That sounded ominous. Her mother looked ominous. Cate felt an automatic tightening in her stomach. "Is something wrong, Mom? Is Dad sick? Are you sick? Oh, my God, you aren't gelling divorced, are you?"
Sheila stared at her, eyes wide, then in tones of awe said, "Good God, I've raised a pessimist."
Gate's cheeks flushed. 'Tin not a pessimist, but the way you said it, as if something is wrong - "
"Nothing's wrong, I promise." She took a sip of coffee. "It's just that your dad and I would like to have the boys come home with me for a visit, since he hasn't seen them since Christmas. They're old enough now, don't you think?"
Played. Cate rolled her eyes. "You did that on purpose."
"Did what on purpose?"
"Made me think something terrible was wrong" - she held up her hand to halt her mother's protest - "not by what you said but how you said it, and your expression. Then, by comparison to all the horrible things I thought, the idea of the boys going home with you would seem minor. Harmless. Mom, I know how you operate. I took notes, because I intend to use the same tactics on the boys."
She took a breath. "It wasn't necessary. I'm not categorically against the idea. I'm not crazy about it, either, but I'll think about it. How long did you have in mind?"
"Two weeks seems reasonable, considering how difficult the trip is."
Let the negotiations begin. Cate recognized that ploy, too. Sheila probably wanted a week with the boys, and to make sure she got it. she was asking for twice that. It might teach her a lesson if Cate sweetly agreed to the two weeks. Fourteen days of unrelieved supervision of rowdy four-year-old twins could break even the strongest person.
"I'll think about it," she said, refusing to be drawn into a discussion about the length of the visit when she hadn't yet agreed to let the boys go. If she didn't stay on her toes, Sheila would have her so tied up in the details that the boys would be in Seattle before Cate realized she hadn't said "yes."
"Your dad and I will pay for their plane tickets, of course," Sheila continued persuasively.
"I'll think about it," Cate repeated.
"You need a little break, yourself. Taking care of this place and those two little hooligans doesn't give you much time for yourself. You could get your hair cut, get a manicure, pedicure..."
"I'll think about it."
Sheila huffed out a breath. "We really need to iron out the details."
"There'll be plenty of time for that later... if I decide they can go. You might as well give up, because I'm not committing myself until I think about it for more than the two minutes you've given me." Just for a second, though, she thought longingly of the hair salon in Seattle she had used. It had been so long since she'd had her hair done that she no longer had a recognizable style. Today, her wavy brown hair was simply pulled back and secured by a largetortoiseshell clip at the back of her neck. Her fingernails were short and bare, because that was the most practical way to keep them given how much her hands were in dough, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd painted her toenails. Just about the only extra grooming she had time for these days was keeping her legs and underarms shaved, which she did because - well, just because. Besides, all it took was an an extra three minutes in the shower.
The boys were so excited about their Muni visiting that they came thundering downstairs in their pajamas a full half hour before their usual time. Sherry had just arrived, three customers followed her in, and Cate was glad to hand the boys off to her mother to entertain and feed them their breakfast. Her own breakfast was one of the muffins, which she snatched a bite of whenever she could.
It was a beautiful day, the early September air crisp and clear, and it seemed as if almost even1 inhabitant of Trail Stop came in that morning. Even Neenah Dase, a former nun who, for reasons of her own, had left her order and now owned and operated the small feed store - which meant she was Mr. Harris's landlady, since he lived in the tiny apartment over the store - came in for a muffin. Neenah was a quiet, self-possessed woman in her mid-forties and one of Gate's favorite people in Trail Stop. They didn't often have a chance to chat, and this morning was no different, because they each had a business to run. With a wave and a cheerful hello, Neenah was out the door and gone.
What with one thing and another, it was after one o'clock before Cate had a chance to get upstairs. Her mother was still keeping the boys occupied so Cate could get things ready for the guests coming in that afternoon. Mr. Layton still had neither returned nor called, and she was now as much worried as she was annoyed. Had he had an accident? The gravel road could be treacherous if an inexperienced driver took one of the mountain curves too fast. He had been gone for over twenty-four hours without word.
She made a swift decision and went to her room, where she called the county sheriff's department and after a brief hold was transferred to an investigator. "This is Cate Nightingale in Trail Stop. I own the bed-and-breakfast here, and one of my guests left yesterday morning and hasn't returned. All of his things are still here."
"Do you know where he was going?" the county investigator asked.
"No." She thought back to the morning before, when she'd seen him step back from the dining room door. "He left sometime between eight and ten. I didn't talk to him. But he hasn't called and he was supposed to check out yesterday morning. I'm afraid he might have had an accident."
The investigator took down Mr. Layton's name and description, and when he asked for the car's license plate number, Cate went downstairs to her office to pull the paperwork. The investigator, like her, thought Mr. Lay ton might have had an accident and said he would first check the local hospital and would get back to her later that afternoon.