by Terri Thayer
Clive took out the garbage. April marched down the hall to her mother’s bedroom. Bonnie had dumped the contents of a large bag on her bed.
“Mom! Is that who I think he is? Clive Pierce from the Kickapoos? What’s he doing in Aldenville?” April said. She couldn’t keep the wonder from her voice. This little town’s only brush with fame had been Jack Palance’s farm up the road several miles. Not exactly paparazzi material.
“He fell in love with the place when the band came for a concert at the Grove twenty years ago.”
“You took me to that concert,” April cried.
“No need to shout, dear. I remember. We had a wonderful time.”
April remembered it that way, too. She’d been young enough to like hanging out with her mother. For a mother and daughter about to enter the rending teen years, it had been a wonderful day. One of the best days of her childhood.
And now. Ewww.
“What’s he doing with you?” April said.
Bonnie’s eyes flashed. “Is there some reason he shouldn’t be with me?” she said crustily.
“That’s not what I meant,” April said, even though that was exactly what she’d meant. “It’s just that . . .” April paused to look at her mother. She softened. Her mother looked young and pretty, tiny tendrils of hair stuck to her ruddy cheeks.
“Mom, he was a megastar.”
“Yeah, well, superstars need to eat, too.”
“Is that all you do for him?” April regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Bonnie frowned deeply.
April was trying to figure out how old he was. He had to be older than Bonnie, who was fifty-eight. April remembered finding an original Kickapoos record in her mother’s collection. What about that fashion rule? If you wore bell bottoms the first time they were fashionable, you couldn’t wear them the next time they were popular. Did that apply to your pop icons? If you had a crush on them once, when you were a teenager, weren’t you forbidden from dating them forever?
Bonnie shrugged. “He’s just a man, April. Nothing special.”
April knew her mother well enough to know that this was a lie. He was something special to her, not because of his superstardom, but despite it. He had given her reason to smile again, and for that April was glad.
Plus it meant her mother would leave her alone more.
She followed Bonnie back into the kitchen, where the towels were pressed on her, and she gathered up her purse. “I’m glad you’ve got someone in your life,” April said.
“Don’t be a stranger,” her mother said, bussing her cheek and brushing a hair from her face. “I like having you in town.
April pulled at the door. It opened easily, as Clive was coming through from the breezeway. He grinned at her, his teeth bright white in the fading sunlight.
“Who’s up for a game of cribbage?”
April begged off. She wasn’t yet ready for a family game night with Bonnie and her new beau.
CHAPTER 8
After leaving her mother’s, April sped over to Deana’s, slowing down when she realized she was doing forty-five miles per hour in a thirty zone. Yost had often lingered just beyond the curve to catch speeders. She let out a breath when no red lights materialized behind her. Yost should be off duty.
Through the door, April saw Deana’s husband, Mark, get up from the kitchen table in answer to her knock. Deana had met her husband the first year of mortuary college. April remembered the calls she’d gotten about the cute redhead in her embalming class. Mark had turned out to be a keeper. Gregarious and empathetic, he had no trouble fitting into the community.
Mark greeted her with a friendly hug. He was one of the good guys. When the world seemed too full of Ken-type man-boys, April clung to the belief that Mark was more representative of his gender.
“Good to see you,” he said. “Are you glad to be back in town?”
April laughed. “Considering the day I had, I’m reserving judgment, for now. I just got out of playing cribbage with the old folks.”
“Better cribbage than canasta,” Mark said in the manner of someone who’d experienced both.
“The best part of being back is being this close to Deana. I hope you don’t mind me dropping in. Often,” she warned.
Mark smiled. “I’ll console myself with the nonexistent phone bill.”
Mark led her down the hall, past the bedrooms, opening a door at the end. “They’re in the reception hall.”
The hall was used for postfuneral luncheons and dinners. People in Aldenville liked to eat while mourning their dead. The walls were painted a serene moss green, with an oak wainscoting that ran around the room. The industrial carpet had been replaced since she and Deana had practiced their handstands and round-offs, and was now a gleaming hardwood floor. Racks of folding chairs and piles of collapsed tables sat in the far corner, waiting for the next big event, which, according to her mother, was George’s wake tomorrow.
As she entered the room she saw two of the eight-foot banquet tables had been set up in the middle of the floor, and the stampers from last night were seated at them. She recognized Rocky, Mitch’s sister, sitting next to Tammy. Mary Lou, the realtor, and Suzi, the gardener, had their heads together. Mary Lou’s pregnant daughter was not here tonight. That was too bad. She liked Kit. There was no sign of Piper.
Deana waved her over.
Papers, ink pads and fancy-edged scissors littered the tabletop. April smelled the heat gun as a small piece of metal in front of Mary Lou shriveled away from the high temperature as if it were alive.
“Look who’s here, everybody,” Deana said as she pushed away from the table and put an arm around April. The group said hello. April thought she heard a warning in her friend’s voice. The kind of warning given when the subject of today’s gossip walked into the room. She knew the skull would be on everyone’s mind. Even in San Francisco, where the weird and bizarre were the norm, the appearance of a human skull was likely to garner some attention.
She glanced at Rocky. After all, the skull had been found on her family property. But Rocky looked nonplussed. The Winchesters had more experience with family scandals than she did. April only had Ed.
“How are you?” Tammy asked, her eyes searching for an answer in her face. April felt her empathy. Tammy probably made a great nurse’s aide.
April decided to ignore the elephant in the room. For now.
“Bewildered,” April said, hitching a hand on her hip. “I’ve just come from dinner with my mother.” She let her voice rise dramatically.
She looked to Deana for commiseration, but Deana had crossed the room to fetch a chair for her. It was Rocky who figured out why April was so frazzled.
“I take it you met Clive?” Rocky said.
The group giggled as one. April caught some smiles and an exchange of knowing glances. Everyone knew about her mother’s boyfriend.
“Guess I was the last to find out about my mother and the rock star,” she said, still keeping her tone light. She accepted a chair from Deana. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she said to Deana.
Suzi said, “He’s had a crush on your mother ever since he moved here. It’s only lately that we’ve seen them together.”
“Honestly, your mother should have better sense,” Rocky said.
Now what, April thought.
“I mean, when your name is Bonnie,” Rocky said with a grin that gave April pause, “you really shouldn’t date someone named Clive. People will mistake you for bank robbers.”
Everyone laughed. The gentle teasing helped. April was beginning to feel at home. Deana winked at her twice, their secret signal. April felt the tightness in her chest ease. She winked back.
“He’s the sweetest guy,” Tammy said. “I did private duty nursing for him when he got out of rehab the last time.”
“Rehab?” April’s mood shifted as her stomach plummeted. A new worry.
“He’s doing great,” Tammy hastened to add. “He’s been clean and sober for months now. Y
our mother insisted.”
Mary Lou cleared the table next to her. “Come, sit, you need to get your hands dirty. Have some glue, shake out a few sparkles, and breathe in the ink fumes. That’ll set you right. You’ve had a shock.”
April obliged. Creative clutter usually did make her feel better. She fingered a floral rice paper. The pastels were soothing, a balm to her soul. She took in a breath.
“I don’t have a project with me. Deana insisted I stop by.”
“You can help me,” Tammy said. “Deana and I are working on funeral cards for George.”
“Funeral cards?” April asked. Tammy handed her what looked like a book mark.
Printed on ivory-colored heavy linen stock were the words, “Friend, husband, father.” A black-and-white picture of a fresh-faced World War II sailor was at the top of the paper. Below, “George Weber, April 2, 1925-June 13, 2008.”
April remembered him. In addition to being a code enforcement inspector for the town, George had been an insurance agent—her family’s insurance agent. He’d come to the house when she was younger, scaring her silly about the winter driving, telling her more about the pitfalls of black ice than she’d ever wanted to know. In-surance, he’d called it, like a southerner, although he’d told her, twice, that he’d lived in the valley his whole life.
Ed had not been living at home for months by the time she’d passed her driver’s test. She missed him and did not appreciate George’s attempts at fatherly heartiness. Bonnie had not been happy with her when April had interrupted George’s story about a trucker stranded during a massive snowstorm and left the room in a teenage huff before he’d even finished the Boston cream pie Bonnie had made.
Deana said, “We’re embellishing three hundred memorial cards for George.”
“Three hundred?” April asked, thinking she’d heard her wrong. Did George know that many people?
Deana nodded. “That probably won’t be enough. George was an elder in his church, a Rotarian with a gold pin . . .”
“Do you do this for all your customers, Deana?” April asked.
Deana laughed. “No. We did it once before, when Suzi’s aunt died. She was a quilter so we did a beautiful card with buttons and antique lace. I was vacuuming up the sequins for weeks. George’s will be a little less three-dimensional.”
Tammy handed her a finished card. It looked nothing like the dull mass-printed one that they’d started with. A blue ribbon had been threaded through an eyelet in the top, and the card had been stamped with a typewriter, desk and mug. She had even used Angelina fibers to represent steam.
Tammy said, “George was kind of special. We’re using images that remind us of him. He was a hunter and fisherman. Bow and arrow. He loved his coffee. Ate at the Sunlite Diner every morning for the past thirty years.” Each time she mentioned a hobby or interest, she showed April the appropriate stamp.
Rocky held up a card and blew the excess embossing powder off it onto a clean piece of paper. “Yeah, we’re leaving out the bits about how he pinched every girl’s fanny on the way up to the choir loft.”
Mary Lou said, “Oh yeah, you never wanted to be walking in front of him going up the stairs. No-oh. Bastard had six hands, I swear.”
“Only George could combine piety and pervy and get away with it,” Rocky said.
“You’d better be careful he doesn’t come back from the dead and grab you,” Suzi cautioned.
Deana said, “There’ll be no talking of people rising from the dead in my house.”
“Bad for business,” April muttered. The group laughed, and April felt a little more accepted. She liked this group of women.
“April, you should remember him. George was always at your dad’s job sites,” Tammy said. “He was code enforcement officer back in the day.”
Rocky said, “That’s always been a patronage job. Useless people with not enough to do with their lives, so they muck up someone else’s plans.”
April understood Rocky’s vitriol. She remembered the code violation forms she’d seen in the file. The violations had only been part of the reason the Castle job took so long, though.
“He would have been hanging out at the Castle yesterday except . . .” Tammy began.
“He was dead,” Mary Lou finished.
“Mary Lou, please.” Tammy suddenly sounded very defensive. Her eyes flashed angrily, and she waved an X-Acto knife in the air. “He shouldn’t have died. He was doing well in the nursing home, just being rehabbed after hernia surgery last week. He was expected to go home in a day or two. But he up and died. Right at the end of my shift.”
Rocky rubbed Tammy’s back. “She’s got such a soft heart,” she said to April. “She takes all the deaths out there personally.”
‘Soft’ was not a word April would use to describe Tammy right now. Brittle, yes. The group fell silent, hands busy but each with her own thoughts.
“Where’s Piper? Is she coming?” April asked.
Deana answered. “Celebrating Jesse’s birthday.”
Tammy reached for a grommet tool. She stood and leaned hard on the tool, pushing the tiny metal eyelet into place. When she finished, she looked to Rocky as though for approval. Rocky nodded slightly.
“Friday night,” Tammy said. “We’re having our annual Stamp Til Dawn party at the club. Why don’t you come?”
April looked again to Deana for explanation, and she obliged. “We stay up all night and stamp. The club provides food and coffee, and we stamp until sunup.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” April said. “I’ll probably need to work on Saturday, and I shouldn’t skip that much sleep.”
“You’d really miss out,” Rocky drawled. “It’s fun. Not like new-boyfriend kind of fun, but it’s the most fun you can have with your clothes on.”
“Do you usually do things with a stamp pad and your clothes off?” Mary Lou wanted to know.
“Thanks for putting that image in my head,” Suzi said.
“Hey, Mary Lou, you were looking for an inspiration for a new project,” Tammy said. “How about a naked body?”
Mary Lou waved her off. “Honey, I don’t even look at my own husband without his clothes if I can help it,” she said.
Rocky stopped what she was doing, threw her hands up, and drawled, “Well then, how on are earth do you shave his back?” she asked.
Mary Lou led the laughter. April liked how easy they were with each other, able to poke fun and laugh. She needed to laugh.
April felt her heart soothe and the anxiety in her chest loosen as her own fingers combined stamps and inks and torn tissue paper. The card under her fingers started to take shape. She didn’t remember George well, but she knew about good design.
“So, April, tell us what you know about the explosion at the Castle,” Suzi said.
“Yeah, what happened?” Mary Lou asked. “Tammy’s not telling.”
Tammy protested, “I haven’t spoken to my husband since he left for work this morning. I came straight here from the nursing home.”
“I guess the place was already falling down,” April said, looking to Rocky to step in and clarify. When she didn’t, she went on. “The owner was worried about kids throwing parties out there, so she wanted it leveled. My father and his crew took it down, and found the skull.”
Rocky said, “My Aunt Barbara must have flipped out. She never approved of my father’s projects. The two of them have been fighting over that piece of property for years. She finally made him an offer that he thought was acceptable.”
Mary Lou’s eyes widened and she whistled. “That land is worth a lot.”
“My father was holding out for his price.” Rocky turned to April. “You should know before you get involved with my brother that there are plenty of other skeletons in my family’s closet. Not the real kind, but still. Unwanted babies, undesirable spouses, philandering husbands. Murderous wives. It’s Shakespearean, I tell you. Before you start dating my brother, you should think twice.”
April’s sto
mach flipped. “Dating? Mitch?”
Deana said sternly, “April’s married. She’s not looking for a man.”
Tammy laughed. “Just because Mitch is the best-looking and most eligible man in this valley, doesn’t mean every woman is after him, Rocky.”
“I didn’t say every woman. I just said April.” Rocky’s eyes were cold, and April wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not.
She forced herself to sound calm. “I don’t know what you heard, Rocky, but I’m not interested in Mitch. We’re just working together, that’s all.”
Mary Lou and Suzi exchanged a look. April wondered if Rocky was this territorial all the time or if it was something she brought out in her. She would keep her distance from Mitch, just in case.
The stamping went on until just after eleven. Deana walked people out while April picked up. She stacked George’s memorial cards in a box. She liked the way they looked.
Deana came back in. “Thanks. Those cards mean a lot to Tammy.”
“Oh, did she pay for them? I mean, I didn’t think this was part of the service.”
Deana laughed. “Not really, no. It was just something Tammy needed to do.”
“Isn’t it kind of expensive providing all the supplies to decorate the cards?”
Deana shrugged. “I guess.”
April changed the topic. She asked Deana if she could stay and watch the news. “I don’t have a TV in the barn. Do you mind? I’m afraid . . .” April stopped. She feared her father would be on TV again.
Deana put an arm around her. “Of course you can. Mark always watches the eleven o’clock news before he comes to bed. Let’s go into the study.”
She followed Deana down the hall. The first room on the right had been Deana’s father’s sanctuary for as long as April could remember.
“It looks exactly the same,” April said as they entered. The walls were painted dark green and covered with dark wood shelves running from the floor to the ceiling. A large desk sat in the middle of the room facing the door. Mark was seated there. A small television was hanging from a wall bracket in the corner of the room. Mark waved them in, and they sat on a leather-tufted couch. The news wasn’t on yet.