AFTER THE TWO sinks were mounted, Cilla went outside to hunt up her father. She’d kept him off the scaffolding that morning, conning him into “doing her a favor” and painting her shutters.
It looked as if he was having as much fun running the paint sprayer as he had hanging up three stories. “Take a break?” she asked and offered a bottle of water.
“Sure can.” He gave her arm a quick rub. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better since I got to work. Better yet when I stand staring at my counters with a big, sloppy smile on my face. Something occurred to me when I was working with Buddy. How he and his father did some work here. Dobby did, too. I’m wondering who else who’s working here now, or who I didn’t hire, or who’s retired, might’ve worked on the place when Janet had it. Maybe they’re pissed off because I’m changing it. It’s no crazier than Hennessy trying to run me down for something that happened before I was born.”
“I’d have to think about it. I was a teenager, Cilla. I can’t say I’d have paid much attention.”
He took off his hat, ran a hand through his hair. “There were gardeners, of course. The grounds were a showplace. I’ll ask Charlie if he remembers who she had for that. I do remember she had what you’d call caretakers. A couple who’d look after things when she wasn’t here, which was more than not. They’d open the house up when she was expected, that sort of thing. Mr. and Mrs. Jorganson. They’ve both been gone for years.”
“What about carpentry, electrical, painting?”
“Maybe Carl Kroger. He did a lot of handyman work back then. I’ll ask about that, but I know he retired some years ago. Florida maybe. I only remember that because I went to school with his daughter, and I ended up teaching her daughter. I can’t see Mary Beth Kroger-that’s Marks, now-giving you this kind of trouble.”
“It’s probably a stupid idea. Just another straw grasped at.”
“Cilla, I don’t mean to make it worse, or give you more to worry about, but have you considered that whoever’s doing this has a grudge directed at you? You, not Janet Hardy’s granddaughter?”
“For what? I’m a former child star, a failed adult actress who recorded a couple of moderately successful CDs. My only ties to this area were to her, and you. You, Patty and Angie were literally the only people I knew when I came here. And let’s be honest, I didn’t know any of you that well. I’ve dumped a few hundred thousand into the local economy. I can’t see how that would piss anyone off.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s the dolls. It’s such a direct strike at you. More than the vandalism, Cilla. Mutilating those dolls, the child you were, seems so much more personal than the rest.”
She studied him. “Are you here to paint, or to keep an eye on me?”
“I can do both. At least until school starts up. The summer’s flown by,” he said, looking past her. “I’ll miss being around here, the way I’ve been able to. We’ve made a lot of progress since June.”
You and I. She understood the words he didn’t say. “We have. Despite everything, it’s been the best summer of my life.”
FORD WATCHED WHILE Cilla hung shutters her father had painted on the front windows. The scent of the paint hung in the air, along with grass, heat and the dianthus in a big blue pot on the veranda.
“I just want to finish this off. You don’t have to hover.”
“I’m not hovering. I’m observing. There’s something satisfying about sitting on a summer day and watching somebody else work.”
She spared him a glance as he sat, at ease. “You know, I could teach you how to set a few screws.”
“Why would I need to do that when I’ve got you?”
“I’ll ignore that since you bought me that very pretty planter. And the steaks you’ve promised to grill-on the grill I assembled.”
“Corn on the cob, too, and tomatoes fresh from the roadside stand. We’ll have ourselves a feast.”
She tested the shutter, checked it with her level, then moved to the next.
“Before we move to feasting,” he continued, “let’s get less pleasant business out of the way. I went by the Hennessy place this morning. She’s not there,” he added when Cilla glanced back. “Hasn’t been there, according to her neighbor, for a couple of weeks. One supposition is she went down to Petersburg, to be close to the state hospital where they have him. That’s proved out.”
“How do you know?”
“I called the most likely hotels and motels in the area. She’s registered at the Holiday Inn Express.”
“Aren’t you the clever detective?” she replied.
“Taught the Seeker everything he knows. Or vice versa. Anyway, I considered driving down, but it struck me as a waste of time. It’s better than a hundred miles one way, Cilla. It’s hard to believe she’d drive more than two hundred miles, in what had to be the middle of the night, to pose a doll she’d shot in the damn head in your mailbox. If she wanted to get at you, why move herself so far off when she’s got a house twenty minutes away?”
He knew how to put things together, Cilla thought. Into panels that followed a logical line. “I hate that that’s realistic, that it rings true for me. Because it would be easier, simpler, if it was her. If I can’t believe that, I have to know it’s someone else. That someone else hates me.”
She tipped back her cap, idly watched Spock stalking one of his cats in the front yard. “I’m looking at Buddy today because he’s whistling one of my grandmother’s songs, and I’m thinking, Hey, Buddy, did you happen to start a mad, passionate affair with my grandmother one night when you came by to fix a leak? Or, did she maybe reject your advances in a way that causes you to want to hurt me? I went through that same process with Dobby, who is, yes, entirely too old. But he had a son, and his son has a son. And I was just twisted up enough today to wonder if the very affable Jack was spending time shooting my plastic image because of something-anything-that went on with Janet three and a half decades ago. Or maybe my father had a point, and someone took a vicious and pathological dislike to Katie, and seeks to take revenge on me.”
“Your father thinks you’re being threatened by somebody who hates a TV character?”
“No. Not exactly. He suggested whoever’s doing this has some grudge against me, personally. But that doesn’t make any sense, either.” She sighed, lowered the screwdriver. “And because it doesn’t make any sense, none of it, I keep going around in circles, which leaves me dizzy and annoyed. Added to that, I’m going to have dozens of people here in a few days. And I know I’m going to be wondering, even as I pass the potato salad, if that person’s the one. If the person looking at me and smiling, thanking me kindly for the potato salad, would like to shoot me in the head.”
He pushed up, walked to her. “I may have gotten my ass kicked with some regularity as a boy, but that-as my mother liked to say-builds character. The kind of character that means I can say to you, and you can believe me when I say it, nobody, Cilla, nobody is going to hurt you while I’m around.”
“Keeping me from being hurt hasn’t been anyone’s priority up till now. Because of that, I do believe you. I feel safer with you, Ford, than I ever have with anyone.”
He kissed her very gently, eased back and said, “Well?”
“Oh, damn it! I walked right into it. I gave you a damn cue.” She pulled away, picked up her screwdriver. “Look, it’s been a really long day. I just don’t want to get into this now.”
He simply put a hand under her chin, lifted it until their eyes met.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I haven’t made the lists yet.”
He rubbed his thumb over her jawline. “What lists would that be?”
“My lists, for and against. And if you’re going to push at this point, I’ll warn you that I can rattle off a ten-minute monologue of the againsts. The ones I’ve already given you and more.”
“Give me one of the fors.” He tightened his grip when she shook her head. “Just one.”