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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

G arrett had been waiting thirty minutes by the time Aspen met him in the lobby of the police station. She was already wearing her coat and gloves, and her cheeks were pink. She carried a vaguely familiar pale blue box.

Her lips stretched into a smile, but there was no heart behind it.

He stood. “You all right?”

She nodded but continued through the room and out the door. He grabbed it before it closed and then held it open for a woman going in. By the time he caught up with Aspen, she was standing by his pickup.

He opened her door, and she climbed inside, keeping the box level.

He had so many questions about what she’d learned, but she seemed…off, somehow. So after he climbed in, he went with, “What’s in the box?”

“Dessert for tonight.”

“Oh.” Then it hit him. “It’s from Josie’s.”

She nodded.

He maneuvered into traffic. “Did you learn anything?”

She said nothing, so he risked a glance her way to find she was nodding.

“Something disturbing, I guess.”

“The chief asked me not to talk about what he told me. Sorry.”

“Oh.” He wished she’d make an exception for him. It wasn’t as if he’d tell anybody. But Aspen didn’t seem to think an exception was in order. “Are you okay?”

“I’m processing.”

Garrett stopped at one of the few stoplights in town and faced her. “Can I do anything?”

“I think I should just go back to Grace’s. I’m not sure I’m up for company tonight.”

“Are you sick?”

“No. Just…out of sorts.”

“You need to eat, and I happen to know Dean fixed a delicious meal, one of my favorites. We don’t have to stay long.”

The light turned green, and he continued driving toward his aunt and uncle’s house. He wanted Aspen to meet the two most important people in his life. More than that, he didn’t want to miss out on an evening with her. Once they got there, she’d perk up.

But how presumptuous to think he knew what was best for her. “We can cancel, if you’d rather.”

“I do want to meet your uncle,” she said.

“We can leave right after dessert. Or…anytime you want. Just say the word.”

Aspen’s side of the cab was silent. Not being able to talk about what she’d learned was probably making whatever she’d heard feel even worse.

She needed a distraction. Dean and Deborah would be able to provide that, if nothing else.

They rode in silence until he parked in the driveway. “You ready?”

She nodded and pushed open her door.

He ran around to help her from the truck. “Uncle tells me a gentleman always helps a lady in and out of vehicles.”

He’d expected at least a smile.

“Can I carry that for you?”

She handed him the box, which he shifted to his other hand before sticking out his elbow. “They have some drainage issues, so the driveway stays wet for a while. It might be a little slick.”

She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow and held on tight.

He loved the feel of her leaning on him, trusting him. Later, after dinner, after he took her back to Grace’s, he’d coax what she’d learned from Cote out of her. He could be trusted with it, and she needed to share it.

He was glad she’d decided to come. Once Dean spent an evening with Aspen, he’d understand why Garrett was enamored with her. He’d realize she was nothing like her mother. The grudge he held against her would have dissipated by the time they dug into Josie’s desserts, of that Garrett had no doubt.

As usual, they hadn’t reached the front door before Deborah pushed it open. “Welcome! Hurry, hurry. It’s cold out here.”

He chuckled. “Auntie, if you’d leave it shut until we got there?—”

“Oh, shush. Can I help it if I’m eager?”

They walked up the concrete steps, and Deborah pulled Aspen into a quick hug. “I’m so glad you came.” At the sight of the box in Garrett’s hands, her eyebrows lifted. “And what is that?”

“I picked them up at that coffee shop,” Aspen said.

“Josie is a master.” She took the box from Garrett and stepped back. “Dean’s in the kitchen.”

Garrett helped Aspen with her coat and hung it on the hooks right inside the door before shrugging out of his own. They walked up the half flight to the main floor, Deborah right behind.

With a hand on Aspen’s back, Garrett urged her toward the kitchen, where his uncle was facing the stove. “Uncle Dean, this is Aspen Kincaid.”

He turned to them. Though he wore a smile, Garrett saw wariness behind it and hoped he only recognized it because he knew the man so well.

Aspen stepped forward, hand outstretched. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Garrett’s told me a lot about you.”

Dean shook her hand. “Glad you’re here.”

“Thank you for the table and chairs.”

“They were just taking up space.”

Garrett peeked beyond him. “I’m starved.”

“Chicken scampi,” Dean said to Aspen. “I was gonna do shrimp, but I didn’t know if you ate shellfish.”

“I do, but I like chicken,” she said. The scents of garlic and spices filled the air. “It smells delicious.”

“You guys sit. It’ll be ready in a minute.”

Behind them, Deborah said, “What can I get you to drink? I opened a pinot grigio to go with the meal.”

“Just water for me,” Aspen said.

“I’ll have the same.” Garrett occasionally sipped a glass of wine with dinner, but if Aspen didn’t want any, he’d skip it too. She seemed uncomfortable enough already, and the last thing he wanted to do was make that worse.

Maybe she was nervous because this was akin to meeting his parents? If that was the case, he didn’t mind knowing she cared enough about him to want to make a good impression.

Deborah got them both glasses of water, poured some wine for herself and Dean, and then sliced a loaf of Italian bread Dean had been warming in the oven.

By the time it was steaming from a basket in the center of the table, Dean had carried over the bowl of pasta and a green salad.

“Looks delicious,” Garrett said.

“It does.” Aspen had her hands in her lap, but he could see they were clasped together.

“Garrett,” Deborah said, “since you brought the guest of honor, will you pray for us?” Deborah’s hands went to Dean on one side and Garrett on the other at the round table.

Garrett took it and reached for Aspen’s.

She took his hand, then settled her other into Dean’s with a tight smile.

Garrett thanked God for the food and for Aspen’s presence at their table. He asked for God’s blessing on the meal and the conversation. Silently, he added a prayer that Aspen would relax and feel comfortable.

After the chorus of amens, they dug into the feast.

Dean’s gaze kept slipping to Aspen at his side. When she turned his way and caught him looking, he said, “I’m sorry. It’s just so strange.”

“Uncanny.” Deborah added, smiling. “How much you look like your mother.”

Aspen seemed to take the remark as an invitation. She said to Dean, “You knew her too.”

“Not as well as Deb. But yeah.” Though Dean seemed to think he’d lobbed the conversation ball back into her court, Aspen said nothing. After an awkward moment, he added, “She was…unique. I’ve never known anybody with her passion.”

“Brent Salcito said the same.”

Dean’s hands stilled over his meal. “You talked to Salcito?”

“We had coffee on Tuesday. He said she was the female Bill Clinton.”

The moniker was amusing, and Garrett chuckled.

Dean only nodded. He’d always been on the quiet side, but his behavior tonight bordered on rude.

“Are you still close with Brent?” Aspen asked.

“No.” He twirled a forkful of angel hair pasta and popped it in his mouth.

Deborah’s laugh felt forced. “We went our separate ways after…college.”

Garrett heard the hesitation and wasn’t surprised when Aspen called her on it. “After college? Or after the bombing.”

Deborah’s skin paled a little. She set her fork down, keeping her gaze on Aspen. “We were all questioned about it, you know. Us and Brent, and the rest of the club. But they mostly focused on us because we were closest to your mother. It’s not that big a school. Everybody knew what happened, and a lot of people knew we were friends with your mother. It became…awkward.”

“Maybe this isn’t the time to talk about all that.” Garrett tried to think of a segue to a lighter topic.

Dean shoved another forkful of food into his mouth as if, by keeping it full, he would be spared having to speak.

“I’m sorry.” Aspen attempted a smile. “It’s been a really long day, and my mind is…” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to bring that up over dinner.”

“We understand, hon,” Deborah said. “It must be hard, what you’re going through.”

“Being run off the road?” Aspen said. “Barely escaping death? Sort of hard, yeah.” Aspen watched her a long moment before cutting her pasta into small pieces and taking a bite.

Deborah said nothing.

Garrett felt like there were two conversations going on at the table, and he was only hearing one of them.

Aspen set down her fork and sipped her water. “So, did you stay at Plymouth?” She directed the question to Deborah.

“I transferred to New Hampshire College in Manchester.”

Aspen turned to Dean. “This meal is delicious. Thank you so much for making it.”

He looked up from his plate and smiled. It almost looked genuine. “It’s my pleasure.”

“You like to cook?”

“I love it.”

“And he’s really good,” Garrett said, grateful for the subject change. “Did you know Aspen’s father owned restaurants?”

“Is that so?” Dean asked. “How many?”

“Four. There were two on the Big Island—Kona and Waikoloa. One in Waikiki and one on Maui.”

“Touristy places?” Dean asked.

“The first one was in Kona, and it started out as a local favorite. Dad expanded to a second restaurant when I was little. When it was featured on one of those Food Network shows, it exploded, and he opened the other ones.”

“Good for him,” Dean said. “He always was a hard worker. I didn’t know he liked to cook, though. Do you?”

“It’s funny,” she said. “I can cook, but it’s not something we did together very much. We were at the restaurant most nights. We ate there, but Dad wasn’t the chef at that point. Even though he loved to create amazing dishes, he handed over the recipes to the cooks. When we didn’t have to be at the restaurant, we usually did something fun together. Surfing or hiking, if there wasn’t some school activity I needed to attend. I haven’t done a lot of cooking in my life.”

“What a unique experience, practically growing up in a restaurant.” Dean nodded across the table to Garrett. “This one’s a great cook, mostly because I made him learn.”

Garrett chuckled. “I didn’t complain too much.” Those were some of his favorite memories from when he’d first come to live with them. Deborah had worked more nights back then, but Dean was always home.

“Only because I let you sample the food.” Dean winked at Aspen. “The kid was un-fillable. Never seen somebody eat so much.”

“I was a growing boy.”

Dean eyed the giant portion of pasta on Garrett’s plate. “What’s your excuse now?”

“It was a busy day,” he said, spearing a piece of chicken. “I need to keep my strength up. Even if it means forcing down this roadkill.”

“Oh, you two.” But the affection in Deborah’s voice was obvious. To Aspen, she said, “Ignore them. That’s what I do.”

Aspen smiled and turned back to Dean. “I can see why you like to cook—mixing all those ingredients to see what you can create. It’s different, but a little like what you studied in school, right? Did you finish your chemistry degree?”

Dean’s playful expression dissipated, and his skin turned red. He glared at Garrett, the look so fast Garrett might have imagined it. “No.” He stabbed a bite of the meal and ate it.

Either Aspen didn’t notice Dean’s discomfort or didn’t care. If Garrett had to guess, despite how well he knew her—and liked her—he’d guess the second. “Did you change majors, or colleges, or both?”

Dean swallowed the food. “After your mother blew up that building and murdered?—”

“Dean,” Deborah said.

“…that woman… After I was questioned about my involvement?—”

“That’s enough,” Deborah said.

But Dean ignored her. “After everybody and his cousin thought I was involved, I quit school. I never went back.”

Garrett expected Aspen to apologize for dredging up old, painful memories. But she didn’t.

Garrett said, “I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it.”

Dean glared at Aspen another moment, then grabbed his slice of bread.

“Having you here,” Deborah said, “it’s a little disconcerting for us.”

“I understand,” Aspen said. “The thing is, I came to Coventry to figure out what happened to my mother. What do you think happened?”

Deborah and Dean shared a look.

Dean answered. “She blew up that building, and then she took off. No idea where she went. To tell you the truth, I always figured she realized she killed somebody and lost it. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she’s been alive all this time, one of the millions of nutcase homeless people wandering around.”

“Uncle!” Garrett’s gut twisted at the unkind words. What was happening here?

“You think she’s alive?” Aspen asked.

“Not necessarily.” He shrugged as if the whereabouts of Aspen’s mother didn’t matter at all. “There was no body. What did your father think?”

“He thought she was dead.” Aspen’s attitude was just as puzzling. She didn’t seem hurt or shocked by Dean’s words. It was as if she’d come prepared for a confrontation. “He said that she wouldn’t have been able to survive and stay hidden in her state of mind.”

Dean nodded. “Wherever she is, she’s not here. So if you’re looking for her, you’re looking in the wrong place. You probably ought to move along.”

“There’s no need to be rude.” This meal had not gone the way Garrett hoped. He wasn’t sure who he blamed more for that. Aspen had started it, but Dean was doing his best to finish it with a win.

Aspen turned to Garrett with that same forced smile he’d seen more than once that night. “It’s okay, Garrett. It’s good to know where I stand.” Her tone was light, but he heard the undercurrent of anger.

“Let’s change the subject,” Deborah said. “How’s the house coming along?”

It wasn’t easy, but Garrett shifted gears. They managed to get through the rest of dinner and dessert without talking about Jane Kincaid or the bombing or anything else unpleasant. Even Dean engaged in the conversation, giving Garrett hope that maybe his uncle could accept their relationship.

When the last bite of pastry was finished, Deborah started clearing the table. Aspen stood to help, and Garrett did the same.

Dean pushed his chair back. “Son, I could use your help with something in the shop.”

“Okay.” He looked at Aspen. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Only at her nod did he follow his uncle down the stairs.

Garrett stepped into the workshop behind his uncle. He’d been polite long enough. Now, he needed answers. “What was that about?”

It was clear when Dean turned to face him that he hadn’t asked Garrett to follow him because he needed help.

“You told her about me? That I studied chemistry?”

“What difference?—?”

“You don’t understand anything.” Dean’s skin was red and mottled. His hands were clenched at his sides.

Garrett flashed back to the episode Dean had had the week before—the shortness of breath, the weakness. He reached toward him. “Why don’t you sit?—?”

“I’m fine.” He yanked his arm away. “I don’t trust her. You were supposed to keep an eye on her, let me know what she’s been up to. And now I find out you’ve been telling her about me , about us . Where’s your loyalty?”

Garrett stepped back, shocked. “I’ve always been loyal to you. I didn’t know your college major was a state secret.”

“It’s none of her business.” Garrett had never heard his uncle speak with such venom. “She’s bad news. I’m telling you, she’s here to ruin lives, and if you aren’t careful, yours will be the first.” Dean took a deep breath and blew it out. “I know you like her, or you think you do. But she’s not who you think she is. Sane or not, she’s not the woman for you. She’s here to stir up trouble, and she’s pulling you right in with her.”

“You don’t know anything about her.”

“I know enough. I only want the best for you, son.”

“I’m not your son.” The words slipped out, words he’d never said to this man. He’d always wished he was.

Dean straightened his shoulders, eyes wide.

Garrett couldn’t unsay that. And he wasn’t about to back down because he’d hurt Dean’s feelings. “I love you, Uncle. I do. But Aspen means something to me. I won’t let you poison me against her because you didn’t like her mother. She has every right to ask questions about what happened back then. She’s lost both her parents. It’s logical she wants to know what happened.”

Dean crossed his arms across his broad chest. “So you’re not going to keep your distance from her?”

“No. I’m not.”

Dean nodded slowly. Silence stretched between them until Garrett feared something was about to snap.

And then it did. “If that’s your choice, I guess you’ll be keeping your distance from me.”

If Dean had struck him, it couldn’t have hurt Garrett more. He could think of nothing to say.

So he turned and walked out.

He climbed the steps to the landing and stood there a long time, staring down at the tile beneath his feet. The tile he and Uncle Dean had laid together. Garrett had been an angry fourteen-year-old, fresh from his parents’ house. Dean had taught Garrett how to spread the mortar, how to set the tiles, even how to use the wet saw. Garrett had broken more tiles than he’d laid, but Dean had never once shouted at him. He’d never shown a hint of disappointment.

In that gentle way of his, he’d come alongside and taught Garrett how to lay tile. Then how to grout it. How to build things. How to design things.

He’d taught Garrett what it meant to be a treasured child. He’d taught him how to be a man.

Was their relationship so fragile that it could crumble the first time Garrett defied him?

Maybe his uncle had never loved him at all.

He trudged up to the second floor, only then realizing he was hearing no happy chatter between Deborah and Aspen. As horribly as Dean had behaved, Deborah had been nothing but kind. Why wasn’t she making conversation?

He found her at the sink, washing dishes. He looked around, but Deborah was alone. “Where’s Aspen?”

Deborah turned to him. “She’s not with you? She went to the powder room right after you two walked out. I figured she went to see the workshop.”

“She didn’t come down.”

But even as he said the words, fear churned in his gut.

Had she gone down?

If so, what had she heard?

He peered down the hallway, but the bathroom door was wide open, the light off. He walked that direction, just in case, but Aspen wasn’t there.

He took the half flight back to the coat tree, knowing what he was going to find.

Her coat was gone.