Cast into Doubt by Patricia MacDonald Page B

photos on the refrigerator, and her careful arrangements of her cupboards, Shelby suddenly felt overwhelmed by her loss. She did not belong here and she knew it. So far, Rob had been tolerant of her presence. He had even thanked her for helping him with Jeremy.
    But Shelby had no illusions about her role here. Jeremy was her grandson, but he had his father and his sister as well. And she had no one. It seemed to her now, without Chloe, that she had nothing. Rob and Jeremy would go on with their lives and, without Chloe to remind them, would forget to call her, to keep in touch. For a few more years Jeremy would welcome her attentions and then, he would have less and less time for his grandmother. Shelby felt her spirits sinking and recognized the imminent onset of another crying jag.
    You need to get out of this house, she thought. These walls are closing in.
    Do something. Get in your car and drive to Center City, she thought. Call Jen for dinner. Relax in your own space. But even as she toyed with the idea and went up to Molly’s room to put on some makeup, she felt a paralyzing inertia, and knew she wouldn’t do it.
    She was staring at herself in the mirror uncertain of how or where to escape the misery of her own heart when the doorbell rang. Shelby went to the top of the stairs and waited, hoping that whoever it was would go away. The doorbell rang again. With a sigh, Shelby descended the stairs and opened the door. She saw a complete stranger standing there. It was a woman about her own age, although this woman had a wan, deeply lined face and seemed careless of her appearance. She had graying, frizzy hair, and wore a shapeless canvas coat.
    ‘Mrs Sloan?’ the woman asked.
    Shelby stared at her suspiciously. ‘Yes.’
    ‘My name is Janice Pryor. I’m not from around here. I live in New York.’
    Shelby frowned at her, and did not reply.
    ‘I’m here about your daughter,’ Janice said.
    Shelby’s heart skidded. ‘What about her?’
    ‘Well, I wanted to talk to you about what happened to her.’
    Shelby’s heart began to hammer. ‘Were you on the same cruise with her?’ she asked.
    ‘No. But I know a lot about these cruise ship accidents and I think you may have been misled. Could I come in so we could talk about this?’
    Every warning bell went off in Shelby’s head. This woman was some kind of crackpot. She began to close the door. ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m busy.’
    ‘Please,’ said Janice Pryor. ‘Hear me out. Just hear me out. I drove all the way down here tonight to talk to you. Believe me, it’s important.’
    Shelby recoiled from the woman’s earnest, anxious gaze. ‘Well, that’s too bad. I’m sorry you wasted your time.’ Before Shelby could shut the door in her face the woman blurted out, ‘My daughter disappeared on a Sunset Cruise ship too.’
    Shelby gripped the doorknob and stared at the woman standing on the step.
    Janice Pryor gazed into Shelby’s wide eyes, and took in her stunned expression with a satisfied nod. ‘May I come in?’ she asked.

TEN
    ‘ T hese quilts are beautiful,’ Janice Pryor said, as she settled herself into a chair in the living room, and gazed at the colorful array of patterned needlework that hung from horizontal poles, decorating the walls.
    Shelby was still standing by the door. ‘My daughter made them.’
    Janice looked sympathetically at Shelby. ‘She had a wonderful eye for color.’
    Shelby gazed at the quilts. The pain of her loss was a crushing weight on her heart.
    ‘Do you think I could have something to drink?’ Janice asked. ‘A soft drink maybe?’
    ‘There’s herbal iced tea,’ said Shelby.
    ‘That would be fine,’ said Janice.
    Shelby went out into the kitchen and prepared a glass of tea while her mind raced. Now that she had let Janice Pryor into the house, she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake. This was a complete stranger who must have found Shelby through news reports. It could be that she was