Jessica had turned stiff and pink with joy that her family was getting so much attention from her teacher. I turned bright pink to match, so embarrassed I didn’t know what to say. Cindy saved my bacon. “Aren’t crotons wonderful? I have several varieties in pots on my deck.”
“In my last house, I also had different varieties,” Emerita told her. “I was real sad to leave them, but I never imagined they’d grow here.”
“We have to take them in if we get frost, but most of the time I leave them outside,” Cindy assured her. “They just need a sheltered place.”
“What colors do you have?” The next thing I knew, my swanky daughter-in-law and Mrs. Garcia were discussing crotons like bosom buddies. Why hadn’t I ever talked plants with Cindy?
Miss Garcia bent for a private word in my ear. “You could not have pleased her more.
Mami
loves plants. Did you see the patio? She planned the whole thing and persuaded
Papi
to let her finish it for opening night, even if it is too cold to sit out there yet. She said people will remember and come back when it gets warm.”
I hoped she wouldn’t be offended, but I had to ask. “Why aren’t any Mexicans here? I’d have thought they’d be flocking in.”
Her laugh was soft and pleasant. “Mexicans like to eat late. The place should be lively for quite a while.” She looked up and drew a quick breath, but I saw no cause for alarm. It was not Charlie, but Isaac James paying his bill and standing to one side to let the MacDonalds enter.
I know it’s not polite, but I stared at Gwen Ellen. She’d cut her hair. Slightly longer than Cindy’s, it also hung straight from a side part to cup her jaw. She looked several years younger. She also looked pale and peaky. Her nervous stomach must be acting up again.
Laura and Skye were with her, but not Skell. They worked their way through the crowd, stopping for Skye to speak to somebody at almost every table. When he got to ours he gave everybody a wave. “Howdy, folks. Lookin’ great tonight.” He gave Rosa a wide smile. “Great place you all’ve got here. Hope the food’s as good as everything looks.” He clapped Joe Riddley on the shoulder. “We’ve got that property sewed up. I talked to the owner after you left.”
Gwen Ellen threw me a wan smile, but she looked like she might throw up if she opened her mouth to speak. Skye really shouldn’t have brought her out, feeling like she did.
Miss Garcia touched her mother’s arm. “We need to get back to the kitchen before Carmen burns someone’s dinner.” She turned and glided away.
Emerita slapped one cheek with her fingers and her eyes widened. “Talking about plants, I forgot the kitchen. I hope you enjoy your meals.” She bustled out at her daughter’s heels.
Across the room, Marilee Muller was giving the air little jabs, trying to attract Skye’s attention. He finally noticed and gave her a smile, but when she beckoned him over, he called, “Our table’s ready,” and steered Gwen Ellen to her chair.
Marilee’s smile stayed on her face, but her eyes grew stormy. Skye must not have given her the deal she wanted on that car.
Gwen Ellen’s chair faced mine, and what I saw worried me. Her face was pale, her eyes huge and distracted. Even though she smiled when she saw me looking at her, her expression was anxious and strained. Since Skell wasn’t with them, I wondered if he was still mad at his daddy. Their quarrels always made Gwen Ellen sick.
The MacDonalds’ food had just arrived when Nicole, from MacDonald Motors’ front desk, waltzed in on those impossibly high-soled sandals. Her coat hung open, and in honor of the occasion she’d put on a long red dress. In the glow of all the colored lights, her hair looked like spun glass.
Mr. Garcia bustled over to explain that she’d need to wait for a table, but Laura saw what was going on and went to bring her to their table. Skye beamed. Gwen Ellen gave her a wan smile of welcome. From then on, Nicole took over the conversation, talking and waving her hands like she was trying out for a part. Whatever she was saying must have been funny, because Laura and Skye laughed and even Gwen Ellen smiled—although she looked like she wished she were home.
Her face brightened, though, when Skell rushed through the door and paused to search the room with his eyes. Whoever he was looking for, it wasn’t his family, because his gaze passed them and roamed on. Then he waved Mr. Garcia aside and crossed the room.
As he stood beside his father talking and waving his arms about, all he needed was a thunderbolt or two in his fists to be the spitting image of a small Greek god. Whatever Skye said didn’t make him any happier, and he waved his arms some more. Laura watched the two of them, her eyes grave. Nicole puckered her forehead, but kept a saucy smile ready to bring out each time Skell looked her way. Gwen Ellen looked like she might throw up.
Skye motioned for Skell to get an empty chair and add it to the table. He did, but perched on the edge and kept talking. He reached for a nacho and nibbled it, but dismissed his mother’s offer of food from her plate. Something Skye said made Skell look our way, jump up, and hurry toward our table.
“Do you all know where Maynard is? I’ve been looking for him all afternoon.”
Joe Riddley was about to shake his head, so I answered. “They went to Milledgeville this afternoon, to visit Selena’s great-grandmother; then tonight they had the rehearsal at St. Philip Episcopal, and Clarinda is catering a dinner at their new place afterwards.”
“That’s Miss Marybelle Taylor’s old home?”
When I nodded, Skell looked at his watch and wiggled like he was standing on hot coals in his bare feet. “You think they’ll have gotten back to the house yet?”
I checked my own watch. It was approaching eight. “Possibly.”
He headed toward the door without saying good-bye.
Because Skell was in such a hurry, he didn’t see Miss Garcia coming his way, carrying a tray of drinks to the musicians. He hit her broadside. She gasped and staggered. Her tray clattered to the red floor tiles. The glasses fell, soaking her skirt, and shattered.
“I’m sorry.” Skell grabbed her shoulder to steady her. She twisted away and stepped back, red to her hairline. “I didn’t mean . . . I wasn’t looking . . .” Equally red, Skell couldn’t seem to finish a sentence.
“It is all right.” Mr. Garcia hurried over and caught his elbow. “She is not hurt. Rosa, fetch more drinks.” She hurried back to the kitchen.
“I’ll pay for the glasses,” Skell said, his eyes on the door that still swung behind her.
“It is nothing. Don’t worry.” Mr. Garcia snapped his fingers and a waiter glided in to clean up the mess.
“Thanks,” Skell told him. “Please tell Rosita again I’m real sorry.”
As he hurried outside, we heard the distant rumble of thunder.
5
Rosa didn’t come out of the kitchen again, so in between talking with Cindy and Jessica, I amused myself watching Marilee glower at Skye. He had no clue, of course—he’d had the good sense to sit with his back to her—but he did go over and speak to her before he paid his bill. He looked pleasant enough, but she pouted as she watched him leave. Since Joe Riddley was still eating slowly in those days, we were just starting our dessert when the MacDonalds headed home.
We were almost home ourselves when the cell phone rang in my pocketbook. I carry it so deputies can get me at all times, but in a town the size of Hopemore, the thing is more nuisance than needed, just one more weight in a pocketbook that is already too heavy.
Clarinda’s voice filled the car. “. . . over here about to cause trouble. You all need to get over here before somebody gets hurt.”
“Where are you?” I demanded. “Maynard’s?”
“Yeah. The rehearsal went long, and they just got here a few minutes ago. Now Skell’s come in sayin’ Maynard has to give back that car and buy another one. Maynard says no way; it’s the one he wants. They started out polite, but now they’re yelling. They gonna fight if somebody don’t step in. You gotta come.”
“Call the police.”
“And spoil this nice party? You know Chief Muggins. Now that he knows Maynard’s got a little money, he’d come himself instead of sending a deputy. Then he’d hang around here moochin’ himself a dinner.” Clarinda’s got less affection than I have for our police chief.
“Who’s that?” Joe Riddley growled, turning onto our gravel road.
I covered the mouthpiece. “Clarinda. Skell’s over at Maynard’s insisting that Maynard give back the car. She doesn’t want to call the police and have Charlie horning in on the party.”
Without a word, Joe Riddley turned the car around and headed back to town. Sometimes it’s hard to figure out whether Clarinda works for us or we work for her.
He took the last turn so fast I had to grab the armrest. “That was a come-over-darling turn,” I fussed. “We’re not in high school anymore, you know.”
“Can’t come over anyway, with seat belts.” He let up on the pedal a tad and peered down the street. “Where’d all these cars come from? There’s not a parking place on the dadgummed block.” He double-parked by Maynard’s green Saturn. “Drive around the block while I go in.”
I opened my door. “You drive around while I go in. Look, there’s somebody coming out in the next block. You can have the umbrella. It’s starting to rain.” Before he could object, I jumped out and started up the walk.
He rolled down the window. “Don’t you go in there without me.”
Heralded by only a few drops, the rain suddenly descended in a deluge. I had to scoot up the walk so fast, how could I pay attention to what he was saying?
I heard Skell shouting as soon as I got to the porch. “Come on, Maynard, I’ll practically
give
you any car on the lot. I’ve got stuff on the line here, man. You gotta deal. You gotta.”
Maynard’s voice was tight with fury. “I bought the car I want. You tell your other customer
he
can have any other car on the lot. He can’t have mine. Now stop spoiling my party.”
“If you don’t give me that car back, it’s gonna spoil a lot more than that. Where is it?”
I rang the bell and pounded on the door, but nobody heard me with all that racket.
“None of your business. It’s my car and my house. Now get out.”
“Come on, man, deal with me. You don’t understand. It was
promised.
”
I tried the knob. In the excitement of getting married, Maynard had forgotten his New York training and left his door unlocked. I entered what should have been a vibrant, happy home. Heart-pine floors gleamed beneath white fourteen-foot ceilings. Between them, Maynard had painted the walls a soft coral that would look great with Selena’s red hair.
The color didn’t do a thing for Maynard and Skell’s red faces.
They stood practically nose to nose in the middle of the hall while the wedding party huddled in the dining room, listening to every word. The only member I recognized was our granddaughter Bethany. Most were friends of Maynard’s from New York or nursing classmates of Selena’s. I sure hated for them to think this was how folks behaved in Hopemore.
Clarinda peered around the swinging door at the back of the hall that led to the kitchen and gave a grunt of relief when she saw me. “Un-hunh. Now you’ll have to break it up.”
Bethany gave a strangled cry, “Me-mama!” and started toward me, but I waved her back and marched over to glare up at the men.
“You all running a competition to see who can yell the loudest? Sound the meanest? I’d say right now it’s a draw. And you’d better be careful, or your faces will freeze like that, and we’ll have to get a couple of paper bags so you don’t scare the children. Is this how your mamas raised you to behave?”
They pulled apart, ashamed. Skell adjusted his tweed jacket and Maynard tugged down the sleeves of the navy suede suit he’d dressed up in for the rehearsal. He’d even tied his ponytail with a navy suede ribbon and put a small diamond stud in his ear. “You’d be two mighty handsome young men if you’d rearrange your faces.” I gave each of them a little pat.
Their truce lasted as long as it took to draw a deep breath. Then both started talking. “My ears don’t work separately,” I informed them. “I can’t listen to both of you at once.”
They took another deep breath and both started in again. This time, Skell reached out and grabbed Maynard’s shirt. Maynard had drawn back his fist to hit Skell when Joe Riddley strode across the hall. He hadn’t bothered with the umbrella, so he splashed on me as he grabbed a shoulder of each. “Hold on, there.” He forced them to step apart. “What’s going on here?”
Skell raised a furious face. “Daddy sold Maynard a car this morning that’s promised to somebody else. He’s coming tomorrow to get it, and I can’t afford to lose this customer. I’ve told Maynard I’ll make him a great deal on any other car on the lot.” He turned back to Maynard. “Or I’ll get you one just like it in a week or so, and lend you my car for your honeymoon.”
Now that was an offer. Skell drove a silver Porsche he treated like it was sterling.
“That’s a mighty good offer.” Joe Riddley looked at Maynard.
Maynard shook his head. “I’ve got the car I want. He can’t promise me that exact car in that color and condition, with so few miles on it. Can you?” He glared, breathing hard.
“Not all those things,” Skell admitted, “but as close as I can get. I can’t break my word to the other buyer. Daddy had no right to sell it. You gotta help me out of a hole here.”
Seemed to me Maynard should feel enough goodwill on the night before his wedding to give in, but I could already tell that his new car meant more to him than sheet metal, bolts, and wheels. I’d seen each of my own boys go through that phase with one particular car. They put their hands on the wheel and the car became part of them. I’ve never understood what it is about males and cars, but I knew Maynard would no more give up that BMW than he’d give up Selena.
Joe Riddley seemed to realize that, too, because he shook Skell gently while holding Maynard at arm’s length. “I think you’re going to need to explain to your other customer, son. Tell him that car has gone on its honeymoon.”