Chapter Eight

On Thursday morning, Sienna woke early and baked more apple pies in Grace’s kitchen. She usually only baked her pies once or twice a month, but her grandmother had called on Tuesday and said that she’d given most of the last apple pie to her friends at the nursing home and she was dying for another. And Sienna knew that Jaydin needed one of her pies. He’d been through a lot of stress in only a few days, and the pie, she knew, would ease his nerves and help him sleep at night. She also wanted to bake one for Avenir. He hadn’t had one of her pies yet, and she thought it would be a nice gesture.

This time she added a few extra ingredients to the pies, too. For some reason, whenever she added these embellishments, the healing powers of the pies intensified. She cut the apples smaller and added a hint of lemon zest. Instead of flour as a thickener, she used a special brand of tapioca that she had to go all the way to Bangor to buy. They sold it at a small gourmet shop, where they also sold herbs and remedies for healing. The apples had to come from an orchard that was located twenty miles from town, and she had to sort through them to be sure they were all the exact same size. But the two things that made these pies have stronger healing powers than her regular pies, she thought, were butter and pastry.

The butter for the pastry and the pie filling had to be made by hand. Not with an electric blender or a food processor. She had to stir and whip fresh cream herself, thinking positive, healing thoughts with each turn of the wire whisk. And she had to add a pinch of sea salt and fold it in gently. Table salt wouldn’t do. There was something about the sea salt that created healing energy.

When the butter was churned, she chilled it for an hour. And when it was cold, she used her fingers to mix the flour and cold butter together until the mixture formed little rounds that resembled English peas. Then she stirred in ice-cold water until the dough formed. She did this all by hand and barely worked the dough. The more she worked it, the tougher it would become. And the tougher it became, the less healing power it had.

Then she filled each pie shell with a huge mound of sweet apple filling and topped the mounds with globs of fresh butter, and after that, she went to work on the top layer of crust. The way the pie looked had nothing to do with the healing powers it contained. But she figured that as long as she’d worked so hard on the ingredients, the outside should look fantastic, too. Sometimes she crimped the edges with her fingers, and sometimes she pressed them together with a three-pronged fork.

But on that Thursday, she decided to make the edges of the pies look like the jagged, pointy cliffs of the Maine coastline. So she cut the edges with scissors into perfect points that resembled arrowheads and folded every other one back. Then she brushed the pies with cold cream, secured the folded points to make sure they wouldn’t rise, and put them into the oven to bake. She never used an egg wash; it made the pies look store-bought and she wanted them to look homemade.

When the pies were cool enough to move, she placed them in a box and drove over to Jaydin’s. It was almost five o’clock in the afternoon and she had her first date with Avenir that night. They were stopping by the nursing home to see her grandmother, then going for lobster rolls afterward. She’d told Avenir to pick her up at Jaydin’s because she didn’t want any of the LaFramboises to know she was dating Avenir. It was none of their business, and she knew that Karla LaFramboise watched every move she made.

Jaydin’s truck was on the side of the building. She parked next to it and walked around to the front entrance, carrying one of the pies. The bar was practically empty at that hour. The only two people there were a couple of older regulars who liked a few beers before they went home for dinner. She walked past them and smiled. Jaydin was behind the bar unloading a small dishwasher he used just for martini glasses.

She placed the pie on the bar and said, “Hey. I called before and you didn’t answer.” She looked around and saw that everything looked cleaner and neater now. The floor had been mopped, the chairs were all lined at the bar evenly, and the top of the bar sparkled.

He said, “I was probably out back. I had to take out some trash.” His eyes were focused on what he was doing. He wanted all the glassed lined up in one long, perfect row.

“How are you?” This would be his first night sleeping alone there. He’d been sleeping at Sienna’s, on the floor, since Mickey’s death. The thought of him being alone now tugged her heart. She knew how much he hated to be alone. When he was a child he was always with her or Larson, and then he moved in with Mickey.

He shrugged. “I’m okay. I really am,” he said. “I’m looking forward to sleeping in my own bed.” His hands were steady and there was a calm smile on his face.

She squinted and leaned forward to hold his hand. His face looked thinner and his eyes seemed cloudy. “Are you sure?”

He smiled. “Yes, I’m sure.”

A lot had happened that week. There were two more strange deaths on Mt. Desert Island that resembled Mickey’s death. Both bodies had been completely drained of blood, with two small puncture marks in the wrists, and there were no signs of struggle or foul play. The police chief didn’t know what to make of these deaths and he wasn’t sure how to classify them. So he told Sienna and Jaydin that it was an ongoing investigation and he was still looking for more solid evidence. But the good thing was that Jaydin wasn’t a suspect anymore, at least not more than anyone else in town. He’d been with Sienna and Grace on the nights of the other deaths. And if they were murders, Kevin believed they were all connected.

Jaydin placed a martini glass on the counter and said, “I told them to cremate Mickey’s remains. I didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t have any family, so I guess I’m responsible.” He said this with a quiet, even voice. He could have been talking about the weather.

“What are you going to do with them?” Sienna asked. She wasn’t sure how to react. She was waiting for him to show some emotion.

“I’m not sure,” Jaydin said. “Probably scatter them over the sea. He liked the ocean.” Then he rubbed his jaw a few times and said. “But I’m not having a service or anything formal.”

She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “I thought you two were a couple,” she said, “Shouldn’t you do something?” Actually, Jaydin hadn’t shown any grief since Mickey’s death, and she wondered why.

He tossed a dish rag over his right shoulder and stared down at his shoes for a moment. When he looked up at her again, he took a deep breath and said, “Mickey and I weren’t a happy couple. I never told you half of what was happening between us. We barely even spoke to each other the last two years, and when we did it was because he was ordering me around or screaming at me for something. He used his fists more than once, too, especially when he was drunk. And he was drunk almost every night. It was just more out of control the last few months. He wouldn’t even allow me to work in the bar because he thought it looked bad to see an owner working.”

“But you were the one who actually got the loan to buy this place and open this bar,” she said. “It was because you had good credit that the bank was willing to lend you both the money. He didn’t have any credit at all. How could you let him treat you that way?” She’d known things weren’t perfect between Mickey and Jaydin, but she had no idea they’d been this bad. The thought of someone beating her brother caused her back teeth to clench.

“At first things weren’t that bad,” he said. “But after the first six months we were together, he started to change. I’m not going into the details. They are a little sordid. But all those times you saw me with bruises and black eyes were thanks to Mickey’s fists.” He took a breath and leaned in closer. “You know, everyone thinks gay men have all these options nowadays. Well, we don’t. Things are changing, but not all that fast. I met Mickey right after high school and I thought he was the man of my dreams. He was strong and knew how to take control. I wanted that, but I made a huge mistake, and then I didn’t know how to get out of it.”

“But you did have options,” Sienna said. She tightened her fists and pounded them on the counter. “You could have come to me. I would have helped you get out of this situation. Hell, I would have gone after him with a baseball bat if I’d known he was hitting you.”

He smiled. “But I didn’t think I had options. That’s the point. When you don’t realize you actually do have options in life, because you’ve been living without self- esteem for so long, you don’t realize there’s a way out. I didn’t think there was a way out with Mickey. He would have taken the bar and everything I have. And I didn’t want to bother you. You’re circumstances aren’t much better than mine.”

She frowned. Jaydin made a good point. She wasn’t being physically, verbally, or sexually abused by anyone, but she was still stuck in circumstances she knew she had the power to change. “At least we could have talked about it.”

He took a deep breath. “We are. We’re talking about it now. We’re talking about our options and how we can change our lives.” Then he took her hand and squeezed it tight. “Thanks for being here,” he said. “You’ve been great this past week, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

While she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, the front door opened and Avenir loped inside with a grin on his face. She turned and saw that he was wearing a white shirt and cream-colored slacks. And he was carrying a black leather sport jacket over his arm. Normally, he would have been wearing jeans and his short leather jacket on a Thursday night. She was glad she’d changed her clothes at Grace’s apartment. She was wearing a pale blue dress, fawn leather pumps, and a chocolate brown velvet jacket.

He looked her up and down and smiled. “You look great tonight,” he said. “You’re wearing your ankle bracelet.”

“Thanks,” she said. He always noticed the little things that most men would have ignored. She felt like pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Then he reached out to shake Jaydin’s hand and said, “How are you doing?”

Jaydin smiled. “I’m fine.”

Then three more customers walked into the bar and Sienna said, “I’ll call you tomorrow morning. I’m going to see our dear grandmother now, then we’re going out for lobster rolls. I’ll come back and get my car later. I parked next to the truck.”

Jaydin gave her a kiss on the cheek and said, “Tell old Gretchen I love her and that I’ll see her soon.”

Gretchen was waiting for them in the main living room of the nursing home. She was sitting at a small table near the baby grand piano working on a puzzle. Her long red hair looked fluffier, as if she’d just washed it, and she was wearing a pair of denim overalls. All the other older women wore housecoats and had short, tight perms with a blue rinse. But Gretchen looked as if she were about to go to a peace rally in Washington.

Sienna kissed her on the cheek and smiled. “You look so nice today,” she said, placing an apple pie on the table. Gretchen was also wearing her favorite turquoise jewelry. There was a silver ring on every finger, and a huge silver and turquoise necklace resting on her chest. She only wore this jewelry on special occasions. Actually, Sienna had never seen Gretchen look this well. Her face was glowing and her eyes were clear and bright.

“I look like an old woman who can’t let go of her past,” she joked. “But don’t you look nice.” She held Sienna’s hand and looked her up and down. Then she turned to Avenir and looked him up and down, too. She smiled and said, “But this handsome man looks even better.” Gretchen had always been fond of good-looking, refined men, and she wasn’t shy about letting them know it.

It wasn’t a long visit, because Gretchen didn’t want to be late for dinner. If her regular routine was disrupted in any way, she tended to get confused and drift away. They talked about Mickey’s death and how Jaydin was doing, and then they talked about the other mysterious deaths on Mt. Desert Island. Avenir remained quiet. He sat back in his chair with his arms folded and listened while they talked about dead bodies and drained blood. When Gretchen slapped her thigh and told Sienna that she’d seen the doctor earlier that day, Avenir laughed out loud. The doctor told her she was in perfect health and that she’d outlive everyone she knew.

A half hour later, an older woman carrying a large black purse walked up to Gretchen and said, “I’ll save you a place at the table, dear.” She smiled at Sienna and looked twice at Avenir. His legs were open wide and he was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Gretchen said. “I just want to say good-bye to my granddaughter and her friend first.”

When the old woman walked out of the room, Avenir cleared his throat and said, “May I ask you something?”

Gretchen placed her palm to her throat and said, “Of course.”

Sienna gave him a look. She had no idea what he was about to ask. But his expression was serious and his lips were pressed so tight they almost puckered.

“You said something about a hidden painting the last time we were here,” he said.

Gretchen smiled. “Yes. Sienna’s mother had a painting that no one’s ever been able to find, and from what she told me herself, there’s also a will hidden somewhere in the frame that entitles Sienna and Jaydin to their rightful inheritance. She told me she was going to hide them not long before she died.”

Sienna groaned. Sometimes she had the mind of a lawyer: she trusted facts and logic. “Avenir,” she said, “Why are you getting into this now? I don’t want to talk about it.” Sienna didn’t believe there was a hidden painting. She’d accepted the fact that Robert LaFramboise had cheated her out of her inheritance long ago, and there was no point in talking about it now. He faced Sienna and said, “I did some research the other night and I found that there is, indeed, a missing painting from the Bill Blye collection. I contacted a good friend in Paris who is one of the leading experts on postmodern artists of the twentieth century. They’ve been looking for this painting for years and it’s never turned up. It’s worth millions of dollars.”

Gretchen reached for his hand and squeezed it hard. “I’ve been trying to tell her this since I arrived in Glendale Harbor. The painting is worth millions, but the will that’s hidden with it is worth ten times more.” She looked into Sienna’s eyes and said, “You must look. The painting is somewhere on this island. And I don’t want to go to my grave knowing that Robert LaFramboise still has control of the Harrington fortune. I was a silly woman and I have many regrets. I’d like to make this one thing right for Sienna. I would have looked myself, but I had no clues and no one would have believed me anyway.”