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CHAPTER ELEVEN

T he last thing Aspen had wanted to do on Monday was shop, but Garrett had insisted they couldn’t get started remodeling until they picked out and ordered everything they’d need.

Which made sense, of course. He couldn’t exactly install tile—or anything else—if she never ordered it.

It didn’t make her dread the day any less, though.

She and Garrett spent the bulk of the day at a builder’s warehouse in Manchester, where he made suggestions about the types of products she should buy, and she took almost all of them. She chose lots of creamy whites and pale grays, which would contrast nicely with the finish she’d chosen for the hardwood floors. When the house was completed, it would look bright and fresh and new. Some buyer was going to pay a premium for it.

“You’re really good at this remodeling thing.” They’d just left Manchester and were on the interstate that would take them north into the mountains. To her surprise, Aspen had enjoyed every minute of the day. “How’d you learn it?”

“My uncle. He and my Aunt Deborah took me in when I was fourteen.”

“What happened to your parents?”

Garrett didn’t glance her way. “They still live in the house I grew up in, happier now that I’m gone.”

She detected only the slightest bitterness in his tone. “I assume there’s a story there.”

“There is.” A moment passed, and he said, “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“If you don’t mind sharing, I’d love to.”

“My father never liked me,” Garrett said. “When I was a kid, I thought there was something wrong with me. I could never do anything right. He hated the way I dressed. He hated my friends. If I made straight A’s, he criticized me for not being involved in more activities. He ridiculed me for not being a starting player on my Pee Wee football team like he was.”

“Oh, Garrett, that’s awful.” Aspen couldn’t imagine growing up in a household like that.

“When I was young, my entire life was consumed with trying to make him proud. I asked for a BMX bike for my twelfth birthday. My father thought it was stupid, but Mom bought it for me anyway. I spent the first week I had it learning to do tricks on that thing. I was pretty good at it, too. I mastered the bunny hop—which is basically just like it sounds. You just yank back on the handles while you lift the bike and get it in the air.”

“Sounds scary.”

“Nah. It’s pretty easy. Anyway, I mastered that, and then I used the trick to ride over a picnic table we had in the backyard. It was a pretty cool stunt, and I couldn’t wait to show my father. Deep down, I thought I’d finally found something that would make him proud.”

She had a bad feeling about where this story was going.

“He got home from work, and I pestered him until he went outside with me. Then I got on my bike, and I hopped up on the picnic table and rode across it and then landed back on the ground. It was flawless.”

“There’s not going to be a happy ending to this story, is there?”

He glanced her direction and smiled. “Very insightful.” The smile shifted into a grimace. “He said, ‘That’s it? All those hours you’ve been on that stupid bike, and that’s all you can do?’ He decided the BMX was a waste of time, that someone like me ought to spend all his time improving himself.”

“What was that supposed to mean?”

“Dad thought I was fundamentally flawed.”

“Based on what?”

Garrett shrugged. “I never knew, but that was the day I realized I would never be able to make my father happy. So I quit trying. I started getting into trouble, and by the time I was fourteen, I’d traveled pretty far down a dark road. I ended up getting arrested for breaking and entering, and only because the judge had pity on me, did I escape going to juvie. Dad was done with me by then. He enrolled me in a boarding school.”

“What did your mom think about that?”

One side of Garrett’s mouth tipped up. “Mom could never stand up to him. She never defended me or protected me, but not because she didn’t love me. Dad’s got a stubborn streak, and Mom’s never been strong enough to fight him. That time she did the best thing she could have done. She called her brother.”

“Your uncle Dean?”

“He and Aunt Deborah took me in. Uncle Dean taught me what a father’s love should look like. They changed my life.”

“So your mother came through in the end.”

“She did. I have a decent relationship with her. Dad and I are civil to each other, but I doubt it’ll ever be more than that.

“As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that Dad’s issues were never about me. He hates himself. I have no idea what happened to make him that way. But he hates himself, and he thinks I’m like him, so he hates me. It’s that simple.”

“And it’s that awful,” Aspen said. “Would that he knew who he was in Christ. Would that he knew how God sees him.”

Garrett glanced her way, a small smile on his lips. “That’s a very good point. Dad’s an atheist. All my efforts to tell him about Christ have been met with scorn.”

“Your mom?”

“She listens, but she believes like Dad does.”

“Are Dean and Deborah believers?”

“Yeah. Dean told me that he’d once done something much worse than breaking and entering, and he’d been given a second chance, and it was his pleasure to offer that same grace to me.”

Aspen reached across the console and laid her hand on Garrett’s forearm. “Thank you for trusting me with that story.”

“I find you very easy to talk to.”

To prove it, Garrett shared stories about life with his aunt and uncle, about all the remodeling projects they’d done together over the years, about his uncle teaching him to cook—which he hated—and to build furniture, which wasn’t his forte. “I mean, I can measure and cut and build things, no problem. But my uncle makes these ornate and beautiful pieces.” He lifted his large hands on the steering wheel. “These things don’t do ornate.”

“But you have an eye for beauty. That’s clear in the designs you did of the house.”

He shrugged. “I guess. Just don’t ask me to carve a table leg into the shape of a lion’s paw and we should be fine.”

She giggled. “I think I can live without that.”

They’d made almost the entire drive, and Garrett’s truck was rolling up the mountain road to her house. Through the trees to her right, she watched the world fall away and caught sight of what looked like a white field below. “What’s with that big valley?”

He glanced that way. “I think you’re looking at Lake Ayasha. Coventry is right on the edge of it. Three seasons a year, it’s beautiful.”

“But it’s white.”

He cast her an amused look. “It’s frozen.”

“Oh.” She felt foolish, but in her defense, she’d never seen a frozen lake. “Ayasha. What a funny name.”

“It means little one. You can see it from your house, you know.”

“I can? I thought…” Right. The snow-covered valley she had peeked at through the trees. “That’s the lake?”

“You ought to hang around and see it in the spring. It’s beautiful.” Garrett made the turn into her driveway when he said, “So I guess I’ll start in about three weeks.”

“What?” She studied his profile and caught the hint of humor in the twitching of his lips. “Why three weeks?”

“You want me to start in the kitchen. You were very clear about that.”

“It is the most logical place.”

“If you say so.”

When he added nothing, she asked again. “Why exactly are we waiting three weeks?”

“Well, we don’t want to start tearing out your current kitchen until we get the new cabinets and island, and they won’t arrive for?—”

“Three weeks.”

“Of course, I have almost all I need for the bathrooms already, and they promised to deliver the new tub on Thursday, but you want me to start in the kitchen.” He shrugged, and she didn’t miss the smug look on his face.

“Why don’t you start wherever you want?”

“Well, there’s an idea.” He shot her a smile. “I wish I’d thought of that.”

When the doorbell rang that evening, Aspen pulled it open to find Grace on the front step. Though the woman smiled, her mouth apparently hadn’t told the rest of her face the plan. Her eyes were wide, her skin a little pale.

Maybe she’d had second thoughts about picking Aspen up. Aspen could offer to drive herself, but at this point, that would make it seem as if Aspen didn’t want to ride with her, which wasn’t the case at all and would only make what was suddenly an awkward situation even worse.

Instead, she did her best to keep her own smile in place. “Come on in. I just need to grab the cookies, and?—”

“I’m going to wait in the car.”

Before Aspen could respond, Grace fled to a waiting SUV.

Okay then.

Aspen donned her coat and grabbed the plate of snickerdoodles she’d baked that afternoon. After setting her alarm and locking up, she approached the car, praying all the way. The last thing she wanted was to spend time with people who didn’t want her around. She’d agreed to this evening because these ladies were among the few people in Coventry who didn’t shoot her dirty looks or warn her away. Maybe they’d heard rumors about her mother since church that made them want to avoid her.

Well, if they had, then Aspen would figure out what they’d heard. If she could learn something, then it would be worth it.

Besides, she was in it now.

They’d been driving in silence for five minutes before Grace spoke. “I’m so sorry about that. I thought I could do this without…” Her voice trailed, and she sent Aspen an apologetic look. “I was at your house before. I was caring for a little girl, and there was this man who?—”

“Wait. That was you? With the renter, who was…?”

Grace nodded.

“Oh, Grace. I had no idea. Garrett told me what happened when he showed me the rooms in the basement, but he didn’t mention any names.”

Grace blew out a long breath. “I’m glad you know the story. I really don’t feel like telling it tonight.”

“No, no. Of course not. If I’d known… I should have met you at your condo. I could’ve driven.” The roads were clear again. Weirdly, Aspen hadn’t driven herself anywhere since she’d arrived at the house the previous week. The afternoon before, she’d cleaned snow off her car and parked it in the detached garage. It was a pain that she’d have to trek outside to get to it, but at least it would be protected if it snowed again.

“If you come to the next girls’ night,” Grace said, “you can drive.”

“That’s a deal.”

Tabby and Fitz lived in a newer neighborhood close to town. There were two cars in the driveway and another two on the road. Grace chose a spot on the road.

Tabby greeted them at the door, took the plate of cookies, and led them into a kitchen-dining combo, which opened to the living area. Aspen greeted the women she’d met the day before. Cassidy was the one with the unusual blue eyes and the newborn. Aspen didn’t see the baby, but she’d spied a car seat inside the door and figured the baby was asleep somewhere in the house. Jacqui had red hair—she was the one married to Reid, who’d helped move her furniture. She wasn’t very talkative but paid close attention to their conversation, as if there might be a test later. Carly had dark brown hair and brown eyes—she might have been at least part Hispanic, but Aspen couldn’t be sure. Apparently, she had a baby she’d left at home with Braden.

It seemed all the boyfriends and husbands went to Carly and Braden’s house every Monday, which was what had prompted the girls’ night.

They were seated at a huge round table, enjoying soup, salad, and sliders, when Carly asked how Aspen’s previous afternoon had gone. Carly had invited her and Garrett to lunch after the service, but thanks to the conversation with Jeff, Aspen had only wanted to get home.

“Did you find anything interesting?”

Aspen had spent the afternoon searching the junk room.

She’d dug through every drawer, glanced at every slip of paper, studied every photograph, and flipped through every book.

Garrett had told her that much of the stuff had come from the attic. One box she unpacked held old dishes wrapped in yellowing newspaper dating back to the sixties.

Long, long before her mother’s disappearance.

She’d found a few envelopes of snapshots all showing the same family. Based on the clothes and hair, they were taken in the late seventies or early eighties.

The boxes held nothing that could help her.

Garrett had piled newer items in one corner, but they must have belonged to the renter. Men’s clothes, razors, some books, and a couple of cheap watches. A lot of his things had been confiscated by the police, Garrett had explained. All the camera equipment and photographs. Thank God those things were gone.

There were more pots and pans and silverware, some plastic containers. Just everyday stuff.

Aspen had found nothing that led to her mother’s whereabouts.

Why had her father bought the place?

What was she doing there?

But she didn’t explain any of that to the ladies at the table. “Nothing noteworthy, unfortunately. I’m planning to take everything to the thrift store.”

Aspen enjoyed the meal and the company more than she’d anticipated. Grace filled them in on her wedding plans. She and Andrew would marry in the spring.

Cassidy shared a few funny stories about James and the newborn.

Tabby told them about a new client she’d just started working for. Apparently, she was a decorator, and considering what she’d done with her own place, a very good one. If Aspen were staying, she might hire her to decorate the house.

Carly asked the ladies about something she’d read in the Bible, which set off a conversation about faith and the armor of God, and even Jacqui, though generally quiet, contributed to that conversation.

This group of friends seemed knitted together as if they’d known each other for years, but Aspen learned that Carly, Grace, and Jacqui were new to town. Cassidy had been gone since high school, only returning a couple of years prior. Only Tabby was local—and Chelsea, but she hadn’t made it that night.

Apparently running a multi-million-dollar company demanded a person’s time.

Aspen loved their friendship and easy conversation. Unexpectedly, the thought of leaving Coventry brought a twinge of regret. Maybe more than a twinge. This camaraderie was exactly what she needed. Friends, a community.

They were enjoying dessert when a sound had her head turning toward the living area. An older woman emerged from the hallway carrying an infant.

“Mom.” Tabby stood and went to her. “Cassidy said the baby needs to sleep.”

The woman patted the child’s tiny back as she settled in a rocking chair by the fireplace. “She was fussing. I don’t mind holding her.”

Tabby shot Cassidy an apologetic look, but the pretty brunette only laughed. “You rock her as long as you want, Mrs. Eaton. If she starts fussing again, bring her to me.”

“Can I get you something?” Tabby asked her mother. “You know you’re welcome to join us.”

“You don’t need an old lady ruining your night. Besides, I’m content to hold this little one.” The woman sent her daughter a look. “If I had my own grandbaby to rock?—”

“Have you met Aspen?”

Aspen held in a laugh as she stood and stepped into the living area, happy to help her friend avoid that conversation. “Nice to meet you.”

The woman looked her way, then blinked. “Oh. Oh. You must be Jane Kincaid’s daughter. I heard you were back.”

Amusement fading, Aspen worked to keep her smile in place.

“Mom.” Tabby’s sharp tone did nothing to divert her mother’s staring. Tabby turned to Aspen, eyes wide, embarrassment clear in her expression. “My dad’s out of town, so Mom is staying with me for a few days.”

The woman kept rocking, but she was focused on Aspen as she shook her head. “How rude of me. I’m Marion Eaton. I’d get up but?—”

“It’s fine.” Aspen could see the resemblance between Tabby and her mother, though the older woman’s wrinkles indicated more frowning in life than smiling. “You knew my mother?”

“Everybody knew Jane,” Marion said. “She was a force.”

Fiery. Passionate. Charismatic. A new description…a force .

Aspen could feel Tabby’s shock beside her and turned to face her. “I’m going to talk to your mom for a second.”

After a squeeze to Aspen’s forearm, Tabby returned to the kitchen, and the women resumed their chatting. The water came on and dishes clanged against one another as they cleared the table and tidied up.

Aspen slid onto the sofa closest to Marion’s rocking chair. “Were you friends with her?”

“I hardly knew her. My husband and I were married with kids when all that stuff happened.”

“All what stuff?”

Marion turned her attention back to the child, but not before Aspen caught the surprise in her expression.

“I’m sorry to pry.” Not that it wasn’t Aspen’s business, whatever Marion had to say. “I’ve heard that my mother got into some trouble”—her father’s words—“and caused heartache”—Bart Bradley’s—“and left destruction in her wake.” The last from Jeff Christiansen. “But nobody will tell me what happened.”

When Marion looked up from the baby, she gave Aspen a sad smile. “This must be really hard for you. Do you remember her at all?” Before Aspen could respond, Marion continued. “What am I saying? You were a baby. Of course you don’t. Well, I can tell you, she was beautiful, and I think, deep down, truly wanted to do good in the world. It didn’t work out the way she planned.”

“Please tell me what you know.”

Marion glanced past Aspen to the ladies in the kitchen. It was one big room, but they were far enough away and their conversation and the sounds of cleaning were loud enough that the women wouldn’t overhear.

Marion leaned closer to Aspen, keeping her voice low. “There was a lumber company in town. Your mother thought they were breaking some laws or something. I don’t know the details. But…” She paused and studied Aspen a long time. “Somebody set off a bomb that destroyed that company’s headquarters.”

“Oh my gosh. A bomb? ” Aspen’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t known what to expect, but she’d never conceived of that.

“It went off in the middle of the night. The place should have been deserted.”

Should have been.

“What happened?”

“There was a woman there.”

For a split second, Aspen thought Marion was going to say Jane had been in the building, that they thought she’d died in the bombing, but Marion continued.

“A secretary or something. She and her husband had fought that night, and she’d gone there to get away. I guess he got violent when he drank.”

Definitely not Aspen’s mother.

“The woman was killed,” Marion said. “The thing was, her car was in the parking lot. Whoever set off the bomb had to have seen it.”

“That’s awful.” Aspen couldn’t figure out what this had to do with her mother. Hoping Marion would explain soon, she asked, “Did you know the lady?”

“It was a much smaller town back then. Everybody knew everybody.”

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been awful. Was she friends with my mother or something? Or did Mom try to find out who did it? I’m just trying to figure out…” Her words trailed as Marion shifted the baby to one arm and reached toward Aspen with the other. Not knowing what else to do, Aspen took her hand.

“Your mother didn’t try to solve the crime.” A long moment passed before Marion spoke again. “Your mother set off the bomb.”