Nothing worked.
To Griffin’s mind, the solution was obvious.
His niece wouldn’t improve without the guidance of an experienced child psychologist. Jackie needed help processing the senseless death of her friend. Since no one in his family agreed—at least, not publicly—he’d stopped broaching the subject. Even if he got Sally on board, her husband would veto the idea. Trenton never put a toe out of line with Griffin’s father.
The hard-edged and successful Everett Marks viewed psychology as a pseudoscience for the simpleminded.
In the grand foyer, light from the chandelier sparkled across the stone flooring. The low thump of music floated down the staircase. Curious, Griffin went upstairs to investigate. The quiet second floor smelled of lemon furniture polish and lavender; he climbed another flight of stairs to the beautifully appointed attic his mother called her own. The large, rectangular space was swathed in feminine accoutrements, from the floral wallpaper to the overstuffed chintz upholstery. Apparently, Griffin’s niece had selected the music playing softly from the built-in speakers: Abbey Road. Recently the ninth grader had discovered the Beatles’ iconic music.
At the attic’s far end, a white table nested beneath the eaves. Winnie sat beside her granddaughter.
Her silvered head lifted. “Griffin! I didn’t expect to see you for another hour.”
“I left work early.” He owned Design Mark, the website design firm across the street from his father’s car dealership not far from Chardon Square. “I was hoping to chat with Sally before dinner.”
“About what?”
Brow arching, he leveled her with a glance. None of your business.
“Ah. I see,” she said brightly. She’d always taken pride in the close relationship between her two children. Changing the subject, she asked, “Did you land the winery?”
“The one in Geneva? Not yet. They’re waiting for another quote from an outfit in Shaker Heights. I should have an answer by next week.” He hesitated. “Am I interrupting?”
“Of course not. Come see what we’re doing.” She waved him closer. “Your father and Trenton are still at the dealership. We’ll eat at six thirty.”
“Beef bourguignon?” He’d caught the mouthwatering scent on his way upstairs.
“Compliments of your sister. She’s in the kitchen, finishing up.”
Cartons surrounded the table. Inside were neatly organized white packets of photos. The more recent additions Winnie had downloaded and made into glossies. She despised the ephemeral nature of selfies and social media; every month or two, she ordered physical copies of the best snaps from her phone. Winnie also loved crafts, everything from needlework and quilting to paint-by-number pictures she completed and then stored away.
Apparently, she was now devising a new project to occupy her granddaughter. Since Lark’s funeral, she’d led Jackie through a variety of crafts. Winnie held the unshakable belief that with enough busywork, her granddaughter would regain her sunny temperament.
Sidestepping the boxes, Griffin appraised his niece. Jackie was bent over a leather album, a group of photos by her elbow. Her disturbingly chopped hair stuck up every which way. Faint shadows rimmed her eyes. Her skin was unnaturally pale, as if she hadn’t glimpsed sunlight in days.
When he rested his palm on her shoulder, she barely stirred. “How are you, kiddo?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Did you go to school today?”
“Grandma let me stay with her.”
“I was glad for the company,” Winnie put in. Her instinct to protect her only grandchild was fierce.
“Mom, she can’t keep skipping school. Tenth grade begins soon. The coursework gets harder.”
“How you exaggerate. It’s only February. Jackie won’t finish this term for another four months.”
Jackie’s eyes lifted. “I’ll go to school tomorrow, Uncle Griffin. I’ll keep up with the work.”
“I have your word?”
“Sure.” Putting the debate to rest, she nodded at the images before her. “Which one do you like? I can’t decide.”
From the looks of it, she was filling the album in chronological order, from her birth to the present day. Griffin sifted through the photos, taken when she was in elementary school. Jackie posing in a purple mermaid costume for Halloween. Playing basketball with a group of other girls. His niece seated on the front lawn before the Thomerson mansion, her arm slung around Stella Thomerson’s neck.