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Was my great aunt mistaken, and Colette turned out to be a goddess? Was that the mistake I keep hearing about? But would something like that have such serious repercussions? I doubt it. Was it something to do with this woman?
I turn my attention to the information on the wall and search for clues there. My eyes wander, and I scan a newspaper clipping about a homeless shelter and the work of the volunteers there. Then, I see a piece on a retirement home called Two Trees advertising an open day. I scan the short article, but there’s nothing interesting there, and the small photo accompanying itis also unremarkable: a long corridor, a series of doors, small chests of drawers between them holding vases of flowers, a couple of pictures on the walls, and large windows at the far end.
I move on, and a name catches my eye. It’s below a photo of a young woman with dark brown hair: Colette Dubois. She’s pretty, with big brown eyes and a warm smile. A piece of yarn is stretched between her photo and the kindergarten where she worked. Other threads link to people from her life. I look at the photos and read the names and information:kindergarten teacher, friend – best friend?One of the threads goes to a handwritten note: no relatives. And another reads:Submit by June 1 at the latest. Unable to confirm suspicion.
At least now I can understand the constellation around Colette a little better. All the other photos and news articles are a mystery, however. I slowly make my way along the wall, searching for another name: Patricia Morgan. At first, I find nothing, but then I catch my breath. A flyer for an art exhibition:‘Beach Combing’ by Patricia Morgan.There are photographs of her sculptures and vases as well as a couple of paintings. I also find mention of another exhibition in a newspaper clipping. It’s accompanied by a very small black-and-white photo of her: fair hair, a friendly face with big round eyes set close together. I move on and find a couple of dried flowers on the wall, a ticket stub for a musical, and several hand-written notes:3 in the morning! 3:45. Alone again.
I can’t make any sense of them, but these notes suggest that Frida must have been tailing and observing this woman. It’s unclear whether or not she had the Council’s permission to do so. But I wouldn’t put it past her to have taken matters into her own hands. Did her suspicions prove correct in the end? Or is this all just evidence that Frida got caught up in something? Something that resulted in the incident that Charles doesn’t want to talk about? I recall Mr. Brian’s words:Your great auntwas insane; she saw evil everywhere she looked. Again and again, she threw herself blindly into fights.Was he right? When I look at all this and see how far Frida intruded into these people’s lives... Did the Council condone to this approach? Did they maybe try to put Frida in her place?
She left out no detail, examined everything very closely. I look at the dried flowers again, the ticket stub. This is bordering on obsession. I return the report to its hiding place. The flap closes instantly and becomes invisible again. I take one last look around the room and then step through the door onto the landing in my mother’s house.
Hopefully, someday I’ll discover who Frida really was: a gifted hunter or a confused woman who lost herself in all these theories, threads, and ghosts.
Chapter 16
Iarrive in the surgical ward where Mom is on duty today and glance up and down the corridor hoping to see her. I make my way to the nurses’ station where a nurse is busy dispensing medication.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for Maggie Franklin. Do you know where she is? I’m her daughter.”
“Nice to meet you,” says the nurse, who looks about 60. “She’s on a break in the cafeteria.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say, turning to go.
The nurse holds out her arm and calls after me, “Wait a minute!”
She looks uncertain and seems unsure how to deal with me, which confuses me.
“Uh, I’m not sure if now’s a good time,” she says tentatively.
Now I’m really confused, and I look at her doubtfully.
But she dismisses it with a wave and says, “Oh, you’re old enough, and it’s not as if it’s something to hide.”
“Okay,” is all I can think to say, and I walk away. I’m still wondering why the woman was behaving so strangely when I reach the cafeteria and open the door. I can’t help smiling. Okay,now I get it. Mom is sitting at a table, her left hand around her coffee cup and her right hand in the middle of the table, half-way to the person opposite her. The nurse must have known who Mom was meeting here and was unsure if Mom wanted me to know about it. But why would I have a problem with this? I’m glad she and Charles get along so well.
I approach them with a smile and say, “Hey Mom, hello Charles. Nice to see you both.”
They turn to look at me, and both smile happily. My mother stands up and hugs me.
“This is a surprise. Thanks for coming by. How are you?”
I nod. “All good. I figured I’d call in and see you.”
“I’m glad.” She looks at Charles and says, “Charles just stopped by and brought cream donuts with sugar frosting, my favorite. Wasn’t that thoughtful?”
“Yeah, nice.”
Charles stands up too and shakes my hand. “Nice to see you, Teresa. Have a donut. I bought way too many.”
I happily accept and sit down at the table. The donut is delicious, and I can see why Mom is pleased by this thoughtful gesture. They smile at each other across the table. I’m glad they’re meeting like this. Charles is funny, open, charming, and seems to be a good guy, and my Mom clearly likes him a lot. I wonder if they’ll become a couple. I can’t be sure, but I suspect something is developing between them. And I wouldn’t have anything against it. I’d never object to Mom’s choice of partner as long as she’s happy. But I guess it could get complicated since Charles is a hunter for the Tempes. He’ll have to keep secrets and lie to her. Can a relationship like that work in the long term? And doesn’t my mom deserve someone she can completely trust and who’s open and honest with her? I think of my own secrets. How many people have I had to lie to so far? It’s a heavy burden that hurts relationships. I think of Ayden and everything that’shappened between us.
But thankfully, Charles draws me out of my introspection.
“It was nice meeting you and your friend at the charity dinner. I’m guessing you had fun. It was your first time at an event like that, right? Must have been eye-opening for you.”
I know he’s referring to the Council members, Mr. Cunningham, Vicky’s parents, and the school principal.
“It was definitely an experience,” I say evasively.
