Chapter 14 Sam
SAM
Charlie showed up back at the room before Sam had a chance to go look for her, but she was distant and uncommunicative as they got ready for bed.
She took the bed, while Sam slept on the cot.
He didn’t see any reason to have Housekeeping change the sheets—Maggie had only been there one night—but this meant he was sharply aware of Maggie’s smells, the scent of her floral shampoo, the lingering impression of her soft skin that had impressed itself where he was now lying . ..
Sleeping in the generator shed would have been easier.
From the bed came a soft grunt and the sound of Charlie turning over. He could see the glow of her phone screen, so she wasn’t asleep.
“Charlie, honey? You awake?”
“Mmmm,” was the only reply, but it didn’t sound sleepy.
“Looking forward to Christmas, punkin? Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, you know.”
Charlie huffed a very teenager-ish sigh. “I’m not five, Dad.”
Sam rolled over and propped his head on his arm. He was acutely tuned in to Charlie’s moods most of the time, or at least he tried to be. This one was unmistakable. “Charlotte, are you upset?”
“Whatever, Dad.”
“That kind of sounds like a yes.”
Charlie draped herself over the edge of the bed. The cot was lower, so she was looking down at him in the dim room. “You’re a grownup. You can have ... things with other grownups if you want to. So. It’s all fine.”
“Okay, so you’re mad about Maggie.”
“Ugh!” Charlie flopped back; he could no longer see her. “I just said it was fine!”
“You said it was fine in the voice that means it’s definitely not fine.”
Sam sat up. The room was lit by a nightlight in the bathroom, the glow of Charlie’s phone screen, and the soft illumination of Christmas lights outside, filtered through the curtains.
It was a gentle sort of light, pleasant for sleeping, but it gave him little idea what Charlie’s face was currently showing.
Especially when she rolled over and turned her back to him.
“Hey.” Sam climbed out of bed and sat on the edge of hers, sinking into the fluffy covers. “You know, this bed is a lot more comfortable than my bed. I might just join you here.”
“Go away, Dad,” Charlie said, muffled.
Sam ruffled her hair. “Sweetheart, this isn’t going to stop happening by not talking about it. I know I haven’t dated much since we lost Mom. This has to be hard for you. But ...” He stopped. “Charlie, are you crying?”
Charlie made a tiny sniffling sound.
“Oh, baby.” Sam gathered her into his arms. She came willingly, a fluffy pajama-clad bundle of gawky teenage limbs, and clung to him like a much younger child.
“Are you that upset about me and Maggie? We’ll work it out.
We’ll find some way.” He hated the idea of giving up Maggie, and his shift animal reacted with horror.
But he couldn’t do something that was going to make his daughter miserable.
Charlie mumbled something in which he thought he could discern something like Mom’s necklace.
“What?”
She pulled back a little. “The necklace, Dad. I can’t find the necklace.”
“What?” Sam repeated. “Where—have you searched the room?”
“Yes!” Charlie said. She looked down, not meeting his eyes. “I think maybe Maggie took it.”
“No.” The denial came from the bottom of his soul. “She wouldn’t do that.”
“She was right here in the room, Dad. She had plenty of opportunities when we weren’t here.”
“Are you sure it’s gone? Do you want to look for it with me?”
Charlie shook her head. “It’s gone.”
“Let’s look anyway.”
He got up and turned on the lights, and they tore the room apart, looking in drawers, under the bed, even in the sink drain.
The necklace was, or had been, the one truly valuable thing that Charlie possessed.
It was a heart-shaped pendant, set with real rubies and diamonds.
Rubies were the shared birthstone for both Charlie and her mom, whose birthdays had been a week apart.
After Charlie was born, Sam had saved up and bought Kim the necklace as a birthday present.
Then, after she died, it seemed a natural next step for it to pass to Charlie.
Of course, Charlie at the time had been much too young for valuable jewelry.
As she got older and more responsible, he let her wear it on special occasions, but kept an eye on her—and it.
Somehow it felt like the last thing that he and Charlie had left of her mom, other than Charlie herself.
Charlie had begged to wear it more often, but he’d refused; it wasn’t like he was going to let a seven-year-old wear a piece of expensive jewelry like it was a dollar store trinket.
When she turned ten, he had decided it was time for Charlie to have the necklace for good.
After that he let her wear it wherever she liked, with the caveat that she needed to be careful not to break or lose it.
And she rarely took it off. He had seen her remove it for swimming and for sports, and sometimes at night, although other times she slept with it tucked into her pajamas.
It was often down inside the collar of her sweater or whatever else she was wearing. It hadn’t even occurred to him to notice whether she had it on at dinner.
“Weren’t you wearing today?” he asked.
“No! It didn’t seem like a good idea, because there are so many places to lose it.” She had her back to him, digging through a drawer they both had already looked through. Ashamed? Or not quite telling him the whole truth? He couldn’t tell.
“When did you last have it on?”
“This morning,” Charlie said. “I didn’t want to take it with me skiing.” Her voice caught a little.
It was the kind of situation where she would be careful. But he still had the nagging feeling that she wasn’t telling him everything.
“And you said you put it in the bathroom?”
“Yes, Dad. It was right beside the sink.”
Well, it definitely wasn’t now. She was right. There was no sign of the necklace in the entire room. It could easily have blended with the red pillows on the bed, but they took the whole bed apart, unmaking it and looking inside pillowcases and under the mattress before remaking it.
“We’ll report it to the hotel,” Sam said. “Maybe it got, I don’t know, accidentally caught on a towel and dropped into a housekeeping cart. Maybe it snagged on your sleeve and fell out in the lobby, and someone’s already found it and turned it in.”
“Or maybe Maggie took it.”
“She didn’t take it, Charlie. I don’t want to hear you saying that, especially not to her. We’re going to find it.”
But inside his chest, for the first time, a tiny snake of doubt squirmed.