No Place to Hide (7 page)

Marly, one of the regular servers, greeted her warmly and showed her through to the bar’s window table, where another server was already waiting to pour her a coffee.

“Let me guess,” Marly said with a twinkle, opening up her notepad, “a Lean Machine breakfast with extra fruit on the side.”

Justine smiled. “I’ll pass on the extra fruit this morning,” she replied. “Just the oatmeal pancake, blueberries, and banana.”

“Coming up,” Marly assured her, and with a playful little twirl she started toward the kitchens before being waylaid by more new arrivals, a couple of long-bearded men in overalls and wide-brimmed straw hats. Mennonite builders, Justine had been told a while ago, who apparently enjoyed more freedoms, such as breakfasting in a café, than their Amish compatriots.

Left alone, Justine flicked idly through the menu, feeling tempted, as she often was, by the savory omelettes and quesadillas. However, she was only too aware of how easy it would be to gain weight given the size of the portions. Not that Café Max overdid it especially, and she had to admit she’d seen very few obese people in Culver; she just didn’t want to get into a habit she might not be able to break.

As she set aside the menu she took out her phone to see if there were any more messages from Sallie Jo.

Nothing so far.

Since Rob had gone she’d started to worry about how dependent she was becoming on Sallie Jo. She’d even mentioned it a few evenings ago while she and her friend were drinking wine around the fire pit in Sallie Jo’s garden, over on Lakeview, while the girls played hospital in Hazel’s bedroom.

“It’s only natural to lean on someone when you’re new to a place,” Sallie Jo had reminded her, “and I promise I’m not having a problem with it. I enjoy your company, all the girls do, and I guess I’m just someone who likes to be helpful.”

“You’re definitely that,” Justine assured her wryly, while wondering how anyone could enjoy
her
company when she was such a withdrawn version of who she used to be. And it wasn’t as if Sallie Jo didn’t have plenty of friends, because she certainly did, most of them female—other business owners from around town, teachers at the high school and Academies, divorced or widowed women who lived beside or near the lake. She really didn’t have any shortage of company, nor was she ever anything other than generous when it came to including Justine.

Refilling their glasses, Sallie Jo had gone on to say, “I hope you don’t mind me bringing this up, but I kinda feel the need to apologize for what Hazel said to Lula about her daddy, back when Rob was here.”

Justine’s heart twisted.

“I know you probably think she was repeating something I said,” Sallie Jo pressed on, “but you have my word that she didn’t get it from me.”

“I didn’t think so…”

“I spoke to her after and she tells me she heard a couple of women talking in the Culver Coffee Company when she was there with a friend and her mother.”

Knowing it wasn’t only heat from the fire that was burning her face, Justine said, “I understand that people are curious, but I can assure you Lula does have a father who loves her very much and who misses her even more than she misses him.”

Putting down her glass, Sallie Jo said, “I can see this is painful for you, so why don’t we change the subject? I just wanted you to know that I have not been speculating about you with others.”

“I don’t blame them, they’re human.”

“Of course, and like most of the rest of the world, they want custody of the ins and outs of everyone’s story. They’re particularly intrigued to know why anyone would choose
Culver
to start a new life. It’s like they’re hoping you might know something they don’t, or maybe they think your choice somehow validates their own reasons for being here—you tell me what goes on in their heads. I just want you to be sure that I don’t believe everyone else’s business has to be mine, or that mine should belong to anyone apart from those I choose to share it with. We all have things we’d rather keep private, and it’s our right to do that. But just in case, you might like to know that I’m a very good listener, and anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m totally discreet.”

Though Justine didn’t doubt it for a moment, and though she would have loved, in those moments, to try purging herself of at least some of the terrible guilt and grief in her heart, she knew she never would. It would change everything between them; Sallie Jo simply wouldn’t be able to see her as the same person again, and she didn’t have the courage to jeopardize their friendship. It meant too much to her. As it was to escape her past that she’d come to Culver, admitting to it would be almost the same as bringing it with her.

It would get easier over time, she kept telling herself. As she made more inroads into building a new life for her and Lula, the past would be left behind, while Culver, and everything they were already coming to love about it, would become the focus of the future. She mustn’t forget that only eight weeks had passed since her arrival, which really wasn’t any time at all. And actually, she already accepted, on an intellectual level at least, that this was home now. In fact, even on a deeper, more spiritual level, she had to admit that there were moments, usually when she was at the lake, that she came close to feeling at peace, an accomplishment she hadn’t achieved anywhere in England since leaving Chippingly.

So perhaps she really did belong here with her fellow Americans and the ghost of a grandmother she barely remembered. A grandmother whose name had stirred up some sort of memory for the mechanic at Hammer’s, and for the woman who’d come calling from the Catholic church. And now she’d had her own strange encounter, just last evening, with Billy Jakes, whose trailer and barns were at the far side of the woods behind their house. Sallie Jo and others had already warned her that Billy wasn’t quite right in the head. Not that she had anything to fear from him, they’d assured her; it was simply that his claim of ownership to a dozen or more of the corn and soybean fields surrounding the town had him at constant odds with many of his neighbors, particularly the farmers.

“Your name Cantrell?” he’d shouted from his truck last night, startling Justine as she came out onto the porch to water the plants. He was at the gap in the hedge, staring fiercely in her direction. She wondered, with a stir of unease, how long he’d been there. Though he wasn’t an old man, exactly, probably fifty or so, the grayness of his lank, greasy hair and ragged beard made him seem vaguely decrepit and creepy.

“Yes, it is,” she’d called back, wondering if she should go over to him.

“Related to May Cantrell?”

“She was my grandmother. Did you know her?”

“No,” he replied shortly. Putting his foot on the gas, he’d promptly disappeared.

Recalling the encounter now, she made a mental note to share it with Sallie Jo when she arrived. Not that she expected Sallie Jo to have any idea what Billy Jakes might be keeping to himself; it was simply that the eccentricity of his behavior would probably amuse her the way it had Justine—after he’d gone.

Picking up her coffee, she sighed quietly to herself and gazed around the café’s wood-paneled walls, where every imaginable piece of Culver memorabilia was hanging. There was everything from class photos dating as far back as the fifties to vintage football jerseys from the high school and Academies, trophies from Culver’s many sporting victories dating back to the twenties, and even a horseshoe from Barack Obama’s presidential inauguration hanging over the fireplace. It almost did a better job than the local museum of evoking the town’s past, a fact Sallie Jo was extremely proud of, since her time elsewhere in the country hadn’t in any way altered the fact that she was a Culver girl at heart.

On way. Be there in 10,
Sallie Jo texted.

Since there was no such thing as heavy traffic in Culver unless getting caught behind a harvester on the country roads counted, Justine decided to use the time going through some of Sallie Jo’s property listings. She’d have to buy somewhere sooner or later, so it wouldn’t hurt to find out what sort of home she could afford.

As she brought the latest
Homes & Life Styles
magazine back to the table, she spotted David Clifton, the local newspaper editor, outside chatting with Toby Henshaw, the craggy-faced, football-crazy chief of the Culver Police Department.

Sallie Jo’s little fan club, she’d tease if Sallie Jo were there, since it was widely known that Toby with all his gruff manliness, and old-fashioned views on a woman’s place, had a soft spot for the glamorous café owner.

Were she in Sallie Jo’s shoes Justine knew that she too would be more attracted to David, not only because he was single—widowed, in fact—and without kids, but because with his messy dark hair, sleepy gray eyes and winning smile he was very like Matt. Which was the reason, she quickly reminded herself, that catching sight of him unexpectedly had caused her heart to flip.

On the other hand, being a Tommy Lee Jones lookalike with boyishly cute dimples, a police uniform, and an air of authority didn’t hurt Toby in any way. However, he was married with five kids, which had to remove him from any sane woman’s wish list.

Waving as David glanced her way, Justine felt pleased to realize he was indicating his intention to join her. Though she’d only met him a handful of times, and always with Sallie Jo, she was already starting to think of him as a friend.

“Getting the scoop for next week’s front page?” she ribbed as he came in and greeted her with one of his typically ironic smiles.

“Not next week’s,” he replied, setting his laptop and cellphone down on the table. “Toby was telling me about a training exercise he’s going to be involved in with the sheriff’s department at the end of next month. Thanks, Marly,” he added as she brought him a coffee. “He’s invited me to go along, which could be interesting.” He was checking an incoming text while taking a sip of coffee. “So what’s with the property mag?” he asked, putting his phone down again. “You starting to look?”

Glancing at it, Justine said, “Kind of. I guess before I do I ought to find myself a job. I don’t suppose you’ve any useful suggestions?”

He shrugged. “Depends what sort of thing you’re looking for.”

Skirting her real skills, she said, “My degrees are in business studies and drama, but they’re about twenty years out of date by now.”

His eyebrows rose. “Did you know the old movie theater uptown’s for sale? You must have spotted it, a couple of doors along from the Lakeside Grill. It can’t be more than a hundred-seater, so how about bringing it back to life?”

She laughed. “I’ve no doubt the reason it went out of business is because everyone watches movies on their computers and smart TVs these days.”

He didn’t deny it. “You could turn it into a regular theater.”

“You mean with plays and musicals? Would anyone go? Would anyone even want to act?”

“Believe me, Culver’s full of frustrated talent.”

She had to laugh. “Still no good if we can’t sell tickets, and actually I have zero experience as a producer.” Though this wasn’t strictly true, it kept her on safer ground than if she admitted to anything from her previous life.

“So have you had any ideas yourself?” he asked, checking his phone again.

“A few, but I’ve no idea how viable they are.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. I’ll let you know when I’ve given them more thought. Meantime, I’ve been considering trying to find out if my grandmother’s old cottage still exists.”

Clearly liking the sound of that, he said, “It could turn out to be Meredith Nicholson’s
House of a Thousand Candles.
”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Except you know it’s not, because you wrote a piece about that place and its impressively philanthropic owners only a couple of weeks ago.”

“I guess I did, but it would be kind of cool, wouldn’t it, if it turned out your grandma’s place had a similar sort of literary or musical or arty connection?”

“Sure it would, but if it did I think it would have come to light by now. To be honest, I’ll be surprised if it’s still standing.”

He grimaced and raised a hand as Sallie Jo came in and was immediately waylaid by Marly. “It would be a shame if it’s not,” he commented.

With a playful twinkle, Justine said, “Because it would deprive you of a great front-page story?”

“I can’t deny it, especially if you found a few skeletons.”

Needing no more of those, Justine was about to flip it away with a lighthearted riposte when Maddy Hawkins’s words suddenly came echoing down the years.
I told them it was a load of old nonsense about the place being cursed.

She tried to take a breath.

“Are you OK?” David asked worriedly.

Somehow extracting herself from the memory trap, she quickly smiled and said, “I don’t know about skeletons, but here’s something interesting for you.” Leaning in closer, she told him about the odd encounter she’d had with Billy Jakes the night before.

As they laughed Sallie Jo looked up curiously, and it seemed to Justine, when her friend joined them a few moments later, that she could be coming to some wrong conclusions about what she’d witnessed.

“What’s the joke?” she asked, her eyes moving cautiously between Justine and David.

She really does like him,
Justine was thinking as she allowed David to retell the story, and to her relief Sallie Jo seemed to find it as amusing as she’d hoped.

“I think trying to find the old cottage is a great idea,” Sallie Jo declared enthusiastically. “I can help you with that, if you’d like me to.”

“I’d love you to,” Justine assured her.

“OK. I mean, I guess you’re prepared for the fact that it was sold at some point and razed to make room for one of the luxury palaces?”

“Of course. In fact, it’s what I’m expecting, but it would be nice to find out
where
it was, exactly.”

“Sure. And I’ll speak to my folks about your grandma. It could be they remember her. Did she only ever come in summer?”

“At first, I think. I know Rob and I used to come then, but I have a feeling she might have moved here permanently after we left for London. Don’t ask me why I think that; I guess it must be something I heard someone say.”