“You’d think I’d be freaked out now that it’s just me and the girls,” Bess continued. “But I’m weirdly OK with it.”
“Your ex giving you any trouble about splitting up?”
Bess pursed her lips. “Kind of hard to when he was MIA for hours after I’d been shot because he was with another woman.” She and Polly both laughed at this, even though it really wasn’t funny.
“And besides, you’ve got Jason,” Polly teased. She’d given Bess a hard time about that as soon as Bess confessed that she actually knew the homeless man who’d saved them, that she’d been helping him out for a while and they’d actually become friends, of sorts. Bess insisted she didn’t have feelings for him, but Polly wondered. She’d seen him when he had come by to visit Bess after she got home from the hospital. He’d showered and shaved and had on new clothes. He cleaned up good, as they say.
“Oh, I do not,” Bess groused. Then she smiled. “But he did get a job. And he’s looking for an apartment.”
“And how do you know that?” Polly asked, a teasing tone in her voice.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Bess teased back.
The doorbell rang, and Polly went to let Micah in. He was right on time. She threw open the door with a flourish, nearly hitting herself in the face with the wreath she’d hung on the door, festooned with fall leaves and gourds. She’d bought it at the same time she’d bought the pumpkin. The new pumpkin wasn’t as big as the one Norah had bought, but it was good enough. It was all they needed.
The man on the porch wasn’t who she’d expected to find on the other side of the door. It was a man she honestly thought she’d never see again, which would’ve been fine with her. She had to repress a sneer at the sight of the detective. “Yes?” she asked, making herself be cordial. He was a cop, and she didn’t make a habit of being rude to cops.
“Ma’am,” he said. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I came by because I wanted to personally deliver some news. Some good news.” He smiled. She’d never seen him smile before. She didn’t even know that he could.
“We’ve had some new information come to light and, because of that, we were able to offer your daughter a plea deal. I just came from a meeting in which she accepted the deal. Her attorney was going to let you know, but I wanted to be the one to tell you.”
Polly clapped her hands together. “She’s coming home?” she asked, barely believing what she’d just heard.
His face darkened slightly, then went light again, like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. “Well, not right away. We negotiated a three-year sentence, including time served, with the possibility of parole after eighteen months. So in, say, a year and a half, it’s likely she’ll be home.”
“Well, that’s not nearly as bad as I feared,” Polly said.
“Yes, sooner than it would’ve been, had one of our men not found that drive on the grounds. We think she dropped it out there when she saw us coming for her. Not sure how we missed it the first time. But it’s what’s getting her home faster now,” he said. He reached out to shake her hand, but she pushed his hand out of the way and gave him a hug instead.
“You give me news like that, and I don’t settle for a handshake,” she teased him. He blushed and took a step back. He stood there and looked at her for a moment, studying her face, like he was trying to figure her out, trying to see what made her tick. She saw him give up, like so many men had through the years. He bid her goodbye and took his leave.
As the detective went down the front porch steps, Micah came bounding up. The two men passed each other with a nod. Polly greeted Micah much more warmly than she had the detective, calling out for Violet, shooing him into the kitchen to wait there. “Go get yourself a drink out of the fridge. Whatever you want.”
Polly shut the door as Violet came down the stairs. “Was that Micah?” she asked, not bothering to restrain her eagerness. “I thought I heard another voice down here, too.”
“Yes,” Polly said. “Micah’s here. He’s in the kitchen. That detective came by as well.” Better to go ahead and tell Violet the news.
The joy drained out of Violet’s face, quickly replaced by fear. “Did something happen to my mom?”
“Apparently they had a meeting, offered her a deal, which she took.” She smiled at Violet. Though Norah wasn’t being released, she wanted Violet to understand that, based on Norah’s crime, her sentence was light, and they should be grateful.
“Is she coming home?” Violet asked, her voice quavering, caught in the space between hope and disappointment.
“Not right away. She’ll have to do some time in prison. Because she broke some pretty serious laws. But it’s not as bad as I feared, Violet. It could’ve been worse.”
Polly felt the guilt that had been her constant companion since Norah’s arrest swell inside her. Though she felt guilty that the authorities hadn’t discovered her role in Norah’s business, leaving Norah to pay the price alone, she understood Norah had wanted it this way. If Norah was caught, she wouldn’t take anyone down with her. That had been Norah’s plan, and it had mostly worked. Besides, Polly had consoled herself, if she’d gone to jail, who would’ve taken care of Violet?
“How long?” Violet asked. Their eyes met, and Polly could’ve sworn she saw Violet change before her eyes, aging years in those two words.
“Up to three years, but likely just eighteen months.”
“I’ll almost be a senior in high school by then,” Violet said. “She’ll miss everything.”
Polly pulled Violet to her, wrapping her in the hug she’d been wanting to give her ever since the first moment she saw her. “Not everything, honey,” she consoled her, smoothing her hair as she spoke. “She won’t miss everything. We’ll make sure of it.”
Violet pulled back and looked at Polly. “We?”
Polly smiled. “Well, sure, we.”
“You’ll stay with me? For that long?”
Tears filled Polly’s eyes as she looked at her granddaughter. For the first time she didn’t see herself when she looked at her. She saw someone else, someone different, changed by all that she’d been through. Someone stronger, smarter, tougher. Someone who didn’t need the Beaucatcher legacy to define her. Violet, Polly understood, would write her own definition.
“I will stay for as long as you’ll have me,” she told her.
Violet smiled and her eyes shone with unshed tears. In the kitchen the alert signaled the back door had been opened. That sound still made Polly jump. Each time she heard it, she recalled Calvin walking through that door with the gun in his hand. She shuddered at the image.
Violet squeezed her shoulder. “It’s OK, Polly,” she said, understanding without explanation. “He’s gone now.”
“I know,” she said, and gave Violet a brave smile. They started to walk toward the kitchen to see who had arrived, but Violet stopped short and looked at her. “Can I ask you one thing?” Violet said. “About that day?”
Polly’s heart picked up speed. Violet hadn’t talked much about what had happened, and Polly had let her process things at her own pace, in her own way. But she’d known that, eventually, Violet would have questions. “Sure,” she said.
“When he talked about the money. It’s money from my mom’s business, isn’t it?”
Polly wanted to lie. Telling the truth—if Violet ever told anyone—could undo all that Norah had done to protect her and the others. But she wouldn’t lie to her granddaughter. She’d have to trust Violet to keep the secret. “Yes,” she said.
“But I thought you and my mom didn’t speak?”
Polly laughed in spite of herself. “We didn’t,” she said. “And then one day she contacted me. Found me on Facebook and asked to meet. So we did, and she told me her plan. Asked me to join her. She wanted . . .” Polly felt the words swell in her throat, choking her. “She wanted to help me become financially independent so I could stop relying on men. Because she’d seen me do that her whole life. It was
part of why she was so angry at me. She thought it was only because of money that I kept a man around. But with me it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t just about money. If I didn’t have a man, I felt like half of a whole.”
“That’s why you stayed with Calvin even though you had all that money,” Violet said, taking it in and, Polly hoped, learning a thing or two.
“Yes,” Polly said. “I thought he made me better, more valid somehow.” She thought about it. “Well, I used to think that. When I got the call from your dad, I’d been thinking about leaving Calvin, was figuring out my next move.” She winked at Violet. “Then you came along and gave me just that.”
Violet grinned. “So you’re Lois?” she asked.
Polly raised her eyebrows. “Actually, I’m not. I have no idea who Lois is. That was by Norah’s design. She wanted anyone associated with her to have no further knowledge of the operation. Then if we were ever questioned, we’d have plausible deniability. So whoever Lois is, she got off, and she’s somewhere living her life, I guess. Which was the way your mom wanted it.”
“So you and my mom have been in touch all this time?” There was a note of accusation, and hurt, in her voice.
Polly shook her head. “No. That was also part of what Norah called ‘the beauty of it.’ Since we were estranged, I was the last person anyone would suspect. It was hard, knowing it meant we weren’t going to reconcile, but I was glad just to be in her life to whatever extent. I was always hopeful that one day it would lead to more.”
“And now it has,” Violet said.
“Now it has,” Polly said, and squeezed Violet’s hand. In the kitchen their guests laughed, reminding them of their hosting duties.
“Why don’t you go rescue Micah from making awkward small talk, and I’ll be right there. Just going to make sure I locked the front door.” Violet threw her arms around Polly for a quick hug, then darted away, leaving Polly to stand there stunned, and thrilled, for just a moment.
In the kitchen she heard Violet greet Micah and Bess. She heard Casey’s voice and realized that must’ve been who had come in the back door. They were all there. They were all OK. She exhaled and walked back to check the front door. She was headed back to the kitchen to deliver the good news about Norah to everyone else when she heard Casey pose a question, “So are we doing a scary face or a funny face on this pumpkin?”
“Scary,” said Micah.
“Funny,” said Casey, Bess, and Violet in unison.
“Hey,” she heard Micah concede. “That’s three to one. The ladies win.”
Indeed, Polly thought, they do.
Bess
Two Years Later
Bess took off the headset and put it on the desk. She reached up and finger-combed her hair, resisting the urge to put it into a ponytail like she often did. She still needed to get used to her long hair. Her girls loved it and begged her not to cut it back into the pixie style she’d had for all those years.
“It’s a new you,” Casey always told her.
Bess agreed that it was. She was still getting used to the new her. She gripped the extended hand of Bill Parsons, creator and host of the Nosy Neighbor podcast, grateful the recording was over. She’d gotten through unscathed, which had been her goal. Bill and his producers had hounded her to do the podcast until she finally had given in, with the stipulation that he not bring up the shooting, which had nothing to do with Norah’s case and wasn’t something she relished discussing. It was in the past, and Bess preferred to leave it there.
“Were you pleased,” Bill asked, “with how I handled everything?”
“Yes, thank you,” Bess said. “It was tasteful. I appreciate the chance to tell the real story. There were too many rumors flying around. Rumors that implicated people I care about—people who were innocent. It was important to us to set the record straight.”
“Us?” Bill’s eyebrows flew up toward his hairline.
“I mean to those of us who were involved. Neighbors and such.”
He smirked but didn’t press for clarification. “Glad we could do our part. I don’t know how far-reaching the podcast will be, but hopefully it will help.”
“Three million downloads is a good start,” she said.
“You did your research,” he said, preening a bit at her mention of his record.
“Why else did you think I agreed to do this?” She smiled to soften her words.
He smiled back, unfazed. He shifted on his feet, glanced toward the door, and lowered his voice. “I couldn’t help but notice while we were recording that you weren’t wearing a ring, and I wondered . . . if maybe . . . you’d be interested in grabbing lunch with me.” He made a point of looking at his watch, as if his offer were an afterthought. “I mean, it’s lunchtime.”
Bess smiled sweetly. She was slowly getting used to being asked out. It didn’t happen all the time, but it happened enough. “I’ve actually got someone picking me up. I have to be somewhere.”
He looked crestfallen but recovered quickly, resting his hand on her bad shoulder. It still hurt from time to time, but nothing a little ibuprofen wouldn’t take care of.
“Well, the offer’s open. You know how to get in touch with me if you ever change your mind.”
Bess nodded. “I certainly do.” In her head she could hear Nicole’s voice saying, As if. She’d starred as Cher in a production of Clueless for her senior play, and, for better or worse, the phrase had become part of the whole family’s lexicon. “Well,” she said, “I better go. My ride is waiting.”
She made her exit before he could ask her anything else, hurrying out of the studio and down the sidewalk to the parking lot. She made a visor out of her hand and scanned the lot for the car, an older-model blue Ford Explorer. She spotted it and hurried over, tugging the door open and jumping inside with a relieved sigh.
“You survived,” Norah said.
“I survived,” Bess replied, and smiled at her best friend.
“No surprises? He didn’t spring anything on you that you didn’t expect?”
“Nope,” she said. “It went exactly as we discussed in the preproduction meeting.”
Norah backed the car out of the parking spot but kept talking as she drove. “Was he a complete blowhard? He seems like he’s impressed with himself.”
“Just another guy with a superhero complex, thinking he’s saving the world in his own special way.”
“A captain of industry,” Norah said.
“Leaping tall buildings in a single bound.” Bess gave her customary response.
“Looking for a Pepper to his Iron Man,” Norah said.
“Looking for a Lois to his Superman,” Bess replied, and they smiled at each other at the stoplight.
Norah launched into one of her diatribes on the male species again, but Bess tuned her out. She was only repeating the things they’d said on that night long ago, when it had all begun, the night Norah had confessed to Bess how she’d found a “growth opportunity,” as she’d called it, one that could make them both financially secure. “You could leave Steve,” she’d said. It had been one of those nights where the wine was flowing liberally. They’d both been drunk.
“Leave Steve,” Bess had repeated. And the rhyme had seemed hilarious. Though her life with Steve had been far from funny. At the time, leaving him had seemed impossible. She had no way of supporting herself. Her daughters were still young. How would she work and care for them, too? She admired Norah, but she didn’t think she could be like her.
Norah laid out the plan that night, an idea that had taken shape thanks to two of her marketing clients—one launching an online dating service and one opening a spa. The dating service owner told her she was getting more requests for escorts than dates—“company for the evening,” the men called it. The spa owner said that a male customer had insinuated she could make a lot more money by “branching out” into other services besides the massages she offered in the back rooms. Norah connected the two conversations in her mind, hatchin
g a plan that ultimately the two business owners had gone along with. They could make real money, Norah said. And all they would be doing is what they’d been doing in one form or another for years for free: making a man feel important and good about himself.
“You want me to sleep with men I don’t know for money?” Bess had felt her happy buzz replaced with the sobering reality of what Norah seemed to be seriously considering.
“No,” Norah quickly reassured her. “We won’t have to do that. Though, trust me, there are women who will. I’ve already got some lines in the water. It would surprise you who.”
“Who?” Bess couldn’t resist.
Norah waved away the details. “We’ll get into that later. But it’s women you’d never suspect. That’s the beauty of it.” Norah had raised her eyebrows. “No one else will, either.”
Was this foolhardy, or too good to be true? Either way, it wasn’t for her. She hoped this would just be a get-rich-quick scheme for Norah, something she’d forget about next week.
But Norah kept talking. “All we have to do is run the administrative side. Coordinate things. I’ll handle most everything. I just need someone who knows what to do so that if something happens to me, that person can step in and shut the operation down quickly and efficiently. And no one’s more efficient than you.” She gave Bess the side-eye.
“So you need a Pepper to your Iron Man, is what you’re saying,” Bess teased, still trying to keep things light, to pretend this wasn’t happening.
Norah nodded and smiled. “A Lois to my Superman.”
“I wouldn’t want to deal with actual money,” Bess said, going along with it. Later she intended to tell her an emphatic no. But later never came.
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