Kiss Them Goodbye

by Stella Cameron

  He crossed his arms and jutted his chin. “Likely to happen? What makes you think it hasn’t already happened? They’re off in New Orleans together today. Alone. Spike wasn’t about to tell me what that was all about but I can guess.”

  She chuckled. “They’re there on business. Spike’s helping Vivian deal with some legal things. You men, you’re all alike. You can’t imagine that one of you doesn’t have an ulterior motive for wanting to spend time with a woman.”

  “Can you?” He gave her a steady blue stare.

  ”Yes,” Charlotte said. “They like each other.” But although she wouldn’t admit it to Homer, she also figured Vivian and Spike were smitten.

  “If you say so. Will you help me make sure they don’t go beyond likin’?”

  She studied the backs of her hands and unvarnished nails.

  “Will you?” he pressed her.

  “What if they could be good for each other?”

  “You want to risk what will happen if they get in up to their necks then change their minds?”

  She did see the way Homer’s mind was working and how much of his concern came from prior experiences with women. “Vivian’s had it with the city,” she told him. “She wants to be here. She likes the small-town feeling—the isolation, even. I don’t know what’s likely to come of the two of them, but I’m not moved to interfere with anyone’s chance for happiness.”

  “He finished college,” Homer said as if distracted. “Wanted to go back for another one of those degrees and go into the FBI. Somethin’ to do with computer crime.”

  “He’s still got plenty of time to go back.” She was learning a lot and not disliking much of it.

  Homer shook his head. “You don’t understand. I know you love your girl and I love my boy. If you won’t help me on account of you don’t want your daughter takin’ up with a man who’s carryin’ too much baggage and who’ll make her want to fish in other waters when she gets tired of the routine, do it for Spike. He’s not your concern, but I don’t think you’d want him to go through what happened to him before.”

  Charlotte made up her mind what to say. “I’ll join forces with you to keep a watch on our kids,” she said. She couldn’t just turn him away, even if she didn’t agree with him. “And if I see anything I think we need to worry about, I’ll tell you.”

  She got the stubborn jut of his chin again. He said, “You gonna tell the big mouths in Toussaint to mind their own business when they say Spike’s above himself?”

  Charlotte squared her shoulders. “I surely will if I ever hear it. That son of yours is any man’s equal. Homer, this could pass. Let’s just give them a chance and trust them. I know Vivian wouldn’t do anything to hurt Spike or Wendy. And Spike’s solid, I already believe that.”

  “And others will make sure it doesn’t work for them. Mark my words. That girl of yours is smart and beautiful. Someone with more to offer than Spike will come along—” he scrubbed at his face “—I’m not goin’ to let my boy get hurt again.”

  The response Charlotte prepared to give wasn’t likely to make peace between her and Homer, but Wendy ran into the room in time to interrupt. “That funny lady from Wally’s hotel is here,” she said. “In the kitchen with Thea. I came away ’cause I knew you’d want me to, Gramps.”

  “Wazoo, or whatever her name is?” Charlotte said.

  “Must be,” Homer said. “Now, Wendy, you’ve been listenin’ to gossip. There’s nothin’ wrong with that little woman that wouldn’t be cured by some kindness. I’d best get on, Miz Charlotte. Keep what I’ve said in mind.”

  “Oh, I will.” It would be easier to discount his suggestions if he didn’t show so many flashes of wisdom.

  Wendy planted herself in front of Charlotte and said, “Your house is, is, is like in a movie. Rich people live here and there’s important stuff all over. I like it.”

  “Then come back whenever you can,” Charlotte said, choosing not to tell the child she was wrong about the “rich” bit.

  Homer had his granddaughter’s small hand enclosed in his own large, work-scarred one. “We’re not the kind to push ourselves.” he said. “Thank you for the tea.”

  Stubborn critter.

  On the way toward the front door, Wendy swiveled to walk backward. “Thank you for the lemonade and cookies, ma’am.”

  “You are more welcome than you know.”

  Homer stopped at the door he’d opened and turned back. “I’m still a fair carpenter and I like the practice. If there’s somethin’ needs done here, just ask.”

  Homer had barely closed the door, leaving Charlotte with a strange tightness in her throat, when Wazoo tiptoed as far as the entrance to the room and tapped the doorjamb. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I hope you talk to me.”

  What an afternoon. “Come on in,” Charlotte said. “Wendy Devol said you were out there with Thea.”

  “We friends, now,” Wazoo said. She actually looked less wild than usual and had tied her hair back with a red ribbon. “Thea, Doll Hibbs and me.” She smiled, turning an already lovely face into a brilliant thing with flashing eyes. “Not much alike, huh? Sometimes that’s good.”

  “Yes,” Charlotte agreed, waiting for the real reason for this visit.

  “I need a job, me,” Wazoo said, all seriousness again. “Some folks don’t like a psychic around and if that’s you, I understand. But I know you lookin’ for more help and I work hard. Do anythin’.”

  At a loss, Charlotte said, “But wouldn’t that interfere with your other work?”

  Wazoo’s gaze didn’t waver. “Business is bad. The hotel cost too much and I gotta move, but still I need a steady job.”

  She had, Charlotte noted, exchanged her jet-studded sandals for a pair of sneakers that did nothing for the outfit. But the sneakers were clean and practical.

  “Gator and Doll will be disappointed,” Charlotte said.

  Wazoo shrugged. “They gettin’ ready to rent to some students comin’ to study somethin’ to do with sugarcane. They make more money from them.”

  “You’re saying you’ll do anything?”

  “Clean. Work in the gardens. Fix the cars—I’m good with cars, me. Help with painting or repairs. Anythin’. And I am reliable, me. Don’t seem so if you don’t understand me, but it true.”

  More money to go out, but there was no doubt she and Vivian were desperate for help. “Do you have references?”

  Wazoo shook her head. “But people here will say Wazoo honest and kind. And they know I can work because I do odd jobs when I get them.”

  No references. “Okay, how about this. I’ll give you a trial. Thea will tell you what she wants done and I’ll be asking you to do things, too. Can you work for several bosses?”

  Wazoo nodded and smiled like a happy child. “Oh, yes, oh, for sure. I start now?”

  Charlotte prepared to tell her to wait for Monday, then wondered why any time should be wasted. “Okay, yes. Have you found a place to live? I hope you won’t have to travel too far. Do you have transportation?”

  “I got a van, me, but I can’t afford to run it much. People say things. They say you thinkin’ of rentin’ just a few rooms to get started. Short-term rents they call ’em. What them gonna cost?”

  “People” meant Thea. Vivian and Charlotte had discussed doing short-term rents but only between themselves and around this house. These freight trains kept barrelling through Charlotte’s life. But why not rent Wazoo a room, at least until she proved it was a bad idea. “That might do very well. You may have to move as the work is done. We’ll work out the rent and we need to talk about your salary. What if you get the room and a smaller paycheck in exchange?”

  Wazoo looked as if she’d won the state lottery and for a moment Charlotte was afraid the woman would kiss her, but Wazoo’s eyes shifted away to the window and Charlotte turned her head to see Susan and Olympia Hurst passing on their way to the front door.

  “I’ll answer for you,” Wazoo said, bubbling.

&n
bsp; Charlotte thought to refuse the offer, but changed her mind. She didn’t have to impress Susan and her offspring, unless it was with the Patin independence. “Thank you, Wazoo.”

  When Susan Hurst recovered from the evident shock of being greeted by Wazoo, she poked around the room. Charlotte wished she could leave at once.

  Olympia Hurst was too old for her behavior. Dressed in a pink sundress that barely covered her panties and which laced at the top to reveal a good deal of her large breasts, she slid into a scarlet silk slipper chair and propped her hands behind her head.

  “Olympia,” Susan chided, in the process of examining an old silver box with stones, or pieces of colored glass, studded in the top. “That’s not ladylike. Sit up and pull your dress down. Really darling, you’ve got to learn what to do with that beautiful body of yours if you’re going to reach your full potential.”

  Olympia yawned dramatically and flipped at her long, blond hair. “I know what to do with my body, thank you, Mama. Women of my age usually do. Ability in that direction doesn’t usually fade until much later.”

  Susan ignored her and tried to open the box.

  “It’s locked,” Charlotte said, amused. “Always has been but it doesn’t look like a good place to hide treasure d’you think?”

  “No,” Susan agreed and quickly put the thing down. “Your brother-in-law was really into this jungle thing. He was ahead of the curve. I believe it’s quite popular now. Not my style at all but I expect you’re going to change things here.”

  “We have a lot of planning to do,” Charlotte said, not about to discuss anything private with Susan.

  “Is Vivian here?” Susan asked.

  “No, she’s out for the day. Did you want to talk to her? I’m sure she’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “I was just makin’ conversation.”

  “You know you saw her leave with that sexy Spike Devol,” Olympia said. She’d decided to loosen the lacing on her dress. “Fess up. You’re curious about whether they’re getting it on.”

  “If you can’t behave yourself,” Susan said, “please leave. Go home and help Morgan.”

  “I offered, but Daddy dear said he’s got paperwork to do and doesn’t need me.”

  Charlotte didn’t care for the secret smile that crossed Olympia’s lips.

  “Olympia’s stressed,” Susan said, dropping her red-streaked, brown hair forward, then throwing it back and shaking it into place. “She’s got months of preparing for contests ahead of her and so much work keeping that figure gorgeous and choosing clothes and taking dance lessons. It goes on and on.”

  Olympia looked vacant.

  “I came to talk to you, Charlotte.”

  Why not, everyone else had.

  “Mama, I said I’d keep you company, but not if you’re going to take so long,” Olympia said, yawning again. “Just spit it out about the police.”

  “Oh, dear.” Susan perched her jean-clad bottom on a chair. “Yes, the police. Morgan wouldn’t approve of our being here, but I believe in complete honesty. It’s the best way to get things done. The police searched our house.” Her voice rose, she closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her bosom. “We actually had people in at the time and had to ask them to leave. Can you imagine our embarrassment?”

  There had to be a point when a little pity would come her own way, Charlotte thought. “We’ve been dealing with a lot of that and it’s not pleasant.”

  “Not pleasant?” Susan rolled her eyes and gave her hair another good shake. “Charlotte, we have to talk. Seriously. Would you have dinner with us tomorrow evening? You and Vivian—and her sheriff friend if that’s what she’d like.”

  Olympia’s laughter shot so high that Charlotte winced. “Oh, Mama,” Olympia screeched, pointing a long forefinger. “You old spoof you. If that’s what she’d like. It’s what you’d like.”

  “Will you come?” Susan persisted, ignoring Olympia. “I’d regard it as a favor.”

  Charlotte said, “Yes, of course,” partly to support Susan in the presence of her bratty daughter.

  “Wonderful,” Susan said.

  ”Wonderful,” Olympia echoed. “Make sure you warn Vivian she’d better make sure Spike’s pants stay zipped.”

  Susan walked to her daughter and slapped her face soundly. In the appalling silence that followed, Olympia glared hatred at her mother with dry eyes and didn’t touch the welts forming on her skin.

  “I apologize for my daughter and myself,” Susan said. “I shouldn’t have struck her. We’ll have a good time tomorrow evening, I promise, and I hope we get serious businesses tended to. We must, Charlotte. There isn’t a choice anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” Charlotte asked quietly. “I’m not aware of any business between us, serious or otherwise.”

  Susan stared at Olympia, clearly warning her not to interrupt. “Morgan and I don’t want to take legal action against you for the trouble you’re causing but we will if we must. We think that can be averted. You have needs and we have needs and we think they can complement each other. We believe it would make all of us happy if we bought Rosebank from you.”

  Chapter 21

  They’d decided to have lunch at the Court of Two Sisters. Vivian chose it for old times’ sake, half hoping memories of a prior time there with a prior male interest would help remind her of the reasons she didn’t really like men.

  It wasn’t working.

  It hadn’t had a chance to work once Spike walked into the place as if it were home away from home and Vivian had grown instantly jealous. Ridiculous. Of course the thought that he’d probably brought another woman there didn’t make her jealous.

  Yes, it did. She felt furious. He’d become quiet, pensive. Thinking about her. Who had it been, Jilly? Vivian didn’t think so because Spike and Jilly were buddies and showed no sign of pining for each other romantically.

  Vivian studied Spike covertly. He sat half-sideways in his chair with his arms crossed.

  They were a pair, both pretending no ghosts hovered with them at the wobbly table balanced on uneven courtyard cobbles.

  Vines climbed every concrete patched brick wall and metal arbor. Fountains ran softly and flashed the colors of pale gems in the sunshine. Birds knocked themselves out in the race for crumbs. Spicy scents, a jazz trio playing low enough to stay out of the way but not too low for a little foot tapping, blasts of color, purple, orange and white bougainvillea; a warm bath for the senses. Vivian glanced openly at Spike and he smiled, deepening those smile and squint lines around his impossibly blue eyes.

  “This wouldn’t be a bad moment to stop the clocks, huh?” he said.

  Vivian looked at clear skies and said, “Stop the world, we’ll get off here,” but one thing was missing: peace in her heart. The thrill of wanting this man just about made up for that.

  A sweet-faced black waiter with a web of gray spun over the tips of his hair poured more ice-cold water into their empty glasses. “A drink from the bar?” he asked. “It ain’t too late for the best mimosa in town.”

  “I’m delicate,” Spike said, laughing. “I’ll take an Abita. A good beer is about the best I can do this time of day.”

  Vivian had white wine.

  They chose the buffet and she figured they were both looking to escape their thoughts and put off making more awkward conversation. They walked to loaded tables in the cool interior of the building.

  Vivian was ready first and went back outside, finally starting to relax a little. Who wouldn’t in a place like this?

  She approached the table but stopped several feet away, her heart missing beats. The skin on her face tightened and she felt cold. Slowly, she went closer and stood motionless at her place, unable to sit, unable to as much as swallow. Her plate felt too heavy and her hands shook as if she might drop it.

  Balanced across her silverware lay a single, long-stemmed white rose.

  If her feet would move she’d probably run.

  “Everything I like but shouldn’t have,�
�� Spike said, arriving at the table. “Cyrus says he never met a bad crawfish étouffée. I say he’s sawed off his tastebuds with all those peppers he sucks back. But this is going to be a great one. Would you look at these boulette? Grown-up hush puppies my dad calls ’em.”

  At last he noticed she wasn’t saying a word and still stood in front of her chair. “What is it, cher?” he said, frowning with concern.

  She swallowed several times and pointed at the flower. “Do you think this is funny?”

  Spike looked from her face to the rose. “Me?”

  “Who else but you could have put this here?” She picked up the thorny stem and slid her plate onto the table.

  “Cher, use your head and tell me when I could have put it there.” He looked in all directions, backed from the table to see areas hidden from some angles. He returned and said, “I was at the buffet with you. When could I have put the rose there? And why would I do a sick thing like that?”

  He couldn’t have and she was making a fool of herself. “I sound crazy. Of course you didn’t do it. This is to frighten me, and the reason is because I’m on his radar, the man who killed Louis. I’m being warned. But I don’t know if it’s because he wants me to stop poking around or because he’s going to kill me anyway and wants to terrify me some more first.” She drank water to moisten her dry throat. “Who would have a grudge against me? As far as I know I don’t have any enemies.”

  “It was put there to frighten both of us but we won’t let it work. I keep turning things over in my mind, what little we have, and it doesn’t amount to a hill o’ beans. But I do know we can’t let ourselves be lulled by the passage of time. That happens. The hours and days pass with no more events and you convince yourself things are safer. Vivian, I don’t want you to panic. We already knew we had big trouble, and we pretty much know just how big.”

  “Bonine isn’t doing a thing, is he?”