Yesterday's Gone (Two Daughters Book 1) (14 page)

“What? Mine?” Bailey took a step back. “You can’t just give me something like this.” She sounded as freaked as she felt, but Karen only tilted her head to one side and considered her.

“Of course I can. I’ve already made one for Eve. For hers I used gypsy colors—reds and purples, vivid motion like women dancing with skirts swirling. You need something different.” She hesitated. “Maybe I’m wrong and these aren’t your colors...”

“They are,” Bailey said in a choked voice, her gaze drawn back to a quilt that wasn’t made up of the standard, symmetrical blocks but rather of pieces that curved and flowed into each other. “This makes me think of a pool in a Japanese garden.”

“Serenity.” She nodded. “It’s yours.” She began to fold it with brisk, practiced movements. “I don’t know what size your bed is.”

“Twin, actually.”

“Oh.” She stopped. “Oh, dear. This one is queen-size. It would be fine on a double bed, but— Maybe I should make you one instead.”

Seized by alarm, Bailey said, “No. Please. I’ll buy a new bed. I love this quilt.”

“Oh, good.” Karen had a quiet glow as she gently stuffed the quilt into a zippered bag. “There. This will protect it. Although I should probably ship it to you, shouldn’t I?”

“I can carry it on my flight.” She didn’t want to let it out of her sight. “No one’s ever given me anything like this. I don’t know what to say.” And, to her chagrin, she was close to tears.

Karen straightened and gave her a gentle hug that was so quick, she didn’t have time to pull back or return it. Bailey was aware of a faint, lingering scent that might be lavender.

Sounding matter-of-fact, Karen said, “Shall we go have dessert? Eve is probably feeling abandoned.”

“I...yes. Of course.” Eve had shrugged and declined to join the tour of her mother’s studio, which she’d have seen a million times. She’d probably sat on the floor playing with her dolls while her mother worked. She had made a teasing reference to mom wanting to show off her new quilting machine.

Bailey had expected a sewing machine, and been fascinated by something more like a quilting frame that had to be ten feet long, with a high-tech machine poised over it that could be maneuvered with ergonomic handles. Karen had even given her a brief demonstration on the quilt currently stretched on the frame. She said the pattern was called Bear’s Paw, which Bailey could see.

Returning to the dining room, Bailey clutched her quilt as if it was a baby. Eve glanced up from her phone, her gaze going to the bundle in Bailey’s arms.

“Your first heirloom.” Her tone was kind instead of sardonic, to Bailey’s surprise.

“It’s so beautiful. Not anything like I pictured when I heard the word
quilt.
”

“No, Mom’s an artist.” Eve laid her phone on the table. “Pie, anyone?”

“Oh, I can dish it up,” Karen fussed.

“Don’t be silly, Mom.” Eve rose to her feet and gave her a passing hug. To her, it was so natural. “You did the cooking, for heaven’s sake.”

“The coffee should be ready—”

It was. Bailey poured and carried cups to the table while Eve sliced a key lime pie that looked way better than it should considering how much lunch Bailey had eaten.

She’d barely picked up her fork when Karen said, “You haven’t had any more trouble with reporters, have you?” She knew about the incident at Walgreens. “I’m glad you’re not still at the Quality Inn. I’m sure anyone could find you there. But, goodness, that cabin sounds so primitive.”

Bailey hesitated. This was supposed to be her family. They wouldn’t tell anyone where she was actually staying, would they?

“Unfortunately, they tracked me down to the cabin, too. It was kind of scary. I mean, it was late at night and they were shining flashlights in the windows.” She shuddered. “Seth—Detective Chandler—thinks these were freelancers because they were so ruthless. You know, no story, no payday.”

Eve arched her eyebrows. “I suppose he came and scared them away for you.”

Bailey met her eyes. “Yes, actually he did.”

“So now what?” Eve asked, her voice holding just enough of an edge to have Karen looking surprised before she transferred her gaze to Bailey.

“You do know we’d love to have you here, don’t you?”

Bailey forced a smile, aware Eve was watching. “I assumed. I just...don’t feel ready. I’m used to having my own space.”

Wow, how could she tell them that she was staying at Seth’s house? Something like panic bubbled in her chest. She
shouldn’t
stay with him. She could just imagine what people would think. Starting with Eve.

“We understand, of course,” Karen assured her. “It’s such a miracle having you here, I can hardly take my eyes off you, and that must make you uncomfortable. I’m afraid I can’t help it. It’s going to take time.”

“I feel...really shaken up,” Bailey confessed. In lieu of that other confession:
I am sleeping across the hall from Seth Chandler, the police detective who found me.
The one who’d dated Eve until...when? Maybe a question she should have asked.

“Of course you do.” Karen patted her arm. “I pray you can accept that we love you and that we
are
your family.”

“I do believe you are.” Somehow she managed another smile, even as she battled the claustrophobic need to make hasty excuses and leave.

Eve’s stare remained cool and direct. “So, where
are
you staying?”

Being caught out in a lie would be worse than telling the truth. “For the moment, at Seth’s.” She made it utterly casual. “He has a guest room. He thinks he knows of someone else who is away and might let me use their place, though.” That was what
might
happen, she told herself, and therefore not exactly a lie.

Eve pushed back from the table and carried her plate with half-finished pie into the kitchen.

Seemingly not noticing, Karen looked at Bailey with distress. “Oh, but when you have family—” She made a moue. “No, I won’t say any more, I promise.”

Eve reappeared. As she picked up her phone, Bailey said hastily, “I won’t be able to stay in town much longer anyway. I don’t want to lose my job, and I’ll need to get ready to start classes.”

Ignoring her, Eve announced, “I need to be off.”

Karen blinked at her. “Oh, but...”

“Thanks for lunch, Mom.” She breezed out, leaving silence in her wake.

“I didn’t realize she had to be back so early,” Karen said.

That would be because she didn’t, but Karen must be wearing blindfolds these days. Bailey felt a cramp of empathy. Once again, she was struck by the realization that she understood Eve a whole lot better than she did Karen or Kirk—or even Seth.
Seesaw
, she reminded herself. Right now, Eve probably felt as if she’d slammed down hard enough to bruise her tailbone. And her, she felt light-headed and queasy from the height.

Never happy
, she mocked herself.

Since she had no place she needed to be and she could make one other person happy, she asked to see the quilt photos.

Karen lit up. After she’d hustled away to fetch the albums, Bailey picked up her gift from where she’d carefully set it by her feet and unzipped just far enough to let her see a few inches of the tight stitches spiraling inward over a finger of sea-green batik fabric. Her chest felt tight, and she hurriedly zipped it up again before Karen could come back and see her sneaking a peek. Even though
that
would have made her happy, too.

* * *

S
ETH
DIDN
’
T
LET
himself in the house until almost seven. The first thing that hit him was a great smell that made his stomach rumble. Oh, damn—she’d promised to make dinner, hadn’t she? And he’d been a no-show.

This was a big reason even his slightly more serious relationships never took off.

“Hey.” Bailey appeared from the kitchen, wearing jeans that showed an amazing length of leg despite the really sacky Seahawks sweatshirt that disguised her breasts and hips and fell to midthigh.
Mine
, he realized.

She glanced down at herself. “I hope you don’t mind. I was cold.”

Seth shook his head. “Of course not.”

“When I left, it was hot there and hot here. I didn’t expect the temperature to plummet.”

“That’s the great Northwest for you.” After a roasting hot couple of weeks, the sky had clouded over and even showed signs of threatening rain. Happened quick in these parts. “I should have called. It smells like you made dinner. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s okay. I didn’t know when you’d get home, so I made pizzas. I already ate. I loaded them both with veggies, but if you want me to take some off...”

“Whatever I smell will be perfect.”

“You haven’t eaten?”

His stomach grumbled again. “Fast food for lunch. An aeon ago.”

Bailey smiled. “I’ll go put it in the oven.”

“That’ll give me time to take a quick shower.”

He hadn’t last night, intending his usual morning shower. Now he felt foul, more in a figurative sense than literal. Unpleasant people rubbed off on you.

The hot water felt great. He didn’t stay under it as long as he would have if he’d been alone in the house, though. The anticipation he’d felt since the minute he decided to head home was new.

Bailey was perched on one of the bar stools with that morning’s newspaper open in front of her when he returned to the kitchen. She looked up. “Can I get you a beer?”

“No, I’d take two swallows and topple over.” Unless the buzz he felt because she was here kept him awake. He passed her and reached up into a cupboard for a glass. She watched as he poured himself milk.

“Milk and pizza.” She laughed. “Not your usual combo.”

Seth tipped the glass back and guzzled before replying. “I’ve had so much coffee the last twenty-four hours, I think it burned a layer off my stomach lining. I’m trying to restore it.”

Her smile faded. “Was it awful?”

“Awful?” The murder. “I’ve seen worse. It was unusual for this town, though. We mostly have bar fights that get out of hand, domestics.” He shrugged. “This one is a genuine mystery.”

“Really?” She looked fascinated, those big blue eyes fastened on him.

He told her a little. Some would be in the morning paper for anyone to read. Some was still speculative. Apparently Geoff Moore had trouble keeping his pants zipped. His wife and he had fought about it often, but so far the benefits of being married to a successful attorney had outweighed her hurt and fury. His latest affair had been more serious, though, and it sounded as if the current girlfriend had been pressuring him to divorce his wife and marry her. Wife might have been running scared—as a widow, she’d end up a hell of a lot better off financially than she would have with a divorce settlement. Seth had got the idea Geoff had been backpedaling with the girlfriend, though, and had no intention of divorcing his wife. Girlfriend’s grief looked as false as the wife’s. She had a low-rent brother with a sheet as long as Seth’s arm, too. In fact, Geoff had met the girlfriend when he was defending her brother.

Gratitude wasn’t what it used to be, he thought sardonically.

He evaded some of Bailey’s questions, but she didn’t seem to mind. Talking lowered his stress level, until he thought tonight he could sleep. Sex first would have been good, but even if it were a possibility, he wanted to be more on his game before he tried anything with Bailey.

The oven timer went off and she hopped down despite his protests to take the pizza out of the oven and slice it for him, even pouring him a second glass of milk.

“Karen sent a couple of pieces of key lime pie, too, if you have room.”

“I’ll make room. Hey.” He decided to use a knife and fork, given that Bailey would be watching him eat. “How’d lunch go?”

“Mostly good.” A cloud seemed to pass over her mood. “Things are really tense with Eve.”

No comment
. He kept eating.

“You know about Karen’s quilting business?” She shook her head before he could answer. “You’re the one who told me about it. I didn’t know she creates her own quilts, too. They’re amazing. Eve said they’re art, which they are. The thing is, she gave one to me.” All her defenses crashed; she looked at him with bewilderment, pleasure and something like shame mixed on her face. “Can I show you?”

“I’d like to see it.”

He didn’t know enough about quilts to have any expectations. They were bedcoverings. He didn’t get the female fascination with them.

Bailey returned, a fat plastic bag with a zip top in her arms, the kind new bedding came in. Keeping well away from his pizza, she unzipped it and drew out something that had him blinking in surprise. The pieces of fabric didn’t exactly form a picture, but the colors flowed together and he had the impression of a pond with some water lilies and stitching that formed eddies. Maybe a few flat stones on the edges, possibly a couple of large leaves overhanging the water.

“It’s like an impressionist painting,” he said, after staring thunderstruck for a minute. “I had no idea she did anything like this.”

“No. I’ve been thinking of her as so...” Bailey seemed to struggle for the right description. “Small-town nice woman. Middle America. You know?”

He nodded.

“And then I find out she has this remarkable creative ability, and I’m thinking, did I know this? I mean, when I was little?”

“Would a six-year-old know something like that about her mother?” he asked. “Except that she might have been fun to do art projects with.”

“Probably not.” She stroked the quilt as if she found the surface a sensual pleasure. Seth imagined her touching him the same way. But then she looked at him and that bewilderment was still visible. “Do you know what she probably charges for a quilt like this?”

He shook his head.

“Oh, it would have to be, I don’t know, a couple of thousand dollars or more. Maybe a lot more. And she
gave
it to me.”

“Because you’re her daughter,” he said gently.

“Eve said—” Bailey swallowed. “She said it’s my first heirloom.”

He smiled. “She’s right.”

“This is so new to me. I didn’t even know how to thank her. What I said was probably totally inadequate.”