by Laura Alden
“Or,” Marina said, “should you trust your own instincts?”
“My instincts aren’t worth a thin dime,” I muttered.
“Hey, hey.” Marina grabbed me by the shoulders. “What’s with that crappy attitude? I thought I fixed all that.”
“You did?”
“Well, sure. It was the day I convinced you to become PTA secretary. Every good thing that has happened to you since then is a direct result of that action.”
“Really.”
She held up her hand and starting holding up fingers. “Proof point number one. You haven’t called and asked me what you should cook for dinner in months. Number two, last fall you stood up to that horrible Marcia and fired her. Number three, you’ve helped bring not one, but two, killers to justice.”
I waited, but it seemed she was done. “All this is because you browbeat me into being PTA secretary?” The connection seemed tenuous, at best.
“Well, sure. Way down deep inside you’ve craved a position of authority. Now that you’re on the PTA board, you’re becoming the person you were always supposed to be. You’ve learned to talk to people you don’t want to, and you’ve learned to put yourself forward. It’s been good for you, see?”
She went on, but my thoughts were jogging in place, back at where she’d said I’d learned to talk to people I didn’t want to.
It wasn’t true, of course. If I had, I’d have confronted Gus long ago and found a way to a reconciliation. I would have put my foot down with Auntie May, and I would have had a long, firm chat with Claudia Wolff.
No, I still had a definite tendency to retreat from confrontation. Bad Beth, who shied away from the hard things in life. Bad Beth, setting a poor example for her children.
As Marina kept finding more positive outcomes of my secretarial role—which apparently included helping Debra O’Conner become human, firing Paoze’s ambition to write the Great American Novel, and my new recipe for macaroni and cheese—I realized there was someone I did want to talk to.
“No confrontation required,” I murmured.
Marina paused in the middle of trying to include Oliver’s story-writing ability as a part of the argument proving how much being PTA secretary had improved my life. “What’s that?”
“Nothing,” I said. “And it’s past time for me to get going.” I called out a good-bye to the kids. Lame “See ya’s,” came back from the family room. I collected my purse and headed for the back door.
“Hey, Beth? There’s one little thing left for you to work on improving.”
Just one? That was good to know.
“Quit with the being afraid thing, okay? It’s a waste of time, you know.”
I tried to lift one eyebrow. Failed. “Am I your project today?”
“This day and all days.” She grinned. “Forever and ever. Aren’t you lucky?”
I stuck my tongue out at her and left, shutting the door with a bang.
* * *
Due to a young girl and her father waiting outside the front door, I opened the bookstore ten minutes early.
Lois shook her head and watched as the child flew past on her way to the picture book section. “I can’t believe you did that. Time on the sign says we open at ten o’clock. This is like breaking a promise.”
“If we’d made that kid wait ten minutes, she’d have convinced her dad to drive to the mall and gone to the toy store instead.”
“Huh.” She looked at me approvingly. “And here I thought you were being a pushover.”
I wasn’t about to tell her that it had been the beseeching look in the large brown eyes that had convinced me to open the deadbolt. The businesslike reason had come to me just in time.
Paoze poked his head around an endcap of middle grade books featuring the latest big new thing—mermaid vampires. “The water is now hot. Mrs. Kennedy, would you care for tea?”
“Hello? Am I invisible today?” Lois put her fists on her hips. “Don’t I get an offer?”
“Thanks, Paoze,” I said. “But I have some errands to run. That’s assuming you two can manage to work together without someone having to call law enforcement.”
“Hey, we’re the best of friends.” Lois stepped next to Paoze. She slung her arm around his shoulders and clunked her head against his. “Right, kid? Butch and Sundance. Holmes and Watson. Batman and Robin.”
“Robert Parker and Harry Longabaugh,” Paoze said, “were thieves. I do not wish to be associated with the Sundance Kid.”
“Fine,” Lois snapped, pulling her arm away. “You can be Bert and I’ll be Ernie.”
“I prefer to be Laurel,” Paoze said.
“Meaning I’m Hardy?” Lois’s voice went up. “Are you calling me fat?”
“You can be Eddie, if you wish.”
“Who’s Eddie?”
Paoze turned away from her and toward me. Dropped his eyelid—the one out of sight of Lois—in a slow wink. “Eddie is the partner of Vince.” He looked at her askance. “You have not heard of them? I thought everyone knows.”
She tipped her head to one side. “Those names are kind of familiar. Are they guys from some TV show?”
“It is very popular with young people,” he said. “Eddie is a woman, of course. Vince is her partner. Together they solve many crimes.”
Lois nodded. “Okay, I think I’ve heard of it. Takes place in California, doesn’t it?”
He let her have that one. “They are based in Los Angeles, yes, but they travel all over the world. The interesting thing about this partnership is that Vince is much younger than Edwina. Eddie.”
“Yeah? Sounds like a great show.”
“Vince and Eddie work for a shadowy organization of which we know little. When they are undercover many people think she’s his mother, which they use to their advantage. Older women are often underestimated, and mothers even more so, especially by men. They use this knowledge to entrap many criminals. In one episode, she pretends to be in the hospital on her deathbed while Vince finds proof that medications are being stolen by a group including a doctor, an administrator, and a janitor. In another episode, Vince pretends to be lost in the Florida Everglades, which enables Eddie to infiltrate a human trafficking ring.”
Lois kept nodding until he started talking about an episode that had Eddie and Vince hang gliding in North Dakota. He really should have known better.
“Wait a minute,” Lois said. “Hang gliding? In North Dakota? There’s no Eddie, is there? And there’s no Vince. You fooled me. You actually fooled me. I can’t believe it!”
Her howl of outrage was a thing of beauty. Paoze had, at last, suckered her.
I walked out, grinning broadly.
* * *
This time I barely heard the electronic “ding” as I walked into Faye’s Flowers. The shop, already crowded with plants and greeting cards and adorable ceramic objects that would be horrendous to dust, was so packed with people that my claustrophobia kicked into high gear.
I stood a moment, looking at the pine ceiling, breathing in the eucalyptus scent, willing my panic to ebb, and slowly realized that the mass of humanity in the shop was really only three women, that they were shopping together, and that they were on their way out the door, purchases in hand.
They passed me by, chatting as they went. “My sister is going to just fall in love with this frog.” “These soaps smell divine.” “We’ll have to remember to come back at Christmas.”
I waited until the door closed, then moved forward through the store.
Do not be distracted by that shelf of gardening books. Do not allow yourself more than a glance at the scented candles. Do not stop, do not even slow down at the greeting card rack.
I reached the counter without picking up a single item—victory!— but Faye was nowhere to be seen. The counter was cluttered with point of sale items ranging from pens with daisies popping out their tops to appointment calendars, I averted my gaze from a selection of miniature picture frames. “Hello? Faye?”
He
r voice came from somewhere in the back. “Be right with you.”
While I waited, I kept my hands in my pockets and my eyes focused on the view out the window. Which wasn’t very inspiring since it looked directly on to the beige vinyl siding of the building next door, but being bored was distinctly better than being lured into purchasing things I didn’t need and couldn’t really afford.
Faye bustled in. “Sorry about the wait. How can I—oh.”
“Hi.” Smiling, I held out my hand. “Beth Kennedy. I was in the other day.”
“I remember.” She used the quick “I suppose shaking your hand is required, but I’d really rather not touch you” grip. “You were asking about Kelly Engel.”
“Yes. But—”
“So what is it today?” Faye put her hands on the counter and leaned forward. She was using all six feet of her height to intimidate, and the technique was working well. “A bouquet of carnations along with ferns, baby’s breath, and what I really thought about Kelly?”
I made an open-palmed gesture, inviting her opinion.
“That girl,” she said tightly, “was a hoity-toity little you-know-what who thought she was better than everybody else.”
Her venom rushed out and hit me with the force of anger held in too long.
“You should have seen how the town turned out for her funeral. All the tears and the sobbing and the wailing.” Faye rolled her eyes. “What a crock. Most of the people didn’t know her and most of the ones who did had been talking behind her back the week before.”
She stopped, and looked at her hands. She made fists, then released them.
“Talking about what?” I asked.
“Oh, all the horrible things girls talk about at that age.” She shook her head, leaving her high school years behind. “How she deserved being dumped by her boyfriend, how she didn’t deserve valedictorian, how she wasn’t that pretty, not really, and why couldn’t the boys see that?”
All very interesting, but not surprising. I remembered my high school years too well, sometimes. “I was wondering about the slumber party. Were you there?”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” She tossed her head back, exposing her slender neck, then brought her head forward so fast that her hair fell in front of her eyes. She shoved at it roughly. “How many times am I going to be asked about that stupid party? Yes, I was there. No, I never left. No, I never saw anyone else leave. Are you satisfied, Miss Nosey Pants?”
Nosey Pants? I briefly wondered if I’d missed a new children’s cartoon. Because thinking about cartoons was preferable by far to dealing with the emotions that were rolling over me with enough speed to pull me down. The ship is in danger, Cap’n! What should we do? Steady yourselves, men. This could be a rough ride.
Faye made shooing motions at me. “Now go away and tell Mrs. Engel that her daughter’s death was an accident. Axe. Ih. Dent.” She enunciated crisply and cleanly. “There’s no mystery to any of it, okay?” Her gaze skittered over the top of me.
“That wasn’t,” I said, “what I was wondering about. What I’m curious about is who else was at the slumber party.”
Her face went quiet for an instant, then started up again. “Who else? You want to know who else?” Her voice went loud. “What I want to know, is what business is it of yours?”
Large parts of me wanted to flee the scene, but a growing, glowing, and heretofore unknown portion of me was ready to face up to the famed Lowery anger. Let her rant and rave, I could take it. Let her smite me with her words, I would not fall back from the blow.
I stood tall. Which put the top of my head at least six inches below hers, but if I tipped my chin up I could look her full in the face without hurting my neck too badly.
“Maude Hoffman made it my business,” I said evenly. “Barb Engel made it my business. Why, after all this time, are you still so angry? Why do you still care so much?”
“Because you’re wasting my time!” She slapped the countertop, sending a slap of piercing sound straight into my ears. “And because you’re still here. Why are you still in my store? Get out!” She charged around the end of the counter, arms pumping, blond hair flying. “If I have to tell you one more time, I’m calling the cops.”
She stood in front of me and crossed her arms, an Amazon handing down a command. “I’ll give you until the count of three to get going.”
If she called the Rynwood Police Department and Gus came over, I’d probably get tossed in jail. If Officer Sean caught the call, I might get off with a disappointed look. Which was a hard thing to take from someone half my age. Either way, I’d be removed from the premises without getting any answers.
“Thank you for your assistance,” I said politely, and threaded my way through the retail maze to the front door, thinking furiously all the way.
Because there was one other thing I knew. It wasn’t a fact, but it was real enough, and it was learned thanks to years of motherhood, PTA meetings, bookstore ownership, and forty-one years of living among human beings.
Faye was lying.
* * *
When I walked into the bookstore, Lois looked at me and frowned. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” I made a beeline for the back of the store, doing my best to send off “Leave me alone” signals.
“Don’t believe you.” Lois dogged my footsteps, followed me into my office, and shut the door behind us. “You’re white as the skin on my legs in April. What’s wrong? And don’t you dare tell me nothing.”
I sat in my chair. Stared at my computer. Saw a blank screen. Didn’t care.
“Um,” Lois said. “Beth, are you okay?”
Her soft voice of concern almost undid me. Maybe I could keep a stiff upper lip against anger, and maybe I could turn my cheek away from a personal attack, but how could I keep from responding to kindness? And if I reacted to her kindness, a reaction to Faye’s hatred would come right after, and I didn’t have time for that.
“I have an idea,” Lois said briskly. “Why don’t you go out for a walk? Clear your head of whatever fuzziness is in there. We need you to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and right now you’re dull-eyed, slack-jawed, and near to drooling.”
I swiped at my mouth with the back of my wrist. Dry. Whew.
“A walk will be perfect.” Lois tugged at my hand. “Go to that park you’re always talking about. Get some fresh air, and don’t come back until you’ve walked off those cookies.” She squinted. “Of course, since it’s already ten thirty, there probably aren’t enough hours in the day for that. But you could get a good start on one of them, yes?”
She shoved my purse at me and I clutched it to my chest. “Lois,” I said, then stopped. What could I say next? That a few harsh words from someone I barely knew were making my hands shake? Or worse than that; I’d almost drowned two nights ago and had been saved by a ghost I didn’t believe in?
“Go.” She gave me a gentle shove. “No coming back until you can put together a complete sentence.”
Since there was no possible way I could do that, I left.
* * *
Outside, the light breeze that had followed me to Faye’s and back had grown into a stiff wind. I’d been afraid of wind for years thanks to a legendary storm in my childhood, complete with hail and falling trees. Today, though, the gust that blew into my face was invigorating me. Intrepid Beth, going out for a walk in weather that would keep most people inside.
I drove home and ran into the house for a jacket. Spot looked up from his dog-hair-covered dog bed.
“Oh, bugger.” I’d promised Evan I’d take Spot with me whenever I went out alone.
It was broad daylight. What could possibly happen?
Most likely nothing.
But I’d promised.
If I took Spot, though, I’d have to bring him back home, and there was a To Do list at the store that needed some serious crossings-off. Taking even this much time away was an indulgence. If I had to bring Spot back, I’d get that much less done.
Muttering small annoying thoughts about men, I grabbed the leash from the hook in the laundry room. “Come on, boy. Let’s go for a walk.”
Ten minutes later, we were deep in the park. Dabs of light filtered down through the leaves, dappling Spot with spots of sunlight. “You’re the oddest looking leopard ever,” I told him.
His tongue hung half out of his mouth and he gave me a doggy grin. Clearly, he was agreeing with me.
“Yep,” I said. “For a leopard, you make a pretty good-looking dog. And for a—” A large wasp buzzed close to my face. I swatted it away. “Be a good wasp and go home, okay? I’m sure it’s not far and . . . oh.”
Half a dozen yards in front of me, in the middle of the trail, lay the scattered bits of a fallen wasp nest. Around the light gray papery chunks buzzed hundreds of homeless insects.
I stopped dead and pulled Spot close to my side. If we didn’t advance on their angry sorrow, we’d be fine. If we backed away from the complex remnants that had once been a community, we wouldn’t be targeted.
Slowly, oh so slowly, I edged backward, quickly learning that Spot didn’t like moving that way. He whined, and I looked sharp at the circling wasps. Did they hear? Could they? Hadn’t I read that insects didn’t really hear? Or was it that they heard differently? If they did, would they interpret Spot’s whine as a threat and zoom after us?
“Come on, boy.” I started to spin around, giving the wasps one last glance . . . and the world stopped.
I stood still, one thought and one thought only running around in my head.
Could it be?
Was it possible?
I stared at the nest, thinking, wanting to know the answer, yet not wanting to know. Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.
“Let’s go, Spot.”
Chapter 16
The grass on Amy’s lawn was past knee high. If it didn’t get cut soon, the city would be sending a polite yet firm “mow your lawn soon or you’ll get fined” letter.
A fleeting thought to mow it myself wormed its silly way into my brain and I shook my head to send it back out again. No. Not my responsibility. Not even close.