by Mary Daheim
Arlene looked thoughtful. “I didn’t realize Carl and I were poor.”
Judith shot Arlene a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t have a cleaning service,” Arlene replied in a woeful voice. “I like doing the work myself. I know it gets done right. But maybe I should hire someone before people start to…talk.”
Judith put an arm around Arlene. “You are not poor. My goodness, look at all that money you put into your elegant new driveway last summer. It’s gorgeous!”
Arlene was silent for a long moment. “Then maybe we should sell the Mercedes or the SUV and park something more expensive there.” She shook her head. “Goodness, I never realized—” She broke away from Judith and hurried past Joe. “I’ve got to talk to Carl. We’re going to have to sort this out.”
“Fortunately,” Joe said after Arlene had rushed out the back door, “she’ll forget about it in the next five minutes. Or Carl will tell her she’s crazy.”
“She’s not,” Judith said in a distracted voice.
“I don’t mean literally, I mean…” Joe paused, studying his wife’s worried expression. “Now what?”
“Arlene’s right. There is something fishy about Mrs. Swanson’s house sale. I don’t like it, either.”
“Don’t even think about telling me to sell my old MG and buy a Lamborghini,” Joe said, only half serious.
“No, of course not.” Hearing guests coming into the entry hall, Judith tried to shake off her sudden bothersome mood. “Never mind. I’ve got work to do. Maybe Arlene and I are both a little unhinged. It must be the weather. It’s supposed to get into the high eighties later today.” She set her coffee mug on the counter and went to see to her departing guests.
An hour later, Renie called Judith. “Want some clams?” she asked.
“Clams?” Judith echoed. “I suppose so. Where did you get them?”
“Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince came down from the island this morning,” Renie replied. “They were on their way to visit those old friends of theirs who live on the bluff. Since our house is the closest to where they were headed, they dumped off a big bucket of clams they dug this morning at low tide.”
“What kind?” Judith inquired. “Not gooey ducks or horse clams, I hope.”
“No, the usual—Manila, native, butter clams. Auntie Vance already cleaned them. Have you got time to come over here and collect some? Bill took our car over to Shell Shoal Marina to take his Sunday constitutional walk.”
“Sure,” Judith said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
After telling both Joe and Gertrude where she was going, Judith got into her Subaru and started out of the cul-de-sac. She braked at the corner, checking to see if there was any activity at the Swanson house. All appeared quiet. She considered asking Mrs. Swanson about the buyer, but decided to wait. Arlene would find out in due time.
The front door to the Joneses’ Dutch Colonial was open. Judith called to Renie. “Coz? Where are you?”
Renie appeared in the kitchen doorway at the end of the entry hall, a banana peel in her hand. “Sorry. I was just making sure you didn’t have a nasty fall. Oscar tried to play his favorite trick on you again.”
Judith glanced into the living room, where Bill and Renie’s stuffed dwarf ape sat in his usual place of honor on the sofa. “Please,” Judith begged, following Renie into the kitchen, “no more of your family’s Oscar-Is-a-Real-Creature fantasies. You know that annoys me.”
“Not as annoyed as you’d be if you slipped on this banana peel,” Renie responded as she tossed the peel into the garbage under the sink. “Want some lemonade?”
“Sure,” Judith said.
Renie took out two glasses from the cupboard and went to the refrigerator. “We’ll go out on the deck. That’s where the clams are. Auntie Vance told me to divvy them up with you. It’s a good thing Oscar doesn’t like clams, or there wouldn’t be enough for—”
“Stop!” Judith put her hands over her ears. “I warned you!”
Renie shrugged. “Fine. When it comes to quirks, I can’t even begin to rival you with your penchant for tripping over dead bodies instead of banana peels.”
“Don’t remind me,” Judith murmured as her cousin led the way through the back door to the deck. “By the way, Mrs. Swanson’s house has already been sold for fifty grand above the asking price.”
“No kidding!” Renie exclaimed. “That was quick.”
“Too quick, maybe,” Judith said, settling into one of the matching green patio chairs.
“Not really.” Renie placed her lemonade glass on the small table between the two chairs. “This is such a hot real estate market. Remember back in late April when I was redesigning Grasmere Realty’s Web site? They had to keep changing the copy every couple of days because the properties were selling so fast.”
“That’s so,” Judith allowed. “But there’s something about this deal that bothers me. I can’t think why, but it does. Arlene feels the same way.”
“Look,” Renie pointed out, “if these people can afford to shell out that much money, they can’t be a bunch of bums. Think how nice it is for Mrs. Swanson to make such a profit on—” She stopped speaking as the phone rang from somewhere in the kitchen. “Drat. I’ll be right back,” Renie said, getting up and hurrying inside.
Even if Judith had tried not to eavesdrop, she couldn’t help but hear Renie screech into the phone.
“What? You’re kidding? Why?”
Judith got up and moved to the doorway, taking in her cousin’s incredulous expression from across the island counter. Pointing to the receiver, Renie mouthed a one-syllable word. Judith couldn’t figure out what it was.
“Okay, Joe,” Renie said, emphasizing his name for Judith’s benefit. “She’s right here. I’ll tell her.” Clicking the phone off, she leaned her elbow on the counter and gazed in bewilderment at Judith. “Arlene told Joe who bought the Swanson house.” Renie paused, either for dramatic effect or because she was stupefied. “The new owner is Herself.”
Judith groaned. “That’s crazy!”
Renie, however, shook her head. “Apparently, Herself and Billy Bob Buford Bud—or whatever his name is—want to do a big remodel and need more space. I suppose Mrs. Swanson’s house is a teardown. Let’s face it, people are doing that all the time around here, with even million-dollar homes falling under the wrecking ball for some new mega-mansion.”
“I know.” Judith sighed. “I suddenly have visions of a Mediterranean villa complete with palm trees and pink flamingos in the cul-de-sac. All flash and dash. Herself has no taste.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Renie said with a little smirk as the cousins went back out to the deck. “She married Joe, didn’t she?”
Judith ignored the remark. “Even if they build something decent,” she said after taking a sip of lemonade, “think of all the construction. That’s going to turn everything upside-down at the B&B. Guests don’t come to Hillside Manor to be awakened at seven in the morning by heavy trucks and concrete mixers. And don’t start me on parking places or peaceful neighborhood strolls, or the wretched eyesore that will be right outside our front door. Damn!” She banged her fist hard on the patio chair’s arm. “I knew Herself would bring nothing but trouble!”
“You may be exaggerating,” Renie said, trying to sound reasonable. “Both Herself and Mrs. Swanson’s houses are small, and so are their yards. They look as if they were constructed by the same builder. Is my memory failing even more than I thought, or wasn’t there a third house just like the other two?”
“You mean next to Herself’s place, where the Ericsons live?” Judith nodded. “Yes. They tore that one down about the same time I moved back home after Dan died. But Ted Ericson is an architect, and although their home is more modern, he was able to hurry along the builders and the rest of the workmen. Our house and the Rankerses’ are the two oldest ones in the cul-de-sac. They were put up about the same time, almost a hundred years ago. As I recall, the home
s where the Porters and the Steins live were built in the mid-twenties, or even a little later. But none of our houses seem out of place, at least now that I’ve gotten used to the Ericsons’ sharp angles and so much glass. They’ve fenced in their front yard, and all their plantings have matured to soften the appearance.”
“Yes,” Renie agreed. “The exterior has weathered well, too.”
The cousins sat in silence for a couple of minutes, watching a hummingbird zip from the camellia bush to the cedar tree and taking in the view to the east, where the mountains were silhouetted against the bright blue sky. The Joneses’ lot was a block wide, with their garage on the street that ran past the back of the house.
“Someday,” Renie said ruefully, “this house will be a teardown, too. The double lot is probably worth more than the house. Worse yet, I assume this block is zoned for condos, since we’ve already got them across the street out front.”
“But they’re rather modest in size,” Judith pointed out. “I’ll bet Herself will put in a swimming pool.”
“And fill it with gin?” Renie grimaced. “Don’t look for trouble, Coz.”
“I try not to,” Judith said in woeful tone, “but I have a feeling it’s coming my way.”
Renie didn’t argue.
When Judith got home later that afternoon, she went over to see Arlene and Carl. They were in the backyard, sitting under an old pear tree and watching their Boston terrier, Tulip, chase a tennis ball.
“Well?” Judith said. “Do you know anything more than what Joe passed on to me?”
Arlene shook her head. “I went to see Mrs. Swanson after Cathy called me about the house sale. Unfortunately, Mrs. Swanson was on her way to her daughter’s to make plans about the move. Then I tried to call on Vivian. We’d gotten a letter for someone at that address. A substitute carrier left it in our mailbox.” She frowned. “Is that Spanish girl’s last name Agra?”
“She’s not Spanish,” Judith replied, “she’s Hispanic, and her last name is Vasquez. Nobody named Agra ever lived at that address.”
Arlene shrugged. “With the post office, who knows? Anyway, this girl who looks like she might be Spanish told me that her employers had gone to an appointment about the sale. I don’t understand what all the rush is about. It’s a Sunday, after all.”
Carl took the tennis ball from Tulip and threw it in the direction of the hedge. “If they’re going to remodel, they probably want to start while the weather’s still good.”
“I suppose,” Judith said. “No matter when they start working, it’ll have an impact on Hillside Manor. I wouldn’t feel right about taking reservations without telling potential guests that there’s major construction going on just two doors away. I’m already getting requests for the Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday seasons.”
Tulip came tearing out from under the hedge. Sweetums was in pursuit, his big plume of a tail waving like a battle banner. The dog leaped into Carl’s lap. The cat stopped just short of where Judith was standing.
“Knock it off,” she shouted at Sweetums. “Sorry,” she murmured to Carl and Arlene. “You know what this wretched cat is like. He has no manners.”
“We’re used to him,” Carl said dryly. “Like my lovely wife,” he added with a twinkle in his blue eyes, “he doesn’t show his age.”
“No,” Judith agreed as Sweetums engaged in a stare-down with Tulip. “He’s certainly old enough.” She sighed. “I’d better take him home. Let me know as soon as you find out anything more about what’s going on with Vivian and Company.”
Arlene nodded vaguely, distracted by the cowering Tulip. “You know I will. Find out. And let you know.”
But July turned into August before there was news from Arlene or anyone else. And when the new development occurred, it came via Judith’s computer.
“I got a reservation request just now from someone named Marva Lou Buss in Broken Bow, Oklahoma,” she informed Joe as he returned late Wednesday afternoon from reporting to one of his corporate clients. “That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”
Joe grimaced. “Probably not. When does Marva Lou Buss plan to come to town?”
“Next Monday, with an open-ended departure,” Judith said, pointing at the computer screen. “Two people. I can fit them in until Friday. We’re already full for the weekends in August and the first two weeks of September. What do you think?”
Joe loosened the royal blue tie he’d worn to his meeting. “About what?”
“About whether or not this Marva Lou is married to Frankie, Billy Buss’s brother,” Judith explained. “Remember, I told you that Vivian inherited all of Potsy Buss’s money. Billy and Frankie were left out of the will.”
Joe unbuttoned his pale blue short-sleeved shirt. “So? What does that have to do with them paying a visit? The B&B would be a logical place for them to stay.”
Judith frowned. “I don’t like it. It makes me nervous.”
“It shouldn’t,” Joe said, taking a can of beer out of the fridge. “Do you want me to ask Vivian about Marva Lou?”
Judith turned pleading dark eyes on her husband. “Would you?”
“Sure,” he replied. “I’ll do it after dinner. Right now I’m going to drink this beer, take a shower, and change. It must be close to ninety outside. Did you ever get a quote on air-conditioning this place?”
Judith looked rueful. “No. I meant to, but I keep hoping it’ll cool off. It seems like such a big expense for our usually short bouts of hot weather. The fans you installed in all the bedroom windows help.”
Help, however, was not coming from Herself. Joe went to see his ex a little after seven but returned almost immediately. “Adelita Vasquez told me that Mr. and Mrs. Buss have gone on an evening cruise to try out Mr. B’s new yacht. I wonder if it’s bigger than the QE2.” He cocked his head, listening for any guest activity following the six o’clock social hour. All was quiet. “What are you going to do about the Buss reservation?”
Judith pondered her options. “I don’t like turning away guests, no matter who they are. You’re right—it’s a perfectly logical request.”
“And you are always perfectly logical,” Joe said, kissing his wife’s cheek.
“I’ll warn them that they can’t stay past Thursday night,” Judith said, as much to herself as to Joe. “I’ll do it now.”
An hour later when Judith checked her email, Marva Lou Buss had responded: “Confirm Monday, Aug. 9 through Thursday, Aug. 12. Please advise convenient location for weekend of Friday the 13th.”
“Friday the thirteenth,” Judith murmured. “I don’t like that, either.”
4
Judith was sweeping up dead leaves from under the camellia bush at the corner of the house early Wednesday afternoon and praying for rain when Herself, wearing a glittering gold lamé kimono, came outside to get the mail. Setting her broom aside, Judith hurried across the cul-de-sac.
“Joe and I have been trying to talk to you,” she said, making an effort to put on her friendliest smile. “We heard you bought Mrs. Swanson’s house. Are you expanding?”
Herself uttered a throaty laugh. “Expanding? How quaint!”
“Well…” Judith paused, mesmerized by the sun glinting off of all that gold lamé and platinum curls. “I assume that with adjoining properties, you might want to add on to your original house.”
Clutching a thick batch of mail to her bosom, Vivian regarded Judith with amusement. “That would be the case with some people. But Billy and I have other plans.” She winked. “Check your own mail, Judith. You’ll find an invitation to our coming-out party next week. All of the neighbors in the cul-de-sac are invited. It’ll be very exciting.” With a flip of gold folds, Herself went back inside.
“I don’t like this,” Judith declared to Joe after he got home around five, and she showed him the gold-edged invitation.
Joe looked bemused. “There’s a lot of things you don’t seem to like these days. This seems like a perfectly ordinary neighborhood bash to me
. Six-thirty Monday evening, which happens to coincide with the annual citywide Block Watch get-togethers. Have you talked to Carl and Arlene? They usually host it, since he’s our neighborhood captain.”
“They’re still on the other side of the mountains at that time-share their daughter, Cathy, owns,” Judith replied, sounding cross. “If it’s hot here, it must be a hundred degrees on the lake over there. For all I know, they’ve melted. Besides, Carl dropped the flyers off last week. I’ve already notified the guests who’ll be staying here that night about how the city puts out sawhorses to partially block off the areas where the potlucks are being held.”
Joe waved the Busses’ invitation at Judith. “This isn’t a potluck. It says food and beverages provided.”
“Herself had better clear this with Arlene and Carl,” Judith snapped. “We’ve been doing the Block Watch thing for years.”
“Maybe it’s a party to welcome Billy’s brother and his wife,” Joe said, putting the invitation on the kitchen counter.
Judith clapped a hand to her cheek. “Oh! I forgot that’s when the other Busses get here!”
A woman’s voice called out from the back porch. “Judith? Joe?”
Judith glanced down the hall that led from the kitchen. Naomi Stein was standing at the screen door.
“Come in,” Judith called to her neighbor. “I see you’re back from California.”
“Last night,” Naomi said, a worried expression on her usually serene face and Vivian’s invitation in her hand. “What’s going on around here? Did Mrs. Swanson move out while we were gone?”
Judith nodded. “Over the weekend. I guess she had to be out of the house by August first.”