Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Back home, Taylor sat on the sofa, legs folded under her and the note in her hand. The three candles on the hearth added to the cozy autumn ambiance, along with the cotton throw in a leaf pattern she’d tossed over her lap.
The burning candles filled the air with the scents of pumpkin spice, cinnamon, and caramel. If her dad were here now, they’d be drinking hot apple cider and gorging on pumpkin cookies with cream cheese icing from Cozy Crumb Bakery.
Her gaze dropped to the note.
I love you
Taylor blinked rapidly as the words blurred. There had never been a time when she hadn’t felt her dad’s love and support. She still couldn’t believe he was gone.
A tightness filled Taylor’s throat, and she sensed tears were only a heartbeat away. Recalling Captain Strong’s suggestion, she searched her brain for a fun memory.
It came surprisingly quickly. She was eight, and things that would now make her roll her eyes had made her laugh uproariously. Her dad thought it would be funny to carve a pumpkin to look like it was vomiting pumpkin seeds .
Hearing Taylor’s shrieks of laughter, her mother had come outside. To Taylor’s surprise, Lynda had joined the action by adding pumpkin guts to the seeds to make the “vomit” more realistic.
Hilarity ensued when her dad launched a handful of leftover pumpkin guts at his wife.
He missed.
Lynda retaliated, hitting him square in the chest.
Taylor joined in the fun.
By the time it ended with guts strewn from one end of the yard to the other, they were all laughing.
Even now, Taylor couldn’t keep from smiling.
Captain Strong had been right. The happy thoughts had chased away the tightness in her throat.
Taylor reveled in the memory for a few more seconds before her gaze dropped to the note in her lap.
What if the note wasn’t meant for her? What if it was meant for someone else?
The thought had her happy mood plummeting.
Could the note have been meant for the woman who’d brought the coat into the Nifty Thrifty? Could her father have been in love with the woman or having an affair with her?
Perhaps he’d left the coat at the woman’s house, and once she’d learned he had passed, she’d wanted the jacket gone. Maybe she hadn’t searched the pockets before adding the coat to her husband’s items and taking it to the thrift store.
Taylor knew better than to draw conclusions without more information. Which was why it was time to track down the woman who’d donated it.
After considering various information-gathering options that evening, Taylor devised one that seemed foolproof .
Still, her heart pounded out an erratic rhythm when she strolled into Nifty Thrifty the following morning. She’d given great thought to her appearance, believing that if she went dressed too casually, she might not be taken as seriously.
Then again, she didn’t want to walk into a thrift store dressed for a Fortune 500 boardroom.
She’d gone for the middle ground.
A Kelly green sweater dress with brown-heeled boots had gotten the nod. Instead of stuffing the coat into a bag or draping it over her arm when she left the house, she’d slipped it on.
The temperature outside had dipped, and the wool blend kept the wind’s chilly fingers at bay. But the comfort went beyond warmth—simply wearing the coat gave her a feeling of strength and contentment.
Taylor’s heels sounded against the hardwood as she made her way to the register. She stood back while a young woman with a child in a stroller completed her purchase.
As she waited, Taylor noticed today's air held the pleasant scent of warm vanilla sugar instead of the spicy aroma she’d smelled when she’d been here with Polly. She wasn’t sure which she preferred.
“Please come again,” the striking redhead behind the counter told the young mother.
The redhead was dressed simply in pants and a gold cable-knit sweater, and Taylor found herself thinking this woman, who looked to be in her early sixties, would be at home in any upscale boutique.
The clerk who’d sold Taylor the coat and told her about Eileen was nowhere in sight.
“Good morning.” The clerk’s gaze turned curious when she noticed no merchandise in Taylor’s hands. “May I help you find something?”
Suddenly recalling that the other woman had mentioned the manager had been there when the coat was brought in, Taylor pivoted. “I was wondering if I could speak with the manager?”
“I’m Lorna Stockham, the manager.” She offered a friendly smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I was in here the other day and purchased the coat I’m wearing.” Taylor made a sweeping gesture with one hand, like a model on a game show.
“It’s a wonderful color for you,” Lorna commented. “Very vintage chic.”
“I love it.” Taylor kept her tone casual. She decided not to mention the note or her belief that the coat had belonged to her dad. “I noticed a slight tear in the lining, and when I went to stitch it up, I found a fifty-dollar bill that someone had sewn into the lining.” Reaching into her pocket, Taylor pulled out the rumpled bill she’d picked up at the bank on her way to the thrift store. “I want to return the money to the person who previously owned the jacket.”
Surprise flickered in Lorna’s eyes. “If anyone sewed it into the lining, it must have been Eileen Harrington. I honestly can’t imagine why she’d do something like that or, if she did, that she would forget to retrieve it before she brought in the coat.”
“I don’t know about that.” Taylor’s pulse fluttered, and her mouth went dry. She decided then and there that she could never work for the CIA. Lying didn’t come easy, and she wasn’t good at it. “I only know that I’d like to return the money to her personally.”
Lorna held out her hand. “You don’t need to go to all that trouble. I’m more than happy to contact her and either keep it here for her to pick up, or I can drop it off at her house on my way home.”
Keeping a smile on her face, Taylor slipped the bill back into her purse. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d like to do this myself.”
As she hadn’t come up with a plausible reason why she would want to do this herself, she stopped short of explaining further .
Lorna expelled a breath, and her gaze grew troubled. “We normally don’t give out names and contact information.”
“I only want to give her back the money.” Taylor smiled. “You understand.”
The doubtful look in the woman’s hazel eyes said she didn’t understand.
Taylor held her breath and kept the smile on her lips. If Lorna didn’t come through, she could do a property search to find Eileen’s location. But this would be so much easier.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” Lorna said finally. “Just this once.”
Resisting the urge to cheer, Taylor watched as Lorna turned to her computer and pulled up Eileen’s address and phone number.
Taylor’s hand didn’t even tremble when she reached for the contact information Lorna printed off. Perhaps she would make a better spy than she’d thought.
“Thank you." Taylor forced herself to linger when all she wanted was to bolt. “You have a lovely store.”
Lorna smiled and glanced around. “We’ve been at this location for three years, and business continues to grow.”
“Well,” Taylor brushed the jacket with the back of her fingers, “I’m really happy with my purchase. Especially on blustery days like today.”
“It’s supposed to warm up this afternoon.”
“Let’s hope so.” Grateful for the customer approaching the register, Taylor wiggled her fingers at Lorna. “Have a great day…and thanks.”
As she left the store with the fifty-dollar bill she would give to Eileen—a small price to pay for the information she would obtain—Taylor felt herself steady.
Could Eileen Harrington and her father have been having an affair? Could the note in the coat have been meant for Eileen?
It was time to find out.
Eileen Harrington lived in a three-bedroom brick ranch on the north side of GraceTown. The homes in this area were well maintained, and the pride of ownership showed.
Taylor could imagine that on this block, the neighbors all knew one another’s names and not only spoke over backyard fences but socialized together. If so, any rendezvous between Eileen and her father would have occurred elsewhere.
Just the thought of her father being involved with a married woman made Taylor feel a little sick. She’d always viewed her dad as having a strict moral code. He’d treated others how he wanted to be treated, had been kind and compassionate and had respected the institution of marriage.
Even when his wife had been gone for long stretches of time, he’d never strayed.
She tried to imagine him and this woman setting up out-of-the-way places to meet. Or maybe he’d brought her to his house. Unless someone knew Eileen Harrington, his neighbors likely wouldn’t have thought anything of him coming home with a woman.
In fact, she recalled several times hearing about neighbors trying to set him up after her parents had divorced. Her dad hadn’t taken them up on their matchmaking offers, insisting he was too busy raising his daughter and working.
Still, it had to have been lonely for him. He’d been in his forties when his marriage ended. Though Taylor had never given much thought to her father’s love life, she hoped he’d made time for fun in the years since her mother had left.
Just not fun with a married woman…
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Taylor stepped from the car. With the coat buttoned all the way up to stave off the brisk wind, Taylor strode up the walkway to the front door.
Thankfully, the side of the garage blocked the wind from the north. Though she was tempted to fidget, she spotted the Ring doorbell and knew it recorded her every move.
Plastering a smile on her face, Taylor pushed the doorbell. Chimes echoed throughout the house. There was no car in the driveway, but that didn’t mean anything. The garage was attached, and any vehicle was likely nestled inside.
She counted to thirty. When no one answered, she rang the bell again.
“Just a minute,” a woman called.
Taylor’s heart gave a solid thump against her rib cage. She forced herself to breathe as the door eased open.
A plump, gray-haired woman edging toward eighty opened the door. “May I help you?”
“I’m looking for, ah, Eileen Harrington.” Could this be Eileen’s mother?
“I’m Eileen. How may I help you?”
Stunned, Taylor blinked. For a second, the words just wouldn’t come. Then she reminded herself this was a positive development. Discovering that the Eileen in question was old enough to be her dad’s mother ended any speculation that her father had had an affair with the woman.
“I’m Taylor Higgs.” Taylor gestured toward the houndstooth tweed she wore. “I purchased this coat at the Nifty Thrifty. Lorna told me you were the one who brought it in. She mentioned it had belonged to your husband?”
“Yes, that’s right. Please, come in.” Eileen stepped aside. “The temperature has really dropped in the last hour, and we’re letting all the cold air in.”
When Taylor stepped inside, she was instantly hit by the strong smell of disinfectant.
“We need to keep our voices down. My husband isn’t well, and he’s finally sleeping.” Eileen closed the door behind Taylor. “I don’t want our talking to wake him.”
When they entered the living room, Eileen motioned for Taylor to take a seat on the sofa. Though the house was tidy, signs of illness were everywhere.
A walker stood waiting on the other side of the room, while a side table held several prescription bottles as well as a box of dressings and antiseptic wipes. Disposable blue bed pads were neatly stacked at the far end of the sofa.
“First, let me say that I’m sorry.”
Puzzlement filled Eileen’s eyes.
“That your husband is ill,” Taylor explained. “I lost my father recently.”
“Thank you.” Eileen’s expression turned bleak. “Someone from Caring Hands Hospice is stopping by today to check on him. When I heard the doorbell ring, I thought you might be the nurse.”
Taylor felt terrible for interrupting what had to be a difficult day for the woman. The good thing was she didn’t plan on staying long.
“I’ll make this quick.” Taylor silently apologized for thinking her father might have been having an affair. “Was Lorna correct? This was your husband’s coat?”
“Yes, that belonged to my Arnold.” Eileen folded her hands in her lap. “What is this about?”
What this was about, Taylor wanted to say, was her doubting her dad’s character. “I came because of the coat.”
“If you don’t like it, I’m sure Lorna will take it back?—”
“It isn’t that.” Taylor decided the visit had already been worth the fifty dollars. There was no need to prolong it other than to protect the story she’d told Lorna. “I noticed the inside lining was coming loose, and when I went to stitch it, I found this inside.” Reaching into her pocket, Taylor pulled out the fifty. “I wanted to return it to you.”
Eileen’s hand rose to her throat. “You found money inside the coat?”
“I did. ”
“Who would have put it there?” Eileen’s brows pulled together in confusion. “Arnold purchased the coat new, and I’m the one who sews. I certainly didn’t stash money in the lining.”
“Maybe it’s just one of those GraceTown things,” Taylor suggested.
When Eileen only continued to stare, Taylor gave an embarrassed laugh. “You know…unexplainable.”
Eileen’s lips curved ever so slightly. “I never believed any of those tall tales. Though if an angel did swoop down and offer to cure Arnold, I wouldn’t say no.”
The older woman ignored Taylor’s outstretched hand with the dangling fifty-dollar bill. “I won’t take it. You might as well put it back in your purse.”
“It’s not mine,” Taylor insisted, doubling down on the story. “I found it in the coat.”
“I don’t know about any of that,” Eileen said, lifting a hand. “All I know is I won’t accept something that doesn’t belong to me.”
“Please take it. I feel bad about stopping by and infringing on your time.”
“It’s not mine,” Eileen reiterated.
“But—”
“Honey, you found it. It was meant to be yours.”
“There was also a note in one of the pockets.” Taylor pulled out the paper and held it out for Eileen to read.
Eileen peered at the note, then lifted her gaze to Taylor. “I don’t have my cheaters nearby. What does it say?”
“‘I love you. Don’t sell.’”
“I’m sorry, Miss Higgs.” Eileen shook her head. “I don’t know anything about the money or the note.”
“Eileen.” A man’s voice, shaky and frail, called to her from down the hall.
“Be right there, honey.” Eileen rose. “If there isn’t anything else?— ”
“I’ll see myself out. Thank you for your time.”
“Eileen.” He said just her name again, this time followed by a bout of coughing.
The sorrow on Eileen’s face and in her eyes tugged at Taylor’s heartstrings as she reached the front door and let herself out.
If the tall tales were real…
An angel would heal Arnold, and Taylor’s dad would be able to reach out to her from beyond the grave.
Taylor knew she should have felt jazzed that she’d confirmed her father and Eileen hadn’t been involved. But as she opened the front door of her dad’s house, disappointment hung heavy around Taylor’s shoulders.
Instead of moving forward, she’d left the Harrington home with more questions than answers. Worse, she didn’t know where to go next.
Gather information , Jameson had said.
Stellar advice if you knew where to look. Taylor had believed the coat was her father’s, but it now appeared that the one she’d bought at Nifty Thrifty had, in fact, belonged to Arnold Harrington.
With no idea of where her father’s coat was or how to start looking, she was truly stuck.
Taylor considered and discarded possibilities and next steps as she strolled into the kitchen for something cold to drink. Her hand was on the refrigerator door when her gaze was drawn to the photograph Chloe had given her at the Thirsty Pug on Saturday. When she’d arrived home that night, she’d secured the picture to the fridge door with a magnet.
Taylor lifted the picture from the door. Seeing her father so happy made her smile.
It was a miracle this picture had been printed rather than languishing on someone’s phone. Taylor’s gaze lingered on the coat, on the lapel and buttons, on the houndstooth tweed.
When her dad had visited her in Chicago for Christmas last year, the jacket had come with him. Despite being over twenty years old, it had been in perfect condition—well, except for a barely perceptible red paint stain on the right cuff.
Until just now, she’d forgotten all about it.
Taylor had been thirteen when her dad had returned home one day, fuming. He’d been off-duty when he’d seen some teenagers painting graffiti on the side of a building.
He’d intervened and gotten paint on his coat while apprehending them. Thankfully, the dry cleaner had been able to remove all but one tiny spot.
Taylor stilled. Did the jacket hanging by the front door have a red spot? With the photograph clutched in one hand, Taylor covered the distance to the coat in several long strides.
Her heart pounded an erratic rhythm as she reached the jacket, lifting the right cuff and turning it for a better view.
Inhaling sharply, Taylor stared at the small area of red paint.
This was her father’s coat, not Mr. Harrington’s.
Could Nifty Thrifty have had two of the same coats? Possible, but not likely.
It didn’t matter, Taylor decided. How this jacket had ended up in the thrift store was inconsequential. What mattered was this was her dad’s coat.
Which meant that he had written the note in the pocket. Right?
A chill washed over her. Needing the warmth, she shrugged on the coat before returning to the kitchen.
Determined to dot all i’s and cross all t’s, Taylor took the note from her purse and carefully placed it on the table. After retrieving her dad’s last grocery list and the paper from his bedside stand containing scribbled case notes, she laid the three pieces of paper side by side on the table, wondering why she hadn’t done this before.
You were too focused on the coat .
Even though her thoughts still kept wanting to return to the jacket and its appearance in her life, Taylor forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.
Observing the overall appearance of the handwriting told her that the slant, spacing and alignment of the letters and words were similar. But it was the way her father wrote the letter S in a wavy line that told her the man who had written the kitchen list and surveillance notes was the same one who’d written the note in the coat pocket.
Taylor slumped against the back of her chair. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind now that the coat was her father’s and that he had written the note in the pocket.
But she didn’t know who he’d written the note to, and she didn’t know how to find out.
Her phone dinged. Picking it up, Taylor glanced at the screen.
Hi, honey. How are you doing? Are you still in GraceTown, or have you returned to Chicago? Is there any word on the memorial service? If you need anything, anything at all, please know I’m here for you.
Taylor didn’t want to deal with her mother right now. Or ever.
She didn’t need the hassle. If Lynda couldn’t take the hint—which it appeared she couldn’t—Taylor would have to be blunt.
Unable to sit, Taylor pushed to her feet, already mentally composing the text that would hopefully end these daily contacts for good. Shoving her hands into the coat’s pockets, she began to pace.
She stopped abruptly when her fingers brushed against a scrap of paper in one pocket.
Pulling it out, Taylor read, Be kind.
For a second, her heart simply stopped, and then it began to race. The first note… Well, it could be explained away. But this one…
Taylor forced herself to breathe. She’d been thinking of her mother. Then this note, which hadn’t been in the coat’s pocket only moments before, had magically appeared.
There was only one explanation. It had been sent from her dad to her.
Though Taylor had never believed in magic, she believed in it now.