by Beth Duke
“Of course he does, Chet.” Violet’s mind raced through all the horror Tolly had promised would rain down on her if anyone ever found out. She was putting her daughter at risk. “Look, it wasn’t my husband. It was my friend’s husband. I tried to intervene when he hit her and he attacked me. Tolly and I are not pressing charges because Genny doesn’t want anyone to know...”
Chet’s eyes were full of pain. “All right, Violet. What’s his name?” He was still clutching the steering wheel, twitching his thumbs up and down.
“I can’t tell you. Let it go, Chet.”
“Use that pretty book to write some fiction, Violet. You’re very good at it.” He started the truck and rolled away slowly without another look.
twenty-nine
RONNI
Deanna accompanied me to Mel’s office in Birmingham to bid her cousin goodbye before returning to Florida. Her eyes grew round as we entered the elegant lobby, just as mine had months ago.
Laura came from behind her desk, hand extended. “So you’re Mr. Sobel’s Cousin Deanna! It’s so nice to meet you.” She turned to me. “Ronni, you look wonderful. I’m guessing you’ve met a charming prince, if not Prince Charming. Am I right? No one glows like that without romance in her life.” She waved her hand from my head to my toes. “You are transformed.”
I was glad my size six Tahari suit, half-off at Nordstrom, had the desired effect on elegant Laura. I resisted the urge to kick out my cute Kate Spade pumps with their tiny bows for inspection. “Well, a lot has happened since I met you, Laura. I’ve learned I can write a book. I’m much more comfortable in my skin these days. And yes, there is someone special.” There was someone special. You’ll be better off when you admit it to yourself, Ronni. No one just forgets to mention an ex-wife and an affair. And he’s gone, anyway.
I hadn’t even told Deanna. I didn’t want to ruin her glowing admiration for Rick, and my stomach wrenched up every time I thought of Victoria’s phone call. Rick was still avoiding me, and I sure wasn’t trying to find him.
“Do either of you want to freshen up or have a drink of water before you see Mr. Sobel?”
I glanced at Deanna, who was looking overwhelmed. She shook her head gently from side to side.
“We’re ready to go in when he’s available,” I told her.
“Follow me, then.” Laura’s Christian Louboutin sandals flashed red at us as we walked behind.
Mel stood to greet us and offered Deanna a brief hug. His eyes were locked on mine as we seated ourselves across from his desk. I nodded, and he slid a piece of paper to me.
“This is for you,” I said, handing it to Deanna. “Thank you for letting me see a glimpse of Violet again. I loved her so much.”
Deanna smiled and nodded at me, looking to Mel as though waiting for him to continue.
“Look at it, Deanna,” I prompted.
“Oh,” she said. “Just a minute.” Deanna dug in her purse and retrieved a pair of wire reading glasses. She held out the paper and I watched her scan down to the detachable cashier’s check made out to her for one hundred thousand dollars. I heard her inhale sharply. “I...I don’t understand.”
Mel answered her, “Your mother’s will stipulated this amount would go to Ronni upon completion of her book. Ronni has decided you should have it.”
Deanna’s eyes were wide. “Ronni, this is yours. You earned it. You worked hard for a year. You risked your job.”
“Well,” I said, “if my manuscript’s any good, I’ll be paid by the publisher. In the meantime, this money could be helping Violet’s daughter, granddaughter, and great-grandchildren. I can’t imagine any better use for it.”
Mel held my gaze. I knew Jennifer had told him I didn’t have enough of a book to get into print. It didn’t matter. I was doing what Violet would’ve wanted.
thirty
VIOLET
The beautiful journal, the color of violets, lay unused in a vanity drawer under a pile of innocuous paperwork. She hadn’t written a word in the past two weeks; hadn’t the heart or the concentration. Tolly came and went, oblivious to her moods. He pecked her cheek perfunctorily every morning before he left the house. He was sleeping in a guest bedroom.
She drove to a pay phone one afternoon, armed with enough dimes to stay for hours. Violet managed to locate a private detective in Tampa with an operator’s help. His name was Benny Carlock, and he’d promised to have a report when she called again at the end of the month.
“I will do my very best, Mrs. Thompson, but please understand the adoption process in Florida protects the minor child first and foremost.” Violet listened to him light a cigarette and waited impatiently for something she hadn’t already heard over and over. “If you have the resources to cover my time, though, I may be able to...shall we say...open a few locked doors?”
“I understand, Mr. Carlock. How much money will you need to get started?”
“For the next two weeks, I’ll need eight hundred dollars.”
Violet nearly dropped the phone. She would have to use some of the money she’d saved to travel. “All right, Mr. Carlock, I’ll wire it today. I expect answers the next time we speak. Thank you.”
She’d been counting the days, fantasizing about the news he’d give her. She tried to keep her expectations reasonable; tried to tell herself that simply knowing Alicia was well and happy would keep her going. Maybe Mr. Carlock could provide her photographs of her daughter. That, alone, would be worth eight hundred dollars and more.
Violet had not heard another word from Chet since his visit. She suspected he was disgusted with her, either for lying or for allowing herself to be abused by her husband. She could relate to that; she was disgusted with herself.
Most days she found plenty of soul-crushing housework to fill the time and provide distraction until she could expect Mr. Carlock’s report. She was well enough now to go out in public, but didn’t feel like lunching with her friends or shopping. Either one required too much acting skill.
Violet had arrayed her late mother-in-law’s silver all over the dining room table to polish. She despised every piece and wondered why anyone would choose to own so much troublesome metal. She was halfway through some unknown variety of fork when the doorbell rang. Two uniformed officers stood there, hats in hand.
“Mrs. Thompson?”
“Yes?” Violet wished they would sell her their fundraiser tickets and move on. She had two hours until Tolly came home and tried to resist the twin temptations of bourbon and wife beating. She sighed and pushed a lock of hair into place.
“Mrs. Thompson, may we come inside for a moment to talk with you?”
“Yes, officer, of course.” Violet swung the door wide and wondered what she could offer them to eat and drink. She led them to an informal den and sat on the sofa, indicating the chairs opposite her.
“Ma’am, there’s been an accident and I’m afraid your husband’s been injured,” the older one said. She noticed he had a tiny smear of mustard in his white mustache. “Mrs. Thompson?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. Well, is he all right? Is he in the hospital? I don’t understand.”
“He’s at the hospital, ma’am.” The policeman turned his gaze to his partner, who cleared his throat and added, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Thompson, but we have to tell you he’s deceased.” Both men looked so uncomfortable Violet felt sorry for them.
“There must be some mistake,” she said. “My husband works in that hospital. They would have called me right away. I believe you have the wrong Mrs. Thompson.” She smiled sweetly and waited for them to comprehend.
“Yes, ma’am, we know Dr. Thompson works there.” White Mustache took over. “Dr. Thompson was coming down the stairs from the roof, ma’am. People at the hospital told us he liked to go up there for a cigarette sometimes.”
Violet felt ice forming in her veins. Suddenly she knew what they were going to say next, and she couldn’t let them. She tried to stand, but the younger policeman gently eased her back down.
White Mustache glanced at his partner before continuing. “It appears Dr. Thompson was drinking, ma’am. He fell down a flight of concrete stairs. There was nothing they could do to help him.”
“He fell?” That was all she could say.
“We’re going to take you to the hospital, Mrs. Thompson, all right?”
“Yes, let me get my purse.” Violet’s head swam. It was hard to see or hear anything. The younger officer took her arm and helped her up.
“Mrs. Thompson? Can you tell us if you’ve been home all day?”
“Yes, I haven’t left the house.”
“Did anyone visit you?”
“No, I’ve been alone. Wait, you don’t...”
“No, of course not, ma’am. We have to ask.” White Mustache looked apologetic. “I’m so sorry we had to tell you this. We’ll wait here while you get your purse.”
thirty-one
RONNI
Kait’s eyes were wide as a horse’s in a barn fire. “She left you all that money, and you gave it away. She set you up to write a book about her, and you’ve given up because it’s too short? You exasperate me, Ronni. How many people get a chance like that?”
“There’s nothing else to add, Kait,” I said. “I’m out of information about Violet’s life. I don’t have an interesting ending. It’s a mess. A mess I worked on for a year. I’m over it.” I shrugged and turned to chart meds.
“Wait a minute,” she grabbed my arm, “you’re missing the obvious solution, Ronni. This journey has been yours as much as Violet’s. You’re not the same woman I knew a year ago, and it’s not only because of Rick.”
My stomach clenched at the mention of his name. I couldn’t bring myself to open up to Kait or anyone about my situation with Rick.
“What do you mean, Kait? I should write a book about the life and times of Veronica Jean Johnson? For the New York Times Best Boring List?”
She bit her lower lip in excitement, eyes blazing. “You could alternate chapters between your life and Violet’s. You’d start where you found out the way her will was set up. I mean, you’re the only person I’ve ever heard of in that situation, Ronni. It’s a neat story.”
I considered for a minute. “It does have possibilities.” I shook my head. “The problem is, even if I do that I don’t know enough about Violet to fill out her part. No one who’s familiar with her past is still around to help me. Except Herb, maybe, and I can’t interview him for obvious reasons.”
“Are you sure there’s no one else?” Kait studied my face like a kindergarten teacher coaxing the next letter in the alphabet.
“I need someone who knew Chet. Certainly not his wife.” I watched Audrey Ledbetter grab the hand of our newest resident, the tiny and taciturn Mrs. Gates. She looked like a terrified urchin being dragged down the hall by Audrey’s wheelchair, a bedraggled five-year-old in a much older body. A lot, I realized, like Violet’s description of a young CeeCee Wilson. “Oh my gosh. His sister might be able to help, if I can find her. Have I told you lately that I love you?” I hugged Kait and turned back to work, just in time to avoid Donna’s hourly spy stroll down the hall.
It was depressing to see the dark, rain-streaked windows when I got home that night. Deanna had given me a reason to look forward to the end of the day, and Halle was a terrible conversationalist. I hoisted the bag of groceries from the passenger seat and prepared to dodge raindrops, then I lost my grip on the bag and spilled its contents all over the pavement. I scrambled to gather bruised apples and soggy ice cream sandwiches. I had to get on my knees in an inch-deep puddle to retrieve a can of soup under the car. I stayed there, unable to summon the energy to laugh at myself or cry. I lifted my face to the ink-swirled sky and muttered, “I give up.”
“Don’t do that just yet. Hang in there long enough to talk to me.” Rick appeared from nowhere, holding a runaway apple. Water dripped from the brim of his trooper hat. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to talk to me, Ronni.”
He pulled me to my feet and added, “Please.” I nodded.
Rick grabbed the groceries and threw them in the general direction of the grass strip in front of my apartment. He drew me to his chest and we stood in the rain for a minute, oblivious to anything but our heartbeats.
He held me at arms’ length and wiped tears and rain from my face. “I love you,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Ronni.”
“What about Victoria?”
“She and the boys are still at the lakehouse.”
I sighed and shook my head. “The next thing you’ll say is ‘it’s complicated’. I can’t be with you when I’m constantly guilty because you aren’t together as a family, Rick.”
“You never gave me a chance to explain, Ronni, but I don’t have any intention of going back to Vicky. The boys know that. I think they understand we’re better off apart. Vicky and I fight constantly.”
She sounded so much less threatening as “Vicky.” I liked that. But her words kept echoing in my head, like little splinters of glass. “You’re right. We do need to talk.”
“Come on,” he said. “I’m not going to stand in the rain for this conversation.” He tugged at my left hand and I fished for the door key with my right.
I got a few bath towels for us to mop our faces with and threw them on the couch. We sat awkwardly, Halle watching from the kitchen and swishing her tail like she was reminding me to be angry.
“Okay,” I began, “Tell me everything.”
He threw up his hands and I saw water drip from his sleeves, but I refused to mention the possibility of anyone removing wet clothes. “She’s still deciding whether or not to go back to him, even though the boys miss their friends in Tuscaloosa and Vicky knows it. There’s a rumor that the girl who accused Professor Gasbag did it because of a failing grade in his class. The university has an official inquiry in progress. And with all that going on, the biggest consideration for her is that his agent is courting a movie deal for Noxious Gasbag’s third book, and it’s liable to drag on for a year or two. I’m sure Victoria has mentally spent all but a hundred dollars or so already.”
“And she wouldn’t get any of the movie deal money if they divorced.”
“Correct. Apparently we’re talking about a massive amount. Bigger than the professor’s circumference, even surpassing his ego. And that’s visible from outer space.”
“You know what? I’m really not in the mood for jokes right now.”
He turned to fully face me. “She’ll go back to him, and I’ve known that for a while. But I thought you should have some time to consider whether you’d be better off with someone else. That’s the truth. You’re very young, Ronni. You and I are at different points in our lives. And this thing with Victoria reminded me that she and I will always be connected. I don’t know if that’s fair to you.”
Where was this going? I stared at him and raised my eyebrows, determined to wait until he finished his little speech before telling him the things that that torn me apart for days.
“Ronni, you’re going to want children of your own someday,” he said, searching my face for a reaction. “I have the boys to consider...”
“Stop. Please stop. I don’t want to talk about this right now. Why the hell did you turn up on my doorstep if you were determined to break up with me? Are you already chasing someone else?”
“What the hell are you talking about? Where did that come from?”
“Victoria called me, Rick. She said she wanted me to know there’s nothing between the two of you...”
“There’s not,” he interrupted.
“Let me finish. She also said you have a pattern of chasing woman after woman. She said you’d put me on a pedestal, just like her, and then it would be on to the next one.”
I watched his jaw clench. “That’s ridiculous, Ronni, it’s not true. It’s typical manipulative, dramatic Vicky bullshit. I can’t believe she had the gall to...don’t you see what she’s trying to do?” He shook his head.
“Vindictive bitch. After I let her and the boys stay there all this time while her idiot husband...”
“And you were married before Victoria.”
I watched his face rearrange itself from outrage to shock.
“Oh my God. Did Vicky leave anything out?” He was yelling now, and I glanced involuntarily at my neighbor’s wall. Rick took a breath and continued quietly, “Look, I was going to tell you. That was so long ago. Becca and I screwed up. We were married for less than a year and a half, and we both knew it was wrong two months in.”
“And you left her for Victoria, didn’t you?”
“No, I left her because we couldn’t stand each other anymore. We argued about my patrol buddies, who she hated. Becca liked the idea of my uniform and service, but she hated having me on the road all the time. She worried constantly and spent hours on the phone with her mother, who helped her worry even more.” He shook his head, remembering. “We argued about her parents a lot, because they were right about everything. We argued about money, which she was fine with taking from them. We didn’t agree on anything except she belonged with her Mommy and Daddy, not me.” I glared at him. “Okay, yeah, I’d met Vicky. But I told you, my marriage was a mess and Becca didn’t care about me. That’s the truth. And I thought the sun rose and set on Vicky, I admit that.”
I let that thump around in my stomach for a minute, wondering how and when the sun stopped rising and setting on Vicky.
“Where is Becca now? Do you still hear from her?”
“Of course not. She moved to Atlanta with a new husband years ago,” he laughed softly, “and her parents, I swear to God. I never think of her, Ronni, maybe that’s why I didn’t bring it up.”
“You have to admit, Rick, it was a pretty important thing to ‘bring up’.”