Discovering (Lily Dale #4)(58)

“Well, it’s been great meeting you all,”the guide tells the small group of prospective students and their parents, “and I wish you luck, whether you wind up at Cornell next year or not.”

Not, Calla thinks as the group disperses.

If she’s learned anything today, it’s that she doesn’t want to be this far from home. The mountains and gorges of central Pennsylvania and New York State are scenic— breathtaking, even—but she misses Lily Dale already.

Enough that she’s certain heading to Colgate will be a waste of time.

No, she’s anxious to get back home and wait— or at least, hope—for word on her sister. Gammy said the detectives have had no luck finding Laura Logan so far, but they’re searching.

“Are you hungry?”Dad asks as they leave the information center, heading toward the visitors’ parking lot.

“A little.”She idly watches a group of ghostly students in 1950s-style poodle skirts, bobby sox, and high ponytails cross their path.

“Why don’t we go to lunch somewhere in town before we head out to Hamilton?”

“Dad, about that—”

“Calla!”

Startled to hear a male voice shout her name, she spins around.

Kevin.





TWENTY-EIGHT

Geneseo, New York

Saturday, October 13

2:55 p.m.

Filled with misgivings, Laura steps off the bus in Geneseo at last.

Her flight was delayed for hours due to heavy rains sweeping western New York. As she sat endlessly waiting by the gate at JFK airport, it was all she could do not to turn and leave the airport. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that she had already checked her bags, and she knew the plane wouldn’t be able to take off without her on board to go with her luggage.

Now that she’s here, though, she desperately wishes she hadn’t come.

She’s desperately tired, and desperately hungry, and after paying the bus fare, she has less than five dollars to her name.

Not sure what will greet her when she reaches the purple house—but certain the fridge contents will be spoiled and the cupboards bare as usual—she decides to stop at the Speakeasy Café first. She might just barely be able to afford a cup of coffee and something small to eat.

Stepping into the warm, cozy room, with its exposed brick walls and battered hardwood floors, Laura is comforted by the strong, welcoming scent of coffee and baked goods. The small, round café tables are filled with college students, none of whom give her a second glance. That’s fine with her. She heads for the counter, with its colorful chalkboard menu, and does some quick math. Yup. If she buys coffee and a muffin, she’ll have about twelve cents left over.

Then what?

Then you’ll figure it out, she tells herself. One step at a time.

She waits on the line, pretending to be absorbed by the television set mounted on the wall: breaking news on CNN. There’s been a catastrophic earthquake today in Shanghai.

Watching the footage of traumatized people being pulled from the rubble, Laura feels as though she can relate to them: her world has been shaken to the core, and nothing is familiar.

“Well, look who’s back in town.”The tattooed, heavyset female cashier behind the counter eyes her suitcases.

“Hello,”Laura says politely, trying not to panic.

Just because the woman, who happens to be a longtime neighbor on her block of Center Street, has noticed that she’s been away doesn’t mean—

“I heard about your mother.”

Oh, yes it does. Well, of course people know . Being arrested for murder is big news. National news. How could Laura have fooled herself for one instant into believing that the people of Geneseo aren’t buzzing?

The cashier, with sympathetic eyes, leans closer to Laura and whispers, “The cops have been in here looking for you.”

“When?”

“A few times. Most recently, last night. A coupla detectives from Florida. They’ve been asking for you all over town, I heard. They said it’s real important that they talk to you, and they asked me to call them if I saw you. Now, I can pretend that I didn’t, if you want to make yourself scarce again . . . but you might just want to get it over with. Sooner or later, they’ll catch up with you, and if you’ve got nothing to hide . . .”

“I don’t,”Laura tells her, surprised by her kindness— and her offer. “Do what you have to do.”

The woman nods. “You poor thing. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Conscious of a pair of coeds who have come up behind her, waiting to order, she says, “No. Thank you, though.”

“Okay. What can I get for you, then?”

Her appetite is gone, but she has to eat something. Once she gets back home, she’s not going to venture out again for a long, long time. “Can I please have a coffee and a corn muffin?”

“Sure. Large or small on the coffee?”

Again, she counts the bills and change in her hand. “Small,”she says reluctantly.

The woman fills a large cup, anyway, and puts several muffins into a white paper bag. “Here,”she says, “it’s on the house. You just take care of yourself.”

Her eyes tearing up, Laura gratefully takes the bag. For the first time, she dares to think she might just be okay here after all.