“Considering the amount of people you two probably know here, it will take a while to walk to our table. Let’s get started,” Vince suggested, “or we’ll never have dinner.”
“He thinks about his stomach a lot,” Roz joked.
“In all the years I lived with him, Mom couldn’t keep up with his appetite and stock enough food in the fridge,” Caprice teased.
“Don’t give me that,” Vince said. “You and Nikki used to raid the refrigerator at midnight too. You both had healthy appetites.”
Caprice knew she could eat all the low-fat yogurt and celery in the world and it wouldn’t erase the curves from her hips or thighs. That was hereditary. But swimming did help keep her fit and a little more trim than she used to be. Walks with Lady helped too. She had to admit she liked food as much as Vince did, and exercise was a way to prevent pounds from settling in the wrong places.
Vince had been right about the residents she and Grant knew in Kismet who stopped them to talk as they walked through the dining room on the way to their table. They passed a baby grand where a pianist was playing dinner music, but in a corner on the other side of the room, a DJ was setting up for later.
“A DJ instead of a band,” Caprice said. “That’s unusual for the Country Squire.”
“Everybody’s cutting back expenses,” Vince decided. “A DJ’s probably cheaper. Besides, he can pull anything from a playlist. It’s more practical too.”
Her practical brother. She wondered if he’d made a decision about the house yet. If he had, he hadn’t told her.
After they’d gone through the buffet line and waved to Nikki, who was headed toward the kitchen, they settled at the table with two other couples. Caprice was pleased to see one of her tablemates was Judy Clapsaddle, who owned the Nail Yard, a manicure business located near Vince’s office downtown. She and her husband were dressed as gypsies. She introduced her husband, Tom, to everyone. He fiddled with the black bandana tied around his head and said to Caprice, “You’re the one who takes in stray animals.”
“I do now and then,” she responded, eager to dig into Nikki’s food. After a few moments of conversation, it was easy to see Tom was an animal lover, too, and the discussion turned to the care of cats and dogs. When Judy and Tom, Roz and Grant excused themselves to fill their plates with desserts, Caprice took the opportunity to nudge her brother, who was sitting next to her. “So what are you going to do about the house?” she asked him.
After a couple of beats, he said, “I’m still thinking about it.”
“Thinking or procrastinating?”
“It’s a big step, Caprice, and I don’t just mean buying the house.”
“You mean living together.”
“Yes.”
“But you asked her.”
“Yes, I did. But when I started looking at houses, I realized the full implication of it all. I could be setting foot into something long term I can’t easily pull my foot back out of.”
“Are you serious about Roz?”
“I am.”
And Caprice knew that was the problem. Her brother had never been serious about anyone. He’d dated lots of women, but he hadn’t been this captivated or fully emotionally involved. Now he knew he couldn’t play around with Roz’s heart. She’d been hurt in her marriage, and he wasn’t about to take the chance on hurting her again.
“If you’re worried about Roz, she’s stronger than she looks. As long as you’re honest with her about everything, you’ll both be okay.”
“That’s what a relationship’s all about, honesty?” He looked as if he really wanted to know.
“It’s a huge part of it. Honesty and trust go together. Don’t look at this as Mount Everest to climb, just think of it as one little hill at a time.”
A smile broke across Vince’s face. “Leave it up to you to put it in picturesque terms. I did go to the bank. I don’t think it will be any problem getting a loan.”
“So you have started the process for loan approval?”
“Yes, I have. So don’t worry, little sister. Your big brother is just fine. I’m just a little shell-shocked by the idea of all of it.”
She could understand this was a big step for Vince, and for Roz too.
Grant and Roz returned to the table then, dessert plates loaded with goodies that the couples could share. Suddenly, however, Roz reached around Vince and put her hand on Caprice’s arm.
“You said you wanted to meet Doris Wyatt, right?”
“Yes, I do.”
“She just disappeared into the ladies’ room. Do you want to go in?”
That was a rhetorical question if Caprice had ever heard one. She stood and whispered to Grant, “I’ll be right back.”
He gave her one of those warning looks. “Don’t get into trouble.”
“Not me.”
Then she joined Roz and they wove around three tables to the other wall and the ladies’ room. After they went inside, they were glad to see it was empty except for one woman standing at the mirror refreshing her lipstick. Her blond hair had obviously seen several years of touchups. It was cut in one of those haphazard, along-the-cheek with a short back styles. She was wearing a black sequin cocktail dress with a neckline a little too low and a hemline a little too high for her weight and height.
Roz unobtrusively checked the other stalls in the bathroom, then nodded to Caprice that they were empty. Doris was self-absorbed at the mirror and didn’t seem to notice them at all, not until Roz stepped up beside her at the sink next to hers.
“Hello, Doris, it’s good to see you again.”
Doris looked over at Roz and Caprice standing beside her. She gave a nod and then studied Caprice. “You’re that woman who’s been interviewed several times in the Kismet Crier, aren’t you? The one who rescues animals and solves murders.”
Caprice wondered if that was going to be her epitaph someday. What a morbid thought. “I do rescue strays, and I’ve been involved in a few murder investigations. Marianne Brisbane wrote the articles.”
Doris waved her hand as if that wasn’t important at all. She had something else more pressing on her mind. “Are you looking into Wendy Newcomb’s murder?”
Caprice supposed that was a logical leap. Or had Doris heard she was asking questions?
“I knew Wendy, and I’d like to see her killer brought to justice. She did such important work.”
Caprice’s words must have hit the wrong chord in Doris because the woman scowled, making her broad face absolutely unattractive, as unattractive as her next words.
“Wendy Newcomb was nothing but a meddler who should have minded her own business. I told the police as much. That woman stole my inheritance.”
Caprice intended to stay neutral and tried to keep a perspective on the whole matter. After all, how well did she know Wendy? She’d never even met Leona Wyatt. So it wouldn’t hurt for her to play along with the way Doris saw things, at least for the moment.
“I can understand how you might think that. You and your brother were your mother’s only blood relatives. But I’ve heard how important Wendy was in your mother’s life. Couldn’t you and your brother see how Wendy was insinuating herself into your mom’s day-to-day living?”
Doris brushed the hair that swayed along one cheek behind her ear. “We didn’t see it until it was too late. If we had known what was happening, we would have put a stop to it.”
Just what did that mean? Did that mean Doris and her brother would have taken their mom to her chemo appointments? Would they have sat by her and taken care of her when she was sick from those treatments? Or would they have just pushed Wendy out of their mother’s life and left her to handle her cancer alone?
Caprice’s family was close and that’s what she had known all her life. She believed that if Doris and her brother had been in touch with their mother often enough, they would have seen Leona’s friendship with Wendy developing. But she couldn’t say all that, not without gaining herself an enemy. And she tried not t
o make those.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Losing a mother has to be a life-changing event. I just can’t imagine it.” And she couldn’t.
“Thank you,” Doris said, looking a bit surprised, as if maybe many people hadn’t offered her their condolences. “My mother and I didn’t talk often, but she was a driving force in my life . . . and my brother’s. I just wish everyone could understand what a conniving witch Wendy Newcomb was. She wasn’t this person with a halo who saved the world. She could be harsh and manipulative, and I’m sure that’s why someone killed her.”
Could that someone have been Doris? Caprice wondered, exchanging a look with Roz. With that much vehemence behind her words and that much passion, it was entirely possible.
“Does your brother feel the same way?” Caprice asked.
“Absolutely he does. As far as we’re concerned, Sunrise Tomorrow doesn’t deserve a penny of our inheritance. But we’ve been told there’s nothing we can do about it. No grounds, they say. Too much risk to contest, our lawyer told us.”
At that moment, the door to the ladies’ room opened and two more women strode in.
Doris muttered, “I’d better get back out there. Scott and his wife will wonder what happened to me.” After she stomped from the ladies’ room, Caprice checked her own lipstick and said in a low voice to Roz, “I wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley.”
“I told you she was cold.”
“I don’t think cold quite covers it.”
After they’d both freshened up, they exited the ladies’ room. On the way back to the table, Roz said, “I forgot to tell you, Vince said he worked a corporate merger between Doris’s brother and his client. He said he’ll snag him if he can for you. And, by gosh, he’s done it. Look over there.”
Grant was nowhere to be seen for the moment, but Vince was talking to a tall, thin man in a dark suit and a red power tie. Beside him was a petite blonde who might have been in her mid-twenties. She was wearing a bright orange sheath with a black color-blocked hem.
As Caprice approached them, she saw that Scott Wyatt looked to be near fifty. The woman beside him was probably a quarter century younger. That was quite an age difference.
Vince saw Caprice coming and smiled. While Roz went to stand beside him, Vince said to Scott Wyatt, “You know Roz. And this is my sister Caprice. Caprice, Scott Wyatt and his wife, Darby. Scott and I did some business together about a year ago.”
Scott said wryly, “Yes, your brother wasn’t my lawyer, but maybe he should have been. He knows how to negotiate.”
Scott’s wife, Darby, smiled politely at Caprice, but then said, “I see an old friend over there. I’m going to go talk to her.”
But Scott didn’t seem to like that idea and he grabbed his wife’s arm. “You can talk to her later. We’re having a conversation here.”
Darby seemed cowed by his words, went still, and stayed put. Scott’s gaze swept over Caprice with one of those male looks that made her skin crawl.
“I understand you’re a celebrity in this town. You’ve made the paper a few times.”
Apparently everyone in Kismet read the Kismet Crier, page to page, top to bottom. She forced herself to be pleasant to this man whom she already didn’t like. She would love to get his wife alone and have a conversation with her.
Darby seemed to suddenly realize who Caprice was too. She said, “You’re a decorator, aren’t you?” She snapped her fingers. “Not a decorator, but a home stager.”
“Yes, I am.”
“She staged my house to sell,” Roz said, jumping into the conversation. “She’s good at what she does.”
“Do you still decorate houses? I’d love to redecorate our living room,” Darby said.
As if women having a conversation bored him, Scott muttered, “I see an old golfing buddy over there. Stay put,” he ordered his wife. “I’m going to ask him if he could hook up for a game this week.”
Apparently intuitive enough to figure out that Caprice would like to talk to Darby alone, Vince added, “And I see Grant’s talking to one of our clients. Roz, I’ll introduce you.”
After the others moved away, Caprice asked Darby, “What kind of décor do you have in mind?”
“I’m not sure. I just know I don’t like what Scott has there now, something his first wife picked out. It’s all dark and gloomy. I’d like to brighten up the room.”
Caprice opened her purse, realizing this wasn’t the place to talk to Darby. But a consultation in the woman’s own home might be. She always carried business cards and she took one out now and handed it to Scott Wyatt’s wife.
“Give me a call if you want to generate ideas, or if you want me to give the room a makeover. I mostly stage houses now, but I still enjoy redecorating.”
After a furtive look at where her husband was standing with his golfing buddy, Darby lowered her voice. “I will call you. Scott shouldn’t disapprove of bringing our living room up to date.”
Caprice realized Darby didn’t sound sure of that, didn’t sound sure of that at all. She was certain the young woman would check with her husband before she consulted with Caprice.
Just what sort of marriage did the couple have? Caprice thought about the kind of marriage she wanted. Yes, she’d consult with her husband. But she didn’t want to have to rely on his approval to make decisions. She wanted to make decisions on her own.
Caprice was on her way back to the table when Grant stepped up beside her and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Miss Bacall, may I have the pleasure of this dance?” he asked with a smile.
“Yes, you may,” she said in her best Lauren Bacall raspy-voiced imitation.
He laughed and led her to the dance floor that was set up in front of the DJ’s dais where other couples were already dancing. Then he took her into his arms easily, holding her in a ballroom position in sync with their character portrayal.
They’d been dancing a few minutes when Caprice asked him, “Do you believe married couples need to make all of their decisions together?”
“The important ones. Why are you asking?”
She nodded toward Scott and Darby, who were still mingling and talking with people. “Darby seems almost afraid of Scott, like she won’t make a move without his approval.”
“What kind of decision are we talking about?”
“A consultation about redecorating their living room.”
Grant shrugged. “It could be a matter of budget. She wants to consult with him first to see how much money she has to spend. Then again, she could get into your favorite bailiwick, asking him his favorite colors and the kind of chair he wants to sit in to watch TV.”
“I suppose that could be it. But it just seemed that she didn’t even want to talk to me without checking with him first. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
Grant studied her. “Each marriage is unique. My mom probably wouldn’t think about redecorating or a new color scheme unless she consulted with my father first, though she might have a side conference with a decorator to find out what her options were before taking it to my dad. What about your parents? What would your mom do?”
“My mom would probably bring home a selection of fabrics and wallpaper samples and paint colors, check off the ones she liked best, and then ask my dad what he liked. Then they’d compromise.”
“Exactly. Every couple’s unique. That doesn’t mean one does it the right way and one does it the wrong way.”
“No, I suppose not. But I just get this feeling about Scott Wyatt—”
Grant pulled her a little closer. “Do you really want to talk about Scott Wyatt tonight?”
When she gazed into Grant’s gray eyes, she forgot about the murder investigation and thought only of him. He seemed to be thinking about only her because he said, “I’m going to miss you this week when you’re in Baltimore.”
“You can watch me each night on TV.”
He squeezed her hand. “I like reality better than reality TV.”
“You can join me in Baltimore the last night.”
“The night when the results come in for the vote? You bet I’ll be there, because win or lose we can celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?”
Bending his head, he whispered, “Celebrate being together.”
For the time being, Baltimore, house decorating, and anything but the two of them seemed light-years away.
* * *
On Monday evening, Caprice stopped in at her parents’ house on her way to Baltimore. As she climbed the steps to the side porch, rounded the rope-type pillar supporting the porch roof, she thought about her van packed with everything she’d need for the week. Nikki was going to be staying at her house to pet-sit until the results were in from the model home competition and Caprice was back home.
When Caprice walked in the side door of her childhood home into the foyer, a cuckoo clock just ahead on the wall of the dining room cuckooed six times. She smiled, remembering that clock from her childhood.
Her mother called from the living room to the left of the foyer. “In here, honey.”
A burst of laughter came all the way through the dining room from the kitchen. A round of applause went up and then there was more male laughter.
Poker night.
Crossing to the sofa, Caprice unbuttoned her poncho. “Did you get the info I e-mailed you about the motel where I’ll be staying?”
“Sure did. You should be comfortable there.”
“I’m just hoping I can sleep. We have to stop work on the rooms every night by nine. So theoretically I should get some rest, especially since I won’t have to feed cats or walk a dog. They won’t wake me in the middle of the night either.”
“But you’ll miss them.”
“Yes, I will. And not only them. I’ll miss everybody here too.”
“You’ll only be gone four days. Think of it as a vacation from the De Lucas and everything in your ordinary life.”
“I can try and do that.”
“Most of all you’re going to miss Grant, aren’t you?”
“I am.” There wasn’t any more to say than that. “I can’t stay. I’m just going to go say good-bye to Dad and then stop in at Nana’s.”
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