Traces (17 page)

“I can see that. Mine would be a blend of classical and new age with highlights of children’s and R&B.” She smiled, imagining the playlist she’d create for her iPod. “This is kinda fun, isn’t it?”

“What about your sexy lawyer? What would his look like?”

Meredith tossed her head and laughed. “He’s not ‘my’ lawyer, and more importantly, why would I care about his soundtrack?”

“Aren’t you curious? He’s such a hunk. I’m surprised you haven’t snapped him up.”

“Not interested.” Meredith gripped her knee with one hand, balancing the foot of her wineglass on her other leg. Not much, anyway.

“Can I have him?” Paulette cut her a glance, her smile mischievous.

“Fine by me.” The image of Max’s laughing eyes played in her mind. “But you’ll have to clear it with him.”

Paulette chuckled. “Well, I’m not really interested in him, either. He’ll have to figure it out for himself.”

Meredith tapped glasses with Paulette. “To Max.”

“And Grandma.”

“Yes, indeed.” Meredith drained her glass and then refilled it before hovering the bottle over Paulette’s. “More?”

Paulette nodded, and Meredith poured. “Thanks.”

Meredith considered her sister’s pensive expression as she sank back against the chair. She wriggled into a more comfortable position. Took a sip. “So, since Johnny is out of the picture, what are your plans?”

“As in, how long am I staying?” Paulette stared at the liquid in her glass as it reflected the lights above. She shrugged. “As long as you’ll let me, I guess.”

Meredith worked her lower lip with her teeth, tasting the subtle fruity hints of the merlot. She wanted to be alone so she could enact her plan without interference. Yet Paulette displayed a vulnerability Meredith had never seen before. Curious. Was it the result of Johnny’s uncaring dismissal of their relationship?

“I make no promises as to how long I’ll be here myself.” Meredith swirled the fluid in her glass. The shorter the span of time, the better. She and Paulette shared a history fraught with bickering and arguing. They claimed to be adults, so perhaps they could manage to survive in the same house for a few weeks. “But I suppose it’s only right for you to stay with me for as long as I do.”

“Thanks, sis.” Paulette glanced at Meredith, a smile flitting across her lips. “I have nowhere else to go. Soon I’ll have to find a job, but for now…thanks.”

The crickets suddenly stopped their singing, and Meredith could swear she heard blues floating on the spring breeze. Impossible, of course. But then so was smelling honeysuckle this time of year. “I want us to try to be friends again. I know it won’t be easy, and we’re as likely to resort to fisticuffs as hug. But, well…what do you say?”

“Sharing secrets and fixing your hair? That kind of friend?”

Meredith nodded. “Yes. So do you know any?”

“Hairstyles?” Paulette’s voice squeaked out her question.

Meredith started, surprised at the hint of alarm in her sister’s eyes. “No, secrets.”

Paulette swallowed and nodded. “Actually I do. But you have to swear to keep it to yourself. I haven’t told anyone because I haven’t decided what I’ll do.”

Meredith leaned forward, the stem of her wineglass gripped lightly between her hands. She had suspected Paulette hid something. Now she’d finally learn what. “I swear. Spill.”

Paulette set her glass down on the table. She linked her fingers together over her stomach. Reclined against the white Adirondack chair, her skin glowed in the soft light. She turned to look at Meredith. “There’s no easy way to say this. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh.” What could she say? Paulette hadn’t married Johnny, only lived with him for the past four years.

“Exactly. Now I have to decide what to do with it.” Paulette shot upright, shaking her head and frowning at Meredith. “No, I can’t refer to this child as a thing, an ‘it.’ He or she was conceived out of love, even if that love has flown to Alaska.”

“Will you keep the babe or put it up for adoption?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.”

Her sister had come to Twin Oaks, the family home, because she needed family to help her through this new challenge in her life. Meredith gazed at her, imagining how she’d feel if in her shoes. The need for loving support, not recriminations, would be first and foremost on her list. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be here to support your choice. I’m glad you’re not considering an abortion.”

“For me, that’s not a choice.”

“Your fall earlier. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I expect so.” She rubbed her hands over her flat stomach. “Everything seems fine.”

Meredith rose and went to her sister, pulling her to her feet. “I’m here for you.” She gave her a long hug, feeling her sister’s deep breaths within the embrace.

“Thanks, little sis.” Paulette was the first to flop back in her chair. “Just, please, don’t tell Mom and Dad. They’d freak.”

“Double-dog swear. They’re far away, at any rate. You don’t have to let them know anything until you decide which direction to take.”

Paulette smoothed a hand over her abdomen. “I’m only eight weeks, so nobody can tell by looking at me. I have some time to decide how to proceed. Now it’s your turn.”

“For what?” Meredith asked, puzzled.

“A secret. Surely you have one?”

Only one, which she’d never shared with anyone. Meredith looked at Paulette’s expectant gaze and sighed. “I do. I’ve never told a soul.”

Paulette’s gaze intensified, eyes glinting in the fairy lights. “That’s the best kind. Spill.”

“I was pregnant when Willy died. The same man who killed him also killed our baby. Willy never even knew he was going to be a dad.” The words rushed from Meredith’s mouth.

“Oh my God, Meredith.” Paulette gripped her hands together as her eyes flew wide open. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t know.”

Meredith shrugged. “Nobody knew.” She drew a deep breath and let it ease from her chest. “Now it’s no longer a secret, which feels good.”

Paulette reached to squeeze Meredith’s hand. “Thanks for trusting me again.”

Meredith sank back on her chair and picked up her glass. “Should you have had wine tonight, knowing you’re with child?”

“Recent studies have shown a glass now and then won’t hurt.” Paulette fingered her glass but left it on the table. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“You can help me try to unravel the mystery of Grace’s disappearance. You said you know something about the online genealogy site, right?”

“A bit.”

“Tomorrow you can start searching for whatever you can find. I’ll keep reading the journals and letters for clues.”

Paulette lifted her glass and leaned toward Meredith. “To family.”

“And to uncovering the truth.” Meredith clinked glasses, the ring of crystal punctuating the cricket symphony.

“Truth about?” Paulette asked.

“What really happened to our great-great-great-aunt.”

* * * *

A sliver of moon appeared through the sliding glass doors leading onto Max’s tiny balcony. Streetlights added their luminescence to the night sky. He sat in his leather recliner, a legal brief spread across his lap. The lamp on the end table to his right cast light across the ignored pages. Distracted, he gazed out the doors to where a small plastic table and single chair occupied the balcony’s square inches.

The pages in his lap contained important details about the limitations he had to work within for a new trust he needed to complete. He picked up the next page. Stared at the sentences. Yet his brain refused to absorb the words. Meredith’s face floated in his mind, obliterating the letters and their meaning. Her voice echoed in his ears, tantalizing and seductive. Despite her desire to raze Twin Oaks, she drew him in a way no other woman had ever before. He reread the sentence, but nothing stuck. Screw it. He flung the pages aside and stalked to the kitchen.

He poured a glass of Macallan scotch and adjourned to the fresh air outside. Standing at the railing, he surveyed the established neighborhood lying quiet so late in the evening. Maple trees stood outlined by the streetlights, sporting new leaves on their skeletal limbs. Few cars drove past on the street below as he grasped the metal rail with one hand and sipped his drink. Fantasizing about that woman had to stop or he’d never be promoted to senior partner. The promotion would enable him to afford a historic home of his own. Her intent to destroy the very thing he longed to possess rankled deep in his chest, at odds with the desire spearing through him when he thought of her voice, her long legs, her strawberry-blonde hair he’d love to plunge his hands into. And her eyes. My God, they mesmerized him. She’d turned his world upside down the moment she’d stepped into his truck. Her mysterious ways coupled with her beauty and intelligence made her a dynamite package. One that may well blow up in his face.

The ringing of the phone drew him back into the apartment. He stared at the caller ID for two rings before answering.

“Hi, Rhonda. What’s up?”

“Hey, handsome. I was sitting here, all alone, thinking about you. How about I come over for a nightcap?”

Her feline purr slid through the phone, curling into a lump in his stomach. Rhonda Sommers had been a mistake from their blind date, arranged by Sue, three months before. He should never have trusted his secretary to set him up, but he’d been feeling low and in need of some female company. When they’d met for drinks at the Hideaway, with her white-blonde hair, red-painted talons, and low-cut blouse leaving little to his imagination, he could tell she was not his type. What had Sue been thinking, fixing him up with the likes of her?

“Sorry, but I’m working tonight.” Or at least trying to. He swirled the dark amber liquid in his glass, watching the play of light as it shone through the scotch.

“It’s so late. I’d have thought you’d be relaxing by now.” Her voice hardened a degree.

She obviously suspected his disinterest. Maybe at one point in his life he’d have found her offers intriguing, even welcome. But not now. Not after Meredith had entered his life. “Listen, I appreciate your call. But I have to go.”

“A rain check?” A wisp of hope laced her question.

“Rhonda…” He hesitated. How did he let her down easy?

“I get it. Fine. Have a nice life.” The line went dead.

He stared at the silent phone for a long moment and then hung it up. Any other man would adore the buxom blonde he’d so easily brushed off. He envisioned Meredith’s entrancing eyes laughing at him. He could envision her swinging a sledgehammer to knock down the walls of the old plantation, or worse, lighting the fuse to blow it up. He cringed at the image. Twin Oaks had been his favorite place, and he’d find any excuse to visit Mrs. O’Connell so he could soak up the historical atmosphere. He swigged a mouthful of scotch and let it burn down his throat, eating away the bad taste the images in his head evoked.

Figures. He finally found the woman of his dreams, and she’d turned out to be his worst nightmare.

Roseville’s streets thronged with cars and pedestrians. Meredith shut the car door and then waited for Paulette to emerge from the passenger side. The cozy town surrounded her like a warm blanket.

They crossed the square, heading for Golden Owl Books and Brews. The bookstore had occupied the 1870-era brick building as long as Meredith could remember. The three sisters who ran the thriving business had diversified over the years, adding in a variety of attractions and merchandise to keep the townsfolk flocking through the doors. Flyers on the windows announced open mic nights featuring local artists to share their talents. A yellow kiosk in one corner enabled people to buy and download eBooks from a variety of publishers.

“What are you looking for again?” Meredith asked. “I thought we had enough books at home.”

“A book on the county history, one published fairly recently, might provide some new clues.” Paulette tucked her clutch purse under her arm. “Grandma’s are so old they’re practically worthless.”

“I’m sure they have some useful history in them,” Meredith said, pushing open the door. A bell jangled above her head. “But a newer one may be worth the investment. New facts may have come to light, with any luck.”

“Hmmm, it always smells so wonderful in here.” Paulette paused inside the door and scanned the crowded bookshop.

“It’s the bakery. All the cinnamon and cloves and apples.” Meredith drew in a deep breath, savoring the aromas of fresh bread and spices. “What a brilliant idea these ladies had to include fresh cinnamon rolls.”

“I’ll be in the local history section.” Paulette pointed to the sign indicating the area and strode toward the back of the store.

Meredith considered her next move as she surveyed the bookstore. She wanted to discover what kinds of books existed that could shed light on the census and how to interpret them. But first, she needed to stand there and merely experience the atmosphere. She inhaled, cataloging the mingling scents, detecting paper and ink as backdrop to hot coffee and cinnamon. In one corner, a small stage waited for the next open mic participant. The sisters opened the Golden Owl two nights a week to let people read from their writing or perform a musical number. Those evenings only, they also featured a wine-and-cheese party as extra incentive for the locals to attend. The bell over the front door rang every few moments, announcing customers coming and going.

Tables sat scattered throughout the shop, laden with books or calendars and other related products. Handmade jewelry crafted by local artisans hung on tall stands dotting the floor space. An open balcony featuring tables and comfortable chairs ran around the upstairs walls, leaving an open air feel in the center. A rack of greeting cards, advertised as designed by locals, hugged the wall under the stairs, a postage stamp kiosk beside it. Beyond, a small table and chair waited for the correspondent to fill out the card, put a stamp on it, and then slip it into the mailbox outside the front door of the shop.

The bell jangled, and Meredith ducked her head when Sue sauntered in. She didn’t need to run into Max’s legal secretary, knowing whatever Meredith did and said would be shared with the man himself before she’d even pulled into her own driveway. In fact, the fewer people she ran into, the better. Meredith made her way to the stairs and quickly climbed to the second story where the other nonfiction reference books resided.