The Best Medicine

Chapter 27



“ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T want me to take you home first?” Tyler asked as we jumped into his Jeep to head over to the jewelry store where his mother was waiting, presumably in handcuffs.


“No, it’ll take you twenty extra minutes to drop me off. Just take me with you.”

His jaw was set, muscles clenched. I couldn’t blame him. This was hardly the best way for me to meet his mother. I could tell he was angry with her, and worried and embarrassed. My mother had a great many flaws, but at least shoplifting wasn’t one of them. This was awkward.

The drive was silent but mercifully short, and within minutes we pulled up in front of the store.

Tyler started to say something, then just shook his head. “You may as well come with me.”

Dark-haired Tilly Mason, owner of Mason’s Jewelry Store, met us at the front door. The closed sign had been turned around and most of the lights were off.

“Come on in, Ty,” she said as if this wasn’t the first time she’d been through this scenario.

“Hi, Tilly. Thanks for not calling the police. I owe you one.”

She shut the door behind us and locked it. “No, now we’re even. Thanks for saving my dad’s life when he had that heart attack. But Ty, she can’t take stuff from here.”

We walked to the back of the store as he answered, “I know. I’ll talk to her. And the next time she comes in, you just shoo her right back on out.”

Tilly opened another door leading to a small room, and there sat a pretty, petite woman who looked very much like her son, with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She looked tired, though. Not just from fatigue or from the situation. Her forehead had the kind of creases that come from life nipping at you constantly. I could do something about those lines if she wanted me to, but it would be rude to mention it, under the circumstances.

She stood up from the chair and reached out to hug him. “Oh, Ty. Thanks for coming. I would’ve called Carl, but, well, it’s his bowling night, so I called you instead.”

She stepped back before reaching him and sniffled into a damp tissue. She’d seen me, and her eyes went round in surprise.

“Oh, goodness. My goodness. You must be Dr. Rhoades.” She reached up to smooth her disheveled hair and blushed furiously. She straightened her blouse and threw a glare at Tyler, as if to say how could you?

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. . . .” My voice trailed off as I realized I didn’t know her last name. She’d had two more husbands since marrying Tyler’s dad. Plus, all things considered, it wasn’t really that nice to meet her. Not under these conditions. I gave her a clumsy little wave and retreated into the corner of the room.

Tyler stepped closer to her, his voice stern. “Mom, the next time you try to lift something from Mason’s store, Tilly is going to press charges. You’re lucky as hell she didn’t call the cops on you this time. What were you thinking?”

His mother’s lips trembled. “I wanted to get Scotty something nice for his birthday.”

“By stealing it?”

“I wasn’t stealing it. I was carrying it closer to the window because the light was better over there. If that heartless Tilly Mason didn’t keep this place so dark, I wouldn’t have had to do that. A mole couldn’t shop in here, it’s so dark.”

She peered around Tyler toward the store owner, her pointed glance an empty accusation.

Tilly crossed her arms. “That watch was in your purse, Donna. I’m not an idiot. And I’m not heartless either. If I was, you’d be in jail. Maybe I should call the police now instead of letting Ty take you home with a warning.”

He held up his hands between the two women. “OK, OK. Let’s get this settled as amicably as possible.” He turned to Tilly. “I really appreciate you being discreet about this, Tilly. I’ll take my mom now and we’ll get out of here. How does that sound?”

“That sounds good.” She leaned around him and shook a finger at his mother. “But don’t you come back in here, Donna.”

Tyler’s mother sniffed. “As if I would. And don’t you shake a finger at me, young lady, or I’ll tell your mother how you used to smoke outside St. Aloysius instead of going in to mass.”

Tilly leaned forward, shaking her finger again. “You tell her that and I’ll tell everyone you drank communion   wine every Wednesday when you were supposed to be dusting the altar.”

I pressed my lips tight. I shouldn’t be laughing. Shoplifting was a criminal offense and clearly this wasn’t the first occurrence, but the image of Tyler’s mother with a feather duster in one hand and a gold chalice of cheap red wine was damn funny. And any minute now these two ladies were going to start a slap-fest.

“OK!” Tyler said again. He grasped his mother by the wrist. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Where’s my purse?” Donna asked as she trotted along behind him, and I followed.

“It’s on the counter near the front door,” Tilly said. “So you won’t have a chance to stuff anything else in there.”

“Thanks again, Tilly,” Tyler said gruffly as we walked out the door.

I walked past her and gave up another awkward wave. “I’m Evelyn, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

She smiled for the first time since we’d arrived. “Evelyn? You mean Bonfire Evelyn? Nice to meet you too.”



The ride from Mason’s Jewelry Store to Tyler’s mother’s house was oppressively silent until Donna finally said, “Well, Dr. Rhoades, what you must think. But all I can say is I never in my life stole anything. That Tilly Mason drinks, you know.”

“Mom. Stop talking,” Tyler said. “Just. Stop. Talking. Please.”

His mother’s house was a beige-and-brown structure designed to look like a Swiss chalet set against a backdrop of huge white pine trees. An old, rusted, mint-green pickup truck sat next to the garage. It looked like it had been parked there for a decade and a half. Tall beach grass grew up all around it.

Gravel crunched under our feet as we got out and three black Labrador retrievers bounded into the yard, greeting us with effusive barking. Carl was on the front porch smoking a cigarette. His face was in shadows, but the blue terry cloth robe was a dead giveaway. I could just barely see it in the fading light.

“Donna, where’ve you been?” he called out. “I had Salisbury steak and tater tots all heated up and ready to go for dinner. It was my night to cook.” He stepped forward. “Oh, well, hiya, Doc.”

He ground out his cigarette on the porch railing as we walked up the steps. My peripheral vision caught Tyler shaking his head.

“Carl, you remember Evelyn?”

I held out my hand. “Nice to see you, Carl.”

He caught up my fingers and kissed the back of them, arching a white eyebrow. “A pleasure, Evelyn. Welcome to our home. May I interest you in a sloe gin fizz?”

“Carl, Mom has something to tell you,” Tyler said, taking my hand from his stepfather’s grasp and leading me inside. “It’s eighty degrees out here. Aren’t you a little bit hot in that bathrobe?”

Carl smoothed the lapel. “I love this robe. You mother gave me this robe. Didn’t you, Donna?” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “But where’ve you been?”

“Shopping,” she said noncommittally.

We walked inside. The house was a mishmash of tacky collectibles; tarnished framed photos; old, tattered magazines; mismatched furniture; and dead animals. Fortunately, those animals were just heads mounted on the walls. A few deer, a fox, a rabbit, and what looked to be your average, garden-variety billy goat.


“What do you think of my hunting trophies, Red?” Carl asked, walking in behind us and lighting up another cigarette.

“Did I mention Carl’s a taxidermist?” Tyler whispered in my ear. “These are all things he’s shot himself.”

A goat? Where was the sport in killing a goat?

We walked through the cluttered family room into a yellow kitchen with gold-flecked linoleum. A scarred-up pine table filled the center of the room. Everything here was frayed and well used.

“I’m sorry about the state of the house, Dr. Rhoades. We’ve been meaning to clean it,” his mother said.

“Oh, it looks fine,” I assured her. “Please call me Evie.”

Her smile was strained, and she reached up to pat her hair again.

Carl stepped around us. “Move over, Donna. I was just about to make the doc here a sloe gin fizz. You want one, Ty?”

“No drinks for us, Carl. We just came to drop Mom off. She had a little episode at Mason’s Jewelry Store.”

Carl turned and looked at his wife, and then at Tyler. “What kind of episode?”

“She tried to steal a watch.”

Donna stepped forward and put her arm on Carl’s. “It was for Scotty. He’s leaving soon and it’s his birthday, so I wanted to get him something special.”

Carl’s eyebrows lifted, his lips pursed. “A watch, huh? You never stole me a watch.”

“I think you’re missing the point here, Carl,” Tyler said, visibly deflating.

His stepfather shrugged. “No, no. I get it. She’s not supposed to steal stuff. Donna, Donna, Donna. Shame on you. Do you want a sloe gin fizz?”

He turned back to the counter and started pulling bottles from the cupboard.

Tyler sighed and looked at me, his gaze vulnerable and raw. I smiled back, because what else could I do? I reached out and took his hand. I wanted to kiss him then and tell him this was all fine. Hilary might be right. His family was a f*cking train wreck. But they were his family, and so that was that. It didn’t change my opinion of him, and I wanted him to know.

“I’d like a sloe gin fizz,” I said. “And then can you show me your dad’s boat?”

About half an hour later, we made our way down a dirt path to an ancient barn. Tyler unlatched the door, and the hinges creaked as it swung open. It smelled like straw and old wood inside, and off to the left I could see what looked like a workbench covered in tools.

An old red pickup truck was right in the front, but what caught my eye was what was behind it.

“There it is. A thirty-eight-foot Bertram. Sturdy as hell. You could take that thing out into the ocean if you wanted to.”

I walked over and touched the hull. “Why does it seem so much bigger than those boats we saw at the marina?”

Tyler’s smile was indulgent. “Because it’s not half underwater?”

“Oh. Yeah. For a smart girl, I guess I should have figured that out myself. So what would it take to get this in the water?”

He looked at me as if that question was just as silly as the first. “A trailer?”

My hands landed on my hips. “I mean money-wise, smartass. How much would it cost to start up your dad’s charter company again?”

He looked down. “Oh, that. A lot. Probably forty or fifty grand by the time I made repairs to the boat and got it tricked out with fish-finding sonar and rods and such. Plus there’s the monthly rent on the slip out at the marina, and the gas for this thing is diesel, so that’s not cheap either. It all adds up pretty fast. At least keeping it here is free.”

“It’s such a shame to have it just sitting here.”

He stepped closer and put his hands on my hips, right over my own hands. “Well,” he said, “it is just sitting here. But it does have a comfy berth. Should we check it out?”

I looked around this dusty old barn and looped my arms around his shoulders. “Tempting. But I have a better idea. Let’s go to my place and I’ll float your boat over there.”