Chapter 35
BACK AT THE LAKE, THE HOUSE IS COLD, DRAFTY. I TURN UP THE thermostat, and even though it’s after midnight, I turn on every light. Larry and Ruth discussed the event all the way back in the car, so I didn’t have to say anything and could relax in the back seat, turn over Noah’s words in my head.
The next morning, I sit in the kitchen and work on my novel.
I’m trying to concentrate on what I can control.
I think I can finish my book in a couple of weeks if I keep at it.
I sit back, sip my coffee. I’m pulled in two different directions.
If I stay here, stay part of the Spencer family, there’s a chance that Barry will take me on as a client, and maybe, just maybe, he’ll find a publisher for my book.
That thought fills me with excitement and dread.
When I think of putting myself out there where people, strangers, can judge my work, can put their opinions online for the world to see, I’m filled with anxiety.
Do I want to step into that arena? And yet, writing is all I’ve ever wanted to do.
It has been who I am. In the troubled years when my mother and I moved from city to city, when I sat in the back of classrooms, the new girl, always, I had my notebooks that I filled with stories that took me away from the uncertainty that was my life.
If I never get published, I will always write.
That thought grounds me. I’ll finish my novel and worry about the rest later.
I close my laptop and head into the pantry, where boxes of food and canned goods are crowded on floor-to-ceiling shelves.
I peruse the items, looking for something that I can make for lunch, when I notice a key ring hanging on a hook behind the door.
The metal ring looks old, rough, and slightly rusted.
There are maybe a dozen keys hanging from it, and they look old, too.
I wonder if one of them fits the lock on Sunny’s door.
My phone buzzes with a text. Noah.
Meet me at the dock in ten? PLEASE.
I stuff the key ring in my pocket.
OK, I text back.
He’s waiting for me at the end of the Spencer dock, wearing a heavy coat, his laptop under his arm. It feels cold enough to snow, but it’s way too early for that. But there’s definitely an iciness in the wind.
“Hey,” I say, and he turns to face me.
“You got back late last night.”
I bristle. “Were you watching?”
“No. I was up working and I heard Ruth’s car go past. It’s so quiet out here at night, you hear everything.”
“Right. Well, we didn’t leave until the event was completely wrapped up. Alex took his time saying goodbye to everyone. What did you want to talk to me about?” I cross my arms over my chest trying to keep warm.
“You want to go inside? It’s freezing out here.”
I glance back at Spencer House. “All right.” I start walking and he follows.
“Anyone else home?” Noah asks.
“No. Just me. Alex stayed in Boston.”
This is the first time that Noah has been in Spencer House with me. He looks around as if he hasn’t been here in a long time.
We settle in the front room. The fireplace is dark and cold. Wind rattles the windows.
Noah smiles. “I don’t think Alex, or Ruth either, have updated their décor since these houses were built.”
“Yeah. They seem caught in the past. Alex likes that, I guess.”
“He likes his history. That’s for sure. He’s written enough about it.” Noah glances around the room. “Are you doing okay, Emma? Comfortable with this new family?”
“I wouldn’t say comfortable. It’s been daunting. I’m not sure how I fit in. My life here is very different from what I left behind.”
“Tell me about it. You haven’t said too much about your past.”
I wonder if this is Noah the friend or Noah the reporter.
I guess it doesn’t really matter. Nothing is a secret anymore.
“I told you I was raised by my single mother. That we didn’t have much.
That she wouldn’t tell me anything about my father.
She only said that he left her and thus he was a bad man. ”
“Life was difficult?”
“Yes.”
“What do you do for a living? You never really said, not specifically.”
My mind flips back to my past, my working life, the comfort I felt amongst the stacks, my camaraderie with my coworkers. That life pulls at me now. “I’m a librarian. I worked in one of the city libraries in Albany.”
“Really? Then you know how to do research?”
“Of course.”
He sinks back into the sofa. “I wanted to share with you what I found on Carol Lawson.”
“Why?”
“Aren’t you curious? This is part of your father’s history.”
Am I curious? Do I really want to know? “Yes. Okay.”
Noah opens his laptop, clicks keys.
“Do you remember her?” I ask. “I know you would’ve been a little kid.”
He pauses. “Not really. I mean, I sort of remember a redheaded woman at the house a few times. I think it was her. She was loud. That I remember. But there were always people around Spencer House back in the day. Alex has always been a friendly guy. He likes to surround himself with people. I’ve been trying to track down when Carol was here last, when exactly her car ended up in the lake. ”
I shiver. I need to turn the heat up or maybe light the fireplace. “You think something bad happened to her. You don’t think she walked away from her sinking car.”
Noah’s gaze meets mine. “No one has seen or heard from her in nearly thirty years, Emma. I’ve been tracking down her family. Well, a sister. That’s about all she has left. The sister told me some interesting things.”
“Like what?” I’m not sure I want to know.
“She said that Carol and Alex had a tumultuous relationship. But Carol was excited to become Mrs. Alex Spencer. She was planning a big society wedding. And then it was over. The engagement broken out of the blue and Carol was devastated. Carol figured that after Alex’s parents died, the wedding would go ahead since Alex said that they were the ones standing in the way.
But it didn’t turn out that way. Once Alex inherited the house and his writing career was set to take off, he dumped Carol.
The last time the sister saw Carol, she was planning to confront Alex here at Spencer House, but she can’t remember the exact date, only that it was shortly after the Fourth of July. ”
“And that’s the last anyone ever saw her?”
“Yes. I’ve been all over this, and Carol disappeared without a trace.”
“Detective Bellman said that they’d looked for her at the time.”
“There was something of an investigation after she’d been missing awhile. Again, like Aubrey, Carol was a grown woman. She had a right to disappear. I found out from the sister that cops were out here. They talked to Alex and the neighbors. But nothing came of it.”
“They would have noted the date then that Carol was here, wouldn’t they?”
“Yes. But they haven’t shared that with me. I haven’t been able to get much out of Detective Sanchez. And the sister said that Carol was living on her own and they weren’t sure what day she was here, and the cops apparently had no reason to think anything bad had happened to Carol.”
“Until now.”
“Until her car was pulled out of the lake. I spoke with Detective Sanchez. I think the investigation is her baby. She said that since they discovered the car, the investigation is active again, but she wouldn’t say a whole lot more. Does Alex know they’re looking into it?”
“Yes. But I don’t know how much he knows about the investigation. In any case, he doesn’t seem fazed by it.” Is this because he has nothing to worry about or because he’s Alex living in his own Alex world?
Noah glances at his notes. “From what the sister told me, Carol was here the summer of 1995. Again, sometime after the Fourth of July holiday.”
I sit forward, take a deep breath. What do I want to tell Noah about what I’ve discovered about myself and my mother? Is it possible we were here the same time that Carol was here?
Noah stops clicking keys, looks over at me. “What?”
“I was here that summer, too.”
“Huh? What?” His mouth drops open.
“I just learned about it. My mother was here. I was here. I was only three, so I barely remember it. My mother tracked Alex down to tell him about me. In 1995. And it was summertime.”
“Wait. You were here?” Noah points at the floor.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Alex didn’t believe her.” My throat starts to close up. “We were only here a few hours, and then we left, apparently.”
“Wow, Emma. And you just remembered this? Or how did you find out?”
“Yeah. Well, I discovered a couple of things that jogged my memory. I confronted Alex and he confirmed it.”
“And he never said a thing?”
I shake my head.
“The bastard,” Noah says.
“He said he felt terrible about it all and thought I wouldn’t remember anyway. He keeps saying he wants to make it up to me that he was young and careless.”
“You don’t remember seeing Carol, I guess?”
“No. I barely remember being here at all.”
“It’s a long shot, but what if you were here when she disappeared?”
I smirk. “You think my three-year-old self holds the key to Carol’s fate?”
“I don’t know, but one thing I’m convinced of, Carol Lawson never left Cheshire Lake.
” Noah is back on his laptop, head bent, rapidly clicking keys.
He straightens, shifts the computer so I can see it.
A picture of a redheaded woman fills the screen.
She’s young and beautiful with a cheeky smile on her face.
“Ring any bells?” Noah asks quietly.
My heart is beating in heavy thumps. “I don’t know.” My voice is teary. Then it dawns on me that I can narrow down the date that Mom and I were here by Mary’s death date. It’s on her gravestone.
“Alex said that Mary died a few days after we were here. Do you remember when she died?” I ask.
Noah shakes his head. “I don’t know the exact date. I was away at summer camp, remember?”
I jump up from the sofa. “Let’s go out to the cemetery.”
I stride through the cold backyard, coatless and freezing, but I don’t notice as we start down the path. The ends of bare branches reach out and snag my sleeves as if telling me to keep out. You don’t want to know.
The headstones come into view and Noah is breathing heavily behind me. “Wait up, Emma.”
Grabbing the metal gate, I wiggle the latch free. I bypass the large monument that marks my grandparents’ graves and pull up in front of Mary’s. A red maple leaf sits atop the gray stone like a tribute. Noah is at my side. Mary died on July 10, 1995.
“Carol’s sister doesn’t know the exact date that Carol was here?” I ask.
“No. I’ll call her again and see if I can jog her memory. Maybe she can narrow it down. Then we need to figure out exactly when you were here.”
I suddenly feel tired. “What difference does it make, Noah? I don’t remember anything about Carol.
Besides, we don’t know what happened to her really.
Maybe she didn’t leave, but that doesn’t mean they won’t find her remains in the lake at some point.
And it was just a tragic accident. It was a long time ago and there …
can’t be much left. Maybe she’s still down there. ”
“Maybe. But don’t you think she deserves to be found?”
“Of course.”
“You want to go inside, warm up, have a cup of coffee?” Noah looks at his phone. “Detective Bellman and his people are coming by to search my house soon. Maybe I can wheedle some information about Carol from them.”
I nod, take Noah’s hand, and we head for the house.