The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(42)
Yvonne smiled appreciatively up at Jack. “That’s very sweet of you, Jack. But really, what I think you’ve done is made me aware that something was amiss. That something went unmentioned because it wasn’t seemly.”
Jack held on to her hand without saying anything, and it seemed to be the encouragement she needed.
“There was one thing. . . .”
Their eyes met, and I found myself holding my breath.
“Anna wasn’t buried at Magnolia Cemetery next to her husband and daughter. They buried her in her family’s cemetery in Aiken. As Button was the only remaining close family relative, that would have been her decision.”
“That’s very interesting,” Jack said.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Yvonne leaned closer. “And I trust you to use this information with the strictest discretion.”
“You know I never kiss and tell, Yvonne.”
She flushed as she slid her hands from his. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know.” He quickly stood and moved around the table to pull out her chair, leaving me to my own devices.
I picked up the folder. “Thank you, Yvonne, for your help. I’m not sure if any of this means anything that can help Jayne, but at the very least maybe it will get Jack started on his next book.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek, smelling baby powder and Aqua Net and being reminded of my grandmother.
“You are very welcome, Melanie. You know I enjoy these puzzles Jack likes to throw my way. Keeps me young. Well, that and Zumba.”
My eyes widened in surprise but I didn’t comment. We said our good-byes, then left, Jack’s hand protectively on the small of my back as we walked down the front steps, both of us deep in thought.
When we got down to the sidewalk, I looked up at Jack, his brow furrowed. “What’s bothering you?”
“I’m not sure. It’s either the reason Button decided that Anna Pinckney wasn’t to be buried with her husband and child or the visual of Yvonne Craig doing Zumba.” He smiled, and I could have sworn my heart skipped a beat. “I think I need to find out more. I’m going to head to the Charleston Museum now to visit the archives and see what I can dig up.”
“Don’t you need an appointment?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Not always.”
I put my hand on his arm. “Just promise that you’ll let me know anything you find before you tell Jayne. She told me that sometimes the answers you find can be something you wish you never knew. Like she’s been down this road before and was disappointed. Like she’s tried to find her parents time and again and can’t stand to hit another dead end.”
“And you don’t want her to be disappointed because then you might lose a nanny?”
I shook my head. “No. I think it’s because I like Jayne, and I think she’s had a difficult life so far.” And because she reminds me a little bit of me. “I don’t want to be the cause of any more bumps for her.”
“Deal,” he said, bending down to kiss me lightly on the lips. He handed me the car keys. “I can walk. I’ll see you at home.” Something about the way he said that sent goose bumps all over my body.
“See you there,” I said, turning toward the minivan, Yvonne’s words twirling in my head. “She died at home.” I needed to go back to Jayne’s house, but not alone. If there was a presence in the house that wanted me to go away, there was only one person I knew who could help me overpower it. Or at least help me determine who or what it was, since my abilities seemed to have deserted me, and it was really starting to make me mad. I hit the speed dial on my phone and waited for my mother to pick up, remembering again Yvonne’s words, and wondering why Anna had been buried far away from her husband and only child.
CHAPTER 12
The warmer weather had returned, waking up all the dormant gardens Charlestonians took such pride in. Although it was only the beginning of February, flowers were sprouting from window boxes and planters—both easily removed to the indoors for the unexpected frost that was bound to descend before the official start of spring. It was how those native to the city could distinguish who was “from off.” The newly arrived residents started planting their annuals at the first waft of warm air, then were spotted weeping from their piazzas at the sight of browned and withered plants when the mercury plummeted below thirty the following week.
I walked the few short blocks to my mother’s house on Legare Street, wearing the sneakers and yoga clothes she’d purchased for me. She’d said they were a gift to herself, as she’d decided to begin a walking regimen to stay fit and healthy. She had the stamina and figure of a twenty-year-old, so I had no idea why this obsession had suddenly taken hold of her, but she didn’t want to walk alone and I was the most likely candidate for a partner. My father preferred gardening to walking, although I think he might have found power-walking to be too much of a threat to his masculinity—as if gardening weren’t mostly a female-dominated hobby. But he seemed to enjoy his status as one of the few males in his gardening club.
That was why I had aqua blue sneakers on my feet (the ones I’d worn during pregnancy were too stretched out to be worn by anyone except perhaps a baby elephant) and was wearing yoga pants in public—something I had actually seen Sophie doing more than once. I wondered whether the end of the world might be near, seeing as how Sophie and I were now wearing similar outfits.