The Passing Storm by Christine Nolfi
Chapter 15
The trees slumbered in winter hiatus. Bare-armed, they were unable to hide the damage.
Lengths of electrical wiring drooped from the branches. Nearest the house, a string tapped aimlessly against its tree trunk, dislodged by high winds or busy squirrels. The second tree was a taller maple. Rae anxiously peered up at the limbs. In the past, she never stopped for long to study the lighting that represented her mother’s final burst of creativity. Doing so was too difficult.
Her heart fell. “They’re in worse shape than I’d realized.” Many of the oval- and star-shaped lights were broken.
“They do look bad,” Quinn agreed, disappointed.
“I feel awful. I don’t know how many times I’ve walked by without noticing.”
“You forgot about them, that’s all.”
They’d come outside through the mudroom. Most of the snow had melted, thanks to last night’s rain. Her father, still near the house, was shoveling the last of the slush from the walk.
Rae gestured toward the deck. “See the switch, near the sliding glass doors?” she asked Quinn. “Go ahead and try them.”
Nothing happened. Connor, walking past, muttered choice words. There was no missing that Rae’s disappointment paled beside his.
On the third tree, a cord hung limply. Connor reached up and hooked it back into place. “Forgive me, Hester.” He regarded the moon riding above the cloudless night. “You spent weeks mapping out your twinkly lights. You never got a chance to finish, but they sure were pretty. I’m a shit for letting your inspiration go to seed.”
“Language.” Rae patted his back. “Mom understands. Life got in the way.”
“Your mother put a lot of thought into the design. All those different hues. Like fireflies leading from the house to the barn. All that trouble, and for what? We should’ve noticed they were falling apart. If Hester were here, she’d pitch a fit.”
In silent agreement, Rae winced. Her mother’s temper hadn’t flared often. Only when her art was the point of contention. She’d imposed strict rules governing when her family was permitted inside the studio. The only time Rae broke the rule—out of boredom on a lazy summer day—she’d touched a sculptural collage in progress. Her mother had blown sky-high.
If they couldn’t get around to repairing the lights, Hester would’ve preferred they were taken down.
“Sorry, Mom.” Rae sent an apologetic glance at the moon. “We screwed up.”
From the back deck, Quinn said, “We should fix them.” He kept flipping the switch, as if repeated attempts would produce a better outcome. “We’ve got lots of supplies in the basement. More than enough. Connor, do you know how they’re supposed to go up? If you don’t, let’s wing it.”
“There’s no need—I have my wife’s schematic. She was a perfectionist. The design is as detailed as an architectural rendering.” Connor chuckled. “Hester was also big on overkill. It’s a wonder she didn’t sketch in leaves on the trees.”
Quinn hurried down the steps. “Where’s the schematic?”
“In my nightstand.”
“That’s great! Maybe when we finish, I can bring a friend over to see them.”
Friend? What friend?Rae exchanged a curious glance with her father. Not once since moving in had the boy mentioned anyone from school.
“Who is he?” she asked, happy to learn her daughter hadn’t been his only companion. Given all the stress in his life, he could use a buddy.
“Not a guy . . . Ava. We’re not really friends. Not yet anyway. She’s in eleventh grade. Sometimes she says hi when I see her between classes. She’s always nice when she sees me.”
The explanation seemed to test the limits of Quinn’s ability to discuss the issue, and he blushed to his hairline. From the looks of it, he had a serious crush on a girl at school. It was such a sweetly normal dilemma that Rae nearly laughed out loud.
Connor looked equally pleased. “You like Ava?” he asked bluntly.
Quinn’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. He managed to nod.
“What are you waiting for? Ask her out!”
“Oh, I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
Rae swatted her father. “Dad, what is it with you today?” Encouraging her to try a dating site, and now badgering their clearly embarrassed houseguest about asking out a girl at school—maybe Connor was the one who needed to kick-start his romantic life. A notion that did make her laugh out loud as she added, “He didn’t ask your advice on how to handle the situation. And Quinn, if she’s greeting you in the hallways, that constitutes friendship in my book. Do you ever stop when you see Ava, just to share small talk? I’m sure she’d enjoy talking to you.”
“It’s too hard, at school. You know . . . finding a way to strike up a conversation. There’s not much time between classes.”
“What about at the coffee shop on Chardon Square?” After school, the place was usually filled with teenagers—especially the older kids. College students too. “If you see Ava hanging out there, it might be easier to chat. Less pressure, and you don’t have to worry about running late for your next class.”
He brightened. “That’s what I’ve been thinking. Maybe I’ll run into her at the coffee shop, and it’ll make everything simpler.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “Don’t overthink your strategy, Quinn. It’ll just make you more nervous when you do talk to her. Trust me on this. When I was your age, I was just as bashful. Seeing a pretty girl . . . why, my first impulse was to run in the opposite direction.”
The disclosure spilled relief across his features. “Tell me about it!” He studied Connor with interest. “You were bashful once? Man, I never would’ve guessed.”
“I grew out of it. Meeting Rae’s mother helped. Having the right woman at my side was more good fortune than I deserved. Hester was the love of my life.”
For a fleeting moment, sadness flickered in her father’s gaze. Rae understood the parts he was leaving out: Connor hadn’t fully come into his own until after her mother’s death, when Lark was born. When he’d needed to take control of his depression and help Rae manage their lives. The worst of times break some people; her father, however, found his inner strength. He went on medication to ease the darkest periods of depression and threw himself wholeheartedly into helping raise his granddaughter.
Letting the subject go, Connor sniffed the air. “Winter is wrapping up. I doubt we’ll have more snow.”
“How can you tell?” Quinn asked.
“Experience, son.”
“Then we can get started on the lights. It’ll be fun.”
“Forget about fun,” Rae put in. “I’d love to see the lights finished too, but I can’t have my father climbing a ladder in the middle of winter. Or any other time, for that matter.”
“But he said that spring’s coming. It’s almost March first. It’s practically spring already.”
As if the date mattered. “Quinn, this is northeast Ohio. Five more feet of snow might fall before Julius Caesar gets a warning on March fifteenth.”
“Who’s he?”
Connor palmed his forehead. “She’s referring to one of Shakespeare’s plays,” he explained. He planted his frosty regard on Rae. “FYI, it’s none of your business if I climb a ladder, or take up rock climbing, if it tickles my fancy. Get the pecking order straight—I’m your father. You want to push someone around, pick on Quinn. I’ll do whatever I want.”
“Dad, I have two words for you: hip replacement.” She challenged his frosty regard with narrowing eyes. “There are some activities one avoids after a certain age. Can you even remember the last time you climbed a ladder?”
“Go pop a chocolate, Rae.”
Quinn went a little green. “Mr. Nixon at the high school got a hip replacement. He teaches history classes. He walks with a cane now.” He hesitated. “Connor, you should listen to her. She’s only looking out for you.”
“Go on, hotshot. Take her side.”
“I’m not taking sides.”
“You should,” Rae insisted, glad he’d spoken up. “In our family, we vote on serious matters. It’s the rule.”
The word “family” latched Quinn’s gaze to hers. Searching, probing, his eyes brimmed with questions and uncertainty. They also held doubt and fear—or panic. It was hard to tell, and the intensity of his gaze made Rae aware that her father was right. Quinn rarely looked at them directly. Rarely for longer than a moment.
He threw his attention on his feet.
“We’ve got odd numbers here,” she announced, moved by the questions she’d glimpsed in his eyes, the hope. But the fleeting panic she’d sensed roused her mothering instincts. Did Quinn have secrets? Was he in some sort of trouble? Pushing aside the thought, she added, “I’m looking for two-to-one. Quinn, are you with me?”
The challenge stirred his latent maturity. Shoulders straight, he managed to look at her again.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” he decided. “I won’t let your dad near a ladder. Not until the temps stay above freezing.”
“You won’t let him near one at all. No exceptions.” When her father began to protest, she lifted a warning hand. “I mean it, Dad. If you don’t agree, I’m putting the lights into storage. Or donating them to the charity of your choice. Either way, you won’t have them anymore.”
A fissure of irritation shook through Connor. “Fine. I’ll stay on terra firma.”
“Thank you. Quinn, please keep an eye on him.”
“Will do.” A childlike eagerness slipped into his voice. “When can we get started?”
By the following Saturday, her father and Quinn were making progress. Balancing on tree limbs with no apparent fear of heights, Quinn wielded wire cutters to remove the damaged lights. On the ground, Connor salvaged the few oval- and star-shaped bulbs that had survived years of neglect. The weather lent a hand, warming enough to melt the last traces of snow.
Leaving them to their work, Rae drove into Chardon Square. Her boss, Evelyn Witt, was preparing for a much-needed vacation in the Bahamas. Until her return, Rae was in charge. Although Rae rarely came in on Saturdays, Evelyn requested she stop by to discuss her additional duties.
Near lunchtime, Rae’s phone chimed as she left Evelyn’s office. “What’s up?” It was Yuna.
“Are you in town?”
“Heading back to my office now.” Earlier in the week, she’d mentioned Evelyn’s vacation.
“I was hoping to catch you.” Relief colored Yuna’s voice. “What do you have planned today?”
“Not much. A quick stop at Dixon’s for a snack, and grocery shopping. Then I’m spending a relaxing Saturday night digging through laundry. With a teenager in the house, I need a snow shovel. Quinn would help fold, but he has a trig exam next week. He’ll be holed up in my guest bedroom tonight, studying.”
“A trig exam . . . that explains why he didn’t come into work today.”
Reaching into her file cabinet, Rae paused. “Was he supposed to?”
“Yes, but it’s fine. There wasn’t much for him to do. I didn’t have any merchandise deliveries this week.”
“If Quinn was scheduled, shouldn’t he have come in regardless?” The words were barely out when she realized why he hadn’t gone in.
“It was surprising that he didn’t call to explain.”
“Yuna, my father must’ve outbid you.” Rae explained about the project to complete Hester’s lighting. Summing up, she added, “I’ll tell my dad not to ask Quinn for help on days he’s scheduled to work for you. No matter what he’s willing to pay.”
“More than I can afford, I’m sure. But don’t badger your dad. It’s sweet that he’s hanging around with Quinn. It’s good for both of them.” After a long pause, Yuna said, “Rae, did you get a chance to come up with more ideas for Night on the Square? We’re getting together at the library at one o’clock.” The library was located directly across the square from the Witt Agency, not far from Dixon’s wine and dessert café. “I’d like to present a list of themes at today’s meeting.”
Rae was glad for the heads-up—she’d skip grabbing a snack at Dixon’s. Since the funeral, she’d managed to avoid Katherine. Twice she’d nearly bumped into Sally at the grocery store. She’d quickly steered her cart into a checkout line.
On her computer, she located the file. “I only have some themes so far. I’m not finished.”
“Can you drop off what you have?”
Rae detected fatigue in Yuna’s voice. Transmitting the file was simpler, but it wouldn’t hurt to check in and ensure her friend was okay.
“I’ll see you in a minute,” she promised.
The break in the weather had brought customers in droves to the craft emporium. The cash register sang happily. The four employees were busy, but not overly so. After months of slate-colored skies and constant snowfall, everyone seemed sunny like the weather.
The sole exception? Yuna.
Replenishing stock near the front, she appeared wan and listless. In lieu of her normally eccentric clothes—metallic leggings paired with a bold T-shirt or one of her gauzy pixie tops—she wore loose jeans and an old cable-knit sweater. An outfit more at home in Rae’s closet, sensible and boring.
“I hate mysteries,” Rae said by way of greeting. “You were trying to tell me something the other day. Now I’m officially concerned.” Yuna wasn’t wearing makeup either. Not even lip gloss, as if she’d rolled out of bed and marched straight to work. “Do you need to see a doctor? Let’s go—I’ll drive.”
“There’s no need. I’ve seen a doctor.”
“What was the diagnosis?”
“It’s great. A happy-happy diagnosis,” Yuna said in a dull monotone that was decidedly unhappy. She surveyed the busy store. “Let’s not talk here.”
Taking the lead, Rae beat her to the stockroom. Anxiety steered her all the way to the back. At the employee lunch table, she plunked down.
Yuna quickly dispensed with the mystery. “I’m pregnant.” She took the seat opposite. “I’ve known for some time.”
Unexpectedly, the news carried the scent of Lark’s newborn skin. How Rae couldn’t resist pressing her nose against her daughter’s soft belly after she bathed her. The earthy connection they’d forged, mother and child.
Then her stomach did a painful flip. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is there a problem with the pregnancy?”
“Everything’s fine.” Yuna plucked at her ratty sweater. Discovering a yarn coming loose, she tugged at it. “I meant to tell you the other day. I’m excited, but I’m also . . . oh, I don’t know. I suppose Kipp is right—I’ve been dreading this conversation. I wasn’t sure how to tell you.”
“Because of Lark?” Rae swallowed around the lump in her throat. Then she cast a jaundiced glance at the unraveling hem. “Stop picking at your clothes and look at me.” When Yuna’s dark, worried gaze lifted, she smiled. “I’m thrilled for you and Kipp. Over-the-moon delighted. A baby is happy news.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why wouldn’t I be happy about my bestie’s pregnancy?”
Without warning, sorrow flooded her. Refusing to let it pull her under, Rae flopped her hands onto the table. She wiggled her fingers.
Taking the cue, Yuna reached across. Their hands caught and held. Their bond was powerful, like the one Rae had lost with her daughter.
Gratitude swept through her, banishing the last of the despair. “Do me a favor,” she said.
“Anything.”
“Stop tiptoeing around my feelings. I’m managing. Some days are easier than others. The bad days? I muddle through. They aren’t as frequent now.” Yuna eyed her with suspicion, and she quickly added, “I promise—I’m doing fine. Even if I weren’t, it wouldn’t change my feelings about your pregnancy. You’re my closest, dearest friend. I want nothing but good things for you. A baby! I know how much you’ve wanted a little brother or sister for Kameko.”
Yuna returned her hands to her lap. “That’s true,” she murmured, “but I hate the timing. It just feels wrong.”
“Stop it. Grieving for Lark doesn’t mean I can’t feel happiness for you . . . and pity, if you’re having morning sickness like the last time. How are you faring?”
“Not great. Spices, perfumes—I’m never sure what will set me off. When Kipp made burgers last night, I fled to the bathroom. He fed Kameko in record time, then took her to the movies. The sound of Mama retching may scar her for life.”
“Count on it. I’m scarred from your last go-round. In the annals of pregnancy, you stand as the unchallenged Vomit Queen.”
“Take my crown. I don’t want it.” Yuna grew thoughtful. “Why do they call it ‘morning sickness’ when the nausea strikes at all hours?”
“A man devised the term, I’m sure. Some guy in a lab coat with no firsthand experience with menses or the complete humiliation of a gynecological exam.” Rae winced. “Or the delightful ordeal of labor.”
“Let’s kill him.”
Pregnancy, she mused, altered Yuna’s even-keeled personality in fascinating ways. During her second trimester with Kameko, her staff had banished her to the stockroom, as Yuna couldn’t wait on customers without yelling at them. By the third trimester, Kipp was sleeping on the couch. He’d grown tired of his wife’s late-night complaints that if he really loved her, he’d cut a hole in the mattress, allowing her to drop her belly through. By then, Kameko was doing the merengue on her bladder every ten minutes.
“Rein in those hormones. We’re not doing murder.” Rae glanced at her phone. “It’s almost one o’clock. The witching hour for the Night on the Square meeting.”
“Change of plans. I’m not going. Listening to everyone squabble . . . I’ll hurl on the table.”
“Who’ll run the show if you’re absent?”
Yuna’s head fell back, her dejected gaze settling on the ceiling. “His name is Mayhem,” she joked. “He’ll destroy all my work.”
“I’m glad pregnancy hasn’t stolen your sense of humor,” Rae said, coming to a decision. “And you can cheer up now—I’ll escort you. I’d rather eat dirt, but you’re in no shape to go alone. If you’re a no-show, there will be pandemonium.”
“You’ll come with me? You’re serious?”
“Don’t look surprised.” Rae fished around in her purse. “You knew my loyalty would override my objections.” Finding the tin of mints, she slid them across the table. “If you feel the urge to rush out of the room, I’ll take over. The rest of the time, I’m playing Minion Rush on my phone. Don’t sit us anywhere near Katherine.”
Chatter swirled through the conference room. Rae counted twelve participants, two men and ten women. Half of the faces were unfamiliar. At the head of the table, Katherine and Sally were already seated. Deep in conversation, they seemed oblivious to the noise around them.
Rae led Yuna to the other end.
One of the men, an athletic chiropractor who’d recently moved to Chardon, kicked off the meeting. Should they hire a big band ensemble like last year, or opt for a DJ? The chiropractor had done his homework well. The quotes he handed out fluttered around the table.
A lively conversation ensued. Apparently queasy, Yuna popped a mint into her mouth. She appeared relieved the others weren’t asking her to weigh in.
“Do the meditative breathing,” Rae suggested. It was helpful during Yuna’s last pregnancy. “Deep breaths, slowly. That’s right.”
“Who’s wearing perfume?”
“Every woman in here, except me.” Rae pretended to read the quote, passed on by the woman to her right.
“I want to kill them too.”
“Next time, send a memo. No perfume at the meetings.”
Near the center of the table, a man with bifocals perched on his nose raised his voice. He began talking over the others, listing the merits of an ensemble band. He began debating with the chiropractor who, evidently, was vying for a DJ. Rae considered dozing off.
The hairs on the back of her neck lifted. Someone was watching her.
Startled, she ranged her attention down the table. To Katherine, staring at her with contempt.
Cutting off the exchange, she leaned toward Yuna’s ear. “I have a problem,” she whispered.
“What’s wrong?”
“Check out Katherine. The way she’s looking at me.”
Yuna hazarded a glance. “What do you expect?” Beneath the table, she kicked lightly at Rae’s foot. “You haven’t been exactly friendly. Learn to get as well as you give, sister.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Wait. She’s whispering to Sally. Whatever they’re discussing, Sally looks upset.”
“They’re talking about me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Call it a gut feeling.”
With her eyes planted on her lap, Rae tensed. The others were beginning to notice the short bursts of whispered conversation between her and Yuna.
“Can I leave?” Rae couldn’t banish the quaver from her voice. “I’ll just sneak out.”
The mutual protection society between close friends was ironclad, and Yuna’s mouth thinned. “No need. Just hold tight for a minute.”
Around the table, the debate began to cool down. One of the women collected the quotes on music options. Breaking in, Yuna took charge. No one complained; everyone knew she was their de facto leader.
“I’ll notify you with the date and time of our next meeting. Thank you, everyone.” And with that, they were finished. Beating everyone to the door, she led Rae out.
The sun played tag with fast-moving clouds. Crossing traffic, they ran into the center green and darted around the side of the courthouse. They halted in the shadows. The moment’s stress caught them both, and they were suddenly laughing.
In between bouts of laughter, Yuna tried to catch her breath. “I shouldn’t have been flip when you noticed Katherine staring,” she said between gulps of air. “You have been giving her the cold shoulder, but she should understand the reasons.”
“I half expected her to pull a voodoo doll from her purse and start jabbing pins into it.”
“She wouldn’t dare—not with me around.”
“Thanks.” Sobering, Rae pulled in a calming breath. “She did look totally peeved. I guess I assumed . . . oh, I don’t know.” She pressed a palm to her forehead. “I just assumed she didn’t care what I thought, one way or the other.”
“Perhaps it’s time for you to consider that she might be hurting too. Questioning what it cost, for her to run that errand on the night of the slumber party.”
The observation made Rae’s eyes burn. “Maybe,” she agreed.
“Well, I pity Sally—whatever Katherine whispered to her, it wasn’t good. What do you think she said? Sally looked ready to faint.”
“I don’t know, or care.”
Rae suffered a twinge of pity for Sally, who’d clearly been distressed. During childhood, Griffin’s older sister had been kind to her. Distant—and a little bossy where her brother was concerned—but Sally had always meant well.
Yuna said, “No more meetings, okay? You’re officially off the hook. From now on, you report to me.”
“What about your tummy?”
“I’ll take my chances at the meetings.” Yuna smoothed a hank of Rae’s unruly hair back in place. “Should I give Katherine fair warning? Smooth the way, in case you run into her on Chardon Square? I’d hate to lose her help on the committee, but her behavior was incredibly rude.”
“No! I don’t trust your fluctuating hormones. You won’t stop at a civilized reprimand. You’ll bite.” She flicked Yuna’s nose, drawing a laugh. “Let’s not blow this out of proportion. Katherine’s opinion of me is the least of my worries.”
“Perhaps it’s best if you stay away from her.”
“As if I need a warning.” Rae thought of something else. “Are you low on saltines or melba toast?” During Yuna’s last pregnancy, they were her go-to foods. “I’m on my way to the grocery store. I’ll grab whatever you need.”
“No worries—Kipp has already stocked me up. His way of apologizing for grilling burgers. He knows how they upset my tummy.”
“Poor guy. If he’s on an almost-vegetarian diet like the last time, it’ll kill him.”
“He’ll survive.” Yuna glanced across the traffic at her shop. “I’ll talk to you later.”
With a wave, she sprinted across the street. She disappeared inside the craft emporium.
Rae’s car was parked before the Witt Agency. The car keys jingling from her fingertips, she paused on the driver’s side. Frustrated, she dug deeper in her purse. Where was the grocery list? She couldn’t recall if she’d grabbed it before leaving the house.
“Rae Langdon!”
The voice—female, angry—came from the center green. Shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare, Rae looked back toward the courthouse. With horror, she spotted the woman.
Her keys jangled to the ground.