Lies That Bind by Maggie Barbieri Page A

puzzled look on Heather’s face as she drove away. The jacket was on a hook behind the front door, the place where Maeve had hung it yesterday when she found it in a heap on the powder room floor. Never would Heather think to look where the jacket should be, and Maeve envisioned the feverish hunt that would ensue as she drove the short distance to the local strip mall and the donation center.
    Her headache was getting better and a small lump on the back of her head was the only thing to remind her that someone had taken the time to break into the store and assault her. Maybe with time, she’d feel more secure and not feel like she had to keep the back door locked all the time, opening it only when she knew who was back there.
    Lee Costello was a regular morning customer at The Comfort Zone and the manager of the Goodwill store. She was standing behind the counter, cataloging some muffin tins and a host of assorted unmatched wineglasses when Maeve entered.
    “Maeve! Great to see you outside of your store,” Lee said, and seeing the box in Maeve’s hand, ascertained the reason for her visit. “I’m so sorry about your father’s passing,” she said.
    “Thank you, Lee,” Maeve said, and placed the box on the counter. “I have seventeen pairs of khakis, all size 30/34, and a couple of shirts that are practically new. Can you use them?”
    “It’s Christmastime,” Lee said. “We have a lot of customers looking for gently used dress clothes this time of year.” She looked through the box, examining the clothes. “Perfect, Maeve. Thank you.” She looked up at Maeve and smiled. “They will go to good use. This blazer in particular.”
    As she walked to her car, Maeve expected to feel sadness, the contents of her father’s life rapidly being disbursed or discarded, but she felt happy. His neatly pressed khakis would go to a good home, or several, as would the other things. Lee would be happy to see there was more where those things had come from; Maeve just had to find the time to go through the rest of his belongings.
    Baby steps, she thought.
    She pointed the key fob at the car and unlocked the doors. Behind her, she heard her name. Lee ran toward her, the blazer in her hand, her short legs propelling her across the lot. She was out of breath by the time she reached Maeve, her sprint from the store having given her some color in her cheeks. Several years of a daily chocolate-chip scone and a full-fat latte wasn’t a breakfast routine that lent itself to spontaneous jogs.
    “Maeve, I’m glad I caught up to you.” Lee held an envelope in her hand. “I found this in the jacket pocket and wanted to make sure I got it back to you. We go through all of our items to make sure that nothing has been left behind.”
    Maeve took the envelope. “Thanks, Lee. This was hiding in one of my closets so I didn’t have a chance to check the pockets.”
    “I don’t know what’s in there but wanted to make sure I got it to you. Thanks, again,” she said, walking away.
    Maeve got into the car and held the envelope in her hands. It was unmarked, the contents stiff.
    Photographs.
    It was only after she watched Lee enter the store, her mind on the complimentary coffee and scone she would offer her for her kindness the next time she saw her, that she opened the envelope. In it were three photos she had never seen, all black-and-white, all dog-eared and creased, and one holy card, the Blessed Mother surrounded by illuminated stars. She remembered bringing that card home in the second grade right after the May crowning when all of the little girls in her parochial school wore white dresses and processed to the statue of Mary in the church, surrounding her with flowers. One special, chosen girl placed a crown on her head; Maeve had never been holy enough for that task, her socks always falling down, her mouth a little too sharp at times. According to Sister Beatrice, she was “sassy,” and her father should be aware of that.