Page 5

Chapter Five

I found Alan and Clare chatting in the kitchen while he scrambled eggs and she buttered toast. Sophie had settled on the sofa in the living room, not even paying attention to the conversation. “Good morning to both of you,” I said in a cheerful voice while reaching for a mug in the cabinet by the sink.

Clare returned my smile, although hers probably appeared more genuine. “I was just telling Alan about how I grew up in Cincinnati, went to Catholic school, and babysat all the little kids in the neighborhood to earn spending money.”

I turned to her after pouring my coffee. “Oh, I thought you were from Chicago.”

“No, that’s where our Motherhouse is located. I’m an Ohio girl at heart.”

“Do you still have family there?” I asked.

“Distant relatives, but no one special. My father’s probably dead, although I don’t know since he took off when Liz was just a toddler. I think my mother eventually died of a broken heart; she always thought he’d come home.”

“Did you raise your sister?” Alan queried.

“Not exactly. Mom didn’t get sick until my second year in college. I guess Liz was in fifth or sixth grade at the time, and the poor kid did what she could to help out.”

I hesitated to ask about the nature of her mother’s illness since it wasn’t any of my business. Instead, I said, “I’m sure it was a difficult time.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Mom continued to work as long as she could because she didn’t want me to drop out of school, though I transferred so I could live at home. I became fascinated with medicine during her last stages of treatment, so I changed my major to nursing and graduated with my BSN.”

When Alan turned off the burner under his skillet, I handed him three plates, then brought cutlery to the dining room table. He dished our eggs, and Clare added four toast points to each plate before we carried them to our places.

She continued her conversation while we ate, mostly due to Alan’s urging. “I lived at home after I graduated college, so I could help out, and took a job at St. Luke’s Hospital. Mom passed when Liz was a junior in high school, and we comforted each other.”

“You had custody of your sister?” Alan asked.

“Yes, though Liz didn’t make it difficult. She was involved with activities at school and earned a scholarship to Ohio State. We got along well, despite the differences in our ages.”

Her commentary didn’t raise any specific red flags for me. I wished I’d met Liz Sterling prior to Clare’s arrival because I didn’t feel able to make an informed judgment about the truth of her words. She said she was a nun, yet she didn’t look like one; she said they had a good relationship, yet couldn’t get in touch with her sister. It all seemed a bit fishy.

Alan probed for details. “How did you end up becoming a missionary?”

She sipped her coffee before responding. “I admired one of the sisters at St. Luke’s and we became friends. Eventually, she invited me to accompany her to Chicago for a seminar, and we visited her Motherhouse during one of our free evenings. I don’t know why, but I felt called to enter her community.”

“Just like that?” I pressed. Her decision seemed somewhat naive to me.

She smiled for a second, then shook her head. “Things are never that simple, are they? Lizzie had a fit when I told her what I wanted to do. We spoke about it often—when she’d come home on school breaks and on the phone—but I finally had to follow my heart.”

“So, you’re no longer close,” I murmured.

“Not very,” she admitted. “I was hoping to rectify that by coming to console her after her husband’s death.”

I felt Alan’s eyes on me because he knew I lived with some guilt about the emotional distance between me and my own sister. I just couldn’t find common ground between us, and I didn’t know why. We, too, had a fairly good relationship as kids.

Maybe he thought I’d share my experience, but I couldn’t. Luckily, he picked up the slack by saying, “Hopefully that will change while you’re here in Aspen Notch.”

“I hope so,” she sighed.

^^ ^

Clare tried phoning her sister after breakfast, again to no avail. Alan suggested that the two of us walk across the street with her, search her porch for a key, and speak to the neighbors. Someone had to know something about Liz Sterling.

I reminded him that I wanted to meet with Lydia Perkins when she came to open my garden shop, though he assured me that it wouldn’t take too long to assist Clare. I, usually the gullible one, wondered why he seemed to have no reservations about her story. Something didn’t sit right with me, yet I heeded my instinct to be hospitable.

Clare wiped the table while I rinsed the dishes for the dishwasher. “Does Lydia manage your shop?” she asked.

“Yes, and she’s a gem. She and her husband, Don, recently moved to Aspen Notch after he retired from the Army. She applied for the position I advertised since she had the experience I needed and thought it would be a way to meet people in town.”

“Has that worked out for you?” Clare asked.

“Very much so. I felt confident to leave my business in her charge while Alan and I were in Japan. Now that I think of it, a neighbor who lives directly across the street, Kareen Barclay, also occasionally helps when we have a lot of customers. We could ask if she or her husband have met your sister.”

Alan nodded his agreement. “Good idea, honey. Kareen, especially, does a lot of work outdoors with her gardens, and she may have met Liz Sterling, at least in passing. ”

“I hope so,” I agreed. “I think it’s strange that we’ve never seen anyone outside over there, but they may have preferred using the back yard since Church Street tends to be a busy road.”

Clare nodded. “That makes sense.”

A chilly breeze accompanied our walk across the street and, despite the sunny day, made me wish I’d worn a sweater. Clare first kept her finger on the doorbell, which we could plainly hear from the porch. Alan and I peered through the front windows and saw nothing awry.

“Let’s try the rear entry,” he said.

Clare knocked on the back door, checked under the mat for a key, and sighed loudly. “Something’s wrong. Do you think I can break a window to get inside?”

Alan firmly shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Since you’re the police chief, can’t you investigate?”

“I’m retired, though I wouldn’t break into a house unless I suspected foul play or danger to the inhabitants.”

“Well, I do, and it’s my sister whom I’m worried about!”

“I understand,” Alan replied in a soothing voice. “Let’s ask the neighbors if they’ve…”

“No!” Clare stated firmly. “We need to check on the welfare of my sister.”

Alan countered in a calm, rational voice. “We don’t go in without police backup.” He pulled out his phone and called Sergeant Mark Matthews, the current chief of police. “We’ve got a 10-65 at 147 Church Road and would like permission to enter.”

“What’s a 10-65?” Clare questioned.

“A missing person. Mark is on his way, so let’s go around front to meet him.”

I tried to read Alan’s expression, but he didn’t look worried. He probably merely wanted to placate Clare, which seemed like a good idea given her obvious concern.

As for me, I just wanted to see if there really was a person named Liz Sterling who lived there.