“We’ll work this out, Tess. But later. First we need to find a place for you to stay. I would have you stay at my house, but I don’t think we should. Yet.” He grinned, and she smiled back.
Which reminded her. “Did Jill ever return my call? I can’t believe I forgot all about her.”
“She didn’t call my cell, but obviously I can’t tell you about the landline.”
“I should call her again, let her know what’s happened.”
He handed her his cell phone. “Call her and see if she’s okay.”
Tessa scrolled through the recently called numbers, found Jill’s cell number, and hit the CALL button. “I need one of these gizmos.” Jill’s voice mail picked up, and Tessa left another message, telling her it was urgent that Jill return her call.
“No answer.” Tessa gave him the phone back. “I do not think she would be at the office this late. She told me she had one appointment scheduled for early this morning, said it couldn’t be rescheduled. This isn’t like her. I’m starting to worry.”
“It’s just after three now. Are you sure she told you she would stay here tonight?”
“Yes, she was going to cancel her appointments for the rest of the week, so we could spend time together. The Jill that I know always does what she says.”
“I can drive by her house, check to see if she’s there. Her office, too.”
“You’re sure? It would ease my mind. I can start cleaning up this mess. I can stay here tonight; the beds aren’t damaged. I know you’re my guardian, and if you’d rather go to your place, I’m okay with that. As long as this”—she pointed to the ankle monitor—“is allowed to be wherever we go.”
“I’m fine staying here. It’s messy, but that’s not a problem for me. There should be some Windex in the kitchen under the sink if you decide to clean the print powder. I have been told that it usually does a decent job.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tessa said.
“Are you sure you’re okay being here alone?”
Honestly, she wasn’t, but it was the middle of the afternoon, the place had already been searched and trashed, and surely that was enough for one day. Chances of anything happening for half an hour or so were slim.
“I’ll be fine. Just check on Jill and make sure the alarm is on when you leave.”
“Here, put this in your pocket just in case.” He handed her his cell phone.
“What if I need to call you?”
“You’re right, give it back, but use the landline. The phone in the kitchen wasn’t smashed.”
“Okay, I’ll get started then,” Tessa said, and began scooping up handfuls of her past, Joel’s past, and her children’s past. She wasn’t crying. That was a good thing, she supposed.
Sam left without saying good-bye. Why was this thought running through her head when she was in the midst of cleaning up after someone who obviously thought she had something they wanted?
Taking her time, Tessa sifted through the contents as she picked through the mess. An old John Grisham novel; he’d been Joel’s favorite author. Two sweaters, one red and one purple. She held them against her face, inhaling the scent, hoping for that familiar little-girl smell she loved so much. Sweet honey, fresh strawberries would always remind her of them.
But the sweaters smelled musty, and she placed them inside an empty box. She would pack up their clothes and take them to a place where they would benefit other little girls. She would keep some of their clothes, like the Harry Potter shirts, but she wasn’t even sure how long she would have the freedom to pack up their belongings, so it was best to do as much as she could while she was still a free woman.
She bent over to grab a handful of Joel’s dress shirts when an old photograph caught her attention. She dropped the shirts in a pile and reached for the small frame. She didn’t remember this. It was a picture of Joel, maybe when he was in the seventh or eighth grade. A school picture. The background was the typical sky-blue color most school photographers used, but this photo looked different. Standing by the window to capture the light, she viewed the picture closely, then removed it from the frame. She traced the face, feeling the texture of the photo. It was sturdier than your typical, stock school photos. She looked at the back of the picture. On the bottom left of the picture in gold script it read: Canterberry’s, Savannah, Georgia. “Joel never lived in Georgia,” she said out loud.
She looked at the face in the picture. It was definitely Joel. But why hadn’t he told her he had lived in Georgia? It was odd as he was a true Florida Cracker, born and bred, his words. There weren’t many true Floridians, it being such a tourist state. Something they’d both shared, their birth state. The pharmaceutical company started by Grant was in Florida. Joel went to college at Florida State University in Tallahassee. That’s where he met Sam, though Sam continued his education in Georgia. He’d said he went to Emory Law. Maybe there was a connection? It was perplexing, to say the least. She tucked the photo in her pocket and would ask Sam if he knew that Joel had gone to school in Georgia.
She started scooping up another handful of clothes when the thought struck her that there was something odd about the picture. She took it from her pocket and went back to stand by the window, where the lighting was better. The boy was Joel, but there was something different about him in the photo. She turned the photo left and right and viewed it from every angle possible before she realized what was slightly odd. It was the eyes in the picture. Joel’s green eyes sparkled, it was one of his best
