by Mary Daheim
Renie laughed. “Nobody gets ‘a couple of things’ at Gutbusters. You know it’s all about volume discounts. Joe’ll need a truck to bring everything home. That’s why I hardly ever go there. I end up with enough shampoo and soda crackers to last until doomsday. The last time I was there I found a real bargain on bat bait and got six packages.”
“We don’t have bats around here,” Judith pointed out.
“I know,” Renie said with a sigh.
“He’s buying Mother’s Uncle Tom’s fiber cereal. Gutbusters is one of the few places around here where you can get it,” Judith explained. “Mother eats it to keep regular.”
“So does my mom,” Renie said between sips of Pepsi. “I found a store across the lake that carries it and bought a bunch of boxes. I was meeting a client over there. In the days when I had clients,” she added with a wistful expression.
Judith jumped at the sound of the doorbell. “Here comes somebody. It’s straight up seven o’clock. Maybe it’s Taryn. Or Elsa.”
“Who’s Elsa?” Renie asked as Judith exited the kitchen.
“The first Mrs. Wittener,” Judith said over her shoulder.
But the caller was neither of the women Judith expected. Instead, a young man with long brown hair and rimless glasses stood on the front porch carrying a big carton. Judith opened the door.
“Hi,” he said in greeting. “I’m Fritz Wittener, Rudi’s son. I’ve got a bunch of party stuff.”
Judith introduced herself. “You can put the box on the buffet in the living room,” she said. “How soon are the others coming?”
Fritz shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Whenever. Pa doesn’t like to be rushed, and Ma’s still organizing.”
“Organizing?” Judith repeated.
Fritz nodded. “That’s Ma’s thing. She organizes.”
Before Judith could inquire further, Renie wandered into the living room. “Do you live nearby?” Renie asked after Judith introduced her.
He nodded in an offhand manner while removing a chafing dish, a covered tray, and several liquor bottles from the carton. “Got ice?”
“Yes,” Judith answered. “I keep plenty on hand.”
Fritz nodded again as he placed the various liquor bottles on the buffet. “Got any beer? I don’t drink this other stuff. I guess Ma considers beer lower-class. It wasn’t on the list.”
“Yes,” Judith repeated. “I’ve got Miller light, a couple of microbrews, and I think there’s some Red Stripe. I’ll check.”
“No rush.” He placed two boxes of crackers on the buffet. “Where’s the cheese plate?” He spoke to himself as he unwrapped the tray. “That’s vegetables and dip. Maybe Olive’s bringing the cheese.”
Judith shot him a curious look. “Olive?”
“Olive is Pa’s assistant,” Fritz replied. “She lives in an apartment around here someplace.”
The doorbell sounded again. Renie, who had been standing halfway into the living room, volunteered to admit the newcomer. Judith heard Taryn’s tense voice. “Are you the maid?” she asked Renie.
“I was,” Renie replied, “but I quit. Mrs. Flynn wouldn’t feed me.”
Judith had gone into the entry hall. “This is Serena Jones, my cousin,” Judith explained. “Taryn Moss, our neighbor.”
Taryn smiled fleetingly at Renie. Carrying two grocery bags, she moved quickly into the living room. She was dressed with casual elegance, an ecru peasant blouse and dark green velvet pants. Her only jewelry was a pair of gold studs in her perfect ears. “You’ve done a good job, Fritz,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” Fritz said, lounging on the sofa. “Are Pa and Ma still alive?”
“Of course!” Taryn’s laugh was hollow. “You know perfectly well that despite the divorce they’re on good terms.”
Fritz looked at Taryn over the top of his glasses. “Right. They’re tight. It’s great.” The words didn’t carry much conviction.
Judith had a feeling that Taryn’s assertion had been made for her—and for Renie’s—benefit. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us,” she said, giving Renie a nudge.
They were halfway through the entry hall when Suzanne Farrow came down the stairs. She was dressed very simply, in black silk slacks and a matching tailored blouse. Nodding at the cousins, she proceeded into the living room.
“Hello, you two,” she said to Fritz and Taryn.
Judith heard the pair reply in monosyllables. Suzanne spoke again, more sharply. “Well, Fritz? How about a kiss?”
“Ahhh…” The young man sounded ill at ease. A pause ensued.
“Thank you,” Suzanne said. Silence followed.
“Not a very cheerful bunch so far,” Renie remarked when the cousins were back in the kitchen. “It’s a good thing you’re not responsible for them having fun.”
“Fun,” Judith repeated. “It’s not a concept I’m associating with them so far. Don’t you sense a certain lack of congeniality?”
“As opposed to animosity, hatred, and hostility?”
“Yes. Or maybe I’m imagining things,” she said, hearing someone else at the front door. Before she could get to the dining room, Taryn admitted the newcomer.
“You forgot the caviar and the eggs and the bread for toast points,” Elsa said in an accusing voice.
“Oh!” Taryn exclaimed. “Let me take them into the—”
“Never mind,” Elsa snapped. “I’ll do it myself.”
She breezed into the kitchen, nodding curtly at Judith and Renie. “I need a toaster,” she announced.
“What’s a toaster?” Renie asked, a puzzled look on her face.
“Excuse me?” Elsa retorted.
Judith was already standing by the toaster. “It’s right here. It holds four slices.” She glanced at Renie. “This is my cousin Serena—”
“I’ll need all four.” Elsa ignored Renie, her keen eyes fixed on the toaster. “I’ll wait until the others arrive. What else did Taryn forget?”
Judith realized Elsa wasn’t addressing anybody except herself. “How many people are coming?” she asked.
“What?” Elsa turned sharply. “Eight. Didn’t Taryn inform you?”
“She told me it would be a small gathering,” Judith replied, feeling a need to defend Taryn.
“She’s very imprecise,” Elsa said, and left the kitchen just as Dolph and Andrea Kluger came downstairs.
“Eight, huh?” Renie looked disgusted. “So no symphony bigwigs. Rudi’s my only hope of making a connection, and he’s a newcomer. Drat. Opportunity doesn’t knock.”
Judith was ticking off the number of guests in her head. The Klugers, plus Suzanne; Rudi and Taryn; Elsa and Fritz; Olive the Assistant. Perfectly ordinary people, really. So why, she wondered, did she feel on edge?
Faintly, she overheard Elsa greet the Klugers. Or at least she heard Dolph’s booming voice, exclaiming with delight. Andrea and Elsa’s words couldn’t be heard from the kitchen. Indeed, Elsa scarcely spoke at all before the trio went into the living room.
Renie ogled the caviar on the counter. “Tell me about Dolph.”
“Dolph is Rudi’s mentor,” Judith replied. “I assume he was his teacher and has guided Rudi in his career.”
“Rudi’s not exactly a star on the concert circuit,” Renie pointed out. “I mean, you have to be talented to play in a major symphony orchestra, but that’s a far cry from being a concert soloist.”
Judith shrugged. “You know more about that than I do.”
Renie looked thoughtful. “Sometimes it depends on the personality, not the talent. Real stars have to be willing to get up in public, all alone on the stage, and take great risks. Self-confidence—ego, if you will—is as important as raw ability. Rudi might be able to play like Paganini, but that doesn’t mean he was ever driven to become a concert violinist. It’s safer to get lost in a crowd. If you screw up, it doesn’t show as much. The audience may not notice and the critics won’t savage you.”
“I never thought of it that way,�
�� Judith admitted. “My only encounter with a world-famous music star was when that unfortunate tenor stayed here.”
Renie’s expression was noncommittal. “Yes.” It was clear that she didn’t want to upset her cousin by recalling the circumstances of the tenor’s onstage demise.
A flustered Taryn entered the kitchen. “Elsa says I must make the toast for the caviar.” She espied the toaster. “Where’s the bread?”
Judith indicated a Falstaff’s grocery bag that Elsa had left on the counter. “In there?”
“Oh!” Taryn smiled uncertainly. “Of course. The hardboiled egg garnish is here, too.” With nervous fingers, she opened the packaging on the loaf of bread and removed four slices. “Elsa’s so efficient. And organized. I suppose it comes from working in that bookstore.”
“Elsa works in a bookstore?” Judith asked.
“Yes,” Taryn replied, putting the bread into the toaster slots. “She worked at one of the big chains for years in New York, but just switched jobs. She and Fritz moved to Heraldsgate Hill this summer. Elsa got lucky. There was an opening at the bookstore on top of the hill.”
“I haven’t been in there for a while,” Judith confessed. “I’m an ex-librarian. I tend to borrow, not buy, books.”
“Shame on you,” Renie admonished. “It’s a nice store. I bought a book for one of our kids up there a week or so ago. They had it shipped to Guam. But I didn’t see Elsa. At least I don’t remember her.”
“It might have been her day off,” Taryn said, preparing the caviar and eggs. The four pieces of bread popped up. “No butter, right? Oops!” She dropped a toast slice on the floor.
“Don’t worry,” Judith soothed. “The floor’s clean. Nobody will know the difference.” All the same, she was glad this wasn’t an official guest. Judith didn’t want her clientele to think she regularly scooped their food off of the floor, no matter how assiduously Phyliss cleaned it.
Taryn assembled the caviar plate and took it into the living room. Judith shook her head. “She’s always struck me as fairly composed. Taryn’s been the voice of reason in our battles over Rudi’s violin playing. But Elsa seems to have an unsettling effect on her.”
“No wonder,” Renie remarked. “Ex-wives can make current girlfriends nervous. Elsa would unsettle me if I had to be around her much.” She gazed inquiringly at Judith, who was rearranging the spice rack. “Frankly, you look a little unsettled yourself.”
“Me?” Judith stopped herself from putting a hand to her mouth. She’d been a nail-biter as a child, and every so often the old habit tried to reassert itself. “Well—a little. That is, there’s something volatile about this situation. Or awkward, at least. Maybe it’s just because I’ve had those run-ins with Rudi.”
“That’s probably what’s bothering you. You should make a brief appearance to show him you don’t hold a grudge.”
Resolutely, Judith put both hands behind her back. “I’ll do that when they’re ready to leave.”
Renie stretched and yawned. “I should go home. I can’t make any headway with this crew.”
Judith glanced at the schoolhouse clock. Its clicking metal hands informed her it was seven thirty-five. “You’re going to abandon me?” she said in a tone of reproach.
Renie shrugged. “Why do you have to hang around the kitchen? Aren’t they self-sufficient with Elsa in charge?”
“I still feel responsible,” Judith said. “Ordinarily, I’d spend the evening in the family quarters because the guests are usually out and about. But this is different. Besides, I want to make sure I get paid. Taryn hasn’t given me a check yet.”
“Ah, yes. Getting paid. I barely remember how that feels.”
“We could bring Mother in and play three-handed pinochle,” Judith suggested.
“No thanks,” Renie replied. “She’ll want to play for a quarter and I can’t afford it. She always wins.”
Renie, however, made no immediate move to leave. In the silence that fell between the cousins, the clock ticked on. Tick-tock, tick-tock. Judith’s apprehension was moving up the scale as the clock ticked and clicked the night away. “I don’t hear any heated exchanges, so they must be getting along,” she pointed out. “They seem quite civilized.”
“The only one I can hear is Dolph,” Renie said. “An occasional bellow or hearty laugh.”
“Maybe they plan on going out to dinner,” Judith said, cleaning up toast crumbs. She felt a need to keep busy. Tick-tock, tick-tock. For some reason, the old clock seemed unusually loud. “I didn’t see Olive come in, did you?” she asked her cousin.
“No,” Renie replied, still not moving from the table. “Dammit, coz, now you’ve got me on edge.”
“I think I’ll take a peek.” Judith moved quietly out of the kitchen, through the dining room, and into the entry hall. To excuse her presence, she paused to check the guest registration. Holding the leather-bound book in her hands, she glanced into the living room.
Rudi and Dolph were chatting by the buffet. Their conversation seemed intimate, as if they were the only two people in the room. Rudi wasn’t as tall or as broad as his mentor, but he was broad-shouldered and his eyes were blue, the color of a mountain lake.
Suzanne and Fritz were on the window seat, though they didn’t seem to be conversing. In fact, Fritz was edging away from Suzanne. He reached the far corner, pressing up against a throw pillow. Suzanne frowned as she took a sip from her wineglass.
Elsa was on one of the sofas, cradling a large snifter and talking earnestly to a plump, gray-haired woman Judith assumed was Olive the Assistant. Olive sat stiffly, her face expressionless. She looked as if her thoughts were miles away until Elsa poked her in the shoulder.
“Well?” she said, her sharp voice carrying into the entry hall as she pointed to a nineteenth-century German plate on the oak rail above the fireplace. “Is that real or a reproduction?”
Olive glanced upward. The plate, featuring painted tulips, had belonged to one of Judith’s great-aunts. The assistant murmured her reply, which Judith couldn’t hear.
Elsa looked annoyed. “You ought to know. You’re the expert.”
Olive nibbled on some cheese and didn’t respond.
Judith’s gaze shifted to Taryn, who was moving nervously around the room, apparently making sure that the guests had ample food and drink. None of the visitors seemed to notice Judith. She replaced the guest registry and returned to the kitchen.
“No high hilarity,” she reported to Renie, “but no apparent animosity, either.”
Taryn reappeared a moment later. “Fritz would like a beer. I’m sorry, I didn’t bring any. He told me you had some Red Stripe.”
“Sure,” Judith said. “I’ll get it from the fridge.”
“Thank you.” Taryn moistened her lips. “I feel so stupid. I keep forgetting that Fritz is over legal drinking age, and I didn’t think to ask—”
“Really,” Judith interrupted, handing Taryn the bottle of Red Stripe, “it’s fine. Don’t even consider putting it on your bill.”
“Are you sure?”
Judith nodded. Taryn thanked her again and left the kitchen.
“I thought,” Judith said after her guest had gone, “she might pony up the check at that point.”
“You know where to find her,” Renie said, finishing her Pepsi and finally getting up from the chair.
“You’re really going?” Judith asked, looking disappointed.
“I might as well, coz. Contrary to your furrowed brow, it doesn’t seem like anything odd is going to happen. Besides,” Renie went on, collecting her purse, “I parked in your driveway. When Joe comes home with his crates and barrels from Gutbusters, he’ll want to pull in closer to the house. I’d better get out of the way.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Judith started walking with Renie down the narrow hallway that led to the back door. “I’m sorry the party was a bust as far as you’re concerned.”
“Frankly, it sounds like a bust for the partygoers,” Renie
said. “I’ve never heard any group having less fun.” She stopped in midstep, almost forcing Judith to collide with her. “Until now. What was that?”
Judith felt a tingling along her spine. “A thud—or a clunk?”
The cousins remained in the hallway, mouths shut, ears alert. At first, they heard only the ticking clock. Then a woman’s cry and a man’s shout came from the direction of the living room. Judith and Renie whirled around, hurrying to the source of the commotion.
Everyone—except Suzanne, who was leaning against the armoire—was crowded between the matching sofas in front of the fireplace.
“Call a doctor!” Dolph shouted.
“What’s wrong?” Judith asked, moving closer to the group.
“It’s Elsa,” Rudi said, staring downward. “She passed out.”
“A doctor!” Dolph cried. “We must have a doctor!”
Despite a sense that her worst fears had been justified, Judith spoke calmly. “Please—everyone should move away.”
Bewildered, the others seemed to recognize the authority in Judith’s voice. Slowly, they obeyed except for Fritz, who refused to leave his mother’s side. Elsa was awkwardly lying half on and half off the sofa, her fall caught by the coffee table’s edge. Judith’s worst fear almost overcame her. But she had to be sure. Cautiously, she moved toward the unconscious woman and took hold of her wrist.
“There’s a pulse,” Judith said. Thank God, she thought.
Renie was near the cherrywood table where the telephone was stationed. “I’ll call 911,” she said.
“Yes,” Judith agreed. “She may have merely fainted, but we don’t want to take chances.”
“A doctor!” Dolph repeated, very red in the face as he was pushed toward an easy chair by Andrea. “We must have a doctor!”
“The medics are very capable,” Judith declared.
“He means,” Andrea said, “for himself. It may be his heart.”
“The medics can handle that, too,” Judith responded.
“Brandy,” Dolph said, his voice now hoarse.
“Yes, of course,” Andrea replied. “Dolph’s cure-all,” she murmured in an aside to Olive the Assistant, who had planted her plump little body by the buffet.