Lilac Avenue

by Pamela Grandstaff

  “I think you should tell Scott,” Claire said.

  “He’s terrible at keeping secrets,” Maggie said.

  “He’s the chief of police,” Claire said. “Isn’t that part of his job?”

  “I love Scott,” Maggie said. “But I know his limitations.”

  “The only thing I’ll need for you to do is try on a dress tomorrow.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Yes,” Claire said. “But don’t worry; I am an excellent stylist and I will not let you fail.”

  “If you pull this off, you’ll be a miracle worker,” Maggie said.

  “In a loving universe everything is possible,” Claire said.

  “Thanks, Anne Marie,” Maggie said. “Tell me this, though: how are you going to get all these people into the church without telling them it’s for a wedding?”

  “Easy peasy,” Claire said. “Hannah’s going to get Sammy baptized just before you arrive. We’ll invite everyone to a christening and they’ll get a wedding for free. It’s like a gift with purchase, only you’ll be the free lipstick.”

  “Was this Hannah’s idea?”

  “Yep,” Claire said. “That’s how much she cares.”

  “Poor Father Steven will be quaking in his cassock.”

  “But there should be an excellent turnout,” Claire said. “Nobody who knows Sammy is going to want to miss it.”

  Claire was already in bed, staring at the ceiling, when Carlyle called.

  “What are you wearing?” he asked her.

  “T-shirt, yoga pants,” she said.

  “You could at least lie for my sake,” he said. “Do you want to know what I’m wearing?”

  “Lift shoes, capped teeth, and man Spanx,” Claire said. “You’ve painted quite a pretty picture in my head.”

  “I’ll never live that down, this I know for a fact.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I did what you told me,” he said. “I told her I needed a break, so I’m going to come see you.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Claire said.

  “She won’t know,” he said.

  “I can pretty much guarantee she’ll know,” Claire said. “We’ll have to meet somewhere far from here.”

  “Okay,” he said. “You name the place and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Let me think about it,” Claire said. “When can you leave?”

  “Friday,” he said. “I can meet you Friday night and we can spend the weekend somewhere.”

  “I’m sorry,” Claire said. “That’s not going to work for me. My weekend is booked.”

  “Don’t tease me,” Carlysle said. “Do you know what I went through to get this time off?”

  “Sorry,” Claire said. “I’ve got a work thing Friday night and a wedding Saturday.”

  “So I’ll come there.”

  “You won’t if you know what a hissy fit she’ll throw.”

  “I’m coming,” he said. “Send me directions from the nearest airport. Where is the nearest airport, by the way?”

  “I’ll email it to you,” she said. “But don’t be surprised when she sabotages the whole thing.”

  “I won’t let her,” he said. “I’m so excited to see you. You don’t know. Having this to look forward to will save my sanity.”

  Claire sat up in bed with her electronic tablet and sent all the information to Carlyle’s drama school email address. This reminded her of something Maggie had once said about Carlysle, that dating a drama teacher was like taking crazy pills from an accurately labeled bottle. Claire smiled in the dark, in the glow from her tablet. Carlyle was certainly crazy to think Sloan would let him get away with this, and Claire was certainly crazy to think it was a smart thing to do. The thing was she didn’t care about the fallout; she just wanted to see him.

  Claire made a list of all the things she still had to do to get the Eldridge Inn spa ready, and another list for Maggie’s wedding. To anyone else this would have been cause for a sleepless night worrying about having so many balls in the air. For Claire Fitzpatrick, former assistant to high maintenance, Hollywood actress Sloan Merryweather, it was just another day in the week. It felt good to be busy. Busy meant less time to think.

  Claire was too keyed up now to sleep. She looked through her favorite bookmarked sites and clicked on a Hollywood gossip web site she enjoyed. Because she knew so many of the people involved, along with the backstage maneuvering that took place behind the scenes, she could usually predict who was about to break through to mass appeal, who had about worn out their fans’ goodwill, and who was being set up for a big fall.

  The paying audience, those who paid for movie tickets and the products associated with the stars that made them, enjoyed building someone up and then tearing that person down. Consumer sentiment shifted, rose, dove, and turned like a cloud of swallows, with the Internet as their blue sky and the tabloids as the landscape below.

  Sloan had one of the best public relations teams in the business. When her star was rising, she was seen and heard everywhere, and appeared on the cover of every publication that mattered. When the tide turned against her, she disappeared without a sound.

  “Never defend, complain, or explain,” was the team motto during those periods.

  Since she had quit working for Sloan, Claire had refrained from cyber-stalking her, partly because she was afraid to peer too deeply into the abyss, and partly because she was afraid of seeing Carlyle being happy in her former employer’s company.

  ‘Just do it and get it over with,’ she thought, as she put both their names in the search engine and clicked on “images.”

  There they were, holding hands in what was obviously a staged paparazzi shot with the caption: “Sloan Merryweather, newly returned to L.A. from the Scotland set of Mary, Queen of Scots, along with her fiancé, drama professor Carlyle McKinney.” Sloan looked the same, with her flashing green eyes, cascading auburn hair, and her designer-clad petite body, clinging to his arm in that possessive manner she had.

  Claire almost didn’t recognize her ex.

  Carlyle McKinney was not a classically handsome man. He was quick-witted, clever, and naturally funny, and his quirky personally had suited his odd features and lean, wiry frame. Claire was disappointed to see that Sloan was attempting to turn this great character actor into a leading man.

  His hair could not have grown that fast, so it must have been a weave that gave him the longer, romance-novel-cover locks he was now sporting. His teeth were indeed now straighter, whiter, and bigger; they completely changed his smile into one she didn’t recognize. That smile did not extend to his eyes, which, in Claire’s expert opinion, had recently been subjected to some “professional refreshing.” Gone were the dark circles and puffiness. His hollow cheeks were now pumped full of fillers, and his forehead was as smooth as a baby’s butt.

  Claire clicked away and then turned off her tablet, but that image was now burned into her brain. Claire closed her eyes, and tried to picture the man she’d fallen in love with, the one she had been pining for. Unfortunately, all she could picture was the stranger on the Internet. It didn’t make for a very romantic image, it didn’t fit into the epic love story she wanted very much for theirs to be, and it didn’t lessen the uneasy feeling she had that when she finally saw him in person, she might not feel the way she wanted to feel.

  Chapter Six - Thursday

  Claire was at the Eldridge Inn when the first shift front desk clerk arrived at 8:00 a.m. She was someone Claire knew from church, so she didn’t hesitate to let Claire commandeer the breakfast nook for her spa project.

  “If any guests come in, I’ll make myself scarce,” Claire told her.

  “The only guests right now are Meredith, Anne Marie, and Jeremy,” the woman told her. “The whole place is booked for the seminar this weekend; those guests should start arriving today.”

  Claire went to the breakfast nook and set up her command center at a small round table by the window
overlooking the park. The first thing she did was track all her overnight shipments; the first round should arrive by 10:00 a.m. and the second by 3:00 p.m. She checked on the flights from New York, and was glad to see her massage therapists were on schedule. The Reiki Master was coming from Florida, and had a change of planes in Charlotte, but she should arrive in Pittsburgh in plenty of time to share the hired van with the massage therapists. Claire texted all of the women to remind them where to meet at the airport. Next Claire called Sonny, who confirmed that he would install the PVC pipe infrastructure later that day.

  Satisfied she was on top of the Spa project, Claire turned to her notes for Maggie’s wedding. She called Hannah first, and asked her to come to the Inn. She didn’t dare use her cell phone to talk about any of the wedding plans for fear the scanner grannies would blab it all over town.

  Hannah arrived through the kitchen, where she had helped herself to a fresh peach scone and a cup of coffee. Claire watched as Hannah dumped three sugars in her coffee and topped it off with a generous amount of cream.

  “Let’s have all of our meetings here,” Hannah said, with her mouth full of scone. “And let’s meet a lot.”

  Claire had Hannah’s list ready, but when Hannah reached for it, Claire held it back.

  “This cannot leave your hands,” Claire said. “This is top secret.”

  “I swear I will not break, even if tortured,” Hannah said.

  Claire gave her the list and Hannah whistled low as she read through it.

  “No problem, no problem, no problem, oh wait, here’s a problem,” she said. “Sam won’t let us baptize Sammy.”

  “But that’s how we’re getting everyone to the church,” Claire said. “What’s his problem?”

  “He doesn’t believe in it,” Hannah said. “And I can’t do it without his permission.”

  “Does he know what we’re really doing?”

  “I can’t tell him, can I?” Hannah said. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

  “Okay, you can tell Sam,” Claire said. “I guess he can be trusted.”

  “What should he wear to this shindig?” Hannah asked.

  “Black suit, white shirt, gray tie,” Claire said. “It’s the best we can do on such short notice, and I think asking them to wear tuxes would be pushing it.”

  “So now I just have to buy a black suit, white shirt, and gray tie,” Hannah said, adding that to her list.

  “Doesn’t Sam own a suit?”

  “He has a uniform from the service,” Hannah said. “That’s what he got married in.”

  “Okay, I’ll help with that,” Claire said. “How about a wedding dress store? We need to be really careful not to tip anyone off.”

  “Sam’s cousin Edie’s sister-in-law’s daughter owns a bridal shop in Pendleton,” Hannah said. “We could probably get in there after hours.”

  “Tell her the dress is for me,” Claire said.

  “I cannot wait to try on wedding dresses,” Hannah said.

  “Only Maggie will be trying on wedding dresses,” Claire said.

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I meant,” Hannah said.

  Claire went over everything else she had assigned to Hannah.

  “Are Father Stephen and Sister Mary Margrethe on board with Saturday evening?”

  “Yessir,” Hannah said, with a salute. “Sister M-Squared said I just need to get the sheet music to her as soon as possible so she can practice.”

  “We could play prerecorded music.”

  “But that would hurt her feelings,” Hannah said. “We can’t do that.”

  “Let’s keep it simple, then,” Claire said. “Something traditional she’s done a million times.”

  “That’s no fun,” Hannah said.

  “We can’t embarrass Maggie,” Claire said. “I promised her.”

  “I’m not going to embarrass her,” Hannah said. “But ‘Here Comes the Bride’ is so boring.”

  “Just please run it past me before you commit to anything,” Claire said. “It’s me she’ll blame if anything goes wrong.”

  “Okay, no fun music,” Hannah said as she wrote something down.

  “Now,” Claire said. “We can confide in the best man, Ed, who I think can keep a secret, and you’re going to tell Sam, so that just leaves Patrick. I hate to tell him anything; he’s such a gossip.”

  “Let’s wait until the last minute to tell him,” Hannah said. “Meanwhile, I’ll go ahead and get someone to cover for him at the Thorn so he can come to Sammy’s christening.”

  “Does Patrick have a black suit?”

  “He does,” Hannah said. “You should probably get an extra gray tie just in case.”

  “Should we call everyone or do invitations?”

  “Call them,” Hannah said. “That way we’ll get a better idea of head count, and the scanner grannies will spread the word about the christening.”

  They worked on a list of people to call, and split it in half. They had more than fifty people on each list.

  “What about Maggie’s staff?” Claire asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Hannah said. “She likes to keep her work stuff separate; she’s funny about that.”

  “They wouldn’t be invited to Sammy’s christening anyway,” Claire said. “Let’s keep it small. If we get 75 people out of 100, we’ll be lucky.”

  “What about food?”

  “That’s Melissa’s job,” Claire said. “She’s a bridesmaid who just happens to work at the bakery. We’re going to prepare a reception in the church basement, and use plain white sheet cakes instead of a big wedding cake.”

  “I’m going to request one be chocolate,” Hannah said.

  “We’re keeping it simple,” Claire said. “Don’t complicate anything.”

  “Okay, I’m off,” Hannah said. “Like a wedding dress.”

  “Call me when you confirm the dress shop,” Claire said. “I won’t call Maggie until that’s settled.”

  “Aye aye, captain,” Hannah said. “I will 10-4 you when I get the 411 on the 911.”

  After Hannah left, Claire checked her masseuses’ flights again. Everything was on schedule. She heard a disturbance in the outer hallway and tip-toed to the doorway so she could listen.

  “I don’t know why she has to be involved at all,” Meredith was hissing at someone. “I can’t bear the sight of her.”

  “Because she notarized everything,” Anne Marie said quietly, but loudly enough Claire could hear. “After we get the checks, we’ll pay her off and then she’ll be gone. You’ll never have to see her again.”

  “Unless she decides to blackmail us,” Meredith said.

  “She can’t afford to push her luck,” Anne Marie said. “She has just as much to lose as we do.”

  As the voices came nearer, Claire scooted backwards and pressed her body back into the coffee service area, which was installed in what was previously a closet. Meredith must have looked in and thought no one was in the room, because they stood in the doorway and continued their discussion in hushed tones.

  “If that toxicology report comes back with anything other than natural causes,” Anne Marie said, “then we’ll have real problems.”

  “When will we know?” Meredith said.

  “It takes weeks,” Anne Marie said. “We’ll all be long gone by then.”

  “My flight is tomorrow morning,” Meredith said.

  “Lucky you,” Anne Marie said. “I’m stuck here until Sunday.”

  “Won’t it seem suspicious that we were both here this week?”

  “In a loving universe, my dear, all things are perfect in their synchronicity.”

  “Save that crap for your paying customers,” Meredith said.

  “You should consider my offer,” she said. “It might do you some good.”

  “Please,” Meredith said. “Credit me with some good sense. I may be crazy but I’m not that crazy.”

  Anne Marie laughed, they moved out of the doorway to the stairs, and someone ascende
d a few steps.

  “Stay away from Knox,” Anne Marie called softly.

  “Don’t worry,” Meredith said. “If I never see that man again, it will be too soon.”

  The sound of Meredith’s footsteps indicated she was leaving the Inn through the front desk area, while Anne Marie’s continued moving up the stairs.

  Claire came out of her hiding place, gathered all her stuff up and stashed it in her cavernous handbag. She checked her watch; her early overnight delivery would be there any minute, but she wanted to tell Scott what she’d just heard.

  She stopped at the front desk to tell the clerk she’d be right back, to ask her to sign for her stuff if she missed the delivery service. She left by the kitchen just in case Meredith was still out front. She ran through the park, glad to be wearing sensible flat shoes rather than her platform Louboutins. When she arrived at the police station, the door was locked.

  “Damn,” she said.

  She tried Scott’s cell phone and the call went straight to voicemail. What to say?

  “Scott, this is Claire. Please come by the Inn and see me; it’s important.”

  She tossed her phone back in her handbag and ran all the way back to the Inn, arriving just as the delivery service man was unloading her packages. She ran inside to get a handcart, and then ticked every box off of her list as she restacked the boxes. Everything that was supposed to be there was accounted for.

  “Thank you,” she told the deliveryman, as she signed the electronic device he proffered. “I’ll see you at three.”

  “Won’t be me,” he said as he got on the truck. “There’s no second delivery in Rose Hill.”

  “What!” Claire said. “Wait a minute! Wait!”

  But he hadn’t heard her as he slammed the sliding door shut on his truck. Claire ran alongside the van, pounding on the sides, but he didn’t stop. She stood in the middle of Morning Glory Circle and watched him turn right at the stop sign, headed toward Glencora.

  Claire’s language as she walked back to the Inn took the form of a complaint laced with a plethora of curse words, some in foreign languages. She carted her boxes around the side of the Inn and down through the delivery entrance to the basement. It took three trips. Then she called the delivery service provider and waded through multiple number choices until she could speak to an actual person. She was assured that a special delivery was being made to the Eldridge Inn by three o’clock. She hung up not feeling very confident in that assurance.