It made sense, Tess thought. Wharton was a small town. Of course, people of around the same age would know each other. She had only vacationed in Wharton but wondered if she and Wyatt had crossed paths in the past. That would certainly explain the instantly familiar feeling between them.
“I’m doing some work for Tess at her house,” Wyatt went on. “La Belle Vie. She’s turning it into a bed-and-breakfast.”
“Oh!” Kathy said. “How nice. Giving the old place new life. I love it. So, you’ll be in Wharton permanently?”
“That’s the plan,” Tess said.
“Wonderful,” Kathy said. “I’ll stop by when we get back in the spring.”
“Please do,” Tess said. “My parents will be coming to Wharton around that time, too.” She stopped short of telling her why.
“Great!” Kathy said. “It will be great to catch up with them.”
“Mom,” Wyatt said, his words coming out slowly. “While we were doing some renovations, we came upon something that has created a sort of mystery. I think you might be able to shed some light on it.”
“Well, that sounds intriguing. What is it?”
“Do you know someone named Daisy Erickson?”
Silence, then.
“Mom?”
“I’m here,” she said. “That just took me off guard. I haven’t thought about Daisy in years. What about her? Why would you bring her up?”
Tess winced. She and Wyatt hadn’t talked about what, if anything, they were going to tell his mother about the paintings. Her father had given her strict orders to keep their existence under wraps until he could make the trip to Wharton in the spring. It was sketchy enough showing the paintings to Joe, but really, who was he going to tell about them? Wyatt’s mother was another matter.
They exchanged a quick glance, and somehow Tess knew Wyatt was on the same page.
“Daisy came up in relation to something going on at La Belle Vie right now,” Wyatt said. “Pop said you and she were friends, and she left Wharton many years ago.”
Kathy was silent for a moment. “Okay, so you’re not going to tell me exactly what it is, right?”
Wyatt smiled and shot Tess a look. “Well. Right. Not at the moment. It’s sort of a mystery we’re trying to solve. Very hush-hush.”
“Okay, Hercule Poirot,” Kathy teased. “What do you want to know?”
“Pop said she left town,” Wyatt said. “Do you have any idea how to contact her?”
Kathy was silent for a moment. “I haven’t thought about this in a long time,” she began. “But no. I don’t know how to contact her. I haven’t heard from Daisy since the last time I saw her in Wharton.”
Tess’s heart sank. So, they were no closer to solving this mystery after all.
“And you don’t know where the family moved?” Wyatt asked.
“The family?” Kathy asked. “Oh, honey, she didn’t leave with her family. She left them. Ran off, people said. What a terrible term. But that’s what people called it. The talk was pretty ugly, I can tell you that.”
“She ran off,” Wyatt said, elongating the word. More of a statement than a question. “Do you know why?”
Kathy sighed. “This is ancient history,” she said. “But I really don’t feel good about airing my friend’s dirty laundry, even after all of these years.”
Tess and Wyatt exchanged a glance.
“It could be important,” Wyatt said. “It might even help us find her, or at least find out what happened to her.”
“I don’t know how,” Kathy said. “Listen, honey, I have to run—”
“No, Mom,” Wyatt said. He caught Tess’s eye, and she nodded. What’s one more person knowing, she thought. The word was getting out fast. “You don’t understand. Tess found a couple of portraits of Daisy at La Belle Vie during the renovation.”
“What?” Kathy said, her voice a harsh whisper. “Paintings of Daisy?”
“Yeah,” Wyatt said. “They seemed rather . . . disturbing.”
Kathy was silent for a moment. “How so?”
“One is from the point of view of someone standing on the street, looking into the windows of her house. It’s really disturbing, Mom, as though her husband was going to erupt at any minute. Is that accurate, do you know? Was Daisy’s husband that kind of man?”
More silence from Wyatt’s mother, as though she were turning the thoughts over in her mind.