“No, Mom. I’m not going home. Finals are coming up. I can recover here as well as anyplace. Besides, I don’t want you to fuss over me. I hate it when you fuss. I’m not a little kid anymore.”
“Bobby, this wasn’t a walk-in-the-park surgery. What happened to you was serious. You’re going to need to take it easy and be monitored. I can do that.”
“I’m staying here,” he said firmly. “The guys will watch out for me. Stop treating me like a baby. Did you tell Abby?”
“I called her, son,” Donovan said, nudging Carol out of the way. “She was very concerned. I expect you’ll be hearing from her soon.”
“Did you read her book, Dad? Canine Capers? I read it, and I couldn’t believe my own sister wrote it. All the girls, even some of the guys in the dorm, are taking turns reading it. She’s going to be famous, Dad. Right up there with Stephen King and Tony Hillerman.”
“I know, and it couldn’t happen to a nicer person. She deserves it. Did you see Mallory impersonating Abby on the Regis and Kathie Lee show?”
“Yeah, I taped it and watched it afterward. But I knew before what the plot of the new book is going to be. Abby told me it was based on an insurance case Mallory found. I think it’s really great that they’re collaborating, don’t you?” When he reached for his water glass, Carol intercepted it before he could touch it. He pushed the glass away and continued talking to his father. “Abby promised to come up to see me after the holidays. She wants to do some research here in New Jersey since that’s where the crime took place. I’m kind of sleepy, Dad, do you mind if I doze off?”
“Sure. No problem. Sleep is the best thing for you right now. Your mom and I will go for some coffee and be back later. Don’t let those bedbugs bite now, you hear?”
“Dad, that’s what you say to little kids. Don’t make me laugh, okay? It hurts.”
“See you in a little while.” Donovan put his arm behind Carol’s back and moved her toward the door.
“He doesn’t look good,” Carol said in the hallway.
“Jesus Christ, Carol, the kid just had surgery. He’s groggy, he’s in pain, and the last thing he wants is to be cheerful for his parents. Give it a rest already.”
They walked down a long, bustling hall. At the nurses’ station, Donovan asked for directions to the cafeteria. Carol went on ahead. He watched her walk. She looked like the same woman he’d married, but she wasn’t. Or maybe she was. Hell, he didn’t know anything anymore. Briefly, he wondered if Carol had any idea how manipulative and controlling she was. The thing with not letting Bobby get his own glass … it was the way she was with everything and everyone. He likened it to a sickness.
“I had no idea Bobby and Abby were in close communication,” Carol said over her shoulder as they entered the crowded cafeteria. “Did you know that, Donovan?”
“No. It doesn’t surprise me, though. They were always very close.”
“I don’t like it. He knows how I feel. It’s almost as though he’s flaunting their relationship. Imagine Abby sharing her plots with him. He’s just a youngster.”
“Yeah, imagine,” Donovan said, tongue in cheek. “How long are you planning on us staying here, Carol?”
“Until Bobby’s out of the hospital, of course. That was a stupid question, Donovan.”
“I can’t stay here that long.”
“Then go home to your job, Donovan. This is only your son who was at death’s door. Go back to your shopping malls and twenty-thousand-square-foot houses. See if I care. Bobby won’t care either.”
“I’m not going to argue with you, Carol. You do what you want to do, and I’ll do what I want to do. But take some advice from me. Stop doing to Bobby what you did to Abby. Stop now before it’s too late. There’s still some wiggle room where the boy is concerned. You’re on the edge of blowing it.”
“Ah, the eight-hundred-pound gorilla has spoken,” Carol said.
Donovan’s shoulders slumped. He wished he was on a plane heading home. The moment he was certain Bobby was in the safe zone he would leave.
Outside in the crisp November air, Donovan fired up a cigarette as he hunkered down inside his heavy jacket. With nothing to do for an hour or so, he could get in the rental car and drive to Edison and check out his old house. Abby might want to know who was living there now. He didn’t stop to think or to tell Carol where he was going. She wouldn’t care anyway. Carol didn’t care about anything lately, except herself.
Thirty minutes later, Donovan was on Nevsky Street, where he made a right turn on Fleet Avenue and then another right onto Alexander Street. He drove slowly up to the dead end and crawled around the circle. It wasn’t the kind of street that had mailboxes at the curb, so he had no way of telling if the neighbors were the same or not.
There were cedar shakes on his house now. John and Harriet’s house was painted a warm beige with dark brown shutters. The old landscaping was gone on both houses. He thought it strange that there were no cars in any of the driveways. Maybe the neighborhood had turned over and everybody worked. So the Valentinos put in a pool. Or, if it wasn’t the Valentinos, then someone else. A cloak of depression settled over him as he drove away and headed to the Friendly Shop for coffee.
It was time to do some heavy-duty thinking that could possibly result in some heavy-duty decision making.
Three hours into the five-hour drive to Atlanta, Mallory broke the silence. “Why don’t we switch up, Abby? I catnapped.”
“I am kind of tired. I’ll pull over as soon as I see a shoulder that’s wide enough. I’m tired but not sleepy. Figure that one out.”
Within minutes, Abby slowed the rental car and pulled over to a wide shoulder on the side of the road.
“I feel like I’m brain-dead,” Mallory said as she handed the urn to her sister. “If it spooks you to hold Mama, we can put her on the backseat.”
Abby leaned over the backseat and wedged the urn between their two overnight bags. She didn’t want to have anything to do with her mother’s ashes.
Mallory steered the car into the moving traffic. “Do you want to talk about any of this, Abby?”
“What’s the point?”
“The point is, you’re confused. You don’t know who to believe, Donovan or me. I know he told you something that is making you uncomfortable. If we talk about it, maybe we can clear the air.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, really. I just can’t believe that Donovan murdered anyone, especially Daddy. He loved Daddy like a brother. And me. He was like a second father to me even before Daddy died.”
“Of course he loved you, and I’m sure he still does. And you were always sweet and loving in return. I, on the other hand, was a mean and vicious little girl. I hated you because Mama said I was supposed to hate you. I remember crying once because I didn’t want to be mean. Mama punished me and took my toys away. I wanted her to love me, and if being mean to you was what I had to do to get that love, I did it. It was wrong. Even as a child I knew it was wrong. But I did it anyway. Make Abby’s life miserable. That was the name of the game. A sick, ugly, hateful game. I could try to make it up to you for the rest of my life, but it wouldn’t be enough time.”
“I don’t hold any resentment toward you. I never did.”
“That really says something about you, you know? I could never understand why you continued to love me after all the hateful things I did and said to you. Do you remember the nights you used to crawl into bed with me?”
Abby had forgotten those times, but Mallory’s words brought it all back. “I remember. I remember how you shooed me out before it got light out in the morning so Mama wouldn’t see that I slept with you. You were never mean to me then.” She blinked back tears. “I remember one night when you were falling asleep, you rubbed my cheek and said you wished you had a magic finger to make my mark go away.”
Mallory took her right hand off the steering wheel and reached for Abby’s. “In spite of the way things look now, everything is going to turn out all ri
ght. You’ll see.”
Abby smiled. She wished she had the confidence Mallory had. “Are you still up to flying to New Jersey after we see Constance? I’d like to see Bobby … and I need to check out the lay of the land for the book. I don’t want to make any mistakes.”
“Sounds good,” Mallory replied.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Donovan Mitchell sat in the parking lot of the small strip mall drinking his coffee and smoking as he watched the busy shoppers entering and exiting the A&P and the CVS drugstore. It had been years since he’d been in either a supermarket or a drugstore. Anything he wanted or needed, Carol took care of. Carol took care of everything. She always had, even before they were married. He’d always thought she was making his life—everybody’s life—easier, but now he knew just the opposite to be true. She’d complicated all their lives by trying to control them.
He adjusted his sunglasses to ward off the late-November sunshine. Was that his old neighbor, Mrs. Lascaris, standing by the long row of grocery carts? He stretched his neck out the window to get a better look. “I’ll be damned. It is,” he said, bolting from the car and racing up to the entrance of the A&P. “Mrs. Lascaris?”
She looked disgruntled. “My goodness, it took you a long time to get here, young man. I called the cab company a half hour ago.”
Donovan laughed. She was just as he remembered her; a curmudgeon. “I’m not from the cab company. Don’t you remember me, Mrs. Lascaris? Donovan Mitchell. I used to live next door to you.”
The spry little lady looked at him over the top of her wirerim glasses. “Lord have mercy, it is you, Donovan. How are you? What in the world are you doing here?”
“I’m fine, and you?”
“A lot older than when you saw me last. Are you thinking of moving back here? Oh, I do hope so. I don’t much care for the people who bought your house. They have two teenage boys with earrings in their ears and tattoos all over their arms and neck. I’ve never seen the likes! I thought teenagers liked to do odd jobs to earn a little money. But not these boys. I remember how you used to rake my leaves for me every fall. And shovel my snow in the winter. I miss you, young man.”
Young man. Donovan grinned from ear to ear. It had been a long time since anyone called him a young man. “How about if you forget the cab and let me take you home?”
“I’d like that. Those cabbies take forever to show up and then they don’t want to carry the groceries inside unless you give them a ten-dollar tip. I can’t afford that kind of money on my pension. Everything costs so much these days,” Estelle Lascaris fretted.
Donovan touched her arm. “Wait here and I’ll fetch the car.” He started to leave, then turned back. “Do you still bake those raisin-filled cookies that are so good for dunking?”
She smiled brightly. “Yes. I made some yesterday as a matter of fact. Would you like some, and maybe some coffee to dunk them in?” she asked, her voice filled with hope.
“You bet I would,” Donovan called over his shoulder as he hurried across the parking lot to get his car. He pulled the car up in front of the store, helped her into the passenger seat, then put her two bags of groceries in the trunk.
“I think it’s going to snow,” Estelle said as she settled herself in the front seat of the car. “I wonder if I should have bought more food. When the weather turns bad, it’s hard for me to get out.”
Donovan turned his head to look at her. “Isn’t there anyone to help you?”
“Not anymore. My son lives in California now. Dentists are too busy these days to … to interrupt their lives by … visiting their aging parents. He calls once a month or so. Julie, my daughter, is in Costa Rica. She’s been there now for four years. She’s a journalist. My brother and sister-in-law passed away a few years ago.”
Donovan’s thoughts filtered back twenty-plus years. Mrs. Lascaris had been such a comfort to him after Emma and the baby died. She’d been like a mother, watching over him, seeing that he ate properly. She’d even tidied up his house a couple of times. He’d tried to pay her, but she’d stubbornly refused, saying that was what friends and neighbors were for.
Now, when she needed help, there was no one to help her. Or was there?
“Have you ever considered living in one of those selfcontained retirement communities?”
She shook her head. “I had my son check into it for me, and he said I couldn’t afford it. I was hoping he might offer to help, but he has his own family to worry about.”
“If you could afford it, would you consider relocating to say … someplace in the South?”
“Warm air and sunshine all the time?” She lifted her heavily padded shoulders. “That’s the stuff dreams are made of.” She turned her head to look out the side window.
“Not necessarily. I’m a rich man now, Mrs. Lascaris. If you’re willing, I just might be able to make your dream come true. Would you have trouble leaving here?”
She turned back, her eyes full of excitement. “Lord, no. All my friends are gone now. The only friends I have are books and soap operas, and my television set is starting to go. The TV repair shop wants sixty-five dollars just to come and look at it.”
Inexplicably angry, Donovan asked himself what kind of world was this when caring old ladies had to pinch every penny. He stopped the car in front of her house. “We’re here,” he announced. “You go on in, I’ll bring in your groceries.”
Estelle Lascaris stepped out of the car and started up the walk. She’d only taken a few steps when she stopped and turned to look at him. “I am just so happy you came by, Donovan. This is the most excitement I’ve had in years.”
Donovan stared at her, unable to comprehend how a visit from him could bring her so much joy. “Hurry up and get inside before you freeze to death,” he said, waving her away. He popped the trunk and started to pick up one of the bags when something caught his eye. “Spam?” he said aloud, not quite believing what his eyes were telling him. He counted two cans of it, several boxes of grocery-store-brand macaroni and cheese, canned soup, tuna, and scrapple. Jesus.
“Come in. Come in,” she said, motioning him toward her. “Take the chill off.”
The house was too cold to take the chill off, he thought as he followed her to the kitchen. She turned on the stove and rubbed her blue-veined hands over the gas burner.
“You shouldn’t do that,” he warned, setting the bags down on the yellow Formica-top table. “Isn’t your furnace working?”
“Yes, it’s working, but the heating bills are so high that I have to conserve.”
Donovan blinked as his good life flashed before his eyes. He started to unload the groceries.
“I’ll put all that away later. Sit down and talk to me while I make a pot of coffee.” She bustled around the kitchen, her movements slower than he remembered. “Here are the cookies,” she said, setting a plate down in front of him. Knowing she expected it, he immediately popped one into his mouth. “Do they taste the same as you remember?”
Donovan smiled as he chewed. “Better than I remember,” he said, smacking his lips in appreciation. He longed for a cup of good strong coffee but when she finally filled his cup, it was little more than colored water.
“Do you miss the old neighborhood, Donovan?” She eased herself into the chair across from him.
“Sometimes, but that’s not why I’m here. My son is in the hospital. His appendix ruptured. He’s doing fine though. I expect he’ll be back in school in no time.”
“Mercy, time certainly does fly, doesn’t it? Before we know it, it will be Christmas.” She looked sad, Donovan thought.
“I have an idea, Mrs. Lascaris. Since there’s nothing holding you here, why not sell this place and come to South Carolina? I build retirement communities and shopping malls. I can fix you up with a two-bedroom, two-bath condo in my newest retirement village. The model condo is vacant. I’ll give you a big break on the price, and I’ll arrange for a small down payment. It’s completely furnished right down to the pots
and pans and silverware. There are all kinds of activities for seniors. You’ll make friends. There’s a chapel, a grocery store that delivers, a heated pool, a movie house with first-run movies, bowling alley, pizza parlor, everything and anything you could possibly want. When you sell this house, you can put the extra money into treasury bills and have income from the interest. I’ll take care of it for you if you’re willing.”
“Why would you do that for me? You haven’t seen me in almost twenty years.”
“I might not have seen you, but I’ve thought of you. You were very kind to me when Emma died, and you always put a Christmas card in my mailbox. All you have to do is pack your clothes. Are you interested?”
“No more cold winters and no more snow,” she said, longing in her voice.
“Well, we do have a cold snap now and then,” Donovan said. “But there’s a fireplace in the condo. You can turn the heat as high as you want and you can turn the air conditioning as low as you want.”
“I’d like that,” Estelle said smartly. “If you’re serious, I’ll call the real-estate lady tomorrow morning and list the house.”
“I’m very serious. Do you think your son will mind you making the move?”
She shrugged. “No, but he will want to know what I’m going to do with the extra money. Treasury bills, you said? I like to be independent. God willing, I hope to live, another twenty years. That will make me a hundred and two!”
“Each and every one of those days will be filled with sunshine and new friends. Listen, I have to head back now.” Donovan reached into his inside jacket pocket, pulled out his wallet, and took out a business card. “Put this someplace where you won’t forget it and give me your phone number. I’ll call you in a few days to see how things are going. As soon as I get home I’ll send you a brochure so you can see what the village looks like and what your condo looks like. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. With any luck, this house will sell quickly and you can be in your new home before Christmas.”
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