Mystic Park (Finding Home 4)

In her peripheral vision, Doreen noticed the increased number of customers browsing the titles on the bookstore’s shelves as they made their way to the café. Lunch time.

Nessa followed Doreen’s gaze. “Am I taking you away from something important?”

“We both work full-time jobs in addition to our responsibilities to the town.”

“But along with your mayoral duties and your café, you’re planning a wedding. How’s that going, by the way?”

“Fine, thank you. Is there anything else I can do for you?” Doreen glanced behind Nessa toward her arriving customers. The older couple Megan had hired to help part-time at the café took their positions behind the cash register.

“Yes.” Nessa checked her gold wristwatch. She glanced at the sign on the wall behind the counter, announcing the day’s special. “I’ll take a cup of chicken noodle soup and a half roast beef on rye to go. And you can add a Trinity Falls Fudge Walnut Brownie to that.”

“I’ll just be a moment.” Doreen turned toward the kitchen. She exchanged greetings with her part-time assistants.

Minutes later, she returned to the register with a paper bag containing Nessa’s soup, sandwich, and a slice of the brownie.

The council president met her at the register to pay for her lunch. “If we continue meeting here to discuss town matters, I’ll become heavier and poorer. Is that your intent?”

Was Nessa making a joke? Doreen gave the other woman a smile and the benefit of the doubt. “I offered alternatives to lunch at the café.”

“Those were convenient for you.” Nessa accepted her change.

Doreen fisted her palm behind the register. “Let me know when you come up with something that better suits your schedule.”

“I’ll do that.”

Doreen watched Nessa leave. She was tempted to write off the other woman as a miserable person whose mission in life was to be a thorn in the side of every Trinity Falls mayor. But Ramona McCloud, the former mayor, insisted Nessa had never given her any trouble. Either Ramona was an exception to Nessa’s plan or Nessa’s mission was personal to Doreen. Had she done something to offend the council president?

The sound of a key in the front door lock Tuesday afternoon eased some of Benita’s tension—only some. She stood in the archway between Ms. Helen’s foyer and living room, waiting for her great-aunt to walk through the door.

“Where have you been?” Benita strained to keep an even tone.

Ms. Helen froze with her hand on the doorknob. She stared at Benita as though she’d never seen her before. “Who are you? My mother?” The older woman locked the door, muttering about family members who acted like prison guards.

“I got back from lunch at Books and Bakery, and you weren’t here.” Benita tracked Ms. Helen’s progress across the foyer and through the living room. She followed her great-aunt into the kitchen. “You didn’t leave a note. I didn’t know where you were or when you’d be back.”

“You live in Los Angeles. You never know where I am or when I’ll be back.” Ms. Helen crossed to the stove and plucked the tea kettle from the front burner. She carried it to the sink. “Why is today different?”

“Because, for the next month, I’m living with you in your house.” Benita wondered if her head would explode. She’d never been so worried as when she’d come home and found her great-aunt missing. “The next time you leave the house when I’m not home, could you please leave me a note so I know where you are?”

“No.” Ms. Helen filled the kettle with water from the faucet, then returned it to the front burner. “Would you like some tea?”

Benita caught her breath. No? “What do you mean no?”

“No, I won’t write a note when I leave the house whether or not you’re home.” Ms. Helen turned on the flame beneath the kettle. “Tea? I won’t ask again.”

“Yes, please.” Benita crossed to the kitchen table. She drummed her fingers on its surface. What could she say to convince her great-aunt not to disappear without a trace in the future? “Why won’t you leave me a note?”

“I know you, Benny. Next you’ll want to know who I’m with, what I’m doing, and when I’ll be back. You and I aren’t doing that.” Ms. Helen pulled tea bags, sweeteners, mugs, and teaspoons from the cupboards and drawers. “I’m not asking you to let me know where you are every minute of the day. I’d appreciate the same respect.”

“This isn’t a matter of respect. It’s about your safety.” Benita sighed her frustration. “I’m not an elderly woman, wandering the town alone. I can look after myself.”

“So can I.” Ms. Helen leaned against the counter beside the stove. Her obstinate look conveyed her refusal to be reasoned with.

Benita dropped the subject. For now. “How was your afternoon?”

“Is this where you pump me for information?” Ms. Helen gave her a knowing smile. “I was at the Guiding Light Community Center.”

“I could’ve taken you there, if I’d known you were going.” Subtle?