Kate sat at the dining-room table between her dad and Elliot, and across from her four children. She smiled as Jesse dumped a mound of Parmesan cheese over his third helping of spaghetti.
“Mama, this tastes so good,” Jesse said. “You should sell your sauce and make a fortune.”
“A fortune, huh?” Kate chuckled. “I don’t know about that, but it’s always fun to serve it to this crowd.”
“Seriously, Jesse has a point.” Abby Cummings tucked her long auburn hair behind her ear. “Your sauce is perfect on all your pasta dishes: ravioli, manicotti, tortellini, lasagna—anything. We ought to put together a cookbook of your recipes and sell it together with a jar of your homemade sauce. I’ll bet the guests would go for it. It’s a great souvenir to take home for themselves or someone else. Especially if you autograph the cookbook.”
Hawk Cummings nudged Abby with his elbow. “What a cool idea, Sis. And here I thought the entrepreneurial gene skipped you.”
Abby looked up at him and grinned. “Thanks. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.”
“I appreciate your vote of confidence, everyone.” Kate waved her hand dismissively. “But I’m happy to make it just for us.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to blow it off, Kate,” Elliot Stafford said. “People usually leave here with souvenirs, right? If we could find a clever way to package your cookbook and a jar of homemade pasta sauce, it’d be a great personal addition to the gift shop.”
“We could sell it at Flutter’s too,” Abby quickly added. “We could use it in some menu items and make a display at the cash register. Great impulse item.”
“Goodness”—Kate was sure her cheeks were pinker than Abby’s sweater—“I didn’t expect all this.”
Riley dipped her garlic bread in pasta sauce and took a bite. “It’s yummy. I never had nothin’ like this before I came here to live.”
Suddenly everything was quiet. All heads turned to Riley.
“I meant I never tasted anything like this before I came here to live.” Riley giggled. “I keep working and working to say things right. But sometimes I just forget.”
“You’re doing great”—Hawk nudged her in the ribs—“for a pipsqueak.”
Riley cocked her head, the corners of her mouth twitching. “I’m not a pipsqueak.”
“Too bad,” Hawk said. “Because if you were, I might let you pour the chocolate sauce on the spumoni ice cream I picked up at Sweet Stuff.”
“Okay. Okay. I’m a pipsqueak. I want to pour the chocolate. But what’s spanomi?”
“No,” Jesse said. “Spoo-moan-ee. It’s like this awesome cherry-chocolate-and-pistachio ice cream.”
Abby tapped her spoon on her water glass. “I think Grandpa Buck has something he wants to say.”
Kate’s dad wiped the red off his white mustache with the flowered napkin that matched Kate’s new tablecloth. “Before we set our sights on dessert,” he said, “I think we should take a vote. All in favor of Kate printin’ a cookbook to sell with her pasta sauce, raise your hand.”
Jesse’s arm shot in the air, as did everyone’s except Kate’s.
“Majority rules,” Jesse said.
“Goodness, I’m overwhelmed.” Kate moved her gaze from person to person. “I’d only be willing to go forward if it’s a family effort.”
“Let’s get Jay involved too.” Abby folded her napkin on the table. “He’d love doing the artwork—anything you want.”
“Picking out the cover paper and binding shouldn’t be hard,” Kate said. “I’ve worked with the print shop on brochures and marketing pieces for the lodge.”
Elliot reached over and covered Kate’s hand with his. “Don’t rule out self-publishing a hardcover cookbook. I could look into the cost difference. Hardcover would be classier. Your recipes are top notch, Kate. Way beyond just home cooking.”
Hawk laughed. “My mama, a published author. I say, go for it.”
“I’m a good salesman,” Jesse said. “I could make sure shop owners in town know that Mama’s cookbooks and sauce are in our gift shop and see if they would sell them too.”
Riley didn’t say anything. She sat with her arms folded, her lower lip protruding.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Kate said.
“I want to help too.”
“How about you and me being in charge of distribution?” Hawk tugged one of her pigtails. “We’ll make sure the businesses Jesse sells to stay supplied with Mama’s cookbooks and sauce. We can make deliveries.”
Riley looked adoringly at Hawk. “I’ll be your number-one helper.”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m getting fired up about this,” Elliot said. “If we get busy, we might get it in before Christmas. It’s worth a try.”
“Then it’s settled.” Hawk stood and pushed back his chair. “Okay, Pipsqueak, let’s go dish up dessert.”
Jesse slid his plate aside and cleared his throat loudly enough to get everyone’s attention. “Isn’t anyone going to ask me how the fishing was today?”
“Since you didn’t say anything, I figured you got skunked again.” Hawk laughed.
Jesse shook his head, a grin toying with the corners of his mouth. “For your information, I caught sixty-two crappie and thirteen catfish.” He held up his hands and proudly displayed the gill nicks and rough fingers that were proof he’d taken a lot of fish off the hook. “I forgot my stringer, so I released them all. But I took selfies.” Jesse handed his phone to Hawk. “I’m going back. The fish were still biting when I ran out of bait. Man, I hit the jackpot.”
“I’ll say.” Hawk raised an eyebrow. “Where were you fishing?”
“It’s my secret.” Jesse pointed to himself with his thumb, seeming to enjoy having the family’s undivided attention. “It’s too far for Grandpa this time. But I’ll take you there, if you want.”
“I want,” Hawk said.
“Can I go?” Riley’s bright blue eyes were pleading. “Pleeease?”
“There’s always room for a pipsqueak,” Hawk said, “but I should go check it out first. I think your other big brother might be exaggerating. So, Jesse … who else knows about your fishing hole?”
“Just me. A man and white-haired lady were wading in the river, but I don’t think they paid me much mind.”
“How about you show me this place tomorrow after church?”
“It’s gonna cost you.” Jesse wore a playful grin. “Hey, I’m a businessman.”
“So what’s your price?”
“A ride down to Evans’s Sporting Goods,” Jesse said. “I want to spend some of my savings on a lighter rod and four-pound test line.”
“Before or after we go find the fishing hole?”
“Before.” Jesse folded his hands on the table. “It’s nonnegotiable.”
“Done.” Hawk looked over at Kate and winked. “We’ve definitely got too many business heads in this family.”
Liam heard the grandfather clock strike eight, and watched Colleen pick at the veggies on her plate. He had stifled his own emotions and managed a believable show of support as they searched for their mother. Colleen verbalized optimism that she would surface alive and unharmed, but he could see her resolve slipping. He just hoped their mother’s body was discovered soon so they could get the autopsy over with, give her a proper burial, and proceed with dividing up the money. His worst fear was that her body wouldn’t be found; and without a death certificate, the inheritance money would be on hold indefinitely.
He blinked the stinging from his eyes. He had done the only right thing. Nothing would ever make him believe otherwise. Ending their mother’s life was more compassionate than letting her live out her days at the Alzheimer’s hospital, babbling to strangers about the snippets of a life she could no longer remember.
“Liam?”
He was suddenly aware of Colleen’s voice and realized she was standing next to him.
“Are you done?” she said.
He glanced at the half-eaten chicken breast and baked potato. “I guess so. Sorry I didn’t finish. It’s not that it wasn’t good.”
“That’s okay. I’m not hungry either.” She started to take his plate, but then lowered it back to the table and flopped down in the chair next to him. “What are we going to do?”
Was that a rhetorical question, or was she actually expecting him to answer?
“It’s only been a few hours,” Liam said. “I’ll bet someone from the sheriff’s department will call any minute, saying she’s been found.” Why was he giving her hope? He should be preparing her for the grim truth.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Colleen sighed. “Let’s split up this time and go look for her again. If we don’t know something by bedtime, I think we have to file a missing person’s report.”
“Agreed.” Liam gently gripped his sister’s wrist. “But I’m going with you. I don’t think you should be alone.”
“Probably not. I can’t just sit around here. I have to keep trying.”
“Sis”—Liam paused until she looked at him—“I know it’s hard to talk about this. But we need to prepare ourselves in case this doesn’t have the ending we want.”
Colleen shook her head. “I’m not ready to have this conversation. Let’s just go look for Mom, okay?”
“Sure,” Liam said softly, both dreading and hoping for the moment when they would get the call that their mother’s body had been found. Would seeing Colleen heartbroken trigger the release of the pent-up emotion he fought to contain? Or would he be so focused on not raising suspicion that his emotions would be shut down and he’d have to fake a strong reaction?
Liam took in a slow, deep breath and let it out. Then did it again. Regardless of whether his performance was felt or contrived, it would have to be believable.
Liam sat in the chair in his bedroom, staring out the window into the darkness. The stars no longer looked to him like diamonds on black velvet, but more like a million shards of broken glass crushed on the floor of heaven.
He and Colleen had come back from tonight’s futile search and filed the missing person’s report. The detectives had no trouble believing their mother had wandered off because she’d done it a number of times before.
Had he acted prematurely by taking his mother’s life? It was a desperate move. But someone had to step up. It would have been unfair to sentence her to live out her days in emotional isolation, lost in some inner maze of mixed-up thoughts and incomplete sentences. No caregiver from the Alzheimer’s center could give back her memory or her dignity. All they could do was make her hopeless existence comfortable in order to justify the high cost of keeping her there.
Liam blinked away the last image he’d had of his mother before he held her head under water.
“Who’s gettin’ baptized?”
“You are, Dixie.”
He had used something sacred in order to deceive her in those last seconds. At least he got it over with quickly. He wondered if people in heaven knew how they had died. If so, his mother would surely thank him for ending her life before the disease rendered her subhuman.
Liam wiped a runaway tear from his cheek. Colleen always contended that every human life had value because God made it. But God hadn’t made his mother without a memory. Disease stole it from her. She had been intelligent, clever, creative. Vivacious and bubbly, gracious and hospitable. She never knew a stranger until the Alzheimer’s took hold. Half the time she didn’t even recognize him or Colleen. Or remember her own name. How did that glorify the Creator?
Liam got up and stretched his lower back. Why was he arguing with himself when he needed to rest? The stress of sitting eye to eye with Deputies Duncan and Hobbs and filing a missing person’s report while trying to look more worried than guilty had taken everything out of him.
Colleen still held fast to the hope that their mother was merely lost and would be found unharmed. She called the prayer chain at her church, and someone set up a conference call so that everyone on the prayer team could pray with her. That seemed to calm her, and she finally went to bed.
Liam had all the answers. So why was he wide eyed and staring into the darkness? He eased back into the chair and heaved a sigh. What was done was done. His mother was at peace. Half of the inheritance money would soon be his. What he had to do now was avoid raising suspicion. He needed to be a comfort to Colleen as they grieved their loss. Later on, when he finally got his share of the money, he would use it to get out of debt and buy back his independence. That was the best way to honor his mother.