Peony Street

by Pamela Grandstaff

  “What are we going to do now?” Hannah said. “How will we find out who killed your friend?”

  “I was all for believing Knox or Meredith killed Tuppy until yesterday. Now I’m thinking Tuppy must have had something on Sloan, something really bad or she wouldn’t have brought her thugs here.”

  “You think Sloan had someone kill him?”

  “Everybody who was there that night lied about something, but each person also told me something true; I just have to sort it all out.”

  Maggie came through the door.

  “I worked your mother’s shift at my mother’s bakery and lived to tell about it,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Claire said.

  “I’m headed up to the Inn after lunch to cover Delia’s shift,” Hannah said. “You want me to sneak up to the second floor and spy on Sloan?”

  “Better not,” Claire said. “These are not friendly people, and Stanley is probably armed.”

  “Your hair looks better,” Maggie said to Hannah.

  “We always look better after Claire’s been home a week,” Hannah said.

  Hannah left without putting on her ball cap and Claire was touched.

  Maggie sat down in the hydraulic chair and spun around a few times, just like Hannah had.

  “Your dad’s at the service station,” Maggie said. “Uncle Curtis will take him over to the bar at lunchtime.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys,” Claire said.

  “We’re your family,” Maggie said. “This is what we do. When one cog in the Fitzpatrick fun machine breaks down, another cog fills in.”

  “Your mom doesn’t seem to be slowing down or falling apart,” Claire said.

  “If you don’t have a heart it can’t be attacked,” Maggie said. “Plus she’s too mean for germs to live on her very long.”

  “I only worked there Monday morning and I’m still sore.”

  “Is that how you hurt your hand?”

  “Yeah, let’s say that.”

  “So I guess you won’t be volunteering to take over the bakery when Mom retires,” Maggie said.

  “No way,” Claire said. “Are you?”

  “No, thank you. When that old lady finally lays down her rolling pin the business will be sold or closed.”

  “How’s your dad?”

  “Come see him this evening. He’s been asking about you.”

  “When’s a good time?”

  “Call first,” Maggie said. “That way if he’s too drunk or passed out you won’t waste your time.”

  “Still done with doctors?”

  “Oh, yes,” Maggie said. “He hasn’t changed his mind about that. His back is still so screwed up he can barely walk. After Grandpa Tim and Brian died he gave up hiding the booze. Now he and my mother live under the same roof but never speak a word to each other. It makes family dinners so much fun.”

  “If he can’t get around how does he get the alcohol?”

  “Doc gives him the pills and Patrick gives him the booze. When he finally has too much of both and keels over, they’ll have to share the blame.”

  “Everything’s so depressing today,” Claire said. “Let’s flat iron your hair.”

  “I was hoping you’d offer,” Maggie said. “It hasn’t been done since the last time you were home.”

  When Maggie lay back in the shampoo chair her unruly red hair filled and exceeded the capacity of the bowl. Claire wet it with the sprayer and it instantly deflated. Claire washed it, deep-conditioned it, rinsed it, and then treated it with an anti-frizzing serum before leading Maggie back to the hydraulic chair. Clair pumped the chair up as high as it would go and started detangling the matted mess from the bottom, using a wide tooth comb.

  “Where’s your little dog?” Maggie said. “I heard it’s really cute.”

  “Skippy’s mom has it,” Claire said. “She’s like my daycare now. She’s knitting Mackie a little sweater that I’m terribly afraid she will be forced to wear home today.”

  “Ouch, Claire,” Maggie said. “You’re pulling too hard.”

  “You’d think that when God gives you hair like this you’d get a tougher scalp to go with it,” Claire said. “Once I get it detangled I’m going to trim it just a little before I blow dry it. You’re going to be here at least an hour, so start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out. The last time I saw you Scott was still chasing you around and Gabe hadn’t come back.”

  Maggie got her caught up on the events of the past few years while Claire detangled her hair and then pinned it up in sections so she could blow dry the underneath first, using a large flat paddle brush. She had the flat iron heating up on the counter.

  “So after Grandpa Tim died and Brian got killed Gabe disappeared again,” Maggie said half an hour later. “That was three years ago.”

  “You think Gabe had something to do with Brian’s death?”

  “No,” Maggie said. “The feds let Gabe out of prison early so he could testify against the drug dealer we think killed Brian. One of the drug dealer’s thugs kidnapped Gabe and Scott and tried to drown them in the river. Gabe escaped and Scott got rescued but I’m not entirely sure which one of them killed the thug. Gabe disappeared right after that and no one has seen him since.”

  “I always thought Gabe was such a nice guy,” Claire said. “I can’t believe he did all those things.”

  “He had us all fooled.”

  “I hate it when someone doesn’t live up to my expectations,” Claire said. “But it seems to happen all the time, so maybe it’s my fault for having unrealistic expectations in the first place.”

  “I lived with him for three years and I had no idea Gabe was a drug dealing ex-con,” Maggie said. “Even after I knew he was a liar and a criminal, I still believed he loved me; for a little while, at least.”

  “The heart is not the best judge of character,” Claire said, and looked Maggie in the eye in the mirror.

  “No,” Maggie said, meeting her gaze. “It’s not.”

  “So what about Scott?”

  Maggie shrugged.

  “C’mon,” Claire said. “It’s me you’re talking to. We don’t have any secrets.”

  “I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time with Scott,” Maggie said. “Any secrets you’d care to share?”

  “He’s been a life saver and a great friend,” Claire said, “but that’s all.”

  “He’s always there when you need him,” Maggie said. “He’s the best man I know.”

  “So why aren’t you with him?” Claire said. “He’d take you back today if you’d let him.”

  “Sometimes,” Maggie said, “you can put someone through too much. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for someone you love is to let them go.”

  “You’re wrong about that,” Claire said. “He doesn’t want to be let go.”

  “I’ve burned that bridge,” Maggie said. “Trust me on that.”

  “And Scott thinks he’s to blame,” Claire said. “Clearly y’all need to talk.”

  “I’ve moved on,” Maggie said.

  “To the professor Hannah keeps talking about?”

  “He’s just a friend,” Maggie said. “Just like you and Scott.”

  Claire didn’t meet Maggie’s gaze in the mirror.

  “Look how long your hair is when it’s straight,” Claire said. “It looks about a third as thick, too.”

  “It’s just too much hair, isn’t it? Be honest with me.”

  “I think we should take off some more length but not do anything drastic.”

  “Let’s cut it,” Maggie said. “Let’s cut it all off.”

  “I’ll buy it from you,” Sloan said from the doorway.

  Maggie and Claire were startled, not having heard the door open.

  “How much do you want for it?” Sloan asked Maggie.

  Sloan hadn’t made a movie star entrance, and in her casual clothes she looked just like the well-heeled tourists who swarmed Pine Mountain. Maggie didn�
��t seem to recognize her, and Claire could tell from her cousin’s bored expression that she wasn’t impressed.

  “Tourists,” her look seemed to say, “are so tiresome.”

  “It’s not for sale,” Maggie said, and Claire felt a frisson of apprehension at how Sloan might react to Maggie’s blunt refusal. No one talked to Sloan Merryweather like that and got away with it.

  Before she could react, Sam and Hannah came in, holding hands with Sammy between them. As soon as Hannah saw Sloan her eyes widened and she dropped Sammy’s hand.

  “Sloan Merryweather!” she said. “Can I have your autograph?”

  Sloan smiled.

  “Of course you can; how sweet of you to ask.”

  “Who?” Maggie said.

  Sloan gave Maggie a seriously cutting side eye that no one but Claire seemed to notice.

  “Sloan Merryweather,” Hannah said to Maggie. “She was in Tweethearts and that remake of All About Eve called Bumpy Night. You know, Sloan Merryweather.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes at Claire. Sloan took a sticky note off the front counter and used a pen attached to a chain there to write something. She then handed the note to Hannah. She then wrote on another note and handed it to Maggie.

  “I’m not really an autograph collector,” Maggie said.

  “That’s what I’m prepared to pay for your hair,” Sloan said. “It’s for a cancer charity I represent. They make wigs for kids who lose their hair from chemo treatments.”

  “She’s not interested,” Claire said.

  “You’d pay me that much?” Maggie said. “That’s more than my store nets in a year.”

  “What business is that?” asked Sloan. “I’m thinking of investing in this area.”

  “It’s the bookstore down the street,” Maggie said.

  “It’s not for sale,” Claire hastened to add.

  “Everything’s for sale,” Sloan said quietly, while looking at Claire.

  Claire introduced Sammy to Sloan. Sammy stuck his tongue out at her, but Sloan’s eyes were on Sam. She was looking him up and down in an appraising manner.

  “These are my friends Sam and Hannah Campbell,” Claire said, “and here comes Scott.”

  Scott walked in and pretended to try to catch Sammy, who scurried around behind his father.

  “Sam Campbell,” Sloan said. “Isn’t this the guy you went skinny dipping with in high school?”

  Claire felt all the air go out of her lungs and couldn’t remember how to inhale. Of all the personal details about her life that Claire had been unwise enough to share with Sloan, who could not have cared less, this was the one tidbit she chose to remember.

  “What?!” Hannah said, and Claire could clearly see how vulnerable she was to what Sloane was about to dish out. It would be like kicking a puppy, a cruelty of which Mackie Pea knew Sloane was perfectly capable.

  Before Claire could think of how to respond, Scott did.

  “No, that was me,” he said.

  “What?!” Maggie said, but the look she gave Claire was more pissed off pit bull than kicked puppy.

  “Didn’t I ever tell you about that?” Scott said to Maggie. “Patrick and Sam went to a keg party at Fitz’s hunting cabin and ditched Claire and me out at the lake. We drank all the beer in Theo’s boathouse.”

  “Claire?” Maggie said.

  “Claire?” Hannah said.

  Claire was picturing her name being added to the top of the dry erase board of shame in Maggie’s bookstore. She’d be banned for life.

  “Remember how cold the water was?” Scott asked Claire.

  “Sure,” Claire said, while intentionally avoiding everyone’s eyes.

  “Unfortunately it was too dark to see anything,” Scott said. “Claire told me if I touched her she would kill me.”

  “Holy hottentots!” Hannah said. “How did you keep that a secret?”

  “Where was Ed?” Maggie asked Scott. “You two were always joined at the hip.”

  “That was the summer Brad drowned,” Scott said, and Claire was impressed with how smoothly he embellished his lie. “Ed wasn’t allowed out at the lake after that.”

  Maggie stood up and pulled on her jacket.

  “How much do I owe you?” she asked Claire in an icy tone.

  “On the house,” Claire said.

  “Oh dear,” Sloane said. “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

  “It was no big deal,” Claire said. “Just a late night swim with a friend.”

  “I was kind of disappointed,” Scott said, “at the time.”

  Maggie left in a huff with Scott on her heels, and Sloane looked smugly satisfied.

  “You just love creating the drama, don’t you?” Claire said to her. “You just have to stir things up and try to make a fool out of me.”

  Sloane shrugged and tried to look innocent.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “You’re not that great of an actress,” Claire said.

  “I think the Academy of Arts and Sciences might disagree with you on that point,” Sloane said. “And as far as making a fool of you, that’s Carlyle’s forte, not mine.”

  “Hey,” Hannah said. “That’s my cousin you’re talking to. Watch your mouth.”

  Sloan turned on Hannah before Claire could intervene.

  “Looks like Claire took all the pretty DNA and left you with the rest.”

  “Stop it,” Claire said. “I won’t let you do this to my family.”

  “Don’t stop her! This is better than a movie,” Hannah said. “I wish I had some popcorn.”

  “C’mon,” Sam said, hoisting the squirmy Sammy a little higher in his arms. “Let’s get Junior home and put him down for a nap.”

  “I’m not ready to go,” Hannah said. “I wanna see what she looks like when she’s really mad, not just pretending to be mad. Her face is so jacked up I can’t tell what she’s actually feeling. Isn’t that important for an actress, Sloan, to be able to demonstrate emotions?”

  “C’mon, hon,” Sam said to Hannah, and made the briefest eye contact with Claire. There was relief in his eyes.

  “So nice to meet you, Sam,” Sloane said, “And your wife, Anna, of course.”

  “I know you know my name’s Hannah,” Hannah said. “But I don’t even mind the insult, coming from you. You’re just as pretty as you were in that movie where you played the prostitute. I was sorry to hear your husband was carrying on with the actress who played your daughter. I guess all the money and fame in the world are no guarantee you’ll be happy.”

  Sloane’s face turned beet red and Sam tugged Hannah’s arm to get her to follow him out.

  “What do I always tell you about torturing the tourists?” Sam said to his wife. “It doesn’t keep them from coming back; it just irritates them.”

  “I’d like to know what in the world your handsome husband sees in you,” Sloane said to Hannah. “You’re not even ugly in an interesting way. You’re just plain forgettable.”

  “Alright, that’s enough,” Sam said, but Hannah just laughed in Sloane’s face.

  “You’re just gonna keep getting older, lady,” Hannah said. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

  Sammy stuck his tongue out at Sloane over his father’s shoulder. Hannah was still holding the post-it note with Sloan’s signature on it, and she waved it goodbye to them as they went out.

  “What horribly ordinary people,” Sloan said. “I don’t know how you can stand being associated with such boring nobodies.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you wearing, Claire?” Sloan said. “You look like a teamster.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Stanley didn’t want me to come,” Sloan said. “But I wanted to see you, to warn you in person.”

  “About what?”

  “What might happen if you accuse me of arranging Tuppy’s accident.”

  “Did you?”

  “Of course not.”


  “Then why worry?”

  “It’s not the kind of press I need right now,” Sloan said. “The focus needs to be on my engagement to Carlyle, the film being released in October, and then the Oscar campaign.”

  “By all means,” Claire said. “Let’s remember what’s really important.”

  “Don’t be ugly, Claire,” Sloan said. “It’s not your style and you can’t win. I’ve got more money and better lawyers.”

  “And no conscience.”

  “If I did send someone to rough up Tuppy and he died as a result, why would I then come here and put myself right in the middle of the investigation? That would be pretty stupid, wouldn’t it?”

  “I’ve asked myself that,” Claire said. “And you know what? I think you’d do it just for kicks; because you get off on the risk and the drama; because you really believe you can get away with anything. And why not? You always have.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Sloan said. “You have an overactive imagination. Lucky for me I have a signed confidentiality agreement with your name on it. I could confess anything to you and there’s nothing you could do about it.”

  “Go away, Sloan,” Claire said. “There’s no way in hell I’m coming back to work for you.”

  Sloan just pretended she didn’t hear Claire as she checked herself out in the wall of mirrors behind the styling stations, turning this way and that.

  “Ayelet wants me to adopt an orphan to be delivered between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Either that or pretend to be pregnant and hire someone else to actually carry the brat.”

  “But you don’t like children.”

  “I won’t have to spend much time with it,” Sloan said. “What do you think of ‘Always’ as a name? That’s what Ayelet suggests.”

  “Why not Artichoke or Asparagus?” Claire said. “If you’re going to be silly about it.”

  “That would be asinine,” Sloan said. “Everyone knows when it comes to baby names you choose fruits, not vegetables.”

  “You couldn’t even take care of that dog,” Claire said. “You’ll have to hire three nannies to raise one child. There’s a lot that can go wrong, you know. It’s easier to get rid of a dog than a child.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I wasn’t referring to anything.”

  “You can’t talk about that.”