by Mary Daheim
“So was I,” snapped Gertrude. “Who do you think started it?”
“I should have guessed,” Judith murmured, reversing out of the diagonal parking space. “You shouldn’t exert yourself. You might have another spell.”
The old lady snorted. But for all of their daughters’ bravado, both Gertrude and Aunt Deb were very old and quite frail. Like her sister-in-law, Deborah Grover was also confined to a wheelchair. Judith cast a fond sidelong glance in her mother’s direction. Gertrude was still feisty and her tongue might be sharp, but her heart was…well, sometimes it was hard, but at least it was still beating.
The rest of the day and the following morning were routine. Besides Mr. and Mrs. Kluger and Suzanne Farrow, Judith had four other guests—newlyweds from Green Bay, and a middle-aged couple from Japan who had indicated that they didn’t speak English very well. Judith was accustomed to foreign visitors, especially from the Pacific Rim, and had instructions printed in several languages. Over the years, her guest list had become increasingly global.
Phyliss was doing laundry, Gertrude was playing bridge at Aunt Deb’s apartment with their old cronies from a Catholic charity they’d belonged to for fifty-odd years, and Joe had taken on a case involving a title search for some waterfront property south of the city. He was at the county office, doing research to ferret out the various aliases one of the alleged owners had used. Mike had called from the ranger station up at the pass to say all was well. Just before school started, he and Kristin had taken their two boys to Disneyland. They’d had a wonderful time, and Judith wished that she and Joe could have gone along to see the excitement in their grandsons’ eyes. But August had been busy at the B&B. Fortunately.
The front doorbell interrupted Judith in the middle of filling wonton wrappers with shrimp. Maybe, she thought, going through the dining room and entry hall, it was Taryn Moss with party preparations.
But although a woman stood on the porch, it wasn’t Taryn. Instead, it was a redhead in her forties, porcelain skin etched with fine lines and wide-set gray eyes. She looked delicate, almost wispy, but her manner indicated that there was steel somewhere in those fine bones.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” she said in a soft, yet compelling voice, “but I’m Elsa Wittener. I’ll be attending the party here tonight, and I wanted to check everything out beforehand. Do you mind if I come in?”
Judith noticed that an older-model blue Honda was parked at the curb. She wondered if it belonged to her visitor. “Please,” Judith said, stepping aside. “I’ll show you the living room. It’s quite large.”
Elsa stood just beyond the open pocket doors that separated the living room from the entry hall. Her gray eyes took in every detail—including the oak buffet, the armoire that held the TV, the matching sofas, the bay window, the fireplace, the plate rail, and the bookcases.
“I see you have a piano,” she remarked. “How nice. Do you play?”
Judith shook her head. “Not very well. My cousin and I took lessons when we were kids, but neither of us had any talent. The piano is for guests.”
Elsa nodded. “May I try it?”
“Of course.”
The women walked to the other end of the room. As usual, Judith had a jigsaw puzzle set up on a card table near the piano. The work in progress was the old Paris Opera house at night.
“You must like music,” Elsa remarked, glancing at the half-finished puzzle.
“Oh, yes,” Judith replied, “but I’m not very knowledgeable. My cousin is quite an opera buff, though.”
Elsa remained standing, but began to play. To Judith’s surprise, she sounded almost professional.
“That’s lovely,” Judith said when Elsa finished the brief recital. “What was that?”
“Part of a Bach piano concerto,” Elsa replied. “This instrument has a decent sound, but you might consider having it tuned.”
Judith grimaced. “It’s been a while.”
Elsa nodded as she started to walk away from the piano. “I can tell. Where should we set up the drinks and food? On that buffet?”
“Yes, that’s how I usually do it.”
“You have all the necessary serving pieces, of course,” Elsa said. “Will they be set out?”
Judith was growing a little vexed. The newcomer acted as if Judith was a novice at playing hostess, not to mention tone-deaf. “Certainly. I’ll put everything you’ll need on the dining-room table since we won’t be using it for dinner this evening. But I need the buffet from six to seven for my other guests’ social hour.” Judith started out of the living room. “The dining room is in here,” she said over her shoulder. “The kitchen is just beyond it. I already told Taryn she could use the oven and microwave if she wanted to.”
“She forgot to mention that,” Elsa said in a disapproving tone. “Taryn isn’t very organized and details are beyond her. That’s why I wanted to make sure everything is in order.”
Judith pointed to Grandma and Grandpa Grover’s oak dining-room table, which was decorated with a crimson chrysanthemum centerpiece. “That’s where I’ll put everything.”
Elsa, however, was gazing at the breakfront. “You have some nice pieces in here,” she remarked.
“They’re heirlooms,” Judith said as they strolled back into the living room.
Elsa paused to study the Flynns’ CDs and tapes. “Very eclectic,” she remarked.
“True,” Judith said. “We’ve collected all sorts of music over the years, going back to vinyl and even beyond. My parents and grandparents, my son, my first husband—we all had different tastes.”
“So I noticed.” Elsa regarded a heavy-metal group’s tape with disdain.
“Mike—my son—didn’t take all of his recordings with him when he moved,” Judith said, feeling she needed an explanation. “I hate to throw them away.” Indeed, she hated to throw anything away. All of her family’s possessions symbolized fond memories. And why, Judith thought to herself, do I feel I have to defend myself to you, Elsa Wittener?
“By the way,” Judith said before the next sheathed criticism could flow from Elsa’s lips, “are you Rudolf Wittener’s sister?”
Elsa smiled slightly, but her gray eyes were as cold as snow clouds. “No. I’m his ex-wife.”
“Oh.” Judith was taken aback. “I didn’t mean to pry. I was just trying to sort out the party guest list in my mind.”
“You needn’t bother.” Elsa’s smile remained in place as she examined a blue Wedgwood plate on the oak rail above the buffet. “Is that an heirloom as well?”
“Yes,” Judith replied. “Most of the plates are. All but one of the Hummels are mine or my mother’s. We both have a fondness for them.”
Elsa glanced at a figurine that depicted two children looking up at a roadside shrine. “Charming,” she commented. But the word lacked conviction. “I must go. Thank you.”
Judith followed Elsa to the door, but the other woman said nothing more except for a perfunctory good-bye. Judith peered through the window in the door. The Honda remained parked at the curb, but Elsa was walking along the cul-de-sac, headed toward Rudi’s home, the second house from the corner.
Judith gazed back at the Honda. She thought there was someone sitting in the passenger seat, but she couldn’t be sure. Nothing moved. Perhaps it was a coat or jacket that had been slung over the back of the seat. With a shrug, she returned to her wonton wrappers.
The Japanese couple, whose last name was Kasaki, arrived punctually at four o’clock. Their English was better than they had indicated. Judith was able to learn that they were on a West Coast tour that would include Las Vegas. The Kasakis were very excited at the prospect of seeing the Strip—while, Judith figured, probably losing a lot of yen in the process.
The honeymooners, aptly named Bliss, showed up at Hillside Manor fifteen minutes later. They were African-American, biochemists, and big Green Bay Packer fans. Joe, who got home just as they arrived, took over the greeting duties and admitted a soft spot for the Packers ever since they’d be
aten Dallas in a championship game on a frozen field in 1966.
Just before five, Judith received a call from a woman who said that she and her husband had been stranded at the airport. “Our flight was canceled,” she explained in a fretful voice. “We can’t leave until late tomorrow morning, and all the hotels near the airport are full of conventioneers. My husband and I stayed with you four years ago. Hillside Manor was so pleasant. By any chance do you have a vacancy?”
“I do,” Judith replied, trying to place the couple whose last name was Theobald. “Come right ahead. You’ll make it just in time for the social hour.”
Mrs. Theobald expressed her gratitude and hung up. Five minutes later, the Kluger party arrived.
Andrea Kluger was a slender woman probably closer to sixty than fifty with ash-blond hair, deep blue eyes, and perfect makeup. Her husband, Dolph, was perhaps nearing seventy, but a large, bald man whose vigor hadn’t been dimmed by age. Mrs. Kluger’s daughter, Suzanne, had her mother’s coloring, though her frame was much leaner. She wore no cosmetics, but glowed with health. Still, Suzanne struck Judith as somewhat withdrawn.
“We had to wait forever for our luggage,” Andrea said in annoyance. “The conveyor belt broke. Travel these days is so difficult.”
“Only six minutes,” Dolph said with the trace of a European accent. He glanced fondly at his wife. “Andrea doesn’t like waiting.”
Andrea had the grace to look faintly embarrassed. “Admittedly, patience has never been one of my virtues. But I mustn’t bore you, Mrs. Flynn.” She gazed around the entry hall. “Yes, this looks quite nice. We don’t usually stay in bed-and-breakfast establishments.”
Judging from the designer luggage, Andrea Kluger was accustomed to traveling first-class.
“But so close to dear Rudi,” Dolph said in his hearty manner. “That was the priority.” He handed Judith his cashmere overcoat. “I don’t need this in your balmy autumn weather.
It was chilly when we left New York. I shall go see Rudi immediately. Which way?”
Before Judith could show him Rudi’s house, Andrea put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Really, darling, must you? We’ll be seeing him in less than two hours. You should rest. It was a long flight.”
“I rested on the flight,” Dolph responded. “You expect me to race up and down the aisle? Do push-ups in the tiny restroom? Come, come, I must go. We have only a limited time here, and Rudi has rehearsal tomorrow with performances in the evening.”
“As you like.” Andrea had the air of a woman who was used to losing arguments with her husband. Or, Judith thought, at least over small matters. “Don’t stay too long,” she cautioned. “Rudi and his…friends have to get ready for the party. Suzanne and I will go up to our rooms.” She turned to Judith. “Keys, please.”
Judith fumbled with the keys to Rooms Three and Four. Fortunately, neither the Blisses nor the Kasakis had wanted to pay the higher rate for Room Three, which was the largest and therefore the most expensive. She’d been able to give it to Dolph and Andrea. The room, however, shared a bathroom with Room Four, which was where Judith had booked Suzanne.
“A moment, please,” Judith said to Andrea. “I must show Mr. Kluger where Mr. Wittener lives.”
Dolph’s long strides beat Judith to the door. “Pay no attention to my lovely wife,” he said in a low voice. “She fusses. She sometimes fumes. But she means well. She is a good woman—the best.”
“I’m sure she is,” Judith said, though she wasn’t convinced. “Your stepdaughter is very quiet.”
“Usually,” Dolph said as Judith opened the door. “Suzanne’s a freak.”
Judith looked surprised. “A freak?”
Dolph nodded. He was obviously anxious to be on his way, barely able to contain his energy. “A physical-fitness freak. So much exercise! It can’t be good for you. Now where is my dear Rudi?”
Judith pointed out the Wittener house. “So modest,” Dolph murmured, hurrying down the porch steps.
Judith refrained from saying that with increasing property values on Heraldsgate Hill, even an ordinary bungalow such as Vivian’s could fetch two grand a month. But if Dolph lived in New York City, he was probably accustomed to even higher prices.
Andrea and Suzanne were still waiting. Judith glanced at the six pieces of luggage. She’d be lucky if she could carry one at a time.
Suzanne apparently noticed Judith’s hesitation. “Let me,” she said. Effortlessly, she stowed a suitcase under each arm and picked up two more. “Mother, you can take the carry-on and the fold-over.”
“I’ll get the fold-over,” Judith said quickly. “I’m sorry, but I have an artificial hip.”
“No problem.” Suzanne was already mounting the stairs with ease.
Andrea picked up the carry-on along with Dolph’s overcoat, which Judith had hung on the hat rack. She followed the women a little breathlessly. The fold-over was heavier than she’d expected.
“Room Three?” Andrea asked when they reached the second floor.
Judith nodded. “Room Four is yours, Ms. Farrow.”
Suzanne placed one of the smaller suitcases outside of Room Four.
“My daughter travels light,” Andrea remarked with apparent amusement.
Judith opened the door to Room Three. Andrea stopped on the threshold, studying the space. “Yes, this is quite nice,” she said after a long pause. “It will do.”
“I’m glad,” Judith replied. “We remodeled a few years back.”
“You have good taste,” Andrea declared. “I particularly like your wallpaper. It’s very William Morris.”
“It is a William Morris design,” Judith said proudly. “All of the wallpapers are inspired by him except for two from Clarence House.”
“Excellent.” Andrea nodded approval. “I’m afraid I’ve always associated B&Bs with gluts of chintz and stuffed animals on the bed.”
Judith was very pleased. She hadn’t seemed to get a very good grade from Elsa Wittener, but her stock had risen with Andrea Kluger. “I went for elegance,” Judith said, “rather than cutesy. And quality. These wallpapers cost more, but they last forever. Refurbishing rooms means losing income while the work is under way.”
“Very sound.” Andrea nodded again. “My first husband would have approved. Blake carried on the family tradition of quality over quantity in the manufacture of musical instruments. His ancestors were Italian, originally Farranzelli, but his great-grandfather changed it when the immigration officials at Ellis Island couldn’t spell it properly. Thus, my husband became a Farrow. Blake Farrow the third, to be exact.”
“Is he still in the business?” Judith asked.
Andrea shook her head. “No. His younger brother runs it now. Blake was killed a few years ago in a foxhunting accident in New Jersey. He was only forty-nine.”
“I’m sorry,” Judith said. “My first husband died at the same age.”
“An accident?” Andrea inquired.
A train wreck, Judith thought to herself. That had been Dan McMonigle, a self-created accident waiting to happen. “No. He was ill.” The idea of Dan riding to the hounds was so preposterous that Judith had to turn away. The closest he’d ever have come to that kind of sport was betting on the dog races. And losing.
Andrea had entered the room. Suzanne stacked the suitcases against the wall while Judith hung the fold-over on the closet door. After pointing out the shared bathroom and other amenities, she accompanied Suzanne to Room Four.
“I didn’t ask what your stepfather actually does for a living,” Judith said as Suzanne immediately opened both windows to let in the autumn air.
“He guides and advises musicians,” Suzanne said. “He used to teach, too.”
“I see,” Judith said, watching Suzanne pull her blond hair away from her face and tie it up in a ponytail.
“I’m going to work out,” Suzanne said.
“Good for you,” Judith responded. “Enjoy your stay.”
Suzanne didn’t reply.
/> As soon as she turned onto the first landing of the stairs, she saw Dolph Kluger stomping toward her. He was red in the face and perspiring.
“Are you all right?” Judith inquired.
“Yes. No.” The big man edged past Judith and kept going.
It appeared to Judith that Dolph’s visit with “dear Rudi” hadn’t gotten off to a good start.
But she didn’t know that the worst was yet to come.
THREE
RENIE ARRIVED AT five minutes to seven, just as the Kasakis, the Blisses, and the Theobalds were preparing to leave for their individual evening activities.
“I made shrimp dump for dinner,” Renie said. “That way, I knew Bill wouldn’t linger at the dinner table. He loathes it.”
“How could he not?” Judith murmured. “Joe barbecued ribs. The weather’s supposed to get colder over the weekend. This may be one of the last times we can use the outdoor grill.”
“Good,” Renie said. “I love the fall. The leaves are turning.” Renie’s head was turning, too, in the direction of the living room. “I see your other guests are heading out. Where are the partygoers?”
“They gather at seven,” Judith replied. “Everything’s set up.”
“What about the ones staying here?” Renie devoured the lone crab wonton that had been left on the serving tray for the social hour.
“They haven’t come down yet,” Judith replied. “I heard Suzanne Farrow thumping, though.”
“Thumping?”
“She’s been working out. Suzanne is very fit, if somewhat uncommunicative. She may be the strong, silent type.”
“Not musical, then,” Renie remarked.
“No.” Judith stared out through the window over the sink. “For some reason this group makes me uneasy.”
“A foreboding?” Renie inquired, taking a Pepsi out of the fridge.
“Oh—not really. I suppose it’s because Rudi has been so annoying and now he’s going to be under our roof. Maybe I just feel awkward.”
“Understandable. But you can avoid him. Where’s Joe?”
“He went to Gutbusters to get a couple of things,” Judith replied.