The Body in the Casket

by Katherine Hall Page

  Charity Sibley had shocked her friends and family by moving to a large sprawling house in Mendham, New Jersey, with a stable on six acres. She bred miniature horses, another shock. Who knew it was her dream? But it wasn’t the horses as much as crossing the river to Jersey that stunned everyone. However, once they’d braved the trip and managed to find their ways back to Manhattan again, she always had plenty of company, including the Fairchilds, although Faith relied heavily on her Waze app.

  “Maybe during the February school vacation,” Faith said. They started to talk about plans when Faith realized they were among the last in the restaurant, and knowing how much the staffs’ feet were aching she asked for the check, which her aunt grabbed.

  “I said, ‘my treat,’ missy.”

  “Okay, but let me leave the tip.”

  While they waited for the server to return, Faith remembered she had one more question about Max Dane. “The jinx must have fallen on him as well. I haven’t been able to find any show he was involved with as producer or director after Heaven or Hell. Do you know of anything?”

  “Right after H or H folded, Max brought back one of his biggest successes from the seventies. Revivals were, and are, popular if it’s the right match for the times.”

  “But this wasn’t?”

  “It was at first. Now run along home and tell that husband of yours that he’d better not stand me up again!” The smile gave Chat’s words their true meaning.

  “I’ll tell him.” They walked out to the sidewalk and Faith hugged her aunt good-bye.

  I’ll tell him, she repeated to herself. Good to have Chat to myself, but this better have been a one-time thing . . .

  Pix arrived at the catering kitchen shortly after Faith the next morning.

  “Niki will be here soon to make the cupcakes for the shower cupcake tree. Amelia doesn’t know what she’s having—or isn’t saying, right?” Faith said once Pix had hung up her jacket and was pouring them both coffees.

  “She has a little boy and no, you’re right. Either they want to be surprised or aren’t saying. In my day whatever came down the shoot was what you got and happy for it.”

  “We didn’t want to know,” Faith said. “It was a kind of leave-it-to-the-Almighty thing with Tom, and I just wanted the whole thing to be over. A puppy would have been fine at that point.”

  Pix laughed. She well remembered both of Faith’s pregnancies, which gave a lie to both the term “morning” sickness and the promise that it would pass after fourteen weeks. She put Faith’s mug down next to her. “I have firm instructions from Samantha that neither of us are to mention Caleb, her old job, her new job, or in fact anything about her whatsoever at the shower.”

  “But she’s going to be there isn’t she? Amelia was one of her best friends in high school.”

  “She’ll be there and she’ll say as little or as much as she wants. Her words.”

  “Oh dear. I hadn’t thought about mentioning anything about her and now I’ll be thinking of it the whole time.”

  “No you won’t. You’ll be too busy oohing and aahing over all the cute little outfits and being amazed at the amount of stuff new parents need these days, even with a second child.”

  “True—and you’ll be doing the same. Mark and Rebecca are bound to produce a grandchild before long.”

  “Hopefully before I need a walker.”

  “How does Samantha seem? I haven’t been with her since we went food shopping. Holed up in her room except for work?”

  “The opposite. Miss Congeniality! She loves her job. The ‘crew’ at Starbucks is ‘fab’ plus she’s made a ‘ton’ of new friends. Apparently the corporate world was ‘sterile’ and now she’s, and this is a direct quote, ‘realizing what is really important in life.’”

  “And that would be?” Faith was amused, but also knew how worried Pix was. This was so not Samantha, an overachiever from birth.

  “Something along the lines of finding inner peace and happiness. I suppose I should be glad it’s Starbucks and not a cult.”

  “You mean it’s not?” Niki walked in at the tail end of the conversation. “I would have been here earlier, but I swear no matter what route I take it’s being paved. Yet the number of potholes seems to stay the same.”

  “Just one of life’s many mysteries, like disappearing socks in the dryer,” Faith said as they all got to work.

  Alexis had been Alexis Abbot for so long that “Alexis Reed” on the envelope was a slight shock. She could see the Santa Monica pier from the balcony where she was sitting, going through the mail that had accumulated while she was shooting a commercial in Vancouver. It seemed like every offer the last couple of years, whether TV or film, involved trekking there. She ought to apply for Canadian citizenship.

  The view was soothing, as always. She’d grown up by the ocean, okay, the Jersey shore, but still beautiful. She was forever grateful that when she’d started making real money out here all those years ago she’d had the sense to buy this place.

  Careful of her newly manicured nails, she reached for the letter opener on a small table next to the chaise, careful also not to knock over her Pellegrino.

  She read the invitation and enclosures. Rodeo Drive would take care of wardrobe, and as for the body beneath, she’d little need to polish what had already stood the test of time with a little help from skilled professionals and a whole lot of hard work on her part. The first thing she’d done after purchasing the house was install a home gym. She was sure that cow Eve would be on the guest list, and although she hadn’t seen her in person for twenty years, Alexis had kept track of the aging actor’s career. A career that had robbed her of her big chance, thanks to Max Dane. Revenge was a dish best served cold, she reminded herself, and Massachusetts in winter would be frigid.

  She reached for her cell and tapped in a number.

  The Friday five o’clock shower was already in full swing when Amelia’s sister-in-law, Jennifer, clinked her wineglass with a knife blade to get everyone’s attention. “Weekends are so busy, I mean I live in my car, driving to soccer in the fall and now hockey, gymnastics, plus all the errands I never finish. Anyway, everybody has had or been to so many baby showers, I thought I’d give Amelia a ‘baby sprinkle’ for baby boy or girl number two!”

  “Thank you so much! I love you, Jen,” Amelia said, wiping away a tear. “I’m at the weepy stage, guys.”

  Jennifer gave her a hug, and Samantha, standing on her friend’s other side, passed her a tissue.

  “So,” Jen continued, “I thought what we—and Amelia—needed was a party! I do have some games . . .” She paused while the expected groans came from all sides of the room. “. . . but they aren’t stupid. Have Faith catering has lots of yummy stuff to eat, so you don’t have to cook dinner, and I’ve created a special girl or boy cocktail for Amelia—a Cosmo with a dash of blue curaçao. Plus there’s plenty of wine. Sorry, none for you.” She gave Amelia another hug. “Now, before I forget, ladies, there are envelopes already stamped on the table. Address one to yourself and save Amelia the work. You know how good she is about thank-yous. And there are slips of paper for you to write your guesses for birth date and weight! Winner gets a gift card to Starbucks, which an anonymous donor has generously given us!”

  Faith could hear everything from the kitchen. Jennifer was in her starter house, she speculated. A small cape that would serve until her two kids were older and her husband was further up the ladder at the financial planning service where he worked, and where, Faith heard from Pix, who was seated with the rest of the guests, the couple had met. Faith took a tray of warm hors d’oeuvres out to pass. A cheese platter and a smaller crudité assortment were on the dining table. After many years of experience with the veggies, Faith had learned people liked to treat themselves on occasions like this, and she would end up taking the healthy stuff back to work virtually untouched. She had added artichoke hearts and tiny baby beets (appropriate) to the ubiquitous peppers, carrots, and broccoli florets. S
he’d also provided two dipping sauces—blue cheese and Asian ginger. The changes were attracting more interest.

  The women were having a good time, she noted as she moved around the room offering small Cuban sandwiches, smoked salmon blini, stuffed mushrooms, and mini quiches. She was surprised to see a look of apprehension on Pix’s face, so different from the laughter in the rest of the room. Samantha was talking to someone Faith didn’t recognize. She seemed older than the other guests, but maybe it was because of her perfect makeup, hair that appeared streaked by the sun, and a cut so artfully casual both screamed a pricey Newbury Street salon. She was wearing a black pencil skirt that showed great legs. An ivory sweater was just this side of too tight and paired with very high heels. Faith could only assume she must be going out afterward, not home to tiny hands that would leave marks on the sweater. Faith had only just started wearing ivory or white again herself.

  “Faith, this is Denise Walker. Denise, Faith Fairchild of Have Faith in Your Kitchen. Denise and I were at Aleford High together,” Samantha said.

  “Oh, Faith, I know who you are. Such divine food. I was just showing Samantha my ring. Why, here’s a thought. I’ll talk to Mummy about doing a tasting with you. The wedding isn’t until Labor Day. Oh, such a joke here at the shower! Labor Day!”

  Just as Denise knew her, Faith knew Denise. Everyone, male or female, has had a high school nemesis, and Denise was Samantha’s. She’d been the leader of a pack of girls who slyly and not so slyly attacked others—the followers out of fear they might become targets, too. Studious Samantha who had been a late bloomer had been one of Denise’s favorite victims. No matter how often Faith and Pix told Samantha to ignore the girl, that she was jealous and so forth, Samantha had been hurt each and every time.

  Faith wondered whether there might be some Ex-Lax in Jen’s medicine cabinet that she could slip into a stuffed mushroom to give Denise an uncomfortable hour or two later. But no, she was a professional, and tampering with her food was a mortal sin. Heaven or hell? No problem there.

  “I would be happy to talk to your mother, although unfortunately we are booked solid for Labor Day weekend and those before and after. It’s a popular time for weddings.”

  “Oh, we’ve had a caterer for ages. I just thought we might get a better deal from you, seeing as you’re local.” Translation: small town, Faith thought. She’d heard it before.

  Pix stood up. “Well, congratulations, Denise. I’m sure your parents are very happy. Why don’t I fill another tray, Faith, while you pass the rest of these? Everything is delicious.”

  Samantha jumped up, too. “I’ll help.”

  The years since high school had done nothing to change Denise.

  “I hear your boyfriend dumped you,” she said loudly to Samantha. “What was his name? Something like a farmer? Caleb, right? You’d better get going or you could end up on the shelf.” She laughed heartily, expecting the room, which had gone quiet, to join in.

  “I’m pretty proud to be on that shelf, Denise,” a pretty young woman with a chin-length bob said. “A lot of us here are. I mean why grab the first one to actually go down on one knee? Better to wait for the real thing.”

  Now the room did erupt in giggles.

  “Denise’s older brother is Jen’s husband’s boss,” Amelia whispered to Faith. “I didn’t want her here, but I thought she’d behave. Nobody believes anything she says anyway.”

  “Prezzies now, cupcakes later,” Jen announced, and the party was back on track.

  After a while, when it became apparent that no one was making an attempt to talk to her, Denise teetered out. Faith saw and smiled at Samantha, who was helping to organize the gifts. She raised a hand and indicated “score one for you” with her finger. Sam grinned back.

  Maybe the road to happiness was paved with lattes and Frappuccino.

  The shower or “sprinkle” had been a great success. Pix was helping Faith pack up.

  “It was fun looking at all those weensy clothes,” Faith said. “Can’t imagine Ben and Amy were ever that small. I know I have pictures, but I also seem to have amnesia.”

  “I pretty much had amnesia for the whole first year after each of mine,” Pix said. “It’s a wonder poor Dan got any notice at all when he came along. I do remember being in the same sweatshirt and sweatpants for several years, however.”

  Amelia’s mother, Susan, came in. “Thank you, Faith. Everything was delicious and looked so lovely! I’m afraid Amelia’s father will be getting soup and a sandwich or takeout on his way home from work tonight—I’ve eaten so much!”

  “Takeout. What a great idea. Sam can swing by Country Pizza and get himself a grinder,” Pix said. “Neither Samantha nor I will need dinner.” She looked pleased at the idea of not having to cook.

  “I saw Ursula at Symphony,” Susan said. “She is amazing. I hope I am as spry at her age—and as beautiful.”

  Pix smiled. “I know. She runs rings around me most of the time.”

  “Certainly having a beau must help,” Susan said over her shoulder as she left, adding “and such a handsome one, too. A lovely couple.”

  Pix was standing much as Lot’s wife may have.

  “Beau?” she said, her voice barely audible. “Mother has a beau?”

  She tore the letter open after seeing the name on the front: “Bella Martelli.” It didn’t take long to read the invitation or look over the rest of what was inside. Taking a pen from her purse, she made a dark check next to “Will Attend,” pressing so hard there was an indentation on the back. Placing it in the stamped envelope—so thoughtful!—she licked it closed, went out, and was about to drop it into the first mailbox she saw.

  And then changed her mind, stuffing the RSVP into her pocket.

  But, oh yes, she was attending.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Did you know about this?” Pix asked as she and Faith got into the van.

  Faith was rarely at a loss for words, but at the moment the only response that sprang to mind was “Um.” Her thoughts tumbled about. Pix and Ursula had gone shopping for what was a very different wardrobe for the older woman. Hadn’t Austin Stebbins come up? And why had Amelia’s mother described him as a “beau”? Had she spotted the two holding hands during intermission at Symphony, a public display of affection in the august hall tantamount for a New Englander like Ursula Lyman Rowe to canoodling in the orchestra pit? And what should Faith have told Pix after she’d met Austin? She hadn’t known exactly what to say and so had said nothing. But she should have mentioned something. A good friend would have figured out a tactful way to share what now seemed a time bomb.

  “Um. Yes, but I don’t exactly know what ‘this’ is? Ursula introduced Austin Stebbins to me as an old acquaintance who had recently moved back to the area. Seems like a nice person and obviously has good taste in food. He took her to lunch at L’Espalier,” Faith said awkwardly.

  “L’Espalier! That expensive place in Back Bay?”

  “Um, yes.”

  Pix snapped her seat belt shut with a loud click. “First Samantha, now Mother. I don’t think I can handle any more surprises, although as a mother of three, one would think I should be used to them.” She pressed her lips together and then opened them again. “She told me she had a friend staying with her for a while. Of course I thought it was a female friend. Did you know this, too? That he was staying with her?”

  Faith let go of the “ums.” Time to woman up. “Yes, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. I understood that it was for a short time while he’s looking for an apartment or condo in town. Ursula thought it didn’t make sense for him to waste his money on the hotel when she had extra room.” Ursula was the embodiment of Yankee thrift, ironing wrapping paper and saving string—even pieces too short. “He wants her advice, since he has been living in California for many years and doesn’t know Boston anymore.”

  “And why haven’t I heard his name?” Pix fumed. “Mother has never mentioned an ‘Austin Stebbins’ to my
certain knowledge, and over the years I’ve repeatedly heard the names of all the people she went to school with, met anywhere in fact, even every pet she’s had.”

  Faith took it as the rhetorical question it was. She knew that not being kept in the loop was behind Pix’s tirade. And yes, it was another surprise so close to Samantha’s news. When her friend calmed down, she’d see it was a good thing. Arm candy, pleasant male companionship for Ursula—Austin was definitely good-looking, a very well-preserved older man. Once Pix met him, she’d be happy for her mother. And the sooner the better.

  Before they’d left Jennifer’s house, Faith had assembled a new platter from the crudité and cheese leftovers and put the hors d’oeuvres in the boxes she’d brought ready for the hostess to slip in the fridge or freezer. They’d packed up the unopened bottles of wine—no charge for them—and left a surprisingly small container of the Blue Cosmo mix. The ladies had taken to the creation enthusiastically. There were also a few of Niki’s cupcakes left, but Jen insisted Faith take them. “Please, my kids don’t need more sugar. They bounce off the walls as it is, and I won’t be able to keep away from them either. Ellery is three and I still have my baby fat. And my husband is on the no-carb protein diet.”

  Thinking now of the box in the rear, Faith said casually, “How about we drop the cupcakes off at your mother’s? We drive right by the house.”

  “But it’s after seven. Much too late.”

  “I’m sure she’ll still be up,” Faith said, although Ursula would have had supper long since and could well be brushing her teeth, getting ready for a long winter’s nap. The combination of January dark and early-to-bed habit might not have been broken by her houseguest’s presence.

  “Best to call,” Pix said, and Faith noted a hint of anticipation in her tone of voice. She got out her phone. “Hello, Mother. It’s Pix. Faith and I are on our way back from Amelia’s shower.” There was a pause. “It was lovely and yes, Samantha was there, but she had to go straight to Boston for her shift. We’re near the house and have some treats to drop off if it’s not too late.” Another pause. “Okay, we’ll see you soon.”