CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

 

 

In her office, Dorene’s eyes circled the shrunken pool of heirs. “With her role uncovered, Daniella Jericho sang like a well-dressed bird. She blamed McCall. The robbery was his idea. He talked her into using her expansive list of connections to fence the artifacts from the Titanic exhibit. Some people would pay well to own a piece of history. However, McCall didn’t entirely trust Daniella.

“He recently visited Miss Grace and urged her to open her trinket vault, for old times’ sake, and he stashed the goods for safe keeping. He was notorious for having a poor memory, so he embedded the combination on a few auction items and got rid of the copy linking him to the theft. Jericho failed to win the items at the gala because she didn’t have the funds available, so she planned to steal the information she needed to retrieve the goods. Grace had given Jericho the necklace to return to Yvonne after the fundraiser, but when she stole Jane’s wreath and pulled it apart looking for the combination, the pendant got mixed up with the costume jewelry and she tossed it too. She sabotaged the geocache to deter visitors from the history center so she could search without being disturbed.

“She’ll answer for her crimes, but she didn’t kill McCall,” said Dorene. “Wicheck apologized for impersonating Jordan and is on his way home. He said he just wanted to meet the marvelous Grace Loehr. And Paula will spend the rest of her life behind bars Which brings us here.” Carlee squeezed Ana’s hand. I sat on one side of Ida and Dad sat on the other. Yvonne shuffled the papers on the table in front of her and then dangled the jade necklace from her clenched fist, shaking her head, unable to contain her excitement. Rachel stood guard behind Zac and Ricky, who whispered back and forth. Anita drummed her fingertips on the top of a wooden crate, lost, looking out the window.

“If I hadn’t let my ego get in the way and swapped out Phillip’s ill-conceived encaustic, he might not have died.” A tear trickled down her cheek. Zac leaned over, took her hand, and kissed her fingers.

“Paula wanted it all and would have killed him anyway,” said Ida. “I think she’s wanted to test her poisonous plants since high school.”

“Any words before we begin?” said Dorene.

The girls told us how wonderful Miss Grace had been after they were torn from the only home they’d ever known. Dad and I said she’d be missed. Ida told of her tumultuous and extended friendship with Miss Grace. Yvonne expounded on Miss Grace’s support of the history center. Anita echoed that sentiment with her endless gifts to the arts. Ricky smiled and waved, and we waved in return. Zac stood, twisting his hands, and said, “I’ve been deployed for the last thirteen months, and I never met Grace Loehr, but I wish I had.”

Dorene extracted a deed for Carlee and Ana to co-sign with their parents. “And you get to keep the piano.”

She produced four more checks. Yvonne grinned and took the pledge dollars and the money she secured for the history center by cataloging the remaining objects for the Titanic exhibit. Ida had stretched the truth when she told Paula they were worthless.

Anita blinked rapidly at the paper in her hand, staunching her tears.

“Would you please show us the encaustics?” Dorene said gently. Anita hesitated. “Grace wanted the art for the hospital. Ida says yours are the best.”

Zac and Rachel pried the top off the box and dug into the crate for handholds. They lifted the deep blue and vibrant gold swirling compositions. When arranged in a square, raised ridges met and formed a heart.

“These are amazing, truly,” said Dorene. “They would make a nice addition to any collection, but the hospital will provide a showcase for your brilliant work.” Anita’s jaw dropped when Dorene handed over the check.

Then they pulled out the fabulous piece Anita had completed for Ida. Ida’s fingers hovered over her mementos and her green eyes glistened. Anita beamed.

I think Ida would rather have had her friend and she wore the incredible loss on her face. She didn’t need music, books, or archaic recording equipment, and she never looked at her check. She seemed ambivalent about the inheritance but more than thrilled with her encaustic.

When she finally glanced at the paper in her hand, she let out a hearty whoop and leaned over to show Dad. He chuckled with her.

“Party at the Clemashevski house. Seven o’clock, sharp. Be there!”