by K. J. Emrick
“Well, to start with, Clarissa and Rick are going to move into the upstairs apartment while we move out.”
“Rick?” he asked. “Who’s Rick?”
“See, that’s the same thing that I asked. Apparently Clarissa’s fiancé likes to call himself Rick now. It’s a small change.” Small, perhaps, but part of a much bigger issue. She would get to that in a moment. “They had to move out of the place where they were staying, so now they’re moving in here.”
He smiled at that, as if she’d just handed him a big present. “Okay, well that’s great actually. I know you were kind of on the fence about moving in with me but now you won’t have to worry about who will take care of the apartment upstairs. Plus, if Clarissa and… uh, Rick… if they come to work with you here, you’ll be able to sleep in some mornings. I mean, not every morning, sure, because you love being here to start things off at the crack of dawn, but this will be really good for you. For both of us.”
His excitement was infectious, and he just looked so eager and cute, that now Cookie wondered why she hadn’t just jumped at the offer to move to his place before. Moving in with her new husband in a new place might be a little scary, but it was also going to be wonderful. And yes, now that Clarissa and Rick would be taking over the apartment upstairs, she would have less to worry about.
Or she would have, if not for the trouble dogging at her granddaughter’s heels.
With a heavy sigh she sat down on the stool across from him, letting her own good mood evaporate for what she had to tell him next. “There’s more, I’m afraid.”
“Hmm. Why do I sense this part isn’t good news?”
“Well, I’d like to think of it as an opportunity,” she hedged. “Rick and Clarissa aren’t just moving back here because they want to work at the bakery. They had to move. They lost their apartment.”
“Really? What happened? Are they going to be okay?”
She loved him for asking that. No judgment, no criticism, just an honest concern that his knew granddaughter and her fiancé might be in trouble. “They should be fine as long as we can help them.”
“Of course,” he said immediately. “They can stay here as long as they want. Are you going to be charging them rent?”
“Oh, heavens no.” The idea hadn’t even occurred to Cookie. “Maybe in the future, if they get their finances straightened out, we can discuss it then, but until that happens—”
“No, no, I didn’t mean it that way. Of course you don’t have to charge them anything. They’re family. Can we afford to pay them a salary?”
“It won’t be much, but yes, I can afford to pay them. Add in the free living space, and it should be enough to set them right in a few months. If they can’t get everything else squared away, that is.”
“Everything else?” he parroted. “There’s more?”
Cookie had wanted to keep most of this private, until Clarissa was ready to tell more people herself. There was already going to be an uncomfortable phone call today to Clarissa’s mother. No way was she letting Clarissa stay here without letting her mother know about it. Hopefully, Clarissa would be up to making that call herself but if not, Cookie was going to have to do it for her. As a mother herself, she certainly wouldn’t want to be kept in the dark about something like this happening to her child.
Again, she hesitated. Clarissa didn’t want anyone else to know the full story yet. She hadn’t exactly promised not to tell, but it was understood that Clarissa was telling her the truth in confidence. Except, she and Jerry were a team. Anything that affected her life affected his. He would need to know all the facts, sooner rather than later.
She took a breath, and tried to order her thoughts, ready to tell him the rest of a sad, sad story.
Behind her, Cream barked a good morning from the stairs.
“Hey, Grandma.” Clarissa was with the little dog. “What are you guys talking about?”
She heard the underlying tone in Clarissa’s voice, the warning that she didn’t want her grandmother to say anything else about this, just like she’d said last night. Cookie clacked her teeth together around the words that had been about to spill out. They could stay unspoken. At least for now.
“Good morning, you,” Jerry said brightly, completely missing the interchange between the two women. “Your grandmother was just telling me that you’re going to be staying here and working in the bakery. I think that’s wonderful. I’m so sorry it had to come under such bad circumstances.”
Clarissa blinked at him, and then her eyes shifted to Cookie. “What did she tell you about our circumstances?”
“That you lost your apartment.” Jerry shrugged. “That must really suck. Things happen to the best of us, but I doubt that helps you feel any better. I’m guessing Rick must have lost that job he had at the restaurant, if you couldn’t keep up with the rent?”
“Er, yeah. He did.” Her shoulders seemed to relax to hear that was all that Jerry had heard, and she even sat down on the steps to pet Cream. “I’m just glad Grandma Cookie and you were here to help me. So, um, thanks.”
Jerry patted his hands on the table as he stood up. “You’re very welcome. Listen, I have to go to work now. You do a good job for your grandmother today, okay? We’ll get everything settled with you and Rick in the apartment when I get home. Is he going to be joining us today?”
Clarissa cleared her throat. “Maybe. I’m not sure. It might be in a day or two. He’s got some, um, things to take care about back home.”
The lie rolled so easily off her tongue that Cookie was sure she’d gotten in the habit of making up stories for Rick. It was such a shame to see her granddaughter acting like this. This just wasn’t like her. She was a strong and confident young woman who knew what she wanted. At least, she had been the last time Cookie had seen her. This Clarissa was a different person entirely from the one she knew and loved. Scared, keeping secrets, telling lies. Worried that anyone around her might learn the truth of everything. All because of Rick and the addiction that was ruining his life.
“Well, I’m off,” Jerry said, gulping the rest of his coffee and picking up his briefcase. He came around to give Cookie a kiss on her cheek. Then he leaned over to give Clarissa an awkward hug. He was still getting used to the whole being a grandfather thing. “I’m glad you’re here. This will be great.”
Then he left, and Cookie waited to hear the front door of the bakery close behind him. She knew Clarissa was waiting for the same. Sure enough, as soon as the shopkeeper’s bell stopped ringing, her granddaughter jumped up off the steps.
“I asked you not to tell him!” she snapped. “Grandma this is personal. It’s embarrassing, and it’s just between me and Rick. It’s our problem. Nobody else’s.”
She spooked Cream. He jumped up with her, yipping at every corner of the kitchen, trying to find whatever had gotten Clarissa so upset. There was nothing for the dog to see, of course. The troubles she had were of the invisible sort. With nothing for him to bite or scare away, he settled down on the steps again.
As calmly as she could, Cookie came over and folded her arms around Clarissa. She wanted to shout, she wanted to scold her until reason settled in, but she knew that wouldn’t help. Nothing would help now, except love and understanding. Her granddaughter stood there in her arms, stiff as a board, but didn’t push her away.
“They were your problems until you brought them to me,” Cookie explained. “Now, they’re our problems. Yours and mine and Jerry’s, too. I’m going to help you. I’m going to help Rick, too, if he lets me. But you can’t solve anything, dear, if you keep everything hidden away. The only way to cast out the shadows in your life is to shine a light on them.”
Clarissa snorted. “You usually give me crazy advice wrapped in cooking metaphors. You must really be upset.”
“I am. I’m upset for you. I’m worried about you.”
She pushed out of Cookie’s arms finally to throw her hands in the air. Cream got up and followed her around the kitchen at
her feet, trotting fast to keep up. “I’m fine. Rick is fine. We just need some help getting back on our feet and after that we can get on with our lives.”
Cream whuffled at that, obviously not convinced.
“Rick just needs some time to get his head on straight,” Clarissa insisted.
Cream grumbled to himself as he made another circle around the kitchen with her.
“I’m serious. It’s just something we have to work on together.”
This time, when they came around, Cream stopped at the foot of the stairs and sneezed. He watched Clarissa pacing her circles for a moment before turning away and scraping his back feet on the floor. Then he padded his way up the stairs again. Obviously, he’d heard enough.
Cookie had, too, but she didn’t have the luxury of walking away. She supposed, if it was someone else with the problem, someone else’s granddaughter, then walking away from the whole issue would be easy. When it was your family stuck in the porridge, so to speak, all you could do was slog through with them to the other side.
“Clarissa, dear,” she said kindly. “Let’s put all that aside for a moment. Why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed? You’re still in your pajamas and our customers will start arriving any minute. After the morning rush is over, I’ll need you to watch the bakery for me while I go out for an hour or so around one o’clock. That will give us enough time to put the lunch crowd behind us too. Things are always quietest here in the early afternoon.”
That brought her granddaughter’s constant pacing to a halt, and she took a moment to calm herself down before nodding. “Sure. That sounds… that sounds good. I remember everything you taught me from before. Things were so much simpler back then, weren’t they? Back when I was just a teenager coming to stay with you for a little while to give me and Mom some space? Back when me and Rick first met.”
“Well, I don’t know about simpler,” Cookie told her.
She remembered how Clarissa had been, back then. A wild child, looking for someone to point her in the right direction. Cookie had gladly stepped into that role until she wasn’t needed anymore. It looked as though her granddaughter might have some growing up to do, still. “At any rate, working here today will give you something to take your mind off your troubles. Later tonight, you and I and Jerry can sit down and talk about everything.”
“Grandma…”
“No, I won’t hear of it. This involves Jerry, too, since he’s now your step-grandfather. He’s my husband, and I won’t have him kept in the dark over something this serious. So long as Rick hasn’t committed any crimes in our town then he’s got nothing to worry about. We only want what’s best for the both of you, but this is how it has to be. If that’s the thing you want to be a deal breaker then I’m afraid I’ll have to withdraw my offer to help.” It hurt her to say the words, but they needed to be said. “Tonight we’ll call your mother, too. No, she needs to hear it from you. I love you and I will always be here for you, but I won’t be dictated to in my own home. You can’t come to me for help, and then tell me how I’m going to give it to you.”
She folded her arms and smiled in a way that she hoped would let Clarissa know that she only had her best interests at heart.
In the end her granddaughter just shrugged and walked past Cookie to the stairs, already unbuttoning her pajama top. “I’ll be down in a minute,” she said, and only that.
Well, that was certainly better than having her be all defensive. Cookie sighed and started cleaning up around the kitchen. There were still some things to bring out to the display cases, and a few things she wanted to do before the doors opened officially, but she couldn’t help worrying while she worked. What was she going to do for Clarissa? She couldn’t help her if she refused to accept it.
Perhaps letting them stay here, and work here, would give Rick some incentive to seek treatment for his problems.
She could only hope that would be the case. For Rick, and for Clarissa as well.
Even as she was still full to the brim with those thoughts, part of her mind turned to the mystery that her husband was dealing with back at the police station. What old case could that be all about? Widow’s Rest had its share of bad history, to be sure, up to and including the fire that had destroyed most of the town back in 1912, and the murders that were the cause of that fatal blaze. There were other things as well, just as dark. Cookie hadn’t lived here her entire life, but she knew a lot of the history from gossip and rumors and such.
There had been a cattle stampede in the 1940s that had claimed a child’s life. So sad. Then there was the suicide cult from the 1960s. They hadn’t really been living in Widow’s Rest when they went to meet their maker—which they claimed was a prophetic milk snake—but they had been close enough that the news stories all associated them with the town. Like David Koresh and Waco, Texas. Koresh and his group hadn’t actually been based in Waco, it was just the biggest nearby town that reporters could pronounce.
Of course, this cold case investigation didn’t have to involve a murder. There were other things that had happened here that didn’t involve people dying. There was a string of garbage can mischief fires in people’s yards back in the 90s, she remembered. They had never caught that prankster, but she somehow doubted Jerry was dealing with that case all these years later. It would have to be something much more serious than that. Like when the bank in town had been robbed and the thief got away in an airplane, fueled and waiting for him out in a farmer’s field…
She stopped, halfway across the kitchen floor with a tray of muffins in her hands.
“Oh my,” she said.
Could that mystery be what Jonathan Graham was talking about from his jail cell? Two million dollars stolen, a thief disappearing in the fiery crash of a plane wreck, and no leads to this day?
Oh my, indeed.
Chapter 3
The Widows Rest Police Department was a single-story building of brick and mortar, with fluorescent lighting in the lobby and cheap stick-on floor tiles that crackled with each of Cookie’s footsteps as she walked while carrying the load of food in her arms. In the cut-top cardboard box were six lunches in paper bags. Ham and swiss sandwiches, along with cut stalks of celery and blueberry muffins. She’d even included bottles of water from the cooler at the bakery. It wasn’t much, but she hadn’t planned on making this trip until this morning. Next time, hopefully, whatever mystery arose in town would give her a day to plan the menu.
When she got up to the service window, the sliding plastic section was closed and locked. No one was in sight on the other side. She had to settle the box on the lip of the window’s counter, balancing her purse on her shoulder, so she could tap her finger against the metal bell and announce her presence. She was willing to bet in more modern departments there would be a buzzer or a camera of some kind to tell the officers someone was here needing their attention. In Widow’s Rest, they weren’t quite that advanced.
While she waited for someone to come out to the front, she cast her eyes over the lobby’s corkboard pinned with community service posters, including several that warned against the evils of drugs. Some offered suggestions on where to get treatment. Was Rick ready for that, she wondered? If she brought him home a flyer, would he thank her, or cast it aside and say he didn't need anything but a steady job?
She sighed. Poor Clarissa. What must she have gone through for all these months, pretending everything was all right, and trying to manage all on her own? She shook her head, wishing her granddaughter had come to her sooner.
When she turned back to the window, she found Officer Jason Stiller standing there watching. “Oh, my. How long have you been there?”
“Jerry’s busy,” he told her. Of course he would recognize her. All the officers did. Most of them were more polite about it, however. “Come back later, okay?”
She was embarrassed at first, but she quickly hid it with a smile as she lifted the box of food. “I’ve brought everyone some lunch. Jerry did tell you I was coming, d
idn’t he?”
Jason was a heavyset man. His uniform shirts were always straining against its buttons and Jerry had once confided in Cookie that they had to order his belts in special to fit around his waist. Not that she was one to talk about being overweight. She had a nice layer of padding around her middle herself. It was just unusual to see a police officer who let himself go that much. All the officers Cookie had ever seen made sure to keep themselves in good shape. Not Jason Stiller.
His hygiene left a little to be desired as well.
He eyed the bagged lunches through the window. “Seems like he might have said something about you coming,” he said, licking his lips. “Even if he hadn’t, I’m not one to turn down free food. Come on in.”
Cookie waited for him to push the button that unlocked the door at the end of the lobby marked “Employees Only.” She went through, pushing it open with her back, and it led her into the main part of the station where the officers worked. Two of the three desks here stood empty. At the third one, Officer Loretta Hill sat madly typing away at the computer keyboard while she talked into a phone receiver in the crook of her shoulder. She was easily doing twice the work that Jason was, and she did not look happy about it.
“I’ll take those,” Jason said, swooping in to grab the box of food out of Cookie’s hands. “I’m just gonna take them down to the breakroom. Er, for safe keeping.”
At her desk, Loretta cupped a hand around the receiver and glared his way. “One of those is for our prisoner, Jason.”
“Oh, sure. He’ll get it. Most of it, anyways. I have to check it over to make sure there’s no contraband or anything in it first.” He winked at Cookie as he said it. “No offense.”
She gave him a dubious look as he set off down the hallway that led away to the inner offices and further down to the holding cells. He turned into the breakroom on his left long before he would have gotten to the prisoner holding area. Cookie found herself staring that way, knowing that Jonathan Graham was down there, holding on to secrets from the past that he wanted to exchange for his freedom. Would Jerry let him make that trade? If he was sitting on information about that bank robbery, as Cookie suspected, then the information might just be worth the cost.