| |
I
arrived at Designs on You and let Jazzy out of her crate. After making sure she was settled in and had fresh kibble, I went over to talk with Connie.
“Hey, there! How are you?” Connie was as bubbly as ever in a blue and white tie-dyed tunic, leggings, and sandals. “I saw what appeared to be a bridal party entering your shop yesterday morning.”
“That was indeed a bridal party, and I’ve been commissioned to do the bridesmaids’ dresses.”
She gave me a high five. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you.” I thought about how much I’d liked Connie before that whole weirdness at the restaurant and Guy. I hoped I’d regain that feeling soon.
I looked around Delightful Home. Connie had replaced the curtains with green-and-white gingham.
“I like the new curtains,” I said. “Very pretty.”
She smiled. “I appreciate that. I feel it’s a major compliment coming from you. I finished them last night and came in early this morning to hang them.”
“I didn’t realize you were a fellow seamstress.”
“Hardly,” Connie said. “I can make a simple skirt, sew a pillow, and whip up some curtains, but I wouldn’t even try to do what you do.”
I browsed Connie’s shelves of essential oils and selected a bottle of lavender. “I love lavender oil in my bath, and I’m just about out.”
“These oils are excellent quality...wildcrafted and organic. I think you’ll love it. And, of course, if you don’t, I have a money-back guarantee.”
As I paid for my purchase, I asked Connie if she had Lorinda Tinsley’s phone number. At Connie’s raised brows, I explained, “I’d like to call and see how she’s doing. I realize I didn’t know Mark, but I want Ms. Tinsley to feel that the people at Shops on Main care about her...and her son.”
Connie stepped around the counter to give me a hug. “Aren’t you the sweetest?” She took out her phone, copied Lorinda Tinsley’s number from her contacts and texted it to me.
“I saw Guy come in with flowers,” I said. “Are he and Janice working things out?”
“He told me yesterday that he’s cautiously optimistic.”
“That’s good.” I held up my Delightful Home bag. “Thank you!”
“Thank you. I’ll talk with you later.”
I opened the door into the reception area of Designs on You to see Max dancing for Jazzy. The cat was following Max around and would occasionally flop down and roll onto her back while gazing up at the ghostly fashionista.
“What have you been doing while I’ve been entertaining the troops?” Max asked.
“I’ve been visiting with Connie.” I walked through to the atelier.
“What did you buy?”
“Lavender essential oil. It’s so relaxing in a bath.” I opened the filing cabinet and placed the small bag in the back.
“You don’t have to do that,” Max said. “It won’t bother me. In fact, I quite like the scent of lavender.”
“It’s not you I’m concerned about. Lavender oil can be toxic to cats.”
“Well, you learn something new every day.” She looked down at Jazzy, who’d followed us. “You’re much loved, little Jazzy cat. We don’t want you getting sick off lavender oil.”
I got a cup of coffee, returned to the reception area, and took out my phone. I motioned for Max to join me as I placed my phone on the round table between the two chairs.
She clasped her hands as she hovered above the chair across from mine. “You got Mark’s mother’s telephone number, didn’t you?”
“I did. But I’m a little hesitant to call from here. I’m afraid the walls have ears in this place.”
Max scoffed. “Only when I’m around. And who can I tell except you? Besides, if you don’t call from here, I’ll miss out on the conversation, and two minds are always better than one when you’re trying to sort things out.”
“Agreed. Still, let’s give everyone a few minutes to get settled in before we call. We don’t want to be interrupted.”
“Nor do we want to be too busy to talk with Mr. Handsome should he come down first thing to ask a certain someone for a date this weekend,” Max said. “I’m telling you, you should invite the man to dinner.”
“I might. I—” Before I could finish my thought, Max was gone.
In a few seconds, she was back. “Connie is scrolling through her phone. Frank and Ella are discussing their niece. Mrs. Meacham isn’t here yet. Ford is playing solitaire on his desktop. And Jason is setting up for his first appointment.” She nodded at the phone. “Dial.”
I took a sip of my coffee, took a deep breath, and called Ms. Tinsley. The woman answered on the first ring.
“Yes? Hello?”
“Good morning, Ms. Tinsley. It’s Amanda Tucker from Shops on Main. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No...you didn’t. I barely sleep at all these days.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you must be going through,” I said.
“I miss him so much. He moved back in with me a few months ago. I believe he could see how lonely I was. He was a kind young man...giving up his apartment for me...He was special.”
“I’m sure. Was Mark your only child, Ms. Tinsley?”
“Yes. Walter—Mark’s father—and I divorced when Mark was just four years old. I never remarried. I was too afraid Mark would feel as if he were second best or that another man wouldn’t love him like his own child.” She took a shuddering breath. “I saw how Mark’s stepmother treated him. “That woman only loved the child she brought into the marriage with Walter. She largely ignored Mark.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Isn’t it? And yet, Mark still adored his father. It would’ve broken his heart to know that Walter didn’t even attend the funeral.” Her voice cracked, and she was silent for a moment. I could well imagine she was composing herself before speaking again. “I couldn’t even locate Walter to tell him about Mark’s death.”
“I’m so, so sorry,” I said. “Everyone at Shops on Main misses Mark. I wish I could’ve known him longer.”
“I wish so too. I’m sure you would’ve been great friends.”
“We’re here for you, Ms. Tinsley, if you need to talk.” The words were hollow, I knew, but I meant them. I’d be happy to talk with this poor woman if it would help her in the least.
After ending the call, I looked at Max. “I feel like a hypocrite. I didn’t go to Mark’s funeral, and I only met the man once. And here I am calling his mother like he and I were great friends.”
“You didn’t tell her the two of you were great friends. You’re only a hypocrite if you misrepresent yourself.” She raised and dropped one shoulder. “Besides, you made Lorinda Tinsley feel better. That’s a good thing. She’s devastated and so horribly alone.”
“I know. How horrible that Mark’s dad missed the funeral.”
“Given the way Ms. Tinsley talked, he might not have known about it. It doesn’t appear she went to any extremes to find him.”
“I wonder if maybe Mark and his father had drifted apart,” I said.
“I don’t think so. I heard Mark talking on the phone to his dad quite often. And he’d always tell the man to be careful and to take care of himself.”
“Huh. That makes me wonder if Walter Tinsley is sick. Or was sick. Maybe the reason Ms. Tinsley couldn’t find him was because he was dead.”
I moved over to the desk and opened my laptop. A search for Walter Tinsley’s obituary didn’t turn up the person I’d expected, but it did give me another clue as to the man’s whereabouts.
“Look,” I told Max, then realized she was already there reading over my shoulder.
I’d found an obituary for Elizabeth Tinsley, which said she was survived by her spouse Walter of Allendale Village, beloved son Cole and wife Mara of Chattanooga, Tennessee, and stepson Mark of Abingdon, Virginia.
“Beloved son Cole,” Max sneered. “It’s obvious Lorinda Tinsley didn’t make up that bit about the stepmom’s favoritism.”
I’d already opened another tab and was looking up Allendale Village. It was an assisted living facility.
“Call them,” Max urged.
“And say what? Should I ask to talk with Walter Tinsley?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to tell the man his son is dead?” I asked, shaking my head.
“No, of course not! Just...I don’t know...ask him how’s tricks.”
I was gaping at her slack-jawed when my door opened. I quickly closed my mouth and greeted my customer.
JUST BEFORE LUNCHTIME, Connie popped in to ask if I’d spoken with Ms. Tinsley.
“I did. What do you know about Mark’s father?”
“I don’t know anything about him...but Janice might.”
I inclined my head. “I hesitate to ask Janice because I’m afraid she’ll think I’m only being nosy, but I’m actually concerned.” I explained to Connie how I’d found the obituary for Mark’s stepmother and learned that his father is—or was at that time—in an assisted living facility.
“How long ago was that?” Connie asked.
“About six months ago. Ms. Tinsley said she’d tried to contact Mark’s father to let him know about Mark’s death, but she couldn’t find him.”
“And did you call her back to tell her you’d located him?”
“I didn’t,” I said. “I was afraid that maybe he’d...moved on...or something.”
“You didn’t call the facility to ask if he was there.” It was a flat statement rather than a question. “I’ll speak with Janice and see what she knows.”
Once she’d left, I quickly went to the kitchen and took my chicken salad sandwich from the refrigerator. I hadn’t seen Max since the customer came in after I’d spoken with Ms. Tinsley. The customer had wanted “something similar” to the dress on the mannequin. I’d showed her some pattern books, and we’d spoken at length on how I might modify the design to better suit her. Then she’d left with the promise that she might be back.
Now I was struggling to get my bridesmaids’ muslins finished. My plan was to wolf down my sandwich and get back to work.
Really. That was the plan.
But then I heard Jason speak to Frank as was he was walking up the stairs, so I decided to give him a moment to get settled into his studio and then go invite him to dinner tomorrow evening. Since Max hadn’t been around for a while, I thought it was a great opportunity to speak with Jason alone.
All the way up the stairs, I looked over my shoulder. No sign of the sassy specter.
I stood in front of Jason’s door willing my heart to stop racing before I tapped. I knocked so lightly, I was afraid he hadn’t heard it. In fact, I’d decided that if he hadn’t heard it, I’d go back to Designs on You and forget the whole thing.
The door opened, and there he stood. I felt as if my heart was dropping to the floor.
“Hi.” He smiled. “This is a nice surprise.” He moved aside. “Come on in.”
I walked into the studio, and the first thing I saw was Max. She was sitting on a stool in front of a bucolic backdrop with her head thrown back and one leg extended into the air.
“Take my photograph!” she shouted.
Jason followed my gaze and must’ve noticed my expression of dismay. “Is something wrong?”
“I just...it looks as if you’re getting ready for a client. I don’t want to intrude on your preparations.”
“We’re good. That was for the client who was here before lunch.”
“Oh...” I let out a breath. “I—”
The camera clicked, and the flash sent a burst of light into the room.
I held up both hands. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t touch anything.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” Jason grinned. “That was strange, though, wasn’t it?” He went over to the camera and looked at the screen. “Check this out.”
I was afraid to look at what the camera had captured, but it would be weird if I feigned disinterest. I took a step closer to the camera and saw a photo of the serene backdrop with a blurry streak across the center.
“Rats! I moved!” Max huffed. “Let’s try another.”
“No,” I hissed.
Jason arched an eyebrow.
“No, way!” I said. “That really is odd. Do you think I bumped it...or?”
“You couldn’t have. You weren’t close enough.” He winked. “All these historic buildings have ghosts, you know.”
I forced out a laugh and turned to go, but then I mustered up my courage again. “Jason, I’m making lasagna for dinner tomorrow evening. Would you care to join me?”
“I’d like that very much.”
Max let out a squeal of delight. “This is fantastic! Still, I wish I could’ve gotten a do-over on my photograph. Work on making that happen, would you?”
I WAS SO FOCUSED ON the muslin I was cutting out that I started when Connie opened the door to the atelier.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t cause you to mess anything up, did I?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Good.” She came on inside and shut the door. “I spoke with Janice. Mark’s dad has Parkinson’s disease. After Mark’s stepmom died in a car accident last year, Walter couldn’t take care of himself and had to go into assisted living. The treatment and the facility costs quickly drained his bank accounts.”
“Oh, no.” I raised my hand to my lips.
“He couldn’t even sell the house because it had been in his wife’s name, and she left everything she had to her son Cole. Walter got nothing.”
“That’s why Mark couldn’t pay his rent here anymore,” I said. “Or the rent on his apartment. Everything he made was going to pay his father’s bills.”
“And it still wasn’t enough. The assisted living facility is kicking Walter out at the end of this month.”
“What’s he going to do?”
“Janice didn’t say,” Connie said. “It’s probable that she doesn’t know. But it’s a horrible situation.”
I wholeheartedly agreed with her there. After Connie left, I got my phone and made another call to Ms. Tinsley.
“Ms. Tinsley, I realize this isn’t my place, but I was able to track down Mark’s father.” I told her what I’d learned.
“Poor, poor Walter,” Ms. Tinsley said softly. “He doesn’t even know Mark is dead. I have to go and tell him. Thank you, dear.”
I hoped I’d sent her on a mission of mercy, not one that would merely lead to more pain for them both.
{ }
