Page 29 of The Attic on Queen Street
“Who’s ‘they’?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t... know. They wouldn’t let me see.”
My gaze met Jayne’s, my throat smarting as I spoke. “Still on board?” I asked.
Her smile didn’t completely hide her worry. “Stronger together, remember?”
I nodded as we each squeezed one of our mother’s hands. We stood together, carefully pulling her to her feet. “I’m taking you home and putting you to bed. Jayne can make up something to tell Dad.”
Thomas picked up the Discman and the yearbook. “I’m taking these both to see what we might have missed. I’ll be in touch.” After being assured that Ginette was going to be fine, he said his good-byes and left, Jayne’s gaze following him until he’d rounded the corner of the house.
As I watched him leave, something soft hit me on the side of the head. We all looked down, spotting the red heart-shaped pillow with the ruffled edge that had once belonged to a young woman who’d been dead for over twenty years.
CHAPTER 9
I brought my order outside to the small red table in front of the Queen Street Grocery, my stomach grumbling at the scent of my Nutella crepe smothered in powdered sugar and whipped cream. I’d opted for the side of fruit to quash any guilt. It wasn’t my preferred doughnut for breakfast, but anything from the Queen Street Grocery was a worthy substitution.
A young waitress wearing a College of Charleston T-shirt brought out my large cappuccino with an extra helping of steamed milk foam on top. I resisted the impulse to lick it, instead leaning forward and closing my eyes, breathing in deeply and enjoying the moment. Despite it being February, the temperature was almost balmy with a rare treat for Charleston—low humidity. I sat back in my chair, intent on allowing myself to be momentarily happy. My family was under the same roof, I was ready to finalize my first sale in over four months, and I was about to eat real breakfast food without the disapproving glances of Sophie or Nola.
“Mrs.Trenholm?”
My eyes shot open to see Meghan Black standing next to my table, wearing an adorable pink swing coat with a large bow at the shoulder,black leggings, and riding boots. I’d seen the entire outfit in the front window of the Finicky Filly. Either Meghan had found another source of income, or her mother still loved dressing her little girl.
“I’m meeting Mrs.Farrell.” I hadn’t meant it to come out as a shout or to sound like I was apologizing.
“Okay...” Meghan said slowly.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought Sophie or Nola sent you.”
When her look of confusion didn’t clear, I said, “Have a seat. I think my friend is running a bit late.” Which was understandable, considering the construction commotion at Veronica’s house. I’d set up the breakfast meeting so I could tell her about the episode in my back garden the previous day.
“Thank you,” she said, sitting down and hanging her black-and-white polka-dot Kate Spade backpack on the back of her chair. “I’ll just stay a minute.”
I took a sip of my cappuccino, and was careful to wipe off any foam from my mouth. “Thanks for your help in packing up our valuables. We really appreciate it. I’m glad to see you today, because there was something I needed to ask you and I didn’t get the opportunity the other day with everyone being so busy.”
She smiled patiently as she flicked her phone to silent mode and placed it facedown on the table—something I greatly appreciated.
“It’s about a Frozen Charlotte doll inside a little coffin we found in Nola’s bedroom. We weren’t sure how it ended up there, so we were thinking you might have left it or at least know how it got there.”
“A Frozen Charlotte and coffin?” Her eyebrows formed a V over her nose. “In Nola’s room?”
I nodded. “She found it on her nightstand and has no idea how it got there.”
“No idea?” Meghan stared at me with round, questioning eyes.
“No idea,” I repeated. “We were thinking you might have found it in the cistern and then brought it inside to show us.”
She slowly shook her head. “I know what a Frozen Charlotte is, but I haven’t found one in your cistern. And if I had, I would have given itto Dr.Wallen-Arasi first. Except...” She stopped, her large brown eyes settling on me for a moment before she quickly looked away.
“Except?”
She pointed at my crepe. “Is that a Nutella crepe? They’re so good here, aren’t they?”
“Except?” I repeated, not wanting to get sidetracked.
Meghan laced her fingers together and rested them on top of the table. “I don’t think it came from your cistern.”
“No?”
