She took it and set it down slowly. She stared at it as though its contents could be revealed without opening it. Maybe she was just tired, Ian thought. Most likely she had to continue at home the treatments begun in the hospital.
“We’re all glad to have you back on the job, but shouldn’t you be resting?” Ian asked.
“Got some more strays to foist on me, aye?” she quipped in true Carla Callous fashion. But the sting wasn’t in it, and Ian saw in those almost blue eyes a glimmer of humor or resignation or … what? Something was different.
He gave Annie a look to indicate that they should go to allow Carla to rest. “Let me know if you need help with any of the details,” he told Carla.
Ian watched Annie place her hands gently over Carla’s folded ones and thought how comforting her touch would be.
When they reached the door, Carla’s raspy voice came hesitantly. “Thank her for me—will you? Tell her I’m sorry.”
Her? Did she mean Tara? And what was Carla apologizing for?
Annie turned with an apologetic smile. “I think you’ll be able to do that for yourself, but she doesn’t blame you. It was an accident, and she didn’t mind looking after things while you were away.”
Ian said goodbye to a pensive Carla and took Annie’s arm. He drove slowly toward Maplehurst Inn, grateful to have her next to him, and the promise of the evening ahead of them. She seemed quieter than usual—preoccupied perhaps with all that had transpired—but Ian didn’t press her to talk. Being with her was always easy—and special—whether they talked or not. Still, he hoped she knew he was there for her. He remembered the karaoke night at Sweet Nell’s and singing You’ve Got a Friend. He’d sung it especially for her, and he’d meant it with all his heart.
“They have great pasta here,” Ian said when they arrived at Maplehurst Inn. Inside the restaurant, he held her chair for her, aware of the subtle freshness of her perfume that put him in mind of beach roses and soft summer winds.
“Great for a girl’s figure, especially at nearly eight o’clock in the evening,” Annie said with a mock groan.
“Hardly a problem for you,” he said, meaning it, and liking the slight blush that crept into her cheeks. He decided to relieve her embarrassment and changed the subject. “Carla seems rather impressed with your houseguest. The venerable guardian of animals hardly talked about anything else. She chases away most of the volunteers who come to the shelter. What do you think it is about Tara that’s different?”
“I don’t know,” she said reflectively. “They seem to have some kind of bond. It’s very odd. Tara says it’s been like that from the start. Carla has always been gentle with her. She’d be giving someone all sorts of grief on the phone, but to Tara she’d be all sweetness and light. Sometimes she’d stare at her like she was trying to read her mind.”
“Or maybe she was watching her like a hawk to make sure she wasn’t sleeping on the job,” Ian suggested.
“Imagine Carla thinking Tara would be upset with her for getting sick and having to leave everything in her hands. Wanting me to tell her she was sorry. I just can’t figure out our Miss Calloway at all.”
“Nor can I,” Ian agreed. “I’ve never known her to apologize for anything.”
“You know,” Annie said, twirling her water glass in her hand, “Tara told me that while she was cleaning up Carla’s room after the EMTs left, she found an old newspaper clipping by the bed. It was about a young girl visiting Stony Point who stole some guy’s car. She took it for a joy ride and wrapped it around a tree. She wasn’t hurt, but when her mother was coming to get her after the police phoned her, she was killed in an automobile accident.”
“Tragic,” Ian said. “Did it say who the girl was?”
“No, but the newspaper reported the name of the guy whose car was stolen—H.T. Simmons.”
Simmons. The name was familiar, but to his knowledge there were no Simmonses around Stony Point any more. “I think there used to be a Simmons connected with Stella’s family.”
“Yes, so we discovered. Stella wasn’t delighted at the prospect of being connected though.”
“I can imagine,” he said. “Well, it’s a mystery.” He wiped his lips with his napkin. “And speaking of mystery, has anything turned up about Tara’s mother? That’s why she’s hanging around, isn’t it?” He hadn’t meant it to sound derogatory, but he caught Annie’s quick frown. She was touchy on the subject of Tara.