“I think you should reconsider your position on the autopsy.” Chris showed her to a bench seat in the hallway. “Here, sit.”
On one hand, Kassie was relieved Chris wasn’t going to chastise her; on the other, she couldn’t have predicted Chris would have any skin in the game regarding the autopsy decision.
But he did. And she listened.
Ten minutes later they returned hand in hand to the relatives’ room. The doctor lit up when he realized Kassie had changed her mind. She’d make the coroner happy. Not the reaction she was going for, but whatever.
She did it for Chris.
42
Words Matter
For a brief moment, Cecilia, Chris, and Kassie stared at each other as the administrator and the doctor hustled off to do whatever they needed to do to complete Mike’s last visit to Boston Clinic and ship him off to Kelly and Colombo’s. Kassie would give them a call once they were finished talking with—and consoling—Cecilia.
Of all people, Cecilia had shed the most tears so far that day. She’d appeared to have pulled herself together when Kassie returned from the ladies’ room earlier, but it seemed the autopsy talk set her off again. Poor kid.
They played musical chairs. Chris pulled up a side chair, signaling Cecilia to move onto the couch next to Kassie.
“What a shock, Mrs. Ricci. We had such a good talk yesterday. I was so sure when I came in this morning, I’d have found he’d be released today.”
Kassie placed her arm around Cecilia’s shoulders, giving her a maternal squeeze.
“He was such a nice man. Kind. Helpful. Funny.” Cecilia’s faucet flowed steadily.
Bad Kassie opened her mouth to say something like “If you knew him like I did, you might not ascribe those adjectives to him,” but she shut it before even one pejorative word slipped between her gums. No reason to burst this young lady’s bubble. Kassie was struck at how a logophile, like Cecilia, was able to express her emotions concisely when it really mattered.
“Mr. Ricci inspired me to take my writing to another—” Cecilia’s whimpering picked up steam, if that was even possible.
“Here.” Attempting to distract, Chris spoke up. “Let’s see what’s in this bag, shall we? Make sure we’ve got everything.”
His ploy worked. Cecilia emptied the bag one item at a time. It contained what you’d expect. She refolded the tan pants and dark blue shirt he’d worn on Monday neatly on the table. Kassie reached in and handled his striped boxers so Cecilia wouldn’t have to. Chris did the manly chore of removing Mike’s deck shoes. He handed Kassie Mike’s Rolex that someone had tucked inside one of his shoes.
Nostalgically, Kassie held the watch in her hand, then glanced at Cecilia, who had started to shred the dampened tissues in her lap. “Take this, Cecilia. Mike would’ve wanted you to have it. You gave him joy. You know that, don’t you?” She touched Cecilia’s arm.
Just in time, Chris retrieved a tissue box from the far side of the room and placed it within Cecilia’s reach.
“Is that all there is in the bag?” Kassie directed her question to Chris. Cecilia was of no use at the moment.
“Looks like it. Why?”
“Is this what you’re looking for?”
Chris and Kassie whipped their heads up and toward the door. They’d been so consumed with comforting Cecilia, they neither saw nor heard Karen enter the room.
“What are you doing here?” Chris and Kassie stood, shocked.
Cecilia continued to sniffle, unfazed by the electric spark Karen’s arrival set off.
“I asked if this is what you’re looking for?” Karen approached Kassie, invading her space and dangling Mike’s wedding ring in front of her eyes.
“Where’d you get that?” Kassie asked.
“Aren’t you the lucky one? We were on the beach in the Cape. After he got down on one knee and begged me to marry him, he took it off. I stopped him from flinging it into the pond.”
As she snatched the ring and blasted out of the room, Kassie said, “It’s on the Cape and it’s an ocean, you stupid slut.”
43
Cecilia’s Back
“Is it something I said? I just thought she’d want to have his ring,” Karen said, standing with her hands on her hips. “I have no use for it now, except to hock it.”
Cecilia gasped. “You’ll have to forgive Mrs. Ricci, who is as forlorn as any lady would be who just lost her beloved husband of thirty years. The source of her utterances is a mournful, broken heart.”
Praise be. Cecilia was back in rare form. She’d have made Mike as proud as a papa watching his daughter walk across the stage to accept her diploma at college graduation.
She continued, “May I ask who you are to come into this sanctified room, where this grieving family ventured into a wretched process of arranging a proper send-off for someone they’ll miss from now until eternity?”
You go, girl. Chris thought calling this a sanctified room was a bit hyperbolic, but nevertheless he liked her style. If Cecilia had started in first gear, she’d shifted into third in a heartbeat. Wishing Kassie was there to witness this smackdown, he chewed the inside of his cheek, gearing up for Karen’s reaction.
“Excuse me? And who are you?”
And we’re off. Let the games begin.
“I asked you first.”
“Um. I was Mr. Ricci’s fiancée, if it’s any of your business. I’m Karen—”
“Karen? The surly, ill-bred strumpet? Mr. Ricci told me all about you.”
“Okay, ladies,” Chris said, “I think we’re finished here. Except—” He sat next to Cecilia, keyed in her phone number, and lifted her by the elbow.
“You wait here,” he said to Karen as he escorted Cecilia to the door, where they shared a hug and solemn kisses on the cheek.
“Surly, ill-bred strumpet? Jack Benny?” Chris whispered.
“Jack who? No. William. William Shakespeare.” And Cecilia was outta there.
Chris returned to find Karen situated on the couch, staring at the floor. He had no intention of an extended conversation with her at that moment. He’d make this quick. He had more important things to do.
Standing behind the side chair, his fists clutching its back, he got her attention the best way he knew how.
“Karen. What the hell are you doing here? This is the relatives’ room. You shouldn’t have come.”
She lifted her head and tilted it to the right. “Do you think I can get my kidney back?”
Chris couldn’t believe his ears. “Where’s your dignity? Have you no sense of decency?”
“I’m just kidding, Chris. Can’t you take a joke?”
He lifted the chair and bopped it against the floor. “Were you kidding when you fucked Charlie Monday?” he whispered through clenched teeth.
“Who knows about that?”
“Then it’s true. Kassie thought—hoped—Mike was mistaken.”
“Who knows besides Kassie and you and, oh, probably that tart, Amelia?”
“And Cecilia. You heard her.”
“Oh, her. She’s nothing.”
“Nothing? Really? Mike didn’t think she was nothing.”
Karen shrugged off Chris. “Sarah. Do you think he told Sarah?” She was up and pacing the room, chewing her thumb. “Of course not. He didn’t have time,” she mumbled to her favorite audience—herself.
“And what if she knows?” He turned his body toward her.
Karen stopped three feet from him. He detected a familiar fragrance—Kassie’s. Like everything else she’d stolen. Was there anything genuine about this woman who wanted him to renounce Sarah as his mother?
“Charlie will handle her. He always has, he always will,” Karen said.
Unsure of what she meant by that remark, he filed it for later, switching gears until such time as he’d be able to give it a good think.
“Whatever. I need to ask you a favor.”
“What’s that, my son?”
Chris glared, his nostr
ils flaring. Don’t go there. Wrong time.
“The funeral. We’ll be planning it later today.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Could you please keep a low profile over the next week? This is Kassie’s time. Mike was her husband, not yours.”
“We were going to be married. He made promises. I saved his life.”
“Stop right there.” He grabbed her arms, the first time he’d ever touched her. “It’s about time you get this straight. Kassie saved him. She loved him enough to find you in order to find his son. And when it was me, she loved us both enough to give up a chance for her own happiness.” He let Karen go, forcing her to fall back two steps.
“So, that’s what you think? You bastard.”
“You’re right. That’s what I would’ve been if it wasn’t for Sarah.”
44
Whose House Is It Anyway?
Kassie had a choice to make as she entered the hospital’s cafeteria. Did she sit in the same exact seat she had occupied on Good Friday a year ago? It was vacant, available, waiting. Or should she break out of her comfort zone and try something new? She chuckled. If only that were the most critical decision she’d have to make that day and in the days to come.
Surprise, surprise. Kassie bought a cup of green mango tea, not her usual English breakfast, and slid into a cozy booth on the opposite side of the cafeteria than she was accustomed to. Two for two.
Baby steps. Baby? Don’t go there.
The gold of Mike’s wedding ring she’d slid onto the middle finger of her right hand next to her wedding band caught her eye. She wiggled the ring off her finger and twirled it, catching it before it skidded off the table. Karen’s story about Mike wanting to toss it into the ocean nagged at her. Was it true? She’d never know for sure now that he was gone. Didn’t matter. She’d bury the ring, and all the sorrowful and happy times they’d had together, with him. Let the past be the past; her future was now.
“Ahem.”
Kassie raised her sight to Chris, greeting her with a bouquet of red roses.
“Wow. The first of many this week, I imagine.”
“But these are for you, KO, not Mike.”
“Aren’t you afraid your allergies will flare up?”
“Nope.” Chris handed her the flowers and scurried off, ostensibly to get coffee. He returned with a wide grin and a tray piled full of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and croissants and divided the feast between them.
“So, how did it go?” Kassie said with flakes of a croissant dangling from her mouth.
“It’s done. Let’s see what happens.” Chris wiped his mouth, motioning for her to do the same. “You should’ve heard Cecilia. She gave Karen the what for. Can understand why Mike took a shine to her. There’s more between the ears than she lets on.”
Their phones buzzed at the same time. Word was getting out about Mike’s death. They raised their eyebrows, shook their heads, and declined the calls.
Between bites, Kassie filled him in on the calls she’d made while waiting for him. Tom had no issue, of course, with her taking another week off to handle the funeral and Mike’s affairs. No, she didn’t discuss either her ownership of Ricci and Son or Paris with Tom. Wrong time, wrong place. She waved her fork in the air.
Annie and Vicki were lined up to organize the reception at Mike’s house after the funeral, whenever that ended up being.
“You’ll have to stop calling it that.”
“Calling what?”
“Mike’s house. It’s your house now.”
Kassie let that thought settle. With her primary focus on handling Mike’s remains, she hadn’t considered his personal assets yet, especially the assets they still shared as a married couple. The house for one. A big one.
“Should we move in there? And out of your place in Charlestown? I seem to recall yesterday—was it just yesterday?” Kassie put her head in her hands. “Weren’t we talking about getting a bigger place?”
“Well, it is bigger. I’ll give you that.”
“And Topher would be comfortable there. He knows it like the back of his . . . paw.” They shared a much-needed laugh as Kassie shook her paws in the air.
“Which reminds me.” Kassie scrolled through her phone to find Teresa’s number. She assumed Teresa still cleaned on Fridays, which meant she’d be there again tomorrow. Recalling that Teresa and Amelia had come to Mike’s rescue on Monday, Kassie needed to get in touch with her asap to tell her about Mike. Wouldn’t be polite to have her clean a dead man’s house without knowing it.
“Maybe Teresa and her daughter would give Annie and Vicki a hand during the reception at the house. My house. Our house?”
Chris gave her a thumbs-up and continued chowing down. Kassie half expected he’d go back for seconds. But he didn’t.
He sat diligently, listening to her one-sided conversation with Teresa that surely grew more interesting once Kassie got past the I knows, I’m sorry toos, and the “Mike and I always appreciated what you . . . and your daughter . . . did for us.”
“You would do that? You think you could switch days? That would be awesome.”
“She’ll clean today,” Kassie mouthed to Chris. He gave a second thumbs-up.
“Jimmy, the locksmith?” Kassie tapped Chris on the hand. “OMG,” she mouthed.
“If you’re sure about that, go ahead.” Pause. “Yes, there’s a concierge at the apartment.” Pause. “Jimmy would do that? Thanks so much. Be sure to keep a set for yourself.”
Kassie planted her phone on the table.
“What was that all about? Jimmy, the locksmith?”
“Thank goodness for Teresa. I would’ve never thought of it. Not yet, anyway.”
She tore the second croissant in two, offering half to Chris. He declined with a slight wave indicating she could have it if she wanted it. Not as scrumptious as those she devoured in Paris, but it would do. She accepted his offer. Waistline be damned.
Kassie related Teresa’s suggestion, more like a recommendation, to Chris. In all her years as a cleaning lady, Teresa apparently witnessed shady goings-on when there was a death in the family. Not only do people come out of the woodwork to get a piece of the deceased’s estate, but the house becomes a target for thieves. She’d advised Kassie to be concerned about people who they’d given keys to in the past—painters, pet sitters, plumbers.
“Karen?” Chris asked.
“You win. You hit the bull’s eye. A Kewpie doll for you,” she replied. “It didn’t occur to me, but Teresa said Karen has already moved some of her stuff over there, and I know for a fact she has some of my stuff at her place in Charlestown—”
“Excuse me? What stuff of yours?”
“I’ll explain later. Anyway, what would stop her from dashing over there and helping herself to anything and everything she wanted? Or even damaging the place?”
“Hopefully that’s the last thing on her mind.”
“Frankly, I wouldn’t put anything past her. Nor should you, Chris.”
They finished what now would be considered brunch, dropped off their trays, and headed to the garage, both agreeing it was time to put Boston Clinic in the rearview mirror. Next stop, Kelly and Colombo Funeral Home in Newburyport.
On the way, Chris reminisced about the last time they’d made that drive. “Easter Sunday, wasn’t it?”
That was also the day—or night, to be exact—they’d discovered his freelance job was at Mike’s company. Boy, had they had their heads in the sand back then.
“Let’s make a commitment to each other. Right here, right now,” Kassie said.
“I’m game. What do you have in mind?”
“No secrets.”
“No secrets,” Chris said. “Pinky swear?”
“Pinky swear.”
45
Her Just Desserts
If she couldn’t get the sympathy she was entitled to from her son, Karen knew where to go to get it. Problem was the damn time difference between Boston and Chicago. It was t
oo early to have an intimate conversation with Charlie, as Sarah would still be lurking around their house. Karen knew she flitted off to one of her pompous museum trustee meetings at lunchtime most days, so she’d wait until the coast, and the air, was clear.
Where to in the meantime? She’d planned to go into the office that day before Kassie showed up on her doorstep and dropped the Mike-is-dead bomb. She could’ve shown a bit more compassion given the circumstances. What could Karen really expect? Kassie had shown her true colors when she served Mike divorce papers when his kidneys were failing. If it weren’t for Karen, he’d have been dead nearly a year already.
As a matter of habit, a bad habit, she headed toward the office. It was midmorning. Bill surely would’ve told everyone the news by then. Karen guessed she’d receive a kindhearted, sympathetic welcome in deference to Mike, if for no other reason.
What the hell? There was only one car in the Ricci and Son parking lot. Bill’s. She racked her brain. It wasn’t a national holiday. Where was the rest of the staff? An early lunch, perhaps?
The groan of the front door opening echoed through the vacant first floor. But with the absence of printers humming and keyboards clicking, an eerie quiet greeted Karen, rattling her nerves. She threw her purse on her desk with a thud, hoping to alert Bill she was in the building.
It worked.
“Oh, it’s you.” He stood in his office doorway. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here today.”
“Where the hell is everybody? There’s a business here to run. Clients to serve.” Karen thought if she showed she was calm, cool, and collected, she’d catch him off his game, and he’d forget the ticket incident.
“Chris and I agreed to let the staff decide whether they felt up to being here today.”
“A free day off?” She continued on pace. “What kind of a management decision was that? You really don’t think they’re home crying over Mike, do you?”
What’s Not True: A Novel Page 25
