by Mary Daheim
Phyliss was finishing up in the kitchen. She saw Judith reach for the bourbon bottle. “No!” she cried. “You’re not going to drink Satan’s brew, are you?”
“I am not,” Judith declared. “But Mr. Schmuck is. Moderation in all things, Phyliss. Jesus drank wine.”
“It was grape juice,” Phyliss asserted. “They didn’t have wine or any filthy alcoholic beverages. That’s why they called it the Holy Land.”
If Judith knew when to give up arguing with Arlene, she also surrendered trying to reason with her cleaning woman. Pouring a scant inch of bourbon into a small glass, adding ice and water, she returned to the living room.
Rodney looked as if he were about to nod off. “Oh, Mama, just what the doctor ordered. You’re really swell.”
“Don’t gulp it,” Judith ordered, sitting down on the other sofa. “Now tell me exactly how and why you ended up here at the B&B.”
“I jumped out of the car,” he said after taking a reasonably small sip of his drink. “Then I climbed over the fence and went off to get a bus that would take me here. I got tired of them bossing me around.”
“They didn’t try to chase you down?” Judith asked.
He took another sip of bourbon and shook his head. “They probably thought I was going back to the house.”
“Who’s being so bossy?”
“Sophie and Cynthia, mostly,” Rodney answered. “But Stu’s got a yap on him, too. Millie had some really weird pals.”
“You don’t mind leaving Belle alone with that crew?”
For just an instant, Rodney seemed alarmed. “Well, she’s got the nerd to look after her. Though he’s kind of a sad excuse for Superman.”
“Why were they bossing you? I mean,” Judith clarified, “what kind of demands were they making on you?”
“Every kind.” Rodney paused to drain the glass and then shot an appealing look at Judith. “I don’t suppose . . . ?” He let the query die away.
“Not right now,” Judith said kindly. “As you were about to tell me? The demands, that is.”
Rodney sighed, resting the empty glass on his stomach. “What to do for Millie’s funeral, where to hold it, how to honor her memory, ways to make me go nuts.”
Judith pounced on only one of the complaints about his companions: “What kind of memorial are they talking about?”
Rodney scratched his neck. “It was . . . some kind of fund. A . . . an endowment, Cynthia called it. To help people. She likes doing that. She’s a sort of social worker.”
“Yes, I heard she’s a counselor,” Judith said. “Who would actually get the money to establish whatever this project was for?”
“I’m not sure,” Rodney replied. “They got to arguing about that part and I sort of nodded off. That’s the dangedest thing. Ever since Millie died, I feel tired all the time. You might not believe this, Mama, but your boy is usually pretty lively. I guess it’s stress. That’s what Sophie told me. She gave me some pills for it.”
“What kind of pills?”
“White ones.”
“Do you know what they’re called?”
“No. What difference does it make?”
“Do you have any with you?”
Rodney shook his head. “Sophie gives them to me, four times a day. I don’t know if they cure stress. I’m not sure what stress means, Mama. But I miss my Millie.”
“I know,” Judith said. “You mustn’t let Sophie give you those pills. You’re a grown man and you can’t let people push you around. How can you give motivational speeches when you’re not motivating yourself?”
“Good point,” Rodney murmured. “I haven’t done any speaking gigs since we moved here. I should get out and hustle, huh?”
“That’s right,” Judith agreed. “You can’t let those hangers-on tell you what to do with your money either.”
Rodney grimaced. “It’s not my money. It’s Millie’s money. She was rich. I didn’t have much when I married her.”
“But you’re her husband,” Judith pointed out. “Both Washington and California are community-property states. You get everything she had. Did she have a will?”
The grimace turned to gloom. “Yeah, she did.” He gulped and lowered his eyes. “Everything goes to Belle. I’m sunk.” Finally looking at Judith with piteous eyes, he seemed on the verge of tears. “Will you take care of me, Mama?”
For one fleeting moment, Judith almost wished she could, but sanity overcame her. “No, Rodney, you have to do that for yourself.”
He shook his head. “Can’t do that. I’d rather be dead.”
Judith wondered if someone was planning to grant Rodney’s wish.
Chapter 21
Rodney wanted to stay at Hillside Manor. Judith told him he could spend the next two nights, but the Memorial Day weekend was coming up and the B&B was booked. Rodney asked if the Flynns had a private guest room. They did, of course, though Judith wasn’t going to admit it.
“I heard you tried to escape from here again Tuesday morning,” Judith said, hoping not to sound as if she were reprimanding him.
Rodney seemed chagrined. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t want to go back to Heaven’s Gate without Millie. It doesn’t seem right.”
“I understand. You can stay in Room One,” she went on. “I haven’t put anyone else in there since you left.”
“Thanks. It feels like home.” He smiled faintly. “Your hubby’s about my size. Do you think he could lend me some duds?”
“I’ll ask him when he gets home,” Judith said. “I do have a problem. Your credit card was canceled over the weekend. You and the others owe me for the three nights you stayed here.”
Rodney’s jaw dropped. “Oh, dang! How’d that happen?”
“I thought maybe you knew.”
Rodney shook his head several times. “No idea. It was in Millie’s name and . . . Would that be an automatic thing because she’s . . . dead?”
“Not unless the credit-card company was notified,” Judith replied. “I assume you didn’t call them.”
He shook his head again. “How am I going to pay for anything? I’ve only got about twenty dollars on me.”
“Have you checked with your bank?”
“No.” Rodney brightened slightly. “We opened an account at a Key Largo branch not far from Sunset Cliffs. I think I saw one of their other branches on top of the hill. Can you give me a lift up there?”
“I could, but . . .” Judith paused, hearing the back door close. “I think Joe’s home. I have to make hors d’oeuvres for the guests. Maybe he can do it. You can ride in his classic MG.”
“I’d like that,” Rodney asserted. “I didn’t know you had one of those snazzy old foreign cars.”
“My husband bought it new just before I met him,” Judith said as she leaned forward to listen for Joe to show up in the living room. “Maybe he went upstairs,” she murmured. “I’ll go see where he is.”
Joe was in the kitchen staring at the refrigerator’s contents. “Hi,” he said. “Do I want a beer or a serious drink?”
“Don’t ask me,” Judith replied. “Can you take Rodney up to the bank? He escaped from Sunset Cliffs this afternoon via bus.”
Joe closed the fridge. “Those rich people have their own bus? What’s he doing back here? I thought we’d seen the last of those jackasses.”
“It’s a long story,” Judith said. “Would you mind taking him up to Key Largo? He hasn’t got much money, and as you may recall, his credit card was canceled.”
“Hell.” Joe scratched his head. “Okay. But I’d rather take him back to Sunset Cliffs.”
“He’s got some problems with the rest of those people. I’ll explain later. Or maybe he’ll tell you while you’re on the way to the bank.”
“No doubt he will,” Joe said resignedly. “I suspect his so-called friends are taking him to the cleaners.”
“You got that right,” Judith replied.
Judith started making the appetizers—stuffed spinach and crab in
mushroom caps, Brie on crisp English crackers, deviled eggs with Pacific shrimp. She’d just finished setting everything out on small platters when there was a knock at the front door. Glancing at the schoolhouse clock, she noted that it was almost four thirty. Maybe her new guests had arrived ahead of the usual check-in time.
When Judith opened the door, Belle Schmuck staggered across the threshold. “Help me!” she gasped. “I may’ve been followed!”
Judith grabbed Belle’s arm to steady her. “What happened?”
Belle waved a hand and shook her head as she took some deep breaths. “Let me sit,” she finally said.
Judith held on to the young woman’s arm as she steered her into the living room and eased her onto one of the matching sofas.
“Thanks,” Belle said with a ghostly smile. “I sneaked out of the house and asked the security guard to call a cab for me. May I have a glass of water?”
“Of course. I’ll be right back.” Judith hurried to the kitchen, poured out a glass of water, and added three ice cubes from the freezer. “Here,” she said to Belle, handing her the glass. “What happened?”
Belle took a deep breath and a sip of water. “I was in the hall when I heard George and Elsie Kindred arguing in the den. He mentioned my name, saying I was just like my mother—really stubborn. Elsie didn’t agree. Then she said, ‘What do you plan to do with the daughter?’” Belle stopped, pressing her lips together. “Then he shouted, ‘Never mind! She’s in the way.’ That’s when I decided I had to get out of there.”
Judith tried to hide her shock. “Was that right before all of you drove away with the trunk?”
Belle frowned. “What trunk?”
“Ah . . . someone told me that the Reverend and Mrs. Kindred drove off from Heaven’s Gate with a large trunk in the backseat.”
Belle shrugged. “Maybe they did. So what? Elsie Kindred and Agnes Crump have been doing some work around the house. I guess they like to keep busy. They’re a really dull pair of women.”
Judith changed the subject. “What did you all do when everybody drove around Sunset Cliffs?”
“Got acquainted with the neighborhood,” Belle replied. “I’d never been there before. After Mom and Dad moved up here, I stayed in L.A. with Clark. I had a job at a coffeehouse in Beverly Hills where I got to meet some celebrities.” She made a face. “Most of them aren’t good tippers. Clark was working on his thesis. In fact, he usually hung out at the coffeehouse all day while he came up with ideas.”
“It must’ve been interesting,” Judith remarked, hoping she sounded sincere. “Did you know your father also ran away?”
Belle’s eyes widened. “No! What do you mean?”
“I take it you weren’t in the same car with him on the drive?” She saw Belle frown and shake her head. “Your father jumped out, somehow managed to get to a bus stop, and came here. He’s gone to the bank with Joe. They should be back soon.” She glanced at the grandfather clock, which had just chimed the quarter hour. “In fact, they should be here by now. They’ve been gone quite a while.”
“Poor Dad!” Belle exclaimed. “He’s had a terrible time since Mom died. Those other people treat him like a child. Is he going to stay here?”
“I told him he could, at least for a night or two,” Judith said. “But I have a full house over the long weekend. How long do you think the rest of your party will stay on at Heaven’s Gate?”
Belle’s head drooped. “I haven’t got a clue. They seem to be settling in. I don’t like any of them, especially Clark’s mother. Cynthia’s a witch. Sometimes I think marrying Clark is a bad idea. But it wasn’t my idea in the first place. If two people love each other, what does a ceremony have to do with it? Besides, I don’t really . . .” She seemed close to tears.
“Whose idea was it to have the wedding?” Judith asked.
Belle made an effort to compose herself and wrinkled her nose. “Cynthia and Stuart’s. They want my money. I don’t think Clark cares about my money. I’m not sure he knows I have any. Of my own, that is.”
The comment puzzled Judith. “You have your own private fortune?”
“Mom set up a trust fund for me before I started college,” Belle replied. “It wasn’t megabucks to start with, but I dropped out of Pepperdine in my second year. I’d met Clark at a party—he went to undergraduate school at Pepperdine—and he was already living off campus. I moved in with him a few months later. Mom was wild.”
“Because you were living with Clark?”
“No. Mom liked Clark—in her way. But she thought he was weak and could be manipulated by his mother. Mom didn’t trust Cynthia—or Stuart. She told me they were greedy.” Belle drank more water. “Cynth told Mom that as long as Clark and I were living together and sharing expenses, he should be added to the fund as co-owner. Mom told Cynth to buzz off. Meanwhile, the fund kept growing. I rarely took anything out after the first year. Mom was shrewd about money and financial stuff.”
“I assume,” Judith said, “Clark’s mother and his stepfather put pressure on the two of you to get married? Or was it also a moral issue?”
Belle nodded. “They thought we were living in sin. And Stuart is kind of religious. That’s how he got hooked up with the rev. He’s a bad influence, but then I’ve never been into church stuff.”
Judith heard the back door open. “Excuse me,” she said, getting up. “I think Joe and your father are back.”
She met a weary-looking Joe in the kitchen. “Where’s Rodney?” she asked.
“Hauling his new clothes upstairs,” Joe replied in disgust. “The Schmuck bank account had been closed. I had to take him shopping on the Avenue and buy something that didn’t look as if a bum had been wearing it. I need a drink.”
“You’ll need a double,” Judith informed him. “Belle’s here, too. She ran away from Heaven’s Gate.”
“Crap!” Joe said under his breath. “Are we going to end up with the whole gang coming back here?”
“I doubt it,” Judith said, putting a hand on his arm. “The two Schmucks seem to be the outsiders.”
Joe’s usual mellow disposition appeared to have deserted him. “You’re not running a hotel. Schmuck and his kid live in a mansion, for God’s sake! He can’t be completely broke. His wife was stinking rich.”
“All the money goes to Belle,” Judith said, keeping her voice down. “I don’t know if she’s aware of that yet. Still, she can afford to pay us for their stay over the weekend and for now. Belle and Rodney are scared. They think the others want them out of the way—permanently.”
Joe expelled a big breath. “Damn. You and your heart of gold. Maybe Woody should assign someone to watch that house in Sunset Cliffs. If those rich snobs let him. They might sue the city for violating their privacy. That place is a fiefdom.” He paused. “What happened with the Rankerses and their gardening job?”
“Oh!” Judith exclaimed. “I forgot to check in with them. Could you go over to see them now? I’ll have your drink waiting for you.”
Looking beleaguered, Joe agreed. “Be right back. Start pouring the Scotch.” He dashed down the hall and out the back door.
The phone rang before Judith could pick up the bottle.
“Hey,” Renie said, “why don’t you and Joe come over to dinner after you make nice with your guests? We’ve got enough sockeye for four. I overbought. You can save yours for tomorrow. Bill actually told me he could wait until six thirty to eat as long as he had a snack first. His ulcer, you know.”
“Bill hasn’t had an ulcer in thirty years,” Judith declared. “We can’t. Things have gotten complicated here. Rodney and Belle showed up. Separately, that is.”
“Oh, dear.” Renie paused. “You need backup. Why don’t Bill and I come over and bring our sockeye? I’ll cook the food, you coddle the guests. Okay?”
“That’s a lot of bother for . . .” Judith saw Gertrude roll into the house. “Here comes Mother. Okay, fine. I’ll see you soon.” She hung up as the old lady stopped her wh
eelchair just short of the stove.
“When do we eat?” Gertrude demanded in her raspy old voice.
“Your dinner will be ready at six,” Judith replied, hearing the doorbell ring. “That must be the new guests. I’ll be right back.”
As Judith went to the front door she heard Rodney calling to her: “Mama! Where are you?”
She realized he must have come downstairs while she was in the kitchen. Judith ignored him and opened the front door to greet Ronald and Jeanne Chang, a middle-aged couple from San Francisco who were in town to visit their grandchildren. Trying to drown out more shouts from Rodney and an argument between Joe and Gertrude in the kitchen, Judith somehow managed to get the Changs registered before directing them to Room Three. For once, she didn’t feel as if she could manage the stairs to take them up in person. Her conscience was soothed when they seemed to be a pleasant, unflappable pair.
Judith paused in the doorway to the living room. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, Rodney. Please be patient.”
He pointed to his empty glass. “Another shot, please, Mama?”
“I’ll see if I have any left,” Judith said between clenched teeth before heading to the kitchen. “Well?” she queried Joe. “What did the Rankerses have to report?”
“They aren’t home yet,” he replied, pouring drinks. “They probably got stuck in traffic.” He turned to Gertrude. “You want to get tanked, you goofy old bat?”
“Up yours, Knucklehead,” Gertrude shot back. “I want my supper.”
“It’s only five twenty,” Judith pointed out. “Renie’s making dinner here tonight.”
“Why?” Gertrude asked. “Did my daffy niece set fire to her kitchen? It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“She only did it once,” Judith said, “and that was on Easter when the duck she was roasting blew up in the oven.”
“Oh, right, I remember that,” Gertrude mumbled. “We all had to eat burgers from the joint at the bottom of the hill.”
The doorbell rang again. Judith found two young girls who looked as if they should still be in high school. She was only partly wrong—they were from a small town near the Oregon border and were in the city to check out the University. She handed over a map of the campus and sent them upstairs to Room Four. Finally, she went into the living room, where Rodney was wearing a new plaid short-sleeved shirt and equally new tan pants. He was sitting across from his daughter and looking petulant.