the subject.
Tiny started to talk. All her excitement was back. I’d been worried about her. Nothing should dim her happiness about marrying Sal.
I listened to talk of flower arrangements and bands, reception halls and pictures. Tiny had been driving me crazy for weeks with her plans, but today, listening to my friend was soothing. Things would work out. I’d find out who killed Mr. Banning. I’d find those pictures. And I would wear whatever flouncy, pastel colored dress as I stood up for my best friend at her wedding.
Cassandra Yu only lived a couple blocks away from Tessa. She was thrilled that she won Mac’Cleaners spruce-up services, at least that’s what she said when I called first thing Thursday morning and made arrangements to come by that afternoon.
However, she didn’t look like a happy winner when I showed up.
“It’s the first good news I’ve had in a week,” she said as she opened the door and let me in.
Cassandra Yu looked awful. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face was splotchy. Her dark hair looked as if it might spring to life and start hissing at me in a Medusa head-of-snakes sort of way. She was wearing a pair of sweatpants that were sizes too big and a ratty flannel shirt over a stained t-shirt.
“Please come in,” she said.
Her house was neat as a pin other than the couch. It was piled with quilts and pillows. There was a tissue box and waste can next to it.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“It’s been a tough week.” She sniffed. “I lost someone—someone I loved. He loved me, too. We were talking about getting married.” She shook her head. “Sorry. That’s more than you needed to know.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” She looked at my cleaning kit. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. Why don’t you just relax? Your house is so neat, this won’t take me any time at all.”
She nodded and went back to the cocoon she’d built herself on the couch.
I was right, her house wasn’t just neat as a pin, it was obvious that she cleaned it thoroughly on a regular basis. I felt bad for her, so I threw in a few extra services like cleaning the windows of her small bungalow.
I hate cleaning windows.
When I’d finished, I asked, “Could I make something? Tea? A sandwich?”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m a mom. This is what I do,” I joked, hoping she’d relax and let me do something for her. I didn’t have to really talk to her to know that she wasn’t the one who’d killed Mr. Banning. She loved him. She was going to marry him—at least she thought they were going to marry. Whether or not they were didn’t matter. Whether he was the slime-ball I’d thought he was, or he was becoming a better man because of Cassandra didn’t matter. She was in pain. She was broken up because of his death.
And suddenly I didn’t see Mr. Banning as a dead client, or a blackmailer, or a louse of a father, or a cheating husband.
I saw him through Cassandra’s eyes, and he was someone who had been loved.
I guess that was enough of an epitaph for anyone.
“Please, let me do something.” I wanted to do something to soothe her.
She shot me a week smile. “You just cleaned my house.”
“Something more than that,” I insisted.
“A cup of tea would be nice.”
I went to her kitchen and made myself at home, making us both a cup. “I know it’s cheeky, but even though we don’t know each other, I think you could use someone to talk to. Tell me about the man you love.”
“Loved,” she said sadly. “He’s gone and…” She hiccupped and took a sip of her tea. “Steve wasn’t a saint. Don’t think I don’t know that about him. He was imperfect. He’d made some horrible decisions in the past and done things that hurt other people. But I loved him.
Tiny started to talk. All her excitement was back. I’d been worried about her. Nothing should dim her happiness about marrying Sal.
I listened to talk of flower arrangements and bands, reception halls and pictures. Tiny had been driving me crazy for weeks with her plans, but today, listening to my friend was soothing. Things would work out. I’d find out who killed Mr. Banning. I’d find those pictures. And I would wear whatever flouncy, pastel colored dress as I stood up for my best friend at her wedding.
Cassandra Yu only lived a couple blocks away from Tessa. She was thrilled that she won Mac’Cleaners spruce-up services, at least that’s what she said when I called first thing Thursday morning and made arrangements to come by that afternoon.
However, she didn’t look like a happy winner when I showed up.
“It’s the first good news I’ve had in a week,” she said as she opened the door and let me in.
Cassandra Yu looked awful. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face was splotchy. Her dark hair looked as if it might spring to life and start hissing at me in a Medusa head-of-snakes sort of way. She was wearing a pair of sweatpants that were sizes too big and a ratty flannel shirt over a stained t-shirt.
“Please come in,” she said.
Her house was neat as a pin other than the couch. It was piled with quilts and pillows. There was a tissue box and waste can next to it.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“It’s been a tough week.” She sniffed. “I lost someone—someone I loved. He loved me, too. We were talking about getting married.” She shook her head. “Sorry. That’s more than you needed to know.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” She looked at my cleaning kit. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. Why don’t you just relax? Your house is so neat, this won’t take me any time at all.”
She nodded and went back to the cocoon she’d built herself on the couch.
I was right, her house wasn’t just neat as a pin, it was obvious that she cleaned it thoroughly on a regular basis. I felt bad for her, so I threw in a few extra services like cleaning the windows of her small bungalow.
I hate cleaning windows.
When I’d finished, I asked, “Could I make something? Tea? A sandwich?”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m a mom. This is what I do,” I joked, hoping she’d relax and let me do something for her. I didn’t have to really talk to her to know that she wasn’t the one who’d killed Mr. Banning. She loved him. She was going to marry him—at least she thought they were going to marry. Whether or not they were didn’t matter. Whether he was the slime-ball I’d thought he was, or he was becoming a better man because of Cassandra didn’t matter. She was in pain. She was broken up because of his death.
And suddenly I didn’t see Mr. Banning as a dead client, or a blackmailer, or a louse of a father, or a cheating husband.
I saw him through Cassandra’s eyes, and he was someone who had been loved.
I guess that was enough of an epitaph for anyone.
“Please, let me do something.” I wanted to do something to soothe her.
She shot me a week smile. “You just cleaned my house.”
“Something more than that,” I insisted.
“A cup of tea would be nice.”
I went to her kitchen and made myself at home, making us both a cup. “I know it’s cheeky, but even though we don’t know each other, I think you could use someone to talk to. Tell me about the man you love.”
“Loved,” she said sadly. “He’s gone and…” She hiccupped and took a sip of her tea. “Steve wasn’t a saint. Don’t think I don’t know that about him. He was imperfect. He’d made some horrible decisions in the past and done things that hurt other people. But I loved him.
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