The Tea Series Read online

  “Can I make you a fresh sandwich?”

  “Dear, I’ve completely lost my appetite. I’ll be just a few minutes.”

  Adeline had come out of her room earlier with a smile on her face. Kind of scary since we’d just figured out that someone had put forged information on my computer. Okay, maybe it wasn’t forged, because it seems like the doctor who put together the report was legitimate, but I can’t think of another way that a well-respected doctor would allow his name to be besmirched. Yeah, besmirched. What else would you call it?

  When I started to ask what was going on, Adeline told me that I’d been really patient and that she appreciated it, but that it was better for me to just stay out of it.

  Plausible deniability and all that.

  Sounds very Seamus-like.

  He’s all about plausible deniability. If you don’t know anything about something, no one can haul you into court or tell your boss you said something you didn’t or whatever. One of the reasons that I’m not a big fan of social media, I guess. Once you put something out there, you can never take it back.

  Well, that and the fact that I’d rather live my life than record it.

  Oh, and then there’s the whole thing that my life really isn’t all that exciting. Don’t do an eye roll! I know all the stuff that’s been happening lately isn’t boring, but I’m still boring, and, besides, I would never put the other stuff online anyway. Nobody but family would read my page or posts or whatever, so why bother?

  I called Teagan on the way home and explained everything that happened. For some reason I just want her to be a witness, however long distance, to help me remember if I forget something — although the whole memory thing is getting better — or if something goes really wrong, I want her to at least look for the body. I guess I also wanted the guy driving me home to know that someone knew what was going on and would look for me if I mysteriously disappeared.

  Cancel that thought!

  Besides, if you disappear, how can it be anything but mysteriously?

  The good news is that this time, on the way over to Adeline’s, I’d texted A.J. all about it. I had to borrow a phone from the guy from Roland’s office, but A.J. responded, so I know he knows.

  Major growth.

  How weird is it that I’m proud of the fact that I remembered to inform the guy I love, the guy who lives in the same house, but I take it as a given that I informed Teagan?

  I’m going with a little.

  It’s a little weird that I always think of Teagan in emergencies instead of A.J.

  Teagan has been saving my butt for years; A.J. hasn’t. Even since I met him, it’s been mostly Teagan with me when things blow up and I need saving.

  Maybe it’s all on Teagan.

  Maybe she has bad-guy-attracting vibes and they get all over me when I’m around her.

  Of course, if it were her vibes, she’d be the one with the broken phone, the ding in her cute little car — I’m so sad my car has a ding; I know most cars have parking lot dings, but my wee little car didn’t — and a skinned knee.

  I’m trying not to focus on my skinned knee, since it stings really bad, and my poor pants, I love those pants, and I don’t like the fashion trend of distressed clothing. Or destroyed clothing. Where you spend extra so that it looks worn out. Or torn up. Or worse, dirty. What are people thinking?

  Probably comes from all the hand-me-downs and hand-me-ups I wore as a kid. It’s not that I resent it — much — it’s that when you spend your whole life trying to think of a way to make your clothes seem new and unique when everyone has already seen them on a sister, it sticks with you. Probably why I grabbed some of the clothes from my brothers. Guys pants always fit me better because of my long legs and lack of curves.

  Where was I going with all this?

  Maybe my brain isn’t doing as well as I thought.

  Oh, yeah, Teagan thinks I’m insane because I didn’t force them to do things my way, let Kimberly walk off with my laptop, and now they are keeping me in the dark for my own protection.

  She may be right.

  TEN

  I GOT A call from Teagan first thing this morning. Problem with the ring. Turns out that the place where she intended to get her lab-grown diamonds doesn’t have pear-shaped yellow diamonds. Or doesn’t make them. Or she couldn’t find one in the size she wanted. She talks really fast when she is upset, and sometimes it’s better to just let her go and see where you end up on the other side.

  The jeweler suggested a natural diamond. She was going to go with it for the pear-shaped diamond and stick with the man-made ones for the other shapes. At least until she heard the price. Over fifty thousand dollars. For a rock.

  So the ring is being redesigned with a cushion cut, a princess cut, and a round.

  I admit it. I’m nosey. I grabbed A.J.’s laptop and went online, and although I’m not sure exactly what company she is going with, when I looked at the size and shape of the stones she is looking at, I thought they were beautiful, but that is a whole lot of money to spend on a ring.

  Even an engagement ring.

  Teagan is so much more into fashion and all that than I am that it makes sense that her ring would be over the top.

  I’ll stick with a thin gold band.

  When the time comes.

  A long time from now.

  One of Roland’s guys showed up at about ten thirty. I’m getting so paranoid that I probably wouldn’t have even answered the door, but about five minutes before he arrived, Roland called and said that he was sending a guy over.

  The guy had a new phone. A new laptop. And a little fob thing. Now, when I want to use my laptop, the stupid little fob generates a super-secret number, and I have to type that in, and then it will let me on the computer.

  Great.

  One more process.

  It is beginning to feel like I work for James Bond. I have alarms all over my house. I have the stupid key fob. What’s next?

  Don’t answer that.

  I was grumbling — quietly — to myself and fixing a cup of tea when it dawned on me.

  It was my laptop. My personal laptop. They put information on it to hurt Adeline. If they had gotten away with it, I would have been responsible for her demise.

  Okay, not really responsible, but a part of it.

  I have to be more careful. I keep thinking in terms of my life. Nobody wants to be of any kind of threat to me.

  Well, except Barry.

  And maybe a couple of Jerkface’s long-lost relatives.

  And speaking of all things Jerkface, Steve — Louis’s brother, the guy who hired me to clean up the condo when his brother Louis, the cop, friend of the completely insane Joe the cop, known to us now as Jerkface — Steve sent me that huge check, and I put it in the bank, but I haven’t figured out what to do with it yet.

  I know my mom would say to spend a little, save a lot. My dad would say to put it toward retirement; you are never too young to start doing that. I’m pretty sure Seamus started saving for retirement when he was seven and a half.

  It’s not like I’m going to earn any money off of it if I put it in the bank; interest is about as close to nothing as you can get these days.

  It’s found money. I wasn’t counting on it.

  Maybe I should invest it.

  Start a business.

  A real one. Not like writing eulogies or freezing soap bubbles. I saw a video online about frozen soap bubbles, and the guy was looking for funding for his particular formula for the perfect frozen-soap-bubble liquid and wand. I’m not sure there is a huge market for frozen soap bubbles, but they really are kind of stunning and pretty unique. Of course, I live in Florida, where a frozen soap bubble would be rare. For all I know, people in cold places have frozen soap bubbles stacked by their front door like snowballs. If people don’t keep snowballs by their front door for emergency snowball fights, I don’t want to know. That is something I’ve figured was a given in frozen climates since I was a little kid.


  One day while we were all sitting around the table, I had an idea for a business that all of us O’Flynns could do. I need to do some research. At the time, other than several of my brothers and sisters taking credit for the idea — I thought of it; they all piled on as always — we didn’t really do anything with it. It’s been a long time. I need to see if it’s still a good idea, and if it is, then how I can go about making it a business. I could start a website and sell them online.

  A little side business.

  I’ll have to talk to Teagan. See if she wants to do it with me.

  Teagan is busy at work.

  A.J. is busy at work.

  Suzi is busy at work.

  I’ve rescheduled my appointments, but I don’t have anything I’m supposed to be doing for the next few hours.

  Maeve is at work.

  Sinead is at school.

  I thought about going over to my mother’s house and cleaning so that it would be all figured out before they get home, but then it dawned on me that we are all going over this weekend so that we can get everything done for the party.

  Teagan took over the party, and she decided that we are just going to do sandwiches and stuff so I don’t have to cook or shop for that.

  Can you say bored?

  So I did it.

  I decided.

  I walked over and took the glass off the trunk.

  I must be healthy again because it didn’t even hurt my ribs.

  It about killed me last time.

  I breathed in the smelly-good-stuff.

  I love that smell.

  I took pictures of the trunk just the way it is so that when I open everything I can put it back the way it was, if I want to.

  I know that sounds crazy, but I’m tired of apologizing for the way I think and the way I feel, and if I want to put it all back, I’m going to have a picture so that I can get it right.

  When I initially made the decision to open everything, I was feeling kind of brave.

  Now that I have the lid open, I’m all weirded out.

  My phone rang and about scared me to death.

  I closed the lid before I grabbed my phone.

  A text from Teagan: Can’t talk right now. I was thinking. What if Bernie’s trunk is not so much about a mystery but about someone being a witness to her life? What if all she wanted was to leave behind something of herself that told the world she was here?

  I replied: You’re brilliant.

  Her response: Not really. Saw it in a dance movie we were watching last night.

  I was still laughing when I got back to the trunk, opened the lid, smelled in the smelly-good-stuff and leaned in to pick up the first little package.

  It was wrapped in baby-blue tissue paper with a baby-pink satin ribbon.

  My heart started racing.

  It was pounding so hard that I almost threw up.

  What the hell?

  I put the package back and closed the lid.

  You know how your vision gets all sparkly around the edges when you are about to pass out? Yep. All the way around.

  I sat on the couch so that I could put my head between my knees.

  Then it dawned on me that if I really did pass out, I’d flip forward, ass over teakettle, and smack my head right on the edge of the trunk.

  I let myself slide onto the floor and just lay there, trying to breathe rhythmically and figure out what the heck was going on.

  What could possibly be in the trunk that scared me stupid?

  I had been putting off opening everything in there.

  I keep saying that it is because I want to savor it, but let’s be real. I’m nosey, and there should be nothing on this planet that would stop me from opening those packages and seeing what is inside.

  My head was swimming.

  I could almost hear Bernie telling me something.

  Almost hear my grandmother saying something.

  Then there was a voice I didn’t really recognize. A male voice. More of a laugh than a statement.

  I swear, there are moments I think Barry kicked something lose.

  Why else would my brain be doing this to me?

  Someone pounded on my door.

  I rolled over to stand up but still felt really shaky.

  I crawled over to the door, used the knob to pull myself up, and was surprised to see Roland.

  “We got ‘em.”

  “That’s good.” I held up a finger and tried to take a deep breath. “Excuse me.” I felt myself headed for the floor.

  I was on the couch when I came to.

  “Cara, you okay? What happened? Are you hurt? You want me to call somebody?” His words sounded a little intense, but the tone was perfectly calm.

  The juxtaposition fascinated me.

  Seems I’m still not really thinking clearly.

  “Roland, I’m fine. I’m not sure. I was feeling lightheaded before you knocked, and I guess I stood up too fast.”

  “You sure that’s all it is? You feeling sick? When is the last time you ate something?”

  “No, I’m fine, really.”

  “Cara, I don’t want to be indelicate, but you don’t look all that fine.”

  “I think I’m just going to lie down for a little while. I’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you being here alone.”

  “Didn’t you say you got them? By the way, who is them? And if you did get them, doesn’t that mean that I’m okay alone?”

  “Well, your brain seems to be working just fine. I’ll tell you all about it later. I’ll tell you what. I’ll bring you in the other room. You lie down and get some rest. I’ll set the alarm and let myself out. I’m gonna call you in one hour. If you don’t answer the phone, the ambulance will be here before I can make it back. You gonna hear it?”

  “I’ll set it on high, but really I’m fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Let me help you in the other room. Where’s your phone?”

  “On the couch. Really. I’m fine.”

  “Cara, don’t make me pull rank.”

  “I don’t work for you.”

  “True, you want me to call our employer?”

  “No. I’m going. Don’t be a bully.”

  “Taking care of the people you care about is not being a bully, Cara. Now, here we go. No arguments.”

  “Did you really tell your guys that I’m stubborn?”

  “Is that what they said?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, that’s the cleaned-up version of what I said.”

  “That’s what they said.”

  ELEVEN

  I WAS LYING on the bed at my mom’s house. I had the quilt pulled up all the way to my chin. I love that duvet cover. All neon colors. Bright blue. Lime green. Hot pink. My mother thought it was the most hideous thing she had ever seen, and that made me love it all the more.

  We were a family of rules and obligations, and my mother broke all of the rules when it came to our bedrooms. We were allowed to be crazy in our room. Both décor and behavior. We’d dance to loud music. Try on weird clothes and makeup. Talk until three in the morning. Have sleepovers. Lock the boys out. Teagan even spilled nail polish once and didn’t get killed.

  I could see Teagan’s bed. She had about two hundred miles of lace all over her bed set. Mom made it for her. They got burgundy flowered fabric and off-white eyelet lace, and they went crazy. There was lace on the duvet cover, on the pillowcases, and on the curtains. They made a desk, first cutting a big piece of wood so that it would fit in the corner and then covering it with that stuff that construction guys use to cover the tape on sheet rock. Then they sanded it all down and sealed it and painted it off-white. Then they put Velcro all the way around the edges and stuck a curtain-type thing made out of the same burgundy fabric and miles of the eyelet lace. My sister was so proud of herself. She’d made a thing of beauty. At least in her eyes.

  My sister Sinead would hide under there, and we would pretend that we couldn’t fin
d her, even though we could hear her laughing. It kept her busy for hours as we would leave the room and she would run away, only to have us leave the room again so she could dive back under the desk. If we kept her busy the whole time Mom was cooking dinner, we each got a quarter. More importantly, we were allowed to walk over to Thrifty and buy an ice cream cone (my ice cream was always in a dish).

  If you had tried really hard, you couldn’t get my side of the room to clash with Teagan’s side any more than we did. Gosh, we loved our room.

  Looking back, my sister had a lot more of the room decorated than I did. I had my perfect duvet cover, and I was happy.

  Teagan got pretty much the whole closet, and I had an extra little nightstand that held a few of my clothes, and the top drawer always had a huge bag of sunflower seeds.

  My mother let me eat them in my room because I never left a mess.

  Teagan wasn’t allowed to eat anything in our room because it always ended up all over the place.

  Teagan said it was unfair.

  Mom said it was logical consequences.

  Our life lessons started early.

  I’m not sure how I knew, but I knew that Seamus was in his room. Maeve and Mom were out shopping, with Daddy driving. Liam was down at his friend Tony’s house.

  I have no idea where anyone else was or why I didn’t know.

  It was one of those dreams that you know is a dream, but you also know that you need to pay attention.

  I knew I was about to find out what all of this meant.

  The trunk.

  My fear.

  Everything.

  I willed myself to wake up, but I couldn’t.

  Bernie came into my room. She sat on the edge of my bed and ran the backs of her fingers over my cheek.