The House Guests Page 16

  Maybe it was a Christmas miracle.

  Cassie took a cookie, too, and not her first. “I wanted her to see a counselor after Mark died, but try telling a psychiatrist’s daughter she needs therapy. She has a lot she needs to talk about. And she certainly isn’t talking to me.”

  “Would you send Savannah to California if you could?”

  Sometimes Cassie wondered, too. “Savannah’s never been with her mother on Christmas. Gen gets her for part of the summer. Savannah flies to California over Easter or spring break. But that’s it.”

  Amber didn’t reply, and Cassie knew what she was thinking. “Yeah, I know. Savannah’s father is dead, but Savannah’s still living with me, a woman who has no legal claim to her. If it came to some kind of ridiculous custody battle, I’d lose. Mostly because Savannah would be given her choice. In the meantime it’s not an issue because Gen is out of the country.”

  “So Savannah doesn’t want to celebrate Christmas,” Amber said. “What shall we do about that?”

  Cassie pulled herself out of her own problems and focused on Amber. “What do you and Will usually do for the holidays?” She watched Amber sort through her answers. Cassie was used to how much Amber hid about her past.

  She finally turned up her hands like she was making an admission of guilt. “I usually wait until Christmas Eve, hit the dingiest lot and find the worst tree. Then I bargain the salesperson down to whatever I have left in my pocket.”

  All the elaborate, expensive Christmases the Westmores had celebrated in Manhattan flashed through Cassie’s mind. During her marriage she had lived in a dreamworld. “Then what?”

  “We made decorations ahead of time. We moved too often to take things with us, so every Christmas we tried something new. One year we covered the lids of tin cans with felt and pasted magazine photos on them. Another we turned Popsicle sticks and straws into gold and silver stars. That was probably our prettiest tree.” She looked up. “Will and I used to spend the whole year leading up to Christmas coming up with ideas. It became a game to see how little money we could spend.”

  Cassie thought of all the expensive craft supplies and kits that she and Savannah had purchased. “Savannah and I made decorations every year, too. Only I can’t find them.”

  “Are you going to have a tree?”

  Cassie wanted Amber to be a part of the decision. “Are we going to have a tree? Do you want one? Does Will?”

  “Will makes a point of not asking for things.”

  “Then guess for him.” When she saw the answer in Amber’s eyes, she nodded. “What’s on your calendar today?”

  “Since the Kouzina’s closed tonight, I was going to take care of odds and ends. I’ve about run out of fabric for my zipper pouches, so I want to go to the thrift store to see if I can find more.”

  Cassie finished her coffee and stood. “I need to find curtains for my bedroom. Would you like company? Maybe we can find a Christmas tree to bring home.”

  Amber looked both surprised and pleased. “The thrift store may have decorations and lights. They may even have trees.”

  “This will be the first time I’ve actually had enough room to store a Christmas tree. Wouldn’t that be perfect?”

  Amber rose, too. “Don’t expect perfect if the tree comes from Things From the Springs. It’s somebody’s reject.”

  “But good enough. That’s what we’re shooting for.” Cassie felt a small sliver of Christmas spirit chipping its way through the ice around her heart. Maybe that’s all she’d get, but that, too, was good enough for now.

  * * *

  They didn’t come home with curtains but they did come home with a six-foot artificial blue spruce from Things From the Springs, marked down because the box was missing and two branches were damaged. Since it was easy to set the tree against a wall, Cassie had grabbed it. They also took a chance on strings of lights, which she tested in an outlet by the door. The lights had twinkled, and the store manager, wearing a Christmas sweater complete with Rudolph’s blinking nose, had applauded.

  At the next store Amber bought yards of white satin ribbon on clearance to make bows with long streamers, and at another, Cassie found red satin balls the size of grapefruit, along with glass icicles.

  “Let’s wait until Will gets back from school to get the tree out of the car,” Amber said, once they were inside with all their packages. “We might damage it even more if we don’t have help.”

  Cassie left to change. Shopping with Amber had been more fun than she’d anticipated, and Things From the Springs had been a revelation. While she had found beautiful curtains, they had been the wrong size. However now that she knew about the little store, she could check back frequently until the right sizes appeared.

  She’d had to restrain herself from reorganizing the whole place, aisle by aisle, which badly needed it. She had been reminded of the hospital gift shop and the fun of changing it into an attractive, financially stable enterprise. Imagining how to remodel Things From the Springs had been the most fun she’d had in months.

  There had been one odd moment, though. A man came into the store and stood at the front, arms folded, as if he were searching the aisles. Amber had moved to the side, just far enough, Cassie thought, that she wouldn’t be seen behind a rack.

  Cassie had lowered her voice. “Problem?”

  Amber didn’t answer.

  “Is the man who just came in somebody you know?”

  Amber looked at her, then back toward the front. The man was now laughing with the manager. He was tall and broad shouldered, like someone who might be formidable in a fight. His head shone under the fluorescent lights, and then, when he leaned against the front counter, Cassie saw he was wearing a priest’s collar.

  Amber relaxed. “No, I don’t know him.”

  “But he looks like somebody?”

  “Just a guy I went out with on a date and would rather avoid. The most boring date of my life.”

  Cassie didn’t quite believe Amber was telling the truth. Her friend’s reaction pointed out something she had noticed more and more. Amber was good company. She knew how to listen, and she always had something good to add, but whenever she was out in public, she was constantly scanning the landscape, looking closely at people coming toward them. In comparison Cassie, who had considerable street smarts, was as trusting as a lamb. She wondered if she needed to be more observant or if Amber needed to relax.

  Her cell phone rang as she zipped a pair of well-worn jeans. She dropped to the bed without snapping them and checked the number. The area code was Manhattan.

  “Cassie?” The woman’s voice at the other end wasn’t familiar. “This is Ivy Todsen. I don’t know if you remember me...”

  Cassie sat up straighter, placing her immediately as the hospital nurse Mark had often mentioned. Ivy was tall with a boyish figure and hair so heavily highlighted it was mostly blond. She sported a year-round tan, usually only seen south of the Mason-Dixon Line or in a tanning salon.

  “You worked on the behavioral health unit at Riverbend,” Cassie said. “Mark sang your praises.”

  “I am so sorry for your loss, and for ours, as well. He was the best psychiatrist on the unit. I always thought the patients under his care did better than others.” She added the next part as if she felt obligated to. “Of course the whole Church Street practice is excellent.”

  Cassie wished she could ask if Ivy really meant that. Sometimes lies were about plugging conversational holes or saving face.

  She scanned through her memory for facts she knew about this woman. Mark sought out Ivy when he needed a favor on the unit and consulted her about patients. On a personal level Cassie knew little, except that Ivy had taken time off while she was going through a nasty divorce. Mark had been forced to forge new working relationships in the unit because Ivy was gone.

  She propped pillows behind her back and
settled into the conversation. “Did you know I’m living in Florida now?”

  “I’d heard. I found your number because all the staff list their emergency contacts, and you were Mark’s. I was reorganizing the list, and when I saw his name, I realized we’d never, well...”

  They’d never deleted him. Cassie wondered how long it took before a person was erased completely, as if they’d never lived at all. “I’m glad you found me,” she said, to ease the strain.

  “I wasn’t able to attend Mark’s memorial service. I was on duty that day, and I decided that taking care of his patients was the best way to honor him. Of course the staff on our unit sent a card and flowers, but not speaking to you bothered me. I know this must be such a hard time. Tell me how you’re doing.”

  Cassie thought how much that question would have meant from Valerie. “It is hard. You probably deal with grieving patients all the time.”

  “And families. It helps to talk.”

  They chatted easily, moving past the subject of Mark and into a comparison of life in New York and Florida. Ivy asked about Savannah, and Cassie found herself telling the other woman how hard the adjustment had been for her daughter.

  By the time they were ready to hang up, she was happy she’d been able to talk to someone she’d known in Manhattan. She felt as if a chapter that had been ripped out of her life had been reclaimed.

  “It was so thoughtful of you to call,” she said. “I can see why Mark liked working with you.”

  “Do you mind if I check back now and then? Just to see how you’re doing? I can save hospital gossip for you if you’d like.”

  Cassie’s mind was already whirling with possibilities. “Perfect. I miss knowing what’s going on at Riverbend.” She thanked Ivy and hung up.

  The day spent with Amber and the call from Ivy had pointed out how much she needed friends. Being Ivy’s would have another benefit, too. Once they were more comfortable with each other, Cassie could ask the RN about Mark and his relationship with the others at Church Street Psychiatric. Ivy would have an insider’s view. Cassie was still determined to find out what had really happened, and why he had resigned. Maybe Ivy could be a stepping-stone to the truth.

  Nothing was clearer than the fact that she couldn’t do this alone. She needed all the help she could get.

  17

  AMBER GOT OUT OF her car and leaned in to say goodbye to her son, who was in the driver’s seat. Will was wearing a crisp white dress shirt and black slacks and looked, in her unbiased opinion, amazing.

  “Don’t forget. I’ll find my way home when I’m done here, or I’ll wait for you at the Kouzina if I can’t,” she said. “But you’ll call if you have any problems?”

  “I’m not going to have problems.” Will’s smile was so dear it almost sucked the air out of her lungs. “And I can see why Yiayia wanted me to start training on your day off.”

  “Well, I’m a Mother Hen, and you’re my only hatched egg, kid.” She straightened and thumped the top of their car and watched him pull away from the curb. She was still surprised that Will was driving, and driving well, to boot. Their life together had flown by so quickly, and as tough as it had been, she wished she could do it again.

  Of course, even more she wished she could have done it differently the first time.

  “Billy, you would be so proud,” she whispered as she watched the car disappear down the road. Unexpectedly tears filled her eyes. She wasn’t sure they were prompted by pride or sorrow, but her feelings didn’t matter, hadn’t mattered for years. Survival had demanded that she push everything aside except the rules she’d made for herself. Stay under the radar. Move often and without fanfare. Keep to the simplest facts about who she and Will were and where they’d come from.

  Inside the library she saw several empty computers and chose one, keying in the number from her library card when prompted. Once her number was accepted, she knew she only had ninety minutes on the internet, but despite that, she had trouble settling in. Will’s delight at having a new job, where he would make better wages and interact with people instead of unpacking cartons and stocking shelves, was catching. At the oddest times she found herself smiling. Their life since they had moved in with Cassie had improved immeasurably.

  Since Cassie refused to accept even pocket change, Amber was rapidly saving money. She’d paid off outstanding bills and begun to replenish her bank account so she could afford rent again someday. Her new job as a server at Yiayia’s Kouzina was more fun than she’d expected. Yiayia and Roxanne too often went head-to-head, but the rest of the staff got along surprisingly well. Since Amber liked both the Costas women, she stayed away from them during arguments and managed the restaurant until they were finished knocking heads.

  None of the other servers had aspirations toward management. If Amber had been in charge, she would have talked to each about their commitment to their job. But she wasn’t in charge. Truthfully no one was. Roxanne and Yiayia were in constant negotiations. Roxanne was trying to manage the back of house and help Buck cook, but her hands were often tied. Yiayia tried to manage the front, but she was more interested in socializing with customers—and giving too many discounts.

  As an outsider, Amber had discovered she was able to make suggestions if she couched them as casual conversation. Sometimes Yiayia even took her advice. Roxanne had noticed, and now she fed Amber ideas for things to discuss with her mother. Sometimes it was a definite benefit not to be a real Costas.

  On the way to the library today she had counseled Will to stay out of family squabbles. No one had been more surprised than her when he’d come home on Monday and told her that after the grocery store had refused to raise his hourly wage, he’d applied at the Kouzina and been hired immediately.

  “I didn’t want you putting in a good word for me, or Cassie doing it, either. I wanted to get the job on my own.” His grin had poured sunshine into her world. “So I did.”

  Amber was sure that Will had sold the deal himself. While there was nothing easy about busing tables, he knew that the two afternoons and evenings he was scheduled at the Kouzina would give him extra time for schoolwork. For now he was in training while he also served out the two weeks he owed the grocery store. She hoped today went well for her son, but she suspected that by night’s end, Will would have established himself as someone to be counted on.

  She finally logged on to the internet and geared up to conduct two different searches. She and Will owned a computer, a clunky laptop so old they were lucky it hadn’t self-destructed. But age and unreliability weren’t the only reasons she was at the library. While she doubted her son would check the browser history, she also knew if he accidentally came across something he didn’t understand, he might be curious.

  So when necessary she used the library computers and sometimes even public ones farther away, like Tampa or St. Petersburg. If anyone was trying to trace her, she wanted to make her hometown difficult to pinpoint.

  She was at a crossroads. Settling permanently in Tarpon Springs would be so easy. Gambling that after sixteen years no one was actively searching for her might be easy, too. She had covered her tracks more than a dozen times and taken twists and turns on the journey. She had changed her name and appearance. She had a son—only one person from her past knew about Will, and Betsy Garland would rather die than betray her. She could make a life here and a place for Will to come back to on breaks from college.

  Sadly, easy was never going to be safe, not for her.

  She spent the next thirty minutes checking websites and making a list on a steno pad of towns to investigate in case she had to pull up stakes quickly. If she saved enough money, they might be able to move to a small city in Arizona or Utah that had good restaurants but was far away from major tourist attractions.

  After six cities made the cut, she took a deep breath and switched to her second reason for being there. She had an hour, but she
hoped she wouldn’t need that long, because there was no news to report.

  “Darryl Hawken,” she said under her breath, as she typed in the name. Then, as distasteful as it was to see the name in print, she went slowly down the list of results.

  She conducted this search whenever she could, but never at home. As the sheriff of Croville County, the smallest county in West Virginia, Darryl Hawken was something of a public figure. His name was mentioned often in passing, and she quickly paged through former mentions. Toward the bottom of the page she found a recent newspaper article about impaired driver enforcement. Sheriff Hawken was quoted as saying he was proud of his department’s arrest record.

  Amber wondered how many of Croville County’s impaired drivers had simply driven away after paying the arresting officer a bonus at the roadside. She found it hard to believe that any honest man or woman who worked under Darryl Hawken would be allowed to remain.

  She moved to the second page. She was particularly interested in finding anything about trips Darryl might be taking out of town, or places he’d been seen. But halfway down, after checking several unhelpful websites, she stopped.

  Sheriff Darryl Hawken was considering a run for the House of Delegates.

  She’d probably taken a civics class that concentrated on the state where she’d been born and raised, but now few facts came to mind. She did more digging and discovered how little money a delegate made. Why would Darryl consider running for state office? It didn’t take more than a moment or two to answer her own question. The House of Delegates was a stepping-stone to power. Darryl was a man bent on grabbing more of everything for himself. Who knew what he had in his sights?

  She wondered what his candidacy might mean for her. Would he be more desperate to hide his past? More determined to rid himself of people who knew him for the man he really was? More intent on finding them?

  She wrote the headline and name of the paper for future reference and made notes from the article before she continued to page down.