Entertaining Angels (26 page)

“Yes, that one.”

Gram didn’t ask for much. At one time, Kristy had tried to bring in some of her belongings, hoping to make the downstairs room feel like the one she’d once shared with her late husband. But Gram had always insisted she’d be moving back upstairs soon, that she’d get well with time.

But she never did.

“I’d be happy to get it for you,” Kristy said. “And I’ll bring
you a picture or two, also. Something to make you feel more at home.”

Moments later, after a search of her grandfather’s room for the antique clock, Kristy came up empty-handed. She could have sworn it had been on the nightstand the last time she’d dusted the furniture.

Had she set it aside and forgotten to replace it?

Rather than return without anything at all, she snatched a 5 by 7 brass-framed photograph of her grandfather from the dresser and carried it downstairs.

“I couldn’t find the clock,” she said.

Gram wrinkled her brow. “It wasn’t in the bedroom?”

“That’s where I last saw it, but it’s not there now.”

Gram blew out a wispy little sigh. “I’d be heartsick if something happened to it.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn up. In the meantime, I thought you might like to have this close by.” Kristy handed her grandmother the photograph.

“You know what?” Gram held the retro-style frame with both hands as she looked it over carefully. “This may sound crazy, but Jason really favors my husband.”

Kristy supposed there was a slight resemblance, even though Gram and her husband had adopted Kristy’s mom. She didn’t dare comment, though. Her mother’s teenage years hadn’t been pleasant, and Gram didn’t need the reminder.

Sadly, Kristy’s first three years of high school hadn’t been much better, and the apology she and Craig had talked about earlier seemed fitting. “I haven’t mentioned this in a long time, but I feel like I need to say it again. I’m really sorry for sneaking out that night and going to that party at Brad’s. You shouldn’t have been home alone, and I’ll never forgive myself for being gone when you needed me.”

“You had no way of knowing I was going to have a stroke.”

“That’s true, but my mother used to give you fits, and I was aware of that.” Kristy reached through the side rails and
placed her hand over the top of Gram’s. “I should have been more appreciative and more considerate.”

Gram rolled her hand palm up and wrapped her spindly fingers around Kristy’s. “You’ve certainly made up for a little teenage rebellion.”

Kristy thought on that for a moment, savoring the pardon Gram was granting her.

“I guess life threw us both an unexpected curve,” she finally said.

“Yes, it did. But we have Jason. Don’t forget about that.”

“I won’t.” Kristy was glad Gram had never held her unwed pregnancy against her. Maybe that was because Gram had tried so hard to have a child of her own when she was younger.

Kristy probably should have let it go at that, taking the forgiveness she’d been offered and running with it, but while they were having a talk from the heart, she couldn’t help adding, “When I realized I was pregnant, I was pedaling as fast as I could, trying to stay afloat mentally, emotionally, and financially. I’m ashamed to admit this now, but I seriously considered having an abortion. And I would have, if Shana hadn’t talked me out of it.”

“I’m glad Shana was there for you. And that she was so stubborn. I can’t imagine not having Jason. He’s been the only bright spot of my life these past few years.”

Kristy couldn’t imagine not having him, either.

Gram gave Kristy’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I had no idea how much you had to struggle with back then.”

“You were too ill to worry about anything but getting better.”

“Maybe so,” Gram said, “but you shouldn’t have had to go through something like that alone. I should have been there for you, but I was so … self-absorbed that I failed you, just like I failed your mother.”

“That’s not true. You’re the best grandmother I could have hoped to have. And you were good to my mom, too.”

“I tried, but she was never happy with me.”

“She loved you,” Kristy said. “One day, when she was clearheaded, she talked to me about … things—her life, the past. She told me that she was sorry that she gave you so much trouble. But I’m afraid her drug addiction was stronger than she was.”

Gram’s eyes glistened, and a smile softened the lines in her face. “When the state took you away from your mom and placed you with me, I was given a second chance to be a mother. And to be honest, there were times when I was afraid I’d botched it all up again. But you’ve turned into a lovely young woman, Kristy. I couldn’t ask for a better granddaughter. Nor could Jason ask for a better mom.”

They sat like that for a while, silent yet bolstered by the connection that held them closer and tighter than their two clasped hands.

In spite of the chill in the room, a warmth and a sense of peace filled Kristy’s heart, leaving no place for guilt to regain its hold.

When the doorbell rang, Kristy slowly released her grandmother and stood. “I hope that’s the guy who’s coming to fix the furnace. I need to let him in.”

As Kristy reached the doorway, Gram called her back. “Honey?”

“Yes?”

“Will you keep looking for that clock?”

“Of course.” Then she went to answer the door.

Forty-five minutes later, the heater roared on. But Kristy still received the news she’d been dreading.

“I’ve got it jury-rigged for this evening,” the repairman said. “But it’ll go out again. And next time I won’t be able to fix it. We’ve got a discontinued model back at the shop, so I can give you a deal on it.”

A deal would be great, but still costly. She’d have to use the money she’d found in her grandfather’s jacket.

After walking the repairman to the door and agreeing on a time for him to return and install the new furnace on Monday,
she went to her room to get ready for work. Hopefully, Renee would arrive early again so Kristy would have time to stop at the bank on her way to the pub. She needed to deposit the funds into her account to cover the check she would write Monday.

She opened the drawer in her nightstand to get the money, only to find the music box in which she’d placed it gone.

A knot gripped her stomach. Where could it be? Who could have …?

Renee?

It had to have been her. Who else could have taken it? Certainly not Jesse. After he’d stayed in her grandfather’s room and had left without her knowledge, she’d checked the drawer for the money. And it had been a relief to find it right where she’d left it.

So the only one who could have possibly taken it was the sitter who’d had the run of the house for the past few days.

Had Renee taken Gram’s antique clock, too?

Kristy didn’t want to believe it. She’d come to like the girl. And so had Gram and Jason.

Heartsick, she began a careful inventory to see what else Renee might have taken.

She was going to have to confront the girl about the missing cash when she arrived. Hopefully, she would return the money, the music box, and the clock. If she refused, Kristy would have to call the police and make a report.

Then she’d have to tell her boss she wouldn’t be coming in to work this evening after all.

No way could she leave Gram and Jason alone.

And no way could she let a thief back into the house.

Shana stood near her closet, dressed in a pair of jeans and a white blouse. She removed a black sweater from its hanger, slipped her arms into the sleeves, then pulled it over her head, mussing her hair.

She glanced at her image in the mirrored wardrobe doors, noting a ghostlike pallor and dark circles under her eyes. The lack of sleep, she realized, was beginning to wear on her.

Ever since running into Ramon at the park, the memories she’d tried so hard to put behind her had come rushing back. And as a result, she’d spent her nights tossing and turning until the blankets had tangled at her feet.

There wasn’t much she could do about that, though.

Ramon hadn’t given her any reason to believe that they could ever resurrect what they’d once had. And why would he? When she’d ended things between them years ago, he’d merely shrugged and let her go. Obviously, the relationship had never meant the same to him as it had to her.

But thoughts of Ramon and what might have been weren’t the only things that had disturbed her sleep.

Oddly enough, the ramblings of a homeless man had also caused some of her nocturnal distress. There’d been a whisper of truth in the statements he’d made, a whisper that had increased a couple of decibels while the house was quiet.

You’re doomed to make the same mistakes that your parents made if you don’t make some changes.

Now that was a scary prediction.

She raked a hand through her hair, the diamond on her finger snagging on a snarl and twisting to the left. She righted the ring, thinking it was too big and bulky for her small hand.

A lot of things no longer seemed to fit. Her college degree. Her future. Her life.

In the hours before dawn, when the house was quiet and her body refused to rest, thoughts and memories had flicked through her mind’s eye like an old-style nickelodeon.

Snap.

Snap.

Snap.

Faster and faster, until they linked together in one continuous moment that finally made sense.

Her parents were miserable, a fact that had been easy for her to ignore, since they never argued or fought. If they’d even had disagreements, they’d kept them offstage.

Looking back, though, she realized there were evenings when the painful silence had become so heavy that she’d felt compelled to speak, to joke, to laugh, just to make everyone smile again. But even those smiles had been fake or short-lived.

Over the years, Shana had caught her mother crying softly. She’d found her several times in the kitchen, standing over the sink, tears streaming down her face. Once she’d been seated at the patio table, watching the hummingbirds at the feeder, eyes red-rimmed and watery.

“They’re just happy tears,” her mom had said each time.

Shana had believed her because she’d wanted to. Needed to. But maybe deep in her heart she’d always known that it hadn’t been happiness flooding her eyes.

You have a choice to make,
the homeless stranger had said.

And what decision was that? To choose tulips for the bouquets
rather than roses? To insist upon keeping the guest list under one hundred?

Sometimes, confrontations are the only way out.

That might be true, but it wasn’t Shana’s job to fix her parents’ marriage. And even if she was willing or able to get involved, she wasn’t in the mood for drama today.

She went into her bathroom, grabbed the brush from the counter, and ran it through her hair. Next she uncapped a tube of lipstick and applied a light coat, hoping the sunrise-pink shade would provide some much-needed color to her face.

Then she borrowed her mother’s car and drove to San Diego to visit Brad. She wouldn’t stay long since he would undoubtedly be studying, but she needed to see him. Maybe being with him, even for a few minutes, would help her shake those old yearnings for Ramon that had been resurrected.

At a quarter to four, she arrived at the small house in Pacific Beach he shared with Ryan Wellborn, a third-year law student, and parked along the curb. The wind had kicked up this afternoon, and as she made her way up the walk, a light sprinkle misted her face and hair. She probably should have brought along a jacket and an umbrella.

She climbed the steps, then stood on the stoop, rang the bell, and waited.

Ryan, a tall blond in his mid-twenties, answered the door wearing a pair of gray sweat pants and a white T-shirt that sported a red and black SDSU logo.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, “but is Brad home?”

“No.” Ryan arched his back, as though trying to work out a kink. “He took off around noon. I’m not sure where he is, but I’d guess he’s at The Lamplighter. It’s his favorite hangout.”

Every muscle in her body tensed, and she struggled to remain calm, unaffected. Brad had told her that he intended to focus on his work, that he was serious about passing the bar
and landing a position in a respectable firm. Maybe he’d just needed a break.

Or maybe he was meeting with a study group.

She thanked Ryan, then drove to The Lamplighter, a trendy bar in the middle of San Diego’s Gaslamp District.

As she entered the old storefront building, with its scarred wood flooring and red brick walls, she scanned the darkened interior, which the happy hour crowd had already begun to fill.

Her vision was still adjusting to the faux-candle lighting when she heard a familiar voice ring out from the rear of the bar, above the din of the other patrons.

“Don’t cut out now,” Brad said. “You’ve only been here for an hour. Stay and have another drink.”

So Ryan had been right; Brad
was
here.

Shana looked in the direction of his voice and spotted him seated in a corner booth with two other guys and an attractive brunette.

She wished she could say that he was clearly with the woman, because it would make it easy to be hurt, to get angry, and lash out. But she couldn’t be sure about anything, other than the fact that Brad was clearly not studying.

“Hey, Shana. What a surprise.” His grin lit his eyes and dimpled his cheeks. “Come over here and sit down, baby.”

She made her way to his table, but her feet seemed to shuffle as though her ankles were shackled.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I’m just kicking back with some friends. Let me introduce you. This is Derek, and that’s Howie.” He placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “This is Kendra.”

As his friends greeted her, she forced a smile, but she had no interest in remembering any of their names. No real interest in their chatter.

Brad slid further into the booth, making room so she could take a seat next to him. “Let me get you something to drink,
babe. How about a green apple martini? That’s what Kendra’s drinking.”

“I’ll pass.”