Father and Child Reunion Part 3. Christine Flynn
think about any of it too much, she just might go out of her mind.
With the house on the market to be sold, keeping it constantly presentable was welcome duty. So she focused on that as she scanned the long counters in the kitchen to make sure there was nothing on them that shouldn’t be. The glass panels in the beige cabinets sparkled, revealing neat rows of dishes and cups. Dried herbs, in muted shades of sage and lavender, hung in fragrant bunches above the window. Copper pots gleamed.
A dozen red gladiolus, still in their clear plastic wrapper, stood in a pitcher of water on the counter. Eve had bought them at the grocery store that afternoon, thinking to replace the bouquet of mums on the dining room table with something more dramatic. Taking a tall crystal vase from the cabinet, she thought of the real estate agent’s comment about how beautifully the house was showing. Eve was doing her best to see that it continued to do so. She just wished she didn’t feel so ambivalent about everything she was doing lately. Every effort she made toward helping the house sell brought her one step closer to losing the only place that had ever truly been home.
That disquieting thought had just joined all the others when she heard the faint knock on the front door. She knew it was Rio. She also knew that ignoring his knock wouldn’t do any good. Even if he went away this time, he’d be back. After all, she’d invited him.
Setting the vase on the counter, she wouldn’t even let herself acknowledge where he fit into the mental mess she was trying to cope with. Her rule of taking one thing at a time had just been reduced to taking things one minute at a time. One second, if need be.
“I figured Molly would be in bed,” Rio said, walking in as soon as she opened the door. He was still wearing the dress slacks and collarless white shirt she’d seen him in earlier, and looking every bit as comfortable in them as he did in faded jeans. The ever-present black cell phone was clipped to his belt. “That’s why I didn’t ring the bell. Is she asleep?”
He wanted to see his daughter. Since he hadn’t seen her in a week, that was understandable.
“I’m afraid she is” was all Eve said, then motioned behind her. “The boxes are in the study. Hal packed up Mom’s personal things when he moved into her office, but he just got around to sending them over. Help yourself.”
Leaving him by the door, she headed back to the kitchen, her sneakers silent on the thick, patterned rug. She had no idea what he thought of her abruptness, but she could feel his glance moving over the back of her blue cotton shirt and faded jeans. When she’d returned after picking up Molly and running her errands, she’d pulled on her work clothes and oiled every inch of the wood on the banisters and newel posts, along with most of the downstairs baseboards. If she couldn’t sleep tonight, she’d finish the rest.
Not until she’d passed through the kitchen doorway did she hear Rio move. When he did, he walked through the foyer and straight into the study.
The vase had been filled with water and she was cutting the ends from the flower stems when she heard movement behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched Rio set three black, vinyl-bound volumes on the counter by the hunter green canisters. Barely meeting his eyes, aware of the curiosity in them, she turned back to slice off another stalk.
“I’d like to take her day planners with me.”
Not at all sure why her hand was shaking, she stood a long stem of bright red gladiolus into the vase beside her. “No problem.”
“The one for this year is missing. Can you find out where it is?”
She looked toward him again, her glance barely skimming his jaw. “I think so. Let me call Hal.”
“You don’t have to do it right now.”
“I don’t mind.”
Rio watched her pick up a dark green towel, thinking to tell her there was really no rush. The call could certainly wait until morning. But seeing her wipe her hands as she headed across the room and snatched up the phone hanging above the counter, he wasn’t so sure it would have made any difference. There was a stiffness to her usually graceful movements that spoke of intense preoccupation; an abruptness that made him think she was focusing only on what she was doing at that very moment and nothing more.
“Hi, Hal. It’s Eve,” he heard her say, her tone making him think she was surprised she’d reached him. “I’m sorry to bother you,” she went on, one arm holding her stomach as she faced a dish cabinet. “But Rio wants Mom’s day planner for this year. It’s not in the box you sent over. Do you know where it is?”
It wasn’t too hard for Rio to guess Hal’s reaction. Especially once she’d mentioned his name. Eve’s whole body went stiff as a plank.
“I know the police are working on it,” he heard her say. “But it can’t hurt to have…”
Hal must have interrupted her. Going silent, she closed her eyes, then proceeded to destroy the smooth line of her hair by shoving her fingers through it while she listened to her brother rant.
Wishing he’d stopped her from making the call, Rio started toward her. He was three feet away when she decided she’d had enough.
“Thank you very much, Hal,” she said, her tone clipped, and hung up.
Her back was still to him when she crossed her arms.
“He said he needs it so he can keep her appointments. It has Mom’s agenda for the rest of the year. He also said to tell you that the sheriff’s already seen it.” Turning, she found him standing behind her. Seeming puzzled to find him there, she scooted right back to the sink.
There wasn’t a doubt in Rio’s mind that Hal had said far more than what Eve had repeated. But she reminded him a little too much of an overwound spring at the moment, so he didn’t ask her what she’d left out. He could pretty much guess, anyway.
Eve hands were always busy, especially when she was nervous or uncertain. But she didn’t continue arranging her flowers as he’d thought she might. Or start fiddling with the towel or wiping an imaginary speck off some already pristine surface. She just stood with her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the night-blackened window.
As he watched her, the wide pane of mirrorlike glass reflected the light haloing her short and slightly disheveled hair, the partially filled vase of spiky crimson flowers, and his own guarded features. He would have felt a whole lot better about whatever was going on with her if she’d started fidgeting with something. The way she held herself so tightly made it look as if she feared she might fall apart if she let go.
“What do you want with the day planners?” she asked, meeting his glance in the window. “Is there something specific you’re looking for?”
He heard the hope in her voice, along with the brittle tension he’d seen in her the moment he walked through the door. When they parted after the luncheon, he’d thought then that she looked a little rocky. At the time, he’d figured that was to be expected, considering the emotional energy giving that speech would have required. She hadn’t bounced back as she usually did, though. That wasn’t like her at all.
Ignoring the self-protective voice that told him to stay where he was, he moved toward her. A lesser person would have broken down long before now. But he knew there was a backbone of solid steel beneath all that softness. The problem with that was that steel didn’t bend or bow with its burdens. When the load became too much, it simply snapped.
“I just want to reconstruct her schedule.” She was looking to him to ease some of the anxiety she carried over her mother’s murder. He hated that there was nothing of substance to tell her. “It’s a long shot, but maybe there’s something the sheriff missed. Some name that’s been overlooked.”
She pulled a steadying breath, seeming too numb to be disappointed. “There are some files in the boxes. Was there anything in them that might help?”
“According to the labels on them, they were for newspaper articles, but the files themselves were empty. I’d say either Hal