Page 33 of Behind These Four Walls
“Not really. Plenty of people visit Charlottesville and the nearby towns. But you asking about Mabel is the giveaway. She’s my grandmother. Passed on many years.” Becca looked to be about in her fifties, strands of blondish-gray hair escaping the bun she’d swooped to the top of her head. “What brings you by? You here to visit the Blue Ridge Mountains or Monticello? That’s a huge draw.” Becca pursed her lips as she considered Isla. “You don’t look like the mountain-trekking type, though.”
Isla dunked her tea bag in and out of the steaming water by its string. “May I have creamer?”
Becca raised an eyebrow. “Creamer? That’s ... unusual.”
“I learned it from my dad. He was from the west coast of Africa, and most will drink their tea with cream—or evaporated milk, rather—and sugar.” Isla shrugged. “You know, colonization and all that. It’s a British thing that stuck.” One of many things that stuck.
“You don’t say?” Becca appeared unaffected by the colonization part or the implications beyond it. What did she care?
Isla ordered bacon and eggs, scrambled hard with cheese. She thought about ordering the home-fried potatoes, but she just couldn’t get into that. Fried potatoes had been her father’s specialty, and she still couldn’t eat any without thinking of him and feeling the sadness that came with some of those memories.
The morning rush was clearing out, leaving Becca free to engage without much distraction. There were other servers to bus the tables. One seat over was a man in a police uniform, his radio set to low as he plowed through his big breakfast platter. Isla had seen that item on the menu and known it was way out of her league.
“I was actually working some temp jobs around town and recently began some contract work for the Corrigans.”
Isla swore the noise, even the sizzle from the griddle in the back, died down when she mentioned the name.
Becca came closer. “That so?”
Isla nodded, finishing the food in her mouth before continuing. “Yep. He’s receiving the Man of the Year award in September, and so I am doing a profile on him. His life and career. I’m talking to pretty much everyone to get a good sense of who and how he is. Local perspectives, you know?”
Becca twisted her lips in mild distaste. “Victor Corrigan, huh? You probably won’t get much dirt on him in town—people either adore him or fear retribution if they say anything untoward. You know what I’m saying? The Corrigans don’t take too kindly to a bad public image.”
Isla pretended nonchalance, taking a sip of her slightly cooled tea. Perfect. Just the way she liked it. “I figured as much, and that’s fine. The profile is supposed to make him look good, you know?” She paused, pretending to think. “What about his family? Any stories there? I’ve met his three kids, Holland, Bennett, and Myles. Met his wife too.”
Becca’s look of aversion sparked Isla’s curiosity even more. How much about the family dynamics did Becca know?
“I know there is another daughter, but she’s not around, apparently hasn’t been for a while now. Eva—Edith—”
“I wouldn’t be around either if I was her. You’re talking about Edie, or I guess Eden if you want to be proper when you cite it. But when she was around, everyone knew her as Edie. She was Elise’s daughter.”
So they knew. Isla tried to hide her surprise, but she wasn’t fast enough.
Becca smirked. “Oh, you thought an illegitimate child popping out at the same time a legitimate one did wouldn’t be news among the common folk? Please. Rich people aren’t as subtle as they like to believe they are, and we aren’t as stupid as they’d like to think we are,” she said. She continued when Isla had nothing to add. “Nice girl. Sweet. Didn’twant anything to do with that family of hers, I suppose, which is why we haven’t seen her around. Have we, Bowen?” Becca addressed the officer to Isla’s right.
He looked up, looked at Becca with raised eyebrows, then finally at Isla. Isla was bringing her mug to her lips at that exact moment and stopped when she came face-to-face with him. He was the cop she’d run into back then. He and another older man who was an asshole. He was the one who had pulled her back from walking into traffic without looking because she’d been so distracted after Eden’s disappearance. Her eyes widened as they connected with his. Did he recognize her from the brief snatches he’d seen of her back then? Did she look different enough? Her hair was pressed into long waves, not curly and in its natural state like it was before. She was older. Changed. But cops were trained to remember faces, weren’t they? Or specific details that stood out to them. At least that was what some of her connections in law enforcement had told her back home.
Did Officer Bowen remember her as she clearly remembered him? And what’s more, where was the asshole partner of his? Hopefully retired.
She sipped to keep herself from staring too hard, and he glanced at her without any sign of recognition. He actually looked a little annoyed at having his big breakfast platter interrupted for idle chatter.
“I guess so” was all he said before nodding to Isla and going back to his plate.
Becca said, “She’s probably living in the lap of luxury, like all young heiresses of a billion-dollar empire. She’s not thinking about this little town anymore.”
Or maybe not at all,Isla thought grimly.
“Edie wasn’t that type of person,” Officer Bowen remarked. He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and balled it up. “She wasn’t what you’d expect an heiress to be.”
His comments surprised Isla, and she chanced another look at him. He was maybe mid-thirties, just a little older than Myles. His remarks put Isla off. She hadn’t expected him to have that kind of opinion.One like he knew Eden personally. She’d have to think about that and Officer Bowen further. But she couldn’t risk him eventually recognizing her if she said or did too much around him.
Becca nodded in agreement. “You’re right, you’re right. That’s why it was a big ole surprise when she attended the local schools here. Not the private one her siblings went to.” Becca leaned against the counter, settling in, while Isla nibbled on a perfectly cooked piece of bacon. Not too crunchy, not too limp. Just right.
“To be honest, she was something special. I think because her mama was more common like us than them, meaning not from money, Edie could get along with everyone well, without coming across pretentious. You know what I mean? If you don’t, you will when you hang around that family long enough. Pretentious and privileged and thinking everyone works for them. Huh, Tolson Bowen?”
Bowen sighed. “I don’t know what you mean, Becca. I’m just trying to enjoy my breakfast before my shift.”
Becca motioned for Isla to lean closer to her, and Isla obeyed. “Bowen’s one of the good ones,” she whispered in a nonwhisper that Bowen could clearly hear. His ears reddened. “Don’t get me wrong, the police here are great and do their job well. Even if sometimes they look the other way for certain people. Just saying.”