performance was a put-on? Puck’s always been like Kokopelli, a trickster, he has the oddest sense of humor. My father indulged him way too much. But it’s hard to accomplish anything serious on the compound.”
“Was that why you moved?” As soon as the words slipped out, I was sorry. Far too personal a question to ask someone I had just met.
She shot a quick look at Dai, who glanced away, embarrassed. “We lived there for a while when we were first married. But when we had children, I wanted them to have a normal life.”
It wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. Had I gotten everything wrong? Maybe she was estranged from the family because she had left. Maybe the estrangement had nothing to do with her husband’s race.
“Don’t get me wrong, I had a fascinating life.”
“I’m sure.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to find my aunt.” Her eyes searched the crowd beyond us.
Should I tell her Gretchen wasn’t here or let her find out on her own? I decided it wasn’t up to me to say anything.
“She isn’t here,” Dai said quietly. “I looked.”
She turned on him. “What do you mean she’s not here? She has to be here! Where’s Bianca?”
She spun around, but Dai put his hands on her shoulders. “No scenes.”
“They aren’t going to get away with this!”
“Yes they are. We’ll sort it out later.”
“How? Someone needs to blow this family sky-high.”
“They will. But not you. Not tonight.”
C HAPTER E IGHTE EN
O N M ONDAY B IANCA was waiting for me on the parking gravel. She seemed to be headed to one of her committee meetings, beautifully dressed in suede slacks and a matching turtleneck in rich chestnut brown. A gold medallion encircled her neck. “Thanks for bringing Colin Saturday. It helped me get through the whole awful thing.”
“He enjoyed meeting you. The memorial was lovely.” It was the kind of thing I was expected to say and “lovely” was a word no one could argue with.
“Don’t expect much for lunch today. It will only be sandwiches.”
“That’s what most of the world eats.” When she didn’t respond, I added, “Gretchen has the day off?”
“No, she never came back! I mean she did , the car was here when we got home, but she never came down for breakfast yesterday. We think she must have gone to Regan’s.”
I remembered Regan’s frantic search for her at the memorial. Maybe she had visited the house before the family got home and spirited Gretchen away.
“She didn’t leave a note?”
“No. Sorry, I have to go.” She started toward an older tan Lexus.
“Did you call Regan to check?”
“And give her the satisfaction? You don’t get it, do you?”
Now she did walk away.
F OR THE FIRST time since I’d begun evaluating the books, the morning dragged. I sorted through the art theory and reference books Nate had amassed over the years. Most were common printings and not worth much. I bundled them into lots of three or four but still had to check their value.
The ham and cheese sandwiches that accompanied the deli macaroni salad had been assembled by Bessie, who pointed out firmly that cooking and serving were not what she’d been hired to do. Washing dishes wasn’t part of her job description either.
Nate Erikson was toasted, rather glumly, with tap water.
Eve was the one who spoke up. “What a bunch of sad sacks you are! I can’t believe that not one of you had the gumption to go into the kitchen and prepare a proper meal. Bessie’s right. We need to make new arrangements. Until Gretchen comes back, you girls can take turns doing the shopping and cooking. The boys will do the clearing up and load the dishwasher. And what about you ?” She pointed at me and I wondered if I would be assigned table setting. “I want to see your artwork.”
My artwork? Then I remembered I was supposed to be illustrating Bianca’s book of children’s poetry. Be sure your sins will find you out. I’ve never been able to get away with a
“Was that why you moved?” As soon as the words slipped out, I was sorry. Far too personal a question to ask someone I had just met.
She shot a quick look at Dai, who glanced away, embarrassed. “We lived there for a while when we were first married. But when we had children, I wanted them to have a normal life.”
It wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. Had I gotten everything wrong? Maybe she was estranged from the family because she had left. Maybe the estrangement had nothing to do with her husband’s race.
“Don’t get me wrong, I had a fascinating life.”
“I’m sure.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to find my aunt.” Her eyes searched the crowd beyond us.
Should I tell her Gretchen wasn’t here or let her find out on her own? I decided it wasn’t up to me to say anything.
“She isn’t here,” Dai said quietly. “I looked.”
She turned on him. “What do you mean she’s not here? She has to be here! Where’s Bianca?”
She spun around, but Dai put his hands on her shoulders. “No scenes.”
“They aren’t going to get away with this!”
“Yes they are. We’ll sort it out later.”
“How? Someone needs to blow this family sky-high.”
“They will. But not you. Not tonight.”
C HAPTER E IGHTE EN
O N M ONDAY B IANCA was waiting for me on the parking gravel. She seemed to be headed to one of her committee meetings, beautifully dressed in suede slacks and a matching turtleneck in rich chestnut brown. A gold medallion encircled her neck. “Thanks for bringing Colin Saturday. It helped me get through the whole awful thing.”
“He enjoyed meeting you. The memorial was lovely.” It was the kind of thing I was expected to say and “lovely” was a word no one could argue with.
“Don’t expect much for lunch today. It will only be sandwiches.”
“That’s what most of the world eats.” When she didn’t respond, I added, “Gretchen has the day off?”
“No, she never came back! I mean she did , the car was here when we got home, but she never came down for breakfast yesterday. We think she must have gone to Regan’s.”
I remembered Regan’s frantic search for her at the memorial. Maybe she had visited the house before the family got home and spirited Gretchen away.
“She didn’t leave a note?”
“No. Sorry, I have to go.” She started toward an older tan Lexus.
“Did you call Regan to check?”
“And give her the satisfaction? You don’t get it, do you?”
Now she did walk away.
F OR THE FIRST time since I’d begun evaluating the books, the morning dragged. I sorted through the art theory and reference books Nate had amassed over the years. Most were common printings and not worth much. I bundled them into lots of three or four but still had to check their value.
The ham and cheese sandwiches that accompanied the deli macaroni salad had been assembled by Bessie, who pointed out firmly that cooking and serving were not what she’d been hired to do. Washing dishes wasn’t part of her job description either.
Nate Erikson was toasted, rather glumly, with tap water.
Eve was the one who spoke up. “What a bunch of sad sacks you are! I can’t believe that not one of you had the gumption to go into the kitchen and prepare a proper meal. Bessie’s right. We need to make new arrangements. Until Gretchen comes back, you girls can take turns doing the shopping and cooking. The boys will do the clearing up and load the dishwasher. And what about you ?” She pointed at me and I wondered if I would be assigned table setting. “I want to see your artwork.”
My artwork? Then I remembered I was supposed to be illustrating Bianca’s book of children’s poetry. Be sure your sins will find you out. I’ve never been able to get away with a
Similar Books
