Tattered Legacy (A Nora Abbott Mystery) (5 page)

Eight

The little bell above
the door tinkled and the wooden floor creaked as Nora walked into the Read Rock. The musty smell of old books lingered in the cool air, making the shop feel comforting after the blazing sun outside.

Nora realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out and inhaled. She’d never heard such heaviness in Cole’s voice. He had to be hurting about his father, but he didn’t want to talk about it. She’d give him time before she pushed. Maybe he knew how much Lisa’s death pained her and wanted to give her support. She wanted nothing more than to hurry back to him and feel his arms around her. But first, she needed to get a copy of Lisa’s film. According to Lisa, she’d completed everything except one video session and the final edits.

Darrell stood in front of her, all warm sympathy again. “You’re frowning. Are you worried about the presentation to the committee? Don’t be. Even without Lisa’s film, I’ll make a great case for expanding Canyonlands’ borders.”

No simple presentation would pack the wallop that viewing the iconic landscapes would. Lisa had created time-lapse footage with stars and sun trading places and views of pristine sunrises juxtaposed with damage from tar sands mining.

If there was no film, Nora might as well start sending out her r
é
sum
é
again. Just the thought of leaving the Trust hurt. Nora’s position at Living Earth Trust was so much more than a paycheck, even a much-needed one. For twenty-five years, the Trust had done good work for the environment. But recently, it had been tainted with scandal and murder and corrupt leadership. In the last few months as ex
ecutive director, Nora had worked endless hours repairing its
rep-
utation. She’d flown from coast to coast meeting with past and potential donors. She’d staked her personal integrity, taking responsibility for the programs and policies coming out of the Trust. Another disruption could finish the Trust, and all the good work would stop. Nora would lose the anchor of a job that gave her life meaning.

Darrell’s voice brought her out of her funk. “It’ll be okay. I can be very convincing. You can come with me, and together we’ll make the committee understand the importance of preserving this area.”

Maybe Darrell was right. Probably he wasn’t. “I’ll get a backup of the film and figure out how to edit it,” Nora told him.

Darrell looked skeptical.

The door opened again. The sunshine outlined a slightly stooped, thin man with a halo of unruly hair.

Nora grinned. “Excuse me,” she mumbled to Darrell, leaping around him and running the two steps to fling herself at the grizzled old man. “Charlie!”

His arms circled her in a bear hug. “You are a vision of loveliness.”

She loved the way he always spoke, as if acting in a melodrama. “I didn’t know you were here, too!”

He patted her arm. “It’s tough when your friends leave this world. Your mother and I thought you’d need us with you.”

Nora squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He scrutinized her. “How’re you holdin’ up?”

Why did he have to ask? Her throat closed up, and she fought tears.

“Nora. Dear.” Abigail spoke from behind Nora.

Nora didn’t anticipate her reaction when she turned to see her mother. She stepped into Abigail’s comforting embrace, probably surprising them both.

Abigail patted her back. “There, there.” Her soft words lasted only seconds. She took Nora by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length. Abigail reached up with a tissue that had magically appeared in her hands and dabbed at the tears streaming down Nora’s face. “Since you don’t wear makeup, at least you don’t have black streaks.” Yep, typical Abigail. Thank goodness some things didn’t change.

Abigail lowered her voice. “You have to be strong for Rachel. She’s going to need you now.” Then she turned to Charlie. She placed her white hands on either side of his Velcro face and planted a solid kiss on his lips. “Thank you for parking the car, dear.”

Charlie glowed in his worship of Abigail.

Darrell approached them. He held out his hand to Abigail. “Hi. I’m Darrell Burke.”

Abigail slipped her hand into his and smiled. “Abigail Podanski. This is my husband, Charles.”

Charles? Nora raised her eyebrows at Charlie. He had been one of her closest friends for years. But once he’d laid eyes on Abigail, he’d been a goner. No one, ever, in a million years, would think of him as Charles. No one, that is, except her mother.

Charlie locked eyes with Nora, shrugged, and gave her a little grin.

Darrell shook Charlie’s hand. “Were you friends with Lisa?”

Abigail’s mouth tightened. “What a lively spirit. I can’t believe it’s been snuffed out. How did you know Lisa?”

Nora tuned out while Darrell explained. She looked around the bookstore. All the guests had disappeared, leaving only their little group and Rachel.

Charlie nudged Nora and tilted his head toward Rachel. Rachel stood alone, her eyes unfocused.

She should go speak to Rachel. Nora understood how confused and alone a person felt, how you quit thinking and doing ordinary things when your spouse dies. When Scott died, Charlie and Abigail had helped Nora.

Nora took a tentative step toward Rachel, then another, and soon stood directly in front of her. She opened her mouth to ask about the film but couldn’t do it. “Can I drive you home?”

Rachel’s head snapped up and her eyes focused. The sorrow turned hard. “You … ”

Abigail appeared and took Rachel’s hand. “It looks like everyone has gone. Charles is bringing the car around. We’ll take you home.”

Rachel gave Abigail a tired smile. “Thank you.”

Abigail linked her arm with Rachel’s and they started for the door. Abigail looked back at Nora. She raised her eyebrows, indicated the box on the table and Nora, and gave her head a “come-on” wag. Translation: Bring the box to Rachel’s house.

Great idea. It sounded like Rachel blamed Nora for Lisa’s death. The last thing she needed was for Nora to traipse into her home uninvited.

And yet, there sat Lisa. Since Nora had brought her from the creek, it seemed like her responsibility to look out for her the way Lisa had always looked out for everyone.

Nora remembered the first week of their freshman year at CU. She’d been in the communal bathroom on their dorm floor, brushing her teeth. Someone was taking a shower. A pale girl from several doors down crept into the bathroom. She slipped into a stall. Within seconds, the sound of sobbing wafted over the stall walls.

Nora didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard the poor girl’s misery, but knocking on the stall door seemed inappropriate. She stood, paralyzed by indecision.

Water turned off in the shower and the curtain swished aside. A petite girl with dark hair that curled despite the weight of the water drenching it wrapped a towel around herself. She strode to the closed stall door. “My name is Lisa. What is it, honey?”

“Please. Go away.” The girl’s voice barely carried in the echo chamber of the tiled bathroom.

It was as if Lisa broke a barrier and Nora was able to act. She joined Lisa at the stall door. Together they talked the girl out of the stall and coaxed her to talk.

Charlotte came from rural southern Colorado and trusted everyone. The attention of an older guy thrilled and flattered her. Until the creep got himself invited to her dorm room, didn’t understand the word no, and nearly raped her.

As soon as Lisa got the story, she stomped from the bathroom, not bothering to dress. Nora bounded after her, and they burst into Charlotte’s room in time to confront the weasel.

It still tickled Nora remembering Lisa, with the towel barely covering her, giving the shocked creep what-for.

Nora and Lisa had been friends ever since.

Curtains concealing a passage at the back of the bookstore parted and a tall woman peered out. She scanned the store, eyes resting briefly on Nora and dismissing her. She flowed out of the back room and into the store. She appeared to be around fifty and had the face of someone used to being outdoors: weathered and wrinkled, browned by the sun. Her gray hair was shorn short enough that it spiked at the top of her head, and the large hooped earrings she wore dangled nearly to her shoulders. She wore a long skirt and blouse in the deep reds, oranges, and golds of a desert. She appeared solid and strong under the rich fabric.

She moved with purpose but didn’t hurry as she reached under the counter and pulled out a trash bag. She started at the refreshment table, tossing the disposable dishes into the bag.

Nora felt she should say something. “Can I give you a hand cleaning up?”

The woman didn’t look up. She wound the plastic table covering, careful to keep the crumbs from spilling out. “I can do it.”

“You must be Marlene,” Nora said.

The woman stopped moving. She raised her eyes to Nora. They were dark and full of suspicion. “That’s right.”

Nora tried to look harmless. She didn’t know why Marlene should be worried. “I’m Nora Abbott. A friend of Lisa’s.”

Marlene studied her. “The one who gave her the funding for the film.”

Nora nodded. “She loved this bookstore. She told me she spent a lot of time here.”

Marlene turned pale. A moment passed, and she started to breathe again. “I’m going to miss her.”

She moved on to the next table. Nora met her there and picked up empty plates and cups. She stuffed them in Marlene’s trash bag. “She told me this place was her office away from home. She liked to come here when she felt stymied.”

Marlene’s mask of control slipped. Her smile looked heavy, like sand after the tide. “She was so smart. So quick-witted. She had that sort of energy people envied.” Marlene stuffed the table covering into the bag. “You knew her a long time, didn’t you?”

Nora nodded. “Since freshman year. Sometimes we wouldn’t see each other for a while, but every time we talked, it was like picking up the conversation mid-sentence.”

Marlene nodded and tied the bag. “She was special.”

Nora followed Marlene to the sales counter. “It was really great that we could work together on this film.”

Marlene stared out the front window. “She was committed to it. Maybe more than she should have been.”

“What do you mean?”

Marlene turned her focus to Nora. It felt as though her dark gaze seeped inside of Nora, exploring her worthiness. After a moment she spoke slowly. “It caused problems between her and Rachel.”

That landed heavy on Nora. “She didn’t say anything to me about it, but I had suspicions.”

Marlene raised one eyebrow. “It’s hard to overcome your up-
bringing.”

Lisa had said the same thing.

Marlene moved out from behind the counter and flipped one of the tables over. Nora worked at folding up the table legs. “Because she’s from here?”

Marlene hefted the table and set it against the wall. “Rachel loved Lisa. The Mormons aren’t so big on lesbians. Until Lisa showed up, no one knew Rachel was gay. But suddenly, here is Lisa with all these liberal notions of protecting land that’s been in their hands for generations,
and
she scoops up one of the local girls.”

“People around here didn’t like Lisa, is that what you’re saying?”

“No, what I’m saying is that people around here hated Lisa.”

“But so many people came to the funeral.”

Marlene smiled. “The people who loved Lisa aren’t locals. They’re the transplants, the newbies, the outsiders. They aren’t Mormon. They love this land just as an art aficionado loves Rembrandt. The old-time Mormons love it as a member of the family.”

Nora gave Marlene a questioning look.

“It’s this way: The environmentalists want to preserve it. Tread gently on the trails, gaze at the arches and hoodoos. Sit quietly and contemplate its beauty. The Mormons want to live on it, work it. Fight with it to give them sustenance, care for it so it stays healthy and productive. Do you see the difference?”

Nora summed it up. “Conservationists want to put it in the parlor and cover it in plastic, and locals want to sit on it and watch TV?”

Marlene laughed. It changed her whole appearance. She went from stern and formidable to friendly and accessible, and Nora could see why Lisa had found refuge in this place and with this woman. “Not exactly how I would put it, but you get the idea.”

They moved to the next folding table, the one that held Lisa’s ashes. Marlene clenched her fists, her face suddenly pasty.

Nora reached for the box and transferred it to the counter next to the cash register. “You weren’t out at the creek, and you didn’t come out of the back room while everyone was here.”

Marlene busied herself with clearing the table. “I’ll say goodbye to Lisa in my own way.”

Fair enough. Marlene seemed a curious mixture between stern and loving, restrained and straightforward. “Did you and Lisa talk about the film?”

Marlene brought her eyes slowly to Nora’s. “She talked about it to everyone. You know Lisa—whatever churned in her head frothed out her mouth.”

“She said she only had one more shooting session and she would wrap it up.”

Marlene dumped the table over and Nora hurried over to help fold up its legs.

Marlene straightened and stared out the window again. Maybe she waited out waves of pain to keep from breaking down. “Everything she did was the most important thing. The next moment, there would be a new most important thing. She leaped from peak to peak.” Marlene hefted the table across the room.

Maybe Nora wouldn’t have to bother Rachel. “She didn’t happen to leave a backup here, or do you know where she stored them?”

Marlene slammed the table on the floor and spun around. “How should I know? If I felt like chatting about Lisa and her life and her work, I’d have joined the gathering at the creek or at least come out of the back room. I lost my friend, and I don’t feel like being social.”

Nora’s face burned. Her whole body felt on fire from Marlene’s anger. She hurried across the room to retrieve the box. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”