"I'm glad you're head is better, but I'm thinking that's not what was bothering you this afternoon."
"You're right. It wasn't my head. It was the two men I was with. First, Harold, who seems perfectly nice. He's very kind, but…"
"He doesn't light your fire,” Mavis supplied.
"I guess you could say that. But what was bothering me today was what Marjory said about him."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing specific. It's just a feeling she has, I guess. I know you don't know him, but did Avanell ever say anything?"
"Not much. I know he hasn't lived here that long. Bertrand hired him when their longtime finance guy left suddenly. Avanell was happy Bertie found someone so quickly. He's been active in various community groups. I guess I don't know any more than that."
"Do you know if he's seen any women since he's been here?"
"Avanell didn't say anything about it."
Harriet looked into her tea. “And then there's Aiden. I know you don't think he'd hurt his mother but now that we know what her will says, he does have the most to gain from her death. And apart from that, he's made it very clear he's ready to jump into a relationship. I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship with anyone, much less a man ten years younger than me."
"Just hold on a minute. Are you sure you're looking at this situation right? I raised five boys and I don't mean to be indelicate, but I don't think it's a relationship that boy is hoping to jump into. Specially after three years in Africa. Maybe you're the one who's got relationships on her mind."
Harriet started to speak, but her protest died on her lips.
Mavis went to the sink, dumped the cold remains out of her cup, put a fresh tea bag in and poured hot water over it.
"Age doesn't matter one whit when it comes down to it. My dear Thomas was six years younger than me, and it didn't make a lick of difference. If you've got designs on that boy, you need to figure out whether you can get past his age, but if it were me, I wouldn't be counting my chickens before they were hatched."
A soft warmth crept up Harriet's neck and spread onto her cheeks. “I don't have ‘designs on that boy.’”
"He is a cute little thing, though, isn't he?” Mavis said and smiled.
"He's attractive, he's intelligent, and he has good energy."
"But?” Mavis asked.
"It's just all so much so quick. I haven't spent time with any man for five years, and now suddenly I've got two men calling me up and taking me out to dinners and wanting to go on drives and hikes and out to coffee."
"I imagine it's a little overwhelming. But you know you don't have to take things any faster than you want to, honey. Any man worth having will be willing to take things however slow you need to go. If he isn't willing to put on the brakes, well, then that tells you something right there."
"That's easier said than done. I had a counselor tell me once that my problems stem from an unwillingness to set boundaries. She'd probably think my willingness to let Aunt Beth give me her business without a moment's notice is a prime example of that. And I suppose it's true."
"There has to be a difference between setting boundaries and just rejecting everything out of hand."
"There is. In the case of Aunt Beth's gift, she felt that I needed to make a change and I wasn't going to make it without a boot in the rear end. It happens it might have been the right thing to do. I didn't think so at first, and I'd like to think that if I truly believed coming to Foggy Point is the wrong thing to do I'd leave. But frankly, other than at the hospital, I haven't considered anything but staying here and making a new life for myself."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, ‘specially given what's been happening lately. How about I heat up a couple of frozen dinners and we put on a movie and escape for a while?"
"Sounds good to me,” Harriet said. She was beginning to have a real appreciation for Mavis's well-developed ability to avoid reality.
Chapter Thirty-three
Harriet woke early the next morning but waited until she heard Mavis turn on the shower to pull on her jeans and sweatshirt and slip out the back door into the woods. Carla was already in the potting shed when she pulled the door open.
"How's she doing?” she asked.
"I'm here, too,” Misty said. “Don't act like I'm not."
"She didn't mean anything, Misty. Harriet here is a friend. She got your medicine for you."
"She doesn't care about me,” Misty said. “She just wants what she wants."
"I'm sorry, Misty. I really do want to help you. I just think you can help me, too."
Carla must have arrived just a few minutes earlier; she had a fast food bag in her hand. She dug two white Styrofoam boxes from the bag and handed one to Misty.
"Here, I brought you some breakfast. You might feel better if you eat. It's time to take another pill, too.” She opened her own box and started wolfing the contents.
"I don't want to talk about Miz Jalbert and her family.” Misty wrapped her arms around herself and started to rock. “That family is bad, bad, bad."
Carla opened the top of Misty's box, revealing two pancakes, a pale yellow clump of scrambled eggs and two strips of bacon. A ball of whipped butter slid from the pancakes to the side of the box. She stabbed a white plastic fork into them.
"Try to eat something, okay? I gotta go to work, but I'll come back when I get off.” She pulled a paper-wrapped bundle from the bag and set it on the wooden box that served as a table. “They don't make nothing but breakfast food in the morning, but I got you an egg sandwich you can have for lunch.” She took the pill bottle from the windowsill where Harriet had left it and shook one out into her palm. “Here,” she said and handed the pill to Misty.
She picked up the bottle of water from the floor and held it out. Misty didn't say anything, but she took the pill and swallowed it. This time she did follow up with a long drink of water.
Carla put her empty container in the fast food bag and took it with her as she went to the door. She held the door open, and Harriet realized she was waiting for her to leave, too.
"She should be better by tonight. She'll be more normal when she's been on her medicine for a while, but that don't mean she'll remember everything that happened when she was off it. I mean, she remembers, but she can't tell what was real and what wasn't."
"I have to try to talk to her. I think it's very possible she saw Avanell's murder."
"I liked Miz Jalbert. I hope they catch whoever killed her, but if it depends on Misty, don't get your hopes up too high."
Harriet followed her out of the shed. Carla disappeared down a path, and Harriet went back to the house. She came in just as Mavis emerged from the bathroom.
"My turn?” she asked.
Mavis looked at her. “It's all yours."
Harriet was thankful she didn't ask more.
After her shower, she dressed in her jeans and one of her thrift shop shirts. Mavis was in the kitchen. Harriet watched as she loaded a thermos, two bottles of water and several plastic baggies filled with carrot and celery sticks into a padded carry bag. She started toward Harriet then turned back and grabbed a box of crackers.
"We can't be too good,” she said with a sheepish grin.
The drive to Tacoma seemed shorter this time, but Harriet supposed that was the result of having made it so many times it was becoming familiar. Mavis looked at her watch as they pulled into the show grounds.
"We're early,” she announced. “What do you say we go find a cup of coffee or tea and some kind of pastry? That should give them time to open."
Harriet agreed, and Mavis directed her back out on the highway and off again at the next exit.
"Any exit that has more than two gas stations has to have a coffee shop,” she announced.
She was right.
The show was open when they pulled into the parking lot the second time. They bought their tickets and proceeded to spend the next three hours looking at all the exhibits in great detail. It always amazed Harriet to see the infinite number of ways people could combine color and fabric and thread and stitching to create truly unique works of art.