Electric Blue

by Nancy Bush

  Benjamin said, “Well, it’s not right. It’s not what Nana wanted.”

  Oh, so now he called her Nana. Now, after she was gone and he could pretend that he cared about her more than he did. He met my gaze and I saw we had a momentary meeting of the minds. He blushed, his ears turning pink. Now, Benjamin wanted his share, the grasping shit heel.

  “It’s exactly what Nana wanted,” Jazz disagreed. “She said so often enough.”

  “Easy for you to say, as Logan’s father,” Roderick murmured.

  “Don’t do us any favors, Jazz,” Cammie snarked, throwing him a glare as she chased after Rosalie, who was about to tip over a tray full of glasses of wine.

  Jazz shook his head. “Nana would hate this.”

  Logan, on the other hand, was loving it. We were all kind of watching him like an insect in a jar, and he was enjoying the attention. A smirky smile was stuck to his lips. If he’d been insufferable before, he was bound to be horrific from here on out.

  I was feeling totally dissatisfied, so I did a quick internal check to find out what was really bothering me. Ah, yes. That bit about me being after the family money. Yes, I’m cheap. And I like getting paid. But siphoning off money that I haven’t earned by virtue of just dating someone—that’s not for me. There are strings attached I don’t want pulled. And I really resented them placing their own suspect code of ethics on me.

  I was bugged enough to do something about it. In fact, I felt like taking them on, one at a time, or all together. I was tired of their whiney, superior, snotty attitudes. I was tired of their secrets. I was tired of them. I might have actually said something biting and mean, but was diverted by a small commotion in the foyer. My back was to the open salon door so I turned to see what it was all about.

  A beautiful blond woman strode into my line of vision. She looked about forty with a trim waist and breasts that were twenty-ish perky. She wore her hair shoulder length, cut into a contemporary style with shorter strands curving in to her chin. Her face was heart-shaped, and there was a hint of humor around some very red lips. In a short black skirt and a boat-neck sweater, she just oozed sex.

  And her eyes were electric blue.

  If I’d been a cartoon I would have had a question mark floating above my head. I glanced from her to Jazz who was gazing at her blankly. I looked past him to Dahlia and Roderick. Dahlia’s already pale face had turned alabaster. My gaze next jumped to Garrett, who was poleaxed, then James, who appeared close to fainting. In the background Satin was carefully replacing her empty wineglass with a full one.

  The vision stepped toward us, sweeping her gaze around the room. She said, Bette Davis style, “What a dump!” then laughed.

  Her eyes, so like Orchid’s, so like Jazz’s, settled on me. Her red lips twisted into a smile, “Hi, I’m Violet. You are definitely not a Purcell.”

  “Violet?” I repeated. Lily? Wildly, I turned to Jazz. He was blinking rapidly.

  “I’m Jazz. Jasper Purcell,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

  She shook it, her gaze perplexed as she sized him up. “How are you related?”

  “I’m Lily’s son?”

  “Lily’s son,” she repeated.

  I was really confused as was Jazz. Logan had left the room but everyone else stood in a semicircle around her. Cammie was clearly at sea as well.

  Violet pushed between Roderick and Dahlia, who fell apart as if her touch burned. “The Ahi tuna canapes look great. These are kind of anemic though.” She swept a hand over a tray that was mainly crumbs and contained one small hors d’oeuvre. “Got any more? It’s been hellish getting here in time for the funeral, and I’m just starved!”

  When no one moved, she added for clarification, “I’m the long lost sister. The one no one wants to admit exists. Look at them.” She indicated Garrett, Dahlia, and James. “They know.” Then she gazed at Jazz again, smiling a bit sadly. “You look a lot like your mother,” she said. “But then, so do I.”

  Bombshell was the word to describe her, I decided about an hour later as things began to sort themselves out. Violet Purcell sat in the fawn and green chair with a glass of wine in one hand and a small cocktail plate full of hors d’oeuvres in the other. Her legs were crossed and she was rocking one ankle seductively without being fully aware of it. Dahlia, Garrett, and James stared at her soberly. She was their sister. Not Lily. Violet. Their youngest sister. The fifth middle-ager, whom I’d unwittingly picked up in my first background check. She’d disappeared when she was fifteen; she claimed she’d been sent away by Orchid at the same time Lily was sent away to Haven of Rest. The rest of the family had acted as if she’d ceased to exist, though she’d kept up sporadic communication with Orchid.

  “So, you don’t tell me when Mom dies?” she accused, her hand poised over her hors d’oeuvre plate. She threw her three siblings a look but they couldn’t meet her gaze. Cammie sat to one side, mesmerized, Rosalie asleep in her arms. Benjamin looked like a man who’d had too many blows in a row. Roderick’s arms were crossed. He stared at Violet, both bowled over and intrigued. Logan was upstairs, probably playing his Game Boy. No one had seen fit to go alert him to the new arrival. We were using all our energy to simply process.

  “Mom wanted me to stay away so I did,” she said conversationally. “Thought about coming back after dear old Dad died, but she didn’t think it was a good idea.”

  James slowly sank into a chair. He turned his eyes up to me, a message in their tortured depths, but I couldn’t pick it up.

  “You left when you were fifteen?” Cammie asked, though this had already been established. She couldn’t quite get it. Neither could I.

  “You haven’t talked to Mother in years,” Garrett said through his teeth. “You’re just here for the money.”

  “You can keep your stinking cash,” she said, eyeing him darkly. “All I wanted is a few moments with Mom, but it’s too late. And not one of you contacted me. I had to hear about her death from the lawyers.”

  “We didn’t know you were alive,” James said faintly.

  “Bullshit.”

  I’d known there were secrets in the Purcell family, but this was a doozy. Now, some of Orchid’s comments about her daughters made sense. She’d been fretting about Lily and Violet, not Lily and Dahlia. Or, maybe she’d been fretting about all of them.

  Violet possessed all the Purcell good looks, and she had a strength of personality that was clear from the moment she entered anyone’s air space. I would have said she was an anomaly as she looked like the men in the family, but Lily had apparently looked a great deal like her. She was the only Purcell who seemed straightforward. She wasn’t warm, and after two seconds of being in her sphere you could tell she was completely self-centered, but I appreciated the way she didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought.

  “You wasted your energy, Violet,” Garrett said. “Mother left the estate to Logan.”

  Her presence really got to Garrett. Violet could tell, and she was up for the challenge. She stared at him coldly, a faint smile on her lips. “I don’t know who Logan is, yet. Hopefully Mom was a good judge of character and she left the money to the person most deserving.”

  “That’s a joke!” Garrett sneered.

  “Logan’s my son,” Jazz said.

  That threw her. “You have a son?” She ran a hand through her hair. “Holy Mother of God. Lily’s grandson. Hon, is there another bottle of wine somewhere?” she asked Benjamin. “And not that sweet shit. Something I can drink.”

  Benjamin said tightly, “The caterers have packed up everything.”

  “How about bourbon?” I suggested. The coffee urn had also been packed up, but there was an unopened bottle on the side buffet.

  “Perfect. Who are you?”

  “Jane Kelly.”

  I found some old-fashioned glasses in the buffet cupboard and splashed bourbon in the bottom of several. All faces turned my way, so I ended up serving everyone a drink except Satin, who pretended she didn’t
imbibe. Violet skewered her with a look and asked, “You’re Garrett’s wife?”

  Satin nodded.

  Violet stared at her oldest brother over the rim of her glass. Something passed between them. It was Garrett who turned away, though he pretended to fuss over getting Satin a soft drink.

  “So, is there a room for me here, or should I get a hotel. My bags are in the hall.”

  “Where did you come from?” Cammie asked.

  “L.A…. New York…” She uncrossed and recrossed her legs. “I lived in Portland for a while about two years ago. You didn’t know that, did you? Mom never told you.”

  By the faces in the room, this was clearly news.

  “Yep. I was married to my favorite ex-husband, then. A doctor. But I really wasn’t into his cocaine habit, so I divorced him. But he’s cleaned up now, so I’m seeing him tomorrow.”

  I excused myself, but they scarcely noticed as I headed out. In the entry hall I phoned Dwayne. “Come on, come on…” He didn’t answer so I left him a short message that said if he wanted some big news he’d better call me tout de suite.

  While I was phoning Dwayne, Jazz headed upstairs to get Logan, who returned in poor humor. I reentered the salon just as Jazz was introducing his son to Violet. The two eyed each other like adversaries. I hadn’t really paid much attention to Logan’s looks. He was an obnoxious kid and I hadn’t been able to get past that. Now, I saw he was going to possess his father and aunt’s attractiveness. With the inheritance and his own physical attributes, he was going to be the chick magnet of all chick magnets.

  Violet was staring at Logan. “This is the keeper of the cash?” she asked.

  Then she just started laughing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It wasn’t an auspicious beginning for Logan and his newly discovered aunt. I expected some kind of fireworks on his part, some bad behavior, but Violet, whose age I’d now upped to near fifty—though she looked a decade younger—seemed to reach Logan at some level the rest of us couldn’t. Maybe it was because she was a breath of fresh air to the Purcell family. She was irrepressible, unafraid and seemed to think life was a joke. She asked Logan about himself, even though we were all dying to know more about her, and Logan actually responded like a real human being. The rest of the family was still in shock, as was I.

  I listened to Logan wax rhapsodic about his current video game and saw how Violet appeared to hang on every word. Stealing a glance at Jazz, I witnessed a transformation there, too. His initial disbelief had changed to acceptance, maybe even joy. Violet was taking care with his son.

  Of course reading the faces of the other Purcells showed something else entirely: suspicion. Violet had sashayed in, assessed the situation quickly and accurately, then aligned herself with Logan.

  She was smart as a whip, lusciously attractive, fearless.

  The whole fam-damily was in trouble.

  “She’s unbelievable,” Jazz said. “Look at Logan.”

  I was actually looking at Jazz and thinking what Lily might have been like had she lived.

  I really hated to leave but it was getting late. The last of the catering staff was long gone and it was only me and the family left. Before I departed Jazz took me into his arms for a kiss. I let it take me over.

  When he pulled back he said, “Let’s go on vacation together. We’ve got a place near Black Butte. There are a lot of hiking trails. We could try fishing. I’ve never done it, but the Metolius River is right there.”

  The idea struck me with horror. Stuck sharing living accommodations with him, and possibly Logan? I could see myself screaming and peeling off my face with my fingernails after a couple of days. “I don’t know…”

  “Think about it,” he urged.

  I kind of wanted to point out that he had a lot to deal with, but it seemed more prudent just to escape. Dwayne called as I drove home. “You’re not going to believe what happened,” I said, then proceeded to give him the dramatic blow-by-blow of Violet’s unexpected appearance and everyone’s reactions.

  “Wow,” Dwayne said when I finished.

  Somehow that wasn’t enough, especially since his “wow” wasn’t imbued with the sort of amazement I expected to hear. He sounded mostly disinterested.

  “Wow?” I repeated.

  “Was Chris around?” he asked.

  “Cammie’s husband? No.”

  “Okay.”

  “Aren’t they heading for divorce?” I questioned. “You would never guess Cammie even had a husband.”

  “She might be holding it together in front of the rest of her family, but all she thinks about is Denton and her daughter. Watch her. She wants Denton at all costs, though how he got with her in the first case is one of life’s mysteries. I never got close enough to meet him, but I thought he was a decent enough guy. “

  “With two families,” I said mildly.

  “Sometimes funerals bring families together. Even people who hate each other.”

  “Hunh,” I said.

  My relationship with Dwayne was almost back to what it had been. He, at least, had quit teasing me. I, however, hadn’t been completely able to stop thinking about him. I was still getting caught off guard. I’d be doing something, something mundane, and then the thought of sex with Dwayne would hit me like lightning, sending a sizzle right through my center. The guy at the pet store gave me a strange look when I lost track of my purchase of low-cal kiblets because my mind suddenly filled with an image of Dwayne’s muscular abdomen and an orgasmic rush shot through me.

  Note to self: He can never know.

  As I pulled into my drive, I thought about my own family. I was fairly close to my mother, less to my brother even though we lived in the same city. I didn’t have a father to speak of. We Kellys were dysfunctional in our own way, but we were pikers compared with the Purcells.

  As this thought crossed my mind, I had a sudden realization. Before I entered the cottage, I placed a call to my brother and was surprised when he actually answered his cell phone on the second ring. I’d half expected him to be on duty. “Jane,” he greeted me.

  You can’t hide anything from Caller ID anymore. “Hey, there. You know I’m taking Mom to the airport on Monday.”

  “We had dinner with her this evening,” he said patiently.

  “I know,” I said, just as patiently. “I was at a funeral reception. I’m sure you and Sharona and Mom have been talking about your wedding nonstop.”

  “Ad nauseam.”

  “Has Mom mentioned inviting our father?”

  A long, long silence ensued. “No…why? You want to ask him?”

  “Not me. Mom just brought it up once, and it got me thinking. We don’t even know the names of our half brothers and sister, or really how many we’ve even got. I lost count at three. Years from now, they could show up on our doorstep and we wouldn’t know who they were.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “That’s what happened at the Purcells tonight. Jazz’s aunt showed up, and half the family didn’t even know she existed. I was thinking how weird it was, and then I thought about us.”

  “I really don’t care if I ever meet any of ’em.”

  I felt a lot the same way, but it was eating at me a little. “Violet didn’t see any of her siblings for over thirty years.”

  “Probably for the best.”

  The thing about Booth is, he says all the same things I would say. We’re twins, and though I tend to think we’re polar opposites, it’s just not true.

  “He’s not invited to the wedding,” Booth reiterated.

  “Good,” I said, and went inside to my mother and The Binkster.

  Monday morning I took Mom to the airport, my eyes peeled for my nemesis, who must have been still patrolling arrivals because she was nowhere to be seen at departures. Mom wanted to pin me down about Jazz, but I dodged her questions. She despairs of me ever having a serious, lasting relationship and she’d zeroed in on Jazz for all the obvious reasons. I fobbed her off as
best I could, but she got that look in her eye that says, “This isn’t over yet.” I managed to sidetrack her with some more Booth and Sharona’s wedding talk, but she was not completely diverted.

  “You need to come stay with me,” she said, as I hauled her bag from the back of the Volvo, pulled out its handle and balanced it on its wheels. “I’ve got things for you to do on the Venice property.”

  “What kind of things? I’m not all that handy.”

  “Private investigator things.”

  “And what would that be?”

  She smiled, gave me a hug and kiss, said, “I’ll think of something,” then waved at me as she wheeled her bag into the terminal.

  I felt a pang of loneliness as soon as she was out of sight. I had the absurd notion to either call her back or jump on a plane and join her. I did neither, but it made me worry about my own state of mind.

  That afternoon Binks had her stitches removed. I hardly recognized her as my dog without the cone. “She looks great,” the vet decreed, and Binks actually jumped into the Volvo on her own power and curled herself into her bed in the passenger seat. This is a move she can only make if her weight’s under a certain level. It’s a fine balance we have as she’s wont to put on weight with a concentration that’s awe-inspiring.

  On the ride back she panted like she’d run a marathon, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. It amazes me how damn long it is. Where does it fit when her mouth’s closed? Her head’s too short for it, I swear.

  I recognized it as the sign of stress it was. She did not like the vet and who could blame her. From her point of view nothing good ever happened there. When I got her home I refilled her water bowl, from which she drank lustily, and we shared a mochi. That about did her in, so she toddled into her bed in the corner of my bedroom, sighed loudly, and burrowed herself into the cushions.

  Most of the day I avoided Jazz’s calls, as I’d avoided them the day before. I had thoughts of easing myself away from the Purcells and their problems. But the Monday calls kept escalating in their frequency. I marveled at this, wondering if Jazz had suddenly developed stalker-esque tendencies. Finally, I picked up the line with a distinctly formal, “Hello.”