Chapter Seven

Late on Thursday afternoon, Kate still was thinking about Dr. McLaughlin’s cryptic comments and his impressive résumé as she walked into the kitchen to contemplate dinner. They had lots of leftovers, and she had intended to clean out the refrigerator. But she wasn’t really in the mood for leftovers. So what could she make instead? It was only four o’clock, but that didn’t leave a lot of time for a creative gourmet effort.

The ringing of the telephone interrupted her musings, and she closed the refrigerator door before reaching for the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey, there, Sherlock.”

“Watson! What’s up?” Kate grinned. There were few people in Copper Mill with whom Kate would rather speak than with her friend Livvy.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“Ask away.”

“On Saturday evening, Danny and I are going to a charity auction to support the humane society in Pine Ridge. I found a darling little black dress, but it needs something at the neck. Could I borrow that pretty woven black scarf you have with the red glittery threads running through it? I think it’s just what the dress needs.”

“Of course.” Kate was delighted that Livvy felt comfortable enough to ask. “I could drop it by the library sometime tomorrow.”

“That would be great,” Livvy said. “I’m swamped here this week.”

“I’ll be glad to drop it off,” Kate said. “See you then.”

Just as she hung up the phone, a peremptory knock at the front door startled her. “Who could that be?” she murmured as she walked through the large living room to the door.

The moment she opened the door, a whirlwind of pink and perfume came sweeping past her.

“Hello, Renee! Would you like to come in?” It was a joke, of course, since Renee hadn’t waited for the invitation. But the woman didn’t appear to notice Kate’s delivery.

“Hello, Kate.” Renee was wearing deep pink wool slacks paired with a paler pink twinset. Black patent leather pumps with at least three-inch heels and enough gold jewelry to outfit three other women completed the outfit. Without the leopard-print coat, which often dwarfed her slight frame, Renee looked almost elegant. Until one noticed the huge pink plaid handbag over one shoulder or the tiny Chihuahua she cuddled beneath the other arm. The dog, Kisses, was attached to a jeweled leash that dangled down to Renee’s knee. Kisses wore a pink sweater as well, with a tiny collar studded with pink gems.

As soon as Kate shut the door, Renee bent down and set Kisses on the floor, unsnapping the jeweled leash.

“There, my Little Umpkins,” she cooed. “Look where we are. Grandma’s house!”

Kisses immediately began running circles around Renee, clearly delighted to be unfettered.

“Would you like some tea?” Although it was a bit late for tea, Kate knew Renee would expect it. Mentally, she resigned herself to serving leftovers for dinner, since she fully expected this visit to consume any preparatory time she might have had for making something else.

She knelt, and when Kisses came rushing over to put his paws on her knee, she stroked his tiny head. “Hello, little man. Welcome to Grandma’s.” It had become a source of amusement to both her and Paul that they had gained a “grand-dog.”

“Tea would be acceptable. You know how I like it.” Kate knew all too well. “And a bowl of water for my Sweet Umpkins, of course.” Renee inclined her head, and Kate grinned, suspecting that Renee thought the effort looked regal. It might have worked if she’d been to Betty’s Beauty Parlor anytime recently. But her dark roots showed, marring the look created by Renee’s blonde hair and carefully applied makeup.

Kate went into the kitchen after Renee seated herself on the love seat, Kisses’ diminutive nails making tiny clacking noises as he followed Kate from the carpeted living room to the vinyl on the kitchen floor. First, she set down a small bowl of water for the little dog. Kisses attacked it as if he had been in the desert for a week. He drained nearly three-quarters of the bowl, and Kate eyed him with trepidation.

“I know what goes in must come out,” she said to the dog, “but I would appreciate it if you would wait until you get outside again to get rid of all that water.”

Then she rose and put a kettle of water on the stove. Working with practiced motions refined by many years of hostessing, she placed a pretty doily on a silver tray and set out Renee’s tea just the way the older woman liked it, pouring some warmed half-and-half into a small milk pitcher. She added the loose-leaf Earl Grey tea Renee insisted upon and the bowl of natural sugar cubes Kate had purchased after learning of Renee’s often and loudly stated preferences. She included a flowered china plate with several peanut-butter cookies from a batch she had made a few days ago.

Kate chose a teapot from among those she had collected over the years and filled it with hot water, then completed the tray with two pretty china cups.

Carrying the tray into the living room, she set it on the coffee table and took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs at a right angle to Renee.

“So, what’s the occasion for today’s visit?” Kate asked as she handed Renee her tea and set about making some for herself. She watched as Kisses trotted across the moss green shag carpet and settled himself beneath the coffee table.

“Tell me everything you know about Emmaline Ashford,” Renee demanded.

Kate raised her eyebrows. “You know I don’t just give away details of other people’s lives, Renee.” Kate gave her an admonishing smile. “I can tell you she’s from Philadelphia.”

Renee fixed an unblinking stare on Kate.

Finally, Kate said, “What I know about Emmaline would fit on the head of a pin. She works from home writing for magazines, and she’s a very skilled artist. Why do you want to know?”

“She’s not very friendly,” Renee said, huffy annoyance in her tone.

Kate knew the older woman well enough to suspect there was hurt buried beneath her irritation.

Surprised, Kate echoed, “Not very friendly?”

“Not at all.” Renee nodded her head in one short, sharp motion. “I have called her several times to invite her out, but she always has an excuse. If I hadn’t promised you I would take care of her, I’d forget it altogether!”

Kate remembered Emmaline gushing over Renee’s thoughtfulness, so she found Renee’s statement puzzling. Then again, given Renee’s propensity for sticking her nose into other people’s business, it was surprising that she wasn’t rebuffed more often. Perhaps Emmaline had been put off by Renee after they had spent a little time together.

“She seems to be a very private person,” Kate said diplomatically. “Perhaps she’s simply busy.” Although in the five short days Kate had known her, Emmaline certainly hadn’t been too busy to spend time with her.

“I heard you were at the hospital this morning,” Renee said in a lightning shift of topic.

Kate shook her head, chuckling. “I swear, news travels faster in this town than rumors on the Internet.” She picked up her tea and took a sip. “So, tell me how your mother is getting along.”

Paul came through the door a short while later. Renee finally was getting ready to leave, and Kate walked her to the door. The moment Renee was gone, Kate went in search of her husband.

She found him in the office, thumbing through a thick text, mumbling to himself. “Uh-oh,” she said, smiling as she wiggled her way between Paul and the book and slipped her arms around his waist. “You’re hot on the trail of a reference for a sermon, aren’t you? I recognize the signs.”

“Caught in the act.” Paul laughed as he set the book aside and returned her hug. “How was your day?”

“Well,” Kate said, “other than Renee derailing my plans for supper, my day was fine. I did have a slightly weird moment yesterday, but I didn’t get a chance to tell you about it last night because of choir practice.” She grabbed the sketch Emmaline had given her. “Look at this.”

Paul unrolled the paper and immediately whistled in appreciation. “Wow! This is excellent, Katie. Who did this?”

“Emmaline did it.”

“I didn’t know you were sitting for her.” Paul studied the sketch.

“I didn’t.”

That got his attention. “Really?” he asked, lifting his head. “This is from memory?”

Kate nodded. “Paul, that’s the outfit I wore to the Bristol last Sunday. She has reproduced it exactly, right down to the scarf and jewelry.”

“She’s really good,” Paul murmured.

“She is,” Kate agreed. “But I have to tell you, I feel a little...unsettled, thinking that someone I really don’t know very well at all has been studying me so closely. She insists that she doesn’t have a photographic memory. And she can’t even seem to remember the name of the doctor who took her case at the hospital. So it seems odd that she’d be able to draw such an amazing likeness of me from memory.”

Paul stroked his chin. “I can understand why this would make you feel a little odd.”

“Then it’s not just me?” she asked.

“Not just you,” her husband confirmed. “It’s weird. Period.”

THAT EVENING, Kate went into their home office and logged on to the computer to do a little Internet sleuthing. Their dial-up access at home was so slow and frustrating that she rarely got online. But the library was closed, and Kate was curious. She Googled “Emmaline Ashford,” hoping some of Emmaline’s articles could be downloaded free.

The search engine ground on and on, showing the little hourglass icon for what seemed like hours to Kate, though it was only minutes in reality. Finally, the results popped up: “0 results for ‘Emmaline Ashford.’”

“What?” Kate blew out a frustrated breath. Must be the computer. She double-checked her spelling, then tried again with a different search engine.

A few minutes later, she was staring in perplexity at the same result.

“No Emmaline Ashford? How can that be?” Then a thought occurred to her. Emmaline had signed some of her paintings with her maiden name; perhaps she wrote under that nom de plume also.

Quickly, she typed in “Emmaline N.” Even though she didn’t know the last name, Emmaline was unusual enough that a search should pull up something pertaining to the Emmaline Kate wanted. After the usual lengthy search process, the results came up: “0 results for ‘Emmaline N.’”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Kate muttered. “Where are you?” She deleted the “N” and Googled just “Emmaline.” This time, the computer yielded results. But they weren’t the ones Kate was seeking.

First on the list were several sites dealing with baby names and the meaning of the name Emmaline. Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia, had a biography of Emmaline Henry, a twentieth-century actress of modest acclaim. Flickr, a photo-sharing site, had some pictures posted by a girl named Emmaline.

But nowhere did Kate read anything about her Emmaline.

“I don’t get it,” she said as Paul came in to see what she was up to. “Emmaline says she writes for several magazines, and yet I can’t find any mention of her anywhere on the Internet.”

“On our dial-up connection,” Paul said with a grin.

“I thought the same thing. But it does the same thing the library computers do,” Kate told him. “It just takes four times as long.”

She got off-line and shut down the computer for the evening. As she got ready for bed, Kate couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t been able to find any articles written by Emmaline.

PAUL HAD BARELY LEFT for the office on Friday morning when the Hanlons’ telephone rang.

Kate, lugging a basket of laundry toward the washing machine in the garage, blew her hair out of her face and hurried to grab the cordless handset in the living room. “Hello?”

“Good morning, Kate, it’s Emmaline.” The voice was cheery and enthusiastic.

“Good morning,” Kate said. Her thoughts immediately flashed back to the previous night. She was anxious to ask her new friend about her puzzling nonappearance on the Internet, but she could wait until she saw Emmaline. “Are you having another flash of inspiration?” she asked.

Emmaline chuckled. “Not of the artistic kind. But I had another great idea. How about if I treat you to lunch somewhere today?”

Kate thought through her day. Nothing urgent was on her calendar. The only thing she had to do was to drop off the scarf for Livvy at the library. “All right. Shall I drive?”

“I’d appreciate that. I’m still not feeling very confident about getting behind the wheel. I’ll be ready right around noon, if that suits.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” Kate couldn’t help wondering why Emmaline didn’t want to drive. Was she afraid she’d have another attack like the one she had at the Bristol? But Dr. McLaughlin had reassured Kate that Emmaline was fine, and she seemed healthy to Kate, for the most part. So what was going on?

A few hours later, Kate changed into a casual pair of khaki pants and a light blue blouse for lunch. Although it was a warm autumn day, she slung a navy V-neck sweater around her shoulders and knotted the sleeves in front of her. Restaurants were often chilly, and Emmaline hadn’t specified where she wanted to eat.

Picking up her handbag and the scarf for Livvy that she had laid beside it, Kate went out to her car and drove off.

EMMALINE CAME OUT her front door the moment Kate pulled into the driveway. Wearing navy slacks with an ivory twinset, she came down the walkway with a spring in her step, looking as healthy as anyone Kate had ever met.

Kate couldn’t ignore the obvious inconsistencies in Emmaline’s behavior. How could a person with a chronic illness look so healthy and energetic most of the time and not seem to suffer any lasting effects from her recent attacks? And perhaps even more important, why would Emmaline lead Kate to believe she had some type of heart trouble when the doctor had said she would be fine? What kind of sickness could make her so determined to protect her privacy that she would deliberately mislead Kate? The more Kate grew to like Emmaline, the more she cared about the woman’s well-being and felt afraid that Emmaline was hiding a painful secret.

“Hello, hello,” Emmaline sang out as she climbed into the passenger seat.

Kate laughed, setting aside the puzzle for later. “Hello. Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Someone is.” Emmaline smiled. “It’s a beautiful day, I feel absolutely fantastic, and I’m going out to lunch with one of my new favorite people. Why wouldn’t I be in a good mood?”

“You’re right. Why wouldn’t you?” Kate smiled as she backed out of the drive and started down the street. “Do you mind if we stop at the library before going to lunch? I have to drop off something.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“By the way, Emmaline,” Kate began casually, “I tried to look you up online last night to read one of your articles—I mentioned it the other day, remember?—but I couldn’t find anything in the search results. Do you publish under a pen name?”

Emmaline was silent for a moment. “No,” she said, “I use my own name.”

“That’s weird,” Kate said, “because not a single thing came up.”

“I guess I’m just not that famous,” Emmaline said, apparently unconcerned.

Kate decided to let the matter drop but filed it away in her memory for another time. Authors of even the smallest works could be found on the Internet in today’s world. It seemed implausible that Emmaline wouldn’t be among them. Maybe, Kate thought with a touch of humor, she was a wildly successful famous author living incognito in Copper Mill.

The two women talked a bit about their recent art endeavors as Kate drove south on Sweetwater and parked in the lot behind the library. When she opened her door, she said, “I’ll just be a moment.”

But Emmaline had already opened her own door. “I’ve never been into the library,” she said. “Do you mind if I tag along?”

The two women made their way up the steps and through the double-glass doors. “I believe you met my friend Livvy when she dropped off a meal for you this week,” Kate said to Emmaline. “She’s the head librarian.”

“Actually, we didn’t meet,” Emmaline said. “I was napping and didn’t hear the doorbell, so she left the casserole on the porch and called me. I’ll have to thank her. It was delicious.”

They entered the library. Livvy was behind the circulation desk, checking out a patron. She winked at them and held up one finger, and Kate grinned back. A moment later, the customer took his books and walked out, and Livvy came out from behind the counter.

“Hey,” she said.

Kate indicated the woman who accompanied her. “Livvy, this is Emmaline Ashford. Emmaline, Livvy Jenner.”

Her two friends shook hands.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Emmaline said. “I wanted to thank you for the casserole. It was delicious.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Livvy said. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Kate held out the scarf. “Here you go, Livvy. You’re going to look fabulous. Are you thinking of buying anything at the auction?”

“An auction?” Emmaline interjected.

Livvy explained the Humane Society’s fund-raising event to Emmaline. “So my husband and I are going, and I bought this black dress, but I realized it needed something. I remembered Kate had this scarf—”

“So she called and begged,” Kate broke in.

“I hope you weren’t planning to wear it,” Livvy said.

Kate shook her head. “The only place Paul and I are planning to go anytime soon is back to the Bristol for brunch on Sunday. And I certainly won’t have any trouble finding something in my wardrobe that will work for church and brunch.”

Both women laughed; Kate’s sophisticated “citified” wardrobe had been the object of discussion in town from time to time.

“So,” Kate said, “back to the auction. Are you hoping to find anything special?”

“I would love to have a print in some sort of soft pastels for the downstairs bathroom,” Livvy said. “You know how boring that tan and brown theme is, and I want to redo it. I figure if I buy a print, I can talk Danny into painting the walls and maybe even get a new floor.”

“Good idea,” Kate said. “The current color scheme could use a little spicing up, I must admit.”

Livvy snorted. “Oh, stop being so tactful, Kate. It’s horrendous and you know it!” Both women laughed again.

Emmaline said, “Kate and I are working on projects together.”

It was an awkward segue, at best, and Kate stopped chuckling. “We are?”

“Well, not working on the same one together,” Emmaline amended, “but we’ve been inspiring each other. Kate’s starting an iris panel in her stained glass after seeing a sketch I did of irises.”

“Well, aren’t you feeling creative,” Livvy said to Kate. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Oh, I’ll probably let Steve Smith put it up for sale.” She caught the gleam in Livvy’s eye. “Uh-oh. I recognize that look. What do you want me to do with it?”

“Well,” said Livvy in her best sugary-sweet tone, “I would say donate it for the auction tomorrow night, but since it’s not finished, that’s a bit of a problem. So if you really wanted to be beneficent, you could donate it to the Friends of the Library for the raffle next spring at Sidewalk Sale Days. Something beautiful like that would really bump up ticket sales, I imagine.”

“You,” said Kate, “are a con artist.”

“You already knew that,” Livvy said, grinning.

“You could donate something too,” Kate said to Emmaline. Her friend was turned toward the window, watching a group of teenagers cavort in the grassy courtyard.

Emmaline hesitated. “Possibly,” she said in a distant tone. “If I’m still here.”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“It’s a good idea,” Kate said hurriedly to Livvy, “and I’ll be happy to donate something. Do you want to mention it to the president of the group for me?”

“Sure. I’ll let you know what she says next time we walk.”

Livvy had to have noticed Emmaline’s fit of pique, or whatever it was, but she was taking her cue from Kate and ignoring it.

“Speaking of which, when do you want to walk again? You’re the one with the busy schedule right now.”

Livvy considered. “We could go after the library closes. Do you want me to come over after I get off?”

“That would be great,” Kate said. “I haven’t walked in a couple of days, and I don’t want to let myself get out of the habit.”

“See you later, then,” Livvy said. She smiled at Emmaline. “It was nice to meet you.”

Emmaline had already begun to move away and must not have heard Livvy, because she didn’t answer.

Kate sent a confused look Emmaline’s way, then said to Livvy, “We’re off to lunch. I’ll see you later. Enjoy the auction tomorrow.”

KATE WALKED AFTER EMMALINE, who seemed in a hurry to return to the car. She was already seated on the passenger side with her seat belt fastened by the time Kate reached the driver’s side.

As she slid behind the wheel, Kate said, “Let’s eat!”

There was a silence. Then Emmaline said, “If you still want to go.” Her tone was sulky.

Kate was so taken aback that all she could think was that Emmaline sounded like her daughters, Melissa and Rebecca, during their early adolescence.

Finally, Kate said, “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t know if you still wanted to go,” Emmaline said. “It seemed like you would rather have just stayed at the library with your friend.”

Nothing to do but ignore it, Kate decided, although Emmaline’s apparent jealousy—was there another word for her attitude?—felt more than a little unsettling. Trying to mask her discomfort, Kate said, “Lunch will be fun. Did you have a place in mind?”

Emmaline seemed to shake off some of her strange mood at the question. After weighing the options, they decided to drive over to Pine Ridge to a restaurant called Le Peau’s.

Lunch was pleasant. Under a steady stream of questions, Kate spent much of the meal telling Emmaline about her life in San Antonio and Paul’s desire to make a drastic change in his ministry that led them to Copper Mill. Emmaline talked a little about her grandmother and what she remembered of the town from her childhood visits, but Kate noticed she seemed much more interested in asking the questions than in answering them.

Afterward, Kate drove back to Emmaline’s house.

“Would you like to come in?” Emmaline asked when Kate pulled into the driveway.

Kate smiled. “Thank you, but I had better pass. There are a few things I want to get done around the house this afternoon.”

“But you have time to go walking with Livvy,” Emmaline said. The words had an almost accusatory ring. They verged on being outright sarcastic.

“Well, yes,” Kate said, taking a deep breath. “I try to build some exercise into my schedule several days a week.”

“Okay. Well, don’t have too much fun without me,” Emmaline said with a wink as she climbed out of the car.

She may have meant the comment as a joke, completely innocent banter. If Livvy had uttered the words, Kate never would have given it a second thought. But in light of Emmaline’s earlier behavior and the seeming accusation a moment before, Emmaline’s words sounded more like a warning than a jest.

As Kate waved and drove off, she shook her head. Emmaline appeared to have made Kate her new best friend, although Kate hadn’t realized it until that afternoon. Gracious, they hadn’t even known each other a full week! Perhaps it would be good to back off a little, let Emmaline develop friendships with some other people rather than becoming so attached to Kate so quickly.