“Stacy?”
“You know, the girl that crashes funerals?”
“Oh yeah,” I laughed. How could I have forgotten about her?
“As long as you don’t hook up with the guests, you should be good to go.” Tabitha clicked her tongue in her mouth and winked at me.
8
Gran and Harold were just sitting down to lunch when I was leaving Sanchez’s. She texted me to say they’d meet me back at the house in about an hour or so. On our way out, I promised Tabitha I would think about auditioning for Into the Woods, and if I did, maybe we could go together.
“I’m holding you to that!” Tabitha said before getting behind the wheel of her new model, white Volkswagen Beetle.
“Just remember that I said I’d think about it." But even I knew enough of Tabitha now to know she would hound me until I went to the audition. Oh well, guess I better read up on the parts.
On my way home, I swung by the local grocery chain to pick up the fixings for that home-cooked meal I promised Gran. If my memory served me right, Gran’s favorite supper was roast beef and mashed potatoes. I thought I would jazz it up a bit and toss some garlic in those potatoes, roast fresh carrots, and bake yeast rolls. I would have made the rolls from scratch, but there wasn’t enough time to mix the dough and wait for it to rise. Nothing worse than sad, flat dinner rolls. I decided a compromise was in order in the form of frozen dough.
I was steering my cart down the frozen food section when I heard Greta at the pharmacy counter. Her distinct accent and elevated tone made her hard to ignore. Well that, and I was pretty sure she was dropping words in German here and there. I looked down the row of vitamins at the end of the frozen food aisle in time to see Greta toss up her hands in frustration. For his part, the pharmacist didn’t look all that apologetic. Greta took her purse and shuffled down the counter to organize the papers in her hands. She took a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes. It just broke my heart. Perhaps there was something I could do to help.
I approached her from the side and touched her arm to get her attention, making her jump.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just overheard a bit. Sounds like all of us are having a bad day."
Greta shook her head. "Insurance. They make everything so hard. They raised my prices and now they won’t fill my prescription. I can’t keep up with it anymore. They are not nice. My nerves, I tell you." Greta was visibly shaken and upset. She used the tissue to blot her face once more.
"Do you want me to talk to them? See if I can help in some way?"
Greta waved my concerns away but shot the pharmacist a nasty look over her shoulder. “No, no. There is nothing you can do. They are calling my doctor.”
I felt awful for Greta. Wait until she found out that her son was decked in the face at a campaign stop today. I decided to keep that little bit of information to myself.
“Listen, I’m going to be making a nice roast for dinner tonight. Would you like to join us?" I motioned to the ingredients in the cart.
Greta seemed surprised by the invitation. “Mabel is out of the hospital?"
"Yes, she and Harold are actually having lunch right now."
Greta scowled, but quickly recovered. “She shouldn't be doing that, she should be at home resting.”
"Well, I'll leave you to tell her that." I laughed. Greta and I both knew you didn't tell Gran what she could and couldn't do. That was surely the quickest way to tick her off.
"Dinner will be ready around seven and they’ll be plenty. Why don’t you walk on down?”
“Perhaps I could bring dessert.”
“You don’t have to. Seriously, I don’t want you troubling yourself.”
“No, no. I like to bake. Plus, you haven’t tried my black forest cake yet. It’s a favorite of your grandmother’s.”
“Okay, if you insist. I’d love to try it.”
Greta did come over to Gran’s at seven o’clock, but it was just to drop off the cake.
“I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well.” She touched the side of her head with her fingertips. “But I wanted you to have this.” She handed me the most delicious-looking cake I’d ever seen in my life. Picture layers of chocolate cake covered in fluffy-white frosting, decorated with curls of rich chocolate, whip cream and cherries. Yeah, I had never eaten anything that looked nearly as divine let alone make anything that came close.
“Here, come in for a moment. At least let me give you some food to go.” I held the door open.
“No, I really must get back home. Daniel is there. His day was not so good. He’s making us some soup.”
Greta sneezed, and I immediately thought of Sheriff Evans and his cold. I wondered if Greta had caught it and that’s why she was at the pharmacy today. She sneezed again, and I took a step back. I did not want to catch whatever was going around. I also didn’t ask for details or push the issue, as I knew firsthand just how bad of a day Daniel had had. One of those punches had to have left a mark. That man who had clocked him was seriously unhinged.
“Well, maybe next time you can stay. Give us a call if you need anything and thank you for the cake. It looks amazing.”
“Don’t worry, I washed my hands.” Greta was now pulling a tissue out of her khakis.
“Good to know and thanks again.”
Greta insisted that it was no problem and then was on her way. As she walked back down the driveway, another guest arrived. It was Hazel, and I was shocked to see Jake was with her. Part of the reason I had been able to focus and make dinner in the first place was because I was certain that Jake wouldn’t show. Seeing him drive up in Hazel’s Buick had me doing a double-take. I bit my bottom lip and couldn’t decide if I should stand in the doorway and wait to open the door for them or go hide out in the kitchen, pretending to check on dinner. I debated too long. By the time I decided to make a run for it, it was too late. If I walked away now, I would just seem rude.
I met them at the door as graciously as possible. Hazel had put together a relish tray, the kind with pickles, black olives, pearl onions, and spiced apple rings. I took the crystal tray from Hazel and stepped back for them to enter the living room. Harold and Gran were sitting on the couch, and Harold had made her a gin and tonic. The two had spent the afternoon, or the day really, just chatting away. I was convinced they would spend the night much the same. For the most part, Harold doted on Gran, and she was equally smitten with him.
“You look good dear,” Hazel walked over, squeezed Gran’s hand, and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. I walked the relishes through to the kitchen, refusing to look Jake in the eye.
“Would you like a drink?” My question was directed to Hazel. She and Gran were already gabbing, and she didn’t hear me. Jake joined me in the kitchen.
“I’ll get it.” I knew he was talking to me even if he didn’t look at me. The negativity rolling off Jake made my nerves spike. If he was still so angry with me, why did even bother to come?
“Maven is it?”
“Yes. Maven Mackenzie.”
“Well, at least both Megan and Maven start with an M.”
I bit back a retort and instead told him off in my head. I did not go to the trouble of making a delicious meal to have Jake’s bad attitude ruin it. Jake must’ve sensed the mutual hostility as he took the drinks and walked back into the living room, choosing a dining room chair to sit in rather than the recliner.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. I leaned back from the kitchen counter, where I stood getting ready to drain the potatoes, to see who it could be. No one else had been invited that I knew of.
“Gwen, we didn’t think you’d be able to make it.” Only Gran could be that polite to a woman suspected of murder and possibly more.
"Yes, I finished up just a little bit ago." Gwen still stood in the doorway. She wore white Capri pants and a navy blue and white striped sweater. They were the same clothes that we had seen her arrested in earlier this morning. She clutched the l
eather strap of her handbag on her shoulder and looked around at everyone, unsure of herself.
It was a good thing I was in the kitchen and Gwen hadn't seen my face. I'm not exactly sure what expression I wore, but I doubted it was a smile. A grimace maybe. Thank goodness I could busy myself in the kitchen and just spy from there.
"I was headed over to see you Mom, but I saw your car parked out front. So I stopped here instead."
Awkward silence hung in the air.
It was Hazel who finally spoke. "Well, I don't suppose you'd come looking for me if you were guilty.” Hazel tapped nervously on her thigh with her pointer finger. She then pointed to the open recliner across from her. "Why don't you come and have a seat and tell us what's going been going on."
"Actually, I was hoping that I could just speak to you outside." Gwen shifted from one foot to the other. Like her hair, Gwen’s brown leather penny loafers didn't seem as shiny today as they usually were.
"Well, the way I see it, we’re all family here. Anything you have to say to me you can say to them. Besides, I don't have the energy to repeat everything you say."
One look at Gwen could tell you that she’d rather not do this in front of everyone, but Hazel wasn’t giving in. Gwen sighed, slipped off her penny loafers, and walked across the living room. She took a seat, resting her hand between her thighs with her feet touching one another as she sat on the edge of the chair.
I left the kitchen, making sure to turn all the burners off, and took up post against the dining room door frame. Gwen looked up and saw me but didn't comment. From here, I could see the look on Harold's face, and it wasn't very nice. I had a feeling that he wouldn’t have invited her in.
"First, I want you to know that I did not have anything to do with Roseanne's death. Or you, Mabel. Sheriff Evans told me what happened last night, and I'm truly sorry. I was dealing with my own crisis at that time, and believe me, I would never want to hurt you or wish you any harm."
"I never thought you would, dear, but you have to admit the circumstances are suspicious." Gran had a point and Gwen knew it.
She swallowed dryly. "The thing is ..." Gwen looked up at the ceiling and struggled to blink back her tears. Then she blew out a breath and shook her head. "It's dumb, really. Compared to everything else that’s going on, this is just one more thing, but I just couldn't take it.” Gwen paused. “I was fired yesterday."
"Well, what in the world for?" Hazel stared at her daughter in confusion. Knowing Gwen, she would have been the most punctual employee ever. I couldn't imagine an employer ever firing her.
"New vision for the company, wanting to make the brand fresh and bring in new talent." Gwen punctuated the air with quotation marks. "A company that I built up. I made it what it is today—one of the most recognizable women's fashion lines. My marketing did that, and now just like that,” Gwen snapped her fingers, “I’m out the door. Where is the loyalty, I ask you? People don't care anymore. Why did I put in all those hours? Miss all of Jake’s school concerts, Boy Scout meetings, and heaven only knows what else. Why? What was the point of it all if they just dismissed me on a whim?” Gwen stood, really ranting now. “I deserve better. I gave them the best years of my career. There was a time when I could’ve worked for any designer. They all came at me, the offers, several a week. But I turned them down. I was loyal. Where did it get me? Unemployed and unmarketable. Trust me. I know this industry, and I’m done.” That was the most I had ever seen Gwen get worked up before. Even when she had been arguing with Roseanne, she didn't show as much passion.
Gwen must have realized that she was standing now and everyone the living room was watching her. She sat back down and regained her composure. “So yes, the job, my marriage, Roseanne. I'm just tired of it all. I've made so many bad decisions and I don't even want to deal with any of it right now. I just wanted to get away, clear my head, and come up with a new game plan."
"And the insurance policy?" No one else in the room questioned Hazel as to what she was talking about, so I assume they all knew that Gwen had taken out the policy on Roseanne.
"That stupid policy. That's what got me arrested. If I would've ever known that was going to happen, I swear I wouldn't have ever taken it out. Once again, another bad decision. Are you seeing a theme here?” Gwen asked dryly. “I thought I was being financially smart. Roseanne was such a train wreck, heaven help me for saying that, but we all knew she was. I knew how much you supported her, Mom. I also thought about what was going to happen after you were gone. Who was going to be the one to pick up her messes and help support her? I’ll tell you who … me. I knew sooner or later her life was going to catch up to her and I was going to have to pay. On paper it sounded like a smart decision, and even though she was ticked off at me, Roseanne agreed. Once the police heard the entire story and verified the paperwork, I was free to go. And last night, like I said, I was at work until nine o'clock, cleaning out my desk and getting all my belongings together.” Gwen hung her head for second. “No way was I going to go back there and face my employees the next morning. My pride just couldn’t handle that,” she said when she looked up. “So now, I’ve come to you, Mom, to apologize, and to you all, and you too, Jake.” Gwen held up her hand to prevent anyone from speaking. “I’m sorry I’ve had my priorities skewed for the past few years.”
“More like decades.” Jake spoke under his breath, but since I was standing behind him, I clearly heard him. Gwen did not. She continued to apologize and promised to do a better job of being a decent human being. Personally, I was putting the odds at fifty-fifty. I had to give Gwen credit for apologizing, but I feared her old ways would return once she re-established her career or her intentions were caught up elsewhere. It was just her personality. I was pretty sure everyone in the room agreed with me.
The oven timer went off to signal it was time for the roast to come out. I turned and walked back into the kitchen.
The elders conspired against me and placed Jake and me next to one another for dinner. If they had thought the close proximity would lend to a reconciliation, they were mistaken. In fact, Jake refused to even acknowledge me, asking Harold, who sat to his right, to pass this or that, instead of me. It was as if I were invisible. Where his mother was pretending to be Ms. Manners, Jake was Mr. Rude. As the meal ticked by, I was getting more and more annoyed. What a way to ruin a good meal.
After supper, I went to the kitchen and started to clean up and put the leftovers away. Gran stood up to lend a hand.
"Don't even think about it," Hazel and I said in unison and then we laughed.
"I was just getting up to refill my drink," Gran said.
Baloney, I wanted to reply, but I let it go.
"Here, let me get that for you," Harold said, offering to give her a hand. If any of us would've tried the same thing, she would’ve shooed our hand away, but she happily took Harold’s and allowed him to lead her back into the living room.
"Just seltzer this time, with a little lime." Gran took her seat back on the couch while Harold fussed over her. Hazel followed me into the kitchen with a couple of plates.
"What would you like me to do? Put on the coffee?"
"No, you go have a seat. Honestly, the rest of us can pick this up. I'll put the coffee on shortly."
Gwen stacked the plates and brought them to me, but I worked on cleaning them off and loading the dishwasher. With the table clear, we worked together, wiping down counters, putting leftovers in storage containers, and wrapping up the remaining yeast rolls, which I was happy to report were as light and fluffy as frozen dough can be. Gwen made small talk, the type of polite chatter ladies tended to do when cleaning up the kitchen after a big family meal.
"That was wonderful. Thank you so much for letting me crash your dinner."
"Anytime. I would've extended the invite but …" I struggled for a moment for the right words. "But I didn't think you were available."
"Well, I'm glad I was, and it was lovely nonetheless."
I had
to admit it was unusual having Gwen be this polite to me. Perhaps she had turned over a new leaf. The jury would be out on that one for quite a while. The whole time we worked to right the kitchen, I was acutely aware that Jake still sat at the dining table. I could feel his eyes follow me about. At this point, I was pretty much sick and tired of his brooding. When I went to take the trash out back and he followed me, I didn't hold back.
"Are you about to spit it out, because I'm sick and tired of all your silent stares." I didn’t even look behind me. I walked straight forward and lifted the lid off the trashcan. After hefting the trash bag in and closing the lid, I turned and faced Jake. My hands were on my hips and boy, my patience was through. If he had expected a shy and timid woman, well then, he was mistaken.
"I just can't figure out how you can go about acting so smug while you stood there and lied to everyone's faces."
"You’re ridiculous. Can you not understand that I did the job I was paid to do?”
“That’s the way you see it?” Jake asked me.
“That’s the way it is. I was doing what Hazel hired me to do. So your uptight aunt and her snooty children couldn’t thumb their noses at Roseanne one last time. It’s not just Hazel. Your mother knew who I was too.”
“Oh, like that makes me feel better.”
“Listen up, I wanted to let you in on it, but Hazel asked me not to. She wanted to give you some comfort. That’s what professional mourners do.”
“There’s a name for what you do?” I wasn’t sure if Jake was impressed or offended.
“Of course there is, and the service we provide families is important.” I was feeling indignant now. “Think about it; we’re there to listen to your stories and provide comfort and closure. And we’re mighty good at it. Did you not feel better after talking with us?” I would have to thank Tabitha next time I saw her for running through the merits of funeral fakers.
“Us? There was more than one of you at the funeral?”
Mourning After Page 11