“Whatever you’re making smells great,” says Braedon.
“That would be my famous pancake sandwich. One big sausage patty between two pancakes and the whole thing smothered in butter and maple syrup. They’re your dad’s favorite. And what’ll you be washing your pancake sandwich down with? Orange juice? Coffee? Milk? A cuppa? Isn’t that what you call it in Ireland?”
“Yes,” says Braedon. “But orange juice, please.”
“The prince has awoken!” This from Carol as she enters the room carrying a bouquet of fresh-picked flowers from the garden. She has perfect silver hair that falls to her shoulders, long and thick and bright like metal. Soft green almond-shaped eyes in browned skin from her hours in the garden and on the river. “For you, my liege,” she says, handing Braedon a daffodil.
Braedon can’t help but laugh. “Thank you.”
“I got Marty opening up the shop this morning, so I figure you and I might find something fun to do.”
“Yeah,” says Braedon. Although he barely knows Sue and Carol (he’s met Sue a few times at the police station and Carol a few times at the fly shop), he feels like he belongs in their home. Both women were and maybe still are surrogate mothers to his father, and that makes them surrogate grandmothers to Braedon. That’s where the belonging feeling comes from. Sue and Carol are like family. When you meet a relative for the first time—evenat the age of eleven or twelve or thirty-five, there’s an immediate comfort level.
“I was thinking,” says Carol, “we could spend some time at the fly-tying bench.”
“Sure…” says Braedon, trying to sound upbeat about the idea.
“I know you’re not a fly-fisher. Your dad complains to me about it every time he’s in the shop. You like fishing with your grandpa Judd, right?”
Braedon nods.
“Well, guess what. Fly-tying isn’t just for making flies. You can also make lures for fishing the way you and your grandpa do. Lures to catch bass, walleye, northern pike, even muskies. Big old honkers made of buck tail and silver spoons and colored beads and feathers. We can make ’em in brown, olive, chartreuse, white, yellow, red. There is no shortage of supplies in this house. What do you think about surprising your grandpa Judd with a whole mess of them? Handmade by the prince himself!”
Braedon laughs. “I don’t know how.”
“I’ll teach you. I got a book about making plunker lures around here somewhere. Otherwise we’ll resort to YouTube.”
“One pancake sandwich hot and ready to be eaten,” says Sue. She sets the plate on the kitchen table and retrieves a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator.
“Thank you,” says Braedon. He sits at the kitchen table and feels so grateful he might cry. Grateful for Sue and Carol. Grateful for his grandpa Judd. Grateful for his father moving them to Riverwood, Minnesota. He’s a boy who’s never had a mother. His father tries to be both, father and mother. And hehad Siobhan, his full-time nanny for the first eleven years of his life. She was motherlike, but she never loved him the way a person does when they choose to be your mother. Loving Braedon and being there for him was Siobhan’s job. Not her pleasure. But Judd and Deb and Teddy and Sue and Carol, they not only love Braedon, they love loving Braedon. Like a real mother would. He misses Emily and his other friends in Ireland. He misses the language and the sea, the League of Ireland Premier Division on the telly. He misses the culture and pride of the Irish people. But the abundance of love Braedon feels in Riverwood fills him with more warmth than just-out-of-the-oven soda bread and beef stew. Even with the trouble he had last night, he can’t imagine living anywhere else.
CHAPTER 27
Braedon texted Clay to ask if he could spend the whole day with Carol. Apparently they’re working on some kind of special project and won’t be done until evening. Normally Clay wouldn’t want to put that responsibility on Carol and Sue—spending an entire night and day with Braedon—but he seems to be having a good time. And Carol chimed in with a text of her own saying she had big plans for Braedon that day. Clay gives his permission—he can definitely use some quiet time to catch up on sleep.
But first Clay, Judd, and Zoey eat breakfast at Nick’s Bar & Grill, known for their everything-is-fried-in-bacon-grease breakfast, which doesn’t disappoint. They recap the last twelve hours to see if any of them missed anything, make a plan to go update Deb, and then head to their respective homes for naptime.
Deb welcomes them into the doublewide with no news. Shehasn’t heard from Teddy. Nor has she heard from the dozens of people she’s asked to keep a lookout for him. Friends in town. Friends up in Rochester. Friends in the Twin Cities.
They gather around the kitchen table. A platter of fresh-baked-from-frozen cinnamon rolls proves too tempting along with the fresh pot of coffee Deb brewed. They haven’t missed a meal in the last twenty-four hours, but pulling an all-nighter makes them feel like they have, and Deb’s offerings are a welcome second breakfast.
“Do you know if Teddy likes to hike Miller’s Bluff?” says Judd. “Because he’s never mentioned it.”
“No,” says Deb. “Teddy didn’t hike for the sake of hiking. He hiked to get to his favorite fishing spots, and as far as I know, there’s no water up on Miller’s Bluff.”
Zoey picks a layer off her cinnamon roll and puts it in her mouth. No need to chew—it just melts. “Do you know if he’s had any health problems that either Clay or Judd might not know about?” says Zoey. “Any light-headedness? Fainting? Is it possible he’s had heart trouble or suffered any small strokes?”
“No,” says Deb. “Why do you ask?”
“I think Zoey’s wondering if a health issue could cause Teddy to lose consciousness,” says Clay, who sips his coffee. “Has he ever complained of dizziness after standing up too fast?”
“No,” says Deb. “But I suppose anything’s possible. He’s sixty-three years old. Things start happening. Billy Hoffmann graduated with us and he dropped dead of a heart attack over the holidays. He was thin and ran every day. And fainting doesn’t explain why Teddy might have left his things where those boys found them. Especially the earring. He never took off that earring.”
“About the saw,” says Zoey, holding out her phone to show Deb a photograph. “Does this look familiar?” In the hardware store, Graham identified the sawzall that looked exactly like the one they’d found on the ground. “Is it one of yours?”
Deb shakes her head. “We have a mower and a Weedwacker for the lawn and that’s it. Teddy and I both prefer nature to do its thing on the rest of the property.”
“Ever see a tool like this before? Could Teddy have maybe borrowed it from a friend?”
