Lilac Avenue

by Pamela Grandstaff

  “Does Aunt Bonnie know that?”

  “My mother hears what she wants to hear,” Patrick said. “She’ll know it’s true when Melissa gives her notice at the bakery.”

  “You two getting married?”

  “Now why in the world would we want to go and do a stupid thing like that for?”

  “Sorry,” Claire said. “Silly me.”

  “You think Maggie’s going to marry Scott?”

  “I do, why? Do you know something I don’t?”

  “She won’t,” Patrick said. “Not unless someone figures out a way she can do it without my mother on her back.”

  “Hannah wants to plan a surprise wedding,” Claire said.

  “Maggie would kill her,” Patrick said.

  A couple of locals wandered in so Claire put plastic wrap over her lemon and lime sections and left. She decided to take a walk, because she didn’t know what else to do and she didn’t want to go home. If no one was home, she’d only ruminate, and if her father was there, they’d argue. She started up Peony Street toward the library and ran into Sam Campbell, Hannah’s husband, outside the community center. The tent was still up, but everything else had been cleared away.

  “I heard about the salon closing,” he said. “What are you going to do?”

  “Word sure travels fast in this town,” Claire said.

  “When you’re married to the town crier it does,” he said.

  She told him about Anne Marie’s offer to run the health spa.

  “Sounds shady,” he said.

  “It probably is,” Claire said. “How’s the vet rehab going?”

  “The grant we were hoping for probably isn’t coming now,” he said. “It was being shepherded by Congressman Green. All of his earmarks have been canceled.”

  “Will you still be able to run the program?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Just not with new gym equipment.”

  “How much do you need?” she asked.

  “Claire,” he said. “Don’t.”

  “Why not?” she said. “It’s just money.”

  “I don’t want your money,” he said. “You’ve done enough for me and my family.”

  “I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means,” Claire said. “I’m just glad you’re happy.”

  “What’s being happy got to do with anything?”

  “Stop that,” Claire said. “The very least you can do is be happy. The very least.”

  “Okay, Claire,” he said. “I’ll be happy.”

  “Good,” she said, “Now find me a job while you’re at it.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said.

  Claire walked on uphill, and turned right at Morning Glory Avenue rather than left out Possum Holler. Halfway down the first block she saw Knox Rodefeffer having an argument with someone in his driveway. Claire didn’t even try to hide her interest; instead she strolled up the hill.

  “You used to love me!” the young woman shouted.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said. “And I certainly never encouraged you to do something so stupid.”

  Claire finally recognized the young woman as Knox’s previous secretary, Courtenay. Her mascara was running down her face, and she was not a pretty crier.

  “I risked everything for you,” she said.

  “I didn’t ask you to do anything,” Knox said. “You did that all on your own.”

  “You lied to me,” she screamed. “I’ll tell them everything.”

  “No you won’t,” Knox said. “You have just as much to lose as I do.”

  Knox saw Claire and immediately turned and walked back toward his front door. Courtenay got back in her car and reversed down the steep driveway so fast Claire had to jump out of the way.

  Claire considered running after her, but she drove away so fast there was no way Claire could keep up. When Courtenay’s car reached Pine Mountain Road, she zoomed off east in the direction of Glencora. Claire idly wondered if Courtenay and Claire’s ex-husband, Pip, had become reacquainted; they had recently had quite a passionate affair.

  Claire kept walking down Morning Glory Avenue, and then crossed Pine Mountain Road onto Morning Glory Circle. There was no one outside Trick’s house or Mamie’s house. A gardener was working on Gwyneth Eldridge’s front hedges, and there was a delivery truck backed up to the south side entrance of the Eldridge Inn. Claire walked down to see what was going on.

  Anne Marie was directing workmen unloading chairs. She waved Claire over when she saw her.

  “Claire, darling, be a lamb and deal with this for me. I can’t find Jeremy and no one seems to be in charge at the Inn today.”

  “Sure,” Claire said. “What needs to happen?”

  “Oh, never mind,” Anne Marie said. “There he is.”

  A tall, thin man came running across the lawn that separated Gwyneth’s house from the Inn. He had white hair, bright blue eyes, and wore an immaculate white suit, white shirt, and white tie. He was also wearing a hologram rainbow badge with his name on it.

  “I’m coming,” he called out. “Never fear, Jeremy is here!”

  Anne Marie made a show of pouting as he fell to his knees before her and prostrated himself at her feet.

  “Say you forgive me,” he begged. “Or never shall I rise.”

  “Oh, get up, do,” she said, but she was smiling. “You know how much I hate dealing with details.”

  Anne Marie introduced Claire to Jeremy, whose big smile was so full of such bright white teeth that she almost missed the calculating expression in his eyes. He squeezed her hand too hard and wrung it up and down one time too many.

  “So pleased, really,” he said. “Anne Marie told me all about you. A gift from the loving universe. So glad to have you on board.”

  “I’m not on board,” Claire said, but they both ignored her.

  “Take a look at the basement,” Anne Marie said to Claire. “See if you think there is anything we can do to make it more spa-like down there.”

  With a wave Anne Marie was gone, silk scarf ends flying. Jeremy led the workers to the conference room, which they were readying for the seminar. There was a pile of yoga mats and several cartons of bottled water stacked to one side. A huge board with a rainbow heart hologram was on an easel near the front of the room. Another easel near the doorway had rules posted on it.

  “No cell phones, recording devices, or computers

  No leaving the room without permission

  No food or beverages other than those provided

  No exceptions”

  It sounded more like the rules for after-school detention than for a conference on love and spirituality.

  Claire went downstairs to look around the basement, which was dark and dreary, with concrete walls painted institutional green and crisscrossing rows of exposed pipes and duct work below the ceiling. It was dry, at least. It would take a lot of money and good lighting to make it into a luxury spa. Did she even want to do it? Claire walked around to the back entrance and pushed the slanted access door open. She heard a voice.

  “The funeral is tomorrow,” she heard Anne Marie saying. “They’ll read the will afterward, and then we’ll meet with the insurance agents. After we get the check, I’ll call you.”

  Claire peeked over the edge of the stairway to see Anne Marie walking through the back garden holding her cell phone but speaking through a hands-free headset hooked over her ear. Claire thought she must not know about the many scanner grannies in town who would no doubt be listening in to her call.

  “You shouldn’t have gone up there,” Anne Marie said. “I don’t know what you thought you could accomplish.”

  Claire backed down so that she could hear but not be seen.

  “Let me worry about Meredith,” Anne Marie said. “You just keep your mouth shut and leave Knox alone. If you will let me handle everything, it will be fine. I promise.”

  Claire could hear Ann Marie getting closer, so she scooted back into the basement. A few moments later she heard Ann
e Marie come down the stairs.

  “Claire,” she called out. “Claire, are you down here?”

  Claire came out of the laundry room.

  “Lots of work to be done,” she said to Anne Marie. “It will take months.”

  “Nonsense,” Anne Marie said. “We can just put up some screens, set up a few massage tables and light some candles. I need it to happen by Friday.”

  “There’s no way,” Claire said.

  “In a loving universe, Claire, everything is possible,” Anne Marie said. “If you need money, I have money. If you need volunteers, I have those, too, in abundance, God knows. Just tell Jeremy what you need and he’ll help you make it happen.”

  Anne Marie turned on her heel and strode away, already dialing her next call. Claire took out her notepad to make a list, and then stopped. This felt so familiar because it was so familiar. This was exactly what it was like working for Sloan: impossible deadlines, herculean tasks, a bottomless pocketbook, and probably nothing she did would ever be good enough.

  “I’m not doing it,” she said out loud. “I don’t work for you.”

  But she found she couldn’t just walk away. What else did she have to do? She found herself picturing a series of tent-like spaces lit with soft spotlights and calming classical music playing. The front desk area could go there, and the waiting area there. It really wouldn’t be all that hard. Claire wrote and wrote.

  Upstairs she found Jeremy paying the deliverymen. She showed him her list.

  “You certainly are the right woman for the job,” he said. “Here.”

  He took a credit card out of his wallet and handed it to her.

  “Let me know if you need any help,” he said. “Here’s my cell number.”

  He handed her a business card much like Anne Marie’s.

  “How did you come to work for Anne Marie?” she asked him.

  “I used to work for her publisher,” he said. “I worked closely with Anne Marie on several of her book launches, book tours, and then a cruise. We worked well together, so she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Now we have our own publishing company and print on demand. We have the ranch resort in Cali, and we give seminars all over the world. Anne Marie has the energy of ten women. I don’t think she ever sleeps.”

  “What did you think of Gwyneth Eldridge?”

  “You’re on the team now,” he said. “You’ll soon get to recognize the type of people we attract. They’re intelligent people, for the most part, but longing for someone to tell them what to do, although they’d never admit it. Some have been raised in wealthy families, where everything they could possibly want from the material world has been handed to them, so they’re looking for something to feed their spiritual hunger. Some have achieved all of their professional goals and are asking themselves ‘Now what? Who am I? What do I do now?’ Some have just never fit into our patriarchal, capitalistic society, and they’re looking for a place where they can belong. They’re all lost in some way, and need somewhere to be and something to do. We give them a sense of purpose and meaningful work. It’s really as simple as that. Gwyneth’s no different.”

  Claire promised to call if she needed anything. She found a quiet spot in the breakfast nook back by the commercial kitchen and took out her electronic tablet. Within an hour she had ordered everything she needed to be shipped overnight. Now she just needed some licensed massage therapists and a Reiki master. She took out her cell phone and started dialing. She knew of a prestigious organization in New York that represented independent, licensed massage therapists. After requesting seven massage therapists and one Reiki Master, and paying up front for their services, she whipped up a basic contract and emailed it to the office manager. Then she arranged their flights to and car service from the Pittsburgh Airport, and reserved their rooms at the Rose Hill B&B, which was owned by her cousin-in-law Ava.

  Claire walked down to the hardware store to talk to Sonny, the owner. She described the PVC pipe scaffolding she needed constructed to create the tent treatment rooms, and he helped her sketch it out on quadrille paper.

  “No problem,” he said. “I’ll go up and measure for you this afternoon. I can cut everything tonight and install it tomorrow.”

  Claire left the hardware store and ran into Scott leaving the police station.

  “Hey,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”

  They went back in his office and sat down. Claire told him about Meredith, Anne Marie, and Courtenay.

  “So you think Anne Marie is paying off Courtenay with part of the money?”

  “And do you remember that Meredith confessed to poisoning her husband?”

  “Wasn’t admissible,” he said. “But I’ll remind Sarah.”

  “All three women might be working together,” Claire said. “I don’t know how that could come about, but it’s too big of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “Are you sure you ought to be working for someone you think might be involved in a murder?”

  “I don’t know that for sure,” Claire said. “Besides, I can keep an eye on them and let you know if I hear anything else.”

  “I know it’s useless to tell you, Hannah, or Maggie to stay out of something,” Scott said. “Just promise me you won’t let them poison you.”

  “I won’t drink anything they offer, I promise,” Claire said. “How’s the investigation going?”

  “I can’t talk about it,” he said. “Not that there’s much to talk about.”

  Claire left the station and went home for dinner. Her father was sitting in his recliner and her mother was cooking in the kitchen.

  “Watch out,” Delia said. “He’s in a foul mood.”

  When Ian came to the table, he had the air of someone greatly injured.

  “I want you both to know I have decided to give your mother a divorce,” he said.

  “Oh, Dad,” Claire said. “There’s nothing going on between Mom and Doc Machalvie. I promise you.”

  “I know what I’ve been told,” he said. “And I’ve seen them together with my own eyes. I know you think I’m crazy but I’m not a fool. I know it’s true.”

  “It must be awful to believe that,” Delia said to Ian. “It must be horrible to think I could do that to you.”

  “It is horrible,” he said. “It’s the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”

  “If you want a divorce, I won’t stop you,” Delia said. “But I wish you’d give me another chance instead.”

  “Mom,” Claire said, but Delia held her hand up.

  “I don’t want that man in this house again,” Ian said.

  “Okay,” Delia said. “He will never come to the house again.”

  “And you can’t sneak off and see him,” Ian said.

  “I won’t,” Delia said.

  “I wish I could believe you,” Ian said.

  “She won’t,” Claire said. “Because she never did.”

  “You covered for her last time,” he said to Claire. “I can’t trust you anymore.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Claire said. “This is crazy.”

  “I won’t see him,” Delia said to Ian, taking his hand in hers. “So there’s no need for anyone to get divorced.”

  “I’m glad that’s settled,” Ian said. “Now let’s eat. The food’s getting cold.”

  Claire had lost her appetite, but she stayed at the table to make strained small talk with her mother. After her father finished his dinner and went back to his recliner, she waved at her mother.

  “Hey you, crazy lady,” Claire said. “Why did you just do that?”

  “All I want is to have peace in this house,” Delia said. “If going along with it gives him peace, then I don’t care about the truth. I’d rather lie and have peace than shout the truth and have bedlam.”

  “It’s only going to get worse,” Claire said.

  “I know that, Claire,” Delia said. “But tonight, we have peace.”

  Maggie was already in a booth, alone, when C
laire arrived at the Rose and Thorn.

  “Where is everybody?” Claire asked.

  “Scott’s working, Hannah and Sam are home with Sammy, who has a temperature, and Ed’s coming later.”

  “Oh well, I wasn’t really in the mood to play anyway.”

  “I know you called your ex,” Maggie said. “Now convince me why that was not a big mistake.”

  “Maybe it was,” Claire said. “But it was good to hear his voice.”

  “You’re too nice for your own good,” Maggie said. “People just walk all over you.”

  Claire told Maggie about Denise closing the salon, and about working for Anne Marie.

  “She’s insane,” Maggie said. “All that hoodoo-voodoo rubbish is just a con game.”

  “Maybe,” Claire said. “At least I have something to do.”

  “Well, be careful,” Maggie said. “If you start talking about rainbows and good vibrations, I’ll have you reprogrammed.”

  “Maggie, why don’t you let me and Hannah plan your wedding? I know it sounds awful, but just think about it. If we do everything then nothing can be your fault.”

  “I have been thinking about it,” Maggie said. “I just don’t want to be embarrassed. You know how over-the-top Hannah likes to do things.”

  “I will reign her in, I promise.”

  “Everyone has to think I had no idea,” Maggie said. “I don’t want to talk about it with anyone but you.”

  “I promise, I promise,” Claire said. “Let’s plan everything tonight and do it Saturday night.”

  “That’s too soon,” Maggie said. “You’ll never get it all together by then.”

  “You don’t know what I’m capable of doing,” Claire said. “You just tell me what you want and I will make it happen.”

  Claire took out her notebook and pen. Maggie frowned and bit her lip.

  “First priority,” Claire said as she wrote, “Maggie must not be embarrassed.”

  “Good,” Maggie said. “But it’s okay if my mother is.”

  By ten o’clock, Claire had multiple pages of instructions from Maggie.

  “This is good,” Claire said. “You’ve obviously been thinking a lot about this.”

  “As long as no one else ever knows that,” Maggie said.