Their little work crew of four gathered to help Kaine on this sunny Saturday afternoon. Joy and Megan were downstairs stirring up some refreshments Joy had hauled in her car while Grant and Kaine were beginning demolition—of sorts. Kaine dug her crowbar into the floor to pry up a board.
She paused and stole a glance at Grant, who had already pried up three floorboards to her one. He caught her staring and offered her his signature crooked smile. “What’s up?”
Kaine glanced back at the floor and winced. “I was just thinking, what if we find a body buried here? Under the floor.”
Grant’s chuckle filled the room. “Well, it’d be bones by now, if that happened.”
“Let’s hope,” she said, prying up the board with her crowbar. “But I can’t help but relate to Ivy—to Gabriella. I have this gut feeling there’s way more to their story, and now here I am in a similar situation. I can’t even be in my own home alone for fear I’ll be attacked.” The floorboard popped up with a loud snap. Kaine threw the board onto their newly started pile and turned to Grant. “I’m glad you’re here, but . . . you can’t always be with me.”
“Here we are!” Joy’s singsongy voice interrupted them. She lofted a tray of lemonade, her specialty. Hand-squeezed lemon and orange juice mixed with water and lots of sugar.
Kaine lowered her crowbar. Megan followed her mother in, her smile mimicking Joy’s. Joy poured the drink and handed Kaine a cup. She took a long gulp.
“Wow.” Kaine licked her lips after tasting the lemonade. “This is amazing.” She drained the last of her lemonade, her mouth delighting in the mixture of citrus and sugar. Sweetness. She needed that in her life to overcome the sour.
“My grandmother’s recipe.” Joy tweaked Megan’s nose, and the girl laughed. She ducked from her mother’s affectionate play. “She taught it to me when I was little. I used to squeeze the oranges while she mangled the lemons into something sweet.”
“More, Kaine?” Megan raised the pitcher with a worshipful expression on her face.
“Absolutely, sweets.” Kaine held out her red plastic cup.
Joy perched in a pink camouflage camp chair she’d brought with her. Her version of help was food, drinks, and chatter.
“Joy, did your grandmother grow up in Oakwood?” Kaine took a sip. She tossed Grant a quick look over the rim of her cup. Grant narrowed his eyes.
Joy blinked and her ruby earrings bobbed in a haphazard dance as she shook her head. “Her later years, yes. She was born in Canada actually, but other than that, she never talked much about her childhood.”
“Did she know my great-great-grandmother?” Kaine sank into another camp chair, this one with the Green Bay Packers logo printed on its back.
Joy’s laugh filled the room. “Oh, buttercup, you age me. My grandmother knowing your great-great-grandmother makes me realize just how old I am.”
Megan patted her mother’s hand as if Joy was experiencing authentic distress.
“Oh, honey, I’m teasing.” Joy squeezed her daughter’s hand. She turned back to Kaine. “My grandmother did know Ivy. She thought highly of her too, and Ivy’s family.”
Kaine set her cup on the floor. “Did she share any memories of Ivy? Her family? Babies?”
“Babies?” Joy wrinkled her nose. “Funny you should ask. That’s one thing my grandmother always brought up. How Ivy wasn’t much for children or babies. She was very independent and private, and while she was kind toward children, she didn’t gravitate to them like most women do. But she did have her own. Daughters, I believe.”
“Daughters? One of them must have been my grandpa’s mom, then.”
“I thought there were three girls, but I don’t recall exactly.” Joy crossed her leg over her knee and bounced it up and down. “I suppose I could have my facts mixed up. It was my grandmother who made sure Ivy had a memorial in the museum. Along with Ivy’s journal and the memory quilt that disappeared way back when.”
Kaine shot Grant a look. She gave her head a little shake. She’d prefer he not reveal she had Ivy’s quilt in her possession. She wasn’t ready to try to explain how it ended up back in her family.
“Memory quilt?” Kaine evaded any explanation. She noticed Grant take a drink from his cup. Good. He wasn’t going to say anything.
“Yep. She made a quilt with patches from the clothes of her dead brother.” Joy reached over and pulled Megan’s camp chair closer to her.
“Her dead brother?”
“I think she said his name was . . . Adam? Andrew? Grandma said Ivy was an odd duck. She kept to herself most of the time. The town always figured that when her brother died, it traumatized Ivy.”
“If your grandmother thought Ivy was so peculiar, why did she want to have her memory quilt and a story with such limited information kept at the museum?”
Joy shrugged, and her earrings dangled and caught the sunlight. “I always wondered that myself. Frankly, I have no idea.”
Kaine caught Grant looking at her. He had been protective since the other night when she’d knocked on his door. She wasn’t used to it. The way he took off work to help her, then went with her to the museum, and texted her at night to be sure she was all right. A part of her was thankful for his self-appointed guardianship, especially since they hadn’t known each other that long. Another part of her worried she was just a psychological challenge to him. A case of grief with lots of baggage, which he wanted a shot at cracking.
Danny had been protective, but in a mild way, not like the intense dedication that oozed from Grant. Danny was more longing, as if he would protect her but knew that, in reality, she was stronger than he was. It had worked—their marriage—but Kaine had found security in the fact Danny didn’t probe into who she really was or into her memories. One look into Grant’s eyes and she knew he was born to analyze, question, and diagnose. That was both comforting and disconcerting.
Her cellphone rang. Kaine reached into her pocket and pulled out the phone. She eyed it warily. It was a California number. Not Leah’s or one of her long-ostracized friends or co-workers, but at least it was a number and not Caller ID Unknown. She tapped the green button on the screen.
“Kaine Prescott?”
It was a female voice. “Yes?”
“Sorry to call you on a Saturday, but this is Detective Tamara Hanson. I believe your sister spoke to you already?”
“Oh!” Kaine jumped to her feet and threw Grant a look to assure him everything was okay. Finally! She’d wanted a new phone since the suspicious call, but hadn’t wanted to miss Detective Hanson’s call. She hurried from the room and into the hallway. “Yes, Leah did. Thank you for looking into my husband’s case again.”
“I had questions about how thoroughly the case was investigated after your testimony.”
Kaine wasn’t sure what to say.