Heart of Ice

Chapter Twenty-one

The white Victorian was full of memories, which was one of the reasons Emily could never let go of it. Her brother hadn’t felt that way, so there was no problem in buying him out after their parents died. She wondered why it was that he hadn’t felt the connection to the old place.

Maybe it was a girl thing?

The house was as decorated as Emily could manage, given the time she’d spent chasing down phantom leads on the Mandy Crawford case. Chris came over from Seattle on Christmas Eve and the two of them cut some pine boughs from the backyard and put them on the mantel. The woodsy fragrance filled the living room.

Chris put his feet up on the ottoman and leaned back, as if he’d been out working as a lumberjack in the woods of the northwest.

“A lot of work,” he said, “but I guess it’s worth it.”

Jenna poked her head into the room. She brought with her an armload of presents.

“Work,” she said, “is all this wrapping I’ve been doing. Wrapping packages so someone can shred it in two seconds. Some traditions are stupid. Give me a gift card any day.”

Emily made a face. “You’d be the first to complain if all you got were gift cards and you know it.”

Jenna eased her packages under the tree, while her mother stood back and regarded her handiwork. She’d done a nice job with the tree, putting up the ornaments that Jenna had made as a child alongside those she’d made for her own mother and father. Her favorite was a raggedy angel with a Styrofoam ball for a head, silver pipe cleaners for a halo, and wings made of cut pieces of a paper plate. It was tacky, all right. But sometimes, tacky can be quite charming.

“Oh, Mom,” Jenna said, spotting the paper plate angel, “can’t we put that in the back where it won’t show?”

“Not on your life.”

“Ugh. It’s embarrassing.”

“Only to you. When you have kids of your own someday—not anytime soon, I hope—you’ll do the same thing.”

“I doubt it.”

“Believe me, when it’s your own child, you’ll love almost everything they do.”

Chris looked a little wistful—his own children were grown, then gone, evaporated into their own lives by a bitter divorce.

Emily caught the look and changed the subject.

“Let’s see about dinner,” she said.

Christmas Eve always meant the biggest turkey that could be found by the cook—first her grandmother, then her mother, then Emily. Emily made a duck sausage stuffing with the fresh chestnuts that Chris bought at Pike Place Market. Roasting the nuts on the stove was his sole contribution to the meal.

In her years as a daughter, wife, and mother, Emily had fixed a turkey every which way—in a paper bag, deep-fried, roasted under a tent of aluminum foil. Jenna had helped with some of the side dishes, of course, and though Emily was far from the point of handing over the turkey duty to her daughter, she enjoyed how much she’d grown into wanting to take over.

“Mom, you and Chris should relax. Maybe there’s something on TV that’ll keep you occupied?”

Emily smiled at Jenna. She was so glad to have her home for Christmas. She would have kept her disappointment to herself if Jenna had elected to have gone west of the mountains to be with her father and baby half sister, instead of staying put in Cherrystone.

“How about we do this together?” she asked, brandishing a whisk.

“Sounds good, Mom. You seem like you’re letting go. That’s good.”

Emily thought of zinging Jenna back, just as she always did. But not that day. For most of the morning, mother and her daughter ruled the kitchen while Chris Collier staked his claim to a football game preview show.

No one said grace aloud when it came time to eat, but inside each of the three gathered around the table knew how blessed they were. After dinner, they opened their gifts. Chris gave Emily an emerald bracelet and a German gun polish that everyone in law enforcement coveted. She gave him a navy cashmere sweater and a tin of Virginia peanuts that she knew were the very best—and his favorite. Jenna was sure her mom had broken the bank with the lovely cream wool peacoat with gold-toned buttons with pink plaid lining from Juicy. She got a pair of black Ugg boots and a Tiffany heart necklace from her father.

“Nice necklace,” Emily said as she fastened it around her daughter’s neck.

Jenna touched the heart as it swung in place. “I circled it on a catalog when I was over there. I knew he didn’t have an imagination, so why not pick something expensive?”

Chris nodded. “Good girl.”

The best gift came from Jenna to her mother.

Emily could have cried when she opened the red box from Talbot’s. Inside, was a pair of fully lined pants made in the same worsted wool fabric as her dreaded A-line skirt that paired with her Sheriff’s uniform jacket.

“Where did you find these?” Emily said, clearly touched.

Jenna beamed. “Chicago, mom. The world’s a lot bigger than Cherrystone and Spokane, you know.”

“Thank you, honey.” Emily hugged her. It was the most thoughtful gift she could have imagined. She could tell the county council members who complain when they see her around town, the truth. She didn’t buy the pants as an FU to their archaic dress code.

“I’m a mother first,” she’d say. “This was a gift from my daughter. I intend to wear them.”

And stay warm.

Mandy Crawford’s disappearance had dominated the week, even the month, as Emily Kenyon tried to put together a puzzle for which there were very few pieces. The photos of Tricia. The affair with Darla. The message on the laptop. Things, she was sure, pointed to Mitch as the purveyor of some kind of evil. But on the other hand, there was still no body. No direct evidence pointing to foul play. Just a bunch of innuendo swirling around a man who seemed to deserve all the bad press and rumormongering that he’d garnered. The pressure was mounting, but the investigation was going nowhere.

Chris stayed over through the weekend, in part to spend time with Jenna, who was back in her girlhood bedroom between consulting assignments at various Beta Zeta sorority chapters in the southern region. When there was a single knock on the door followed by the immediate turn of the knob, everyone directed their attention to the young woman who’d been expected for dinner.

And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Shali Patterson never went anywhere without making an impression. Subtlety in her dress, hair, and manner seemed utterly foreign to her. She worked at a Nordstrom store in Seattle after graduating from Cascade University but knew that she’d find something better someday. She just didn’t know what it would be. Shali and Jenna had been best friends for years, sorority sisters at Cascade, and were destined to be maids of honor at each other’s weddings.

If either found a steady guy that the other approved of, of course. A good guy was as elusive as a pair of sensible shoes.

Both knew that with true, undeniable adulthood holding them prisoner after graduation, the week between Christmas and New Year’s was likely to be the only chance they’d have to really catch up and hang out together until summer.

Chris Collier hadn’t seen Shali in a while, so when she flopped down on the couch next to Jenna and across from where he sat with Emily, all he could do was grin.

“I think doing hair would have been more fun than med school,” she announced.

“I like the pink highlights,” Emily said, from her place next to Chris on the sofa by the Christmas tree.

“Thanks, Mrs. Kenyon. Magenta is what I’m going for. I did it myself because, well, I just got tired of looking like everyone else.”

“You’ve never looked like anyone else, Shali,” Jenna said, peering up from her laptop, a wide smile on her face. “Not for one minute.”

Shali beamed. “It takes some effort to be me, that’s for sure.” She looked over at Emily and Chris. “Look so cozy, you two.”

“We’re good,” Chris said, resting his hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Doing our best.”

“That’s what my mom says. Do your best!” Shali saw her mother’s words as a rallying cry for mediocrity. She would never consider taking up the cause for “doing one’s best” if that meant life in Cherrystone and nothing more.

“How is your mother? I haven’t seen her for quite some time,” Emily said.

Shali looked at Jenna. Obviously, she hadn’t let the cat out of the bag.

“I thought Jenna might have told you.”

“You asked me not to,” Jenna said.

“I would have told, you know.”

“I know. But this friendship of ours would never survive if it was between two people just like you. One of us needs to keep a confidence.”

“I get that and I’m working on it,” Shali said. She looked over at Emily and Chris, enthralled by the Ping-Pong match that was the two young women’s disclosure. “Mom met a guy online. Texas, I think. She’s sure he’s the one.”

Emily looked at Jenna, but returned her gaze back to Shali. “I hadn’t heard.”

“Well,” Shali said, shifting her frame on the chair, “Mom never met a man who couldn’t charm the pants off her.”

“Shali, that’s not nice.”

“Not nice, maybe. But true.” She nudged Jenna to change the subject. “So what’s up with you? How’s it being the sorority nazi?”

“Let’s see,” Jenna said, pretending to look at an imaginary list. “I’ve just entered battle number two with the Beta Zetas at the University of Kentucky.”

“You get all the good schools, don’t you? Seriously, what’s going on with them?”

“Just a bunch of nasty and anonymous e-mails from the girls down there. They’re mad at me because they were caught holed up in the lounge smoking pot, drinking rum shots, and watching America’s Next Top Model—a marathon.”

“I love that show,” Shali said. “That’s what I should have been, instead of doing hair or being a doctor.”

Emily leaned closer to her daughter. Jenna looked at Shali, with a stern shut up now glance. “What’s going on, honey?”

Chris seemed more interested than alarmed. He knew that Jenna could handle just about any situation. She’d proven that long ago. But whether she holds a badge or not, a mom is a mom.

“Just a big mess, Mom. I’m getting e-mails that trash the president, a nice girl named Sarah Lee.”

Shali brightened. “Like the frozen cheesecake?”

“Yeah, like that,” Jenna said.

“Mrs. Kenyon, do you have anything sweet around here?”

“You know where the freezer is, honey.”

Shali got up for the kitchen and Emily, concerned about her daughter, moved into Shali’s spot on the couch. Chris, Emily, and Jenna’s eyes followed Shali out of the room.

“What are the e-mails about? And what’s the national office doing to help?”

Jenna laughed, but it was a laugh choked with sarcasm. “First of all, Nationals does nothing. They talk like they’re so concerned about the girls, their welfare. But all they care about is a smoke-free environment and diversity as long as you’re white.” She clicked on her laptop and read from her e-mails.

“Just so you know, the president here was drunk in her room earlier this week. Three sisters saw her. I’d give you their names, but I don’t want to be dragged into this mess.”

“It came from the same IP address as this one,” Jenna said, scrolling down.

“My father’s a lawyer and he says that he can make a case against the BZs for the way they’ve treated some of the girls here. Sarah Lee is a big liar and a whore. She’s not the kind of girl we want representing any of us here. She’s also bulimic.”

“Sounds pretty petty, Jenna,” Chris put in.

“Tell me about it. I wish I never took this job. Dumb idea.”

Shali came back in the room with a frozen Three Musketeers candy bar. She was so excited she looked like she’d won the lottery. “Mrs. Kenyon, you still freeze these. I love you!”

Jenna smiled at her friend, but resisted the opportunity to say something snarky about frozen candy bars. “I was telling them about those stupid girls back in Kentucky,” she said. “I’m dealing with a bunch of whiners who feel like the whole world is against them when they all drive BMWs and have spray-on tans.”

Shali took a spot on the floor next to the fire. “Tell them about your meeting last week. That sounded so fun.”

“This is good, I guess,” Jenna said, kind of enjoying the attention of her mother and her detective boyfriend. Or whatever he was. “I thought it would die down. You know, Thanksgiving, Christmas, the holiday season. No such luck. One of the girls called Nationals saying that someone peed on her pillow and cut the straps on all of her tank tops and bras.”

“Sounds very mature,” Chris said. “Aren’t these girls adults?”

“Age has nothing to do with maturity,” Emily said, doing everything she could not to land her eyes on Shali’s pink hair.

Jenna was on a roll. “So they had this big meeting. Everything is supposed to be secret, of course. No girl who is being admonished by the chapter or Nationals is supposed to speak of it to anyone. But Sarah Lee did. I got to the meeting place—a banquet room in the back of a pizza restaurant off campus—and I had to walk past at least two dozen BZs. They glared at me and said that I was being unreasonable.”

“Sounds like a Lifetime movie. You know the part, where the girl has to walk past all of her classmates that know that she was really raped by the quarterback with the shaved pecs and sexy stubble on his face.”

“Tiffany Amber in No One Heard Her Scream.”

“Yes. That’s how it felt. A very Tiffany Amber moment.”

Chris looked at Emily and Jenna. They clearly understood Shali’s reference to a TV movie. He didn’t have a clue, but said nothing. Admitting he didn’t know who or what Tiffany Amber was, would only serve to make him older than his fifty years.

And he wasn’t doing that.

“So, anyway,” Jenna went on, “enough of that tangent. The bottom line here is that Sarah Lee’s dad, the lawyer, threatened to take the BZs for everything they had if they didn’t fix the problem. He used words that made the national office shudder with fear.”

Chris, once more, looked puzzled.

Emily touched his shoulder. “This is a shot in the dark, but is it the you’re fostering a hostile learning environment?”

“Yup,” Jenna said, “the gold standard.”

“So what happened?” Chris asked.

“Nothing. Same as usual. The nice girls get bullied by the ones who have the loudest parents with the most money.”

“Sounds like a Little League baseball game,” Emily said.

“That’s about right, Mom. The only thing that I hate worse than the drama of a dispute that’s escalated to the national level is making a road trip to help some failing house build up its pledge base.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Chris said. “I mean, it’s all about marketing, right?”

“Honestly, Chris, sometimes it feels like it’s all about babysitting. I know it isn’t much longer and I’ll be off to law school by this time next year, but I really do hate what I’m doing.”

Emily wanted to kick her ex-husband and his greedy wife Dani to the curb just then. If they had helped out a little more, Jenna might have taken another route to finance more of her education. Emily wondered if she had miscalculated and should have pushed for more college loans. She just couldn’t, having experienced the burden firsthand with her own student loans and David’s from medical school.

“Who’s hungry?” Shali asked. “Because I am.”

“You always are,” Jenna said, ending the conversation about money, her dad, and bratty sorority girls.

“Your mom can cook. My mom never met a can opener she didn’t like. What’s that I smelled when I came in here?”

Emily stood and looked toward the kitchen. “Nothing fancy. Just the best meal you’ll ever have. Come on. Let’s eat.”

“Just a sec,” Jenna said turning her attention back to her laptop screen. “I have to finish this blog post.”

“What are you doing, blogging? That’s so five minutes ago.”

“I know. The headquarters women think it is so ‘cutting-edge’ to blog. But that’s how we share the information that builds stronger sisterhood or something like that.”

She finished typing the entry:

Hi Girls,

I’m looking so forward to seeing all of you in Dixon. I might be late, so dinner might not work out. Could someone save me a late plate, just in case? We’ll have so much fun talking about recruitment and how we can maximize our efforts to ensure that we have the very best new pledges. Go BeeZees!

Love, Jenna Kenyon, your Southern District Consultant

She posted a happy-face icon and powered down.

Dinner smelled so good.

A thousand miles away, a man logged on to Jenna’s blog. Her picture filled him with an unbridled rage that he was sure would be transparent to anyone who saw his face, even days later. She was pretty, sure. He tried hard to read more into what she was saying on her blog. How it spoke of her frivolous nature. How it indicated that she was a callous bitch who cared only about herself.

And now she was about to get what she deserved. She was on his list.