MY TIMING COULDN’T HAVE BEEN BETTER. I COULD smell the pot roast from the front verandah even before I opened the door.
“We’re back here,” Lavinia replied in answer to my call. “I’ll set a plate,” she added as I moved down the hall and into the kitchen. My father’s wheelchair was pulled up in its usual place.
“I thought you were supposed to stay in bed for a few days,” I said, dropping a brief kiss on the top of his head.
“Harley’s an old woman,” he growled, dragging a hunk of potato through the rich gravy.
I slid out a chair and faced him across the scarred table, wincing at what all that fat must be doing to his already clogged arteries. His color was a lot better, and he’d lost that transparent look to his skin. He’d dropped a few pounds in the hospital, but judging by the heap of food on his plate, he’d have them back in no time.
Lavinia set a dish in front of me and resumed her seat. Steam rose from the chunks of beef. She’d left off the cooked carrots—never one of my favorites—as well as the peas. Meat and potatoes. And corn-bread. It’s a wonder I don’t weigh two hundred pounds.
“I did my best,” she said, nodding in the Judge’s direction, “but you know how stubborn your father can be.”
They exchanged a smile that made my heart turn over.
“Vinnie knows better than to try to win a battle of wills with me.”
“Stubborn,” she muttered again and bent her head to her plate.
We ate in silence for a while, the ticking of the grandfather clock down the hall punctuating the stillness of the old house. I wondered if Red had been and gone at my place. He didn’t keep much there, even though he’d practically been in full-time residence since Christmas. It wouldn’t take him long to—
My father’s voice cut into my depressing thoughts, almost as if he’d been reading my mind. “Where’s Redmond? Haven’t seen the boy in a month of Sundays.”
“Busy,” I said and stuffed potatoes dripping with gravy into my mouth.
But the Judge knew me too well. “Somethin’ the matter? You two have a falling-out?”
I sighed and laid my fork across my plate. “Not exactly. He’s thinking of quitting the sheriff’s department.”
“I’m not surprised,” the Judge replied. “It’s a hard business. Too much misery for a body to deal with day after day, and he’s been at it a long time. What’s he gonna do?”
I really didn’t want to get into it, but I couldn’t exactly tell my father to mind his own business. Well, I could—and had on more than one occasion—but I didn’t have the energy for the inevitable confrontation that would follow.
“He’s thinking about going into a charter business with an old Marine buddy.”
My hope that the Judge would leave it there was unrealistic and short-lived.
“He’s not a fisherman as I recall. Or much into boats. What’s he know about chartering?”
“His friend has been at it for a while. Red could learn from him.”
“What do you think about it?”
“I told him I’d support him in any way I can, but—”
“But he’s proud and doesn’t want anything from you except your blessing. Am I right?”
I smiled. “Pretty much. He thinks he has to support me, financially I mean. I said I didn’t—”
“Didn’t need him to keep you, right?” My father shook his head. “No man likes to hear that, daughter. Haven’t you learned anything from bein’ alive for forty years?”
“Leave her alone, Tally,” Lavinia said. She laid a hand on mine where it rested on the old oak table. “He’ll get over it. Men and their pride are a fearsome thing. Give him some time.”
The jangle of my cell phone saved the situation from turning maudlin. I excused myself and stepped out into the hall. The caller ID showed an 843 area code, but I didn’t recognize the number.
“Bay Tanner,” I said, turning my back on the kitchen.
“This is Ellis Brawley. From Jacksonboro?”
I felt at least 75 percent of the tension drain from my body. “Yes. Thanks so much for calling back. Do you have any information for me?”
“Sort of,” he said, the hesitancy thick in his voice. “I talked it over with Miss Lizzie, out at the Hall. She’s been like a grandmother to me, since . . . well, since I didn’t really know either one of my own.”
I couldn’t let that slide. “Neither of your grandmothers is living?” I did a quick calculation, based on my assumption of Ellis’s age. He would have been a teenager when Joline Eastman lost her mother and grandmother. Did that mean anything? Which generation should I be concerned about? I snapped back to the young man’s voice.
“Uncle Duke’s and my father’s mama passed before I was born.” He paused. “I don’t know about the other one. On my mother’s side. Or at least I didn’t.”
I held my breath and let it out slowly. “You’ve found something?”
“I don’t know if it will help, but Miss Lizzie said I should do what I can. She said not wanting to get involved is what’s the matter with the world these days.”
I wanted to meet this wise woman, who apparently shared my feelings, but that was for another day. “So what did you find out?”
“My mom had to go out to a PTA meeting tonight, and Dad’s in his workshop. Mom’s a teacher, you know. So I looked in the old Bible she keeps by her bed. There’s some names in there—births and deaths and so on.”
I wanted to reach through the phone and shake him. “And is Maeline in there?”
“Yes, ma’am. Best I can make out, Patience—that’s my mom—and Maeline’s father Shadrack were first cousins.”
I tried to work it out in my head, but I’d never been much for genealogy. “So that means one of Maeline’s grandparents and one of yours were siblings. Is that right?”
“It’s hard to tell from this, but I think that sounds right. Anyway, I thought I’d copy it out on a piece of paper. I can scan that and e-mail it to you.”
“That would be great! Does it list Maeline’s last name?”
“Just her birth name. Mitchell, same as Mama’s. And Maeline has two sisters—Joline and Contessa. So does that help?”
I wanted to scream, both with joy and frustration. “Absolutely. It helps immensely. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Ellis. You’ve done a good thing.”
“Don’t know that my mom would agree with that, but I figure I’ll just keep it to myself. I’m normally not a sneaky sort of person, but, like I told Miss Lizzie, this is for a good cause, right?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “And thank Miss Lizzie for encouraging you. I’d like to meet her someday.”
I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Not much chance of that. She almost never leaves the Hall, and they don’t welcome visitors. Especially strangers. Whole place is full of signs and warnings.”
Something clicked in my head. “Is this hall out at the end of Holly Hill Road?” I remembered that Peggy Watts, the wrong Maeline’s neighbor, had called it the old McDowell place.
“Yes, ma’am. How did you know that?”
“I ran into it accidentally when I was looking for Mrs. Hatcher. I turned around in the drive, and I saw some of the signs. Miss Lizzie must like her privacy.”
Ellis didn’t take the bait. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I should go and get this copied so I can send it to you before Mama gets home. Should I use this e-mail address on your card?”
“That would be great. Thanks again, Ellis. This information could make all the difference.”
“You’re welcome. I know you said it was confidential and all, but could you maybe let me know how things work out?”
“I’ll sure try,” I said.
“Okay,” he said and hung up.
I hit the End button and immediately punched in Erik’s cell. He was as thrilled as I was.
“Contessa, huh? There can’t be more than one or two of those floating around in the databases. I’ll give him about half an hour and then check the office e-mail account. Are you home?”
“No,” I said, and the weight of Red’s probable desertion crashed down around me. “I’m at Presqu’isle. I should be leaving here in an hour or so.”
“I’ll get going on this as soon as I get the e-mail and call you if I come up with anything.”
“That’ll be great.”
I ended the call and stood for a moment staring through the doorway into the front parlor. With all the Christmas decorations gone, it had returned to its austere splendor, every piece of art and china back in its assigned place. I remembered my mother standing in this very spot, a satisfied smile curving her generous lips, as she gazed at her treasures. I’d never appreciated their beauty or their history and probably never would. Things didn’t matter that much to me. Life was all about people—the ones you loved and the ones who loved you. And the ones you lost. Rob’s image seemed to float in the still air of the elegant room, the warmth of his smile lighting the cold space. So much like Red. Were both of them gone? I could feel the tears threatening when Lavinia’s voice from the kitchen offered me a welcome reprieve.
“Bay, honey? You about done out there? I’m puttin’ an apple turnover out for you.”
“Coming.” I stood for a moment longer staring into the empty fireplace across the room. Cold and empty. Just like my house would be. I turned back toward the light, wondering if I had already played my last hand. And lost.