Drape Expectations

by Karen Rose Smith

  After filling Lady’s Kong toy with kibble, and giving Sophia a dab of cream, she headed out.

  When Caprice had looked up Muriel Fink’s address in an online directory, she’d found an M. Fink, who lived at an address near Country Fields Shopping Center. Caprice decided not to call first. Sure, she might get there and nobody would be home. However, after being part of three murder investigations, she’d decided face-to-face contact was usually best. Plus a phone call about something like this was always complicated. An unexpected visit usually produced more information.

  As Caprice parked her Camaro at the curb in front of Muriel’s house, she assessed the one-floor ranch-style home and calculated that it was even smaller than Bella’s. As she’d learned while talking with her sister at the hospital, Bella and Joe were coming closer to the decision to list their house and look for something bigger. They’d been pricing possibilities online, unlike Grant, who was sporadically touring houses that could possibly suit him.

  Thinking about Grant right now would muddle her thoughts.

  She climbed out of her car and walked to the front door. Daffodils poked up out of the ground in front of the living room’s picture window. Blue and yellow crocuses were blooming on the other side of the porch.

  She rang the bell.

  When Muriel answered the door, she looked as if she were dressed for an exercise class in pale green knit slacks and shirt. In her late sixties, Caprice guessed, Muriel’s gray hair framed her face in an attractive short cut, and her blue eyes sparkled with curiosity as she eyed Caprice speculatively.

  “Miss Fink, I’m Caprice De Luca. I was a friend of Alanna’s.” She was using that term loosely. “Maybe you recognize me from the funeral?”

  Muriel studied her again. “Why, yes, I think I do,” she responded with a Southern accent thicker than Alanna’s and Twyla’s. “You were sitting in the front row with Mr. Richland. And Alanna’s sister.”

  “That’s right,” Caprice agreed. “Could I talk to you for a few minutes?”

  “What about?” Muriel asked, obviously not going to allow a stranger to set foot in her home without a good reason.

  “I’m trying to figure out who might have wanted to do Alanna harm. Unfortunately, Mr. Richland is a suspect, and I’d like to give the police other avenues to pursue. Could we talk?”

  At that explanation, Muriel opened the screen door. “I just returned from my yoga class. The place is a mess.”

  “I promise I won’t look around,” Caprice assured her with a smile.

  As Caprice entered the living room, she realized Muriel must not know what a mess was. True, there were folded towels on a corner of the sofa, and a newspaper spread over the coffee table. A coffee mug rested on a side end table and a pair of shoes lay by the recliner. But the room was bright with rose floral fabrics on a cream background. A porcelain vase holding a few daffodils sat on a clover-shaped occasional table at the plate glass window.

  “I became quite emotional at the funeral, I’m afraid,” Muriel admitted. “When you get to my age, losing one more person just seems to be too much. Barton’s sudden heart attack and death was a shock. Now Alanna’s murder. It was all just too much.”

  “I understand,” Caprice assured her.

  “Please sit,” Muriel said, motioning to the sofa. “Would you like a cup of tea? I just put water on to boil.”

  “That would be lovely. My nana and I share tea at least once a month.”

  “How about orange spice?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Ten minutes later, they were both seated on the sofa, mugs of tea in their hands. They’d been making small talk up until then, but now Caprice said, “I’d like to know more about Alanna. I staged her house to sell, but we talked mostly about business.”

  “Alanna was a complicated woman,” Muriel acknowledged. “I know she had a reputation for being icy and unbending, but she wasn’t always that way. When she and Mr. Goodwin first married . . .” Muriel shook her head.

  “She changed over the years?” Caprice prompted.

  “Oh yes! Understand, I was Mr. Goodwin’s secretary in Biloxi. He brought me up here when he moved the company here. He trusted me that much, and it’s a good feeling.”

  “Yes, it is. You must have been very valuable to him.”

  “A good secretary’s hard to find,” Muriel said with a wink. “I knew how his mind worked, at least where business was concerned. He was smitten with Alanna. And she seemed smitten with him.”

  “I see. So theirs was love at first sight?”

  “It seemed to be,” Muriel agreed. “They married quickly after just a few months. I’m not sure how well they knew each other, though. Barton could be quite genial and charming when he wanted to be. But he had a ruthless underside, too, and I don’t think Alanna saw that at first.”

  “But she did after they were married?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Muriel admitted. “But after the first year they were married, she stopped calling as much while he was at the office. They didn’t go to lunch together as often. Of course, by then she’d settled into his lifestyle.”

  “And that lifestyle consisted of . . . ?” Caprice prodded.

  “Oh, she worked on the boards of foundations for charities. She spent time giving dinner parties for Barton’s associates. They could be quite elaborate, almost like a state dinner. She ran his house in a way the first Mrs. Goodwin never could.”

  “The first Mrs. Goodwin?” Caprice asked.

  “Oh, she was a scatterbrain. She couldn’t even keep the menu straight for dinners. Once Barton made his fortune, all she wanted to do was shop. And the truth is, I think she drank a little too much. I think that’s what broke up his marriage.”

  “I see. But Alanna was different.”

  “Oh yes. Alanna was very organized and she paid attention to detail. She could have run her own company. She’s one of those women who could have broken any glass ceiling. She was a happy woman back then, even if she was strong-willed.”

  “Back then,” Caprice mused. “So, when did she change?”

  After a few moments of consideration, Muriel answered. “We had all moved here to Kismet. Alanna and Barton had settled in, giving dinners and parties in that fabulous house he built for her. They were enjoying their life. But then, something happened.”

  Caprice could guess what that was, but she wanted Muriel to tell her. “Something drastic?”

  “That depends on the way you look at it. A man came to see Barton. His name was Archer Ford. He was at the funeral, too.”

  “I met him.”

  “He claimed to be Mr. Goodwin’s illegitimate son.”

  “I imagine that shook up Barton’s life.”

  “Well, Mr. Goodwin’s first marriage was long over. But he confided to me that he didn’t want to be immersed in scandal ... or have his ex ask for more money because she could hold an affair over his head. Mr. Goodwin simply hadn’t wanted to admit he was unfaithful to his first wife. He refused to take a DNA test, claiming Mr. Ford was greedy and only wanted to take his money. Like many rich men, he could be suspicious and paranoid at times. So he denied everything.”

  “Did he feel Alanna would think less of him?”

  “Possibly. Barton was a proud man, with lots of ego. After all, he was an inventor. He’d created something out of almost nothing. He didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of accepting Archer Ford into his life.”

  “How did Alanna react?”

  “I wasn’t around her that much then. But I do remember a Christmas party after Mr. Ford came forward. Mr. Goodwin and Alanna didn’t know I was in hearing distance. Apparently, Alanna thought Barton should include Archer in his life, but Barton was vehemently against it. After that, there seemed to be a tension between the two of them, which hadn’t been there before.”

  “And you think Alanna changed after that?”

  “No, not then, though I think her relationship with Barton changed. Maybe she was di
sappointed her husband wouldn’t accept his son, no matter what the cost. About a year later, she and Barton separated for six months. Just before they separated, there seemed to be a defiance in Alanna that hadn’t been there previously. It was like she was determined to be happy, no matter what she had to do. That’s when she started shopping a lot, just like the first Mrs. Goodwin had. The jewelry she bought . . .” Muriel rolled her eyes. “That woman had the best taste. Not flashy, but classic. But I knew what that double strand of pearls with the sapphire clasp cost.”

  “So when they were separated, Barton didn’t join her in Europe at all?”

  For a man who had millions and could jet-set anywhere, why wouldn’t he visit his wife if he wanted them to get back together? If he wanted to save his marriage?

  “Europe?” Muriel repeated with an odd look on her face.

  “Isn’t that where Alanna went?”

  “That’s what Alanna told anyone who asked. But I saw the receipts for the trip. She flew to Vermont. As far as I know, that’s where she stayed the whole time. I could be mistaken about that, but credit card statements don’t lie.”

  No, credit card statements didn’t lie.

  So, just why had Alanna told everyone she’d gone to Europe?

  Caprice was still pondering that question, as well as her whole conversation with Muriel Fink, as she drove home. Halfway to her house, her cell phone played “Here, There and Everywhere.” Just why did she like that song so much? The haunting melody? The words? The sentiment? That if you loved someone, they would be there for you?

  Shaking those thoughts away, she picked up the phone and saw her mom’s number and picture. “Hi, Mom. How’s Nana?”

  During the time she’d spent with Muriel Fink, she’d managed to push her worry aside, but now it came roaring back.

  “Nana will be back home in about half an hour. They’re putting her discharge papers together now.”

  “Do they know what’s wrong? Do they know what happened?”

  “Nana had gastric tests this morning, which she wasn’t too fond of, an endoscopy among them. Apparently, she’s suffering from acid reflux and a hiatal hernia rather than a heart condition. She’s relieved about all that, but most of all sorry that she scared us. I keep telling her we couldn’t take any chances, and we won’t in the future, either. As we get older, there will be many more of these kind of crises for all of us.”

  That was a pleasant thought! But Caprice imagined as one aged, one had to think about all that. It was a daunting prospect really.

  “I want to come over and see her.”

  “That will be fine, honey, but give her a couple of hours to settle back in. You know, let her decompress from being at the hospital.”

  “Can I bring her anything?”

  “Just yourself. I’m making chicken soup for supper.”

  “Why don’t I bake your cinnamon apple recipe, which she likes so much?”

  Her mom thought about it. “That dish probably would go down easily. She has medication now that should help her.”

  “I’ll be over about three. She should probably stay in bed for the day.”

  “You know she won’t. We’ll watch over her in shifts. I’ll see you later.”

  Time flew by as Caprice took care of her animals, caught up with paperwork on new proposals, researched prices for a living room and dining room a client wanted her to redecorate, and checked in with developer Derrick Gastenaux to see if any more of his model homes might have sold. Another one had a contract on it, and he thought prospects of closing the deal looked good. In fact, he was so pleased with the sales of the homes since they’d become available before Christmas, he was planning to build three more. He wanted Caprice to stage those, too.

  Contracts with developers like Derrick made her feel solvent. This kind of business was money in the bank, which let her know she’d have enough to pay expenses until the end of the year. She was never sure clients would sign with her, even if they called for a home-staging consultation. All she could do was keep up a good reputation, helping to sell houses fast so that one seller or buyer recommended her to another seller or buyer.

  When Lady whined at Caprice, Caprice decided to take her along to see Nana. If Nana wasn’t up to the company, her mom would take Lady under her wing or maybe outside for a romp in her gardens. Caprice’s dad would be using the rototiller soon. At the beginning of the month, her mom had planted heirloom tomato seeds. She cared for them by using a heat pad and a grow lamp in the basement. In a couple of weeks, she’d move them to shelves in the house’s sunroom and then finally outside under the porch so they grew a little hardy before they were planted. Today was sixty degrees and sunny, so her mom could take Lady outside to examine the gardens and see just how much work had to be done before planting.

  Since Caprice was taking Lady with her, she opened the door to the spare room. “Come on out, Mirabelle. I’m sure Sophia will like the company.”

  On the bed looking totally content, Mirabelle just crossed one front paw over the other and gave a little mew in response.

  Maybe Mirabelle would come out, and maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe Sophia would go upstairs, and maybe she wouldn’t. Caprice would find out when she got home. Having Lady out of the house would make the atmosphere conducive to two stranger cats becoming friendly cats.

  She hoped.

  When Caprice arrived at her childhood home, going to the back entrance where her Nana’s suite of rooms was located, she rang the bell with one hand, holding the casserole of warm cinnamon apples in the other. Her grandmother had definitely not gone to bed. She answered the doorbell’s ring herself, dressed in spring blue slacks and a flowered shirt. Blue-and-pink sneakers covered her feet.

  The first thing she said to Caprice was “I took a shower to wash that hospital smell off me. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me I had acid in my throat.”

  Caprice asked, “Are you going to have a cup of tea with me?”

  Fran, who had been hovering in the living room, said, “That would be a terrific idea. Enjoy some tea and baked cinnamon apples, while I take Lady outside to examine my tomato bed. I can tell her the story of when her mom was found there.”

  “You should wait until Patches is around to tell him, too,” Nana said slyly with a sideways glance at Caprice.

  “I’m sure Grant has already told Patches that story,” Fran responded, taking a sweater from the back of an armchair. “Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.”

  Both Nana and Caprice wrinkled their noses at her while she led Lady out the door.

  Nana and Caprice didn’t talk as they brewed tea and dished out the still-warm apples.

  As they sat at the small table in Nana’s apartment and stirred their tea, Caprice asked, “Does your throat hurt?”

  “The doc said it would be a little sore for a week to ten days. But I’ve hurt worse. I’ll just stick to smooth and soft for the next few days. Thanks so much for bringing the apples.”

  Nana was wise, with a lot of experience, and Caprice didn’t claim to know more than she or her doctors did. But she had a question she wanted to ask her, and she hoped it didn’t make Nana angry.

  “Can we talk about why you’re feeling so poorly?”

  Nana’s golden brown eyes studied her. “It’s a stomach thing,” she said.

  “I know,” Caprice assured her. “But when did you start feeling bad? I don’t mean the chest pain, but before that.”

  “It’s been the past week, more often than not. I had episodes before now if I ate too many sweets or a dinner that was too rich. But never regular like this.”

  “In the past week, Uncle Dom has been here.”

  Her grandmother looked at her with what almost seemed like surprise. She hadn’t connected those dots.

  “No matter what you eat, more tension means more acid, don’t you think? That riles up the hiatal hernia.”

  “I don’t know if that’s scientific,” Nana grumbled.

  “Maybe
if you and Uncle Dom resolve your differences, everyone would feel better.”

  At first, Nana frowned. But then she reached over and took Caprice’s hand. “Tesorina mia, you’ll understand someday when you have children of your own. When you have a child, you give them your entire heart. They’re born of your heart. They’re born of you. There’s a connection that can never be cut, no matter what anybody tries to do. Mothers know this. When a child tries to pull away, it hurts.”

  Caprice waited, suspecting Nana had more to say. She hadn’t used “tesorina mia,” her “my little treasure” endearment, in a long while.

  Nana finally spoke again. “If Dom had been pulling away to establish his independence, I think I could have understood that. But that wasn’t the case. He was letting a woman manipulate him. Ronnie didn’t care two figs about us, only about what Dom could give her. But that also included one hundred percent attention. Sure, we understood that. They were going to be newlyweds. But to take the money your grandfather and I had saved for him and splurge it on a world trip, and then come back and actually tell me they wouldn’t be visiting very often ... how do you think that made me feel? And your grandfather? And your mom and dad and Maria? We loved Dom. We wanted to love Ronnie. But she wanted no part of us, so he wanted no part of us.”

  Caprice could tell Nana’s voice sounded thicker the longer she talked. She was probably straining it and she shouldn’t be.

  “I probably shouldn’t have brought this up today, but it’s just something that I thought you should think about. If you and Uncle Dom could find some peace, maybe you’d feel better.”

  “Dom was in the wrong and he’s never admitted that. Not ever. He’s never said he’s sorry. So, what can a mother do but hurt?” Nana put her hand over her heart. “Right here.”

  This had to be settled one way or another for all their sakes. Nana was a loving woman and all she wanted to do was love her family, including Uncle Dominic. Maybe it was time someone talked to him. Maybe he was the one who could bring this family back together again.