Now, darkness closed in. I needed lights. I’d turn on every single one, light this mansion up like a Christmas tree, if that’s what it took for me to search room by room. Jeremy might not be here but there could be a clue. A hint.
I’d sell the café for the cost of a cup of coffee in exchange for one of those cryptic notes right now. I welcomed any help.
“Enough.” I pushed off the counter and reached for the flashlight I’d found under the sink earlier. Until I knew which lights worked and which didn’t, I needed to be prepared.
I walked out of the kitchen and through the dining room with the ridiculously long table and flower print on the chairs, on the way to the family room. One step in the cozier space and my head shot up.
I wasn’t alone.
Aubrey stood on the other side of the room, looking both creepy as hell and far too comfortable in this house that didn’t belong to her. She had all the urgency of someone who’d gotten up off the couch to wander around, looking for a snack. She didn’t wear a coat. Just black jeans and a black sweater. The monotone choice would be chic on anyone else. On her? Combative.
If she came looking for a fight, great. I was in the mood for a takedown.
So many questions bombarded my brain. The most obvious... “What the hell are you doing here?”
She smiled. “Hanna, we need to talk.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Stella
I watched from the doorway as Mom paced in front of the fireplace, muttering and gesturing with one hand. Holding a wineglass in the other. Being this animated while alone in a room was odd even for her. She liked to attract an audience. Playing to a crowd of one wasted her talent.
Hours had passed. No news on Jeremy.
I worked. Played with Everly and put her to bed. I’d hoped for a few hours of quiet on the couch. Time to think of a way to help Hanna. It looked like Mom had other plans.
“What are you doing?” I walked in and sat down, digging deep for an ounce of sympathy for all she’d been through since at least one of the questions about Patrick—his whereabouts—had been answered in the worst way possible.
The discovery and identification of his bones had rocked her. We all needed the finality of that moment but it didn’t make the end any less sharp. She’d grown up with Patrick. She’d spent her life making excuses for his personal inadequacies and praising his intellect. Being a cheerleader for the whole Tanner family encompassed a huge portion of her personality. Without the one-step-removed fame she became another older woman who struggled to pay her rent. Nothing fancy about that.
“Everything’s falling apart.” She ended the comment with a flourish that included a glass-draining drink of wine.
Dramatic. Not unexpected but not helpful. “Mom, what’s going on?”
“I promised.” She shook her head. “I didn’t have a choice.”
A sensation like being carved out and hollowed filled my stomach. “About what?”
Her gaze seemed a little hazy, as if she couldn’t see a thing in front of her. Her white-knuckle grip on the fireplace mantel suggested whatever words or visions played in her head terrified her.
“Hey.” I walked over to her. In a bold move so unfamiliar and foreign to our mother-daughter relationship, I put an arm around her shoulders. Drew her body toward mine. Felt the chill in her skin. “Are you okay?”
“What?” She looked around and her eyes appeared to focus. Her gaze skipped to my hand on her arm. “Why are you on top of me?”
And we’re back. That’s the affection-hating mom I knew.
The more I eased away from her, the more my labored breathing returned to normal. Trying to comfort her was the equivalent of scaling a huge mountain that left me shaky and exhausted. My nerves kept misfiring. I reserved spontaneous touching and unconditional love for Everly. Mom had sucked most of it out of me growing up, but I found a well, this unknown reserve, when I held my daughter for the first time.
This time I wrapped my arms around my middle, tight in a ball, not letting the pain in. I’d long ago stopped wishing for the mother I didn’t have. I should have shed the need for her completely by now, but that was a work in progress.
“You were talking to yourself. You seemed—”
“I’m fine.” She straightened, no longer frozen on the edge of an emotional abyss.
I should let it go. Did I really care? The chance of this being an act, one more way for her to chase attention, remained high. Still, with so much unraveling and so much spinning out of control, I needed a quick peek into her mind. Mostly so I had a chance of stopping disaster before it blew up in my face.
“You looked rattled. Did something happen?” I dreaded the answer but asked anyway.
