Uncharted (9 page)

Cocoa Beach

Mark stopped by Ken Cobb’s office and moved to the Peg-Board where dozens of silver keys shone like ornaments. The key he wanted, however, wasn’t on the board.

The service department manager looked up from his computer. “Morning, Mr. Morris. Can I help you?”

In no mood for small talk, Mark propped a hand on his hip. “I need to drive to Boston. I was thinking of taking the gold Benz we took in last week.”

Ken smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “That car’s being detailed as we speak—it’s been sold.”

“I didn’t realize we had put it on the lot.”

“We didn’t, actually—I bought it myself.” Ken stood and slipped his hands into his pockets. “It’s a beauty. Exactly the kind of vehicle I’ve been looking for.”

Mark studied his manager. Cobb was a good guy, hardworking and diligent, a stable provider for his attractive wife and four boys. Maybe he deserved a gold Mercedes . . . but he couldn’t have it yet.

Mark crossed his arms. “Filled out the title transfer already?”

“Not exactly.”

“Has your check cleared?”

Ken’s smile frayed around the edges. “Is something wrong? I was planning to pay book value plus a 5 percent markup, same as we usually charge employees.”

Mark waved Cobb’s concerns away. “You can have the car, Ken, but first I want to take it to Boston. A friend of mine passed away, and I need a reliable vehicle for the trip.”

Cobb’s brow creased. “With the cost of gas being what it is, you could probably fly cheaper—”

“Don’t want to fly. I need some time to think. Time to remember my friend.”

Cobb swallowed hard and reached for the phone. “I’ll have the guys finish up and park it in your spot.”

“Have them drive it around front.” Mark gestured toward the hall, where he’d propped his hastily packed bag. “I want to get on the road.”

Cobb rang the service bay, and Mark stepped out of the office, content to know he’d arrive at the funeral in a car sure to impress his friends. A trickle of glowing Christmas cards had assured him that the others had achieved their goals, and he would not go to Boston looking like the kind of guy who sold used cars at abandoned gas stations.

No, sir. He’d pull out all the stops and dazzle every one of them.

Manhattan

Guilt jabbed at Karyn like a splinter, inflicting an unexpected and painful prick at every attempt to move through her normal routine. Memories of David’s e-mails, his consistent invitations, and his Boy Scout nature nipped at her guilty heart until she decided to drop everything and make arrangements to attend his funeral.

She swiped at her eyes with a fresh tissue, then picked up the phone again. She had already spoken with her director, her agent, and her dance instructor. Now she needed to find someone to take care of Sarah.

After considering a short list of former nannies and housekeepers, she called Molly Hood, a friend from the Actor’s Studio. They’d kept in touch over the years, and even though Molly was starring as Amanda in
The Glass Menagerie
, Karyn was reasonably sure the woman wouldn’t mind serving as a temporary mom.

Molly made sympathetic sounds as she listened to Karyn’s predicament. “Of course I’ll keep an eye on Sarah. I have Mondays off, you know. We could do some girl things, maybe take in a show.”

“She’d love anything you wanted to do after school. I’ll be back Monday night, but if you two are out on the town—”

“Tell the little darling to pack a bag. And what’s this about school?”

“Don’t you remember it? Teachers, apples, books?”

Molly laughed. “I didn’t pay that much attention.”

“Really, I only need someone to keep tabs on Sarah half a day. I’ll drop her at school on my way to the airport, so if you bring her back to our apartment after your night out—”

“I think it’ll be fun to play a real-life mom.” A smile warmed Molly’s voice. “Take some time, honey; stay in Boston a few days. You might get up there with your old friends and not want to rush off.”

Karyn stifled a laugh. If Kevin went to Boston, she might not want to stay through the funeral. “Thanks for the offer, but Tuesday is Sarah’s birthday. I can’t miss that. And I can’t afford to miss work, either—I have a big audition coming up.”

“Really! What’s the role?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“You minx. I
know
it’s a good part.”

“It is, but I don’t want to jinx it. So I’ll be back Monday night, I promise. And, Molly?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

Karyn was blowing her nose when Sarah came into the room. Her daughter’s cheerful expression tightened to a knot of apprehension when she saw Karyn’s red eyes. “Mom? Did something happen?”

Karyn tried to smile, but her mouth only wobbled awkwardly. “A man died, honey. One of my college friends.”

“One of the Borg?”

“I
hate
that word. I wish you wouldn’t use it.”

“It’s not bad—it just means you do everything together. From the way you talk, I thought that’s how it was with you guys.”

Karyn exhaled softly. “We were very close.”

Sarah sank onto the bed, then settled her chin on her hands. “Will Dad be at the funeral?”

Karyn glanced at the phone. Would he? Kevin said he had plans for this weekend, but plans could change when someone died. “I don’t know, honey.”

A crooked smile flitted across Sarah’s face. “Maybe I should go. I could meet all your friends.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Well—” Karyn wrapped her fingers around her tissue. Why didn’t she want Sarah in Boston? She’d love to introduce her daughter to the group, but a funeral hardly seemed the appropriate occasion for happy introductions.

“Because you don’t need to miss another day of school. I’m going to fly to Boston, go to the funeral, and come right back. In and out; you won’t even know I’ve been gone.”

Sarah flipped onto her back, then let her head fall over the edge of the bed. “It wouldn’t kill me to miss a couple of classes.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to go to school, either.” Karyn stopped to tweak her daughter’s nose, then moved to her bureau. “Why don’t you find me something to wear? I’ll need something black—a suit, if you can find one, or a dark blue dress. But not a cocktail dress, nothing low cut.”

“Don’t you want to impress the Borg?”

“I don’t want to look like a soap star.”

“Gotcha.”

Sarah rolled off the bed and moved to the walk-in closet, already absorbed in her task.

Free of her daughter’s sharp eyes, Karyn paused at the bureau and studied her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were glassy, the result of too many tears, and her once-smooth cheeks were now etched with fine lines. Theatrical cosmetics covered those signs of age when the cameras rolled, but she wouldn’t wear heavy makeup when she met her friends.

What would the others think when they saw her? More important, what would Kevin think? Ten years had passed since they’d parted, ten years of terse telephone tugs-of-war.

Perhaps, for a funeral, they could call a truce.

14

Seattle

Early Sunday morning, Lisa Melvin pointed to a printed list on the refrigerator door. “Here’s a list of all their medications. Everything should be obvious; just make sure you give them the morning doses around eight and the evening doses around nine. I know that’s not exactly twelve hours apart, but I’ve found they sleep better if you give that last dose a little later.”

The home health worker, a small, unsmiling woman with a tight white perm, nodded and slipped a hand into her pocket. The movement released the sweet smell of rose sachet. “And I’ll be sleeping—?”

“In my room.” Lisa gestured to the hallway. “Last door on the left. I’ve made space in the closet if you want to hang anything up. You’ll be close enough to hear if either of my parents calls out in the night. Mom has a tendency to get up and wander, so be sure to bolt the front and back doors of the house. She can’t manage the bolt with her fingers.”

The nurse pressed her thin lips together. “I can stay only until eleven on Tuesday morning, so if you’re delayed, you’ll have to call my office and arrange for another nurse.” The firmness in her voice verged on the threatening.

Lisa managed a smile. “I won’t be delayed. I’m flying all night to get back.” She paused as her gaze fell on the college yearbook she’d pulled from a box beneath her bed. “I wouldn’t be going anywhere if the man who died hadn’t been a dear friend.”

She glanced around the kitchen one final time, then walked into the living room, her boots thumping on the vinyl-covered floor. How long had it been since she’d worn high heels? Her calves would be cramping within the hour.

“Okay, Mom, Dad.” She bent to place a kiss on her mother’s soft cheek. “I have to leave for a couple of days, but Miss Harrison will stay here with you. She has my cell number if you need to reach me.”

Her father looked up and blinked, uncomprehending, but her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you going?” She clutched the lapel of Lisa’s coat. “Why are you leaving?”

Lisa’s hand closed around her mother’s. “I have to go to Boston. David Payne, do you remember me talking about him? He died. I have to go to the funeral.”

“Merva’s boy?”

“No, Mom, I don’t know any Merva.” Gently, Lisa broke her mother’s grip on her coat, then pulled those arthritic knuckles to her lips. “Be good, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

The nurse walked Lisa to the door. “In case of emergency, you want me to call your cell phone?”

“Call the hospital first,” Lisa said, her voice sharper than she’d intended. “Don’t call me unless it’s an extreme emergency. I don’t want to be interrupted for anything that’s not crucial.”

She looked out the screen door. The taxi waited at the curb; everything had been arranged. She waved at her parents one last time, then picked up her overnight bag and stepped into the early morning sunshine.

For some people, you moved heaven and earth. Because they were part of your history, they would always be part of your present.

The cabbie opened the trunk as she walked up, but Lisa shook her head and opened the rear door. “No need. I’m traveling light.