February in this leap year, your fiancé is missing.”
Olivia dropped her head back and raised her hands in refusal. “Honestly, Molly, just stop it! I don’t want to hear any more about that ridiculous curse. Of all the people in this town, you’re the last person I’d ever expect to be so gullible.”
“Yet, of all the people in this town, I have more reason to believe it than anyone else.”
Olivia crossed her arms across her chest. “Why? What are you talking about?”
“Sit down. I need to tell you something.”
Olivia wondered if the old pharmacist might be losing it. She walked back to her chair and sat down again. “All right. Tell me.”
Molly closed her eyes. “When I was twenty years old, I was engaged to marry a handsome young man I’d met at college. Gregory was a couple of years older than me, which meant he was eligible for the draft into the military. So we put off our wedding plans until he finished his tour of duty. Gregory eventually ended up in Vietnam. I don’t think I slept through a night the entire time he was there. I was so afraid of losing him.
“He lost so many of his army buddies along the way. It was such a terrible war, as they all are, of course. But not long after the first of the year in 1968, we got word Gregory would be home sometime around the first week of March. I was so relieved. We set our wedding date for March 15th. I could hardly wait.
“Then, the second week of February, a fire burned more than half our family home. The owners of the MacVicar were friends of ours and insisted we stay at the inn until our home was rebuilt.” She paused, emotion shadowing her eyes. “Which is how I ended up a guest in the Catherine Room just weeks before my wedding.
“Oh, Molly,” Olivia whispered. “I don’t think I can bear to hear this.”
Molly nodded with understanding. “But you must. You see, just a few days before Gregory was due home, I was awakened with news that he and four others had been killed in a rocket attack on the helicopter ferrying them to the base where they were to catch a flight home.”
“And it happened on the 29th?”