“We must be strong,” he whispered.
…
“Yes. Bye.”
Bye.”
…
…
Click.
Chapter 45
───
DAZED, THE WILDER FAMILY performed the tasks that needed to be done following Gramp’s death, following his wishes. He was cremated and two days later the family arranged for a quiet memorial service at the little church on the hill in Port Gamble.
Friends and family attended. All of Gilly’s staff was there including Hawk and Arthur’s wife Cindy. Philip Wellington, Detective DuBois and Skip arrived together.
Stacy Sinclair and her husband had just returned from Hawaii. Hearing the news they came to support Gilly. Helen Churchill and her husband made a surprise appearance. They sat in row fourteen of the fifteen rows of pews.
The service was short. The minister summed up his remarks saying that Clay Wilder was a stalwart member of the community, loved and respected by all who knew him. Will gave the eulogy, talking about his loving father and how much he adored his granddaughter and great granddaughter. The organist accompanied a trio from the church choir who sang the hymn, Amazing Grace. The minister closed with a prayer.
That was it?
Gramps was so much more. It didn’t seem right. A man’s life summed up in so few words.
The mourners filed into the assembly hall for refreshments provided by the Port Gamble Tea Room. Conversation was quiet, hushed, as they shared experiences and memories of Clay Wilder and his wife Betty. Gilly saw the Churchill’s leaving through the front door. It was nice that they at least made an appearance. She didn’t feel she had the strength to rush after them, to talk to them. But she did, thanking them for coming, hoping all was well with them. They did not respond. Turned away, walked down the small hill to the street, climbed into their car and drove away.
Those from across the sound left for the five o’clock ferry to Seattle and the Wilder’s drove to Hansville. They settled in the kitchen—the enormity of the empty chair at the head of the table hitting them hard.
Gilly reached for the teakettle, stroked the handle, gulped for air and turned on the burner. No one seemed to know what to say. So, Gilly filled the kettle put it on the glowing burner and looked ahead to Saturday.
“Mom, I hope you don’t mind. Skip asked if it was all right if he and Agatha came over for his Saturday training run. He has another month before the marathon. I told him I was sure you wouldn’t mind.”
“That’s good, dear,” she said with a small sigh. “Will you be coming on Saturday … as usual?”
“Yes, I want him to know I still support what he’s doing.” Doing, she thought. His goal was to finish the marathon and then to ask her what she wanted to do with her future. Was there a we in their future?
───
THE NEXT MORNING, at high tide, Will held Anne’s hand as they navigated the rickety stairs to the deck below, the Queen Betty, then down the ladder to the beach. Gilly handed the two urns to her father—Grandma Betty’s ashes, and Gramp’s—then handed Robyn down to Anne’s open arms, and then she climbed down the ladder to join them on the beach.
The day was sunny and warm for late October. It was peaceful. The only sound was the soft rhythmic waves lapping at the pilings of Queen Betty’s deck and the squawk of an occasional seagull looking to plunge into the icy waters for a fish breakfast.
Will unscrewed the cap of Grandma Betty’s urn, releasing her ashes into the soft breeze swirling out over the water. Will picked up Gramp’s urn and handed it to Gilly. Closing her eyes she thanked him for his words of comfort and wisdom less than thirty minutes before he died. Opening her eyes, she released his ashes.
A whoosh of wind grasped the ashes and swept them higher and higher into the air, farther and farther out over the water. Gilly lifted Robyn from her mother’s arms and pointed her finger up in the sky. The infant was mesmerized by a seagull floating on the whoosh of air. She patted Gilly’s cheek, then pointed up pushing her mother’s chin up to see the bird. Suddenly another seagull joined the first, climbing higher and higher … out of sight.
Gilly hugged her baby watching as Gramps was once again united with his beloved wife.
Chapter 46
───
Seattle
THE FERRY JOSTLED AGAINST the pilings as it pulled into Pier 52. It was Gilly’s first day back to the shop, the day after releasing Gramp’s ashes. Her car bumped off the ramp and she fell into line waiting her turn at the stoplight. Parking in the back of her building, she hesitated then walked around to the front. Standing on the sidewalk in front of the shop that bore her name, she gazed at the window displays.
Somehow it looked different.
Maybe I’m different, she thought.
She had never experienced grief before, the loss of someone close. She had been scared when she found out she was pregnant. Scared seeing the flames of the fire—the fire that gutted her shop, studio, and loft where she, Nicole, and Gabby lived. The space Robyn first came to know as home. She had experienced excruciating fright when Robyn was kidnapped. But this feeling of loss was new, raw, shutting down her spirit.
Pushing against the plate-glass door she entered her shop which normally brought a smile to her face, a spring to her step at the beauty of the gleaming glass display cases, numerous mirrors giving the illusion of a large space, yet the indirect lighting providing a cozy, intimate feeling, clients feeling that the designs were made for them and them alone.
The salesgirl smiled, said hello as Gilly passed. Gilly nodded and continued to the stairs leading to the loft—her apartment and design studio. Gabby called out to her, she waved and climbed the stairs. Entering her apartment she paused, looked around—everything was the same except for the flowers. There were several bouquets, people offering sympathy she supposed. Nicole and Gabby had broken the arrangements into smaller bouquets so they didn’t look like they had come from a funeral. She felt tears burning her eyes and quickly looked away.
Her design studio, her haven, her escape, was also as she had left it. Thankfully there were no flowers. Dropping her tote on a chair, she walked to the gallery board—her designs for the spring collection were in a long row. She saw a flaw in the draping of the sleeveless dress. Scrutinizing the drawing, she saw how she could remedy the error and quickly retrieved her electronic tablet from her tote. It was a spark inside her, not a shock, but a spark nonetheless and she recognized the faint surge of her blood—what was it Gramps had said, that she had a creative passion inside her for design.
Nicole burst through the door, stopped, not sure what to do, what to say. Gilly opened her arms to her vivacious friend and Nicole responded, the two hugging, rocking side to side.
It felt good to be back.
Gabby stepped through the door. “Okay, it’s my turn,” she said trading places with Nicole.
“Well, it’s about time, girlfriend,” Maria called from the doorway, setting down steaming cups of coffee from the deli down the street. She gave Gilly a quick squeeze, not daring to linger for fear they’d all start crying.
Today was to be a celebration.
The boss was back.
Conversation started slowly. Arthur came in, picked up his coffee. “Good to see you, Gilly. I have some numbers to show you when you have a minute.” He smiled and left. Arthur, the accountant. Who would have thought he knew that talking about the numbers showed more compassion than a funeral bouquet or even a card.
The chatter picked up steam and with the snap of the finger they were in animated discussions about the spring collection, LA Fashion week, the buyers, orders, marketing status. At one point, Gilly raced into the apartment retrieving a small bouquet of daisies. She placed them on one end of the table. She smiled at the alarmed look on the girls’ faces. Nicole had shown the card to Gabby when the bouquet arrived the day before. The flowers were from Maddy. The only words: “Thinking about you.”
/> “Don’t worry, just thought we needed to bring in a little sunshine. Did you know that a daisy never dies? It opens and closes with the sun,” she said smiling. “Now, about what to include in your lookbook, Maria …”
The days passed as Gilly picked up the pieces of her life. The girls noticed, however, that one hour she was up the next down. One hour she was engaged throwing out assignments, the next she was withdrawn, staring at her tablet, stylus relaxed in her fingers instead of sketching—stroking lines, picking up colors offered on the software’s color palette.
On Friday night, Maria went home. Nicole and Gabby retired to their bedrooms.
All were exhausted.
───
THE STARS TWINKLED IN the night sky. It was nine o’clock. Robyn was nestled in her crib. The apartment was still. An occasional siren, a car honking, street sounds could be heard. Gilly looked at her cell phone lying on her bedside table. She saw it vibrate—6 a.m. in Paris. If Maxime called, it was usually about this time of night. They would only speak briefly. Swap snippets of their day, always a little about Robyn, and then he’d wish her a good night’s sleep.
Gilly sent Gabby and Maria to scout out the October LA fashion show with strict instructions to check in on Sheridan. Gabby called on their first night with her report. Sheridan and partner Zak had vacated their orange stucco studio. The tenant next door said they left in a hurry one night. Poof, they were gone—no forwarding address. Stiffed the neighbor for fifty dollars to pay the light bill, promising to pay the money back the next day. He never saw them again.
Gabby and Maria returned two days later full of marketing, sales, and promotion ideas they could offer at the March show.
And so the last two weeks of October went, long days at first, Gramps never far from her thoughts. Then the tempo began to pick up.
Every three nights or so, there was a nine o’clock call from Maxime. Every five or so days a package arrived for Robyn—clothes, or a stuffed animal, or some new toy on the market guaranteed to captivate an infant.
Saturdays marked the end or the beginning of the week depending on how you looked at it. They were spent in Hansville. Gilly at first returned to Seattle with Robyn after Skip’s run and lunch, but then she started to spend the night, Anne loving the unexpected new routine. She had more time with Robyn as Gilly worked on the fall collection for the March show in Los Angeles. Skip spent Sunday in Gramp’s den. He had a fresh angle on a new novel.
Anne prepared an early Sunday dinner while Will bundled Robyn up, taking her for a walk perched on his shoulders. Skip and Gilly, with Robyn, drove to the ferry after Sunday dinner meeting in the passenger lounge for coffee, and then bumping off the ferry’s ramp they went their separate ways, rested for Monday morning.
Suddenly another week had passed. Gilly flipped the page of the calendar and stared at November, the rows of squares making up the weeks.
Saturday morning again.
Gilly packed her rolling suitcase and a gym bag with Robyn’s paraphernalia. She called out to Nicole that she was leaving and would be back after Sunday dinner.
Chapter 47
───
FOCUS. FOCUS. FOCUS.
In. In.
Out. Out.
Skip’s feet slapped the pavement.
“I feel good. I feel powerful. I’m a marathoner,” he shouted to Bossy. She was now his pet cow, always there, every Saturday, mile five. He laughed. Bossy was in his first mental tape. When he was heading for the finish line he would run his tape over and over in his mind. Bossy and five, four, three, two, one, FINISH!
He smiled, waved, as the motorcycle pair shot passed him.
Pulled out the Gatorade, downed half, capped, back into his pack.
In. In.
Out. Out.
I can do this, he thought. Eighteen today. Thirty-six for the week.
In. In.
Out. Out.
Last long run. Final two weeks, cut the Saturday run in half. Nine miles. Hell, that’ll be easy. Then coach says let the body taper off, store up energy for the big one, the big day, the marathon. Running then takes a backseat to my nutrition—lots of carbs, fluids, and the mental stuff—training tapes. He laughed. Coach says to fine-tune my engine, fill my gas tank, excite my brain. He laughed. My brain is excited—Gilly will be waiting.
In. In.
Out. Out.
Turning down the driveway, Skip spotted Gilly’s car. His shirt was soaked from perspiration as he strolled into the kitchen to see who was around. Will was in the living room reading the newspaper, Anne lying on the couch catching a nap before the afternoon wave of activity. Will glanced up, whispered, “Gilly’s in the guesthouse, Robyn’s asleep. Why don’t you take a shower down here?”
After freshening up, Skip sauntered up to the guesthouse with Agatha, rapped on the door and went inside. Gilly set down her tablet and smiled. Coco sat at the end of the table.
“How’d the run go?” she asked leaning back in her chair.
“I think I’m ready. Ready for the big day … 26.2 miles,” he said with an easy smile flopping down in the green garden chair giving Coco a few strokes down her back.
“Are you drinking coffee these days or is it off the training diet?”
“Cut back, but not off.” He rose, helped himself nodding to her with the pot in his hand. She declined. “How was the fashion business this week?’
“Um. Okay, I guess. Some good, some okay, nothing bad. Skip, you haven’t introduced me to your parents. Is there some reason—
“No reason, I didn’t think, well, it didn’t feel … I’d like you to meet them. I’ve talked a lot about you. Mom’s asked. How about dinner … out … next week?”
He frowned hearing his boss’s ringtone. He stuck his fist into his pocket and put the phone to his ear. He didn’t appreciate the intrusion.
Gilly watched him as spoke one word answers to whoever was on the other end of the line.
“Damn. That was my editor,” he said jamming his phone back into his pocket. “I have to go. There’s been a murder at a liquor store, and they want me on it right away.” He stomped around the small space. “Which, of course, means I have to get going … with the ferry, I can’t get there for over an hour. Sorry. I had hoped we could spend some time together. Apologize to your mom.”
Gilly stood. “I will. Don’t forget about dinner with your parents next week.”
“I won’t,” he stepped to her, held her face in his hands and gave her lips a quick peck. He held the gaze with her eyes for a brief second and then turned to leave. As he bolted through the door, Agatha on his heels, he called over his shoulder that he’d be in touch.
Gilly watched the black Jeep race down the road and then decided to check the mailbox before letting her mom know there would be one less for lunch. She found two greeting-card size envelopes. She recognized the handwriting on one, addressed to Anne and Will Wilder, without looking at the return address. Maxime. The second card was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. William Wilder, the handwriting a little shaky. The return address: Madeleine Beaumont. She surmised that they both carried messages of condolence.
Gilly’s eyes glazed as she pictured Maddy, in front of the barn, paintbrush in her hand, the bouquet of flowers in the cobalt blue vase sitting on the white lace doily beside her easel.
Chapter 48
───
Seattle
MARATHON DAY!
Tossing and turning, Skip finally gave up, swung his legs off the bed, and performed his stretching routine. Walking to the kitchen, he did a few head rolls, snatched a bottle of water from the refrigerator and began the hydration of his body. Drinking from the bottle, he lowered his head to see Agatha sitting patiently by her food bowl. Skip squatted and scratched her ears. “Okay, Aggie. Food then out to do your business, but that’s it. Afraid you have to stay home alone today.”
His pooch taken care of, Skip returned to the bedroom to put on his running clothes. When he registered
he received a long-sleeved shirt made of a special material that wicks away moisture and keeps runners at a comfortable temperature. He learned the hard way to avoid cotton at all cost. At the time he registered, feeling confident, he pre-ordered a Finisher shirt.
He pulled on his light-weight pants over his running shorts. The pants could be tied around his waist along with the windbreaker if he got too hot. He looked over his list once again. There was one last item to attend to.
Picking up the little black-velvet box in his dresser drawer, he removed the diamond ring and slipped it into his trouser pocket pushing the Velcro tab down. Not only was he going to finish the marathon but he was going to ask Gilly to marry him.
Turning on the television for one last check of the weather, he heard that today luck was with the runners—forty-eight degrees now and the expected high was in the upper fifties, overcast with a light north-west wind. With a fist pump, he switched off the television.
Gilly told him she and the girls were going to wear red jackets over blue jeans so he could spot them. The plan was that they would meet him at the starting area. Give him a raucous send off and then, with Maria’s knowledge of Seattle’s back roads, avoid the roadblocks and find spots on the route that were virtually void of people. They’d keep cheering for him; hand him a bottle of Gatorade if he ran out, extra bandages, hat, whatever.
Giggling, Gilly showed him the list they had put together. In return he had given her the list of suggested cheering spots: 5th Avenue, Lake Washington Boulevard, Dexter Avenue, and Mercer Street. Of course, everyone knew about these locations so Maria’s plan might work out better.
Skip was going to park at the Westin hotel. Shuttles were available to transport runners, family and friends to Seattle Center—the start area. The finish line was located on the track in Memorial Stadium.
Murder by Design Trilogy Page 58