“Don’t worry about it. You’re sure you’re okay?”
I stared up at him. How was I supposed to answer that?
“You’re not complaining about the ambulance.”
“Lately, there’s a certain inev-v-v-v—it’s fate. I can’t fight it.”
He snorted.
The paramedics ran toward us.
Officer not-so-smart Alec extended his hand and helped me out of Anarchy’s lap. I hated to leave it.
“Th-thank you.”
Anarchy looked at me, his brown eyes warmer than coffee and twice as tempting. “You’re welcome.”
I allowed the paramedics to lead me to the ambulance and climbed inside. Silently I promised my heart to the first man who gave me a warm blanket.
I waited until we arrived at the hospital for that blanket and then it was a nurse wearing too much eyeliner and sensible shoes who wrapped me in warmth. My heart was safe.
As for the rest of me…well, Mother charged my little cubicle in the emergency room like an angry rhinoceros and glared at me as if the brakes failing in Henry’s car was somehow my fault. “This has to stop.”
I blinked.
Daddy followed her in. “She’s not wrong, sugar. We talked about it on the way over here. Your house caught fire, your sister’s been shot and now this…”
“How did you get here so quickly?” I asked.
“The hospital has instructions to call me whenever you’re admitted,” said Mother.
Really? Just because she was board chairman…If they didn’t have such nice warm blankets, I’d consider another hospital.
“Now, tell me, what have you done? Who wants to kill you?” Mother demanded.
“I haven’t done anything.”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” Her tone dared me to argue.
I wanted to argue—where there’s smoke, there’s fire being among my least favorite of Mother’s expression—but I didn’t have the energy. “It was nice of you to come, but I’m fine. Aggie is bringing me a bag. As soon as I can change—” my ruined Diane von Furstenberg dress lay in a trashcan and I wore a hospital gown in its place, “—I’m going home.”
“I thought there was a policeman assigned to protect you.” Mother’s tone promised a call to the police commissioner.
“There was. There is.”
“Then how did this happen?” she demanded.
“He kept an eye on me and not the car.”
“Where were you?”
“The Alameda.”
“Why?” she asked.
No need to tell her about the almost-lunch with Kinky. “Marjorie and Greg are back together.”
Mother pursed her lips as she processed that tidbit. Her daughter had avoided a failed marriage. Her daughter’s husband manufactured condoms. Was she pleased that they’d reconciled or disappointed?
“Marjorie is happy,” I added. Surely that should tip the scales toward pleased.
“We’ll see how long that lasts.”
Too tired to argue, I leaned back against the blue plastic mattress covered with white paper and closed my eyes.
“We’re here.”
Aggie’s voice had never been more welcome. We? I cracked my eyelids. My tiny little area now contained Mother, Daddy, Aggie, Grace and Aunt Sis. “Thank you, Aggie.” I pushed away from the dubious comforts of the blue mattress and sat.
“Mom, what happened?” Grace’s wide-eyed gaze took in my pond-scum hair and the hospital gown.
“The brakes on your father’s car failed.”
“But how did you end up in the duck pond?” Grace asked.
“It was that or hit a man and his dog.”
“I suppose the car is ruined.” Mother always liked Henry’s Cadillac. “Such a shame. Such a lovely car. Did you have to drive it into the pond?”
“Yes.” Would she have preferred that I hit the man?
“You’re sure it’s a total loss?” Mother shook her head sadly.
“You’re not hurt?” At least Grace was more interested in me than the state of Henry’s Cadillac. “You’re certain?”
“Not a scratch,” I assured her. Several bruises but not one scratch.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Grace pushed through the collection of family and hugged me. Hard. Then she stepped away. “You smell.”
“When I get home, I’m going to take a shower, then a bath, then another shower.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Good idea.”
I looked past her. Mother and Aunt Sis were eying each other like Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier before a fight.
Daddy looked slightly bemused—women outnumbered him five to one.
“I’ll just step outside so you can get dressed.” Aggie’s hint wasn’t subtle. “Grace, let’s give your mother a minute, then we can take her home.” This second, even more blatant, suggestion fell on deaf ears.
Mother looked at Aunt Sis’s flowing pants and tunic with evident distaste. “Why are you here?” Her first punch was a mere glancing blow.
“I was worried about my niece.” Aunt Sis tilted her head and added, “As opposed to worrying about the car.”
That was a direct hit.
Daddy cleared his throat.
Grace piped up. “You’re right, Aggie. Let’s give Mom a minute to change. Grandy, Gram, Aunt Sis?” She gestured toward the door.
Ignoring my housekeeper was one thing, ignoring Grace, quite another. “Good idea, Grace.” Daddy draped his arm around Mother’s shoulders and propelled her toward the door.
Aunt Sis followed suit, taking a few small steps toward the hallway.
Jeans, a t-shirt, and a ride home were within reach, as close as the travel bag that Aggie had deposited next to the bed.
“Just because I don’t obsess over my children’s health doesn’t mean I don’t care.” Mother struck back.
Aunt Sis stiffened.
Daddy paused.
Grace and Aggie escaped into the hallway.
“Obsess?’ Aunt Sis’s voice was dangerously low.
Mother nodded.
“You listen to me, you spoiled, self-righteous termagant.” Aunt Sis pointed her index finger and poked Mother in the chest. “Don’t you dare belittle what I’ve been through. If you’d actually faced a challenge or two in your life, you’d be nicer to your daughters.”
Mother opened her mouth but no words came out.
Daddy looked stunned.
“It’s easy to sit on a high horse when things are good, Frannie.”
Frannie?
“But life doesn’t always work that way. It requires love and kindness and…forgiveness. Will your spotless reputation keep you company when you’re old? Just how much derision do you think Ellison and Marjorie will take before they cut you off?”
Daddy squared his shoulders, ready to defend Mother.
“Enough.” It was my voice that cut through Aunt Sis’s tirade.
Three sets of surprised eyes stared at me.
“Enough,” I repeated. “Both of you.” I shifted my gaze from Mother to Aunt Sis and back again. “Stop before you say something you’ll regret.”
Sisters pulled and pushed and annoyed. They competed in contests they didn’t understand. They took each other’s dresses and lipsticks and…boyfriends. They kept score and forgave debts. They destroyed each other and mourned over the wreckage. They resented each other and reveled in their closeness. The bond between them was warped and scarred and precious.
You’d think after sixty years, Mother and Aunt Sis would realize that.
Mother lifted her nose. “Take me home please, Harrington.” She marched out my room without saying a word to me or Aunt Sis.
“Dammit.” Aunt Sis’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ve done it now.”
&nbs
p; The other thing that sisters do? They forgive.
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “I’ll fix it.”
How?
Twenty-Two
I got home from the hospital, took the longest, hottest shower in the history of showers, and then took another one. I sniffed my hair. The scent of Grace’s Herbal Essence shampoo had replaced eau de pond scum. Thank God.
Still wrapped in a towel, I picked up the phone and called my sister.
“Ellison,” she said. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling all afternoon. Has Aggie packed my things?”
I sat on the edge of the bed. “Not yet.”
“Why not?” Unhappy two-year-olds sounded less petulant.
“I had a mishap after I left you.”
“Oh?”
I could picture her eyeing her cuticles, maybe filing her nails.
“The brakes failed and I ended up in the duck pond at Loose Park.”
“No you didn’t.” Her voice sounded strangled.
“I did.”
“Obviously, you’re all right.”
“Yes, but—”
“I wish I’d been there.”
That was rather sweet. “The pond water was freezing and dirty. Your wound might have gotten infected.”
“No. No. Not in the car. On the banks. I can just imagine your face as you sailed into the water.” She giggled.
My face had probably been contorted by fear. “It’s not funny. Someone tried to kill me. Maybe you.”
“Of course it’s not funny.” She’d be more convincing if she stopped laughing.
“I need your help.”
“Just a minute. Greg—” her voice faded as if she’d covered the receiver with her palm “—Ellison drove Henry’s car into the duck pond in Loose Park.”
Greg mumbled.
“She’s fine.”
Greg mumbled again.
“Greg wants to know if you realize land yachts don’t float.”
The two of them could head back to Ohio anytime—except—“Marjorie, I need you to have dinner at the club tonight.”
“Greg and I have plans.”
She’d been a high maintenance houseguest for how long? She owed me this. “Cancel them.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
Because I asked wasn’t near reason enough.
“Mother and Aunt Sis had a set-to today. You and I are going to broker a peace.” If said negotiations took place at the club, voices would be kept low and comments polite.
“I don’t think I’m up to that.”
She wanted me to beg? Fine. “Please, Marji. I need your help with this. Mother might listen to you.”
“Fine.” She drew out the word as if being part of a family was a huge imposition.
“Thank you. I’ll pick you up at six.”
“Fine.” This fine lasted even longer. “Wait. How are you going to pick us up? We won’t fit in your Triumph.” She giggled. “I really wish I’d seen you in the pond.”
She didn’t realize the bone-chilling terror of being trapped in a car filling with water. If she did, she wouldn’t laugh. At least that’s what I told myself.
Greg mumbled.
“Greg says he has a rental car. We’ll meet you there at six.”
We hung up and I called my father.
I explained—eloquently—my plan.
“Are you sure this is a good idea, sugar?”
“It’s better than leaving them at odds.”
“This dinner of yours could make things worse.”
I crossed my fingers. It wouldn’t. “Just get her there.”
At five minutes before six, Aunt Sis and I pulled into the parking lot.
Marjorie and Greg were just getting out of a sedan.
I parked next to them and got out of the car.
While Greg dutifully kissed Aunt Sis’s cheek, my sister grabbed my arm, pulled me a few feet away, and whispered furiously, “In the history of bad ideas, this is the worst.”
What was she talking about? Nothing had gone wrong…yet.
“That—” she jerked her chin toward a bright orange BMW “—is Kenneth’s car.”
I stared at the 2002i and something niggled.
“Are you coming?” asked Aunt Sis. She was already walking toward the double doors of the clubhouse.
Whatever was bothering me was sure to wake me up at two in the morning.
I waved at the policeman who’d followed us to the club (not not-so-smart Alec but a new man—this one looked like a George) and stepped inside.
The hostess led us to a table for six in the sparsely seated dining room—I’d hoped for more of an audience. At least Kinky LeCoeur was nowhere in sight. We sat, ordered drinks, and waited.
And waited.
“I believe I’d like to powder my nose,” said Aunt Sis. She excused herself from the table, leaving me with Marjorie and Greg. They stared into each other’s eyes like lovesick teenagers. While this was encouraging in regards to their marriage, it didn’t make for scintillating conversation. I gazed across the room at Kizzi and Howard Standish.
They, like Marjorie and Greg, ignored me.
I glanced at my watch. Six fifteen.
Were they not coming? How would I explain that to Aunt Sis? Something like ice water trickled through my veins. Was Mother that angry?
I waved my fingers at the waiter—I needed something stronger than a spritzer—and spotted my father.
Daddy wore a sky-is-falling expression worthy of Chicken Little. He approached the table slowly.
“Where’s Mother?” I asked.
“Your mother isn’t coming.”
Oh. Dear. Lord.
“Where’s your aunt?” he asked.
“The ladies’ lounge.” She’d been there a long time. “Marjorie, let’s go check on Aunt Sis.”
Somehow, she tore her gaze away from Greg. “What do you need me for?”
“Mother isn’t coming.” Someone had to help me tell Aunt Sis.
“I told you this was a bad idea.”
“You were right. I was wrong. Now, come on.” I pushed away from the table.
With a put-upon sigh, she stood.
We entered an empty room. The ladies’ lounge at the club is a study in wishful thinking—white on white, with glass topped lobster traps serving as end tables, Krill baskets to hide the tampons, and etchings of seashells. In the summer, the decor hints at distant ocean breezes. Now, in the fall, all that white seemed cold as a Nantucket winter.
“She must be in the bathroom,” I said.
Marjorie, gifted me another I-told-you-so look and pulled a compact out of her purse. “You could do with some lipstick.”
My favorite lipstick, a becoming shade of coral, now resided at the bottom of the duck pond. I pulled a gold tube of Guerlain out of my bag. The damned thing was cursed and the color, Rouge Chaud, wasn’t flattering, but I’d spent too much on it to throw it away.
Of course I dropped it.
I bent, reached under the vanity, and felt a prickle on my neck.
Now?
I closed my fingers around the lipstick and stood.
Cassie LeCoeur was reflected in the mirror.
Niggling joined prickling. Kinky drove an orange BMW. Niggle, niggle. I hadn’t seen an orange car the afternoon Marjorie was shot, but Kinky’s license plate had come up…Odd since Marjorie said Kinky had dropped her off then left.
Niggle, niggle.
Cassie’s car had been in the lot. Not Kinky’s.
Why would Cassie try and kill me?
Duh. I’d been right all along. Marjorie—the woman having an affair with Kinky—had been the target.
“You.” The word slipped through my teeth, ignoring common sense and
self-preservation on its way.
Cassie reached into her purse and pulled out a gun.
Marjorie gasped.
“You can’t have him.” Cassie’s voice shook.
“I don’t want him,” said Marjorie.
“Liar.” Cassie’s voice still shook but the hand holding the gun was steady.
“It’s true,” I said. “Marjorie and Greg are back together. He’s in the dining room now.”
Cassie shook her head. “Keeping up appearances. That’s all anyone in this Godforsaken place does.”
“No,” I promised. “It’s true.”
“I’m sorry you got mixed up in this, Ellison.” She aimed the gun at my sister’s heart.
Behind her the bathroom door opened slightly.
“You shoved the bust?” I asked, stalling for time.
“It wasn’t supposed to hit you. You walked into it.”
“And the fire?”
She nodded. “I figured you—” she jabbed the gun in Marjorie’s direction “—would come running. But you didn’t. It was Ellison. When you finally stuck your head out the door, I missed.”
“You killed Hammie Walsh,” said Marjorie. “Why?”
I really wished my sister had kept her mouth shut. We might have been able to talk ourselves out of the numerous attempts on Marjorie’s life. We won’t tell. Marjorie’s going back to Ohio. You and Kenneth can work this out…But Hammie’s murder changed things. Cassie was going to prison. Why had Marjorie brought it up?
“That was an accident!”
The crack in the door behind Cassie grew bigger. What was Aunt Sis up to?
“Kinky was supposed to sit there.”
She’d tried to kill her husband?
“I couldn’t seem to kill Marjorie and he was going to leave me with nothing. Nothing!”
“And then I moved the cards,” said Marjorie.
Cassie hands had shaken that night. I’d assumed she was upset because my sister was flirting with Kinky. I’d been half right. Her plan to kill her husband had gone awry. That meant someone else might die.
Poor Hammie.
“No one would question Kinky taking Spanish Fly.”
She was probably right.
“Hammie was an accident.”
“I doubt a jury will see it that way,” said Marjorie.
CLOUDS IN MY COFFEE Page 22