Moments later Fay joined her. She sat in the chair beside Bree then opened her purse and took out a cigarette. She lit it and blew a circle of smoke in the air.
“Smoking isn’t good for the baby,” Bree said, knowing Fay wouldn’t care if she spoke her mind.
“I’m not about to give up my life for this baby,” Fay said. Her gaze roamed the room.
Such disregard for her baby’s well-being made Bree want to get up and walk away. “Aren’t you happy about it?” she asked.
Fay shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. Ask me again after it’s here and I can tell whether the changes are good or bad.”
A movement across the empty room caught Bree’s attention. The side door opened, and a man stepped in. Bree had never seen him, though he reminded her of someone. Then she realized he looked like a younger version of the pictures she’d seen of Elvis before booze and drugs had marred his good looks. Though “the King” had died when Bree was a child, she’d been fascinated by articles she had read about him in old Modern Screen and Photoplay magazines she’d found in the back of her mother’s closet.
The same petulant expression crossed this man’s face as he scanned the room from his partially hidden position in the curtains. When his gaze settled on Fay, the smoldering look deepened, and he swaggered across the room toward Fay as though adoring fans screamed along the sidelines. Fay saw him approach and scowled. He stopped in front of her and stood with his hands on his hips, looking down at her.
“You said you’d meet me at nine.” The man made no attempt to lower his voice.
“What are you doing here, Eric?” Fay hissed. “Get out before Steve sees you. He’s already asking questions.”
“Then tell him the truth!”
“Don’t tell me what to do. We’re playing this my way.” Fay ground out her cigarette on the floor and stood to walk away.
Eric grabbed her arm. “You think you can snap your fingers and I’ll follow at your heels. Don’t make that mistake. I’m not a lap dog like your husband.”
“Take your hands off me.” She jerked her arm away, but he grabbed it again.
Bree rose, and Eric glared at her. An older man materialized from the main hall. Bree recognized him as Fay’s uncle, Lawrence Kukkari.
“This man bothering you, Fay?” he asked.
“No, he’s just leaving,” Fay said. “I’ll meet you later,” she said softly to Eric. “Now please leave before Steve comes looking for me.” She smiled prettily, but Eric’s scowl just deepened.
“I won’t wait forever, Fay.”
“I’ll meet you later,” Fay whispered. “Please, don’t make a scene.”
“One hour. Then I come looking for you again.” With a muttered oath, Eric spun on his heels and stalked away.
Bree’s gaze followed him as he made his way through the crowd. Kade Matthews put out a hand to intercept him, and Eric stopped to talk to him. Bree frowned as she saw them talking. Kade appeared to be as angry as Eric. At one point he stabbed his finger in Eric’s chest for emphasis. How did he know this guy?
Lawrence’s voice drew her attention back to Fay. “You know better than to get mixed up with him again.”
“Don’t start, Uncle.” Fay’s voice was soft with weariness. “I don’t meddle in your private life, and I don’t want you meddling in mine.”
The scowl on Lawrence’s face eased. “Very well. Have you thought any more about the new offer for the mine? Mr. Simpkins wants an answer.”
“I told you, I’ve already agreed to sell the mine to Palmer Chambers.”
“You’re throwing away a hundred thousand dollars!” Lawrence’s voice rose.
Bree looked around for a place to slink away. Being in the middle of someone else’s argument felt awkward. Unfortunately, Lawrence blocked her path to escape.
Lawrence glanced at Bree and lowered his voice as he continued to argue his case with his niece. “Take this offer, and you’ll have enough money to leave Steve and this hick town and start fresh.”
“I think you’re more concerned with your share than with my happiness,” Fay said. “Let’s not talk about this anymore. I don’t want to be mixed up with mobsters from New York, and I sure don’t want them traipsing around my mine. I don’t trust them, and I do trust Palmer.”
“If you force my hand, I’ll tell Steve everything.”
Fay laughed, but the tinkle was gone. “What will you tell him, Uncle Lawrence? That I married him for his money and now that it’s gone I’m splitting? He already knows why I married him. But in spite of your high opinion of me, I’m not leaving him. Not now. Things have changed. I’ve got a baby to think about.” She slung her purse over one shoulder and moved away.
“You can’t do this!” Lawrence shouted after her.
Fay just waved a hand over her head and kept going. Lawrence shook himself, his face a mask of bewilderment. He saw Bree staring at him and scowled then stalked off. “She’s going to get me killed,” he muttered.
Fay’s covert exchanges were too complicated for Bree to think about. She would find Naomi and head for home. Fay could work out her own problems.
The next morning Bree woke in time to watch the sun break free of the horizon. In Bree’s mind, Sunday morning should be time spent leisurely over a plate of eggs and bacon, but as she surveyed the contents of her refrigerator, she knew her kitchen couldn’t produce such a repast: a near-empty tub of margarine, half a bottle of water, a plate of week-old salmon patties covered in a suspicious moldy tint that could be seen even through the pink plastic wrap. The lone apple in the produce drawer looked more like a prune.
“Nothing fit to eat here, Samson. You want to go out for breakfast?” He barked and ran to the door. “I guess that’s a yes.” She slipped into her jacket and hooked the leash to his collar. By the time she finished breakfast, Fay should be along for coffee.
Stepping outside into the cool morning air, she and Samson set off at an energetic clip toward Suomi Café, four blocks down Houghton Street. Two blocks in, she tugged on Samson’s leash and slowed their pace to enjoy the walk. No one was stirring this early, but Bree thought everyone should see the radiant blue of the sky. The fog bell out in the harbor was tolling, and the blue that was Lake Superior glinted briefly between the houses lining the water. Another altogether glorious day in paradise.
Some would laugh at her for describing snow country as paradise, but then they likely had never smelled the cold freshness of pollution-free air or watched a white blanket of snow cloak everything in clean, pristine beauty. Bree couldn’t imagine a better place on earth. A colorful autumn day like this offered a glimpse of perfection.
Rock Harbor, population twenty-five hundred if you counted Anu’s chickens, couldn’t be more picturesque. From the first moment Bree set foot on the volcanic soil of Michigan’s western Upper Peninsula, she knew she’d come home. The Victorian storefronts looked the same as they did in century-old photographs. That fact had always been a comfort to Bree, but especially in the previous year. She’d had too many changes in her life.
Nestled at the base of Quincy Hill, Rock Harbor’s three-block downtown area could have come straight from a child’s storybook. The town’s major businesses lined Houghton Street, which was intersected by Jack Pine Lane and Pepin Street. To stroll the village streets was to step back in time. Even the corner butcher showed a marked resemblance to Barney Fife. With the recent influx of tourists, many store owners were busy sprucing up and painting the storefronts with cheerful schemes that reminded Bree of San Francisco row houses. From her lighthouse tower, she could look down on the town and marvel at its perfection.
Suomi Café overlooked Lake Superior from its perch on the steep slope of Kitchigami Street. Named for the Finnish word for Finland, the humble café offered no exterior hint of the culinary delights inside. Just thinking of the possible menu choices made Bree’s mouth water.
She quickened her step and had almost reached the café entrance when a squawk came from over
head. Bree looked up as a starling flew down at her. She ducked, suppressing a scream and barely avoiding the dive-bombing bird. The bird peeled around and came at her again.
“What’s the matter with you, stupid bird?” Bree waved her arms, trying to frighten it away. She liked birds fine as long as they stayed in the trees. This one must be psychotic. It dived at her a third time, and she turned quickly for the door. Samson whined then barked at the bird before following Bree inside the restaurant.
She tousled her hair to make sure there were no feathers in it. The head waitress, Molly, a full tray in her skinny arms, nodded to her. In her forties, Molly was a whirlwind of activity every time Bree came in. It was no wonder she carried not an ounce of spare flesh on her thin frame.
Molly set the steamy plates before her customers then stopped beside Bree. “You look wild-eyed, kid. Why’s your tail in a knot this morning, eh?” she quipped as she patted Samson’s head. Having received his welcome, Samson went to lie down at the door.
“Some stupid bird was after my hair. It’s hanging around outside your café.”
Molly grinned. “Other customers have been complaining too. I think it’s someone’s pet. It landed on my shoulder this morning and took some crumbs right from my hand.”
“Well, they ought to keep it home then!” Bree glanced around the restaurant. “The place looks packed this morning.”
Every booth and table was taken. Bree looked over the pastry case. Suomi’s specialty was pulla, a Finnish sweet roll made with sourdough bread that Bree was particularly fond of. But she didn’t really want to take it back home. She’d spent too much time alone lately.
“It’s usually not this busy until later. You might see if there’s anyone willing to share a table,” Molly said before hurrying off to the kitchen.
Bree glanced around the restaurant again. Fay sat in a corner booth with her elbows on the table. She caught Bree’s eye and motioned to her. Today Fay looked like a fifteen-year-old on her way to school, her hair casually windblown and her pale complexion devoid of makeup. A backpack even lay at her feet. An ashtray holding two cigarette butts sat next to a cup of coffee between Fay’s elbows.
Molly scurried by with a cup of coffee for Bree and a plate of half-eaten eggs for Samson. “For our hero,” she said.
“You look a little green,” Bree told Fay. “Try eating some toast or crackers.”
“How long does this last?” Fay moaned. “I don’t have time to be sick.”
“Going climbing again today?” Bree asked, pointing toward the backpack. Though the U.P. didn’t offer world-class mountains, there were some pretty good cliffs in the area.
“I might as well, if I can muster the energy. Steve is working, and I’m bored.” Fay fiddled with one of the distinctive gold hoops that adorned her ears. Then she dropped her hand and sighed.
“Are you sure it’s safe for you to climb?”
Fay grimaced. “I told you last night, I’m not going to change my life for this baby. I’m still me. The doctor said I could do whatever I’m used to doing.”
Bree felt a twinge of guilt for the judgment in her question. No need to dig her hole any deeper. “Have you remembered anything more about the cabin and the airplane seat?”
Fay scowled. “No. Steve and I had another fight last night, and I didn’t get a chance to think about it. Give me a few days. If there’s anything worth remembering, it will come to me.”
So the story about the woman and the airplane seat was just a bid for attention. Bree doubted the same could be said of Fay’s encounter with Eric the night before. Bree had a feeling she should know something about Eric, something she’d read or heard. She wanted to ask Fay about him, though it was none of her business. She decided against it.
They drank their coffee and talked about last night’s party, carefully skirting the arguments Bree had overheard. Fay kept glancing at her watch and fidgeting. Finally, she stubbed out her fourth cigarette and rose. “I’d better get going. I hope you find something.”
Fay’s diffidence made Bree second-guess whether she really did know something about Rob’s plane. Her usual mode was high drama, and this understated comment seemed out of character.
Fay stepped into the aisle and right into Palmer’s path. He stopped abruptly. “Just who I was looking for. I have the papers ready for you to sign. Is it okay if I drop by tomorrow night?”
Fay nodded. “I suppose so. We’ll be around.” Her voice seemed lackluster, and Bree wondered if it was just her morning sickness or if she wished she wasn’t selling the mine. Did Fay and Steve need the money?
She moved past him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a cliff calling my name.”
Palmer winked at Bree then joined two men at the back table.
“I’ll come with you,” Bree told Fay impulsively as she started to walk away. “We can talk while we hike.” Though climbing was out of the question for Bree, they could talk on the way.
Fay shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I really need some alone time this morning.”
Fay could be as immovable as a thirty-foot jack pine, and her obstinate expression warned Bree to let it go. The thought crossed Bree’s mind that Fay was adamant because she was meeting someone, maybe Eric.
“Sorry to be a pest,” Bree said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Fay gave her a distracted smile before she hurried out the door.
Molly appeared at Bree’s table. “Fay is upset, eh? She looked like she’d been crying when she came in.” Molly’s speech was typical of a Yooper. A blend of Finnish and Canadian cadence and an accent that Bree found charming.
Bree picked up a menu. “You know Fay. No one understands her moods.”
Molly sniffed and nodded. “What will you have, eh? The panukakkua just came out of the oven.”
Panukakkua. The thought of the custard pancake dripping with hot raspberry sauce brought a Pavlovian response from Bree. The pulla would wait. “You know my weakness,” Bree said, nodding. “And more coffee.”
“You got it.” Molly tucked the order pad in a pocket of her apron and went to the kitchen.
Moments later Hilary rushed up to Bree’s table with Mason in tow. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I knew I’d find you here. You’re as predictable as an atomic clock.” She dropped a newspaper onto the table. A picture of Bree and Samson stared back at Bree from the front page of the Kitchigami Journal. “Just the publicity my office can use!” she crowed. “It even mentions you’re the mayor’s sister-in-law.”
Bree looked at the paper but didn’t pick it up. Newspaper articles were nothing new to her and Samson. Something of a nuisance, actually.
Hilary and Mason sat down. “Where are you searching next?” Hilary asked.
“I’m starting a new sector, west of the gorge.”
Mason cleared his throat. “We need to attend to the debriefing for yesterday’s search as well. I thought you might come by yesterday. What can you tell me?”
She’d meant to but had forgotten all about it. Glad to get Hilary off the search topic, Bree told Mason of the clues they’d followed, the areas they’d searched, and how they had found the children. Molly brought Bree’s breakfast and coffee. Mason took notes in backward looping letters simple enough for a grade-school kid to read.
Ten minutes later Hilary tapped her fingernails on the table. “Are we about done? We’re going to be late for church if we don’t get going.” Gathering her purse, she slid from the seat and waited for her husband.
Mason shrugged. “I reckon we are now. Call me if you think of anything else, Bree, eh?” He nodded to Bree and followed his wife out of the café.
Bree lifted her cup and took a gulp. Hilary was happy with her now, but it wouldn’t last long. Nothing would satisfy her but for Bree to find little Davy and Rob so they could all move on. Sometimes she felt stuck in an old black-and-white episode of Twilight Zone, facing a life that had been twisted by her own hands into something unrecognizable.
She shivered and looked at the panukakkua. It was cold.
5
Outside, the autumn sunshine lifted Bree’s spirits. She’d better enjoy it while she could. Once winter hit, days of sunshine would be replaced by gray clouds. On her way to the hospital, she passed folks raking leaves and mulching flower beds. Rock Harbor Hospital, catty-corner from Siltanen Piano Repair, was an unimaginative square brick building that didn’t do justice to its setting. Manicured grounds at the rear of the facility swooped down to a peaceful beach. Bree pointed to a blazing red-leafed tree close to the rear entrance and told Samson to stay. He sat obediently while she went inside.
Emily was flipping through TV channels when Bree poked her head into the room. “Hi, sweetheart. Remember me?”
Emily’s face brightened. “Bree! I was just thinking about you. Where’s Samson?”
“He’s waiting for you in the garden.” Bree turned off the TV and glanced at the other bed. Timmy’s small face was turned into the pillow, and a slight snore issued from his nose. “How’s your brother?”
“Okay. I get to go home when Daddy gets off work.” The little girl bit her lip. “I asked Daddy to stay with us today, but he said he didn’t get inventory finished yesterday because of my sen . . . sh . . . shenanigans. I think he’s still mad at me.”
The plaintive note in Emily’s voice touched Bree’s heart. “He’s just glad to get you home,” she said. “But I’ll keep you company for a while. The nurse says it would be okay for me to take you down to the garden to visit with Samson. Would you like to do that?”
“Sure!” Emily hopped from the bed.
Bree found Emily’s fuzzy raccoon slippers under the bed. “Let’s hope these raccoons don’t lead you into trouble like the last ones.”
Emily’s cheeks flushed. “I won’t do that again,” she said. She tiptoed to Timmy’s bed and touched his head. “I’ll be back in a little while, Timmy,” she whispered.
Her brother just muttered in his sleep. Though his lashes fluttered on his cheeks a bit, he didn’t awaken.