I get out of there and head for my house. I ought to be checking in with David about what I found out, but I can’t go near the bakery with that woman around. She might not be The Other Woman to me, but she’s still an unknown quantity. She represents everything he’s doing that I can’t be a part of.
I get back to my house with my dignity intact—at least, I hope it’s intact. I can comfort myself that encountering me on the streets of West End with another woman on his arm causes David as much distress as it causes me. I doubt the blonde will ever know what that confrontation was all about.
I have to stop thinking of her as The Blonde. She has a name. I definitely shouldn’t call her David’s Daughter’s Adoptive Mother. That would be asking too much.
I fetch my laptop from my bedroom and search Animal Companions. Sure enough, they carry bulk containers of Floral Glow Dog Shampoo. That’s perfect. Now all we have to do is establish the paper trail that shows Bea bought it in quantity to use on her dogs.
I sit on the sofa staring at my computer screen. I’m done searching the internet, but something stops me from turning it off. I could be out in the garden getting the early leaves raked out of my flower beds. I could be mulching my plants for winter. I could be doing a lot of things instead of staring at my browser.
For no particular reason, I navigate to the address Zack gave me. I sit there looking at the web page. Margaret Nichols, Private Investigator for Hire. That’s me. I don’t have to worry about getting David’s approval—not that I ever did. He always supported me. If I want to be a PI, he would be the first to back me up—the first after Zack, that is.
Now I am one. Patrick Donohue hired me to investigate Mark Sheridan’s death. Now I’m working with David anyhow. I haven’t lost anything. I noodle around the webpage for a while, but I’m okay with it. I can call myself a PI. I don’t even mind taking money for it. How the times, they are a-changing.
I shut my laptop, but I still don’t move. I sit there for a long time. I feel different, not just in my mind, but in my flesh and blood. My body feels different. I’ve evolved into something different. I’m not just a candy store owner anymore. I’m not just a refugee from a bad marriage trying to scrape a few pennies together to get through the day. I’m a private investigator. I have skills and abilities and resources. I’m something. I’m somebody.
I slide my laptop onto the coffee table and get to my feet. I look out the window for an equally long time. I let this new reality sink in. When I wander out into the garden, I do it as a different person. Can everybody tell? Can Zack tell I’m different?
The sudden realization hits me. They already know. Everybody already knows. I’m the last to wake up to the fact that I’m so much more than I realized. Everyone in town already treats me like a PI. They already know I have skills and abilities. They know I’m something and somebody. I’m the last person who thought I was nothing but a refugee trying to make a living.
I go out onto the back porch and pick up my pruners. I putter around my garden doing a few mindless tasks, but the life-changing comprehension won’t leave me alone. I’m already there. I have arrived at the destination I never thought I’d reach. I’m the person I never dared to dream I would become.
I can walk through this town with my head up. I can talk to anyone I meet. I can call on my friends and acquaintances for help when I need it. I have nothing to be ashamed of. Why did I ever think I did?
A few hours later, I go inside to make dinner. Everything I do feels different. Every sensation feels different. Items and utensils in my kitchen look different. I move differently. I can never go back to being the person I was before.
Maybe I had to break up with David to feel this way. Maybe my feelings for him were holding me back. If that’s the case, I can finally be glad that things turned between us the way they did. I’m a PI, and I wouldn’t be if I was still with him. For that, I’m grateful.
Zack gets home to find me cleaning the oven. He stands in the kitchen door and scowls at me. I call to him over my shoulder. “Hi, honey. How was your day?”
He flings himself into a chair. “It was exhausting. I’m going to bed early tonight.”
I laugh. “I guess that means you’re not going out with your friends.”
“No, I’m not. I’m telling you, Mom. I think I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. I think I need to slow it down a little.”
I stand up and run my wrist across my forehead. I turn around to face him. “I’m not surprised. You can’t expect to work a job and run down to Peterborough every night. You’ll wear yourself out.”
He kicks off his shoes. “Is this what getting older feels like? How do you stand it?”
I laugh out loud again. “No, son, this is not what getting older feels like. Look at me. I’m more than twice your age, and I have more energy than ever. You just have to know how to preserve yourself and not push yourself too hard. Get a good night’s sleep. Maybe take a few days off from hanging out with your friends. Cut your activities back to the nights when you have the following day off work. You’ll be fine.”
I strip my rubber gloves into the sink and get busy putting dinner on the table. He sits in the chair, a sagging sack of sad, and watches me. I flip the tablecloth in front of him.
He observes me with no expression. Then he shakes his head. “How do you do it, Mom? How do you have a boyfriend and run a business and solve mysteries and keep up a garden? How do you manage to do all that and still have enough energy to make a nice dinner like this?”
I can’t help smiling at him. “I don’t, you know. I do it by not doing them all at once. Sometimes I work on the business. Sometimes I make dinner. Sometimes I work in the garden. I don’t do everything at the same time, and neither should you. Pace yourself. Take time to breathe and get plenty of rest. That’s my advice.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” He hauls himself to his feet. He takes his shoes upstairs and doesn’t come down for half an hour.
I put dinner on the table and take extra care to make it nice. I light the candles and arrange the cutlery just so. I don’t have a boyfriend anymore, so I better value the people I do have. If I can spend some of my life’s energy making their lives better, I’ll be better for it, too.
Zack comes down in his pajamas and bathrobe. He stops in his tracks when he sees the table. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t know you were going all out. I’ll go change back into my clothes.”
“No!” My hand shoots out. “Don’t do that. Come sit down just the way you are.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m very sure. You’re fine the way you are. Please.” I wave toward his chair.
He tiptoes into the room. He hesitates before he finally sits down. He really does look a lot older. He must be more tired than either of us realized.
I take the roast ham out of the oven and set it on the table. I carve him off a slice and one for myself. Then I serve him a portion of asparagus and a tossed salad with artichoke hearts.
I take a bite of the ham and chew it while I regard my son across the table. “You’re scheduled to work tomorrow, too. Why don’t I take over for you—just this once? You can rest tomorrow.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he returns. “When I have days off, I get into trouble.”
I cock my head to one side. “When have you gotten into trouble? From what I can see, you’re a model citizen.”
“Only when you’re around, Mom.” He gives me a wry grin. “I didn’t mean that kind of trouble. I meant when I have time off, I usually spend it with my friends. I think I better stick to the assigned schedule. That will keep me on the straight and narrow until I acclimate to the new normal of responsible adulthood.”
I laugh again.
Now it’s his turn to cock his head. He studies me with his unerring eye. “You’re really happy, Mom. Do you have a date with Detective Graham tonight? Is that why you made this special dinner?”
I cast my eyes down to my plate. I
move my carrots back and forth? What can I say to him? I dread his reaction when he finds out the truth.
“Did I say something wrong, Mom?” he asks.
“Not at all, sweetheart. I don’t have a date with David tonight. We had a little bit of a breakup.”
His eyes shoot open. “What?! What did he do? Don’t tell me he cheated on you or anything like that. I’ll rip his legs off if he did anything to hurt you.”
“It’s not like that,” I murmur. “I was worried about that, but it isn’t that. We had a little misunderstanding that led to a bigger understanding. We both realized we both need to take some time off. That’s all.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I don’t like the sound of this. What happened?”
I sigh and bow my head. “I wish I could tell you, but I think I better keep it confidential for now. That’s for him to reveal, not me. I’m sure you and all the rest of West End will find out very soon. You won’t be able to miss it.”
All at once, with no warning, he slams his fist down on the table. The impact makes the cutlery rattle, and one of the candles splutters. “Blast it!” he snaps.
I jump out of my skin. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I was really starting to appreciate you going out with him, and now you split up with him. You were so happy with him. I never saw you so happy, Mom. Now what’s going to happen? I don’t want to see you go back to the way you were when you first left Dad.”
I slump back in my seat in relief. “I won’t, sweetheart. I’m still happy. That’s the most curious part of this whole thing. I was happy with David, and I’m just as happy now. I mean, look at me. Do I look unhappy? I’m not saying I’m glad we split up, but maybe it’s for the best right now. Besides, it doesn’t affect my happiness. I can be happy with him or without him because my happiness comes from me. I choose to be just as happy with him as away from him. It’s weird. I never thought it could be this way, but it is.”
He peers at me between the candles. “You’re right. You’re just as happy now as you’ve been in the last few months. I didn’t think it was possible. I thought he made you happy, but I guess it was you all along. I’m amazed. I guess you’re right. It is a good thing.”
“Maybe it isn’t a good thing, but it isn’t a bad thing. It certainly won’t be the end of me.”
“That’s good,” he replied. “I like you like this. I like seeing you happy. Now you’ll have to excuse me, Mom. I have to go upstairs and pass out. I hope I see you in the morning.”
He climbs to his feet and shuffles out of the room. The next minute, he disappears up the stairs. I hear his tread going down the hall and ending in his room. The house falls silent. I’m alone at the dining room table eating a candlelight dinner with myself.
I never thought I’d be happy to be alone, but I am. I can enjoy this meal as much by myself as with anyone else, be it David or Zack or anybody. I’m good company for myself, and the sensations of candlelight, good food, comfort, and security fill me with pleasure as much as if someone else was sitting opposite me. They fill me with as much pleasure as if I was in a fancy restaurant with a handsome man who admires and adores me.
I take another bite of the ham—the meal I prepared just for myself. I made it exactly the way I wanted it. I enjoyed making it as much as I enjoy eating it. Life is good. Life is filled with pleasures of all kinds, and the greatest part is that they all come from me. I carry them with me and I create them for my own enjoyment.
11
While I’m busy washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen, someone steps up onto the front porch. I hear footsteps stop in front of the door, but whoever it is doesn’t knock. I wait, but nothing happens.
I don’t hear them walk away, either. Who could it be? After another wait, I dry my hands and peek through the curtains. My eyes spring open when I see David standing out there, but he doesn’t knock.
I open the front door. “What are you doing out here? Why didn’t you knock?”
He shifts from one foot to the other. He scans the house to avoid looking at me. “I wasn’t sure if I should. I mean…. what with everything going on, I wasn’t sure if I should bother you.”
“Why shouldn’t you?” I asked. “We’re still on speaking terms. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I wanted to touch base with you about the case,” he replies. “I’ve been going out of my mind wondering if I should come over. Even when I walked up here from the car, I wasn’t sure I should pester you at home. We agreed to give each other space. I wasn’t sure I should come to your house to ask you about something trivial like that.”
“Trivial! It’s not trivial. Come inside. We can talk about it.”
I stand back and hold the door open, but he doesn’t venture forward. “I don’t know if I should.”
“You don’t know if you should, but I’m telling you to, so that should make up your mind. Come on. You’re letting all the cold air in.”
He hesitates a moment longer before he crosses the threshold. I start to enter the living room. “Sit down.”
He hangs around the entry and fidgets.
Finally, I can see he’s not going to get comfortable anytime soon. “Fine,” I tell him. “You can lean against the kitchen counter while I finish the dishes.”
That makes him relax a little. I go back to my work while he lounges a few feet away. “So what did you find out about Bea and her dogs?”
“She uses Floral Glow, all right. She runs a little side business raising and showing the dogs, so she keeps records of all her purchases and expenses. Patrick says she keeps all her receipts to claim as tax deductions, and she does all the grooming herself so she almost certainly got their hair on her clothes. Did you locate the lawyer?”
“I talked to him,” David replies. “He never got the purchase agreement.”
“That means Mark never sent it. That means the documents must still be in his house or somewhere.”
“I thought of that, so I sent the forensics team back to his house,” he tells me. “They scoured the whole place and found nothing. The documents aren’t in his files. They aren’t on the hard drive of his computer. They weren’t in that affected attaché case of his, either.”
“It could have been under the cover of his scanner. Did they check there?”
“Yes, Margaret,” he groans. “They’re trained experts. Of course they checked there.”
I frown. “That’s odd. Where could the papers be, then?”
“You got me. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Any ideas?”
“None at all, but they must be somewhere,” I exclaim. “A guy like Mark Sheridan wouldn’t let a signed purchase agreement just disappear.”
“I agree. Patrick is going out of his mind about it, too. He called me up this afternoon when we were in the middle of searching the house. He got all worked up. He said his whole future depended on that agreement.”
“He’s going to have a hard time if the legalities don’t hold up,” I point out. “Even if we find the documents, some judge could rule them unenforceable. Then he’ll be out of luck and stuck with the toy store.”
“That’s what I told him, but he was too hysterical to listen. Then I fielded a separate call from Bea about the same thing. She wanted to know if the agreement was legally binding and if there was any way out of it. I told her we still hadn’t been able to find it, but if we did, it’s legal efficacy would depend on the judge in question. I told her to consult a lawyer about it, and she got her nose all bent out of shape. She started yelling at me so I could hardly understand a word she was saying.”
I stare at him with my arms submerged up to the elbow in soapy water. “Wow!”
“I’m telling you, Margaret,” he continues, “I’ve had one doozy of a day. I finally asked her what the big deal was. I said, ‘You’re half owner of the toy store. All you have to do is refuse to sell it, and the purchase agreement is worthless. Since you didn’t know about Mark’s arrangement with Pa
trick, the purchase agreement is no good anyway because it only has his signature on it.’”
“What did she say to that?”
He puffs out his cheeks and passes his hand across his eyes. “Then she really hit the roof. She started screeching into the phone that Patrick owned the toy store exclusively and that he could sell it out from under her and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”
I stare at him with my mouth open. “Oh, my goodness! She’s a lot more emotionally invested in this than anyone else on Main Street.”
“Yeah. I’m really coming around to your theory that she’s the killer. We only have one problem. We still can’t locate the purchase agreement. We need that to prove she had a motive. I’m wondering if she already destroyed it.”
“How could she?” I ask. “She wouldn’t be so worked up about it if she had.”
“I thought of that, but how can it not be in Mark’s possession unless someone tampered with it? It doesn’t make sense.”
I turn back to the sink. I go through the methodical rhythm of soaping the dishes and setting them aside. “I really don’t know. We’ll have to come up with some other explanation for what Mark did with the documents.”
He turns away. “I shouldn’t have come over. I’ll leave you alone. I just really needed to talk to you about this. I’m sorry I intruded.”
“You didn’t,” I insist. “You’re welcome here anytime. We’re still friends, even if we’re not going out anymore.”
He nods down at the floor. “I knew you’d say that. You’re too nice not to.”
“Oh, come on, David,” I fire back. “We’re both adults. Something came up. That’s all. No harm, no foul. We both have our own lives. You have your work and your daughter and everything related to that. I have a son and a business. We can still help each other out. I don’t want you to ever feel the need to stay away. We’ll keep working together on the case.”
He nods again, but he doesn’t look happy. “I know. It just sucks. I wish…..well, I wish things hadn’t changed. I wish they were back the way they were before any of this started.”
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