When finished, she hastily dressed in order to trap the warmth between her skin and clothing. On her way out, she asked if she could have two plates of food to go.
Chapter 7
Paige watched the people who had lined up outside the soup kitchen file in and wait to be seated. Many of them, she assumed, were mentally unstable and unable to work to support themselves, but many others she thought were people who had fallen on hard times and needed temporary help. Most of them, she speculated, did not have stable housing nor money to purchase their own food. Tracy’s and other similar facilities allowed them to be in survival mode, a grim situation at best.
She prepared a boxed meal for the woman she had seen here for the past several weeks. There was something about her that intrigued Paige, made her wonder about her story, which category she fell into. The hollow, unexplained feeling that bore into the pit of her stomach whenever she saw her confused her, making it difficult to get the words out as she spoke to her today.
“Here you go… What’s your name, dear?”
Without making direct eye contact, the woman said, “Um…Margo.”
Paige handed her the box. Her gaze went straight to the woman’s neck—no necklace this time.
“Can I get a box for my daughter too?” the woman asked. “She’s in the car.”
Paige prepared a second box to go.
“How old is your daughter?” Paige asked when she handed the box to her.
The woman glanced up at Paige without answering her question and left. Something she saw in her eyes concerned her.
“Hard to tell who it’s for,” said Tracy, who stood within earshot. “Could be for her daughter, like she said, or it could be a second meal for herself for later, or maybe a friend.”
“Sad either way.”
“I saw that she used the shower room,” Tracy said. “Excuse me while I go tidy it up.”
As Paige finished up her shift, she couldn’t stop thinking about Margo. She didn’t have that seasoned, worn look about her that most of the other patrons had, and her clothes looked better than the majority of the other people who frequented Tracy’s.
“Has she been coming in here for very long?” Paige asked Tracy in the food-prep area a little later. “The one who asked for the second boxed meal to go. She told me her name is Margo.”
“No, she’s fairly new. Comes in every day and then asks for an extra meal.”
“Hmm.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” said Paige. “She seems to stand apart from the other customers.”
“I know what you mean, but sometimes it’s hard to tell by someone’s outward appearance what they’re going through.”
“I suppose. Hey, what’s this?” Paige picked up a ring that was sitting on the ledge over the sink.
“Oh, I found it in the shower room,” Tracy said. “Looks like a man’s ring.”
Paige stared at the ring in disbelief, then examined it more closely including inside the band. “This is my father’s ring!” she said, catching her breath.
“Your father’s? How could that be? I just found it today. Just a few minutes ago.”
She showed Tracy the inscription, her father’s initials.
“Well, I don’t know how something of your father’s could have gotten there. I sweep those rooms every day, the bathroom and the shower room, and I have a cleaning service come in once a week to scrub them down. Your father hasn’t been here in how long? Over a month?”
“It’s been over two months. He wore this ring every day.”
“Did you see it after he died?”
“No, that’s just it. We couldn’t find it after my mother’s home was broken into while we were at his funeral service. We assumed it had been stolen.”
“Could you have put it in your pocket at some point, forgot about it, and now it dropped out of your pocket or something? Maybe it hadn’t been stolen after all.”
“No, I would have remembered doing that. And I obviously wasn’t in the shower room today. Where exactly did you find it?”
“On the floor, under the bench, peeking out from under the common wall to the bathroom. There’s a half-inch gap between that wall and the floor, so I think someone could have dropped it in either room the way it landed. Did you use the restroom today?”
“No.”
“If it was between the two rooms, like you say, under the partition, could you or the cleaning people have missed it when you cleaned?”
“Not the cleaning people. They use a wet mop on the floor and it goes under the partition. I’ve watched them.”
“What about when you sweep?”
“I suppose it’s possible, but not very likely. I run a push broom along all the edges of each room before I sweep the middle. I’m pretty sure I would have come in contact with it on at least one side.”
Paige’s mind went straight to Margo—the only person she had seen use the shower room this day—before her thoughts froze.
Even though she had a stack of market reports to analyze, Paige didn’t go back to the office when her shift at the soup kitchen ended. Instead, she called her assistant Olivia to tell her she wouldn’t be in for the rest of the day. Then she picked up a bouquet of white roses at a nearby florist and drove to Briana’s grave. She’d learned the hard way not to try to push heightened memories of her daughter into the shadows when they surfaced, which typically came without warning, like now, as this only made them more persistent. These memories, she had realized, often had a life of their own.
The weather, always unpredictable this time of year, had suddenly turned cold. Paige turned up the collar of her Hermés jacket to keep the chill in the air off her neck as she walked toward her daughter’s grave. She sat down with the flowers in her lap, ignoring the cold dampness of the bench.
Silence hung in the cemetery air until eventually broken by the melodious notes of a lone warbler. Seeing her daughter’s headstone brought back a flood of emotions. Her heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of emptiness. She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander until she saw a vision of how Briana might look today as a pre-teen. When she opened her eyes, she uttered aloud her name, and despite her tears and broken heart, smiled.
Paige drove to her mother’s house, feeling better for having made the visit. She found connecting with Briana’s grave comforting, even though all it held were the decomposed remains of her little body.
Her mother’s clenched jaw told Paige she was upset about something—most likely the number of days that had elapsed since her last visit.
“Everything okay?” Paige asked her.
“Yes. Fine. Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Just asking. You look like you’re upset about something.”
“How about you? I missed you last week,” her mother said, changing the subject.
“I was here last week. On Monday, I think.”
“Monday. Today’s Wednesday.”
“I would have come over Monday, but—”
“No problem,” her mother said as she retreated to the kitchen.
Nine days instead of seven. So shoot me. She had been chin-deep in reviewing critical sales statistics for two days straight, but no use telling her mother this.
She followed her mother to the kitchen and, before sitting down in her usual chair, picked up a crumpled piece of paper next to the trash can. Just as she was about to toss it away, she recognized the handwriting as her father’s.
“What’s this?”
“That belongs in the trash. Give it to me.”
Paige backed away from her mother and smoothed out the wrinkles on the paper so she could read the words. When her mother moved closer to try to grab the paper, Paige backed away even more.
She read the first two lines before her hand rose to her throat. “It’s a letter from Dad. Why did you throw it away?”
“Give it to me, Paige.”
“No. I want to read it.”
/> Her mother stopped moving. “Go ahead then,” she said in a weakened voice. “Read it.”
Paige read it aloud.
My Dearest Elaine,
I write this as my days are numbered. With any luck, you won’t read it until I’m gone. Shows what a coward I really am.
Paige looked at her mother. “What’s he talking about?”
Her mother sighed. “Keep reading.”
I did the best I could to provide for you over the years, and I hope you’ve been reasonably happy. And while I admit to having told a long river of lies over the years, I’m not lying when I say I’ve always loved you. No matter what you learn after I’m gone, please never forget this. And that goes for Paige and Natalie too. You three have always been first and foremost in my heart.
Ah, the power of secrets. Maybe you’ll never find out about the rest, and I will have written this letter for naught. But if you do, please forgive me.
Love,
Ryan
Her father calling himself a coward and asking for forgiveness for lying conflicted with everything Paige knew and felt about her father. A big, deep-voiced bear of a man, he had always been gentle, kind, and caring. It was he who had taught her the importance of honesty. She had looked up to him her whole life in part because of his integrity.
Paige glanced up from the letter and shook her head. “I don’t get it.”
“I don’t either,” her mother said unconvincingly, her expression unreadable. “Just toss it.”
Paige read from the last paragraph. “‘Maybe you’ll never find out about the rest,’ means you know something already. Why did you crumple it up?”
Her mom shrugged.
“Mom, what do you know?”
“Nothing. I know nothing.” Her tone was confident, but an underlying uncertainty sent a different message. “Nothing for sure.”
“Well, what do you know ‘not for sure’?”
Her mother sat down and put her hands on the table, methodically folding one over the other.
“I’m not sure which lies he’s talking about.”
“Which ones? He told that many?”
“We all lie now and again. It’s human nature.”
Stunned by her mother’s response, Paige asked, “What kind of lies?”
“I don’t know, Paige. Little white ones, I suppose.”
“Like what?”
“Like where’s he’s been. Mostly that, I guess.”
“For his work?”
“There were times I knew he’d lied about being at work.”
“How long was this going on?”
“Always, I guess, now that I think about it, but more so after you and Natalie left home.”
“What makes you think he wasn’t telling you the truth?”
“I don’t know. A gut feeling. Sometimes you just know when someone is lying.”
“Like he said he was in one city on business, and you thought he was somewhere else?”
“Something like that.”
“Did you just find the note?”
She nodded. “In one of my dresser drawers.”
“Well, let me add a little tidbit about Dad. I found his ring.”
“Where?”
“At Tracy’s.”
“The soup kitchen?”
“Yep.”
“What was it doing there? Did he take it off one day and leave it there?”
Paige told her mother about the strange woman Margo, and how Tracy had found the ring.
“You think this homeless woman had something to do with your father’s ring?”
“I know she did.”
“Paige, you said yourself that it was feasible that someone dropped the ring in the bathroom and it rolled toward the shower room wall. Slid underneath. It could have been anyone.”
“No, I’m convinced it was her.”
“You think she’s the one who broke into the house and stole it?”
Paige shook her head. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
“What about Natalie?” her mother asked.
“What about her?”
“Don’t you think you owe her an apology?”
“I wouldn’t if you hadn’t gone and told her I suspected she took it.”
“Makes no difference. She was so upset about it.”
“Fine. I’ll call her.”
“And you might want to think this through, sweetie, trying to find out about the ring, that is. It could lead to something…well, that you don’t want to know. Take it from me.”
“You know me better than that, Mom. I can’t let go of things I don’t understand. And certainly not this. If she stole it, the police should be told about it. They’ll investigate.”
Her mother’s grimace was telling.
“What’s the matter?” Paige asked. “We need to find out the truth.”
“That, my dear, is what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter 8
Jessivel considered changing soup kitchens—they were getting to know her at Tracy’s, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like what it said about her—that she was either lazy, crazy, or couldn’t afford to buy food for herself. But after thinking about it more, she decided the same thing could happen at any kitchen, and pretty soon she’d run out of places to eat. Besides, Tracy’s was different—they seemed to care about the people who went there, which was a huge bonus on one hand, but also a double-edged sword. And they had a not-so-bad shower room.
That woman who said her name was Paige had shown an interest in her, always on a Wednesday. She seemed nice enough, but it was hard to tell where the “helping the needy” façade ended and the real person began. She didn’t like her eyes. She couldn’t tell what she was really thinking, which is why she had felt compelled to give her a fake name the previous week. The woman always asked how she and her daughter were getting along, and that was none of her business. She looked like she came from money—likely a rich woman trying to feel good about helping poor fools like her.
Still bummed about losing her father’s ring, Jessivel had scoured the church parking lot twice since finding the chain, but with no luck. She was angry with Kayla—if she hadn’t bolted like that, she wouldn’t have lost the ring.
Today, having decided to stay with Tracy’s for the time being, she went early to avoid the crowd. She went in alone as usual, not feeling comfortable bringing Kayla inside, as she had never seen a child in the place. She threatened Kayla that if she didn’t stay in the car while she got their food, she would be in big trouble. Kayla, of course, resented this treatment.
To Jessivel’s relief, a volunteer other than Paige greeted her at the door and showed her to a table. Someone else quickly served her a plate of turkey, stuffing, and green beans. When she was finished, she walked up to the service window, like she always did, and asked for a plate to go for Kayla.
A few feet from the car, she felt a tap on her shoulder. When she turned around, she stood face-to-face with Paige.
“Can I talk to you for a minute, Margo?”
“Why? What did I do?”
“Nothing. I just want to have a word with you.”
Jessivel took a step back.
Paige took a step back herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Maybe we could sit for a minute…and talk?” She pointed to a nearby bench. “Over there, perhaps?”
“I have to get back to my daughter,” Jessivel said before she turned toward her car.
“Please?”
Jessivel didn’t want to talk to her—didn’t want to deal with her beyond getting a free meal—but she knew that if she continued to come back for food, it would just be a matter of time before Paige said whatever it was she wanted to say. Okay, let’s get this over with.
“Let me give this to my daughter first.”
She opened the car door to a pouting Kayla. “Why do I always have to stay in the car?”
“Because… that’s why.”
“Who’s that lady?
”
“Just someone from inside. I’m going to talk to her while you eat, okay?”
“Why did she call you Margo?”
“Never mind. Eat your meal. And roll up this window.”
“Fine.”
Jessivel sat down on the bench as far from Paige as she could get.
“I was wondering if this looked familiar to you,” Paige said, holding a ring in the palm of her hand.
The sight of it made Jessivel gasp. “Where did you find it?”
“The owner found it in the shower room after you left last Wednesday. I wondered if maybe you had dropped it.”
Jessivel went to pluck the ring from Paige’s palm, but Paige closed her hand before she could reach it.
“That’s my ring. Give it back to me,” Jessivel said, the tightness in her chest causing her to feel unsteady even in a seated position. “That ring belongs to me!”
“May I ask you where you got it from?”
“Why do you need to know that? It’s mine.”
“How long have you had it?”
Uncertain of where Paige was going with this line of questioning, Jessivel hesitated long enough to collect her thoughts. “Look, that’s my ring. I lost it last week, and I want it back.”
“This was my father’s ring,” Paige said, the change of pitch in her voice noticeable. “His initials are engraved on the inside.”
“Bullshit. That’s impossible. Now, give it to me.” Jessivel grabbed the ring out of Paige’s hand and ran to her car, not caring what Paige thought of her. Within seconds, she was accelerating down the street away from the soup kitchen.
“What was that all about?” Kayla asked as she clung to her box of half-eaten food.
“Nothing.”
“Can you slow down? We’re going to get into an accident. Who was that woman?”
“I told you, she works in the soup kitchen. And look! She found Poppy’s ring.” She held up her hand for Kayla to see.
“Where?”
“I must have dropped it when I was in there last week. Yes, that’s it! When you and I were fighting in the parking lot, the chain broke, and the ring must have gotten stuck in my clothes somewhere. Then, when I undressed in the shower room, it fell out, but I didn’t notice it.”
The Ring Page 5