She dug her toes into the sand and wondered how old each separate grain could be. Old enough to have been through an awful lot. Old enough to watch the earth change again and again. Old enough to know that nothing much in the short life of a human being was worth suffering for.
The storm came up fast, the gray disappearing into rolling clouds. Wind blew the lake into waves falling over each other. Jenny stood watching the storm coming at her until it began to rain.
By the time she got back to her car, she was soaked. Her hair hung in pasted bunches. Back in the car, with the heater on, she smelled like wet wool.
She drove toward Tony’s house. How she looked had nothing to do with what she had to ask him.
* * *
She pushed the heavy wooden door to his carpentry shop open and went in with the wind rushing behind her.
Tony was bent over a long table, drawing a pattern onto a piece of wood. When he looked up, at first he was bothered, then surprised to see her.
“Come on in.” He took small pieces of plywood from a chair and brushed off the sawdust. “Sit down. You’re soaked,” he said and filled a kettle with water to set on the two-burner stove at the back of the shop.
He made her a cup of tea while she shivered, hunched in the chair.
“I couldn’t talk to you last night,” she finally said, the cup of tea warming her hands. “Yesterday was awful.”
“I can only imagine.” He pulled a chair up in front of her and sat down. “Do they know anything? Was it a burglary? They’re saying today that the house was ransacked. The police are asking anybody with any information, something they noticed or saw while driving by her house, to come forward. Doesn’t look like they’ve got a suspect. Usually, in a place as small as Traverse, somebody always knows something.”
The questions wound down as she looked at him but didn’t answer.
He rubbed at his grizzled face, then ran a finger over a scar on his hand. When he looked at her, he shook his head and then looked down. “We’ve got to talk about this.”
“I don’t even know what ‘this’ is, Tony.”
“I know.” He shook his head. “How the hell could you? I haven’t been able to face you.”
“Something big,” she said and tried to smile but failed.
He tried to take her hand between his, but she slowly pulled away from him.
“I should have told you from the first.” He looked down and shook his head.
Jenny wanted to touch him so badly. She wanted to put her fingers in his hair.
“I haven’t been honest. Not with you or anybody else. Not since I first came here.” He looked up, his eyes going over her face. “Honest to God, Jenny. I didn’t think it mattered. This was a new life. I didn’t have any plans beyond setting up this shop. See if I could make a living here. That’s all I was thinking about. As far as who I was or about my personal life . . .” He shrugged. “I didn’t think it was anybody’s business.”
“What’s changed?” she asked. “Me?”
He nodded. “And me.”
“You better get it over with.” Her body was tight. She felt the same way she did every time things blew up on her.
“I’m married.”
She took in what he said and sat there looking at him. She finally nodded.
“I see.” There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, or at least she couldn’t find the right words. “Maybe you should have mentioned it before.”
He nodded his head again and again. “I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re right. You never mentioned you were married. Guess I should’ve asked.”
He took her hand and held it. She didn’t pull away.
“Where’s your wife?” she asked.
“We’re separated. Jan went to live in New York, with her mother. We were going to give it a year.”
“You’ve lived here longer than that. Why isn’t she with you?”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t right. She didn’t want live in Bear Falls, and I didn’t want to move to New York. We just let it go. Jan’s in no hurry to get married again. I didn’t think I would ever find somebody.”
Jenny looked away from him. “You could have told me before . . .”
“I know. I’m a coward. I didn’t want to mess up anything. When I met you I thought you were a great person, but not for me. Just coming out of a divorce like you were. Next thing I knew, all I wanted to do was talk to you and see you.”
“What’s changed? We could have talked about this.”
“Jan wants us to get back together.”
Blindsided again. The woman with him at the Brew.
“So you just kept on lying. Pretending she’d go away and I’d never know.”
“No.” He shook his head hard. “Nothing like that. I had it all planned, and then Jan showed up and I didn’t know what to do. So damned mad at myself.”
“Is she moving here?”
He shook his head. “I told her about you.”
“But you’re still married to her.”
“I’ll file for divorce.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“I will. I promise I will. It’s just that she needs a little time.”
“And what do I need?”
He didn’t yet understand and didn’t answer.
“All you had to do was tell me. Instead you chose a lie. And maybe it’s still a lie.” She got up from her chair, avoiding the hand reaching out to her.
“I’m not lying to you, Jenny. I wouldn’t. She needs a little time. For a year she’s been trying to figure out what to do, and then she made a decision and called me.”
Jenny went to the door and opened it, letting rain blow in. She turned back to him.
“You know what, Tony? I’ve been lied to before. I just don’t want to be lied to again.”
She hurried out into the wind and lashing rain. Out to her car, and home.
She felt as if there was a tiny hammer pounding just above her eyes as she drove through town. Rotten weather. A rotten headache. A rotten man she’d been falling in love with. She pounded the wheel with her open hand.
So there. He was married. And sorry for lying to her. As if Ronald hadn’t been so very sorry, so very often.
There was no going home. Dora’s note said Zoe was coming for dinner. Alex would be there. They were going to figure out how to get Emily to talk to Alex about her uncle. They were going to talk about Althea’s death. They were going to talk about all kinds of things she didn’t care about right then.
When she got to the center of town, she turned on Oak and headed out toward Highway 31 and Traverse City. Maybe this was the perfect day to go back to Chicago. How much more of a kick in the ass did she need?
If the rain hadn’t gotten worse, if her head had stopped hurting, if she had so much as a toothbrush with her—she might have kept going to Chicago. Instead she checked into the Comfort Inn on Munson and planned to hole up there for as long as it took her to crawl out of this old cocoon and into the next one.
Once in the room, she turned on the television and watched the worst shows she could find. When her phone rang and Dora left a message that she wondered where she was, Jenny ignored the call.
When Dora called again, Jenny didn’t answer.
When Tony called she let it go to voicemail then listened to him say only, “I’m sorry.”
The next time Dora called, she answered and told her she needed to be alone and she would be home in the morning.
“I understand, dear,” was all Dora said. “Take your time. I’ve known something like this was coming. I only hope you’ll be all right.”
Jenny didn’t promise anything, only that she’d be back.
Chapter 13
There was a light scrim of early frost on the grass when Jenny left the hotel and headed back home. An inkling of winter. Perfect, she thought, pulling into light traffic. She considered breakfast at Bob Evans until she remembered she was still in the s
lightly damp clothes she’d worn the day before and that they were wrinkled, her hair was barely combed, and her teeth were unbrushed.
Breakfast was out. Tony was out. She wasn’t going to cry one more tear. They weren’t engaged. Nothing was promised between them. It was over. No more drama. She had plenty to think about. Things going on back in Bear Falls. That was what she’d decided overnight. She was going to start all over with building this new Jenny Weston. She was going to help Alex Shipley. She was going to apologize to Zoe—as fast as she could—for being snotty, for standing her up last night, for making fun of things she believed to be true when all the while she had a better handle on life than Jenny did. Lots of reasons to go home. To stay there or not stay there. To go back to Chicago or not go back to Chicago. She was a free woman. She still had alimony coming in. Maybe she’d open a business. Maybe she’d go work in a vineyard in California.
She was already feeling better when she parked in the drive at home and Fida ran over, almost hitting a tree trunk because of her blind eye, and jumped on Jenny’s leg as soon as she got out of the car.
“Hey,” she called out to the small person wrapped in a sweater way too big for her. Zoe was kneeling in her garden, beside one of her fairy beds.
Zoe turned, squinted up, and made a face at her. “Where have you been? We were supposed to have a high-powered planning meeting last night, and you never showed up.”
Jenny only said that she was sorry and bent down to throw her arms across Zoe’s back, hugging her and almost forcing her facedown in the dirt.
“What the heck’s that all about?”
“Just a friendly hug. Between friends. Because we’re friends. I mean actual friends.”
Zoe sat back on her heels and shook her head. “Quite a night, huh? You and Tony make up?”
Jenny winced and shook her head. Zoe shut her mouth.
“Why don’t you come on over. I’ll fix us both breakfast.” Jenny pointed toward her house.
“I ate. Usually do before eleven o’clock.”
“Have a cup of tea with me.”
“Got to write most of the day. Christopher Morley called this morning. Wants me in New York in a week or so. We’re meeting with PBS. They want to make my books into a TV series. They’re thinking of combining the stories with the writers’ lives. Something like that. He’s already told them about my upcoming Two Emilys. Pretty exciting stuff.”
“Dinner then?”
“Again? How do I know you’ll be there?” Zoe frowned up at her.
“Of course I’ll be there. I’ll even cook.”
“Now there’s a reason to stay home.”
Jenny made a noise and turned away. “Do what you want. You will anyway.”
“Okay, I’ll come. But only because all I’ve got for dinner is one wrinkled ham hock in my fridge.”
“Good,” Jenny waved. “Bring it. I’ll cook it.”
“By the way,” Zoe called after her, “you don’t know who’s at your house this morning, do you? Abigail Cane and Minnie Moon. It’ll be like having breakfast with a set of electric hens. You sure you want to go home?”
Jenny headed up the steps. She heard the voices from outside the house. Taking a deep breath and remembering she was an all-new Jenny Weston, she put a smile on her face, flicked her messy hair back over her shoulder, and entered the kitchen.
Dora smiled and nodded, relief written on her face. “Glad you’re back, dear.”
Jenny bent close to hug her mother, feeling the need for warmth from someone. Dora held on to her and whispered, “Tony called. He wants you to call him. Poor man. He sounded terrible. Is he sick?” She looked hard at Jenny, then turned back to their guests.
“See who’s here?” Dora gestured toward the two at the table.
As if she could miss them. Abigail Cane, proper and prim in her two-piece blue sweater set and black slacks, gold chains wrapped around her neck, sat up expectantly, waiting for homage to be paid. Minnie Moon, in an orange muumuu covered by a camo jacket, sat across the table from Abigail, feet stuck out to the side. She was wearing flip-flops over white socks, the fabric bunched between her toes.
“They’re worried about Emily,” Dora said and nodded to the toast and jam on the table, then put a kettle on to boil for tea.
“Everybody is. Poor thing. Losing her cousin like that.” Jenny joined them at the table, reaching hungrily for the last piece of toast.
“Well,” Abigail pushed herself up straighter in her chair. “That goes without saying. But what I’m talking about is her reading at the opera house. I’m very worried things are going to be derailed by all that’s happened.”
“I must have missed something.” Jenny smiled from Abigail to Minnie, who made a face and shook her head from side to side.
“What’s going on? I didn’t know there was an event planned at the opera house. Does Emily know about it? Will she show up?”
“I only verified the date yesterday,” Abigail said. “It was all they had open. Monday, October third, seven in the evening. The opera house is handling ticket sales, but Minnie—who’s been such a great help to me—is seeing to incidentals like ushers and flowers for the stage.” She reached across the table to pat Minnie’s hand, bringing a proud smile to Minnie’s face. “If word of Emily Sutton’s return to literature spreads, as I expect it will, the opera house will be filled. The proceeds from the night are going to the National Poetry Society, right there in Traverse City. Emily can hand out scholarships to the Interlochen School. I don’t need to tell you how important the event will be.”
“But I’m guessing you haven’t talked to Emily about it yet.”
Abigail looked pained. “How could I, with her cousin dying the way she did? I’m willing to go over there, but will she let me in? And what about the funeral? Will there be one? When? Heavens, I feel like a ghoul, and yet what can I do? I know Emily wanted this. She told you she’d be pleased, didn’t she, Dora?”
Dora, reluctant to be stuck directly in the middle, nodded. “She mentioned she would like to be a fly on the wall if there was a reading of her work. But I don’t know if that meant a huge event like you’re planning.”
“Please, Dora.” Abigail shook her head. “Even Zoe Zola mentioned something about Emily writing new poetry.”
“And I gave you what she left here,” Dora said. “What did you think?”
“Wonderful. If she doesn’t have more, then those, along with her published work, will do fine. And about the funeral? Have you heard anything?”
Jenny leaned back to see if the teakettle was boiling, craving a cup of tea—maybe one of her very special teas she’d found in Traverse. Today was a Berry Chai day. “I know the funeral can’t be held until the medical examiner releases the body. I don’t know how long that takes in a murder case. Zoe might know. She knows a lot of things most people don’t.”
“Yes, well, we do need Zoe’s help, too. She’s the only one, it seems, who sees Emily regularly. Isn’t that right, Minnie?”
Minnie, who appeared to be Abigail’s immediate source of information for just about everything, gave a gracious nod of her head as she kept an eye on a plate of fresh toast Dora was bringing to the table.
“I heard the police were over to Emily’s night before last.” Minnie leaned forward for a slice of toast, then reached for the homemade strawberry jam. “Weren’t you there, too?”
“I was. Zoe, too. A detective from the Traverse City police came out to break the news about Althea. He thought Zoe and I could help, in case Emily took it badly.”
“And did she?” Abigail asked. “Take it badly?”
“Bad enough, I guess. But she didn’t need our help. She’s not the kind of person who leans on others.”
Abigail didn’t say anything at first, only thought hard. “Well, I’ll have to admit something to you. I just came from Emily’s. Minnie and I were there to leave sympathy cards. Along with the cards, I left a note about the opera house event. And that we’ve got
a planning meeting scheduled for next Tuesday. I asked Emily to come. I put my number in my note. I’m sure she’ll call, but I was hoping I could count on you and Zoe, too? Could you talk to her? Explain, please, what this will mean for her career. And for young poets in the area. Three o’clock. The meeting is at three. In my home.”
Abigail pushed her chair back slowly, then stood. Minnie hurried out of her chair, taking a half slice of toast and jam with her.
“And Dora, I’m only saying this to you and Jenny. If you think about what happened to Althea, it is certainly a tragedy, but she’s only a cousin to Emily. It’s not as though she has to go into months of mourning. You might mention that to her.”
“Abigail.” Dora was shocked. “I’m surprised at you. You of all people. You shouldn’t tell other people what to feel.”
Abigail flushed. “You’re right, Dora. I just don’t want anything to go wrong with the event now that everything is set in motion. I want it to be grand, for Emily Sutton and for Bear Falls. We’ll be known as her home forever afterward. That old swamp house will probably be a shrine one day. I see this as making up for my father. A gift with deep meaning.”
“Are you still trying to get his statue removed from the park?” Dora asked.
Abigail smiled as she nodded. “The council has agreed. We have only to set the date.”
“Congratulations. I know that’s what you wanted.”
With tears in her eyes, the woman thanked Dora and put a hand out to Minnie.
Abigail and Minnie left together.
* * *
For the next few hours, Jenny holed up in her bedroom as Dora entertained neighbors who dropped by to get details of Althea’s murder firsthand. From time to time, Jenny heard the phone ring in the living room, but Dora never came to get her. If he called she didn’t know what she would do. Talk to him? About what? He’d destroyed the possibility of anything between them with his lie. Maybe they could talk about it someday. She’d deal with that when his face in her head didn’t hurt so much and when her ego had come back up to at least half of what it had been.
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