She shook her head. “I feel three
hundred
and thirty-five. Come on into the dining room. Everything’s ready.”
“The dining room? We’re mighty fancy.” Generally we ate on their sunporch.
“I cannot bear to look at what all this water is doing to my yard.”
Tansy had set the dining-room table with soft yellow place mats, matching napkins, and china I hadn’t seen before—white porcelain covered with pastel butterflies. “More dishes? Is this your sixth or seventh set?” I teased. Gwen Ellen liked china better than anybody I knew.
She picked up a cup and examined the pattern listlessly. “We got them last fall when Skye had to go to Germany for some meeting. I went along, and we stopped in France for a few days.” Her finger traced a blue and yellow butterfly on her cup. “We went to see the china factories in Limoges, and I got them because they were cheerful.” Her voice trailed off into a realm where nothing would ever be cheerful again.
“I brought you something that smells good.” I reached into a carrier and brought out a delft pot of blue and white hyacinths.
“Aren’t you sweet?” She removed a silk floral arrangement from the middle of the table and set the hyacinths in its place. Their fragrance floated through the room.
As we took our places, she at one end and me beside her, I saw her look at the big armchair at the far end where Skye used to sit. Her eyes teared up, and she pressed her napkin to her lips. “Would you say the blessing, please, MacLaren?”
As soon as I’d finished, I asked about what I knew was on her mind. “Any news from Skell?”
She clenched her left fist beside her plate until her knuckles turned white. “Not a word since he called on his cell phone Saturday night. The call was dropped, and Laura can’t get him to answer since—except once when she thought he picked up, but then he hung up immediately. That wasn’t Skell, MacLaren. He’d never do that if he saw our number on his screen. I think somebody has him and won’t let him come home. I’ve called the police at least twice each day, but they keep saying they can’t even start to look for him until after two today—forty-eight hours since he was last seen.” She brushed her hair back from her cheek. “I truly think if I don’t hear something soon, I will go stark raving mad.”
Lunch didn’t get much cheerier than that. We ate thick slices of honey-baked ham, potato salad, squares of cranberry congealed salad with a sour cream topping, and an asparagus and artichoke casserole, but every one of those cooks had wasted her efforts, for all either one of us tasted. They could have brought cardboard and Styrofoam.
All during the meal the rain fell in sheets. While we couldn’t see it through the thick sheers at her long windows, we could hear it like a regular drumbeat. So, as we drank our tea in butterfly cups, we talked about what all that wetness was doing to the azalea and dogwood buds, whether we were getting too much or just enough rain for the spring bulbs, and how soon it was likely the ground would be ready to work again. “I hate not getting outside a little bit each day. My garden is going to be so late,” she lamented.
“Marilee Muller needs to find us some sunshine,” I joked. “It’s too bad she can’t get some out of the same bottle she uses on her hair.”
I’ll never know what Gwen Ellen was going to say, because she swallowed a bite of biscuit wrong and choked. By the time I’d pounded her on the back and she’d run to the kitchen for a drink of water, we were both tired of talking weather, so we discussed her new haircut and her new hairdresser—the same one Cindy had recommended to me.
“I hate to admit it,” I said, glimpsing my same old hairdo in the mirror over the mahogany buffet, “but I may want to try her myself. You and Cindy both look more like New York than Hopemore.”
Gwen Ellen shoved back her hair and gave me a faint smile. “I wonder what Laura’s hair is going to look like. That little girl from the office says she has a cosmetology degree, but she doesn’t look old enough to be out of high school.”
“Isn’t it awful how young people are getting? I went to the doctor last week, and they gave me his new assistant, Dr. Jorgensen. She looks younger than Bethany, and it felt real funny taking off my clothes in front of a child.”
I’d hoped that would make Gwen Ellen at least smile, and maybe laugh. Instead, she clouded up again. “We never got to Norway. We were planning to go this spring. Oh, MacLaren, I never
imagined
having to live without him. The rest of my life seems so
long.
”
I reached for her hand. Its chill made me realize how much effort she was putting into acting halfway normal.
“We loved each other so much,” she whispered. “It was so special, while it lasted.”
“We who have loved and been loved are very fortunate in this world,” I agreed. But the MacDonald house seemed much bigger and chillier without Skye’s booming laugh and wide, happy smile. The idea flitted through my mind that I’d like to get into a smaller place before Joe Riddley or I lost the other. I loved our house, but I wouldn’t want to live in it without him.
Gwen Ellen put down her fork and stared toward the window sheers as if she had x-ray vision and could see gray dismals outside. “Can I tell you something, MacLaren? I don’t think I can get through the viewing. Having to stand beside Skye while people talk about him, looking down and seeing him lying there—” Her voice broke. “And I know my stomach is going to act up. I’ll probably vomit all over everybody.”
“Viewings are a barbarous custom, sweetheart, but if our mothers got through them, we can, too. You’re gonna do fine.”
“I doubt it. And to make it worse, his mother insists on an open casket before the service. They’ve got out-of-town friends who can’t come for the viewing and stay overnight, and she wants them to be able to say good-bye.” She pressed her napkin to her mouth and spoke through tears. “Oh, MacLaren, I don’t want to have to look at Skye in front of everybody, or watch them shut him up and put him in a hole in the ground. I’ll scream and wail and make a fool of myself. And if Skell isn’t here, I simply won’t hold the service. We can’t bury his daddy until he gets home.”
I could not tell her that Skell would endanger his freedom by coming home, so I said, instead, “You are not going to make a fool of yourself. You just cry and wail all you like—anything you do will be fine, unless you fling yourself on Skye and have a screaming hissie fit, and I cannot imagine you doing such a thing. Dreading it is probably worse than the thing itself will be.”
I sure hoped I was right. It seemed to comfort Gwen Ellen, because she took a few deep breaths and went back to talking about her plants and all that rain.
“We’ve been promised sunshine for tomorrow,” I told her. “If we don’t get it, we can kill Marilee Muller.” Now why did I say that? Was it any way to talk to a woman whose husband just got murdered? Gwen Ellen turned so white I thought she’d faint, and rose to take our plates to the kitchen.
I sat glued to my chair by mortification. “I’m so sorry, honey,” I called after her, but that wasn’t anywhere near enough.
While she was getting our dessert, I thought of several new topics to discuss. She must have been doing the same thing, because we didn’t mention Skye again.
We were finishing slices of pecan pie when we heard feet clomping down the garage stairs. “Mama? Mama. Skell called. He left a message on my cell phone this morning around ten. I just found it when I turned on the phone.” Laura came to a dead stop in the kitchen just out of our range of view.
I was so busy trying to slow down my heartbeat I nearly didn’t recognize Nicole’s voice.
“Go on,” she commanded. “Go show them.”
Laura entered the dining room and stood, pink and shy, waiting to see what we would say.
I’m not sure I’d have recognized her if I’d met her on the street. Nicole had cut her hair very short and layered it to fall in shining natural waves to the nape of her neck. Bangs softened her high forehead, and the way the hairline followed her ears, I saw for the first time how lovely they were. Her neck was a surprise, too—it rose long and graceful from her navy turtleneck sweater. She looked downright pretty and even sophisticated. Pounds lighter, too.
“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Nicole asked with a grand wave of one hand and a jig that one shouldn’t do in mixed company in a skirt that short.
“Gorgeous,” I agreed at once.
Gwen Ellen had laid down her fork and pushed back her chair. “What did Skell say?” That was one of few times in her life that I could have gladly shaken her.
The light went out of Laura’s face. “He said he’s fine, he’ll be home tomorrow, and he”—she paused—“he hopes you aren’t mad at him.”
“But where is he?” Maybe Gwen Ellen didn’t mean to accuse Laura of keeping that to herself, but it came out that way.
Laura pinched her lips together. Anybody could tell she was trying to decide what to say.
“Call him back,” Gwen Ellen commanded. “All you have to do is push redial.”
She didn’t mean to insult her, but Laura’s generation was the one who taught the rest of us how to use things like cell phones and computers. When Skell went to college, Skye used to grumble, “Nobody should let both their children go away from home at once. Who’s going to show us how to make all these gadgets work?” No wonder Laura forgot her manners enough to snap out the truth. “I did that, Mama. He called from a public phone at Disney World. He’s not there now.”
“Disney World? With his daddy dead?” Gwen Ellen pressed her hand to her mouth and tried to absorb the shock.
Seeing the distress on Laura’s face, I reminded Gwen Ellen, “He doesn’t know Skye’s dead.” I pushed back my chair. “Come to the kitchen a minute, Laura.” When we got there, I asked quietly, “What exactly did Skell say?”
She kept her voice low, too. “He said he forgot and left his cell phone in the rest stop bathroom Saturday night after our call was dropped—that’s the third one he’s lost this year—”
“You can deal with that later. What else did he say?”
She heaved a big sigh, fished in her pocket, and held out a phone so small I couldn’t find anyplace to speak or listen. She flipped it open and pushed buttons. “Here. Listen for yourself. Then tell me if you think we need to page him to come straight home.”
Skell sounded as cocky and irresponsible as ever. “Hi, Sissy. I’m in Orlando. Sorry not to call sooner, but I forgot my cell phone in the men’s room at an interstate rest stop.” He gave a snort of laughter. “You’re gonna have to dock my pay again. But listen, I didn’t just hare down here for the fun of it. I had something to take care of, and it was real important. I’ll tell you about it when I get home. Since I’m here, I might as well see Disney World. I’d call you at the dealership, but I don’t want Daddy to know where I am yet. Is he furious I took the money? I’ll explain when I get there. Calm him down for me, okay?”
I handed her the phone to turn off. “That explains who robbed the safe.”
“And he doesn’t even know Daddy is dead.” I saw relief in her eyes, then embarrassment that she’d felt relieved. “You never really thought he killed Daddy, did you?”
She had me between a cocklebur and thistle. I couldn’t tell her a lie, and I couldn’t tell her the truth. I settled for, “The police have arrested Mr. Garcia, but their case against him doesn’t look real strong to me. If they’re smart, they’re going to be looking for other suspects, as well.”
“Then I’d better save Skell’s message. Obviously he doesn’t even know Daddy’s dead.”
“Any good prosecutor would point out that if Skell killed his daddy, he’s clever enough to make that call to try and muddy the waters.”
She frowned. “What should I do?”
“Why don’t you let Skell handle his own mess for a change? He’s twenty-three years old. You come back in the dining room and let your mother properly admire your hair.”
I felt so sick, though, that I could hardly walk behind her to the dining room. Gwen Ellen and even Laura wanted Skell home, but my stomach felt like it does whenever Joe Riddley watches
High Noon
and Gary Cooper starts walking down that seemingly deserted street.
It took all the meager acting skills I possess to tell Gwen Ellen, “Skell ran down to Orlando on business, and because he worked this weekend, he figured he deserved a day at Disney World. Since he’s coming home tomorrow anyway, I don’t think you need to bother tracking him down. Meanwhile, don’t you love Laura’s hair?”
Gwen Ellen wasn’t finished talking about Skell. “You’re sure we don’t need to call him? Does he even know about his daddy?”
“No, but what difference does one more day make? The funeral isn’t until the end of the week, is it?”
“Saturday.” She gave me a wan smile. “He might as well have one more happy day.”
Finally she could turn her attention back to where it was badly needed. She considered Laura critically, then nodded. “Your hair is lovely. I really like it.”
Laura reached both hands up and clutched her neck just below her ears. “I feel naked.”
“You don’t look naked; you look beautiful,” I told her. “Enjoy it.”
Nicole couldn’t stand still. “Wait until folks at work see you.” She giggled again.
A soft pink rose from Laura’s throat to cover her cheeks. “I doubt folks at work will even notice.” Her voice was gruff, but I could tell she was pleased.
She turned back to the kitchen. “Can we get ourselves something to eat?”
“Whatever you can find,” her mother told her.
We heard them rattling plates and silverware. Nicole was prattling on about clothes now. “You need some bright things. You never wear anything but gray and navy, but you’d be really stunning in red, or kelly green, or peacock blue. I’ll bet turquoise would bring out the color of your eyes. Yellow, too—but not pale yellow. The color of egg yolks, daisy centers, and sunshine.”
Gwen Ellen gave me a wan smile. “I have said the very same thing to Laura a hundred times, and it hasn’t made one speck of difference. She’d just go shopping and come back with another blue blazer or another gray skirt. Maybe this child is going to be good for her.”