“I spend too much money at the florist in the winter,” she said, noticing Gertie admiring her flowers. “I put my own in here during the season, of course, but I miss having them when it gets all rainy and gloomy in the winter.”
“They definitely brighten up a room,” Gertie agreed. “I buy some myself every couple weeks or so. It will be spring before we know it, though. I’m already getting the catalogs.”
Lottie nodded as she sat. “I’ve been working on my layouts. I like to change things up every year. Keeps it interesting. So I’m just dying to know why you wanted to visit. I know good and well you didn’t just think of me out of the blue—and I mean no offense by that—just that we’re more acquaintances than good friends, and Fortune here can’t possibly want to spend her afternoon talking flowers with a bunch of old ladies.”
“I’m horrible at gardening,” I said, “but I am trying to learn. At least enough to keep my stuff alive. I like pretty things as long as it doesn’t involve hair, makeup, or painted nails and toes.”
Lottie laughed. “Well, there’s flowers and there’s weeds. Whether they’re pretty or not depends on who’s looking at them. But the flowers usually require the most care, whereas the weeds are not only survivors but conquerors. There’s beauty in that as well.”
I smiled. “That’s an interesting way of putting it. You seem like a very observant person, Ms. Pendarvis.”
“Please, call me Lottie. And yes, I’d say I notice plenty. And the longer you’re on this earth, the more you notice and the clearer it is what it means. Which is why I found myself excited after Gertie’s call, because I’m hoping that you’re on a job and I can help you make this town a better place. So what did you want to ask me about?”
I explained the situation with the girl and told her that the girl’s appearance had shocked someone and I wanted to get her take on it. Then I asked if I could show her a picture.
“She’s alive, though, right?”
I nodded. “She was unconscious when the picture was taken. She’s a little bruised, but the image shouldn’t cause you any distress. Now she’s awake and appears to be okay.”
I pulled up the picture I’d taken in the hospital and pushed my phone across the table. She lifted the phone up and gasped as she jerked her head up to stare at me, eyes wide.
“It can’t be,” she whispered.
“You recognize her?” I asked.
She shook her head. “It can’t be her because the girl I knew would be a grown woman now, but it’s like looking back in time.” She studied the image again. “If you hadn’t told me this was a recent picture, I would have sworn on my prizewinning azaleas that this was Lara Delgado.”
She pushed the phone back over to me, and her expression shifted from astounded to sad. “You showed this to Andy Blanchet.”
“Actually, he was there when the girl was found, but how did you know?”
“I heard he was filling in for Carter, and he would have seen what I see. And assuming he explained the extent of his relationship with the girl’s mother, you would have wanted to make sure he saw what was and not what he wanted. Am I right?”
“Corroboration always helps, but he did have an old picture. And yes, the resemblance is uncanny. I hoped you could tell us about Maya and Lara.”
“You think this girl is related?”
“We don’t know, and unfortunately although she’s under the hospital’s care, she’s technically a ward of the state because she has no memory and no one has stepped forward.”
Lottie’s eyes narrowed. “Her parents haven’t been looking for her?”
“No children have been reported missing locally—at least not recently—and she doesn’t match the description of any missing children already in the database.”
Lottie shook her head. “No memory…how horrible. I can’t imagine how frightened she must be.”
“Plenty, I’m sure. And given the circumstances under which she was found, I’m worried about her safety when the hospital releases her. I know she’ll go to an approved foster parent or a group home, but those people aren’t really set up to cope with a potential kidnap situation.”
Lottie’s eye widened. “She was found in the bayou? Do you think she fell off a boat? Or jumped?”
“We have reason to believe she was hiding out in a camp, unbeknownst to the owner. But we have no idea why she was there, how she got there, or why she wound up unconscious in the bayou.”
“Lord, what an ordeal. When I think about all the things that girl might have gone through.”
“Andy Blanchet is convinced she’s related to Maya, but then, he’s got big personal stakes involved. I’ve agreed to look into it for him and for the girl’s sake, but we don’t have a lot of information on Maya and Lara. Blanchet tried to find them after they disappeared, but he was never able to dig anything up, which is strange, given the access he had to data back then.”
Lottie nodded. “I always assumed Maya wasn’t who she said she was. I had a cousin who had that look Maya wore when she knocked on my door and asked me about the rental. She was running from something. And it was clear that Lara was scared as well and had been coached not to give any information. She was the quietest child I’ve ever met.”
“Did you ever get the impression she was scared of her mother?”
“Lord no! Maya doted on that girl, and you could see how deeply they loved each other, even when they were just playing outside in the yard. Whatever was going on in their lives, Maya was trying to fix it.”
“And she never gave you any indication of where she came from?”
“No, but I don’t think she was local. I mean, not originally. Maya’s English was great, but she had a bit of an accent—which most people probably passed off as regional Creole or Cajun or just Southern drawl, but it wasn’t any of those. If I had to guess, I’d say her first language was Spanish.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, Delgado is Spanish, and even though surnames don’t mean what they used to, sometimes she turned the letter j into a h. She was quick to catch herself and not make the same mistake again, but I think sometimes she just slipped into her default. It happened more often when she was really tired. I have a cousin married to a woman from Mexico, and she does the same thing.”
“So an immigrant, maybe.”
“Or first generation born here, and she learned Spanish before English. Lara didn’t have that accent like her mother. Her speech was definitely from this area. If her last name had been Dupont or Laveau, everyone would have assumed she was Creole with that almost-black hair and darker skin tone.”
“She never gave you any indication where she was from?”
“No…but I had my suspicions.” Lottie looked over at Ida Belle and Gertie. “You ever heard of the Brethren?”
Ida Belle and Gertie glanced at each other, then nodded.
“But it’s been ten years or better since I’ve heard anyone mention them,” Ida Belle said.
“Who are the Brethren?” I asked.