Chapter 12
After the men left once again, Morning wandered into her father’s rooms. She didn’t know what had happened to her life, but it was no longer looking as nice as it had.
When her phone rang, she pulled it out, seeing it was her father. For the first time in a long time, she was delighted to answer the call. “Long time no hear from you,” she said in a happy voice.
“Well, considering the last couple times were a little heated,” her father said in a dry tone, “I figured I’d give you time to calm down.”
She laughed. “Yes, you’re right. I wasn’t exactly easy to talk to.”
There was a surprised silence, and she realized how much the last couple phone calls might have affected him.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I keep forgetting to remind myself how much you did to help me over the years. I was so focused on not losing the safe haven this home was to me that, every time you brought up selling it, it terrified me.”
Her father sighed, a heavy one full of a wealth of knowledge. “I know. It’s one of the reasons why I dropped it for the moment. I was hoping eventually you would feel comfortable enough in the world around you that you could move. Instead it just seemed like you became more and more entrenched. Fear is a great teacher. But you still have to push it into its place so you don’t stop living.”
She wandered in his room as they talked. “That’s very apropos right now. I’m prepping for my first-ever art gallery show and am terrified the gallery owner won’t like the work I’ve done.”
“An art gallery show?” her father asked in surprise. “I had no idea.”
She chuckled. “A friend got me the showing, but I have to turn up tomorrow with some of the paintings to give him an idea of what I can do. And I’m terrified.”
“And again, that’s all about putting fear in its place and doing it anyway,” her father said. “And, as much as I love that house you’re living in, I need to move on too.”
She sighed. “Do you want me to sell it?” And again she knew she’d surprised him by his startled silence.
“Are you ready to sell?” he asked cautiously.
“I’m not sure that I am,” she said honestly. “But I am getting to the point where I understand why it might be necessary and why it would be the right thing to do for your sake. I know it’s been my home and also my income, but, at the same time, it might be holding me back from a lot of other things.”
There was approval in his voice when he said, “It sounds like you’re growing up.”
“Well, I am sorry it took so long,” she said apologetically. She sat down on the bed and looked around at his two rooms. “The market is huge right now. I might be able to find a small house out of town and not have a mortgage.”
“That would be great,” he said. “I don’t want you to make any decision right now. But I do need the money. I’m trying to buy property and build a house here, and of course I’d like to marry Leann.”
“It’s about time.” Morning chuckled. “You and Leann have been together for what? Ten years?”
“Not that long. But, yeah, she said she’ll make an honest man out of me.” And then he chuckled loud and long.
Morning smiled. It was good to hear her father laugh. “I can always bring in a Realtor and get an estimate on what the house is worth,” she said impulsively. She could feel her stomach knot at the thought. But she knew maybe it was time. “What I do know is I can’t afford to buy you out, and so maybe this is the next best thing.”
“The problem is, it’s also your income,” her father said sadly. “And that puts me in a tough position. How can a father take away his daughter’s home and her job?”
“Well, at least I’m thinking about it and looking at options. So, if you are okay to wait a bit, give me a little more time, I’ll see what I can come up with for ideas.”
“Absolutely, and Leann wants to know if you’ll fly over for the wedding,”
“When is it?” Her smile reached her eyes.
“September.”
“Good. September, it is.” She giggled. “If I can make that happen, I’ll come.”
“Good enough.” And then her father did something he hadn’t done in a long time. As he hung up, he said, “Remember, I love you.”
She sat on his bed for a long moment, staring at the phone in her hand. It was a sign of how strained their relationship had been in the last year or two, since he had first brought up selling the house. It was always that big white elephant in the conversation between them. And it had set a tone that had made her worry and wonder, but, as long as she didn’t have to examine it too closely, she’d been able to push it away. Now she realized how much it had affected their relationship and how opening the dialogue again had helped heal some of that.
She looked around the room, a room she rarely came into. “Why does it have to be like this?” But, of course, there was no answer.
She got up, left her father’s rooms, locked them and then headed to her studio. She had a new sense of lightness in her step. A new lightness in her heart. She didn’t quite understand how much change this would bring into her world, but she knew now all kinds of things were possible. But it also meant she needed to walk through the door of that gallery tomorrow. This was too important for her. Like Nancy said, it could be a great source of income.
Maybe she wouldn’t have to do breakfast for strangers anymore. Not that she’d minded it, and having the house had been a great opportunity to make some money while she stayed at home and worked on her art. She stepped into the studio, put on her smock and put up a clean blank canvas. She stared at the white surface for a long moment, then shook her head and got a black canvas. She only had a couple of those.
She put it up and stared at it. “I need you to turn out as nice as the others,” she said. “I feel like an idiot, but I’ll offer up a prayer for it to happen anyway.”
And then she grabbed her paints and started. Working from a black background forward was different, but she needed that luminescence from a night scene to come to the forefront. She didn’t quite understand what she was doing until she grabbed white paint and put clouds into a night sky. And painted an early morning light breaking free over the top of them. She painted until her hand fell to her side, exhausted.
She stepped back, looked at it, but, from her extracritical eye, she couldn’t see if it was any good or not. That was always an issue for her. She got too close to her work, and she couldn’t figure it out. But she knew one thing: she was too tired to go on.
She put her paints back in the can, cleaned up her space, took off her smock and headed downstairs. She walked through the house, checked for messages, but nothing was on the answering machine. It had been a long time since she’d had no bookings coming in.
She had some people expected in a week or two, but business had definitely fallen off. She wasn’t sure how or why, but it was a concern if she was staying because the mortgage was pretty hefty and, like her father had said, since he’d cosigned for her, he also carried a portion of the debt.
Walking into the kitchen, she put on a pot of coffee and headed to the fridge to look for food. She pulled out her phone and texted Geir, asking if he was coming for dinner.
“Yes,” Geir answered. “Be there in about two hours.”
She checked the clock, realizing that would put them home at about six. She looked through the freezer for something to cook and found some of her favorite pasta sauce she had frozen. She pulled it out, estimated the amount of sauce, and put on her pasta pot full of water. Once it boiled, she threw in lasagna noodles. Now with the sauce warming while the lasagna noodles cooked, she prepped salamis, brought out the cottage cheese and started grating mozzarella. It only took twenty minutes to throw the whole thing together.
Before long she sprinkled the last of the grated cheese over the top, putting the whole thing in the oven. She still had some romaine lettuce, so she would make a Caesar salad to go with that. She did all the prep work except for the dressing and set it off to one side, waiting for the casserole to cook.
In the meantime, she headed to her office to tackle some paperwork.
When the landline phone in the office rang, she answered it automatically. Nobody was on the other end. She hung up and went back to her paperwork. But it rang again a few minutes later. She picked it up and said, “Hello?”
No answer.
The next time she answered, “This is Blossom’s Bed-and-Breakfast.” When again there was no answer, she asked, “Is this a wrong number?” She thought she could hear heavy breathing but didn’t know what that was all about. She hung up.
When it rang a fourth time, she picked it up in exasperation and said, “Morning Blossom’s Bed-and-Breakfast. How can I help you?”
“You can’t.” A male voice laughed. “Did you like the mouse?” And then the phone went dead.
She dropped the receiver onto the desktop, staring at it like an asp about to strike her. She could feel herself hyperventilating. Finally she pulled out her cell phone and called Geir. Again she didn’t question why she was calling him.
“Are we late?” Geir asked in a teasing voice.
“A man just called,” she said in a rush. “He said something about me not being able to help him and then asked if I liked the mouse.”
Geir was silent on the other end, and she could feel her heart willing him to tell her it would be okay, that all this would go away and that her life would return to normal.
And then he said, “Are you inside?”
“I am.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes, I am. Why?” She walked to the front door. “I’m now standing at the front door.”
“Make sure you have locked the doors. All of them.”
“Damn it, Geir. What does this mean?”
“It means, you’ve been caught up in this web of deceit and lies that I’m in.” His voice was tired and filled with sorrow. “I’m so sorry.”
“Are you sure? Maybe it’s something else.” Panicked, she raced to the kitchen door. “Okay, the front and back doors are locked.”
“And now I want you to carefully go to all the French doors on that bottom floor, like your father’s, then go up to your studio and make sure all the French doors are closed and locked.”
“What about your room and Jager’s room?”
“One at a time, systematically lock all those doors. Do you hear me?”
“I’m back in my father’s room.” She walked to the French doors. And she stopped. “I can’t lock it,” she cried out in the panic.
“Why not?”
“It’s broken. Where are you? I want you home now.”
“We’re on the way. Just hang tight. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes might not be fast enough,” she said in a dark voice.
“Go up to your room and lock yourself in. Stay there until we get there.” And he hung up.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, though she didn’t need the caffeine, considering how hard it was to hold the cup steady, and went to the back staircase and up to her room. But, instead of going to her room, she went to her studio. There she sat down on the overstuffed broken-down chair she kept in there beside the futon. The French doors were open still because of the paint smell. She walked onto the small balcony and stared at her backyard. She hated this. She hated that she didn’t know what the hell she was supposed to do with this darkness, this evil. She shook her head at the term. “Why is this all happening?” But there was no answer to be found in her backyard.
Thankfully nobody was skulking around. She didn’t remember when she’d last checked that lock on her father’s door, but she’d closed it recently, or had she? She cast her mind back, but she couldn’t count on it. It was hard to know exactly what had happened when the days were just a blur.
Part of that was her painting. She’d become so unfocused, or so focused, on her painting that she’d lost track of everything going on around her. And that meant there was a good chance she wouldn’t have heard anybody coming in. She had always left the front door unlocked, but the bells let her know when somebody entered. And that was when she realized that maybe, just maybe, the bells weren’t working. How could she check for sure? She grabbed her phone and called Nancy. “Are you at home?”
“I just got in,” her friend said, sounding tired, her breath coming in puffs.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just unloaded the groceries. Why?”
“I got a weird phone call today, and I’m kind of unnerved by it,” Morning admitted.
“Do you want me to come over?” Nancy asked. “I’m tired, but, hell, you’re just across the street, so it’s not a biggie.”
It was on the edge of her tongue to say, yes, and then she realized that, if something were going on here, she would be putting Nancy in danger. Morning took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to put you out. The guys will be here any minute anyway.”
“Okay, if you’re sure?” she answered. “I don’t mind.”
“No, that’s okay. Did you have a good day?”
“Good enough,” Nancy said. “I did hear back from one of the jobs I applied for.”
“Awesome! Where is it?”
Nancy answered a bit cautiously, “New Mexico. Albuquerque, New Mexico.”
Morning sighed. “That sounds lovely. I sure hate to lose you.”
“Come with me,” Nancy said. “God knows I don’t want to move alone.”
“I don’t know that I’m ready for something like that yet,” Morning said. “I talked to my dad today. And he’s delighted I’m thinking about selling.”
“Are you?”
Morning looked around her studio, thought about everything that had happened in the last few days and how it was letting her drop many of the ties she’d hung on to for so long, ties she’d held so tightly because she was afraid to end up in the situation she’d started out in. “Yes. Finally. And my dad does need the money. I’m not sure exactly where I got the idea it was an option to not sell. I’ve been a very selfish daughter.”
“Well, don’t do anything too rash,” Nancy warned. “You do have some time yet.”
“I do have some time, though I’m not sure how much. He’s getting married again.”
“Oh, wow! To Leann?”
Morning chuckled. “Yes, to Leann. And it’s about time.”
“Where are they getting married?”
“In Switzerland. In September. I’ve been invited to the wedding.”
“That’s a nice olive branch,” Nancy said. “It’s time.”
After Morning hung up, she sat there on the broken-down chair, staring at the paintings. All of a sudden she saw the one she’d been working on—really saw it this time—seeing how the light, the cream, and the white moved through the clouds, as if something almost mystical was behind it. And she realized Nancy was right. Out loud to the empty room, she said, “Yes. It’s time.”
The men bolted from the Jeep and raced to the front door. It was locked. They hit the doorbell several times and waited.
“I told her to lock herself into her room,” Geir said, pulling out his phone. He called her. He couldn’t even begin to express the relief that washed through him when he heard her voice. “We’re at the front door.”
“Really? Did you ring the doorbell?”
“Yeah. Hang on a sec.” He pushed the button several times.
“I’m coming down.”
He looked at Jager. “Her doorbell may have been disconnected inside the house.”
Jager’s gaze hardened. “Sounds like we should be standing watch tonight.”
“I hate to, I do. I don’t want to terrify her any more than she already is.”
Just then the door opened in front of them. But no bells went off. She smiled, hit the doorbell, and, sure enough, she couldn’t hear it right here on the front step. She shook her head. “I think somebody has tampered with my doorbell and the bells that go off when somebody comes in.”
“I’ll check it out,” Jager said.
“Was there some mention of dinner?” Geir asked in a gentle voice, steering her toward the kitchen. He didn’t want her to get more concerned, and he knew Jager would easily find out the source of the problem. In Geir’s mind, he figured it had been cut either upstairs or in the office.
Morning obviously knew what he was doing because she tossed him a fulminating look. “Don’t try to hide anything from me.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Lucky for you, I have to check the oven anyway.” She put on oven mitts and opened the oven door, pulling out a bubbling hot lasagna.
Geir stared at it in awe. “Now that’s a work of art.”
She placed it on top of the stove, turned off the oven, tossed down the oven mitts and grabbed a big wooden board. “Only for a hungry man.” Then she put on her oven mitts again, grabbed the lasagna and placed it on the board.
When he saw the Caesar salad, he asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You’re on the side where the dishes are. Bring out enough for the three of us.”
“Did you ever hear from the other couple?”
She looked up and smiled. “They phoned. They got an emergency call. They couldn’t find me, as I was in the studio. Anyway, they packed up and left this morning, went straight to the airport. He said to go ahead and charge their credit card for the extra night.”
Jager grinned. “At least they called.”
She shrugged. “The thing is, people travel. And when you leave home, things can happen. It’s fine. I’m not out money. At least they did the right thing.”
He gave that one to her. “Good point. What are there, ten million people here?” he joked. “I swear to God they were all out driving on the roads today.”
She chuckled. “Right?”
Just then Jager walked in. He took one look at the lasagna and whistled. “Man, am I ever glad we stayed here.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do meals, remember? Just breakfast. Hence the name, bed-and-breakfast.”
“Sure, but, now that I know, anytime I’m in San Diego, I definitely want to stay here.”
She smiled. “Thank you, that’s very nice.”
She served up dinner for the three of them, giving the men each a piece twice as big as her own, and then motioned toward the Caesar salad she had mixed up with dressing and parmesan. “Dig in. As you can see, there’s lots.”
It took them a bit to get through the plate of hot bubbling lasagna, but Geir had to admit it was well worth taking the time.
When he was almost done, she asked, “Did you find anything at the hideaway?”
Geir nodded and explained about the message on the wall and the journal. “We did call the cops, and we did meet with the detective. That’s where we were when you called me.”
She sighed. “The world really sucks, doesn’t it?”
“It does sometimes, yes,” Geir said. “But right now, we’re inside. We’re safe. We have a hot meal. That’s more than a lot of folks have.”
She nodded.
As soon as they were finished, Geir and Jager got up to do dishes, and Morning put on the teakettle, bringing out leftover mini-cheesecakes.
Geir eyed them and, with a happy sigh, said, “Oh, yum.”
She chuckled. “They’re easy to keep around, and they’ll last for a week.”
“Not when we’re here,” Jager said, grabbing one with a big smile.
As they sat down again, she turned to Geir. “So, what’s next?”
He sighed. “We’ll have four-hour watches through the night and see if your tormentor comes back.”
She drummed her fingers on the tabletop as she watched and waited, as if thinking heavily about his proposition. “When are you two planning on leaving?”
“We’ve made progress. If we can nail Poppy, then we’ll be very happy. But, if we can’t, I’m not sure how long we’re staying.”
“Mason said three nights. Tonight is the third.”
Both men nodded. “It’s possible we’ll stay a fourth night.” Geir knew what she would say. “You’re right. That’s not any comfort, knowing we won’t be here to protect you.”
She looked up, smiled at him and said, “Then you’ll just have to solve this problem before you leave, won’t you?”
Geir snorted. She had completely surprised him.
She stood, scooped up their small cheesecake dishes, rinsed them and loaded them in the dishwasher. “I have some office work to do. If you need me, I’ll be in there.” She turned and walked away.
Geir stared at Jager. “She’s taking it better than I thought she would.”
Jager shook his head. “Or it hasn’t set in yet. Or maybe it’s set in, but she hasn’t quite figured out how it pertains to her. Or she has a very cool, controlled exterior, and right now she’s bawling her eyes out in the office.”
At that, Geir stared at Jager. “Is that likely?” Straining his ear, he heard something in the distance. His shoulders sagged. “Yes, that’s exactly what she’s doing.” He got up and said, “Back soon.”
Jager chuckled. “Yeah, sure you will.”
Geir gave him a hard look. “What does that mean?”
“It means, you’re already a goner, and you don’t even know it. RIP.”
Geir stared at him for a moment as he considered Jager’s words. “Long-distance relationships don’t work.”
“Then maybe you should know what Nancy told me. When I took her home, she mentioned that Morning and her father both own the house and he’s been trying to get her to sell it for a while. He needs his money, and Nancy doesn’t think it’s a good place for her.”
“Why not?”
“Something to do with being too safe.”
Geir thought about that as he walked toward the office. This house wasn’t as safe anymore. He entered her office to find her face buried in her hands, the lights off, as she stood beside her desk. No way he could do anything but walk over and wrap his arms around her and hold her close.