by Tess Rothery
Always had.
Shopping, no matter how much her mom had believed in it, hadn’t fixed the problem.
“No. Not yet. Who has time?”
“Or money?” Taylor remembered the straits Leon had left his family in and wished she hadn’t said anything. Annie hadn’t inherited a profitable business, fat savings account, and popular YouTube channel when her soon-to-be-ex had died.
“Funny you should say that. I got a call just yesterday from a bank I didn’t know about. He had quite the stash set aside.”
“What?” Taylor gripped the sleeve of a knit dress that swung on the rack next to her. Marva Love’s words about Leon being good with money came back to her. She had been distracted by the nasty durian smell, and it hadn’t registered as being untrue at the time.
“I don’t know if it was his escape fund, or what, but it’s ours now, and by God, we need it. Not quite the full thirty thousand he lost gambling, but very close.”
“Be careful with it. No rash decisions.”
“Yes, that’s what the banker cautioned as well. I promise I’m using my pottery money to buy our funeral clothes.”
A school age boy, Odin, Orrin? Taylor couldn’t remember, ran up to Annie. “Here.” He shoved a pair of pants at his mom. “Can we go now?”
Annie kissed the top of his head. He had a young face, but was rangy, tall like a weed, and came to her shoulder. “Not quite yet. Your sister and I aren’t done.”
“I think I am. It was nice to see you. Call if you need anything.” When Taylor got to her car, she realized she didn’t have anyone to run to with the news of Leon’s surprise bank account. Since she was going out with John Hancock, she felt just a little too guilty to call Hudson, Sissy was working, and telling Belle didn’t even occur to her.
“John, good to see you.” Todd, a well-dressed man Taylor had met on occasion when out with John Hancock, shook hands with her date for the night. The man looked at Taylor with a smile that turned to a frown of confusion. “Good to see you as well.”
Taylor shook the hand he offered.
“No Tatiana this evening?” Todd drew out the name as though it were a fine wine he was sampling.
John Hancock stepped closer and spoke quietly, “She’s back in New York defending her thesis.”
The well-dressed man nodded in approval. “Good luck getting a girl like that to come back here for a sod like you.”
The lobby of the University of Oregon’s Beall Hall was crowded and hot. Though Taylor’s blouse was a light satin, she was damp with sweat. Someone had said the central air was broken, but they said it in a way that made her think it was a joke. Her shoes were too tight as well.
Who was Tatiana?
She had tried to hold John’s hand as they walked to the auditorium, but he had taken a few steps forward, out of reach.
And yet, dinner had been pleasant. Laughing at the same old jokes. Glad to eat together.
He looked more casual than usual. Jeans this time, though he did have a sport coat on.
Her slim linen pencil skirt felt like too much. No one else was wearing a skirt.
But who was Tatiana?
She couldn’t ask because the lights flickered, and they had to find their seats. His seats. His regular seats.
He had a season pass, but this was the first one he had taken her to since before Christmas.
Had he been taking this…doctoral candidate instead?
Not that it mattered.
They had been in too much of a hurry during dinner to talk about the murders. She’d tried to bring it up, but John had merely nodded and said it sounded like a bad deal. Then he’d told her about how his brother’s pub was the go-to place for quiz nights.
He hadn’t said anything about some girl named Tatiana.
Tah-ti-ahhhh-na as Todd had said.
Like she was some supermodel who only had one name.
“Earth to Taylor.” John took her elbow. “Time to go in.”
Taylor did not enjoy the TV theme song symphony.
On the drive home, she felt sullen and moody.
“So, this murder really is getting to you,” John said after a long, silent drive through the country from Eugene back to Comfort.
“Who’s Tatiana?” It was a bold decision to flat-out ask her date about the other woman, but she’d get no rest till she knew what she was up against.
His face brightened. “Ahh. Tatiana.” He grinned. He beamed even. The light emanating from his happy face lit up the whole car, despite the dark outside. “Tatiana is the most beautiful, brilliant woman I have ever met in my life. I can’t even begin to describe how much I love her. She’s working on her thesis right now—it’s a finance thing, but so far above my pay grade I can’t even begin to understand it. I met her at quiz night. She dominated. Dominated.” He drew that word out too.
“Sounds lovely.” There was a distinctly poisoned tone to Taylor’s voice, but she wasn’t about to admit it.
“Hold on.” They rolled to a stop light, and he looked at her. “Don’t tell me that Taylor-Friends-Zone-Quinn is jealous?”
“I’m not.” And yet, she sat in the car with her arms crossed. She couldn’t change her physical position now because it would look like she realized it was a jealous way to sit.
“How’s Hudson?” He smirked when he asked.
The light changed.
“Fine.”
“When you play with fire…”
“Whatever. She sounds amazing. Have you ever in your whole life once met a woman who got excited about hearing how great some other lady is?”
He laughed. “That’s not very feminist of you.”
“Whatever.”
They were almost to her house.
“We’re still friends, right? Tatiana doesn’t change that for me.”
“How does Taaaah-ti-aaaaaah-na feel about it?”
He shrugged. “She’s not here, is she? And it’s no fun to go out alone when you can go out with a friend.”
She pictured all of their friendly dates, the hand holding, the intimate laughing, the one or two stolen kisses.
They weren’t really just friends.
She had been playing with fire.
And it was her feelings that got burnt.
“I don’t dare say that you already had your chance, do I?” He had hoped to take their casual dating to the next step the year before, but like all the men she’d been dating casually, she’d kept him at arm’s length.
“I’m not jealous.” They were stopped at her house now. She got out of her car before he could open the door.
“Great. I’ll call you when Tatiana gets back in town. We can all go out to eat. Me, Tatiana, you, Hudson, Clay, Reg, and maybe that kid that works at the Arco? I hear he’s single.” John’s eyes were laughing. He was thoroughly enjoying the moment.
“Sounds great. I’ll line them all up.” She shut his door with a bit of a slam and went up her front steps stomping a little.
He didn’t drive away till she was safely inside.
The front room was empty.
The whole house quiet.
Taylor was left alone with her thoughts.
Had she really, honestly, and truly expected to keep all of the men she was dating to herself? She was not willing to admit this might have been true. Not even close.
A loneliness settled over her as she got ready for bed. Her reason for not committing to Hudson had been the advice not to make major decisions after a crisis. But what if that was just an excuse? What if she knew the honest truth was that she didn’t love him? Wouldn’t ever love him? Even after that lovely night where he’d had no expectations of her and had just let her sleep? What if her four years with Clay had been the only years of love she’d been granted?
Her parents had been together for about fifteen years when her dad had died. They’d met in high school. By the time they were twenty, they had married and had her already. Only eleven years after that, he was gone. And her mother nev
er fell in love again.
It had seemed so short and tragic. Not seemed. It had been short and tragic.
What if the only love she’d ever have was even shorter? Just four years?
She snuggled into her bed, wrapping herself in the quilt her grandmother had made her for high school graduation. Both sets of her grandparents had decades of marriage. What if she never even got a wedding?
She supposed she should be happy for the four years she did have with love. Some people never got that. Her life wasn’t a tragedy just because…. no.
It was only fair to say her life was a tragedy.
But Clay Seldon was just two blocks up the street, in her apartment above the shop. If he was her one true love—if those four years were the only four she’d ever get as a real couple—why didn’t she go back to him? Couldn’t she forgive him for abandoning her when her mother died?
Others had hinted to her that quitting her job, selling the condo, and moving home to Comfort without even discussing it with him had made her at least partially to blame for their breakup.
Sure, he ought to have been mature and able to cope with those changes. He ought to have been willing to give it all up and come with her. But the same impulse that had driven her to make all of those changes had made him dig his heels in. He ought to have come. She ought to have had a conversation with him about it first.
If she could acknowledge that, then maybe there was a future for the two of them. Maybe she and Clay and John Hancock and Tatiana could be couple-friends and go to the symphony together. Clay liked fancy things like that. They could all vacation somewhere sunny together during the rainy season. It would be lovely to be part of a couple again. A real couple that was committed.
She pulled up Clay’s number on her phone, but her gut clenched with anger.
He had abandoned her when she needed him most.
Whether she had been wrong or not, that pain wasn’t going away anytime soon.
She opened YouTube instead and found her mom’s show. There was one in particular that she watched when she was sad or lonely or the weight of missing her got to be too much.
It was a silly one. Just a how-to for hand quilting. Her mom poked herself in the finger a few times, and her eyes started with tears.
Taylor fast forwarded to the important moment.
Laura Quinn, popular quilt YouTuber, quilt shop owner and mother, stared down at the tip of her finger as though it surprised her to feel pain. “I swear…” She was about to say something she shouldn’t and bit her lip. Then she sucked the tip of her finger and looked at the camera. The tears were there. Ready to spill. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told my babies to wear thimbles when they stitch.” She smiled through the tears. “Because I would do anything in the world to save them pain. But do I protect myself? Nope. We moms, we always think we can tough it out. Take one for the team. I mean, not you all. You’re smart enough to wear your thimbles. Mine’s not in the sewing kit because I loaned it to my baby, Belle, and forgot to get it back, but I’m standing here, in the middle of my quilt shop,” she emphasized with a laugh, “and I didn’t just grab one. Like I’m invincible. Or like it doesn’t matter if I hurt anymore. But you know what? It does matter. I’m not talking to myself. I’m talking to you guys. To all of you who give away your thimbles or your lunch or your last spare minute. It matters if you get hurt. You matter.”
Taylor paused the video and stared at her mom. Did a kid, even a grown-up kid, ever really recognize all the little ways their mothers sacrificed for them? The tears in her mom’s eyes were paused, like the video. Ready to spill, but not spilling. Real, but not real anymore. Taylor gave in to her sadness, letting her own tears spill, letting herself hurt, because her mom said she mattered.
She pulled her blanket up over her head and let herself feel like that scared kid again.
Shuffling footsteps in the hall seemed to echo her heartache, slow, shaky, heavy.
Not like Belle’s footsteps.
Not like Belle’s footsteps.
Taylor held her breath.
Someone was in the hall, and it wasn’t Belle.
The sound stopped right at her door.
“Taylor…” a low voice called out. “Taylor.” Then a cough.
Taylor screamed.
Like a girl.
Like a scared child.
She didn’t think about waking Belle or Grandpa. She didn’t think about anything. She wrenched the blanket in her hands and screamed.
“Taylor?” The voice, again, then the door opening.
A stranger stood there in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, backlit from the hall light.
“Taylor, what the hell?” Belle’s voice rang down the hall. “You could wake the dead. Levi, come back to bed.”
Levi.
Levi with the flu.
Levi coughed. “I just wanted some aspirin.”
Belle sighed dramatically. “It’s in the bathroom.”
“It’s not,” he had a whiny voice.
“It’s the middle of the night.” Taylor was still clutching her blanket.
‘It’s only eleven.”
“Why are you still at our house?” Taylor asked.
Levi coughed.
“You have a twin bed.” Taylor rubbed her eyes.
“He’s sleeping on an air mattress. Come on, buddy, I’ll get you some aspirin.” She took his arm, and he followed her with his heavy, shuffling step.
Taylor pulled her blanket over her head again.
Levi needed to go home.
Chapter Eighteen
Taylor was haunted all day by the idea that she was selfish, greedy even. Her mother’s video about self-sacrifice and thimbles seemed to call her out. At least that’s what her guilty conscience said. She felt like she owed Hudson an apology. He was the one she had toyed with the worst. She held her phone, ready to text him several times throughout the day, breathing in relief every time she was interrupted by a customer.
Around closing time, Clay sauntered down in his sock feet.
“You look comfy.” Taylor frowned at his wooly toes pointedly.
“Staying in tonight.” He yawned.
“We’re not closed yet.”
He glanced at the wall clock behind the register and laughed. “Sorry. He pulled a tall stool up to the worktable. “I’m ordering a pizza. Want to join me?” He patted his slinged arm, almost begging for sympathy.
“No.” She could feel her eyebrows drawing together against her will. The shocked, maybe even horrified, look you give a child who has a stupid idea.
“I thought you’d like that I was staying put. Not driving and all that.”
She pressed her hand to her forehead. “I’ve been trying to forget your little accident since it happened.”
He gently touched his bruised nose.
“I’m surprised you don’t have plans with Joey.” Taylor wasn’t sure she’d pulled off a casual sound. She didn’t want to feel jealous, and she really didn’t want to sound jealous.
“She took some old folks to the casino again. Won’t be home for another hour or so and will probably be wiped out.” His eyes were bright, but Taylor sensed disappointment.
“Too bad you couldn’t meet her out there.”
“Hadn’t thought of it.”
“There’s a good restaurant. Maybe the gang is staying to eat.”
He was already texting, probably Joey. He looked up with a grin. “This was not the official Leon Farkas Memorial Gambling event, just another one of many. They are staying to eat at the Cedar Plank Buffet.”
“Could be worse.”
“Come with?”
She grimaced again, like his idea was remarkably stupid. Then she paused. She could get the shop closed for the night pretty fast. Grandpa Ernie was far from alone with Belle there and Levi skulking around the house. And…there just might be someone at the casino who could shed light on Leon’s death. Surely someone in this town knew something. They had to. They just didn�
��t know they knew it. Especially if any of these folks were on the cusp of needing to move to the memory care wing.
“Yes. Actually, I could use a good old-fashioned buffet.”
He lifted an eyebrow with a cheeky smile, patted his sling again and said, “You drive.”
She closed up shop in record time, and the drive to Spirit Mountain Casino was quick and painless. The party from Bible Creek Care Home hadn’t made it to the buffet yet, but Taylor and Clay found them cashing in their bingo wins.
Clay and Joey spotted each other, and the moment was electric.
Delicate little Mrs. Sylvester giggled.
Boggy Hudson gave Joey an avuncular look of pride as she smiled at Taylor’s ex.
Taylor stiffened, but reminded herself she wasn’t here for his company. She was here for the mystery.
She joined Mrs. Sylvester as they walked to the buffet. Boggy, Hudson’s grandpa, had smiled at her and seemed to want to join them, but that guilt that had been riding her all day, the guilt that she hadn’t been fair to Hudson, made her look away in embarrassment. Instead she asked Mrs. Sylvester how the day had gone. “Win anything?”
Mrs. Sylvester rolled her eyes, such a youthful, casual expression it took Taylor by surprise. She looked around the crowd as they made their slow way to their dinner. They were all casual, relaxed. Not the same formal company they had been at the tea party. Boggy laughed loudly at something a short woman in a red denim jacket said to him. She swatted at his arm.
What had Taylor expected? It was a day at the casino, not a trip to church. But she was still surprised. “I’m glad to see everyone having such a good time.”
“The casino is always fun.”
“I wasn’t sure. I thought it might be quite sad this time, because of Leon.”
Mrs. Sylvester clucked. “He wouldn’t want us to be sad. Besides, the dividend checks came in, so we’re celebrating him.”
“Dividend checks?”
She put her finger to her pursed lips.
“What do you mean, though, did he help you invest?”
“We really weren’t supposed to talk about it. I wasn’t sure what would happen once he passed. We’re all celebrating that today.” She paused and lowered her voice to a whisper.