Secret Sisters

by Tristi Pinkston

  “Yes?” she said patiently, reminding herself of her New Year’s Resolution. How long did a body have to keep one of those things, anyway?

  “Can we talk?”

  They went into the kitchen, Ren with his laptop under his arm.

  “I was delivering a DVD player to the old Palmer place, you know, that shack clear out there,” he said, waving his hand in the wrong direction, but Ida Mae knew where he meant and didn’t correct him. “Well, there are two ways to get there, and I drove past the Dunns’ on the way back. My laptop was on because I was working on a spreadsheet.”

  This she could not ignore. “You were typing and driving at the same time?”

  “I was driving slowly, and there was no one around for miles,” Ren protested. “It was perfectly safe.”

  She clamped her mouth down. Hard.

  “Anyway, as I was driving past, I picked up a transmission from the camera on the Dunns’ fridge. I was going to ignore it, but then I decided to record it instead.” He turned the laptop toward her. “I need to show you something.”

  “Oh, Ren, I don’t want to spy on those poor people anymore,” Ida Mae protested. “I’ve got my temple recommend interview coming up in two months, and I’ve already got enough repenting to do as it is.”

  “But you’ve got to see this.” He reached out and pushed the play button. Unable to contain her curiosity, Ida Mae watched.

  Nick Dunn was talking to a large man in a black leather coat. “Isn’t that a sweet jacket?” Ren said. “I’ve always wanted one of those.”

  “Hush,” Ida Mae said, even though the clip had no sound.

  Nick waved his hands, looking upset. The man in black reached inside his jacket, took out an envelope, and handed it to Nick. Nick shook his head, but the man waved a finger in his face and set the envelope on the table. He left, and Nick sank into his chair, putting his head in his hands. The clip ended.

  “What happened after that?” Ida Mae asked.

  “It was time to make dinner. The wife came in and started to chop celery.”

  “Hmm.” Ida Mae rested her elbows on the table. “We have no idea what’s in that envelope, but whatever it was, Nick was sure upset by it.”

  “I think it was more money,” Ren said. “It looked just like the envelopes of money they use in mobster movies.”

  “So, all mobsters shop at the same office supply store?” Ida Mae asked.

  “Sure. I bet they get a group discount.” Ren grinned, then closed the lid of his laptop. “What are we going to do, Aunt Ida Mae?”

  “What do you think we should do? All we know is that the boy was given an envelope he didn’t want. Maybe it was a bill from his dentist. You can’t go leaping to conclusions, Ren. I think we’ve had ourselves a bit of excitement, and now we’re craving more. The fact is, we did our job, and the children have food. That’s all we set out to accomplish. End of story.”

  Ida Mae’s words sounded firm in her own ears, yet as she put dinner on the table, she couldn’t help but wonder. Just what was going on at the Dunns’ house that had Nick so upset? He was usually pretty laid back.

  The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. In her “pre-Relief-Society-president” life, she would have let the machine get it. After all, that’s why they invented the answering machine, right? But ever since she was set apart, she felt a pull toward the phone when it rang. Funny, she didn’t remember that being part of the blessing.

  She set the mashed potatoes down and reached for the cordless—another marvelous invention, obviously designed by a busy mother. Who else would have so desperately needed the ability to wander around the house and talk at the same time?

  The caller ID read “Hunter, Reed.” She pushed “talk” immediately.

  “Hello, Sister Babbitt?” Reed Hunter’s usually tremulous voice sounded even more shaky over the phone.

  “What can I do for you, Brother Hunter?”

  “It’s Mother. She’s had another fall, and they’re afraid she may have broken her hip.”

  Ida Mae closed her eyes. She’d been around enough broken hips to know that when an elderly person took a spill of that magnitude, it usually meant their time was near.

  “What would you like me to do?”

  “Could you come see her at the hospital? She’s always liked you. She says you have a way of setting the record straight.”

  Ida Mae bit back a sardonic chuckle. “I’ll be down. What room is she in?”

  “They don’t have her in a room yet—she’s still in x-ray. But I thought I’d better give you a call right away, you know, in case . . .”

  Ida Mae mentally finished his unspoken thought. “I understand.”

  “And we don’t know yet if they’ll be keeping her here or taking her in to Salt Lake. So, I guess I’ll call you and let you know . . . I’m sorry. I should have found that out before calling. I just couldn’t think of what else to do.”

  “It’s all right, Brother Hunter. You let me know where she’s going to be, and I’ll come.”

  “Thank you.” His relief fairly dripped through the phone.

  Ida Mae grabbed her pen and made a notation on the calendar. “What about you and Heidi? Do you need anything?”

  “Heidi is a bit shaken up—she and Mother had a bit of a set-to last night, and she’s blaming herself for Mother’s accident, even though it happened twelve hours later. I keep telling her that she didn’t plan for Mother to trip on a slipper, but she’s taking it hard all the same.”

  Ida Mae made another note: chocolate. There was nothing like a hunk of the brown stuff to soothe the savage beast, or in this case, the upset pre-menopausal woman.

  “I’ll do what I can, Brother Hunter,” she promised, hanging up and turning back to her dinner table. She had some chocolate chip cookie dough in the freezer—she’d take it out and bake it first thing in the morning. With any luck, the cookies would still be warm by the time she made the delivery.

  She tapped a finger on her lips. Something was missing—salad dressing. She turned and grabbed a bottle each of ranch and Catalina and placed them next to the green salad.

  “Ren, dinner’s ready.”

  Ren came a moment later, his hair still wet from the quick shower he had taken while she pulled the meal together. “Smells wonderful, as always,” he said, nodding appreciatively at the arrangement of food. “You sure have a way with a table.” He speared a radish rose with his fork. “I thought you didn’t like radishes.”

  “I don’t. But they add a little color to the salad, so I suffer in silence.”

  The meal proceeded in silence, too—the only sound was the click of knife and fork against the plate. “Manna from heaven,” Ren pronounced, scooting his chair back at long last. “If I keep eating like that, I’m going to gain a hundred pounds.”

  “I do light meals as well,” she told him. “How do you suppose I keep my girlish figure?”

  He smiled, but the expression faded. “Aunt Ida Mae, have you thought any more about what I told you?”

  “You mean about the Dunns?”

  “Yes. I really think there’s something going on there.”

  “I have to run in to the hospital tomorrow. While I’m out, I’ll swing by and see how Mary’s doing, all right? If she seems upset at all, we’ll know we need to look into things.”

  Ren nodded. “I guess that will work.”

  “What’s the alternative? Setting up camp in a tent and monitoring their every move?”

  “Hey, that sounds like fun!”

  She held up a hand. “I was joking. Ren, I love mystery novels as much as you do, but this is Omni. Nothing ever happens here. We have no crime element. We have no drug dealers. We don’t even speed. It’s just not likely that something suspicious is going on.”

  “You’re probably right.” He stood and gathered her plate along with his. “I’m on dishes tonight.”

  She blinked. When was the last time someone else had done dishes in her house? Probably four years. B
ut only because I didn’t accept offers of help, she realized belatedly. She really was going to have to loosen up.

  *

  Ida Mae drove her car into the insufficient Omni Hospital parking lot and found a space not too terribly far from the door. She checked with the nurse, then stuck her head into the elderly Sister Hunter’s room. The lady was alone and appeared to be asleep, but as Ida Mae stepped back to leave, she heard,

  “I smell cookies.”

  “Yes, you do, Rose.” Ida Mae stepped over the threshold and approached the bed, her paper plate held in front of her like a ring bearer’s pillow. “Fresh baked this morning.”

  “You’re a lifesaver.” Rose Hunter raised her head and looked at Ida Mae. “How did you know I needed a good cookie today?”

  “I didn’t need a crystal ball to see that one.” Ida Mae took the foil off one edge of the plate and pulled out a cookie, placing it in Rose’s hand.

  “I wish I could sit up,” Rose said. “I’m going to get crumbs in my bed.”

  “No, you won’t,” Ida Mae told her. “You’ll eat ’em all, and none of them will end up in your bed.”

  She took a seat while Rose ate, then helped her reach the water.

  “Absolutely delicious,” Rose said, resting her head against her pillow once more. “You know how to cheer a person up.”

  “I took a plate over to Heidi before I came here,” Ida Mae said. “That poor girl is just beside herself.”

  “I wish she wouldn’t take it so hard. Sure, we had a little fight, but it’s one I’ve wanted to have for years. It made me feel better—I don’t know why she’s hanging on to it like this.”

  “You wanted to fight?”

  “Well, you know how it is. There’s stuff that has to be cleared out of the air, and once it’s gone, you like each other better for it.”

  Ida Mae nodded. She’d had that experience herself, many times.

  “Heidi’s been a good daughter-in-law. I have nothing to fault her for.” Rose reached for her water again, missed by a mile, and Ida Mae helped bring it to her lips.

  “Tell her for me, will you?” Rose wiped the corner of her mouth with the tissue balled up in her hand. “Tell her I don’t blame her for this at all. She won’t listen to me.”

  “I will. Now, tell me about your hip. When Reed called this morning, he said it wasn’t broken.”

  “It’s just bruised, thank goodness. I’ve got a whole lot of living left to do before my days are over.”

  Rose Hunter was a tough old bird, Ida Mae thought affectionately. Nearly as ornery as Ida Mae herself, Rose held her own in any argument or discussion. It was only two years ago that she had come to live with Reed and Heidi. A broken ankle had been the culprit that time, and when it healed, everyone decided it was best if she just stayed on. She loved her independence and came kicking and screaming, but she told Ida Mae later that she didn’t know what she would have done if Reed and Heidi hadn’t taken her in.

  “Do you ever think about your husband?”

  The question was asked softly, but it slapped Ida Mae upside the head. She blinked and fought back a rush of emotion before answering,

  “Of course I do. He’s been dead for six years, but I think about him every day.”

  “My Evan has been gone for seventeen. He was killed in a farming accident when we lived in Santaquin. My children were raised, of course, so there was just me to worry about, and I’ve done fine. But lately, I’ve really been missing him.”

  Ida Mae would not think about Henry. She would not do it. She leaned forward and concentrated on Rose’s relaxed face. The woman was drifting off to sleep, sharing her memories as she went.

  “We were married when I was sixteen. My father came right up out of his chair when I told him I was engaged—he went looking for his shotgun. I told him there was no need. Evan and I were in love, and we were going to build a home together. My father decided that being married was its own punishment and let us go through with it. Evan was nineteen, but already established with a little farm of his own.”

  Her voice got softer the more she talked, and soon she was breathing the deep rhythm of the asleep. Ida Mae sat for a few more minutes, then slipped out of the room. She had too much to do to dwell on her own past—she’d much rather help others deal with theirs.

  Chapter Six

  “Thank you for coming, sisters,” Ida Mae said, bringing the meeting to order. “I don’t think we have any old business, do we?”

  Hannah shook her head.

  “All right, then, let’s see what’s on the agenda for this week.”

  Tansy bounced nervously in her chair.

  “Yes, Tansy?”

  “Well, I wasn’t supposed to say anything—Ren made me promise. But I just can’t hold it in.”

  “What does Ren have to do with the workings of the Relief Society?” Ida Mae was exasperated. That foolish boy wasn’t still going on about the Dunns, was he? She’d been to the house as promised and found Mary in good spirits. The children seemed happy. The house was warm. What more was there to say or do?

  “Well, more than he’d like,” Tansy said. “Is he here? He promised he’d help me explain.”

  Ida Mae pulled in a long, deep breath. Tansy felt she needed backup? What on earth . . .?

  “Ren?” she called out. “Your accomplice needs you.”

  Ren appeared immediately, giving credence to Ida Mae’s suspicion that he’d been lurking in the hallway.

  “Just what have you and Tansy been up to?”

  “It’s like this,” Tansy said, even though she’d clearly indicated she wanted Ren to do the talking. “I called here the other day, and you were out. My car wouldn’t start, and I needed a ride to the store. Ren came and got me, and we had a great time. I found a sale on Lofthouse sugar cookies, and I remembered Mary saying one time that her children really liked that brand. I thought we’d take a box out to them.”

  “You wanted to spy,” Ida Mae interjected, and Arlette clicked her tongue.

  “Okay, so I wanted to spy. That family’s situation hasn’t been sitting right with me for days now. And Ren came too, so I figured there really wasn’t any harm in it.”

  “Ren is not your passport to freedom, Tansy,” Ida Mae pointed out. “I’d say he’s your ticket to trouble.”

  “Aunt Ida Mae, I’m not as bad as all that,” Ren piped up. “Let her finish.”

  Ida Mae crossed her arms and fixed Tansy with what she thought was a piercing glare. Tansy was unfazed as she proceeded with her tale.

  “We took the cookies in, and the children were so happy to get them. Mary invited us to sit and have a cookie ourselves, along with some milk. And that’s . . . when Ren did it.”

  “Did what?” A tremor of premonition raced through Ida Mae’s veins. Oh, say he didn’t. Please do not say he did what I’m afraid he did.

  “He placed a bug in the living room.”

  Ida Mae exhaled, her worst fears coming true. “Ren, I cannot believe you did that. Another law broken, another thing I’m going to have to confess—what are you trying to do?”

  “Why did you take a bug to the Dunns’?” Arlette looked confused. “And what kind was it?”

  “A bug is a listening device,” Ren explained.

  “I just don’t believe it.” Arlette’s knitting needles flew furiously, orange yarn slithering through her fingers like worms on steroids. “Ida Mae, of all the things . . .”

  “Believe me, I know. Ren, Tansy, how could you do such a thing?”

  “It’s like this, Auntie.” Ren leaned forward, putting his gangly elbows on his equally gangly knees. “I watched that clip over and over, and I couldn’t tell for sure if Nick was happy or mad. I could tell he was excited, but that was all, and I thought, you can be excited because you’re happy or because you’re mad. I just wanted an answer.”

  “I will take responsibility for placing the camera,” Ida Mae said, shaking her finger at him, “but you didn’t place that bug under the
auspices of the Relief Society. I will not protect you if that comes to light.” She said this firmly, knowing full well that she’d bail him out if she had to.

  “We need to tell the bishop about this,” Arlette said, and Ida Mae nodded. Things had gone way too far. They needed to pull out while they could. But Tansy spoke up.

  “We can’t! I was over to see Sister Sylvester just last night. She’s still on bed rest, and her sister has come to live and take care of things. The poor bishop’s blood pressure has only gone down two points, and the medication they put him on isn’t helping. Please, let’s not, Ida Mae. Please.”

  Ida Mae rolled her eyes at the ceiling. It was one thing to take care of a few problems without the bishop’s knowledge, but it was quite another to listen to someone else’s private conversations.

  “This is what we will do,” Ida Mae spoke after pausing for several seconds. “We’ll go back, we’ll come up with a reason to go into the house, and we’ll remove the bug. We’ll tell Mary that I wrote one of the phone numbers wrong on the card we gave her, and I will take back the camera, replacing it with a different card. We are going to pull ourselves out of this as swiftly and as deftly as we can, and then we are never, ever going to do anything like this again.”

  Tansy looked like she might cry. Ren’s head hung down—the boy really reminded her of a basset hound. Hannah’s eyes were wide. Arlette was the only person in the room who looked as though she agreed with Ida Mae. Be that as it may, the proclamation had been made.

  “When do we go?” Arlette said.

  “This very afternoon.”

  They agreed to meet at Arlette’s at one o’clock and ride out together. Ida Mae didn’t know why that arrangement was made—surely she and Tansy alone could handle it, but Ren wouldn’t be left out for anything, and Arlette was determined to oversee the retrieval and make sure justice was served.

  “I wish I could go,” Hannah mourned, and Ida Mae patted her shoulder.

  “It’s okay, dear. The next time we do something illegal, we’ll hire you a sitter, and you can come along.”