“Well, at least now she is spared the embarrassment of seeing Dr. Van Zandt and Laurel together,” Lacey said. She poured herself a diet soda in a short tumbler and added a couple of ice cubes before swirling the liquid around a few times. She watched the contents bounce against the ice and then took a long swig. Her unexpected silence caught my attention.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m fine. I just realized something, Scarlet. All those years ago, when my husband had his many affairs, I never thought I could ever forgive the women who betrayed me. To me, they were temptresses who seduced him. But when I was talking to Florence today, I was struck by the realization that it really does take two to tango. I wasted too many years being angry at him for the wrong reasons.”
“Wrong in what way?”
“I convinced myself those shameless hussies threw themselves at him, tempting a weak man, but I realized for the first time today that it was always his choice to have the affairs. I blamed the women for breaking up our marriage, but he was the real problem. He encouraged them. Hell, he even welcomed them into his bed.”
“It sounds like Florence really got to you, Lacey.”
“She did. Or rather, Reverend Hoskins’ sermon did. Maybe if we hadn’t gone to church this morning, I wouldn’t have made the effort to be compassionate. She fooled herself into believing that Thaddeus only stopped himself from having an affair with her out of respect for his wife. But the doctor really loved the woman he married. He never had any intention of having an affair with Ms. Vinson.”
“And that makes him a good guy?”
“It does. After years of feeling like I didn’t put enough effort into my marriage, even thinking that if I had paid a little more attention to the bastard, he wouldn’t have strayed, I realize now that it really didn’t matter what I did. My husband loved chasing and being chased more than he loved me. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but learn it I must.”
“That’s a pretty big serving of humble pie,” I pointed out, as I laid the top crust over the blueberries and began to crimp the edges. She smiled at my feeble attempt at humor.
“Yes and no. I wasted a lot of time trying to have the upper hand. I must confess I enjoyed having men chase me all these years. It turns out I don’t really have as much power over them as I imagined. In some ways, it’s almost a relief to know that several of them spent time with me because they genuinely liked me, not because I fooled them into it.”
“Funny how romance is never what we think it is,” I sighed, reaching over and patting her hand affectionately. “Just out of curiosity, was there ever anyone you thought was a keeper?”
She took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Gee, I wish you hadn’t asked me that question, Scarlet.”
“Sorry.”
“Oh, forget it. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go have a quick cry and a long bath, so I can pull myself together for the Scrabble tournament tonight.”
“Shoot!” I groaned, tapping my forehead. “I completely forgot about that. I have to call Myrtle and Willow to find a substitute, since Florence left.”
“We’re short a player?” It was the way she said that, with a slight excitement in her voice, that made me think she was going to skip that sob session.
“Do you know someone who might want to join us?”
“Perhaps. Yes, I just might,” she replied, more to herself than to me. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out she had a man in mind. “Any chance there’s an empty seat at the dinner table tonight?”
“Sure,” I smiled. “Just let me know by six, Lacey.”
“I will. Believe me, I will.”
“Oh,” said Jenny, coming into the kitchen as we finished our conversation. “How many places was I supposed to set for dinner? I only did eight.”
“Put another one on,” I smiled. “We can always take it off if we don’t need it.”
By the time my mother and Thaddeus returned from their day’s excursion, Bur had arrived, ready for dinner and Scrabble. Judging from the frown Lacey wore, I guessed that her plans had gone awry. Just before everyone sat down to eat, Jenny quietly removed the extra place setting, wisely keeping her tongue.
The Wilkies joined us for dinner, but begged off on game night, telling us they wanted to retire to their room, since they had an early flight to catch in the morning. Jen and I cleared the table, and once the dishwasher was loaded and the pots scrubbed, I cut the blueberry pie, topped each piece with vanilla bean ice cream, and carried the tray into the dining room. Jenny followed me with mugs of freshly brewed coffee.
“We’re short a fourth for one team, now that Florence is gone.” My brother was disappointed. “Should we call Myrtle and see if she wants to join us?”
“I already asked,” Lacey shrugged. “She’s going to the movies tonight with friends. And Willow’s doing an extra shift at the hospital. We’ll have to make do with seven.
“I have a date at eight o’clock,” Jenny piped up, “but I’ll play until then.”
“If we don’t eliminate you first, squirt.” Bur did his evil laugh as he shook the cloth bag filled with wooden Scrabble tiles. “Ha, ha, ha!”
“Like that will happen! Think fast!” She poked the bottom of the bag, catching Bur unaware and making him scramble to keep his grip on it.
“Time to choose up teams,” Laurel announced. “Bur, grab that pad of paper.”
Thaddeus tore a sheet of yellow-lined paper into seven pieces. We each wrote our names on the tiny slips of paper, folded them, and deposited them into a bowl on the dining room table. Kenny was in charge of picking four to form the first team.
“Laurel, Scarlet, Thaddeus, Lacey -- you’re in the living room,” he announced. “Jen, Bur -- we’re in the dining room.”
At that moment, the doorbell rang, sending the dogs scrambling down the hallway in their mad dash for the door. I stood up, more than a little surprised. Was I just still jittery from the earlier events of the day?
“Who could that be at this time of night?” my mother wondered aloud. “Are we expecting anyone?”
“Not to my knowledge. I’ll go see who it is.” I left the guests at the table and headed down the hall to answer the front door. January was still yapping up a storm. I shooed her away and took a peek through the sidelight. Under the overhead glow from the porch lantern stood a silver-haired stranger. I turned the knob, opened the door, and greeted him.
“May I help you?” I smiled, thinking the man was lost and in need of directions. Was he looking for Karin Frendlind’s party house?
“Hi.” He seemed hesitant, gazing down at the three pooches with the wagging tails. In his hands was a New York Yankees cap. “I’m Bob Morelli. I’m looking for Lacey Googins. Is she here?”
Lacey Googins? For a moment, I thought I misheard him. Why did he call her by her maiden name? Who was this mystery man?
“As a matter of fact, she is.” I stepped back, inviting him inside. “She’s in the dining room. Please follow me.”
“Maybe I should wait here.” He seemed apprehensive, his fingers fiddling with his baseball cap.
“Of course. Have a seat.” I paused as he eased himself into the chair beside the console table, wondering if I should leave him on his own. Bob seemed to have a trustworthy face
She was reaching for a packet of Splenda when I entered the dining room. “Lacey, you have a visitor. He’s in the foyer.”
“I do? Who is it?”
“Bob Morelli.”
“Bob is here? Right now?” Her hands automatically went to her hair. She fluffed up her short curls. Then she licked her lips and seemed to realize she had no lipstick on. “Oh, tell him I’ll be right there. Where is my purse? Do I look okay?”
Judging from the obvious signs that Lacey was flustered, I knew Bob was someone special. Why he was such a secret? “Would you like me to invite him to join us?”
“Ah...yes, please.”
A few moments la
ter, I returned with the mystery guest. All eyes were on us the moment we stepped into the room.
“Bob, you changed your mind!” When Lacey came through the door of the butler’s pantry, there was a perky smile on her face. I noticed she wore fresh lipstick that looked suspiciously like Laurel’s favorite shade. “How wonderful it is to see you!”
“Well, er...my plans changed and I thought I’d stop by to say hello.”
“I’m so glad you did. Come and meet everyone. We’re having blueberry pie and coffee. Scarlet, do you mind?”
Chapter Seven --
Suddenly, Lacey became the gracious hostess, relegating me to the role of waitress. I wasn’t the only one taken aback. There were several open-mouthed, wide-eyed people sitting around that table.
Jenny joined me a moment later in the kitchen, her curiosity growing. “What is going on?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted to my teenage assistant. “He called her Lacey Googins. Maybe he’s an old flame from high school.”
“Did they even have high school back when she was young?”
“Aren’t you hilarious,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Would you mind grabbing the ice cream from the freezer?”
“My pleasure.” She reached into and retrieved the carton, placed it on the island countertop, and gave me a quizzical look. “Is that all he’s getting, Miz Scarlet?”
“No, I’m putting ice cream on it.”
“I know, but doesn’t he strike you as a pie guy?”
“A pie guy?”
“He looks like he enjoys a big slice, not some skinny little piece.”
“I’ll tell you what. We’ll also bring the rest of the pie out there, and people can help themselves to seconds. Will that work for you?”
“It’s not me you should worry about. Lacey’s hot for this guy, and you don’t want to blow it for her, do you? She nearly had a conniption fit when you went to fetch him, until she found out your mother stashes a spare tube of lipstick in the catch-all drawer in the kitchen.”
“Ah, that explains it,” I laughed, shaking my head. I carried in Bob’s plate of pie à la mode and a mug of steaming coffee, which I placed in front of him. The Wilkies put their napkins on the table and rose from their seats, ready to bid us goodnight.
“Thank you so much for the lovely dinner,” Diana said politely. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Worman and Mr. Morelli.”
“And you,” Bob said, his pie-loaded fork just inches from his hungry mouth.
Kenny started to rise, but Dave Wilkie stopped him. “No, no. Don’t get up. Enjoy your evening.”
As he took his wife’s arm and escorted her from the dining room, Jenny set the pie plate down on the table, within convenient reach of Lacey’s hands.
“More pie!” said clueless Bur, enthusiastically reaching for it. “Perfect.”
“Thaddeus, would you care for another slice?” Laurel asked.
“Just a tiny one,” he nudged his plate forward, “if there’s enough.”
“Of course there is. Bur, please do the honors.” There was no misunderstanding the pecking order at the table as Laurel passed the good doctor’s plate to my brother.
“At your service, dear mother.” He made a big deal out of slicing the pie, exaggerating every movement like some repressed Victorian manservant. Lacey pointed out that Bur was far more Bertie Wooster than Jeeves and an informal poll of dinner guests at the table agreed with that conclusion. By the time the last cut was made, there was a single narrow wedge remaining, and according to Jenny, it had Bob’s name written all over it. She made no bones about warning my brother not to even think of grabbing a third piece.
Another round of coffee, this time with a dollop of Bailey’s Irish Cream in each cup, brought us to the end of the meal.
“Now we have another player for Scrabble,” Laurel announced. “That is, if you’re interested in joining us, Bob.”
“Oh, I’m not that good,” he insisted, placing his fork on his plate and pushing his chair away from the table. “I haven’t played in years.”
“In that case, you’re welcome at our table,” said Bur genially.
I caught the look my mother and her cousin exchanged. This was not how they wanted things to go. I stepped in to rescue Bob.
“Lacey, why don’t you and Mr. Morelli play with Laurel and Dr. Van Zandt? That way, Mr. Worman, Jenny, and I can babysit this guy.”
“That’s not necessary, sister dear. I am, after all, the smartest man at the Scrabble table. Mark my words, you shall concede victory to me within the hour,” Bur informed us with an impish grin. “And then you will have to acknowledge my superior mind.”
“I don’t think so,” Jenny declared, pointing at my brother. “Last time we played, you made up words, Colonel.”
“I what?”
“Too true, Poup. If wishes were horses, you’d be riding a champ. Alas, you’re stuck with Old Bessie and your nag’s stuck in the chute without a prayer,” I teased. “Hence the need to cheat.”
“Fine, I will play by the rules and only use real words this time.”
“That means you’ll be looking up words on your Smartphone. ‘C...a...t...cat. Oh, oh! I’ve got six points! D...o...g...dog. Hooray! Another five points for me!’ What happens if you get the letter q?” she wondered. “This game of ours could take a while.”
“Very funny, squirt,” Bur retorted, wagging a finger in her direction. “Just for that, I’m going to whip the smirk right off that perky, little face of yours!”
“Like that will happen.”
Lacey rose from her seat, her enthusiasm returning. “Shall we silver-haired wonders adjourn to the living room and leave the kiddies to their game?”
“We shall,” my mother smiled, backing up her wheelchair as she prepared to exit the dining room. “Try to keep the noise down to a dull roar, children. We don’t want the neighbors to complain.”
“Not to mention the Wilkies in the White Oak Room,” I reminded everyone. “They have an early morning flight.”
At quarter after eight, just as we were close to finishing our second game, Jenny’s cell phone buzzed. “Oh, there’s my date now! He’s in the driveway. I’ve got to go.”
“Hold on, hold on,” Bur instructed her. “Who is this young man and what do we know about him? You can’t expect us to just let you go off with Jack the Ripper.”
“Bur!” The teenager groaned, impatient with the unexpected intrusion into her personal life. “He’s hardly some kind of monster.”
“So you say. But what do you really know about this young man?”
“Poup, let the kid go,” I interceded. “She’s an adult.”
“Hold on, Miz Scarlet,” said Kenny, his hand on my arm. “Bur has a point. If the young man has honorable intentions towards our little girl, he won’t mind coming in to meet the family.”
“What?”
“Jenny, why don’t you invite your boyfriend in to say hello?” he suggested.
“But....” the teen started to protest.
“Just in case you go missing, we’d like to be able to give the cops a decent description of the suspect,” Kenny smiled pleasantly. “Humor us.”
“Humor what?” I was aghast. What were these two up to? Much to my surprise, Jenny shrugged and headed out to retrieve the new boyfriend. “Are you two bonkers?”
“Hardly,” said my divorced brother, father of a grown son. “I want her to know that we are looking out for her and, if there is anything wrong, she has two strapping men watching her back.”
“Holy cow!” I sat back in my seat. “What’s next? A curfew?”
“Not a curfew, Miz Scarlet. But after the day we’ve had, she certainly needs to be home at a reasonable hour, so that the security of the inn is not compromised. Don’t forget the broken pane of glass on the sun porch,” Kenny reminded me. Suddenly their concerns had more merit. It was true that Jenny had been worried she was the target of the intruder. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing for Bur an
d Kenny to make a public show of their concern for her. The teenager had grown up without a father. Was that why she was so willing to fetch the young man for her adopted family to meet?
“Here he is,” Jenny announced, strolling in with a skinny, long-haired, six-footer, wearing a Team USA FIFA World Cup shirt. “Say hi, Hammerhead.”
“Hi,” nodded the young man. “What’s up?”
“Hammerhead? What exactly is that short for?” my brother inquired, giving the boy a steely-eyed going over.
“Short for?” Jenny looked to me for help, but I was curious too. How does a teenage boy get a moniker like that? He seemed to be rather ordinary-looking. Was he a great swimmer, a beach boy who loved to surf, or a predator who liked to take advantage of teenage girls?
“Michael Sharkey,” he replied. That simple introduction put a quick end to the mystery.
“Nice to meet you,” said Kenny, standing up and reaching out to shake his hand, even as the teenager seemed apprehensive. “How do you two know each other?”
“UCONN.” The brief answers seemed to indicate this young man was not a Tolstoy or Dickens in the making.
Jenny fidgeted beside the lanky youth. She sounded like any normal teen facing the Grand Inquisition.
“We met at the bookstore. He’s from New Hampshire, like me. His parents own a real estate company on the seacoast. He’s never been convicted of a crime, he gets good grades, and he’s working at the country club as a groundskeeper this summer. Can we go now or do you want his Social Security number first?”
Miz Scarlet and the Bewildered Bridegroom Page 6
