Page 47 of Paper Ghosts

“Actually,” Tug said, “she’s done very well for herself.”

Bailey hated the twinge that caused. She wanted to have a reason for him to say that about her, too. She nodded to the pan to change the subject. “What are you making?”

“Lunch! It’s called sombrero pie.” He picked up an old, foxed recipe card from the counter and handed it to her. “Look at the picture. You peel back the pastry top to make it look like a little sombrero. Clever, right? Do you want to help?”

“Would it be helping, or enabling, at this point?”

“You sound like your grandmother.”

By the time they finished lunch—Mim had only wanted soup again—there wasn’t enough time to bleach her hair before tea, so at the designated time, Bailey went to the sunroom, still in her teddy bear hat. She didn’t want to do this, sit down with Mim over tea like they were revisiting a good memory, but she’d put a lot of work into trying to become a better person. And a better person wouldn’t ignore the last request of a dying woman.

“Ready?”

Bailey spun to see Tug behind her in the hallway, carrying a tray with Mim’s teapot and cups. “I thought she invited only me.”

“She did. But it’s difficult for her to make tea for herself anymore. She finally relented and let me do it. I’ll need some help with the door.”

Bailey knocked once and turned the knob to let Tug enter first.

He walked in and placed the tray on the coffee table in front of Mim, who was sitting on the cabbage-rose settee, the umbrella propped beside her. Autumn sunlight was falling on her in such a cinematic way that Bailey was reminded of the first time she’d ever seen her, how starstruck she’d been.

“Since you’re so fond of the obvious,” Tug said good-naturedly, “here is your tea.” He poured two sugared cups and handed one to Mim. Then he handed the other cup to Bailey, who was just standing there stupidly. “And here is your granddaughter.”

“Nice touch,” Mim said, “showing me which is which.”

“I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself.”

As soon as he walked out, closing the door behind him, Mim said, “Please have a seat.”

Bailey sat in one of the magpie chairs Mim’s grandmother had embroidered, which felt strange to her now, like sitting in the lap of a spirit. “Why the theatrics with the note under the cloche?”

Mim smiled. “I did that for Tug. He has so little to amuse him here. He’d rather be in Chapel Hill.”

She didn’t want to jump on that, but if he had confided in anyone, the only likely person was Mim. “He said he’s seeing someone there.”

“So I gather, but he hasn’t said anything to me yet. He’ll tell you everything in his own time. And when he does, he’s going to assure you that it will never change his love for you. What he’ll need to hear is that it will never change your love for him.”

Bailey had to fight to close a sudden fissure of anger that broke open. “Nothing would change my love for him. I left because you threatened to tell him what happened that night, and I didn’t want him hurt. Or did you forget that part?”

“I remember everything about that night,” Mim said into her cup before she took a sip.

“I think we just need to get this over with. Do you want me to say I’m sorry again? I’m sorry. Do you want me to forgive you? I forgave you a long time ago.”

“That’s not what this is about. You have nothing to be sorry about, Bailey. And I know I don’t deserve forgiveness.”

“Then what is this about? You made it clear you didn’t want me here ever again. And now I don’t want to be here.”

“I know this is hard for you, and I’m sorry. But I have a story you need to hear.”

Had Mim just apologized for something? That was unprecedented. “Does it have something to do with Clutch? Because I think that’s the story I need to hear, the one that might actually give me a measure of peace.” She had done many, many Google searches on him over the years, and there were no hits. Mim had paid him off that night. Maybe she was still paying him to keep a low profile. Bailey had no idea what to expect once Mim was gone.

“It isn’t about Clutch.” She thought for a moment. “Not directly.”

“Are you going to tell Daddy about him?”

Mim shook her head. “I’ve never said a word, and I never will.”

“Are you still paying him off?”