Mrs. Lewis quieted, her tears stalling. “You’re very kind. Have you made peace with your loss?”
I hoped she didn’t feel me tense beneath her. “In a way. The person who attacked my mother was never identified. I had to get over the fact that there was no one to blame for her death.” I failed to mention that I had not gotten over that at all. “People need closure for their grief.”
“What if the police don’t find the killer?” Mrs. Lewis sniffled. “I might not be as strong as you.”
“You are,” I assured you. “But just in case, why don’t I give you my business card? I’m a private investigator. If the police keep you in the dark, feel free to give me a call.”
She lifted her head from my shoulder. “I’ll do that, honey. Thank you for everything. I’m Linda, by the way.”
“Jacqueline. And it’s my pleasure—” Over Linda’s head, I spotted Evelyn outside the elevators, crossing her arms and glaring at me. “If you’ll excuse me, Linda, I’m on my way out.”
Evelyn didn’t say anything the whole ride back to the car park or on the drive home. When I asked her how her meeting with Rhys went, she harrumphed and stared out the window. She maintained the silent treatment until we returned to the flat. As I made a beeline for the bathroom—too much complimentary coffee and water in the Wagner Company’s lobby—she cornered me.
“You can’t leave well enough alone, can you?” she demanded. “Don’t you think Linda Lewis has enough going without you prying into her personal life?”
“So it’s true?” I asked. “Your company is handling her protection services? Do they really think someone might be trying to hurt her?”
“Stop asking questions!” She groaned and squeezed her temple as if I was giving her a headache. “Why can’t you stay out of it? Why is it impossible for you to mind your own business?”
“You’re the one who brought me there,” I reminded her. “I didn’t ask Linda for any information. I only offered her comfort.”
“And your business card.”
“Just in case.”
“You know what?” She stormed past me and into the bathroom. “I was going to ask if you wanted company in Windsor, but forget about it. You can handle your past on your own.”
She slammed the door in my face. I hammered my fist against it.
“What?”
“I have to pee.”
I frowned all the way to Windsor. Why couldn’t Evelyn cut me some slack? She hadn’t always been this enormously grumpy. I’d attributed her terrible mood swings to her injury, but I was starting to suspect something else was going on with her. Whatever it was, she refused to share it with me. All I could do was wait her out.
As the city streets faded behind me and the countryside appeared before me, a familiar sense of longing settled in my chest. I spent half of my childhood in Windsor, riding horses, taking piano lessons, and eating scones. Of the three, I only continued to nurse my talent in scone-eating. I passed Virginia Water Lake, where my mother and I had dallied away the weekends. My nightmare from the previous night crept up again, but I chased it away with fond memories of better times.
Nadine had invited me to a familiar café in town. She had already grabbed a table and saved a seat for me. When she spotted me outside, she waved me over.
“Glad you made it,” she said, kissing both cheeks. “Tea or coffee? Care to share a treat?”
“Tea, please.” Mom had favored tea. “And a scone with jam and clotted cream.”
“Coming right up.”
Minutes later, Nadine returned to our table, balancing a teacup in each hand and a plate on her wrist. Somehow, she set them all down without dropping anything.
“Well?” she prompted right away. “How have you been?”
I filled her in on my life since I’d seen her last, leaving out the less savory bits. Regrettably, the unsavory bits made up quite a large portion of my life. I quickly ran out of things to say about it and relied heavily on anecdotes of my recent days with Evelyn.
“What do you do for work?” Nadine asked.
I stirred another clump of sugar into my tea, though it was sweet enough already. “I have an online presence. I guess you could say I’m an influencer.”
Nadine chuckled. “It’s astounding you kids can make money that way. Such a strange business. Tell me, how do you keep your customers happy? What do you post about? Better yet—” She whipped out her phone. “What’s the web address?”
“My website’s down,” I blurted out. “The server crashed, and I haven’t had time to fix it since I started helping Evelyn.”
Nadine pouted but put her phone away. “So you never made it to university, eh? Bet I could change your mind.”
I grasped at the subject change. “I’m sure you could. Fancy Oxford professor and all that. When you first started babysitting me, you were still a graduate student. How did you work your way up?”
“The traditional way,” she replied. “Schmoozing my superiors.” We laughed, then she added, “In all seriousness, I put in hours of hard work. It took years for the older professors to respect me as a woman in their field, especially after—” Like yesterday in the library, she cut herself off and glanced at me with wary eyes.
“You can talk about my mother,” I told her. “I won’t combust or anything.”
Nadine’s eyes crinkled. “When I saw you at the library yesterday, I thought you were her. I thought you were a damned ghost.” She tilted her head, observing me. “You look more like your father up close. You have his nose.”
I thought
