During the past twenty-four months, I’d become intimately acquainted with the stages of grief. After spending a little time in denial and isolation, avoiding people and places, pretty soon I moved on to irrational anger. I stayed angry for a long time at Robert for leaving me alone, not that he invited the drunk driver to hit him. I skipped over the bargaining part, and settled into a low-level depression for months. Now, finally, after nearly two years, I wasn’t totally ready for acceptance, but I could see it from where I was standing.
Two years in exactly six more days, a date I was trying hard to ignore.
When my phone vibrated, I excused myself. I didn’t recognize the number, but had been answering unknown numbers for days in preparation for the party, talking with family and old friends of my parents. So I readily answered.
“Vicki, baby, I’m so glad I reached you.”
I instantly realized the number must have been a new one for my cousin, Manny Much—so named for his habit of marrying more wives than you could count on one hand—who loved recruiting us for the latest multilevel marketing program du jour.
Already trying to think of nice ways to end the call, I restrained a groan of frustration and said, “Hi, Manny.”
“Hey, Vicki, tell your parents congrats for me. So is this a Halloween-themed anniversary party? I mean, this is the last Friday in October, after all.” He snorted a laugh. He was pretty funny—in his own mind, at least.
“Just a boring wedding reception theme, I’m afraid. How are you, Manny?”
“Looking forward to meeting the woman of my dreams.”
He was always looking forward to meeting that elusive female, and I hoped he wouldn’t be asking me again to line him up with one of my friends. “Good luck finding her.”
“I’d be there tonight, you know I would, but I have a presentation in five minutes. And that reminds me. I really want to talk to you about an awesome ground-floor opportunity, and this one is the real deal.”
Yet another of Manny’s “real deals.” How could I possibly resist?
I saw Camille stand up as she talked to her mother. That gave me the perfect solution of how to end the call. I turned around and told Manny a little white lie. “Hey, Manny, I’ve got to go. It looks like Camille is getting ready to sing.”
Having heard Camille’s singing at another family gathering, Manny was quick to reply, “Oh, man, that’s a disaster just waiting to happen. Hurry! You must stop her!”
He hung up and I closed my phone, smiling at the blessed silence.
Suddenly, the loudspeaker music stopped, piano notes filled the air, and I turned back just as Camille changed my little, white lie into the truth.
I had to give her an A for enthusiasm, but voice lessons alone just couldn’t overcome the fingernails-scraping-on-the-chalkboard quality of her pitch.
I was prepared for a very long night.
Chapter Two
IT TOOK TEN MINUTES TO entice Camille away from the mic with a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Thankfully, the speakers played pleasing music again.
As more people entered the gymnasium and stepped to the back of the line, I continued to wave and greet people I’d known my entire life, one of the benefits of living in a smaller town.
I saw Paul’s friend, Morgan, who often joined my brother in tormenting us on countless campouts. And Monica Bailey, who cooked at the Moose Muffin Café when I waitressed, and was still creating masterpieces for homespun tastebuds. I saw the retired doctor, who not only delivered Liz and me, but also my mother.
And DeWayne Smith and his mother, Ellen.
DeWayne was our brother, Paul’s, one and only police officer for years, right up until Paul hired a second officer just a few weeks ago. DeWayne’s grin appeared the instant he caught sight of Liz. He dated her in high school and never really got over her. Seeing her again, when the murder at the Inn occurred last month, seemed to rekindle the flame he carried for her.
I was pretty sure DeWayne would never cheat on a wife; he’d be true blue. But, in his case, nice guys did finish last. He never got married. He dated Olivia Castleton for a few years, but she wasn’t here with him now and I had heard it was over between them. No doubt, she preferred a man who wasn’t still pining for another woman.
DeWayne’s mother joined the line of well-wishers, but DeWayne made a beeline for my sister. I was standing closer, however, so he reached me first and gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Hi, Vicki.”
“Hi, DeWayne.” As always, the man knew the difference between us, despite our identical haircuts.
Turning to Liz, he did the same arm-over-shoulder move, but on Liz, it looked more like a hug. “Hi, Liz. How are you?”
Liz shrugged. “I’m doing well.”
Liar. She was still pale and looked strained.
DeWayne glanced at me and raised an eyebrow. I smiled sweetly. He nodded and reluctantly removed his arm off her shoulders. Then we chatted and watched people.
Aunt Eulene hugged us.
Zach left to serve more refreshments, and somehow managed to snatch a few brownies on the way.
Our nephew, Scott, was the grandson my parents recently brought home from a two-year church mission in Spain a month ago. At the time, Scott’s mother, my sister, Joannie, was having emergency gallbladder surgery. They planned the trip months before, but weren’t able to get a refund on Joannie’s or her husband’s tickets. So my parents went to Spain to get him.
When DeWayne’s mother moved closer to the front of the line, he excused himself to join her.
As I watched him walk across the gymnasium floor, I impulsively asked, “Do you ever wish you married DeWayne instead of Gene?”
“I’m not DeWayne’s type.” She picked up a cookie and popped a little piece in her mouth.
Liar. “Whatever. You are exactly his type.”
“DeWayne’s a great guy and a good friend,” she admitted before promptly changing the subject. “Remember how much fun we had in high school when people didn’t know who we were? Especially when we switched classes. I’m enjoying myself. I want to take you to town and buy us identical outfits tomorrow morning.”
I snorted. “Couldn’t be any worse than having my own son not recognize me.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t cool.”
I looked around the room at the guests. “Look at all these people—all the lives our parents have touched.”
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Liz sounded wistful. “It’s hard to imagine that many decades of being married to the same person.”
I would have been married for—Oh, no! I was definitely not going there. Tonight was a celebration of my parents’ marriage, not a time to mourn the premature ending of my own.
Sensing my pain, Liz looked over. “Are you okay?”
“I’m going to the cemetery next Thursday. It’s the anniversary of when Robert…” My voice faded and I closed my eyes. As my sister took my hand, I sighed and said, “I’ll either ask Jennifer to bring Zach out afterward, or just go back and get him. That way, I can center myself a little before he arrives. But I could really use some moral support when I go.” Jennifer was Paul’s wife.
“Of course, honey. I’ll need to check my court schedule, but I’ll go with you if I can. What time?”
“About ten in the morning.”
A man standing by the outer door caught my eye. He was at least six feet tall, dark-haired, and dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. He was facing away from me. From the back, however, at first glance, he looked like Gene.
Liz’s husband showed up?
Liz must have heard my slight gasp. “What?”
“Gene is here!”
Her eyes darted immediately toward where I motioned, while I prayed he wouldn’t cause any problems with Liz during the party. Or she with him.
“No.” Liz shook her head and turned back to me. “It’s just Lamont.”
“Really?” As the man turned to face us, I could see she was right. It was definitely Lamont Wi
lliams, Gene’s cousin and former partner in the real estate business.
“I can’t tell the three of them apart,” I said, referring to Gene, his brother, Jeff, and their cousin, Lamont, who was also Gene’s business partner until they amicably split the business last year and separated the two offices. The three of them shared an uncanny family resemblance, but Jeff and Gene had brown eyes, while Lamont’s were blue.
Gene and Lamont roomed together at the University of Utah and played on the football team. Best friends as well as cousins, they double-dated with their wives regularly, although I suspected Liz would be excluded from their future get-togethers. “You’re right. They have similar athletic builds, so seeing him from the back I thought…”
Lamont headed for the end of the line as Liz said, “Gene wouldn’t be caught dead wearing jeans. He only shops at the most exclusive designer shops. That made having his wallet stolen a year ago extra hard on him: he couldn’t buy pretty clothes for a few days until the new credit cards were made up.”
“Whatever came of that, anyway? Did they find out who stole it?”
“No. But it was a royal hassle for Gene to get a new license and duplicates of everything he needed.”
“Do the four of you still get together?”
Liz shook her head. “I’m never invited. Lamont’s wife left him about a year ago to go back east and live with her family, but then moved back in with him a month or so later. I never knew what caused that rift.”
“Oh, I didn’t hear that. I hate to see any marriage come to an end.” I shook my head. “I guess if I could so easily mistake two cousins, I should stop getting so irritated when people mistake us.”
“We do happen to be identical twins with the same haircut. Enjoy, Red.”
“Liz! Vicki! It’s so good to see you!” Liz and I both turned to find another high school friend, Tiffany Marrett, closing in.
She hugged me and said, “Liz, it’s been forever.”
Then she hugged Liz and said, “And Vicki, you look fabulous.”
She sounded so surprised, I wanted to smack her; but Liz just grinned and winked at me, not wanting to correct our friend’s mistake. Our old caught-a-fish game, where we would see how long we could go without a person realizing they were talking to the wrong twin.
Liz may have been enjoying herself, but I was definitely irritated.
The haircut was unquestionably a mistake.
~ ~ ~
Thirty minutes later, Liz excused herself to go to the bathroom, and I joined Paul, Jennifer, and DeWayne, who was holding the newest member of Paul’s family, adorable, little, one-month-old Amber.
“Ah, I fondly remember just last month, when you thought you were having a son,” I teased my brother. “Guess you guys will have to have a fourth child, hoping for a boy.”
Paul smirked. “I’ve decided I love my family of beautiful girls. Four, including their beautiful mother.”
“Aw, thanks, sweetie. Especially about not having any more children.” Jennifer put an arm around him and smiled sweetly. “If you’d answered differently, I might have had to do serious damage to your handsome face.”
He laughed. “Beautiful inside and out, I might add.”
It was fun watching DeWayne make faces and coo. I always thought he’d make a good daddy. I wondered why he never married. Well, actually, I knew why. Lack of Liz. But surely, he couldn’t wait forever for my sister.
Here he was, the same age as Liz and I, twenty-seven. Reasonably attractive. Good job as a Silver City policeman. And a genuinely nice man.
It really was time DeWayne found a good woman and settled down. I hated to see Liz getting divorced, but since Gene cheated and they were going through with it, I hoped it would at least end up being blessings in disguise. If they did divorce, I would love to see Liz and DeWayne end up together.
Crystal Maynard—a high school acquaintance I hadn’t seen for several years—was headed our way with an adorable little girl in tow.
When she reached our table, she asked sweetly, “Do you mind if my daughter and I join you?” and we all said collectively, of course we didn’t mind.
DeWayne glanced up at her, and I noticed how his gaze lingered. I couldn’t blame him. Her cleavage was on display and her slender thighs were advertised by a black miniskirt. She looked paler than in high school, but as a single mom, myself, I knew jobs often took tanning time away.
When we graduated from high school, Crystal left town, without looking back, according to the gossip at the Round Table in the Moose Muffin Café. Then last month, I heard she was back in town—divorced with a small child in tow. Now here she was, sitting at our table, and obviously still a firm believer in the if-you’ve-got-it-flaunt-it philosophy.
She wasn’t exactly the kind of good woman I had in mind for DeWayne, but it only took a matter of seconds for me to realize that Crystal had designs on him. DeWayne Smith, police officer and all-around nice guy. When she smiled at him, it was impossible to miss the flirtatious look on her face. She may have courteously said hello to all of us, but after that, her eyes were fastened on DeWayne. She sat next to him, pulling her little daughter onto her lap.
DeWayne was the quiet type, and I’d known him long enough to know how shy he was. Having gone to high school with us, Crystal knew him well, too. She also apparently knew that when speaking to DeWayne, you had to hold up your end of the conversation. She went on about being back in town after her divorce, and her daddy getting a job for her at the Moose Muffin Café.
My sister-in-law, Jennifer, asked about the little girl.
“This is Emily,” Crystal said with a proud smile that softened me a little toward her. Her daughter couldn’t be more than four, and her hair was neatly arranged in fancy curls. She wore pink from head to toe, while her mother wore black, and they were both beautiful. “I tried to talk her into watching the movie, but she wanted to stay with me.”
The younger children were being entertained in the primary room with a movie, with some young women keeping watch.
“Hi, Emily. You’re a cutie,” Jennifer said and the girl shyly leaned into her mother. Looking at Crystal, Jennifer said, “Our girls are watching it. Parent Trap is one of their favorites.”
“The original?” asked Crystal. “Or the Dennis Quaid remake?”
“Original,” I said. “Always the best version.”
Crystal smiled. “It was such a silly movie, but I loved them whacking the sticks. And I bet you two loved all the twin stuff.”
“Like refusing to say which twin they were,” Liz said. “Yup.”
Jennifer nodded. “My favorite part was the honey on the toes.”
“And that silly, silly song.” I glanced around the room to keep track of my son. He was sitting at another table with two cousins and David Weston—one of the two guys recently showing some interest in me. In front of Zach was a plate heaped high with brownies and cookies, as well as a glass of punch to wash them down.
Fairly new to Silver City, David Weston was a hotshot reporter working for the small-time Silver City Sentinel. He seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time at my Who-Dun-Him Inn, even considering his current moonlighting gig as my interim chef.
As if sensing my gaze, David looked up and caught my eye, smiling lazily.
My insides tingled and I couldn’t help smiling back.
After a long pause and a wink, he turned to the boys, and soon, the four of them were laughing. I wondered if Zach was sharing his silly, seven-year-old jokes with them.
Lonny Singer—David’s younger competition—joined us, pulling up a chair beside me. I tried to ignore David’s intense glare at Lonny. David shifted in his chair, still staring at Lonny while he talked with the boys.
A long-time friend of our family, and a few years younger than I, Lonny used to follow me around my family’s Ross Mansion, which was now my Who-Dun-Him Inn. He often dragged his teddy bear behind him, but proved to be an attractive and steady man last month when we had a m
urderer snowed in with us during the worst blizzard in twenty years. He grew into something of a teddy bear, himself—a handsome, muscular, warmhearted teddy bear, who tacitly invited you to cuddle up next to him for security.
Keeping his gaze on Lonny, David was the opposite of a teddy bear. He was a nice guy, too, but there was an intangible danger of the unknown about him. David was more tiger than teddy.
I wasn’t quite sure how to handle either a teddy or a tiger, having become pretty rusty at the whole male/female thing.
Paul reached out to take his baby back from DeWayne. It was fun watching my brother be a good daddy, too.
“You weren’t nearly so kind and gentle with Liz and me,” I commented, watching David stand up and turn toward me. I looked back at Paul.
“Heck, no,” Lonny said. “I remember them telling me about the time you tied them up and threatened to burn them at the stake.”
Paul cooed at his baby, his third child after Trisha and Amy, and said, in baby talk, “And I would have gotten away with it, too, if the girls hadn’t been such big crybabies. Amber doesn’t want to grow up to be a big crybaby, does she?” he cooed.
“I figured we were goners that day. Poof! Up in smoke.” I watched a young man enter the room. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Nudging Lonny, I asked, “Who’s that?”
Everyone looked over. Lonny said, “Matt Borman. His dad owns all the property up Sidewinder’s Gulch. A good part of the mountainside, actually.”
“How does Matt know our parents?”
“Everyone knows your family and everyone in it.” Lonny laughed. “Especially your grandmother.”
I felt sure he was right. Everyone in Silver City, nearby Park City, and even parts of neighboring Salt Lake City, I’m sure, knew about Naomi Ross and her flamboyant personality and reputation. Most people were amused by her. Usually, I was, too. Liz was the one she drove crazy because she and Grandma were so much alike—but tonight, our roles seemed to have been reversed.
Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 02 - Inn the Doghouse Page 2