morning’s comment had thrown Johnny for a loop. He and his grandfather had a cordial relationship. Not a deep one.
“You know I would have taken you in when you lost your mother if I could have.” His grandfather glanced up at him briefly with glistening eyes, and then away to his faithful companion as if embarrassed. “See, your grandmother... Well, Dottie couldn’t accept that her daughter...her only child, had made so many bad decisions.”
Johnny had never understood why he’d had to go into foster care. Why his grandparents had never taken him in. When he’d tried to broach the topic years ago, Buddy had changed the subject. Perhaps when Johnny had come to stay with his grandfather a decade ago—a few months after his grandmother had died—he hadn’t yet been ready to open up.
“I appreciate you letting me crash here now. That’s what counts.” Johnny struggled to get the words out without revealing emotion. He had gotten good at that over the years.
His grandfather had a distant look in his eyes. “I should have insisted we take you in when you were just a young boy. It wasn’t right what we did to you.” Regret rolled off him in waves and crashed on Johnny, pounding him with his own list of shoulda-coulda-wouldas. “Your grandmother was in so much pain and seeing you was a reminder of everything we had lost. I thought...”
Johnny put his hand on his grandfather’s shoulder as if to say, “It’s okay,” since the words got clogged in his throat. He took a moment to compose himself. “As far as anyone else is concerned, I’m in town to help you move. Only the local police are aware of the drug investigation.”
And Ellie knew, but he didn’t want to get into that yet with his grandfather. Part of him was glad she knew. He wanted to be honest with her. Not hide behind his usual cloak of some fake identity.
As long as she was deserving of his trust.
“I don’t want to leave this old place. Where would I go?” The lost look in his grandfather’s eyes cut through him. “And what about Duke?” Buddy patted the dog’s back. “Maybe it’s time you moved on, son. There’s plenty of crime in Buffalo, right?” Buddy’s mouth slanted into a sad, lopsided grin.
“Yes, I’m afraid there is. But I need to be here.”
“I’m afraid we’ll never find peace. No matter what. Mary Claire’s death was senseless.”
Johnny jerked his head back.
“Don’t look at me like that. You know what I mean. You’re trying to fix a wrong that can’t be fixed.”
“If I can save one kid, it’ll be worth it.”
“Make sure you don’t lose yourself in the process.” Buddy stood and approached Johnny. He tapped his grandson’s cheek.
Nostalgia made his gut ache. He wished the years of hurt hadn’t bent his grandfather’s once-tall stature.
Johnny found himself studying the overgrown tree roots pushing through the plush grass. “I have plans later this afternoon, but I thought we could start by going through the closets in the bedrooms this morning.”
“I don’t need you to be creating projects for me. I had had a lifetime of honey-do lists from Dottie.” His grandfather gave him a hard smile and looked up at the large Victorian.
Johnny recalled his mother’s grumbling about her childhood, always painting a far different picture. Johnny couldn’t reconcile this beautiful home and his friendly grandfather with the dark childhood Mary Claire Rock had described. His mother had been an angry woman.
“I’m not ready to move. Your grandmother and I had so many hopes when we first moved in...” Buddy’s voice trailed off. Not all their hopes had been realized.
“I know.” That was only partially true. Johnny had no idea what it would be like to have roots so deep. Johnny had no idea what it meant to have roots at all. His mother had always kept them on the move. And foster care had added to his sense of instability.
Would any place ever feel like home?
* * *
Later that day at the grand opening of the gift shop, Ashley came up behind Ellie and cupped her shoulders.
Ashley whispered into her ear, “Are you looking for something?”
Ellie sucked in a quick breath, trying not to overreact to her friend’s stealth approach from behind. Doesn’t she realize that that’s the last thing you did to a person who had recently been attacked in this very same location?
At this rate, Ellie was going to be terrified to enter the storage room of her gift shop.
Heart racing in her ears, Ellie glanced down to see a stuffed mushroom with a bite out of it pinched between Ashley’s expensively manicured fingertips. The offending food hovered inches away from the sleeve on Ellie’s new pink dress. A definite splurge for a poor, new business owner.
Ellie pivoted away and forced a smile. She grabbed a towel off the edge of the sink and dried her hands. “Thanks for unpacking these boxes.” She figured that was better than asking her friend why she couldn’t have taken the time to collapse the boxes for recycling. “How much longer did you work this afternoon after I left?”
Ashley frowned and seemed to notice for the first time the boxes discarded in an unorganized heap in the corner.
Ellie noted the shadow darkening the surface of her friend’s eyes; a confused look she had perfected when she either didn’t want to give an answer or when she truly didn’t know the answer.
Ashley popped the stuffed mushroom into her mouth and blinked a few times. “I didn’t unpack those boxes,” she said around a mouthful. She peeked into one of the open boxes. “They’re not empty. Maybe you started to unpack them and forgot in your whirlwind.”
Had she? Ellie fiddled with her bracelet. It didn’t seem likely. She might be frazzled, but forgetful?
“Did you lock the door when you left? Set the alarm?” Ellie knew she shouldn’t have left before Ashley, but her friend had insisted on waiting for Tony and Ellie’d had a hair appointment she hadn’t wanted to be late to.
Ellie tried not to let her mind jump to the worst possible scenario. Was someone searching for something? She was determined to control her rioting emotions. A few guests had already filtered into the shop. She shouldn’t be wasting time in the storage room. She had only run back here to wash her hands.
“Of course, I locked the door.” Ashley shrugged, sweeping her long blond hair over one shoulder and combing her fingers through it much like a person holding a kitten and stroking its fur. Ashley had done this for as long as Ellie could remember: first with a long braid in kindergarten and then with her smooth, flat-ironed locks in high school.
“And the alarm?” Ellie frantically searched her memory. She had been too stressed and distracted when she’d arrived at the shop this evening to remember if she had turned off the alarm or not.
Ashley shrugged again. “Not the alarm.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “It was the middle of the day.” One corner of her mouth turned up. “What? You think someone broke in here and messed up a few boxes?”
“I
