Page 76 of The Guests on South Battery
“Thanks, Nola. I appreciate that.”
She was frowning, which always meant she had more to say, so I remained quiet until she spoke again. “I tried to take them out the back door, but they wouldn’t go. It’s hard to move twelve locked paws out of a house and down steps, so I took them out the front door.”
“I don’t blame them,” I said. “I avoid the back door, too, and probably for the same reason.”
We both raised our eyebrows in mutual understanding.
“Unfortunately, Meghan broke her foot and it’s delaying the excavation process. It’s going to be a while until they can get back to it.”
She frowned in contemplation as Sarah crawled from her lap toward the chest of drawers where I’d placed the bag Sophie had given me. I’d forgotten all about it, having meant to leave it downstairs, but I’d had the handle around my arm when I carried the boxes of albums inside to Jack’s study and then had run upstairs to see the children. I’d needed to see them in an almost desperate way. There was something reassuring and stress-relieving about stroking their hair and soft skin, and feeling their little arms hug my neck. Even drool on my cheek was something I looked forward to.
I turned to Nola. “Has your father asked you about the frame that was on his desk downstairs? It suddenly reappeared in the foyer and we were wondering if maybe you had moved it and why.”
“Seriously? You think I’d go into my dad’s office and move something? I treasure my hands and fingers too much. So, no. I don’t even go to his corner of the room. Actually, I haven’t been in that room for a while, even to play the piano. My music is still not cooperating—at least not here. If I’m in the park or somewhere not here, I’m fine.”
“Must be something in the air, since your dad is having the same issue. I’m sure it’s a passing thing. But are you sure you didn’t pick up the frame by mistake?”
She sent me a leveling look. “Positive.”
I frowned, not sure which was more upsetting—the fact that she was in a creative crisis or that she hadn’t moved the frame. And neither had Mrs. Houlihan or Jayne.
Sarah pulled herself up against the chest and banged on it with both hands, looking up. “What’s that?” Nola asked, standing with JJ in her arms. He’d be content to stay there for hours if allowed.
“I guess it belongs to Jayne. They’re what remain of seven snow globes that were broken in the attic of the Pinckney house. They’re part of a collection that belonged to Hasell Pinckney—the young girl who died.”
“How’d they get broken?” Nola asked as she carefully pulled them out of the bag with one hand and began placing them in a row on the flat top of the dresser.
“Good question,” I said, rising to get Sarah, who was now bouncing up and down with excitement. “The first three were broken to get our attention, I’m guessing, and Sophie seems to think the last four were broken intentionally. She said it looked like they’d been placed deliberately.”
Sarah began fretting and reaching for the bases, but I held her back, aware of the sharp edges of glass that might still be on them.
Nola grimaced. “Why would Sophie give them to you?”
“Just in case they were some sort of message, she said. I figured I’d give them to Jayne and let her decide what to do with them.”
Sarah was in the throes of a full meltdown and I attempted to give her a pacifier, which she immediately spat out. “She was absolutely fine a minute ago. I have no idea what’s got into her,” I said, bouncing her on my hip and walking away, but she kept reaching for the remains of the snow globes, throwing herself into a full backward arch.
Nola picked up the gray-painted base with a suspension bridge still crossing a blue-painted ribbon of water, the wordCincinnatiwritten with silver plastic lettering on the lip. She held it up to Sarah, just out of her reach, and the baby shook her head, then pushed out her hands in an emphatic no.
“What are you doing?” I asked, wondering if I should take Sarah’s temperature.
“Hang on.” Nola held up the one from Ottawa and then Sacramento, each receiving the same reaction.
“Nola,” I said, struggling to hold on to the squirming baby. “I think that’s enough.”
“Just one more,” she insisted, grabbing the one from Miami and holding it up for Sarah to see.
She immediately calmed down, settling into my arms and laying her head on my shoulder to show me she was tired. She pointed at all that remained of the Miami snow globe, then placed her finger in her mouth with a contented sigh.
My gaze met Nola’s. “Miami?”
She shrugged, the movement making JJ laugh. “Maybe she just likes Miami.”
“Or there’s something about that particular snow globe she’s trying to tell us.”
“True,” Nola said, resting her chin on the top of JJ’s head, which had sunk onto her shoulder. “Or something someoneelseis trying to tell us through her.”
I’d thought the same thing but hadn’t wanted to say it out loud. But now there it was, out in the open, where I couldn’t ignore it. “Let’s put the babies to bed, and then I’m going to move those things out of here.”
