A Thousand Yesteryears (24 page)

“Then why did you stay?”

Katie shrugged, lowering her eyes briefly. “I knew my mother wasn’t going anywhere, and I really believed Wendy didn’t run away. I’m not sure what I thought happened to her, but I knew if she tried to reach me, she’d look here. I couldn’t leave without knowing what became of her.”

Eve leaned forward, laying a hand over hers. “What if those really are her bones we dug up last night? Are you prepared for that?”

Katie nodded. “I already know it’s her. I can feel it in my heart. I just want the bastard that killed her to be found. She didn’t deserve to be tossed away like that. No one does.”

Roger Layton’s party went smoothly. Eve made sure the meal was served and the tables cleared before she thought about taking a break in her office. Most of the work was over.

At the podium, Lillian offered a toast to her husband, then beckoned him forward to say a few words. His speech wasn’t long, a thank you to her, a reference to his position as VP at the bank—drumming up more business, most likely—and a few anecdotes about getting older. When he was through, Katie dimmed the lights, setting the stage for a more relaxed environment. Violet Breeze, the local band Lillian had hired, launched into its first set, and a few dancers braved the spotlight on the highly waxed floor, Roger and Lillian among them.

Satisfied that all was going well, Eve headed for the door. A ten-minute break wouldn’t hurt, and she could use the downtime after standing most of the evening in heels. She was almost to the threshold when she encountered Jeremy Layton returning from the hallway where he’d no doubt gone in search of the bathroom, his expression strangely mournful.

“Hi, Jeremy.” She smiled as she approached. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

He shrugged without comment, his sullen look speaking volumes. The poor kid was probably bored out of his skull.

“Aren’t there any other kids here?”

He shook his head glumly. “Dad didn’t want that.”

So it was Roger who’d called the shots with putting the party together. He wanted pomp and fanfare but didn’t want to appear like the one orchestrating it.

“Don’t you like to dance?” She felt badly for Jeremy. “That’s always fun.” Even as a kid, she’d danced with adults at some parties she’d attended. Both her dad and mom had always been accommodating when she couldn’t coax one of her shyer friends onto the floor. And then there was Aunt Rosie, who’d often dragged
her
out for a fun and frivolous twirl.

He shook his head.

“Ok. Well, what do you like to do?”

“I like to read.”

“Great. Did you bring a book?”

“Dad wouldn’t let me.” The kid looked miserable. “He said I need to be part of the party, make sure I’m seen.”

Dad was a jerk. The more she learned about Roger, the more she disliked him. Between the orders he’d given Lillian about the party preparations and the rules he set for Jeremy’s attendance, he was obviously an overbearing man. No wonder her father disliked him. What had ever attracted Aunt Rosie to a man like Roger?

Tapping a finger against her chin, she considered the pop magazine Sharon had stashed behind the reception counter. Would a twelve-year-old boy be interested in Journey?

“I might be able to find a magazine downstairs if you’d like.”

“That’s okay.” A hesitant smile touched his lips, and she had the distinct impression he was pleased by the offer. “Thanks anyway. Mom stashed the book I’m reading in her purse. She said once Dad has a few drinks and is wrapped up in the party, she’ll give it to me. He won’t notice me reading then.”

Lillian might be reserved, but she plainly had a soft spot for her son. “Your Mom is really thoughtful.”

He nodded eagerly. “Yeah. We like a lot of the same things, too, like reading, funny TV shows, and gardening. Mom and I both love yellow carnations. Dad says flower gardening isn’t masculine and reading isn’t much better.”

Dad was more than a jerk, he was a dyed-in-the-wool Neanderthal. Eying the tables, Eve was surprised he hadn’t objected to the colorful centerpieces Lillian had delivered from the local florist. Apparently flower arrangements were acceptable for a banquet hall celebration. The summery blooms reminded her of the yellow carnations she’d found on Aunt Rosie’s grave. Interesting that Lillian liked yellow carnations.

Curiosity made her pry. “Has your mom taken flowers to the cemetery lately?”

Jeremy looked at her in surprise, and she immediately regretted the question. What a strange thing to ask a young boy. He must think her crazy, at the very least, rude.

“How did you know?”

It was her turn to feel astonishment. “You mean she did?”

He nodded. “She put them on some woman’s grave. I think she’s a relative of yours.”

“Rosalind Parrish?”

Another nod. “I went with her because she took me to McDonalds for lunch afterward. She said we shouldn’t tell Dad about the flowers because he’d only get mad.”

Eve’s heartbeat quickened. Why would Lillian of all people feel compelled to put flowers on the grave of her husband’s former fiancée? And why would that make Roger angry?

She was so absorbed in the thought she didn’t realize when the Man of Honor came up beside her. “Is my son monopolizing your time?”

Eve tried to keep her growing distaste from showing as she turned to face him. “Roger. You surprised me. Jeremy and I were just chatting. Your son is charming.”

He didn’t spare the boy a glance. “Perhaps I can distract you for a moment? I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” Eve allowed herself to be steered away, thinking it had to do with the party. A backward glance over her shoulder showed Jeremy disappearing back into the hallway as if he hoped to vanish from his father’s sight.

“I hope you won’t mind doing me the honor of a dance as we talk.” Roger pulled her onto the waxed floor before she could form an objection. Violet Breeze had morphed into the mellow notes of a song more appropriate for romantic dancing between couples
.
Eve stiffened to the feel of Roger’s arm around her waist and the dwindling space between them. “Shouldn’t you be dancing with your wife?”

“My wife and I have all night to dance, and she doesn’t have a hotel to sell.”

Eve almost came to a complete stop. “Pardon?”

His smile was smooth and effortless. “Eve, certainly you must have surmised by now that I’m Adam Barnett’s client. Who else in town would have the wherewithal to make a solid offer on the Parrish Hotel?”

“You?” It made sense. Of course, it did. He was vice president of the local bank and, according to almost everyone in town, one of Point Pleasant’s leading citizens. But why would a bank VP want to add an historic hotel to his portfolio of holdings? She bit her lip. Why not, especially if the tide turned and he could make it profitable again?

No, that was something
she
intended to do. Even without a resurgence of Mothman fever, she had planned on reinventing the hotel and establishing the type of traffic that had been common in her parents’ day. She wasn’t about to turn that legacy over to anyone else. If she’d been on the fence before about leaving Point Pleasant, she no longer had doubts she would stay. The Parrish Hotel would not fall into the hands of someone like Roger Layton.

Or anyone else for that matter. It belonged to her family. Always had and always would if she had anything to say about it.

“I’d like to discuss my offer with you.” Roger moved closer as if attempting to use his height to intimidate her. His hand dropped lower onto her hip.

Rather than grow flustered, she became angry. “Mr. Barnett already discussed it with me. The answer is no. I’m staying in Point Pleasant. The hotel isn’t for sale.”

His lips thinned in a condescending smile. “What do you know about running a hotel?”

“It’s in my blood.” The man was such a conceited ass. “And I have Katie Lynch as my manager. She knows the operations of this hotel almost as well as my Aunt Rosie did.”

“Katie Lynch—”

“Did I hear my name?” Like a godsend, her friend appeared at her shoulder, as poised as Eve had ever seen her. “Eve, I hate to interrupt, but I need to talk to you about the wine list.”

Eve wanted to hug her. “Of course.” Stepping away from Roger, she thanked him politely for the dance, then reiterated the hotel was not for sale. Katie gave her a strange look but led her across the room and into the hallway where they had more privacy.

“What about the wine list?” Eve moved a short distance away from the entrance. At the top of the stairs, a young couple chatted while taking in the view of the lobby and a few partygoers wandered past in search of the restrooms farther down the hall.

Katie shook her head. “Nothing actually. I just thought you needed rescuing from Roger. I saw him pawing you.” She gave a theatrical shudder. “The man makes my skin crawl.”

“Mine, too.” Away from the ballroom and the party guests, Eve could admit the truth. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Katie smiled. “Glad to help. But what was that about selling the hotel?” The smile faded, replaced by an expression of worry. The hotel was Katie’s livelihood, especially now with the promotion and raise she’d received. It would be bad enough for Eve to sell, but far worse if she turned the establishment over to a man like Roger.

“You don’t have to worry. Roger Layton isn’t getting his hands on my hotel.”

“He actually wanted to buy it?”

“He did.” She crossed to an ornate, padded bench positioned against the wall and sank to a seat. It was wonderful to get off her feet for a few minutes. A steady drone of music, voices, and laughter flowed from the open doors of the ballroom as Roger’s party settled into full swing.

Looking worried, Kate joined her on the bench. “Are you thinking of selling to someone else?”

“Definitely not.” Removing one shoe, Eve dropped it to the floor, then massaged her toes. She’d worn slacks, not a dress, but the heels had taken their toll on her feet. “I won’t lie. For a time I did consider selling, but so much has happened, it’s made me realize what the hotel means. I grew up here. Despite all the bad memories of the Silver Bridge, losing my father and Maggie, Point Pleasant is my home. I’ve decided to stay.”

Katie’s mouth dropped. “Permanently?”

Fully embracing the decision, Eve nodded. “As soon as I can finalize things in Harrisburg, I’m going to move here. I’ve already got Caden making repairs to the house so—”

She never got to finish. With a squeal of delight, Katie engulfed her in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re going to stay! And not just because of the hotel. You’ve become such a good friend. I’d be lost if you went back to Harrisburg.”

“Me, too.” Laughing, Eve hugged her back. “I’ll be counting on you to help me get things in order.”

“I will. I promise. Rosie would be so happy.”

The mention of her aunt shifted Eve’s thoughts elsewhere. Drawing back, she looked at Katie intently. “Speaking of Aunt Rosie, you won’t believe what I learned tonight.”

“From Roger?”

“No. From his son, Jeremey. Apparently, Lillian put flowers on Aunt Rosie’s grave when Jeremy was with her. She told him they had to keep it a secret from Roger because he’d be angry.”

The smooth skin above Katie’s eyebrows furrowed in a frown. “But Lillian and Rosie weren’t friends. As far as I know, the only time they spoke was when Lillian booked the ballroom.”

“That’s what I thought. So why would Lillian go out of her way to put flowers on Aunt Rosie’s grave, especially if she knew Roger wouldn’t like it?” It didn’t make sense.

“Uh-oh.” Eve’s friend stared past her down the hallway, a flicker of alarm passing through her eyes.

“What?”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but Caden is headed this way, and he doesn’t look happy.”

Eve twisted around to see her boyfriend stalking toward her, his expression thunderous. Now what? With a sigh, she slipped on her shoe. “You’d better go. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s about me.”

“Maybe I
will
check on the wine list.” Katie patted her knee. “Be tough. That guy’s putty in your hands.” Breezing down the hall, she tossed a hello to Caden as they passed, but he barely acknowledged her, focused on Eve.

“You look upset,” she said when he reached her. He’d obviously been working at her house, dressed in an old T-shirt and jeans that bore speckles of paint. Yesterday, he’d finished the repairs and painting to Aunt Rosie’s old dark room and had intended to start on the upstairs hallway and bath today.

“Upset?” The word rolled from his tongue weighted with sarcasm. “When were you going to tell me?”

Puzzled, Eve stood. “Tell you what?”

He shook his head as if disbelieving she would act clueless.

“Caden.” She grew exasperated. “It would help if I knew what you were talking about.”

“I’ll give you a hint. I needed turpentine to clean my paintbrushes but ran out, so I looked in your shed, hoping you might have some. Want to guess what I found?”

“Pff!” She blew air between her lips. The man was acting crazy. “No, I—” And then it hit her. The trash bag with the butchered crow. How could she have been so stupid to forget? Between the grave-digging excursion in the Witch Wood, the discovery of Wendy’s remains, and the preparations for Roger’s party, she hadn’t buried the grisly thing. The bag had probably been swarming with flies. “Oh.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I forgot. I was going to tell you. Honestly.”

His gaze was hard. “When?”

The intent had been there from the moment Katie lectured her, but somehow she’d forgotten. Especially after Caden had dropped his bombshell about coming in contact with the Mothman. With all the craziness taking place, she wasn’t exactly thinking rationally.

“Eve.” Grabbing her arm, Caden pulled her down onto the bench. “How am I supposed to protect you if you won’t tell me what’s going on?”

Fire stirred in her belly. “I don’t need you to protect me, Caden.”

“You do know I was a cop?”

“Yes, a sergeant. And I know why you quit. Doreen Sue told me what happened with Hank Jeffries and the Kline brothers.”

His mouth twisted, a visible sign he hadn’t expected her to dig up something so tragic. “She told you, huh? It’s probably just as well.”