Chapter 10
“I CAN HELP YOU WITH those,” Anita offered to Phyllis when she saw her lugging in grocery bags.
She had been trimming a few plants in the front flower bed, Sassy following her about the yard, when Phyllis pulled up. Carly was in the house doing homework, or else Anita might have brought her along to help too.
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Phyllis sing-songed. She looked as immaculate as ever. Lipstick in place, hair colored and coiffed, matching outfit of baby blue.
Anita turned off the garden hose and walked across the lawn to Phyllis’s driveway. The air smelled fresh from the light morning rain and the dewy rose bushes that lined the front of her neighbor’s house. Anita grabbed a couple of the bags from her trunk. Apparently the grapefruit diet was now over? Because although the bags were heavy, they looked like regular groceries.
Walking into Phyllis’s house, she was struck anew at the tidiness of the place, though she’d been inside before, of course. She supposed that with only one person at home and not having art projects always in the works, housekeeping was simpler.
“Just set the bags on the counter,” Phyllis instructed. “I’ll unpack everything. Thanks.”
Her tone was bright as usual, but something nagged Anita in the back of her mind. Phyllis’s smile was too wide, her voice too peppy, her insistence that Anita leave right away unusual. Any other time she had helped with a similar task, Phyllis had invited her to sit and chat. Have a drink or a treat.
“Is everything all right?” Anita hovered next to the counter.
“Of course,” Phyllis said immediately. “I don’t want to keep you waiting any longer since I know how busy you are.”
Normally, she would take the out. But still she lingered. “I haven’t seen your son around much lately. Are he and his wife doing well?”
This question brought a flush to Phyllis’s cheeks, and Anita swore she saw a sheen of unshed tears.
Phyllis waved a hand. “Oh, they’re all extremely busy right now. I haven’t seen them in a few weeks, but I’m hoping when summer starts, they’ll want to visit Grandma’s house.”
“Of course they will,” Anita soothed. “If you aren’t busy tomorrow, maybe we could share a quick lunch together? I need to force myself to take breaks, and that will be a good excuse.”
“That would be wonderful,” Phyllis said. “How about I fix something, so you don’t have to worry about it. I have a house full of groceries now.”
“I didn’t mean to invite myself—” Anita started.
“Don’t be silly.” Phyllis waved a manicured hand. “If I were a better neighbor, I’d have invited you in the first place.”
“You’re a great neighbor,” Anita said, and realized she absolutely meant it.
A short time later, as she headed back to her house, she decided that the weekend had been better than she could have ever expected—besides her car issues, that was. But then again that had been a catalyst for what was happening in a short time. Wyatt should be arriving soon to pick them up.
When she entered the house, Carly was standing at the front window. “I was just helping Phyllis with her groceries,” Anita said.
Carly nodded. “I’m watching for Wyatt and the red Cadillac.”
“Wow, excited?”
“As excited as you.”
Anita laughed. She didn’t mind Carly’s teasing about Wyatt. It was good to be teasing each other and not have the tension of the suspension and grounding hanging over them. Maybe they’d get back to doing their weekend road trips, something they used to enjoy together. Today, she had been worried most of the time, wondering how Carly’s school experience would go. But she came home with a smile on her face, saying she’d talked to some other girls in her classes. Maybe Samantha and Evie would be history—and that would be a good thing.
“All right, you keep watch.” Anita headed out of the living room.
“He’s here!” Carly called out suddenly.
She stopped. “Okay, I need to grab my purse.”
“I’ll see you outside.”
Anita grabbed her purse, then followed Carly, locking the door behind them. When she turned, Wyatt was out of the car, wearing what he must have at work. Button-down shirt, tie, and slacks.
“Ready?” he asked, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
“Ready,” Carly announced brightly. She hurried to the car, splashing through a small puddle, then stopped as Wyatt opened the rear door for her.
Anita kept her stride at a normal pace, not wanting to seem too eager, even though she was probably just as keyed up.
Wyatt remained by the car, watching her approach.
Something was different about him, Anita decided. His green eyes seemed lighter in the afternoon sun, and he seemed to be more relaxed. Had it been a good workday for him?
“How are you?” he asked as she neared.
Something about his mellow voice warmed her chest. It was as if he were truly interested in her answer.
“It was a good day,” she said, “once I found out Carly had a good day at school.”
He paused with his hand on the door handle. “Is she making new friends?”
“She is.”
He smiled. “Good to hear.” He popped open the door, and she stepped past him and slid into the front passenger seat.
He smelled of fresh air and the warm sun and maybe starch. Did he starch his shirts, or was that from the dry cleaner’s? She decided not to dwell on the fact that she’d spritzed a little perfume when she was getting ready.
After he climbed in and started the engine, Carly said, “This car looks shinier today than it did on Saturday. Did you wash it again?”
“No, but the sunlight brings out the true color,” Wyatt said, glancing back at her. “Did you have a good day at school?”
“Pretty good,” Carly said. For the next several moments, she rattled off a few conversations she’d had. “Mr. Davis will be happy that I took his advice.”
“What advice was that?” Anita asked. Why didn’t she know about this?
“He told me to talk to three people I hadn’t before,” Carly said. “He gave me some questions to ask, and well, it worked. I have new friends.”
“What questions?” Wyatt asked.
That was what Anita wanted to know too.
“If they grew up here,” Carly said. “Ask about the teachers they like, and then ask if they’re into music and what kind.” She paused. “Mr. Davis said to always have topics for conversation, even if you have to write them down and memorize them. He said people like to talk about themselves, and all you have to do is ask the questions.”
Anita smiled. “That’s pretty smart of him.”
“I didn’t realize Gramps had a method that he used,” Wyatt said. “It makes sense, though. Whenever I’ve gone anywhere with him, he strikes up conversations with people. He doesn’t care who the person is, he just talks to them, and pretty soon, they find things they have in common.”
“It’s a gift,” Anita said. “I don’t think I could do it.”
Carly cut in. “Mr. Davis said it takes practice. And preparing your questions. You should try it, Mom.”
“Okay . . . Do I need that sort of help?”
“Yes,” Carly said immediately. “I mean, you’re not friends with the moms of my friends. And they all do stuff together.”
She bit her lip. Was Carly talking about her old friends, or her new friends—whom she didn’t even know yet. And she couldn’t do lunch dates or tennis matches with the other women because she had to work and support—
“I think Gramps had great advice,” Wyatt said. “We should all try it.”
“On each other?” Carly asked.
“Sure,” he said. “I can start.”
Everyone went silent, waiting for his question.
“So, Carly, how was school today?”
“Nooo...” she said. “It has to be something that doesn’t have a one-word answer.”
Wyatt chuckled. “Okay, okay. Carly, what do you hope we find at the library?”
“Oh, that’s a good one.” She leaned forward in her seat. “I hope we find out who Susan really was and more about what high school was like when Mr. Davis went. I think it will be fun to tell him what we learned.” She tapped Anita’s shoulder. “Your turn, Mom.”
Anita cleared her throat. “All right. I’ll ask Wyatt a question.” He glanced over at her, a half-smile on his face. “What was your favorite part about work today and what was your least favorite?”
He tugged at his collar. “Are you sure this isn’t a job interview?”
She smiled, and Carly giggled.
“Uh, today the best part was finishing a report that’s taken three days to compile,” he said. “The least favorite part was getting a flat tire on the way to work.”
“Oh no, this car?”
“Yeah. This is my second shirt of the day and second pair of pants. What I originally wore is at the cleaner’s, and I can only hope they’ll get the road oil out of it.”
“Road oil? What’s that?” Carly asked.
Wyatt’s expression went grim. “It’s when you pull over to change a tire, not realizing you’ve stopped a few feet from a large puddle of rainwater, and the oncoming car doesn’t slow down at all.”
“Oh wow!” she squealed. “You got drenched?”
“I got drenched,” he confirmed.
Anita couldn’t help it, she had to laugh. Carly was already laughing, and within seconds, Wyatt’s expression relaxed, and he laughed too.
“All right,” he said, pulling onto the main road leading to the library, “it wasn’t funny at the time, but I can see how it’s funny later.”
When they all sobered, Carly said, “It’s my turn. And I’m asking you a question, Mr. Davis.”
“Wyatt.”
“Okay, Wyatt.” She paused. “Have you lived here all your life and how old are you?”
“Carly,” Anita said, “it’s not polite to—”
“It’s all right, Anita,” he said, amusement in his tone as he patted her hand.
She froze at his touch, not knowing if she should react or ignore it. He removed his hand just as quickly as he’d touched her, so she released a slow breath. It wasn’t like she had tingles running up her arm from his touch or there was some sort of electricity sparking between them like she’d read in a few books. This was different, though...she was aware of him. Of how one hand gripped the steering wheel, how the other worked the gear shift when needed, how he smelled of fresh air and starch, how he had a five o’clock shadow on his jaw, how—
“I’m forty-one, which I know makes me an old man, and I’ve lived in Seattle my whole life. In fact, I’ve only been to a couple of other states—Oregon and Nevada. So you could say that I’m a diehard Seattle-ite?”
So he was six years older than her, Anita calculated.
“My mom’s thirty-five,” Carly declared.
“Barely thirty-five.” She wanted off that topic as soon as possible. “Don’t you like to travel?”
Before he could answer, Carly cut in. “Road trips are the best! My mom and I do them all the time.”
Except for the last few months, that had been the case.
“Road trips...” Wyatt mused as he turned into the library parking lot. “All of my traveling has been for work meetings. Once it was for a funeral of a relative. Otherwise, my grandparents didn’t leave Seattle on account of my grandma’s poor health.”
Anita was fully curious now, with more questions. True to Carly’s nature, she beat her to it.
“What was wrong with your grandma?” she asked. “And why didn’t you just go somewhere with your parents?”
Wyatt pulled into a parking place and shifted the car into park.
“That’s a lot of personal questions, Carly,” Anita said.
He turned toward her. “It’s fine.” His green eyes were steady, not annoyed. “My grandma had a heart condition, so Gramps didn’t want to take her too far from home—or overnight somewhere. She had trouble sleeping when she wasn’t in her own bed.” He paused. “And my parents...well, my dad took off before I could even remember him, and my mom...She had an addiction that eventually took her life.”
Anita’s heart felt like it was being twisted out of her chest. “I’m so sorry, Wyatt,” she whispered.
Not even Carly had words.
“It was all a long time ago,” he said gently. “Gramps and Grammy raised me, so if I seem overbearing around Gramps, you’ll know why. He’s everything to me.”
Anita blinked against the stinging in her eyes. She wanted to hug this man, but it wasn’t the right place.
“That really sucks,” Carly said.
Anita normally would have reprimanded her for using such a coarse word, but right now, it was completely accurate.
“My dad left us too,” Carly continued. “My mom will try to correct me that he left her, but it was really us. I haven’t heard from him in years, and I know he doesn’t care enough about me to change that. So my mom is everything to me.”
The tears came then. How had she not known that Carly felt that way? About her dad? About her? About all of it? She wiped at her cheeks, then reached over the seat to grasp Carly’s hand. “You’re everything to me too, sweetheart.”
Wyatt didn’t interrupt their moment, and only when their tears had dried did he get out of the car and open both of their doors. Anita stepped out, thanked him, then pulled Carly into a tight squeeze. They walked into the library with Wyatt leading the way.
Surprisingly, it seemed busy. A senior group must have it as their activity night because there were at least a dozen elderly people milling about. One older man, leaning heavily on a black cane, was speaking to a librarian, much louder than the “Keep Quiet” sign indicated might be acceptable. The man’s white flyaway hair and deep wrinkles told her he had to be nearing ninety.
“I can’t pull out those little cards from the card catalog,” he was saying. “My fingers are too stiff.”
The librarian murmured something, and the man said, “Speak up, I can’t hear you.”
Anita smiled at the interaction.
“I don’t know where to start,” Wyatt said, looking about the space. “Is there a sign on one of the aisles that says ‘Old Yearbooks’?”
“Maybe over here?” Carly pointed to one labeled “Seattle History.”
“It’s as good of a place to start as any.” Wyatt flashed her a smile. Then he lowered his voice even more. “Maybe after the librarian is finished helping that gentleman, we can ask her for help if we don’t find anything.”
“You’ll be waiting a while,” a woman said, passing close to them.
Anita looked over to see an elderly woman with hair silver-white. She wore a pale yellow blouse with a jeweled brooch at the center of the collar. Everything about her bespoke elegance, from the way she angled her head, to her steady blue-green gaze, and the soft scent of roses about her.
The woman smiled conspiratorially. “Herb has been talking to the librarian since we arrived half an hour ago. He does this every trip.”
Anita smiled. “Oh that’s . . . interesting. And no one complains?”
The woman shrugged. “We’ve all learned to fend for ourselves in here. I’ve become a sort of expert, so if you need help, maybe I can guide you in the right direction?”
“That would be wonderful,” Wyatt said. “I’m Wyatt Davis, and these are my friends and research assistants, Anita and Carly.”
“Nice to meet you all,” the woman said. “I’m Maggie Howard. Are you local to the area?”
All of them nodded.
Maggie sighed. “I’ve lived here for decades, and I’ve been coming to the library just as long.”
“Do you check out books on tape?” Carly asked. “That’s what my mom does. She’s an artist, so she listens while she works.”
Maggie’s eyes seemed to lighten. “An artist? How wonderful. I’ve been collecting art most of my life. In fact, that’s why I’m here.”
“To collect art?” Carly asked, clearly confused like Anita was.
“No.” Maggie chuckled. “I’m looking for an artist. Orlando Gallo. Have you ever heard of him? Perhaps artists are all connected?”
The hope in the older woman’s voice was unmistakable.
“Orlando Gallo...” Anita repeated, sorting through any memories of an artist with that name. Nothing came to mind immediately. “His name isn’t familiar. Is he from Seattle?”
“No,” Maggie said, sounding dejected. “He’s from San Francisco. I knew him many years ago.” Her gaze sharpened. “Now. What are you on the hunt for today? I’m sure your adventure is much more interesting than mine.”
Before she or Wyatt could answer, Carly spilled out all the information. Starting with her suspension in school, then her service hours at the assisted living home, meeting Mr. Davis, and his high school sweetheart Susan. “We don’t know if she’s real, though,” she said, her voice nearly breathless with talking so fast.
Maggie Howard didn’t seem to have any trouble following, though. Her eyes had widened as if she was hanging on every word.
“So we’re going to find old yearbooks.” Carly glanced at Wyatt. “From 1918 or 1919.”
“From 1919.” He smiled at Maggie. “Maybe you can point us in the right direction?”
She set a hand on her hip, a couple of stunning rings on her hand catching the light. “I think you were heading in the right direction. There’s also a section on education a couple of aisles down from Seattle History. I can help you look too.”
“Oh, we don’t expect that,” Anita hurried to say.
Maggie gave an exaggerated look to where Herb was still talking to the librarian. “I don’t mind. I could use the distraction anyway. I’ve become discouraged in my search, and I think the only recourse is to take a trip to San Francisco myself.”
“You’d go that far just to track down an artist?”
Maggie’s smile was soft. “He used to be a friend, although we didn’t know each other for too long. We lost touch, and well...I’d like to find him.”
“Just like Mr. Davis wanting to find Susan,” Carly said.
“Gramps hasn’t said anything like that,” Wyatt cut in, his tone firm. “We’re just finding out information on our end.”
Anita set a hand on Carly’s shoulder. “Right. We don’t want to encourage anything extra with Wyatt’s grandfather.”
“All right,” she said dejectedly. Then she seemed to shrug it off. “I can’t wait to see what the old yearbooks look like. The hairstyles are going to be amazing.”
“Right you are, young lady,” Maggie said with a chuckle.
As they walked over to the Seattle History section, Wyatt and Carly strode ahead.
Maggie fell into step with Anita. “You have a great girl, there. Now, I noticed neither you nor the gentleman you arrived with are wearing wedding rings. Is Wyatt your special someone?”
“Oh no,” she said. “We’ve only recently met, and since Carly and I became friends with his grandfather, it sort of extended to Wyatt too. There’s nothing, uh, between us.”
Maggie smiled. “Friendships are very important in life. I should know. I’ve had over ninety years of experience. And Wyatt seems like a good man. I have a sense for these things.”
Warmth prickled along Anita’s arms. “You’re in your nineties?”
“Ninety-four,” she said with pride. “When you’re my age, you wear it like a badge of honor.”
“Mom!” Carly whispered-yelled. “We found the yearbooks.”
Anita and Maggie shared an eager expression, then joined the others in the aisle. Carly was right. An entire section was taken up with yearbooks. Wyatt had crouched down, exploring the titles on the bottom row.
“The oldest one here is from 1952,” he said, then straightened. “Maybe they have older ones on microfilm?”
“Let’s ask the librarian,” Maggie said. “I’ll drag her away from Herb if I have to.”
Wyatt’s face twisted with amusement. “Do you need help?”
Her eyes twinkled. “I’ve got this.” She moved out of the aisle, and Anita and the others followed. They stopped a few paces from where Herb was still talking to the librarian.
“Herb, I think Gerald could use your help,” Maggie said. “He’s been standing in front of the mystery novels for twenty minutes. Don’t you know all of the detective series?”
Herb turned his eyes on Maggie, his hand gripping his cane. “I sure do. Where is Gerald?”
“Just over there.” She pointed.
After Herb shuffled off, Maggie turned to the librarian, who frankly looked relieved. “Mrs. Proctor, we need some assistance,” she said. “Is the microfilm room available?”
Mrs. Proctor tucked a stray bit of auburn hair behind her ear. “Of course, come this way. What are you looking for?”
Wyatt explained about the yearbooks, and she gave a brisk nod. “Just give me a few minutes, and I should be able to locate those couple of years.”
They crowded into the microfilm room, and everyone took a chair. When the librarian returned, she carried a film canister. “This one has five years’ worth, so you should be able to find what you’re looking for—if it’s here.” She loaded the machine and showed everyone how to advance the images to search through the yearbook pages.
Wyatt sat in the middle chair and began to scroll through. They first found Samuel Davis listed in the index, and Carly wrote down all the page numbers to check. Finding Susan’s name was harder because they didn’t know her last name. There were several Susans, and who knew if there would be pictures with both Mr. Davis and Susan together anyway?
“The index might not have every mention of a person,” Maggie mused. “There could be group shots of things like socials and dances.”
Wyatt turned to look at her. “I remember one of his stories was about the Spring Fling.”
Carly clapped her hands. “That’s probably it. Hopefully there are pictures.”
He continued to scroll. A page appeared with group pictures. The larger the group, the harder it was to make out faces. Some of them had identifying names at the bottom. Others didn’t. When they landed on a couple of pictures from the Spring Fling, Wyatt examined them, trying to look for a young man who looked like his grandfather.
“There,” he pointed. “I think that’s him.”
Everyone leaned closer.
Sam Davis as a young man had slicked-back hair, wore a blazer and tie, and he had his arm around a girl with short bobbed hair and a wide smile. He wasn’t looking at the camera though. He was looking at his date as if the sun rose and set with her.
“Is that Susan?” Carly asked. “It has to be her.”
Anita’s heart stuttered. If this was Susan at Sam’s side, then she was definitely real. What was Wyatt feeling right now?
He blew out a breath. “Let’s see if we can match her up with pictures of the other Susans.” He used the machine to print off a copy of the page with the Spring Fling photo. A few moments later, Wyatt had Carly hold it up as he scrolled to the page numbers that correlated with the girls named Susan.
“That looks like her,” Carly said when he arrived at a page with a photo captioned “Glee Club.”
Wyatt held the printed page close to the microfiche screen. There was no doubt it was a match.
“Susan Martin,” he said. “It looks like she was a real person.”
No one spoke for a couple of moments, then Carly said, “What’s a glee club?”
Maggie had the answer. “A choir run by the students. It was an extracurricular club, so it was volunteer and not part of classes.”
Wyatt selected the option to print off the glee club page. “We might as well find the other photos of her, as well as those of Gramps.”
As the printer rattled away, he stared for a long moment at the Spring Fling image, while Carly asked Maggie more questions.
Anita touched his arm. “Are you all right?”
He snapped his gaze up as if being pulled out of a fog. “Yeah...it’s just surreal, I guess. Gramps isn’t making things up. It’s complicated too. I mean, I thought my grandmother was the love of his life.”
“Maybe she was,” Anita said. “Most of us have relationships before settling on our true love.” Her face felt hot. “Or...sometimes the first love doesn’t work out.”
Wyatt gazed at her for a moment. “Yeah, you’re right. Just because Gramps cared about Susan doesn’t mean he didn’t love my grandma.”
By the time the pages had finished printing, Maggie’s group was ready to be transported back to the senior center, where they’d share a meal together. “It was wonderful meeting all of you,” she said. “I hope to see you again sometime.”
Anita rose to walk her out of the room. “How often do you come here?”
“The excursion is every Monday, but I come maybe once or twice a month.” Maggie grasped her hand. “Lovely to meet you and your daughter. Wyatt is a nice man too.”
“Wonderful to meet you as well.”
Maggie smiled and patted Anita’s arm, then she moved away, joining the senior group.
She had a strange feeling as Maggie walked away as if she’d just said goodbye to an old friend. But that was impossible—they’d only met an hour ago.