All A Heart Needs B&N (15 page)

Sean turned into a residential area and drove slowly as they looked for the address. Connie lived in an older part of town, the homes a mix of small single story structures and new or remodeled two-story homes. Connie's house was one of the bigger ones on the block.

Sean parked and looked at Jessica. "Ready?"

"I guess. This is your past, so I'm going to let you lead."

"All right. Let's go."

"Should I bring the albums?"

"Not yet. I don't want to hand them over to Connie. I want to give them to Lana or Blake."

"Okay." They got out of the van, and walked up a nicely landscaped path to Connie's front door. Sean pressed the bell, and they waited.

"I hope she's home," Jessica said. "It would be a shame to have come all this way for nothing."

"There's a car in the driveway and a light on inside."

He'd barely finished speaking when the door opened. A woman with dark brown hair and brown eyes gave them a suspicious look. She appeared to be in her early fifties, so she was the right age to be Lana's sister.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Are you Connie Bristol?" Sean asked.

She gave them a wary look. "Yes, who are you?"

"I'm Sean Callaway and this is Jessica Schilling. A long time ago, I was friends with Stacy Emery. In fact, I lived right around the corner."

The woman's face paled. She drew in a sharp breath. "Why are you here now?"

"We're looking for Stacy's mother, Lana. I understand you're her sister."

"How did you get my address?"

"From Helen Emery. Jessica recently moved into Helen's house. We found a photo album belonging to Stacy. We thought Lana might want it."

"You can give it to me. I'll see that she gets it."

"I'm afraid that we're going to need to give it directly to Lana," Sean said, his tone firm and determined.

Connie hesitated. "Lana doesn't want any contact with Helen."

"She doesn't have to have contact with Helen, just with us," he said.

Jessica could see the indecision in Connie's eyes. "Can I ask why Lana is still so angry with Helen?" she interjected. "Helen told us that she hasn't seen Lana in years. Or her grandson, Blake."

"Helen never liked Lana. She treated her terribly. I don't know all the details, but I know she was awful to my sister."

"This isn't about Helen; this is about Stacy," Sean said. "I owe it to my friend to see that her mother gets her photo album."

"I'm not sure Lana would want it," Connie said. "It would just be a painful reminder of the terrible loss she suffered."

"That should be her decision, don't you think?" Sean asked.

Connie stared back at them. "Wait here." She shut the door.

Sean let out a breath and dug his hands into his pockets as he turned to face her. "What do you think?"

"I think she's calling her sister. Or maybe her sister is inside."

"I don't understand what happened between Lana and Helen. It was obviously big enough to last beyond Robert and Stacy's deaths and then another twenty years."

"I can kind of understand it. If I didn't see my former mother-in-law ever again, I'd be okay with it."

"But you will see her because of Kyle."

She sighed. "You're right. I will, because I can't deprive Kyle of his grandmother, no matter how awful she is. But I'm going to keep the visits as minimal as I can."

"Lana obviously didn't feel a need to keep Blake close to Helen at all."

"Maybe it was the house, the fact that Helen moved in after the fire. Maybe Lana didn't like that."

"She was gone; she didn't want it. Why would she care who lived there?"

"I guess we won't know until we talk to her. Hopefully, that will happen."

Ten minutes passed. Jessica was beginning to think Connie had deserted them when the door finally opened again.

Connie handed Sean a piece of paper. "I spoke to my sister. She said she'll see you. This is her address. She lives in Seascape, it's about thirty minutes north of here."

"I know where it is," Sean said. "Thank you."

Connie didn't bother to answer, just gave a nod, and closed her door.

"We got her address," Sean said, a pleased smile in his eyes.

She wondered if he was going to look quite so happy when they actually met Lana, because seeing Stacy's mother again was bound to raise some painful memories.

* * *

It took them close to thirty minutes to get to Lana's home, which was a two-story townhouse in a development near the Seascape Country Club. Sean found a parking spot near the front of her building.

"I wonder if Lana married again," Jessica mused. "We should have asked Connie."

"I doubt she was going to tell us anything about her sister."

"True." As Sean put his hand on the door handle, Jessica said, "Wait."

He gave her an expectant look. "What's the problem?"

"What do you want to get out of this, Sean?"

"I want to give Lana her daughter's photo album."

"And…"

"I don't know beyond that," he admitted.

"Are you going to ask her about the fire?"

"I'd like to hear what she knows about it, but I'm going to play it by ear." He tilted his head. "What are you worried about, Jess?"

"I'm worried about you. I don't have a good vibe when it comes to Lana Emery. And I don't want her to hurt you."

"How could she hurt me?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"She was always nice to me when I was a kid."

"I'm probably worried about nothing."

"Let's find out."

Sean thought he was ready to see Lana again, but when she opened the door and he found himself looking into Lana's eyes—eyes that reminded him so much of Stacy, his confidence faltered. Jessica's question echoed through his mind.
What did he want out of this meeting?

Was he looking for answers or absolution from the guilt that had plagued him for so long?

Or was he hoping that Lana would rip into him, that they would finally have the confrontation he'd always been afraid was coming? Because he couldn't imagine why in the world Lana wouldn't blame him for Stacy's death.

Swallowing hard, he drew in a deep breath, realizing that Lana was staring just as hard at him as he was at her. She was twenty years older than when he'd last seen her, but she'd aged well. Her shoulder-length hair was golden blond, not a trace of gray. Her skin was flawless, her figure thin and toned in a pair of tight black pants and a silky white top with a thick heavy necklace.

He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Emery," he said, finally finding his voice.

"Sean Callaway. Even if my sister hadn't told me you were coming, I would have recognized your blue eyes anywhere. You were such a cute kid, but here you are—all grown up." She shook her head in bemusement. "I don't know why I'm surprised. Blake is an adult now, too. But in my mind you're still eight years old—frozen in time."

She'd been frozen in time for him, too. But looking closer, he could see lines of age around her eyes and mouth. He searched for a way to begin the conversation. He'd told Jessica he'd take the lead, but now he didn't know where to start.

Lana's gaze moved from him to Jessica. "And you are?"

"Jessica Schilling. I'm renting your old house."

"Where's Helen?"

"She moved into an assisted living facility last month," Jessica answered. "She hired me to go through her house and determine where everything should go, what should be given away, and what should be thrown out."

"Is Helen dying?" Lana asked, her tone somewhat cold.

"Uh, I don't think so," Jessica said. "She told me that she couldn't drive anymore and needed to be in a place where it was easier to get transportation and help with meals. But I don't think she's sick."

"It's hard to picture Helen as a frail old lady," Lana said, a tart edge in her voice.

"She said the two of you haven't seen each other since Stacy and Robert died."

"I doubt Helen has missed me. She hated my guts. She never thought I was good enough for her son."

"I know what that feels like," Jessica said with a nod. "I had a similar experience with my mother-in-law."

Lana's tension seemed to ease at Jessica's words, and Sean was extremely grateful that Jessica had taken control of the conversation. They needed to build a rapport with Lana, and thanks to Jessica, that's exactly what was happening.

"Helen was extremely judgmental," Lana continued. "Robert refused to stand up to her. He would never take my side. As far as he was concerned, his mother could do no wrong." Her lips tightened. "Helen blamed me for the fire. She told me I should have been at home, I should have taken care of the car. I should have made sure there were fire extinguishers in the garage. She had a million criticisms for me, never mind the fact that I was mourning my husband and my child." She shook her head in disgust. "Everyone else saw Helen as this sweet lady, but I saw the other side of her, the nasty side. When I left San Francisco, I vowed never to see her again."

"You probably don't want to hear this, but Helen asked me to tell you that she was sorry," Jessica said.

"You're right. I don't want to hear it." Lana straightened. "More importantly, I don't believe it. If she said that, she had a reason."

"She did say that she missed her grandson."

Lana gave an unrepentant shrug. "She can say whatever she wants, but she never tried that hard to see Blake. She's always known where my sister was. She gave you Connie's address, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"You found me in one day. Helen could have done the same, if she really wanted to. She didn't. And Blake has another grandmother, so he hasn't missed out on having a grandparent. Anyway…my sister told me that you have something that belonged to Stacy."

"Yes, her photo album, and there's a second album as well," Jessica answered. "I'll get them from the car."

"Can we come in and speak to you for a few minutes?" Sean asked, as Jessica went back to the van to retrieve the albums. He didn't want to just hand over the books and leave. "I'd like to hear what Blake is doing. I've thought about him often over the years."

Lana hesitated and then tipped her head. "All right. Come in." She left the door open for Jessica, then ushered him into the living room.

The décor was a mix of white and chrome, modern sofas and chairs with expensive art on the walls. The far wall of the living room was all glass and looked out over a beautiful patio and the golf course beyond.

Jessica entered the room and set the albums down on the coffee table. Sean took a seat on the couch next to her while Lana settled in the armchair across from them.

"So tell me about Blake," Sean said.

"He owns a website design company," Lana replied. "He's doing really well, and he's getting married this summer to a beautiful girl. Theresa is a pediatric nurse."

"That's great. Blake always liked to draw."

"From when he was a very young boy," Lana agreed. "Stacy never cared much for coloring."

Sean smiled. "No, she didn't. Too much sitting involved. She liked action. She always wanted to throw a ball, climb a tree or ride bikes."

Lana's face paled, and she swallowed hard. "I don't think I can do this. I don't talk about Stacy. Not ever."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to say anything painful."

"Just hearing her name is painful. I think about her every day. I think about how much she's missed, how she's never going to fall in love, get married, or have children. She's never going to laugh or sing or make funny faces. I'll never hear her tell me that she loves me." Her voice broke, her lips trembling as she struggled for control. "I'm sorry. This is why I don't talk about her. It's too hard."

"It's okay," he said gently, feeling a knot growing in his throat. He'd locked Stacy away, just as her mother had done. Thinking or talking about her had brought pain, so he'd stopped doing both. And he'd only been her friend. It had to have been a thousand times worse for her mother. "I miss her, too."

"You were so close to each other." Lana gave him an emotional smile. "I remember one time when your mother and I were watching you two play at the park. I don't remember which one of us said it, but it was something along the lines of, wouldn't it be fun if you and Stacy grew up and fell in love and had one of those love stories that started when you were in kindergarten and never ended."

Her words made him uncomfortable. He'd loved Stacy as an eight-year-old loves a friend, nothing more. Whether they would have even stayed friends forever was a question that couldn't be answered.

"I'm sure Stacy would have grown up to be a beauty. She would have had her pick of men." He cleared his throat. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about the fire? Since Jessica moved into the house, I've been thinking more and more about that night. I was too young to understand what happened then, but I'd like to understand now."

"What do you want to know?"

"How did the fire start?"

"They said it started in the garage, that a spark, possibly from the car, ignited the paint thinner and some of the other cleaning solutions that we stored out there."

That backed up what Emma had told him. "Was there something wrong with the car?"

"We'd been having trouble getting it started that week. One of the firefighters suggested that Robert might have been working on the car, but that didn't really make sense to me. My husband was not the kind of man who worked on automobiles. The only thing he knew how to do was change the oil. He might have put up the hood and taken a look, but beyond that…" She shrugged. "I didn't see how that could start a fire." She paused, frowning. "However, it's possible he went into the garage to smoke. I wouldn't let him smoke in the house, and he was trying to quit, but when he got tense, he liked to light up a cigarette."

"Did the firefighters find any cigarettes or a lighter?" Jessica put in.

"I don't really know. They sent me a report a few weeks after the fire, but I didn't look at it."

Sean was beginning to see a pattern. Lana didn't look at anything that bothered her.