by Moore,Judy
Sally didn’t really want a manicure, but Yvette was being so sweet about it that she couldn’t say no. And, actually, it did make her feel a little better. Maybe it was just having someone hold her hand and talk to her in such a soothing voice, but she felt a little less depressed while Yvette sat with her.
Helga set up a buffet-style spread of cold cuts, sandwiches, fruit, and cheese on the kitchen island so family members could eat when they wanted during the day and evening. Sally had totally lost her appetite and rarely rose from the rocking chair all day long. Yvette fixed her a plate and took it to her.
Gwen and Glen stayed in their room much of the day and came down a few times to eat. Gwen prepared trays for Stephen, who didn’t leave the study the entire day.
Gwen tried to get her brother talking and stayed with him until he ate at least a little bit of food. He told her he preferred to be alone because he didn’t like hearing people say that Rachel had died from a drug overdose.
“Rachel was clean for over two months,” Stephen said. “She was so serious about it this time. I just know she didn’t fall off the wagon.”
Gwen, who believed her sister-in-law’s death was caused by a relapse or an overdose of prescription pills, kept her theories to herself and let her brother talk. Let him believe what he wants, she thought, if it makes him feel better.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Exhausted by the strain of the day, everyone decided to go to bed early. Lance and Yvette were back in Lance’s room, and Sally moved into Stephen’s old bedroom. Stephen insisted he would stay on the fold-out couch in the study.
Tomorrow was Christmas and, from the weather reports, it looked like the worst of the snowstorm would pass through that night. The wind howled, and the snow was coming down so heavily that it was a total whiteout outside.
Sally went into Stephen’s bedroom, closed the door, and decided to take a quick shower before going to bed. She felt so tense. She hoped a shower might relax her, and it did help a little bit. After the shower, she settled into Stephen’s bed and turned off the light. The constant raging of the storm outside unnerved her. She knew there was a good chance they would lose power during the night.
She hugged a pillow and pulled her legs up into a fetal position. The house had an otherworldly aura about it. She flinched every time she heard a crack of thunder or a creak of the floors. She couldn’t think of anything except Rachel, poor Rachel, drawing her last breath in Sally’s bed last night. Death came so unexpectedly, and so quickly.
Sally lay awake for nearly an hour, but finally fell asleep, the anxieties and mental exhaustion of the day sending her into a deep slumber. She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep when a slight movement of the bed awakened her. Her eyes flew open, but the room was totally dark. She couldn’t see anything, but she suddenly became aware of the presence of someone else in her bedroom. There was a quick movement, and she felt the pressure of a soft cotton pillowcase across her face. She tried to sit up, but the pillow pushed down harder.
Sally kicked and flailed her arms trying to push the person off. She felt a twist of her wrist, and a sharp pain shot through her body. Turning her head, she caught a short breath of air, but the pillow pressed down harder. A knee on her stomach held her down. The pillow muffled her screams, and she soon realized it was useless to fight.
She could feel the air in her lungs starting to empty. After a few more seconds, she was still.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Lance thought the blanket had fallen on the floor. He was freezing. But when he reached down to check, the thick blanket was still covering him. He looked at his watch. 8:30. But the electric clock on the night stand had stopped at 6:10. He tried the lamp. Nothing happened. The power was out.
Yvette lay on her side, breathing softly. Curled up on the pillow next to her, Duchess stretched, her paws touching Yvette’s back. Dressed in her own tiny white nightgown, the little dog lifted its head to glance at Lance, gave a little groan, and then lay back down, snuggling closer to Yvette.
Lance got out of bed as quietly as he could and changed into a pair of ski pants, a fleece shirt, and a ski jacket. Before leaving the room, he looked down at his wife with her blonde hair cascading over her white nightgown and thought, Yvette looks like an angel. My angel. He couldn’t imagine life without her.
Tiptoeing out of the room, he walked quickly up the hall to the study and pushed the door open a crack. “Stephen, the power’s out. We need to get the generator going.”
Stephen didn’t move. Lance walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. He shook his brother by the shoulder. Stephen finally rolled over, his face puffy and red. He looked like he hadn’t gotten much sleep.
“Get off, Lance! Why are you waking me up?”
“The power’s off. We need to get the generator going.”
“Leave me alone. Helga takes care of that.”
“Well, the power’s been off for a while, and it’s still not going. So there must be a problem.”
“I don’t know anything about generators, Lance.”
“Neither do I. Let’s get Glen. With all those boats, he must know something about engines.”
“What do you need me for? I’m tired. I want to go back to sleep. In case you forgot, my wife died yesterday.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, Stephen, but we need you. You can build a fire. You’re the king of fires. It’s freezing in here. We need to get them going in all the fireplaces.”
Stephen moaned. “Shit.”
He pushed the blanket back and slowly stood up. He lost his balance and reached a hand to steady himself on the wall.
“Whoa, buddy. Are you ok?” Lance asked his brother.
“Just kind of woozy. I’ll be all right. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. Finally took a sleeping pill in the middle of the night.”
Lance looked at him sympathetically. “It must have been a really tough night for you. Are you feeling any better?”
“I was until you woke me up,” Stephen answered, obviously annoyed.
“Look, I’m sorry. But it’s not good for you to stay in your room by yourself all the time. C’mon. I’ll fix you some coffee. That’ll make you feel better.”
“How can we get a cup of coffee if there’s no power?”
“Oh yeah, I didn’t think about that. All the more reason to get the generator going.”
Stephen didn’t move and looked like he’d rather go back to bed.
“C’mon, man,” Lance said. “You’ll feel better if you get up and get out of this room for a while.” He picked up a pair of jeans and tossed them at his brother. “Get dressed.”
When Stephen was ready, they tapped on Glen and Gwen’s door. Gwen answered, dressed in a festive red Christmas sweater and black leggings.
“Merry Christmas, little brothers.” She gave them both a hug. She held Stephen a lot longer than she usually did. She was determined to try to improve his spirits today. It must feel horrible, she thought, to have to deal with Christmas Day the day after your spouse died.
“Merry Christmas, Gwen,” Lance said quickly. “The power’s out. We need Glen to help us get the generator going.”
“I know. It’s so cold in here,” Gwen said. “Glen’s still in bed, but he’s awake.”
The drapes were open and light streamed in. Lance and Stephen walked in, and Lance crossed the room to look out the window. “Looks like the worst of the storm is over, but look at that snow!” Lance exclaimed. “It’ll take forever to dig the roads out.”
“A white Christmas is nice, but this is ridiculous,” Gwen said with a laugh.
Glen got out of bed and tugged on a pair of sweatpants. “We’re going to be here for a while. We’ll miss our flight out tomorrow, for sure,” he told his wife.
Stephen stood
leaning on the wall. It looked like he had fallen asleep.
“Poor guy,” Gwen said. She jiggled his arm. “Stephen.”
He jolted awake. “Whaaat?”
“We’re going downstairs,” Lance said. “Let’s go.”
Stephen straightened up. “Oh, right,” he said, and followed his brother and brother-in-law out of the room.
Chapter Thirty
In the kitchen, Helga stood by the window reading the manual for the home generator. She glanced up at the men when she heard them enter the room.
“I don’t know why generator not work. Usually it come on automatic when power go off.”
“Let me take a look at that, Helga,” Glen said. “I may be able to figure it out.”
She gave him a skeptical look. She didn’t think Sally’s kids knew how to do anything.
Lance told her, “Glen owns boats, Helga. He’s familiar with how engines work.”
Helga shrugged and handed the booklet to him.
“It’s a beauty,” Glen said after reading the description. “Runs on diesel fuel. A 20,000-watt system. That’ll light up the whole house. Probably the most powerful unit available.”
Helga nodded. “Sally want to be sure we always have electricity.”
“Where is it?” Glen asked.
“It’s around back behind the pool on an elevated, covered deck,” Stephen told him. “It’s where we keep the firewood too to keep it out of the snow.”
The men went to the hall closet and put on their coats, snow boots, and winter caps. Before going outside, Glen asked Helga for a tool kit to take with him. Helga opened one of the lower kitchen cabinets and handed him a black plastic box.
Then the men began the unpleasant task of navigating their way through the two-foot high snowdrifts that covered the patio surrounding the pool. Snow continued to pelt them as they trudged along. Only the swimming pool wasn’t totally covered with snow.
Giving his brother a playful push, Lance joked, “Don’t fall in, Stephen.”
“Stop messing around, Lance,” Stephen growled. “I’m not in the mood for it.”
Lance grabbed some snow, made a snowball, and threw it at his brother. It hit him in the back of the head.
Stephen whirled around, a look of anger on his face. Then, he gave his brother a sly grin. “Oh, it’s on, bro!”
The two pelted each other with snowballs until Lance finally ducked, put his arms in front of his face, and surrendered. “I’m done. You win. Like you always do.”
Stephen laughed and extended a hand to his brother, pulling him up. “We’d better catch up with Glen or he’ll be pissed.”
Lance was happy that he’d at least gotten a laugh out of his brother. He planned to try to keep him as distracted as possible. Glen had forged ahead and was climbing the steps of the deck on the other side of the pool. By the time the brothers reached the deck, Glen had a panel off the back of the generator.
“This might take a little while,” he said.
Lance and Stephen watched for a few minutes, shifting their weight from one foot to the other in the cold. Then Stephen said, “I can’t be any help out here. I’m going to grab as much wood as I can and build a fire in the living room.”
Lance hesitated. “Glen, anything I can do to help?”
“No, go ahead on in. I think I see the problem. There’s a 200-amp transfer switch—”
“Ok, I’ll take some wood in too,” Lance interrupted, not having a clue what Glen was talking about. “Sorry to leave you out here, Glen.”
“Don’t worry about it. I like doing this kind of thing,” Glen said, adding with a chuckle, “Reminds me of home—just eighty degrees colder!”
Lance and Stephen slogged back through the snow and finally made it to the living room fireplace where they dumped the logs into the nearly empty fireplace rack.
Wide awake now after his journey through the snow, Stephen told his brother, “Ok, Lance, pay attention. I’m going to teach you how to build a fire. Listen this time.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Gwen closed the door to Stephen’s bedroom just as Duchess came running down the hall. Yvette wasn’t far behind. “Shhh,” she whispered. “Mom’s still asleep.”
Yvette picked up Duchess, and they walked downstairs together. “It’s so cold,” Yvette said, pulling Duchess close to her and rubbing the dog for warmth. Both wore festive red and white sweaters, and Duchess wore a little red velvet collar.
“I know. The power’s off,” Gwen said as they reached the bottom of the staircase. “But look, that will warm us up.”
A huge blaze in the fireplace lit up the living room. Stephen stoked the fire, while Lance straightened the remaining logs in the rack. “Look, honey,” he said proudly as the women approached. “Stephen taught me how to build a fire.”
“Ooh!” Yvette squealed, warming her hands. “It’s beautiful.”
“Merry Christmas, cupcake,” Lance said, wrapping his arms around his wife.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Lancie.” Yvette gave him a peck on the cheek. “When are we going to open presents?”
Stephen looked away. His improved spirits seemed to disappear as he realized his wife wasn’t there to celebrate Christmas with him.
Lance picked up on it immediately. “I’m not sure, honey. We’ll decide later.”
“Let’s get something to eat,” Gwen suggested. “We can’t cook, but there should be some fruit and pastries or something.”
When they got to the kitchen, Goldie and Silver were in the corner eating from their bowls. Yvette stopped in the doorway and lifted Duchess to her shoulder.
“Sorry,” Helga said. “I let dogs out for a while for some exercise. Not much room in laundry room.”
“I’ll take them outside for a quick walk after they eat,” Stephen offered.
Yvette turned around and walked into the dining room with the Yorkie until Stephen and the dogs went outside.
Gwen went to the refrigerator and opened the door to see what they could eat without cooking it.
“Don’t open refrigerator door!” Helga yelled. “Must keep cold in or food spoil.”
Gwen shut the door immediately. “Oh, I’m sorry, Helga,” she said nervously. “I hadn’t thought of that. We just wanted to get some breakfast.”
“I look in pantry.”
Helga brought out two packages of blueberry muffins, some energy bars, three oranges, some bananas, and a box of raisins. She set them on the kitchen island.
“Not the best Christmas breakfast,” Gwen said, peeling a banana. “But it’s better than nothing.”
Stephen came back in and immediately took the dogs to the laundry room. A familiar scent wafted across the room.
“Seriously?” Gwen said, looking at Lance. “He never misses an opportunity, does he?”
Stephen came to the kitchen table and took a big bite out of a muffin.
“Got the munchies?” Lance asked.
Stephen started to reply when the lights came on. They all cheered.
Lance ran to the back door. “Way to go, Glen!” he boomed.
Gwen yelled out, “I’m so impressed.”
Glen raised his arms in victory and started making his way back to the house.
“Guess I can open the refrigerator now?” Gwen asked, glancing at Helga.
Helga shrugged. “Sure.” Helga plugged in the coffee pot and the kitchen came alive with the sounds of breakfast. The coffee percolated, the toast popped, the bacon sizzled.
Gwen was busy preparing a tray of food. “I’ll take this up to Mom. She should be getting up by now. This is late for her,” she said over her shoulder as she walked out the kitchen door.
Gwen called back from the foyer. “If she’s not up,
she needs to get up. It’s Christmas.”
A few minutes later, there was a blood-curdling scream from the second floor that had everyone running up the staircase for the second day in a row.
Chapter Thirty-two
Everyone followed the sound of the screams to Stephen’s bedroom, where Sally had spent the night. When they rushed in the door, they found Gwen kneeling on the floor next to the bed. Her mother was lying on her back and looked like she was asleep.
Gwen turned around and stared at them, a shocked expression on her face. “Mom is dead.”
“What!” Stephen cried in an anguished voice, stepping forward.
“No,” Lance choked. “No!” He rushed to the bedside. The others moved closer to see Sally.
“Sally!” Helga cried, reaching out.
Gwen turned around angrily, tears rolling down her face. “Don’t anybody touch my mother! One of you murdered her. Get away from her!”
They all stopped in shock at Gwen’s words and stepped back.
“Are you sure she’s dead?” Yvette asked, her eyes misting with tears.
Gwen nodded. “I’m positive. There’s no pulse and her body is cold. Just like Rachel’s.”
Helga screamed and collapsed on the floor. Yvette bent down to comfort her.
“This can’t be happening!” Stephen cried. “First my wife. Now my mother. What is going on in this house?”
“But, Gwen, why do you think she was murdered?” Glen asked. “Couldn’t it have been a heart attack or a stroke or something?”
Gwen shook her head. “Mom was in perfect health. She just had a full check-up.”
“Maybe it was poison,” Lance said, eyeing Helga.