by Tess Rothery
“Oh.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “What did you want to know?”
“Anything, really. Maybe we can have coffee later today. When is your shift over?”
“Seven, but I have to pick my mom up from work, so we can meet there, I guess. Sacred Grounds. They close at eight, so we’d have a little time.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. I just want to help.
“Did you say you’re Taylor from Flour Sax?” Asha asked.
“Yes, that’s me. I’ve helped with these sorts of things before.” Taylor wanted to establish some kind of connection with the girl, even if it was just helping Asha think talking to Taylor was normal.
Asha nodded. “I guess you’ll want to know all about Larry, then.” She furrowed her brows in confusion. “You’re not married, but I guess you’re his step-mom or something.”
Taylor took a quick step back. “No, um. I…I’ll see you just after seven, at Sacred Grounds.”
She slipped out quickly. She wished the gossip in Comfort didn’t linger so long. Hudson had left for Montana right after Christmas. Had it been because of the news about Larry? Surely not.
She kicked her heels for a minute at the door of The Yarnery. That hadn’t gone well. She wanted to find Graham and have him help her figure out what to ask Asha. But if Asha was going to bring up Larry and Hudson, she’d be hopeless no matter how Graham coached her.
She needed to talk to Molly Kay’s Aunt Brenda immediately. If she could get Brenda alone, surely, she would tell her all about her niece, and Molly and Hudson’s son.
Brenda was at home and welcomed her in, but she wasn’t home alone.
Cheryl, Hudson’s mom, stood guard in the kitchen.
“We all knew.” Cheryl’s tone was smug, but her face was tired.
Taylor sat down at the dark wood bar-height table in Brenda’s kitchen. She stared at the top. It had a couple of scratches in its finish and the bright wood underneath showed in tiny scars. She counted the little scratches while trying to figure out what to say.
“Obviously we couldn’t tell Hudson. Not until Molly was ready. But wee Laurence is my grandson.”
“Shush, Cheryl.” Brenda sounded tired and had a faraway look on her face. “Molly wasn’t sure, that’s the honest truth. No one told Hudson because Molly was afraid to have the paternity test. She didn’t have it till this Christmas.”
“I always knew.” Cheryl frowned at her friend.
“He does look just like Hud.” Brenda nodded. “Molly is a dear girl, but she was a bit wild when she was younger. I think Hudson wanted to rescue her, to be honest.” Brenda stared out the kitchen window. The passionate grief of the day before had been replaced by something resembling shock.
“He does love to adopt the sad cases.” Cheryl did not avoid eye contact. “He just doesn’t know what to do with them once they’ve been saved.”
“I’m too late to rescue Molly.” It wasn’t exactly what Taylor had been planning on saying, but it’s what she felt. “But I want to help.”
Cheryl’s perfectly made-up mouth sneered at Taylor. “As though the police can’t handle this.”
“Sheriff,” Taylor said quietly.
“Or do you want to help with Hudson’s son? Because last I heard you weren’t in his life.” Cheryl tipped her chin up.
“Who was your dad on a date with two nights ago?” Taylor asked, also quietly.
Cheryl snorted. “Excuse me?”
“I was with John Hancock at Spirit Mountain for the concert, and Boggy was there with a very young woman. Do you know who it was?”
Cheryl’s lip curled. Her jaw began to quiver.
“Molly and Coco were good friends. And Coco was introducing older men to younger women. Could Boggy have been one of those older men?” Taylor kept pressing.
“My father did not go on a date with his grandson’s ex-girlfriend.”
“No, Molly was already gone when I saw Boggy.”
“If you have questions for your cousin, I suggest you ask her.” Cheryl walked to the door. “We have a funeral to plan.”
Taylor let herself be escorted out, disappointed yet again. She’d have to call Brenda to make sure she’d have her alone next time.
But Cheryl was right about one thing. She needed to talk to Coco, though she had a feeling the conversation would go just about as well as this one had.
Coco hadn’t returned any of Taylor’s calls, but then, Taylor hadn’t worked very hard to get in touch. She had a feeling she wouldn’t get anywhere with the girl. If Coco was running an online prostitution ring by any other name, she was hardly going to admit it to her nosy cousin. But she rallied. She couldn’t put off the conversation no matter how pointless it might turn out to be and went straight from Brenda’s house to the farm.
She pushed open the door with her hip, leaning into it, like you would if you were headed into a fire to rescue someone, and followed the sound of voices into the kitchen.
“Darling.” Grandma Quinny didn’t sound pleased, though it was a term of affection. She sat at the round, cherry wood table in the breakfast nook with Graham and Coco. The strawberry tea pot she used for casual company sat between them as did an assortment of mugs. No fresh baked scones were present, but she had cracked open a tin of Danish butter cookies.
Graham leaned back in his chair, a pleasant smile on his face. The slightly frayed cuffs of his plaid button down stuck out from under the sleeves of a corduroy jacket Grandpa Ernie would not have approved of no matter how much Taylor liked the leather elbow patches.
Grandma Quinny looked fierce. She wrapped her strong hands around a large strawberry shaped mug and scowled at the journalist.
Coco sparkled from head to toe. Her ivory skin glimmered with health, youth, and likely special lotion. Her modestly cut blouse was threaded with something silvery. And her eyes, large, round, and sad, were full of tears about to fall.
“Join us.” Grandma Quinny held a mug out for Taylor. “It’s just Lipton but have some tea. Coco was telling us about how she had helped her friend Molly meet a nice man.”
“Thanks.” Taylor pulled up a chair and gave her attention to Coco. She was prickling with envy. She knew Graham had an editor to report to, but she’d thought of him as someone who’d help her. Not someone who’d scoop her.
“She really loved him.” Coco looked up and away, then dabbed under her eyes with a white paper napkin. “I don’t mean to say she was in love with him. But she cared about him. He was kind to her and made her laugh.
“How did they meet?” Taylor asked. “Sorry if you’ve already said this once.”
Coco nodded. “Online. I run a dating service for locals. I’m sure you’ve heard about it by now. Everyone seems to be talking.” Her pale cheeks warmed a light pink, and she turned the corners of her mouth down. “It started with a few friends of mine but grew when others heard about how good I was at helping people connect. I make the men fill out a survey and pay a fee. The girls have been mostly people I know, so it was easy. I’ve been letting other people join now and it’s getting to be more work, so I’ve automated some of it. A survey for the girls, since I don’t know them all. A small fee from them to keep the website running. That kind of thing.”
Taylor wondered how those small online fees had added up to the envelope of cash in Coco’s bedside table but left that issue for the moment. “You have a business license, right? I’d hate to see you have to pay fines or something now that this is being talked about.”
Coco bit her lip and one tear fell slowly down her cheek. “I never thought of it as a business so…I guess I’m going to get in a little trouble.”
Graham nodded. “Don’t forget you’re talking to a reporter, kiddo.”
She looked down and fluttered her eyelashes. “I’ll Google. The very next thing. I’ll see what I can figure out.”
Taylor hadn’t spent a lot of time with this shoestring cousin, but it had been enough to know this saccharine voice wasn’t her normal tone. �
��Has anyone talked to the man she’d been seeing? He must be crushed.”
“The police will want to, but I hate to tell them about him.” She took a deep breath then looked Taylor square in the face. Her eyes, still wide, held a look of fear. “He’s really a nice guy. I wouldn’t want him to get into any trouble.”
“Would it be easier if I talked to him?” Taylor asked.
Coco’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Graham lifted one eyebrow. He looked amused which didn’t sit well with Taylor.
“To, um, condolences. I mean. From you and your friends. If you haven’t yet.” Taylor stumbled over her words.
Coco let another tear spill. “No. He’ll contact me if he needs to. I think the less we bother him now the better. He’s had enough trouble recently, what with his wife dying.”
Graham shifted in his seat. “That’s rough.”
“Yeah.” Coco nodded.
“He’s a widower? How old is he?” Taylor pictured another octogenarian like Boggy. She didn’t think there could be enough money in the world for that.
Coco shrugged. “Most of the men who sign up for a local service like mine are looking for a second chance at love, so they are a little older.”
“Coco, I had a long talk with your mother.” Grandma Quinny’s voice had that firm and in control sound she’d developed in her years as a business lecturer at the Comfort College of Art and Craft. “We all know these men pay the girls you send to them.”
At first Coco stiffened, but she readjusted quickly with a soft little sigh. “I’m sure that’s what it looks like to you. But the girls I work with are all students or entrepreneurs. They have dreams they’re trying to achieve. And the men who connect with them want to offer them support and encouragement. Sometimes this includes money.” The pink deepened in Coco’s cheeks as she looked around the well-equipped farmhouse kitchen. “After all, don’t men support the women they love? Isn’t that traditional?”
Taylor waited for the sparks to fly.
“Traditionally, dear,” Grandma Quinny’s tone had a syrupy tone that only came out for sarcasm, “a man supports his wife.” She stood, calm, cool, and collected. Her lightweight-knit shawl-collared sweater moved as though a breeze had gone through the room, but it was only her face that was cold. “You know exactly what you are doing and why your parents sent you here.” She turned to Graham. “If you will excuse me.”
Graham got to his feet and pushed his chair in. “Thanks for your hospitality. I should be heading out. Taylor, good to see you.”
“Sure.” Taylor frowned as he left. She’d call him when she was done talking to Coco. Surely, he wouldn’t leave her in the dark.
“I need to lie down.” Coco pushed her mug away. “This has been a hard day. Some people don’t seem to realize I lost my bff.” She used the corner of her folded napkin to tap just under her eyes again and left.
Taylor stared at the tea things. Years of training made her itch to clean the table in this kitchen, but if she hustled, she could nab Graham before he drove away.
She almost made it, and though she waved frantically, he turned onto Bible Creek Road and headed into town anyway.
There were still quite a few hours before she was expected at Sacred Grounds, so she headed up to the room she’d been staying in to do a little online research. She’d like to dig around for Coco’s website while the girl rested, and hopefully ambush her next time she tried to sneak out.
Chapter Five
Though it was almost proper spring and the days were getting longer, it was dark and chilly when Taylor made it to Sacred Grounds. Coco had remained holed up in her room all afternoon. Taylor had knocked once, and just let herself in another time, but either Coco was a remarkably sound sleeper or a talented actress. Taylor couldn’t wake her before it was time to leave. She did check the side table drawers again, but there were no little bottles of sleeping pills hiding in them. She was tempted to kiss the sleeping girl’s forehead, as she just looked like a child, lying there under the strawberry blankets, but she refrained. This was no innocent child.
The Methodist church was an old, traditional church building. A plant from one of the first churches ever in Oregon, as Taylor recalled from her high school history class. The steeple and bell part of the building looked just like a picture post card. But the little offshoot that had once held Sunday School had been converted first to a sort of social space…fellowship hall? Taylor wasn’t sure. But then, a few years back, Pastor Wendy had convinced the congregation it should be a coffee shop, and Sacred Grounds was born. The addition to the church had been built sometime in the sixties, and the coffee shop leaned into the midcentury modern aesthetic with laminate dinette sets, Pyrex-patterned sugar and creamers, and the original industrial avocado wall paint. It was a nonprofit, and the funds went to help fight homelessness, an ever-present problem in the Pacific Northwest, what with the shocking wage disparity brought on by companies like Microsoft, Nike, and Amazon. Taylor always meant to get coffee there, just to support the cause, but it was the opposite direction from her store, so she never did do it.
Sacred Grounds was staffed by volunteers, including Asha’s mother. Taylor would have recognized the woman anywhere. She was a stunning beauty, probably in her forties. The striking silver streak in her sandy brown hair was the only hint she was older than her daughter. Her high cheekbones, large eyes, and that subtle air of sophistication matched exactly. Taylor didn’t have a chance to greet the woman who was busy cleaning the complicated, brass, cappuccino making, coffee machine, but she overheard her speaking with another woman in a matching coffee shop apron, and her accent was exactly as Taylor imagined.
Asha sat in the back, far from where the coffee shop met the foyer of the church. “You wanted to talk about Larry, I think. I don’t know how much Hudson has told you.”
“Hold on.” Taylor joined her at the table. “Hudson and I broke up ages ago. This isn’t about the little guy.”
Asha frowned in confusion. “Sorry. I just, um, Molly said Hudson stayed at your place when he was back in town. I just thought you’d made up.”
Taylor shook her head. “We’re still friends, that’s all. And his mom is living on his land right now.”
“Do you know if he’s going to try and get custody from Kelly?”
“I don’t even know who Kelly is.” Taylor gave a light shrug and smiled.
The women cleaning behind the counter had grown louder. They seemed to be arguing but Taylor hadn’t caught what it was over.
“Kelly Kay. Molly’s little sister. She’s been taking care of Larry. They lived together till Molly came home. She’s afraid of Hudson. I mean, she’s afraid he’s going to take the little guy, you know? Because he feels like he’s her kid. Not Hudson. Larry.” Asha looked frustrated. “Sorry. I sometimes get my words scrambled. I mean Kelly is afraid Hudson’s going to try and get custody. I guess he’s been calling her all day or something. She called me. Molly has been my best friend since high school, but that doesn’t mean I know anything about anything.”
“You wouldn’t know who she’s been dating, would you?”
“Jack Green. No, Jack um…Green. No, that’s what I just said. But it wasn’t that. Maybe Greening? Or Groaning?”
“Groening? Like the guy who created the Simpsons?” Taylor wondered if Asha was always this confused or if she was just distracted by the arguing women.
“Yes, yes. It looks like groaning but sounds like greening. I think that was it. Or something really like that. I never met him, but she showed me pictures.”
“I hear they met online.”
“Mm hm. I wanted to do it, too, because she was really happy, but my mom wouldn’t let me.”
“Why not?” Taylor tried to sound casual. It seemed like she was always trying to sound casual during these interviews and wondered what might happen if she let loose and people could see how excited she really was.
Asha tilted her head toward her mom. “I told her it w
as a matchmaking site, but she didn’t trust it. She’s too old world for that. She even thinks Dad is too American. Wants me to marry a boy straight from Gdansk. Would probably be happiest if we all moved back.”
“Where’s Gdansk?”
Asha closed her eyes like the question made her tired. “Poland. Mom’s from Gdansk. It’s beautiful, I grant her that.”
“But it’s not home?” Taylor asked.
Asha looked around the little coffee shop, in the little church, in their little town. “It’s a pretty great city, honestly. But I’d rather move to San Francisco.”
“What about Molly? Where did she want to live?”
“She didn’t want to stay here, I know that. But she needed the job, and her aunt Brenda was going to let her live rent free.”
“But she didn’t live with her, did she?”
“Not after she met Jack.”
“She moved in with him?” Taylor swallowed. That seemed fast, and dangerous.
“No, he paid her rent. He took her on vacation too.”
“Did he know about Larry?”
“She hadn’t told him, no. It was kind of weird, because he was old. Like really old. I think she said he was fifty, over forty at least. Something like that. Maybe thirty-nine. But she really seemed to like him, and I didn’t get it.
Taylor had a feeling Graham was also “maybe 39” but she could remember being in her early twenties, like Asha. It would seem old. “I guess Coco does a good job matching people up.”
“Better than my mom does. Do you know how many guys around here actually still speak Polish?”
Taylor shook her head.
“Exactly. And that’s who Mom thinks I have to pick from for my future husband. But only if he’s from Pomerania.”
Taylor lifted an eyebrow.
Asha shook her head. “It’s like, um, like a county, I guess. A voivodeship. Gdansk is there. Bonus points if they also speak Kashubian.” She rolled her eyes.
“Do you speak Polish and Kashubian?”
“No. I barely speak English.” She made a cute little grimace. “I understand Kashubian when my babusia is talking, and I speak Polish, but not good enough to immigrate.”