Hidden in Shadow Pines (13 page)

“Sure. I’ll go get it for you. It’s on a mannequin in the back of the store.”

While waiting for Rosemary to return to the register, I looked at necklaces hanging from a three-tiered silver stand. I picked out a simple silver necklace that I’d use to put the skeleton key and ring on so I could keep them close to me at all times.

Rosemary folded the dress and wrapped it in tissue paper. She did the same with the scarf and gently placed both items in a bag.

I handed the necklace to Rosemary so she could ring it up. “If it’s okay, I’d like to go ahead and wear the necklace now.”

“Sure. Let me cut off the price tag,” Rosemary said. “Everything comes to thirty-five dollars.”

I hadn’t even bothered to look at the price tags while I was trying things on. “Wow, I expected to pay a lot more.”

“You’ll find the clothing prices in Shadow Pines are very reasonable. The town has a deal with one of the bigger retail stores in Darden and we purchase their clearance clothes.”

Handing Rosemary exact change, I asked, “Where’s a shoe store? I’d like to buy a new pair of heels.”

“Across the street, two doors down.” Rosemary pointed out the door. “Albert’s Shoes.”

“Thank you, Rosemary.”

Finding a pair of black heels was even easier than finding the dress. The first pair of shoes I tried on fit perfectly. Fifteen dollars.

Checking the map, I saw that the grocery store was on the next corner. I hoped that Hudson and my grandfather had worked out a plan and I’d be leaving tonight.

Walking into the grocery store, I was reminded of a mom and pop grocery you’d find near a camping spot while on vacation. Seven aisles offered canned goods. Produce was arrayed in front, dairy along the east side, frozen products on the south side, and baked goods to the west.

Fishing gear, stuffed deer heads, and old tools decorated the walls. Browsing the store, I decided to buy a few items in case I had to make something for the potluck dinner Wednesday night. Deciding on apple crisp, I grabbed a few apples, along with brown sugar, butter, and oatmeal.

Only after putting my items on the checkout conveyer belt did I realize Lincoln was the cashier. I looked behind me and felt relieved that someone else was in line.

“This it for you?” Lincoln asked.

“Uh, yes.” I was nervous being around him, even though I felt sure he didn’t realize I’d overheard him and Devlin in the woods.

“Five-fifty.” He held out his hand waiting for payment.

Handing him a twenty-dollar bill, I asked, “Is Hudson here? I wanted to tell him what a nice store he has.”

After he gave me my change, Lincoln muttered, “He went to get supplies today. Hasn’t made it back yet.”

As I picked up the plastic bag full of groceries, I said, “Will you tell him I stopped by and give him the message?”

He’d already starting ringing up the next person in line. With a nod he said, “Yeah, sure.”

I doubted Lincoln would utter a word to Hudson. However, he would definitely tell Devlin about the encounter.

I headed back down First Street and noticed Rosemary walking toward me along the other side of the road. Crossing the street, she wheezed, “I’m so glad I caught you. You dropped this in the store. I thought I missed you.”

In her hand was a lavender envelope. I could see
Isabella
written on the outside in bold, black lettering. The envelope was the same color as the note left in my room a couple nights before.

My pulse quickened. “Who was in the store after me?”

“No one. The bell sounded once, but when I looked toward the door to greet the woman, all I saw was the door closing,” Rosemary said.

Trying not to sound too worried, I asked, “Did you catch a glimpse of the woman?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know it was a woman?”

“Nobody but women come in the store. Is everything okay?” Rosemary looked concerned.

Laughing off my line of suspicious questioning, I said, “Yes. Yes. Thank you for delivering this to me.”

I put the envelope in my purse and headed toward Jaime’s house. Once there and sitting on the bed, I opened the envelope. Another message on lavender paper in black felt pen.
how many more people have to die?
My hands started to shake and the paper fell to the floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Tuesday, August 13, 2013, 7 p.m.
(day 8 in Shadow Pines—waiting on Hudson)

At seven, Hudson hadn’t contacted me yet and I was getting worried. Normally, I’d go for a long walk, but the wind had kicked up and the forecast included rain. Instead, I decided to go upstairs and start typing the details of my strange day in Shadow Pines.

When I heard the garage door, I looked at my watch. I’d been typing for almost two hours. I gathered the typed pages and put them in my purse before heading downstairs. Jaime stood in the kitchen, staring out the corner window.

“How was your meeting?” I asked.

Jaime didn’t speak. She didn’t even turn around to acknowledge my presence. “Would you like some hot cocoa? I’m going to fix myself a cup,” I said.

When she finally turned around, her eyes were red.

“Why did you do it?” She grabbed a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “Why?”

I shook my head. “What are you talking about? What did I supposedly do?”

Sneering, she said, “Oh, right. Like you don’t know.”

I scratched my head, trying to figure out what I’d done to make her angry. I said, “I don’t. Tell me.”

Tears started streaming down Jaime’s face. “The speech you gave this afternoon. Some women talked about how eloquently you spoke. Others couldn’t believe you would be so outspoken to the Royal Lady. Oliver and Zachary talked to me after the meeting. Told me to straighten you out. They didn’t like all the fuss you’ve caused.”

I threw my hands up. “I spoke my mind. I’m not sorry.”

Jaime screamed, “I wish you’d never come into my life!” Then she stormed out and slammed her bedroom door.

I tilted my head back and let out a huge sigh, stretching my hands to the ceiling. I walked to the living room and stood in front of the picture window, watching the rain coming down in sheets. I grabbed the afghan from the chair, wearing it like a shawl, and browsed the bookshelf looking for something to read.

Thunder startled me awake and the book I’d been reading fell to the floor. A white envelope lay on the coffee table with
Isabella
written in red cursive lettering. I figured Jaime had written an apology note.

I went upstairs to my room opened the envelope. Inside was a card that simply read,
À mercredi nuit. Grand-père
. (See you Wednesday night. Grandfather.)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Wednesday, August 14, 2013, 9 a.m.
(day 9 in Shadow Pines—at the funeral)

Two caskets stood in front of the lectern, Gloria’s covered with a spray of pink and red roses, and Thomas’s covered with white and yellow mums. I sat in back on the end of the last row. Being at a funeral brought back many emotions of my parents’ funeral. In case I needed to leave early, I could exit without many people seeing me.

Chimes, followed by silence.

I held the note from last night in my left hand. It gave me the strength I’d need to get through the service. Grandfather had written the note in French in case someone else opened it. See you Wednesday night. Grandfather. I was going home tonight, even though I didn’t know how. I trusted Ed—my grandfather. He’d never let me down in the past sixteen years. Gloria would’ve been happy for me.

Zachary opened the service with a reading, followed by Gloria’s son talking about her caring heart, the way she loved going to work at the clinic and helping those she cared so much about.

Thomas’s older brother told stories from their childhood, and the congregation laughed a few times.

Ninety minutes later, Oliver gave the closing prayer.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.

A time to be born, and a time to die.

A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted.

A time to break down, and a time to build up.

A time to weep, and a time to laugh.

A time to mourn and a time to dance.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.

Pallbearers carried the caskets down the center aisle followed by immediate family. Chimes. People rose and chatter started. Many women carried tissues in their hands, wiping away tears.

I needed to get out. Get air.

From the foyer, I watched as the immediate families went down the stairs and into the street to follow the two hearses. I knew from looking at the map earlier this morning that the cemetery was within walking distance of the church, but I couldn’t determine how to get in. My curiosity got the best of me, so I followed the families from a distance.

They headed west of the church and disappeared into a grove of trees. When I caught up to where they had been, I found an immaculately cut path that led through the pines. A carpet of pine needles covered the path. A quarter-mile later, the path ended at an open field. Trying to stay hidden, I stood at the edge of the pines, looking at headstones scattered across an area the size of two football fields. Pine trees lined the outer perimeter. In the center of the burial ground stood a marble mausoleum. I was too far away to read the name chiseled at the peak, but I assumed it belonged to the founding Stovall family.

Thomas’s family held his final interment on the west side, Gloria’s family on the east side.

I walked fifteen feet into the grove. I wanted to make sure no one would see me as they left the gravesites. My relatives were buried in this cemetery—the family I never knew existed until last week—and I wanted to find their headstones and pay my respects.

An hour later, the groundskeepers finished their tasks and drove off.

I stepped out from behind the pine trees, reading each headstone as I walked past. Some of the names looked familiar. At the end of the fifth row, I stopped. Luster. Mable and Herschel. Next to them Abigail and William. Charles and Alta. At the end of the row, Isabella and Edison—my grandparents.

Seeing my grandfather’s name on a tombstone when I knew he was alive was eerie. I had so many questions to ask him when I saw him tonight. The big one—why he never told me I was his granddaughter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Wednesday, August 14, 2013, 1 p.m.
(day 9 in Shadow Pines—last day in Shadow Pines?)

The piece of toast I’d devoured for breakfast had long ago served its purpose. I was tired and hungry. However, I needed to stop at the bank before heading to the Hi-Ho Café. Not only did I need money to pay for lunch, I also wanted to leave Jaime a monetary thank you for sharing her home with me during this dreadful time in my life.

Walking into the bank knowing Thomas was gone felt strange. Alive, he’d been a trusted friend. In death, his true intentions surfaced—he was a liar and an enemy. I was surprised how busy the bank was for a Wednesday afternoon. I looked across at Jaime’s teller station. She was helping an elderly man with his transaction. The teller two windows down waved me over. Her nametag read
Dena
. “I’d like to withdraw a thousand dollars, please.”

Dena furrowed her brows. “I’ll have to get authorization from Gary, the assistant manager, for such a large transaction. May I inquire why you need such a large sum?”

I didn’t realize I was going to have to explain my actions. “I’d like to thank some people for their hospitality,” I said.

“Please take a seat, and I’ll be with you in a moment,” Dena told me.

I took a seat in the middle of the room. As I watched Dena and Gary talking in the hall, my stomach growled. A few minutes later, Dena waved me back to her teller window. “You’ve been approved. I’ll need your signature.”

I signed the document authorizing the deduction of one-thousand dollars from the Luster bank account. Dena counted out the money—nine one-hundred-dollar bills and five twenties—and put the cash in an envelope.

“Thank you for doing business with us today,” Dena said.

I thought I’d have a chance to say
hi
to Jaime, but she wasn’t at her window when I left to have lunch at the Hi-Ho Café. I wondered if she was avoiding me.

The Wednesday special was just as fabulous as the food the day before: fried chicken, corn, and new potatoes. I’d been so focused on eating and jotting a few notes, I hadn’t realized all the other patrons had left. Now, I was the only person in the restaurant.

“I hate to rush you,” Paige said, “But we’re closing. It’s almost one-thirty.” Paige had lost her perkiness. Instead of chatting, she acted as if she wanted to get rid of me.

Feeling embarrassed, I said, “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

I ate the last potato and Paige scooped up my empty plate. “If you don’t mind, could you pay right away?” She then grabbed my glass and silverware and walked to the back counter.

I picked up my purse, pulling out my wallet as I walked to the back counter. After I handed Paige a crispy twenty-dollar bill, I couldn’t help but notice a white van parked outside the open back door.

Curious, I asked, “Whose white van is parked out back?”

“Oh,” Paige said, glancing toward the van. “It’s Lincoln’s. He let me borrow it today. I’ve got to move a couch.”

Without exchanging pleasantries, she handed me my change, then followed me to the front and locked the door behind me. I wondered if Lincoln could be threatening Paige, too. Had she been nice the other day in order to keep an eye on me? I realized I hadn’t seen Lincoln or Devlin at the funeral.

I suddenly had a spine-tingling feeling that I was being watched. My eyes darted up and down the street, trying to decide if anyone or anything seemed out of place. Then, I thought of Jack Deveraux—he’d never be frightened, and I decided I wasn’t going to be either.

I’d passed the postal center on several occasions, but never had the time to go in until now. Curious, I went on inside. Small, post-office-box-size cubes lined the right wall, each cube numbered. The cubes on the left wall were larger and marked alphabetically.

“Can I help you?” someone from behind asked.

I turned. The woman in a red cardigan and khaki pants looked familiar. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember your name,” I said.

“Alberta. From quilting.”

I nodded, pointing a finger in her direction. “That’s right. You were sewing the beautiful baby blanket.”

“Your box is number 17.” Alberta walked to the small wall of cubes and pulled a couple of things from cube 17. One was a lavender sheet of paper, the same color as the two threatening notes I’d received.

“The lavender sheet is a reminder for you to place any pie or grocery supply orders for next month by the twenty-fifth,” Alberta said.

I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath. I instantly felt relieved upon learning it wasn’t another mysterious note.

“Francine stuffs the boxes on the first of every month. If someone hasn’t stopped in by the twenty-fifth, then I send a list to the town council, and they broadcast the names over the radio. Trust me, you don’t ever want to be on that list. It’s an embarrassment for the family.”

Alberta handed me the two items in my box, adding, “The
Shadow Pines Newsletter
is always in yellow and comes out the fifth of every month. Verla Blair, Oliver’s wife, writes the articles and compiles the birthday information. I copy and distribute the newsletter.”

If Francine was in charge of the order sheet, Devlin would have easy access to the lavender paper. I pondered if he was the one leaving me the notes.

Changing focus, I looked at the newsletter Alberta had handed me. It was one page, double sided. The header looked as though someone had written it in calligraphy. The rest was typed. No graphics. No clip art.

“How did I end up with number 17?” I wasn’t at all surprised to have a box, considering everyone in town thought I’d be a full-time resident, but I was curious as to how I’d gotten such a low number.

Alberta adjusted her glasses. “A black sheet of paper goes in any unoccupied box. Happens when someone marries or dies. The first box with a black sheet of paper was number 17. It also helps Francine when she puts the flyers in the boxes. It makes it easy for her to skip the boxes with black paper.”

“Does everyone in Shadow Pines have a box?”

“Anyone eighteen and older does.”

Not that I’d ever use the postal center since I’d be leaving tonight, but I was intrigued to know how the operations worked. “How do you know whose box is whose?”

Alberta pointed to the back wall. “We keep the lists at the counter. One is numerical and one is alphabetical by last name. By the way, the larger cubes are for the businesses.”

Two binders sat on the counter, clearly marked.

Still inquisitive, I asked, “And anyone can come in and put something in any box?”

Nodding affirmatively, Alberta said, “Yes. The door is open twenty-four hours a day. I’m here for a few hours every afternoon. Sometimes people just drop notes or things in the basket if they don’t have time to figure out someone’s box number. It’s my job to make sure things get put in the right box.”

Deciding I’d grasped the concept of the postal center, I said, “Thank you, Alberta. You’ve been very helpful.”

My activity for the day was the potluck dinner at six-thirty. I grabbed the bag of items I’d purchased at the grocery store the day before and made an apple crisp.

While the apple crisp baked, I sat on the couch and read the newsletter. The top article, written by Oliver Blair, talked about upcoming special events over the next few months—fall festival at the park, Thanksgiving dinner service for the nursing home, a special Christmas Eve church service, and a New Year’s Day celebration at the church.

Next was a list of birthdays and anniversaries for the month. On the page back was what looked like a regular column—
Dona’s Tips
.

- Use tweezers to remove bones from fish or for placing small candies on decorated cakes.

- Use pancake flour instead of regular flour for better flavor the next time you make fried foods.

- Add bread crumbs to your scrambled eggs to increase the size of the helpings and to add new flavor.

- When adding nuts to a cake batter, first dampen them with a little warm water and roll them in flour. This will better distribute the nuts in the cake.

- Use a bread tab to hold your spot on a roll of masking tape.

I skipped the last two articles—
How to Correctly Pickle Cucumbers
and
Upcoming Meeting on Squirrel Hunting
.

The days were getting shorter and the nights cooler. Tonight, according to the radio, we had a chance of rain. I put on a white, long-sleeved shirt—buttoning it to the top button to conceal my necklace—and wore a black sweater, black slacks, and my black flats.

Grabbing a piece of paper off the desk, I wrote a short note for Jaime.
Thank you for your hospitality. Isabella.
I wrapped the note around five hundred-dollar bills and put it in the top dresser drawer. At some point after I’d left Shadow Pines, Jaime would find the note.

Not knowing what would happen tonight and thinking that I might have to reach for my gun quickly, I moved it from underneath the secret lining to the side zipper pocket of my purse. I grabbed one of Jaime’s umbrellas from the hall closet and stuffed it in my purse.

My feet were already tired from walking in heels and standing on the tiled kitchen floor cutting apples. I wished I could stay home and soak my feet, but I dared not miss the activity for the day. I wasn’t sure when I’d see Hudson and Ed, and I had to keep my schedule because I didn’t want to mess with their plan—whatever it was.

Upon crossing Fourth Street at the intersection with Third Avenue, I felt a few sprinkles. I bent down to set the apple crisp on the sidewalk so I could reach inside my purse and pull out the umbrella. I was trying to open it when someone grabbed me from behind and put a cloth over my mouth. I kicked—tried to scream—but everything went black very quickly.