An Unhappy Medium

by Dawn Eastman

  The small zombie grunted and limped out of the room, dragging one leg behind her.

  Mom rolled her eyes and handed the sandwich tray to me.

  “I’ll be very glad when this is over,” she muttered in my ear.

  “Aren’t you and Dad on the zombie team?” I asked.

  Mom sighed. “Yes, we are. But I told Vi I would only be a zombie once. She can practice on the rest of the gang. Your father is hiding in his den with the door closed.” She turned to Seth. “Can you go tell him lunch is ready?”

  “Sure, Nana Rose,” Seth said. “I’m sort of sad that I’m on a running team.” He turned to Vi, who was trying to sit without tearing all of her shredded clothing. “Can you make me a zombie for Halloween?”

  “No problem,” Vi said. “I have tons of makeup now.”

  “Aren’t you a little old for Halloween?” I said.

  “Not if I can have a wicked zombie costume, I’m not.” Seth loped off toward Dad’s man-cave.

  Grace and Paul followed Sophie into the room.

  “Oh, Vi,” Grace said. “You look awful! I love it.”

  I think Vi smiled.

  We sat and I managed to situate myself so I didn’t have to look at the undead while I ate. Dad was not so lucky. He looked a bit green and pushed his food around his plate.

  “I was really surprised to see Derek Vaughn at the meeting last night,” Vi said. “I don’t think he’s been back in town in years.”

  “I guess we’re just lucky we chose this weekend to visit ourselves,” Paul said with a tight smile.

  “Oh, don’t you go getting jealous, Paul,” Vi said. “Like father, like son. Those Vaughn guys never had a chance with Grace or Rose.”

  Dad put his head in his hands. Mom choked on her water.

  Sensing a shift in the mood of the table, Seth glanced up from his food to look around for the source of the disturbance. Mac, sitting next to me, was well-versed in staying out of Fortune family drama. He kept his head down and focused on the remains of his sandwich.

  “What are you talking about, Vi?” I asked.

  Grace dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and glared at Vi.

  “Let’s not rehash the whole thing, Vi,” Grace said.

  “Rehash what whole thing?” Sophie said.

  Vi looked at Mom and Grace, who wore matching censorious expressions.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, hon. Just ancient history.” Vi flapped her hand and went back to her food.

  “Does anyone want some brownies?” Mom asked brightly. “Vi, maybe you can help me in the kitchen.” Her voice had become steely.

  “Oh, okay.” Vi pushed her chair back and stood.

  “I’ll help, too.” Grace said, and tossed her napkin on the table.

  This was too juicy to pass up. “I’ll help,” I said, and quickly followed them out of the room. I saw Dad and Mac relax as I turned the corner.

  “. . . bad enough that you constantly harass him about his career in dentistry, you don’t need to bring up Richard,” Mom said to Vi as I entered the kitchen. Grace stood with her arms crossed watching them both.

  “What’s going on?” I said.

  “It’s nothing,” Mom said.

  Grace tilted her head at Mom.

  “Doesn’t Clyde know?” Grace said.

  “Know what?” I said. “What don’t I know?” I crossed my arms to match Grace and looked from Mom to Vi.

  Mom took the brownies off the stove and began vigorously cutting squares.

  “You’re turning it into a bigger deal than it is,” Vi said. “I didn’t mean to start anything. I forgot that not everyone knows about you and Richard.”

  “What about Mom and Richard?”

  Mom pushed the brownie pan away and placed her fingers on the bridge of her nose, much the way I did when Vi tried to get me to do anything psychic.

  Grace gently took the knife from Mom and finished placing the brownies on a plate.

  “It’s actually a very romantic story and your father is the hero,” Vi said, “I don’t know why she’s being all secretive.”

  “I’m not being secretive, Vi,” Mom took the brownie pan and began scrubbing it in the sink. “I just don’t think we need to dredge up the past at a pleasant family meal.”

  Vi shrugged. It was still hard to look at her, but I forced myself.

  “Okay, spill it,” I said.

  “Well, your father hates it when the subject comes up,” Vi began.

  “Which you obviously know, and yet you persist,” Mom huffed.

  Vi glanced at the door with her sunken, dark-circled eyes. It was so like my family that a zombie would reveal our dark secrets.

  “Richard Vaughn and your mother dated all through high school and then got engaged right after graduation.”

  “What?” I said. “You were engaged?”

  All three of them shushed me and I lowered my voice.

  “Why am I just hearing about this now?” I whispered.

  “For one thing, it’s very far in the past—forty-five years to be exact. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “I saw the way he looked at you,” Vi said. “It’s not the past for him,”

  Mom blushed. “Vi, stop it. He’s been married to Nora almost as long as Frank and I have been married. No one is harboring any unrequited love . . .”

  “Okay,” Vi said. “If you say so.” Eyes rolled in her zombie face.

  “I remember it was a pretty big deal when I started dating Derek,” Grace said. “His mother threw a fit that he was dating one of your daughters.”

  “Both of you stop,” Mom said. Mom held out her hands and then moved them to her hips. “The brownies are drying out. Let’s go back in.” Mom picked up the plate and sailed out of the room with her head high.

  “I’ll tell you the rest later,” Vi said. She put a bony finger to her lips and then followed Mom out of the room.

  “Is that all there is to it?” I asked Grace.

  She nodded. “Mostly. I think there was an acrimonious breakup and there may have been some fisticuffs—Dad’s word—between Dad and Richard the night before Mom and Dad’s wedding, but it all finally simmered down. I knew about most of it from Derek. He’d heard the whole story from his parents when he told them we were dating.”

  I sighed. I felt like the nine year age difference between Grace and myself meant that I was always the last one to know anything. Not that this really mattered, I supposed. It was old news, not something to worry about now.

  Grace peeked through the kitchen door to the dining room. She put her finger to her lips and tilted her head toward the back door. I was surprised she was going to tell me the story now. Back when we were growing up, she would hold this kind of information over my head for days before finally spilling.

  She pulled the door open slowly, but Dad had fixed the creak years ago. We stepped out in the yard and Grace crossed her arms against the chill.

  “I hoped I’d get a chance to talk to you alone,” she said.

  My shoulders tensed. She wasn’t going to tell me the story of my mother’s long-ago engagement. This was something else.

  “Does Mac have to work tomorrow?” she asked. “I thought I heard him say he was off through the weekend.”

  I wasn’t expecting this. “He’s home tomorrow.” I narrowed my eyes at her.

  “Great,” she said. She started pacing and muttering to herself about phone calls in the morning.

  “Is there anything else?” I asked and let a snotty preteen tone slip into my question.

  She stopped pacing and looked at me. “Yes, I just said.” She gestured at the path she had been walking. “I’m going to call the lawyer tomorrow and try to set up a meeting at eleven. You can both make it, right?”

  I noticed she hadn’t asked if I was bu
sy tomorrow before demanding this audience.

  “Why?” I asked. I crossed my arms, to keep from putting my hands on my hips like Mom. “What’s up, Grace?”

  Grace glanced nervously toward the house and then scanned the backyard. I looked around as well and wondered what we were looking for.

  “I’d rather not talk about it yet,” she said. “Can’t you just do this for me? Why does it always have to be so hard with you?”

  I felt my eyebrows rise and I took a step back. I opened my mouth in shock and to say something I would likely regret.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She shook her head as if to clear it and stepped forward to put a hand on my arm. “Please, Clyde. I feel like all I’ve done lately is ask for favors, but I really need both of you to come to Rupert Worthington’s office tomorrow.”

  Her rapid shift from queenly proclamations to sincere-sounding request confused me enough that I agreed.

  “Yeah, okay.” I kept my arms crossed to let her know I was still miffed.

  “Don’t tell anyone but Mac,” she said, and darted back in the house.

  7

  Friday morning I stopped in at Diana’s store again.

  “How’s it going with Grace?” Diana asked after we had settled in her office with tea.

  “Not sure yet,” I said. “Family secrets have been spilled and she wants me to meet her at the lawyer’s, so only minor drama so far.”

  Diana leaned forward. “Family secrets? Tell me.”

  I waved my hand airily. “Something about my mother’s checkered past and the broken hearts she trod upon as a youth.”

  “Your mom?” Diana tapped a finger to her lips. “I could see that. She’s beautiful and just flighty enough to wreak havoc.”

  I tossed an eraser at her. “Don’t trash-talk my mom.”

  Diana grinned. “Good thing she finally settled down.”

  “It does seem strange to think of Mom and Vi and Dad being involved in any sort of romantic entanglements,” I said. “Grace says there was even a brawl or two between Dad and the jilted boyfriend.”

  “Frank Fortune brawling?” Diana shook her head. “Nope, that’s where you lost me.”

  “Me, too. I can’t picture my dad fighting with anyone. Except maybe Vi.”

  “What’s with the lawyer?” Diana said.

  I shrugged. “I assume it’s something to do with Seth living here. Maybe they have to sign something for the school to let him stay enrolled?” I picked at a thread on my jeans. I was concerned. Grace refused to tell me what the meeting was about and I had no idea why she would need Mac there as well.

  “They wouldn’t have to come all the way here for that.” She folded her hands on the desk and held my gaze until I looked away.

  “No, you’re right.” I sipped my cooling tea. “Plus, she insisted that Mac come along.” I blew out air. “She can be so annoying. I don’t know why she has to make everything a big weird secret.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want your parents to know whatever it is?” She poured more tea into my cup and pushed the sugar bowl toward me.

  “Maybe. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

  We finished our tea and I told her about Vi’s frantic search for the best zombie makeup.

  “She told Lucan and me she’d give an award to the zombie team with the most kills.” Diana’s face puckered with distaste. “Sometimes I wonder about her mental health.”

  “Sometimes?”

  Diana walked me back out to the front of her store. A young woman was there talking to Diana’s assistant, Bethany. I felt Diana stiffen beside me. She sighed.

  “Hello, again, Tatiana,” Diana said.

  Tatiana turned her sea-green eyes on us and brushed her silky blonde hair back behind her shoulder.

  “Hi, Diana,” she said. She managed to make it sound like a purr.

  “This is my friend, Clyde Fortune.” Diana gestured at me.

  “Oh, it’s lovely to meet you!” Tatiana said. “I’ve heard so much about you and I’ve only been here for a couple of days.”

  “Oh?” I looked to Diana for guidance, but she just shrugged.

  “I opened last weekend and I’ve been fixing up my shop—it’s right through there.” She smiled and waved her hand at a doorway leading to a small store. Technically part of Diana’s store; she had rented it out for years.

  “But that’s Tanya’s shop,” I said.

  Tatiana nodded. “My cousin. She had an opportunity come up that she couldn’t refuse, so she turned it over to me.”

  I had never gotten along that well with Tanya, so it wasn’t a loss to me, but I wondered what would make her leave so suddenly.

  “Are you a palm reader, like your cousin?”

  Tatiana shrugged. “I taught her everything she knows. Here, let me take at look at yours.”

  She grabbed my hand before I could step away and held it in a surprisingly strong grip.

  “Let’s see, a nice long life line. You spend a lot of time lost in your own thoughts . . . and oh, my.”

  “What?” I leaned forward in spite of myself.

  “Gotcha!” Tatiana winked. “Just kidding. You stop by the shop and I’ll take a proper look. See you soon, Diana.”

  “Bye, Tatiana.”

  The bell tinkled as she stepped through the connecting door.

  “It’s her favorite joke,” Diana said. “She was in here the other day trolling for customers, getting them all worked up. I had to ask her to leave.”

  “Well, she’s friendlier than Tanya,” I said.

  “I suppose. I get a weird vibe from her, though.” Diana twirled a curl around her finger. “I can’t quite figure her out.”

  “She was in here asking about athames,” Bethany said.

  Athames were ritual blades used in some Wiccan ceremonies. Diana didn’t display them in her shop, but I knew she sold them to known customers.

  “Really? What would she want with one of those?”

  Bethany shrugged and went back to straightening the incense boxes.

  * * *

  The day was even warmer than Seth and Alex had hoped. I was glad we wouldn’t be running that evening through dark, zombie-infested, cold, and wet woods. The dark and the zombies were enough. I met Mac at the gazebo in the park and we walked together to Rupert’s office.

  “Oh, good, you’re all here,” Rupert said as he greeted us in his front office. “Come on back. I sent Phyllis out on an errand, as Mr. and Mrs. Proffit stressed the sensitive nature of our meeting.”

  Mac met my raised-eyebrow look with one of his own and we followed Rupert into the inner office.

  Grace and Paul turned as we entered, and Paul stood to shake Mac’s hand.

  “Sorry for the cloak-and-dagger routine,” he said. “We didn’t know any other way.”

  Mac and I sat in the two folding chairs Rupert must have pulled in from storage. The five of us barely fit in his small office, made even more cramped by the piles of paper and file folders stacked precariously around the room and on every flat surface.

  “Let me just get the file here,” Rupert said. He ran his fingers down the stack nearest him on the desk and chose one toward the bottom. He tugged, and the rest of the pile tottered. Grace grabbed the leaning pile and lifted it for Rupert.

  Rupert seemed not to notice. It must be part of Phyllis’s job description to keep the piles standing upright.

  He flipped open the file. “I have all the paperwork ready to go here. Two versions, just as you asked,” Rupert said. He nodded at Paul and Grace.

  “Is anyone going to tell us what is going on?” Mac said.

  “Yes, yes,” Rupert said. He patted the air in front of him and turned to Grace. “Mrs. Proffit?”

  “Paul and I wanted to ask the both of you if you would be willing to ac
t as guardians for Seth and Sophie if anything should happen to us.” She took Paul’s hand.

  “That’s it?” I said. “You want me to be a guardian? I’m already doing that with Seth. Besides, nothing is going to happen to you.”

  “We’d like both of you to agree,” Grace said, and looked at Mac.

  “But we’re not . . . married. We . . .” I trailed off. I hadn’t expected this part.

  “No, we know that. But, c’mon guys, you will be someday.” Grace smiled at me. “You don’t need to be psychic to see that.”

  I heard a roaring in my ears and my heart pounded. Leave it to Grace to ruin everything. Mac and I were in a great place. I had just gotten my mother to back off on her wedding hints, and now this.

  “Grace, that is very presumptuous of you. Mac doesn’t need to take on this kind of responsibility,” I said, trying to control the edge that had crept into my voice.

  “Clyde, it’s fine.” Mac put his hand on mine. He turned to Grace and Paul. “I assume you’ll give us some time to discuss this?”

  “Of course. But this is the part that we need to keep secret,” Grace said. She glanced at the closed office door. “Paul and I are in trouble.”

  Mac leaned back in his chair. His cop face had appeared. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Pretty scary trouble,” Paul said. “We aren’t asking this as a precaution against a freak accident. We’re actually in danger.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” I said. “You guys are stockbrokers.”

  They exchanged a glance. Grace took a deep breath.

  “We’ve gotten in over our heads in a situation that involves some very dangerous people.” She held up her hands when I started to speak. “Just let me get this out. A couple of years ago, we took on a very big client and we made some investments for him that did really well. Then he referred a friend who wanted to invest a lot of money. We didn’t realize that the friend was connected to the Milano family and in fact was using their money to make the investments. Just before the stock market tanked, I advised all my clients to restructure, but this client refused. He was making money hand over fist and he didn’t want to stop. He thought we were just running scared like everyone else at the time.”