I laughed. “But you ended up being really close.”
He stroked his beard and stared at something just beyond my right shoulder that only he could see. “We did. Cy was bossy as all get-out but he always had my back.” His focus came back to me. “What about you, Kathleen? Do you boss around that younger brother and sister of yours?”
“Every chance I get,” I said with a grin.
There was a knock on the door then. “Pops, are you here?” a voice called.
Mariah. She came into the room and stopped short when she caught sight of me. “Oh. Uh. Hi,” she said. She looked at her grandfather. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I was just about to head out anyway.”
“How did you make out at the library?” Harrison asked his granddaughter. “Did you find any of those people we talked about in the old yearbooks?”
Mariah shrugged. “Some. I need to go back and look some more.”
Harry came to the doorway. “There’s gingerbread in the kitchen,” he said to his daughter. “You can go get a piece.”
“Okay. Thanks, Dad,” she said.
“If you want some of the really old yearbooks, let me know,” I said. “And I’ll dig them out for you.”
“Um, yeah, maybe,” she said. “Thanks.” She escaped to the kitchen.
Harrison had gotten to his feet and I wrapped my arms around him in a hug. “Thank you for dinner. And I’m sorry I stirred up something that was none of my business.”
“You don’t have to be sorry, girl,” he said. “We cleared the air a little. No way that’s bad.”
“I’ll walk Kathleen out and I’ll be right back,” Harry said. He narrowed his gaze at his father. “And you don’t need another piece of that gingerbread.”
“I didn’t say I was going after another piece. I’m just going to the kitchen to keep my granddaughter company,” the old man said. Then he winked at me.
Harry and I headed out, across the gravel driveway to my truck. “I was wrong to put you on the spot about Leo,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Mia’s a good kid. You’re trying to figure out who killed her grandfather. I can’t fault you for that,” Harry said. “Besides, I was acting like the hind end of a horse, as the old man would say. I think we’re good.”
We said good-bye and when I got to the bottom of the driveway I stopped and checked my phone. There was a text from Susan saying they had closed early because a squirrel on a power pole knocked out power to the library. I thought it was odd Mariah hadn’t mentioned that, but it probably hadn’t seemed like a big deal to her.
• • •
Maggie and I were standing in the computer area the next afternoon trying to decide exactly where and how we were going to display the framed photos from the post office, when Simon walked into the building. He looked in my direction.
“I think he wants to talk to you,” Maggie said. She pulled a tape measure out of her pocket. “Go ahead. I need to check a couple of things.”
“I’ll only be a minute.” I walked over to Simon. “Hi,” I said.
He smiled. “Hi. I’m sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to ask if I can take you up on your offer to come with me when I talk to Celia Hunter?”
“Of course,” I said.
“We’re meeting at five thirty at the bar at the St. James. Will that work for you?”
I nodded. Owen and Hercules would be all right if I was a bit late getting home. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Thanks. Just put this on my tab.”
He headed for the door and I rejoined Maggie.
She was measuring the width of the wall in front of her. “I think this is going to work,” she said. “I’m going to do a sketch and try to figure out the layout.” Maggie was meticulous bordering on obsessive when it came to displaying her work. I knew whatever she came up with for the display would show off the photos at their best.
“Before I forget, I’m going to miss class tonight,” I said.
“Are you trying to get out of Push Hands?” she teased.
I shook my head. “No. I have to help Simon with something. Getting out of Push Hands is just a bonus.”
Mags laughed. “We’ll miss you.” She made a tiny notation on the drawing of the wall she’d just made. “You’d make a great mom,” she said.
I frowned at her. “How did you get from Push Hands to I’d make a great mom?”
“You’re trying to figure out who killed Simon’s father because you care about Mia. You’ve gotten really close with her.”
I nodded. “I have. Leo and her father were all she had. Now all she has is Simon. My parents may have been a little out there but I always had them and Sara and Ethan. I can’t imagine life without them.”
Maggie folded the piece of paper. “That’s because you’ve always had them. You’d miss your mother telling you to follow your heart but stand up straight while you’re doing it. You’d miss your dad as the dancing raisin no matter how embarrassing it was.”
Maggie’s father had died when she was four. She almost never talked about him. She smiled. “It’s good that Mia has you to talk to.”
“You wouldn’t believe the things she knows,” I said. “It’s like her head is a giant encyclopedia.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. And I wouldn’t have any experience with someone like that.”
I got to the hotel just before five thirty. Simon was waiting for me just inside the lobby. Melanie Davis was at the front desk and lifted a hand in hello. We’d originally met just a few weeks after she’d taken the manager’s job, when I’d had to collect an intoxicated Burtis and Marcus’s father from the bar, where they were entertaining the customers with their vocal skills.
It was quiet in the bar. Simon chose a table near the windows. He ordered club soda with lime and I had the same. We’d been seated about five minutes when Celia Hunter arrived. She wore a long two-tone charcoal-and-dove-gray cardigan with a matching charcoal sweater underneath and black trousers. She seemed to hesitate for a moment but then she crossed the room to join us.
Simon got to his feet. “Mrs. Hunter, I’m Simon Janes,” he said. “You already know Kathleen.”
Celia took the hand he offered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She turned to me and dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Hello, Kathleen,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
“I asked her to join us,” Simon said smoothly, holding a chair for the older woman. He had lovely manners. “I thought you’d feel more comfortable since we’re strangers.” He smiled.
“Well . . . thank you,” Celia said. She took the seat and set a black leather purse on the table. Simon sat down as well. I’d brought Celia’s scarf with me and I handed it across the table to her. “Thank you,” she said. “I intended to get to the library yesterday but the day got away from me.”
She set the scarf next to her purse and turned to Simon. “As I told you on the phone, I don’t want to cause you any more grief, but this is probably one of the last letters your mother wrote and . . . and I thought you might like to see it.”
Simon’s face was unreadable. “I appreciate that,” he said.
Celia opened her purse and pulled out a pale pink envelope. The paper had faded and the side folds were almost worn through. Even hidden behind the wall for so many years, time had taken its toll. The top of the envelope had been slit with a letter opener. Simon pulled out two sheets of folded paper and unfolded them. Silently he read what was written and then handed the two pages to me without a word.
I handled the paper carefully. It was dry and a little brittle, especially the right edge of the second page. I could see how the pages hadn’t been folded evenly. The right edge of the second page hadn’t lined up behind the first and because of the slit in the side of the envelope the edge was more faded and brittle than the rest of the paper.