Chapter 35
Dear Sophie,
I’m buying my first board, but I’m so confused. What size should it be? My cutting boards aren’t very pretty and they’re way too small.
Ready to Buy in Board Tree, Kentucky
Dear Ready to Buy,
Twenty inches to twenty-four inches in diameter is a good starter size. It’s tempting to go bigger, but don’t forget that you’ll probably have to carry it somewhere when it’s full of food. If you prefer something rectangular, twenty-four inches is a good starter length with a width of twelve to sixteen inches.
Sophie
Maybe I wasn’t crazy after all. I slowed to a crawl and stopped Daisy behind a large tree on the opposite site of the street.
Tripp rapped on Audrey’s door. She opened it and, thank heaven, was focused on the bird. I didn’t think she noticed us at all.
Audrey took the cage from Tripp, and then he turned around and glanced up and down the street before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
It sent shivers up my spine. Who did that? Who was he looking for? Had he stolen the bird?
The door closed.
I was fairly certain that they would be fussing about the bird and not looking out the windows, but to be on the safe side, Daisy and I did an about-face and went back to the end of the block so they wouldn’t notice us walking by.
As expected, Chatsworth Antiques was a quiet oasis in the morning rush that had begun. Still, we had plenty of time before anyone arrived to work. I filled a bowl of water for Daisy and opened the bookshelves that led to Orson’s secret room. I gazed at the pictures of the five women.
My first instinct was to remove Cheryl, Doreen, and Joan. We knew something about their fathers, and unless they had lied, it didn’t seem likely that Orson was their biological father.
That left Bonnie Shergold and Riley Hooper. There were two other possibilities. I searched the desk for a sheet of paper and cut it to the size of the photos, then pinned it on the board to represent the first possibility—that Orson’s other daughter was dead or alive but wasn’t one of these women. If that was the case, then the only hope Stella had to find her was DNA registries. That would be up to her. Stella might not want to know. Everyone was different.
The second possibility, which in my opinion was far the worst, was that I was wrong, and that my first instinct had been correct. That these women represented something that he found attractive. They were all lovely and I simply could not accept that Orson had been such a doting father to Stella while having some kind of private perversion.
His words echoed in my head. “Tell Stella . . . Tell Stella . . .” There were a thousand things he could have been trying to say. Tell Stella I love her. Tell Stella she has a sister. Tell Stella to beware of Jordan. Tell Stella to take care of Rosebud. Tell Stella to look behind the picture of her in my bedroom. Tell Stella the painting of a cow in the antiques store is worth millions.
I walked out of the secret room and looked at the paintings. I still hadn’t brought anyone in to look at them and give me an assessment of their values. I returned to the public office. He probably kept a ledger of some sort with the prices of everything. His accountant would need to know how much he paid for them.
Checking the time, I closed the secret room, put away Daisy’s water bowl, and locked up the store. We strolled toward the hardware store where I looked at their display of trowels.
“Hi, Ed,” I said to the man restocking shelves. “I don’t see the cast aluminum trowels.”
“That’s because we can’t keep them in stock. They’re a hot item! Should I put you on the waiting list? I can give you a call when they come in.”
“Yes, please.”
“Do you want the set of three? That’s a cultivator, a digging trowel, and a scoop trowel. You can order them separately, but that ends up being more expensive. We just ordered a digging trowel for Tripp Fogarty and he’s paying a lot more for just the one item, so I recommend buying all three at once.”
“The whole set, please. I didn’t know Tripp was into gardening.”
Ed looked up at me. “Me either. I think Joan was the one who liked to garden. She painted those beautiful vines on our display right there. Of course, now that she’s gone, we appreciate it even more. Such a sad thing. Tripp is just devastated.”
“Devastated? I mean it’s very sad, but—”
Ed grinned at me. “Oh, the things that do go on in this town. I guess when you work together, romance can bloom.” He looked over at his coworker Garrett, who was snapping gum and scratching his overall-clad belly. “Now, maybe if I worked with Bonnie Shergold . . .”
I smiled at him. “You really think Tripp and Joan were a couple?”
“Think? I know! I saw them smooching with my own two eyes. Not that it’s any of my business, but it’s not like I was peeping in their windows. I figure if people are silly enough to kiss behind the stores where I park, then they should expect to be seen. Right?”
A customer lined up behind me.
“I’ll call you when they come in.”
“Thanks, Ed.” I got out of the way fast, thinking about Tripp and Joan as I left the store.
“Good morning, Sophie!” Bonnie Shergold said.
She was putting up a sandwich board outside with a photograph of Colin Warren’s new event room on it.
“Hi, Bonnie.”
“And my favorite dog!” She mock-whispered to Daisy, “Let’s not tell the other dogs. Okay? They might get jealous.”
“Bonnie, did you ever hear anything about Tripp and Joan being involved?”
“Romantically? Good grief, no. Joan”—Bonnie sighed—“well, she’s gone now, so I guess there’s no harm in telling you that she was crazy for Jordan. I told her not to date a man whose divorce wasn’t final yet, but she just laughed at me. I’m sorry to say that didn’t endear her to me. Stella is my friend, and I just couldn’t imagine dating her husband, even if they were separated. Jordan isn’t my type, but if he were, I would never have done that to Stella.”
I understood completely. I wouldn’t have done it, either.
“Come on in. I have dog cookies!” Bonnie sang.
Daisy’s ears perked at the magic word, and she followed Bonnie.
A woman stood behind the counter, arranging flowers in a huge vase.
“Sophie, this is my mom, Sharon.”
We exchanged greetings.
“I see you’re helping advertise Colin’s new event space,” I said.
“It’s amazing. Have you seen it yet? Oh, that’s right. You put Colin in touch with Natasha. He was so grateful.” She handed Daisy a dog cookie. “We’re hoping to make it a one-stop deal for weddings and celebrations. Colin can host the event and I can do the flowers. It will be a family affair.”
“Family?”
“Colin is my uncle. My mother’s brother. Can you imagine? There were four rowdy brothers and only one girl.”
Sharon laughed. “It was a crazy, noisy household. But as the only girl, I had princess status. They knew better than to mess with me!”
“So, then your father was a Shergold.”
“My adoptive father was a Shergold and I took his name,” said Bonnie.
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I tried to remain calm. “I didn’t know that you were adopted.”
“It’s a complicated story and sort of romantic.”
“Oh, Bonnie,” said her mother.
“Mom! It’s not as socially unacceptable as it was back then.”
A blush rose on Sharon’s neck.
“My mom fell for this very handsome young man from France. He was a musician and a singer for a rock and roll group. He had an enticing French accent and everything. Isn’t that cool?”
Sharon rolled her eyes.
“But it turned out that he was married.”
“Which he had not told me,” Sharon protested.
“And then he went back home to France. Pierre Martin,” Bonnie said in a mock French accent. “Anyway”—she held up her palms—“ta da! Here came Bonnie! When I was five, Mom married Eddie Shergold, who adopted me, and I took his name.”
“Did you ever meet Pierre?”
“No. I’ve looked for him online. I found an obituary notice that sounds like it was probably him. He’s been dead for years now, but that’s all right. Eddie has been a wonderful dad to me.”
Sharon smiled at her daughter. “He really has.”
“He’s over at the event space helping get it ready for the grand opening tomorrow. I hope you’ll come! You can meet the whole family,” said Bonnie.
“I already met your Uncle Terry. I guess he’s your uncle, Bonnie. Probably one of your brothers, Sharon?”
Sharon nodded. “The whole crew will be here. It’s their dream come true. They always wanted to own an event hall, but money was tight, and loans weren’t easy to get when you came from a big, poor family. We’re very proud of Colin.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
I walked home thinking there was only one possibility left now—Riley Hooper. Besides the chestnut hair and blue eyes, every single one of the women on Orson’s board had lost her father at a young age. Orson must have known that. I was more convinced than ever that he was looking for his other daughter, Callie. Maybe he had given her up for adoption because he couldn’t handle an infant. Whatever the reason, he thought she was alive and he was looking for her.
I tried to put the women out of my mind for the time being so I could focus on BabyFest, my next convention. It would be starting in nine days, and I had plenty of work to do to make sure it came off without a hitch. Stella was my biggest concern. The cocktail reception on Sunday afternoon, when everyone would be arriving and checking into the host hotel, was a very big order. I had hired her to make baby gender reveal boards as examples of what could be done. I didn’t know if she was up to it, with Orson’s death, moving, and the stress of being on the police radar.
If I phoned her, she would tell me she was on track. I thought I might pay her a visit instead. There were a lot of different components to BabyFest and I didn’t want any of them to fall through. The boards were a big order for one person to handle.
I took a walk over to Stella’s new house. When I banged the door knocker, Myra answered.
“Good grief. Not you again. Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?”
“I’m sorry, Myra. I never saw all this coming.”
“If you had just left everything alone.”
“Who is it, Mom?” called Stella.
“It’s Sophie.”
“Send her back here.”
Myra grudgingly allowed me to enter the house. “She’s in the kitchen.”
I found Stella putting together butter boards. “Hi,” she said wearily.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
She sighed. “Nothing will ever be the same. Wolf and Mom showed me the pictures of my birth mother and baby sister. It’s inconceivable to me that Dad would have murdered my mom and my sister. Why not me? Why let me live?”
“I don’t think he killed them.”
She turned weary eyes toward me. “But that’s what the cops think.”
“I know. I think your sister might be alive.”
Myra magically appeared in the doorway. “Don’t do that to her. Don’t raise false hopes. Stella has been through enough.”
But Stella didn’t take her eyes off me. “Really?”
I had no hope to give her. “I have trouble imagining that your father was that evil. He told you,” I said, gesturing at Myra, “that someone else killed his wife. Someone he was afraid would come back and kill Stella and him, too.”
Myra nodded. “Someone with brothers. I remember that part. Like if one was dead, the other would come after him. But people lie, Sophie. That could have just been a cover.”
“You must have believed him, or you would have left him.”
“You see?” said Stella. “These are the thoughts running through my head. Between settling in, and Jordan in the hospital, and the divorce and custody problems, not to mention work, I feel like a zombie. Like this isn’t my life anymore.”
“That’s actually why I came over here. BabyFest will be starting a week from tomorrow. Are you up to providing all those boards? It’s a big order.”
“Yes. Oh my gosh. Yes, I can do it. Mom will help me. Right, Mom?”
If you asked me, Mom didn’t look at all enthused about it. But she said, “I’m here for you, Stella. Whatever you need.”
Stella rose from her chair and hugged her mom. “I don’t know where I would be without you.”
“How’s Jordan?”
“It’s touch and go. He’s under heavy sedation.”
“If you see him, give him my best.”
Stella nodded. I said good-bye and let myself out.