Yesterday

by Fern Michaels

  Callie wasn’t driving the car. She could sense it, smell it, feel it. “I will never, ever believe Callie Parker was driving Wyn Archer’s Cadillac on the night of the accident,” she muttered.

  Proving it was another matter.

  Brie Canfield, you are an irresponsible cop. Nobody in her right mind would do what you just did. That makes you a fool. If I’d proved my case would I still be irresponsible, would I still be a fool? Yes, yes, yes.

  If she had had a tail, it would have been between her legs when she let herself into the kitchen.

  Pearl was standing by the stove stirring a pan full of peppers and onions. Sausage and peppers for dinner, her favorite. She’d meant to return earlier and cook herself. Instead she’d been out playing cop, and Pearl was doing dinner. She ran to her and blurted out what she’d just done.

  Pearl cradled her in her arms while she murmured soothing words of comfort. “It’s all right, Miz Brie. You didn’t cause no harm and you was only trying to do good for my baby. The Lord won’t hold that agin you. You listen to Pearl now. I’m fixing your favorite supper. You wash up and go look at what Arquette done for Miz Sela.”

  Brie blew her nose in a paper napkin that Pearl handed her. “He was driving that car, Pearl. I know it.”

  “I knowed it, too, Miz Brie. That’s why I gave him pain and sorrow.”

  “You know what, Pearl? You need to give him another dose,” Brie cried.

  Sela risked a look at her watch. It was after nine. For some reason she thought the quick bite Wyn had suggested would have been over by eight and she’d be back at the manor house by eight-thirty. Now it was nine-thirty and Wyn was suggesting they go over to the hotel for a nightcap. She really didn’t want a nightcap. What she wanted to do was rush home to Pearl and Brie and tell them she had got the job and would be starting in two days. She wanted to see Pearl beam her pleasure and have Brie clap her on the back. But Wyn looked so sad, so woebegone, she didn’t have the heart to tell him no, she wanted to go home.

  “It will have to be a quick one, Wyn. I’ve only had a few hours’ sleep in three days, and don’t forget I spent over fourteen hours on the road yesterday. I’m not as young as I used to be,” she trilled.

  “I understand. Tonight was pleasant. I enjoyed your company. I knew Stan and his partner would take you on in a minute once they saw you. It’s just that I hate going back to the motel. I’ve been thinking of going home to Beaufort. What do you think, Sela?”

  “I think that first part sounded like a sexist remark. Are you saying I got hired because of the way I look? If Brie was here, she’d punch your lights out for a remark like that. Yes, I think you should go back to Beaufort. Motels aren’t meant to be lived in. It’s foolish for you and even Pearl, to sit at the hospital twelve and fourteen hours a day. You look terrible, Wyn. I think you need to fall back and regroup.”

  Wyn snorted his disdain as he held the door of his brand-new Cadillac for Sela to get in. “Buckle up,” he ordered curtly. Settled behind the wheel, he said, “Isn’t that why you wore that outfit? It looks to me like someone poured you into it. I’m not saying it’s unbecoming. Men like to look . . . What they like to see is . . .”

  “Sexy women.” Sela chuckled. “And since I’m going to be selling commercial real estate I will be dealing mostly with men. Whatever it takes, Wyn. That’s how I look at it.”

  “It’s going to be interesting to see you tramping fields in spike-heeled shoes and tight pants.” Wyn smiled.

  In the hotel, he guided Sela to the bar and ordered Perrier for himself. “The same,” Sela said. “I’m driving. I can’t believe we’re both drinking water.”

  “There’s a lot of things I can’t believe lately.” Wyn sounded morose.

  “Things will get better—because they can’t get any worse,” Sela said cheerfully.

  “Of course they can get worse. Callie could die,” Wyn said flatly.

  “That’s a possibility, but surely it helps if you think positively. Everything happens for a reason, Wyn. So, you think it was wrong of me to wear this jumpsuit, huh?”

  “Maybe inappropriate is the word.”

  “You said we were going to Shoney’s. Casual attire is okay there. Then you switched up on me, and it was too late to go home and change. I got the job, so what’s the difference? Oh, I get it. You’re comparing me to Callie. Let me put it this way. Callie was prim and proper—is prim and proper. She likes little round collars and dimity. Peter Pan-ish look. Brie is sporty. She likes comfort. I prefer elegance and style. That’s why we’re different people. There’s nothing wrong with any of us. It helps to make us who we are. Like Bode. I don’t think he even owns a suit. Maybe a sport jacket. Sometimes clothes make the man and sometimes they don’t. You take Kallum now. I’ve never seen that man look anything but perfect. I often wonder how he does it. You always look nice, Wyn,” she added as an afterthought. “Listen, I’d like to finish this drink, but you need to take me back to pick up my car. I told you I should have followed you. Now we both have to go out of our way.”

  “I don’t have anything else to do,” Wyn said.

  “I feel bad about that, Wyn. Life goes on. Try and make the effort.”

  “I will. Thanks for coming with me. Listen, would it be out of line for me to take you to dinner over the weekend?”

  “I don’t see why it would be. We’re friends. We’ll probably spend the whole evening talking about Callie or playing, Do You Remember? I have to tell you, sometimes I hate that game.”

  “Me too. Pearl and Brie might have something to say about our meeting.”

  “Then I won’t tell them. I’m my own person, Wyn. Remember that.”

  It was ten minutes past eleven when Sela walked into the kitchen. Her eyes narrowed at what she saw. Brie was chopping celery and onions and Pearl was cubing bread for the stuffing that would go into the turkey. They were both laughing as Brie wiped at her eyes. Sela looked around to see if there was something she could do. She asked.

  “Pearl and I have it under control,” Brie told her, still giggling. “Why don’t you sit down and watch—you do that best. Or you could go and see what Arquette did to your room. It’s not finished—and guess what: you’re going to have to sleep on that scratchy couch because there’s Sheetrock dust all over your room. Where the hell have you been?”

  “Now, that’s the Brie I know and love, nasty and mean. I got the job. I start in two days—Saturday!”

  “That’s nice, Miz Sela.”

  “Congratulations,” Brie said. “I hope you make a lot of money.”

  “I expect to. Commissions are higher on commercial real estate.”

  “Better buy a pair of snake boots. You’ll probably be able to write them off. You know how you hate snakes.”

  “They’re on my list,” Sela snapped. “Listen, I’m going to put on my pajamas and help.”

  “Where were you, Sela?” Brie asked again.

  “Oscar’s. Then I stopped at the hotel with Wyn and had a drink. Don’t look at me like that, we both had Perrier. Wyn didn’t want to go back to the motel. I told him I thought it was time for him to return to Beaufort to get on with his life. I thought . . . it would be good for Pearl if she didn’t have to see him so much. He does need to get on with life. We all do,” Sela said defensively. “Go on, say it. You think I screwed up.”

  “I told you how I feel about Wyn. You know how Pearl feels. You eat with him and drink with him. Should I consider that betrayal, Sela?”

  “You’re full of it, Brie. He helped me get this job, that is all. I didn’t see anyone else pounding on the door. No one else offered.”

  “You get off it. He’s the only one you asked. Now, why is that, Sela?”

  “He’s the one with the most clout,” Sela snapped.

  “If you’d gone to the Judge and told him Bode sent you, he’d have had something lined up in an hour. Bet you didn’t think about that, huh?”

  “As a matter of fact, I didn’t. Look, I’m
only going to say this one more time. Until you can prove Wyn was responsible for Callie’s accident, I’m going to keep an open mind.”

  “That’s your problem, Sela, your mind is so open, nothing can stay in it. And don’t you worry one little bit—I am going to prove Wyn had something to do with that accident. Another thing I don’t want you to forget is that I’m an FBI agent and what that means to you, Sela, is that I will have the best minds, the best techniques, the best of everything, at my disposal. One last thing,” Brie hissed. “If I ever find out you talk to him about us, meaning Pearl and me and Bode, I will personally slice off your silicone tits. Remember that.”

  “You girls stop fussing now and get on with your slicing, and I mean celery and onions,” Pearl said.

  Sela flounced off down the hall. Brie winked at Pearl, who turned her head so her grin wouldn’t be seen.

  “He’s a dickweed,” Brie mumbled.

  Pearl frowned, rolled the word over her tongue. “What is that, Miz Brie?”

  “It’s sort of like a jerk only a hundred times worse,” Brie muttered.

  “It don’t sound to me like a proper word. Shame on you, Miz Brie. Dickweed.”

  “Who’s a dickweed?” came Sela’s voice from the doorway.

  Instead of answering her, Brie said, “I didn’t know they still made satin pajamas. Where’d you get them? Wait, let me guess. They’re Hugh Hefner’s castoffs.”

  “Stuff it, Brie. What do you want me to do?”

  “Peel the sweet potatoes and let them soak in cold water. Pick through the cranberries and wash them. But first, why don’t you make us some coffee?”

  “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I can see your point. Be fair and look at my point. I’m not a cop, Brie. I don’t think like you. I go by what I see and hear. Let’s start over, okay?”

  “Sure. Sela, please don’t tell Wyn what we talk about.”

  “I won’t. Don’t look at me like that, Brie. If I say I won’t do something, I won’t do it. Can’t you trust me?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry, Sela. We need to stop snapping at each other. We’re a family here. We’re all we have. I’ve said my last thing to you, Sela. You know where I stand and how I feel. You know how Pearl feels. We pretty much know how you feel. What I’m trying to say is let’s not spoil what we have.”

  “Hear, hear!” Sela said, holding the coffeepot aloft. “Thanks, Brie. I mean that.”

  “How about you taking a crack at these onions? My tear ducts are about wiped out.”

  “My pleasure. I just love stuffing. I can make a meal on it alone as long as I have gravy to pour over it. All the other stuff is good, too. I’m going to pig out and then I’ll watch what I eat afterward,” Sela said happily.

  “I wish Bode was here. Callie, too, of course. It’s not going to be the same,” Brie mourned.

  “We need to be giving thanks that things ain’t worse than they are,” Pearl said.

  “Amen,” Sela trilled.

  “I think we should call Bode and wish him a Happy Thanksgiving. I do it every year. In fact, I’ve never missed a year. I always called Callie, too. So did you, Sela. Pearl, don’t you think we should call?”

  “No, chile, I don’t. Bode will most prob’ly come for Christmas.”

  Brie crossed her fingers. “Maybe he will, Pearl. Let’s count on it.”

  “Bode knows how much we love Christmas. He’ll come,” Sela said breezily. “He won’t disappoint us.”

  Bode proved them all wrong.

  13

  “I didn’t know you owned blue jeans,” Brie said at breakfast. “Boots too. Hmmmn. And a shearling jacket. Isn’t that a waste of money down here? We only get a few really cold days during the winter. I’m making breakfast—what will you have?”

  “Just coffee. I have a breakfast meeting. Listen, I won’t be home until late. I’m going up to Columbia, and I might get held up, so don’t wait supper for me. This jacket, smarty-pants, is from New York. I used to wear it all the time in the winter. In case you haven’t checked, it’s damn cold out today. Forty degrees when I looked.” Sela yawned and peered out of the window.

  “Hey, check out the camellias,” she went on. “I swear every single one is in bloom. Do you want me to pick a bouquet before I leave? They might brighten up Callie’s room. God, I can’t believe how beautiful this place is when they flower. When you tell people up North that camellias bloom here in cold weather, they look at you like you’re from another planet. Oh, one last thing—a photographer called and wanted to know if he could come out here and take some pictures of the garden for the Sunday paper. I said it was okay. Don’t get spooked if you see someone strange. Thanks for the coffee, it was good,” Sela said, backing out of the door. A moment later she stuck her head in again, and asked, “Did you have any luck with Pearl? Will she see a doctor? Are we going to call Bode?”

  “No to everything, so far, but today’s another day. Pearl isn’t up yet. That worries me. She’s always up with the chickens.”

  “Maybe she has a hag on her head this morning. You know what to do—just get the colander and put it under her bed. Gotta run.”

  Wyn was waiting in a booth when Sela walked into Shoney’s. She waved airily, removing her jacket at the same time. The cashmere sweater, another holdover from her New York marriage when her husband paid the bills, was formfitting, outlining her breasts. Every man in the restaurant turned to look at her skintight jeans. Wyn grinned when she slipped into the seat opposite him.

  “So, Wynfield Archer, what are your plans for the day?” she asked nonchalantly.

  “I have a mind to play hookey today. Like you, I’m wearing casual clothes. I can do anything—took at property, find an ice-skating rink, or climb a tree. I even have a tie in my pocket in case I find a fancy restaurant that requires one. I have a yen to get in the car and just drive. We could get on the highway and head up to Myrtle Beach if you like the idea. Didn’t you say you had a client interested in property for a golf course? There’s lots of golfing in Myrtle Beach. What do you say—want to play hookey with me?”

  “I’d be delighted. I’ve been working my tail off, and I need a break. Providing the whole damn town doesn’t hear about it. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit to learn that they know all about our . . . meeting. I didn’t tell Brie or Pearl I was contemplating this. Their minds are pretty closed when it comes to you.”

  “They won’t hear it from me,” Wyn said. “Tell you what, when we leave here let’s drive separately to the Holiday Inn and you can leave your car there. We’ve done it before so there’s no problem.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’m starved.” To the hovering waitress Sela said, “Two scrambled eggs, extra crisp bacon, two buckwheat pancakes on a separate plate. Warm the syrup, please. Two slices of whole-wheat toast. A large orange juice and coffee now.”

  “I’ll have the same,” Wyn said, his eyebrows shooting upward. “Do you eat like this all the time?”

  “Only when someone else is paying the bill. I either eat lunch or breakfast; I never eat both. So, Wyn, how’s it all going?”

  “Will everything I say find its way back to Parker Manor? Do I have to weigh each word? If so, this little foray is going to be a real downer.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Wyn. I know when to open my mouth and when to keep it closed. Let’s talk, over breakfast, about all the stuff we won’t talk about today, okay?”

  “Sure. What do you want to ask me?”

  “Nothing really. Well, maybe a few things. Have you seen Callie since you . . . put her in that awful place. It is awful, Wyn.”

  “I stopped in to see her late last night. The place is not picture-pretty, but it’s not dirty. They have plenty of help. Callie is being seen to. Her room sparkles, and I know that’s thanks to Pearl. Nothing has changed. Actually, it’s rather cheerful. I was told Pearl’s friend Arquette took over a comfortable chair for Pearl. There were flowers on the windowsill, and Arquette’s wife sent over a braided rug. The b
edspread on the bed is all kinds of colors. The room doesn’t look like a room in a convalescent home.”

  “What will happen if, say, Pearl can’t take care of Callie anymore? She’s getting old, Wyn.”

  “It’s one of those situations where we have to wait and see. I’ll do my best for Callie. I can’t help it if you don’t approve.

  “Was Callie canceling the wedding because of Bode?” Wyn asked quietly.

  “I don’t know, Wyn. What I do know is she was very upset that you didn’t tell her about Bode’s going-away luncheon. The Judge was offended with her for not attending. Then there was Bode himself, who wasn’t going to be at the reception and the wedding. The job he promised her didn’t materialize. Maybe it was a lot of things. It was possible she needed time to think things through. Callie was never one to take any kind of change without making a fuss. She liked everything to stay the same—no surprises. God, how she hated going North to college. We talked so much, over the phone, in the beginning. Callie never wanted to hang up, and she always cried when we said good-bye. I know she spent her whole allowance on her phone bill.”

  “Callie was so fragile, so loving, so loyal,” Wyn said sadly.

  “She was all those things, I agree. Sometimes she acted impulsively, but when that happened she worked doubly hard to make up for whatever she thought she did wrong. It was a surprise to me, Wyn, when Pearl told us Callie was canceling the wedding. Apparently her mind was made up. She wasn’t just mouthing words.”

  “I think it was because of Bode,” he said.

  “You really hate him, don’t you?”

  “Hate is a very strong word. I don’t like him. Now that I think back, all Callie did was talk about Bode. It was Bode said this or we had to do it Bode’s way. He was the best at everything. Callie said everyone loved Bode. It appears to be true. Judge Summers thinks Bode Jessup is a one-of-a-kind saint. I believe he stays in touch with Bode.”

  Sela felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “What makes you say that?” she asked, chewing on her bacon.