by Lois Winston
Jenny patted my hand. “Take it easy, Mom. I’m not that naïve. I’m as anxious as you are to keep Dad’s name out of it. It was just a casual conversation, that’s all. She was naturally curious, because of the story in the newspaper. She knew that you and Dad had gone to see Rhodes, and she wanted to know what your reaction was to Rhodes’s death.”
I swallowed hard, and told myself that my daughter was a grown-up now and mature enough to handle sticky situations. And she wasn’t a gossip. Her conversation with Linda was perfectly innocent.
But speaking of sticky situations, I decided to take the plunge and bring up another subject before Jim got home. There were a few other things going on in the Andrews family that concerned me. Although I knew they were none of my business.
“Jenny, I’ve been meaning to ask you about Jeff. You know that Dad and I have both tried very hard to honor your privacy, but have you been in touch with him since you’ve been home? Email, phone, anything?”
“I know you’ve both been walking on eggshells about Jeff and me.” Jenny said, looking sad, but resigned. “It’s been very hard for me to talk about this, but he’s finally accepted the fact that our relationship is definitely over. Kaput. Finis. It’s for the best, at least for me. For all I know, he’s al- ready started seeing somebody else.”
I started to interrupt her, but she went on, “What I have to figure out is when I can go back to California for the rest of my things. I have a lot of clothes still in the apartment, and some furniture. I’ll probably sell the furniture, or see if Jeff wants it, but either way, I’ll have to go back there sometime after the summer semester ends. I’m not looking forward to it, though. I tell myself that I can handle it, and that I won’t be emotional, but I’m afraid that when I see Jeff, it’s going to be too hard for me. I guess I’m not quite as grown up as I’d like to think I am.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to this, but being me, I couldn’t keep quiet. And I had, after all, introduced the subject in the first place.
“Oh, sweetie, would you feel better if I went along with you? We could make a vacation out of it, maybe combine it with a trip to Hawaii.”
“Mom, that’s a great offer. Let me think about it, okay?” Jenny patted my cheek. “You really are a doll. You and Dad have made it so easy for me to come back home. But if I decide to stay in Fairport, I’m going to have to get my own place. You understand that, right?”
“Sure I do. But we both really love having you here. And frankly, right now, I’m grateful for your moral support. I hope you don’t think that’s selfish of me. I’m just so concerned about your father.”
The Father-in-Question arrived home from New York about ten minutes later. Fortunately, Jenny and I had moved on to more mundane topics of conversation by that time.
When Jim came through the kitchen door, I gave him a quick hug and whispered in his ear, “How are things?” He squeezed me back and didn’t answer me. Typical. I wasn’t sure if he was being difficult or he just hadn’t heard me. He’s an expert at selective hearing. I fought the urge to cross-examine him, because Jenny was still in the kitchen and I didn’t want a confrontation. But he didn’t look like he’d faced a firing squad at work, which was comforting.
“Something smells good,” Jim said. “I can tell that you two have been preparing another wonderful feast. What are we having?” He headed toward the stove where Jenny was working and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Then he lifted up a pot lid and sniffed the contents.
Two can play at the let’s-just-talk-about-trivial-stuff-and-not-what’s- really-on-our-minds’ game, so I gave him tonight’s menu. “Chicken with broccoli, brown rice, and a tossed salad. Oh, and I got an email from Mike about a new drink he’s come up with for the bar. It’s called the Cosmo Girl’s Cosmopolitan. Do you want to try one before dinner?”
“I’d rather just have a glass of wine, Carol,” Jim said. “You know I don’t like those fancy drinks. I have some news, most of it good, but I’d rather change out of this suit and tie first. I will tell you both, though, that everything went fine at work today, and that I talked to Sheila Carney.”
I started to ask a question, but Jim held up his hand to silence me. “Before you leap to any conclusions, she called me. And I’ve heard nothing from the police, so I think yesterday’s nightmare is over. Thank God.”
Oh, boy, I thought. Wait till he hears the police were here to talk to me.
“That’s great, Dad,” said Jenny, ever the supportive daughter. She flashed me a questioning look and I shook my head slightly.
The phone rang just as Jim was leaving the kitchen to go upstairs and change. Our caller I.D. announced it was Patrolman Mark Anderson. Yikes!
“Jim, wait a minute. Mark Anderson is on the phone. Maybe he wants to talk to you.”
Jim froze in the doorway, and his expression reminded me of a deer caught in car headlights right before it gets hit. I cleared my throat and answered the phone, forcing myself to sound cheerful and upbeat.
After the basic preliminaries were out of the way, I put my hand over the receiver and hissed at Jim, “Relax. Mark’s calling to talk to Jenny, not you.” I handed her the phone. “Why don’t you take the call in the family room so you can have some privacy?” I congratulated myself on being so selfless. I was dying of curiosity but I couldn’t let Jenny know that.
Jim let out a huge sigh of relief and started to leave the kitchen. I grabbed his arm to stop him. He wasn’t getting away from me that easily, and I knew I had to talk fast while Jenny was on the phone.
“Mark and his partner were here to ask me some questions this morning. I didn’t call you at the office and upset you, and I tried very hard to give answers about Rhodes that wouldn’t put you in a bad light. But that was difficult for me because I wasn’t clear about what you told the police last night. Since you haven’t bothered to share a lot of it with me.” I glared at him.
Jim’s face had turned to stone. “You should have called and told me the police had been here. What’s the matter with you?”
“What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with you? Why won’t you tell me what’s going on? I’m your wife, for God’s sake,” I shot back.
“Larry said it wasn’t necessary to get specific with anyone, including you, about what the police asked me,” Jim said defensively. “I did give the police truthful answers to their questions, but I didn’t mention my doing some P.R. work for Rhodes, or how I’d come to his office yesterday to confront him. I didn’t lie to them. I just didn’t offer any additional information. By the time Larry got to the Center last night, the police were through with their questions. But when I told him how I framed my answers, Larry said I was right to handle the interview that way. He also instructed me that if it comes out that Rhodes was my client, not the other way around, I should just say I didn’t clarify the relationship because I wasn’t asked to.”
“But Rhodes wasn’t really your client,” I said. “That’s part of the problem. Don’t you see that?”
Jim gave me a sharp look, so I shut up. “What did the police ask you about, Carol?”
“They wanted to confirm how we met Davis Rhodes,” I said. “I tried to give very general answers, but I was nervous. It helped that Mark Anderson was one of the officers who was here, but I sure didn’t like his partner. He did everything he could to shake me up.”
I grabbed Jim’s arm and said, “The only way we’re going to get through this mess is to handle it together. We’ve got to be honest with each other. Please don’t try to shield me or hide things from me. I’ll go crazy if you do.”
“I’m sorry, Carol,” Jim said. “It’s just hard for me to admit that I’m not in control of this situation. But at least I still have my job. And the talk with Sheila Carney went well. I’ll tell you and Jenny all about it after I change. Thanks for the support, honey.” He gave me a quick peck on the cheek, then added, “I called you today on your cell phone and left you a few messages. Did you get them?”
“I was here all day,” I said. “In fact, Nancy, Mary Alice and Claire came over for lunch. Why didn’t you call me on the home phone?”
“I’ve told you before that I never know where you are during the day,” Jim said impatiently. “You’re always out somewhere or other. That’s why I got you the cell phone. Didn’t you have it on?”
To tell the truth, I didn’t have the faintest idea where my cell phone was at that moment. But I certainly wasn’t going to admit that. I’d worry about finding it later. “I didn’t think to put the cell phone on, because I was home all day,” I replied in an even tone. “You should have tried here first, like you usually do. Next time you need to reach me, leave a message on the home voice mail, too, okay?”
Jim gave me an impatient look. “I don’t have time to leave two messages all the time. I don’t see why you can’t use your cell phone the way everyone else in the twenty-first century does.”
I was not about to fight that battle again. “Why don’t you get changed and I’ll tell you about my lunch today, dear?” I asked. “I think you’ll be interested at the news.”
Jenny wandered back into the kitchen, the phone in her hand and a little smile on her face. “Well, that was a surprise. Mark asked me to meet him for coffee tomorrow afternoon. Do you think that counts as a date?”
“I think that counts as two old friends getting together to catch up on their lives,” Jim said. “And if you could manage to put in a good word for your old man at the same time, that would be a bonus.
“And now,” he announced, “I am really going upstairs to change.”
~*~
Dinner was pleasant enough, all things considered. I was glad I had cleared the air with Jim, so we could enjoy being together as a family. For once.
Jenny chattered happily about her classes, and appeared to be looking forward to her coffee “date” with Mark Anderson. I filed that thought away to chew on when I was a little less distracted. If I ever was a little less distracted.
She didn’t mention our conversation about Jeff, and neither did I. Naturally, we couldn’t entirely avoid talking about the Davis Rhodes situation.
I was burning with curiosity about whether the Wake Up New England fiasco had come up at the office, but when I asked Jim about it, he was deliberately vague. “I finessed it, Carol. Everything is fine. The details aren’t important.”
What the heck did that mean? Women lived for details, and men never wanted to share them. I hoped that Jim’s “finessing” hadn’t involved more out-and-out lying. I made a conscious decision not to obsess about that. Easier said than done.
Jim did deign to share some of the details of his conversation with Sheila Carney with Jenny and me, however.
“You know, Sheila really was the brains behind the Re-tirement Survival Center,” he said, “and Rhodes didn’t give her any credit at all. She’s the one who came up with the whole strategy, and was the book’s ghostwriter. But Rhodes told her it would be threatening to men if she appeared to have so much control, and it would be much better if he was the front man for the Center. Because most of their clients are men facing retirement, not women. And men relate better to other men. It made sense to me.”
Of course it made sense to you. You always were a sucker for blondes. I didn’t really say that, of course.
But I didn’t buy the story Sheila had told Jim for one minute. After all, now that Rhodes was dead, couldn’t Sheila take credit for anything she wanted? Who would be around to dispute her? I made a mental note to go online later, just for the heck of it, and check the Center’s web page. I wondered if busy little Sheila had doctored it to promote herself and downplay Rhodes.
“What did she say about the Wake Up New England appearance, Dad?” Jenny asked. “Did you ask her about that?”
“She had a perfectly logical explanation. Apparently, before I ever met Rhodes, Sheila had done a mailing of advance copies of the book and a press release to all the major news outlets in the area. The Wake Up New England producer called Rhodes, and they set up a date for him to appear on the show. Rhodes never thought to mention it to me. It didn’t occur to him that I would see it as a problem.”
I thought that sounded like a very weak explanation, but Jim had bought it, hook, line and sinker.
“What about now, Jim?” Since he had finally begun to open up a little, I was bound and determined to weasel as much information out of him as I could. “Did Sheila ask you about continuing your professional relationship with the Center?”
Jim nodded. “She really wants my help in promoting the Re-tirement Survival Center. And before you say anything else, I talked to Mack about it. There’ll be a written contract which all parties will sign. With a retainer. It’ll all be on the up and up. Sheila said Rhodes felt comfortable cementing deals with just a handshake, but we both agreed a written contract was essential to protect all our interests and prevent any potential misunderstandings.”
“I hate to be ghoulish, Dad,” said Jenny, “but did you ask Sheila if the police had been around to question her about Rhodes’s death? Is she considered his next of kin? How does she think he died?” Way to go, Jenny. Keep those questions coming.
“She did say the police had been at the Center today, but we didn’t get into specifics. And we certainly didn’t speculate about how he died, since neither one of us has the faintest idea what caused it.”
Jim pushed back his chair from the kitchen table, cutting off the interrogation. Rats. Just when we were getting somewhere. “If you two have clean-up under control, I’m going to use the computer for a while. And I’m going to bed early tonight. For some reason, I didn’t sleep too well last night.”
You could have fooled me. I was the one who didn’t sleep well. Still, I figured that finding a dead body can wreak havoc with sleep patterns, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
Three hours later, when I was lying in bed listening to Jim snoring, I realized I’d never told him about Mary Alice’s retirement announcement.
SIXTEEN
Q: What’s the best time to start thinking about your retirement?
A: Before your boss does.
Both Jim and Jenny left the house early the next morning, so I was on my own with no specific plans for the day. I sent up a silent prayer, asking that the day be less stressful than yesterday, and resolved not to turn on the television or read any newspapers all day. Instead, I went online to see if the Re-tirement Survival Center web page had changed since Rhodes’s death.
“Whoa! Take a look at this,” I said to the dogs. Have I mentioned before how computer literate they are? “The whole site has been reworked. How did Sheila do that so quickly?”
Lucy barked once, but clearly she didn’t have the answer any more than I did. Ethel curled herself into ball and went to sleep.
Instead of the picture of Davis Rhodes that had greeted me the first time I’d logged on, now there was a picture of both Rhodes and Sheila on the website’s home page. Although both of them were smiling, it was pretty clear from the body language and the way they were posed that Sheila was the dominant force in the twosome. Hmm. I had heard that photos could be manipulated on the computer somehow. Had that happened here?
There was also a new icon on the home page which read: “Click Here for Details of Davis Rhodes Memorial Service.”
Another tap of the computer mouse and I was reading a sanitized synopsis of Rhodes’s tragic death (home page’s words, not mine), a quote from Sheila concerning the future of the Re-tirement Survival Center which translated to “The show must go on, and it’ll be even better with me in charge,” and an additional statement from her that a service to honor The Great Man’s memory would be held one week from today at two o’clock at the Center.
Sheila’s statement continued: “This will be a public tribute to Dr. Rhodes, an opportunity for the countless people whose lives he touched to honor him. According to his wishes, there will be no funeral. Anyone interested in participating in the ceremony
is asked to email a brief paragraph summarizing their tribute by this Friday. All tributes will be posted on the Center’s web page, and a limited number will be chosen to be read at the service.”
“According to his wishes?” I repeated to Lucy. “I doubt that he left Sheila instructions about this.” Somehow I couldn’t imagine Rhodes taking time out from his clients—to say nothing of his cookie baking—to outline his wishes in the event of his untimely death. The whole thing sounded like a marketing ploy from Sheila to get big publicity for the Center. And herself.
Ohmygod. I suddenly realized that Jim would probably be involved in this memorial service. I wondered if Sheila had already asked him to help organize it. She was wasting no time taking control of the Center, which made her look pretty suspicious to me. I wondered if the police agreed.
Then I mentally scolded myself. You seem to be the only one who’s worried about appearances, Carol. If Jim’s not concerned about working with Sheila, why should you be?
Because I’m the only one around here with basic common sense? No, that was too harsh.
Because I always see the dark side of every situation? Maybe.
Because I worry so much about everything that goes wrong that Jim doesn’t have to?
Yes, that was it. I thought back to when the kids were younger and one of them was late coming home from a party. Who waited up in the dark living room, straining for the sound of a car turning into the driveway?
Not him.
Who made desperate bargains with the Lord? “I swear I’ll be more patient, understanding, clean the bathrooms with a smile on my face, whatever You want, if You’ll just this once bring my child home safely. And soon. Please, please, please.”
That was also me, of course.
All during these crises, where was Jim? He was in bed, doing one of the things he does best—sleeping.
Suddenly, I resented all the sleepless nights I had gone through. I resented being the one who’d willingly shouldered the burden of worry for the entire family for years. I wasn’t going to do it this time. No siree. I was turning over a new leaf.