Who were you, Boots? she cried silently. What is it you want from me? What is it you think I can do and how can I do it? Why me? What does Lucie have to do with all this? Do those men downstairs have the answers? Tears rolled down Helen’s cheeks as she closed the door to Isabel Tyger a/k/a Boots’s room and walked back down the hall. She finally chose a room whose bedspread was adorned with colorful, quilted tulips. If she was going to stay for even a short time, this would be her room. She’d always loved tulips. What better reason did she need?
Helen sat down on a purple chair, the exact shade of the tulips on the bedspread. She kicked off her sneakers and yanked at her damp socks. She longed for a shower and toothbrush. She knew she didn’t dare sit too long, or she would fall asleep. So what if she put her dirty clothes back on. Who would care? Certainly not the two old men down in the kitchen. She was on her feet then, poking in the tiny closet and drawers. She blinked at the contents of the drawers. One set of everything from underwear to outerwear in small, medium, and large. The miniature closet held windbreakers, sweaters and tee shirts on padded hangers in small, medium, and large. On the floor were slippers, sandals, and sneakers ranging in size five through eight. Helen grabbed one of everything in medium before making her way to the bathroom.
Helen’s eyeballs snapped to attention the minute she entered the bathroom. She’d never seen a purple toilet seat, much less a purple toilet and vanity. Thick, thirsty, purple towels trimmed in white lace hung from white ceramic hooks. The shower was encased behind sliding Plexiglas doors with sprays of purple pansies painted on each panel.
The toilet tissue was thick and soft and the color of lavender. The cabinet underneath the vanity had an array of talcum powder, scented soaps as well as fragrant liquid soaps, three different kinds of toothpaste and mouthwash along with six toothbrushes still in their plastic bubbles. A blow dryer, curling iron, two combs, two hairbrushes, hand cream, face cream, night cream, and body lotion were lined up neatly. Four different brands of shampoo and conditioner sat next to the body lotions. All new. All unopened. The bottom shelf held a second set of purple towels and a new unopened package of the lavender toilet tissue as well as facial tissues.
“All the comforts of home,” Helen murmured.
Helen stripped down and stepped into the steamy shower, where she lathered up, rinsed, and then lathered up a second time. She washed her hair three times before she felt totally clean. She saw the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door when she stepped from the shower. She grinned when she stretched the belt to the toilet tissue to see if it was a match. It was. She couldn’t help but wonder who had color-coordinated this small space. Obviously some pricey decorator, or else Boots had a hidden talent.
The moment she was dressed she felt like a different person. She had her second wind and would be able to go for another few hours before exhaustion kicked in totally.
In the hallway, Helen stopped to look at the picture she’d given to Boots via Mona at the shelter. The frame, like the one on the ballerina, was rich and costly for such a simple picture. “I’m so sorry, Boots. I wish . . . I wish so many things.”
They were waiting for her at the kitchen table. They stared up at her expectantly. “I took a shower. There were clothes in one of the drawers. I hope it was all right to take them.”
“They’re yours. This house is yours. You can do whatever you wish. We made some sandwiches. I hope you like cheese. It’s all there was. Artie and I usually bring something when we come out here. If we had known ahead of time that you were coming, we would have stocked the refrigerator.”
“Cheese is fine. Ummm, this coffee is good. I love coffee.”
“So did Izz. She liked to dunk her cheese sandwiches in black coffee. We do it, too,” Artie said sheepishly.
Helen immediately dunked her sandwich. “Yes, I can see why you would like this. Did Julia Martin call ComStar, Mr. King? Has Sam been in touch with you?”
“No to both questions, Helen. Please, call me Arthur or Artie.”
“All right,” Helen said.
“How’s Lucie? I can’t tell you how often I’ve thought about you two. You really gave me a scare that night.”
“I am so grateful to you, Dr. Davis, for saving her life. I wanted to call you so many times to tell you how well she was doing. I couldn’t have gone on without that little dog. Most people would never understand something like that.”
“Izzie understood only too well. If you’re going to call him Artie, then you should call me Gerry. I want us all to be friends. We’re going to tell you about Isabel Tyger in the hope you will change your mind about accepting her estate. It’s not a very long story: In fact, it’s pitifully short. When we finish the story, we’re going to take you for a walk.”
Helen sat back in the kitchen chair. She listened, her eyes filling with tears from time to time. When Gerry finally got up from the table, he said, “She chose you. Of all the people in the world she could have chosen, she wanted you to carry on for her. Now do you see? Whatever mistakes she made were well-meaning. You owe her forgiveness. If we aren’t successful in giving you back your life on paper, I don’t think Mr. Tolliver will mind one little bit. He loves you, not your name. We won’t give up. We want you to be able to get divorced so you can marry Mr. Tolliver as much as you want it. You must be patient. Now, are you ready for the walk?”
“Daniel will find me here. There are no barricades, no fences. He can drive right up here and knock on the door or shoot the door down. I’m a sitting duck if I stay here.”
“Yes, that’s true. Artie suggested we hire some personal security for you until we can resolve this matter. Are you comfortable with that?”
“No. Daniel would never let rental cops stop him,” Helen snorted. “He found me, didn’t he?”
“We could fence in the immediate area in a matter of days. An electrified fence. Guard dogs patrolling the outside are an option as well as the security. It will at least give him pause for thought. The other alternative is to pay him off. You certainly have enough money to do that.”
“That’s not the answer. If I do that, this was all for nothing. The answer is no. He wants his share of this. The truth is, I think he wants it all. Somewhere along the way, the money aced me out. I don’t think he’s interested in me anymore since I’ve been with Sam. I don’t know this for a fact. Call it woman’s intuition. If something happens to me, he inherits my estate. People have accidents all the time.”
“We set up an appointment for tomorrow morning with your attorneys. The other thing Artie and I want you to think about is this. You are now a very rich lady. You could coax your mother to come forward and vouch for you. If she’s more interested in your money than she is in you, sad as it may be, the answer lies in your pocketbook. Once you are legally Helen Stanley, your husband doesn’t have a prayer of getting anything from you.”
“That’s what you think,” Helen muttered.
“Are we ready to take our walk, Helen?” Artie asked.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
Gerry reached into one of the kitchen cabinets. “It’s a ritual we observe,” he said, holding up a bottle of bourbon. “Izzie loved bourbon.”
“I prefer brandy,” Helen said.
Gerry turned around and opened the cabinet again and withdrew a bottle of plum brandy. He handed it to Helen. “We just swig from the bottle.”
“Sounds good to me,” Helen replied.
27
“So, Helen, what do you think?” Artie asked, slurring his words.
Helen tilted the brandy bottle and took a long pull. “What I think is that is the saddest story I ever heard. Your friend Isabel and my friend Boots must have been a very remarkable woman. You two,” she said, pointing the brandy bottle in the general direction of the two old men, “are just as remarkable. I can’t imagine a friendship enduring all these years. All these little graves. It breaks my heart. How did you manage to do this as often as you did?”
“We l
oved Izzie,” Gerry said simply. “Now do you understand what we meant when we said she chose you because of Lucie?”
“Yes.”
“So, will you take over now?” Artie peered over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like a wise old owl to Helen.
“How can you ask me something like that when I’ve had half this bottle of brandy? I can’t think straight. My heart feels sore. I’m all choked-up, and my vision is blurry. I can’t make a decision like that in this condition.”
“We need to know,” Gerry said, taking a slug from the bourbon bottle. “Artie needs to know and by God, Izzie is up there wanting to know. Spit it out, girl. Tomorrow you’re going to have a hangover, and you won’t be able to think then either. You said you would do anything in the world for me for taking care of your dog,” he said craftily.
“I did say that. I remember saying that. I meant it, too,” Helen said smartly.
“This is the anything then. I want you to accept your inheritance. You can’t go back on your word or a promise.”
Helen took another swig from the brandy bottle. “That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it, Gerry.”
“See. We’re friends already. You’re calling me Gerry. Doesn’t matter what you meant. You said the words. Isn’t that right, Artie?”
The wise old owl nodded solemnly. “If you said the words, then it’s a done deal. That’s a load off our shoulders, isn’t it, Gerry?”
“Yep.”
“I have to think about Sam. I love Sam. I’m not giving up my life. Sam won’t . . . Sam doesn’t want me to be rich. He said he loved me even if I was rich, but he was stuck in a snowbank when he said that. My life will change. Sam’s life will change. I don’t want Sam to change. I want him just the way he is. He loves teaching kids. My life is full of . . . feathers ... and belly chains. I’m going to sell belly chains. I can make a fortune on the Internet. I don’t need all . . . this,” Helen said, waving her arms about.
Overhead a cluster of birds took wing. Helen looked upward and for one brief second she thought she saw Isabel Tyger perched at the top of the tallest tree. She sucked in her breath when the woman she’d known as Boots gave her a thumbs-up salute. Helen blinked, her jaw dropping as she looked at her two companions, who were staring at the same treetop. She almost lost it then when she saw them waving. This isn’t real. I’m hallucinating, and I’m drunk. She squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them. The vision was still there. Artie and Gerry were still waving, smiles on their faces.
Helen focused on the ten tiny graves in front of her. She looked upward again. Suddenly she was stone-cold sober when the vision atop the trees pointed in the direction of the graves. Clearly the vision was waiting for her response. Helen realized in the whole of her life she’d never been this frightened, this exhilarated. She thought of Lucie and how much she loved the little animal. As much as Boots must have loved the stray dog that had been her only friend. Boots never got a second chance. In the blink of an eye, the thumb of her right hand shot upward. The vision faded.
Helen turned her gaze to the two old men opposite her. Did they see what she’d just seen? Was she supposed to mention it? Were they waiting for her to say something? They were plastered, as Sam liked to say. Maybe she was dreaming and would wake up any second. She looked toward the ten graves. There seemed to be a glow around the markers, a strange, golden glow of some sort. Maybe she was just tired and jet lag was kicking in. Maybe a lot of things.
“I accept,” she said, firmly and clearly. She raised her finger. “Only if Sam agrees to . . .” Unable to help herself, she looked upward again. The vision was back on top of the tree. She knew instinctively no conditions were permitted. She cleared her throat. “I accept. I will do my best to do what Boots wanted me to do. I will not give up my life or my own dreams. That’s as good as you’re going to get.”
“We accept your decision,” the wise old owl said solemnly. “So does she,” he said, pointing upward.
“Then I guess we have a done deal,” Helen said. “You’ll have to tell me what it is I’m supposed to do in regard to . . . these,” she said, dropping to her knees by the biggest stone in the row.
“Just come here. Clear the weeds. Sing. Pray. Think. Remember. Someday you might need to . . . I can’t think of a better resting place for a beloved animal,” Gerry said.
“You mean Lucie and Max?” Helen asked in a choked voice.
Helen wrapped her arms around the largest marker and cried as she’d never cried in her life, deep heart-wrenching sobs that tore at her body and left her limp and whimpering.
A long while later, Helen struggled to her feet. “Was this my initiation?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” both men said in unison.
“Did I pass?”
“We weren’t sure. But she was,” Artie said, pointing to the top of the tallest tree.
“Is that why you come here?”
“No. We come here because we want to. We’ve been doing it for more than sixty years. Old habits are hard to break. She visits once in a while. Most times when she’s ticked off about something or when things aren’t moving fast enough for her.” Gerry rolled his eyes to make his point.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Helen said.
“We don’t either.”
“We were drunk,” Helen said. “Apparitions, ghosts, spirits, smoke, fog, whatever, it’s all bunk.”
“Yes.”
“Then what did we see?”
“What we wanted to see,” Gerry said. “Izzie looked out for us all our lives. There’s no reason to believe just because she died that she would stop. She always did defy anything that even remotely resembled logic. We’d best be getting back so you can take a nap. You look tuckered out.”
“I think I just got my second wind. I’m so wired it would take three sleeping pills to put me to sleep. Let’s go back to the house and talk.”
“Now that sounds like a plan,” Artie said.
Gerry smacked his hands together. “We do make good plans. Your Mr. Tolliver has no faith in us. He called us old codgers and said he was going to strangle us.”
“He’s part of this deal.”
“And that’s the way it should be.”
“We need to talk about Daniel Ward before we do anything else. I do my best thinking while I’m cooking or baking. What do you say we hang out in the kitchen and get a head start on some of this?”
“Can you make good spaghetti?” Artie asked.
“Sam says it’s the best he’s ever eaten.” Helen grinned.
“Does Sam like Boston cream pie?” Gerry asked.
“Sam loves Boston cream pie.”
“So do we,” Artie said. “We’ll go to the market for you.”
“Now that sounds like a plan to me.” Helen laughed. “It’s a deal.”
Daniel Ward tapped furiously on his laptop. Within minutes, by using his mother’s Visa card, he would have a rental car, a set of clean clothes, and a hotel room. If he was lucky, she’d never notice the charges. If he was unlucky, she’d call him, warn him, and then press charges. The way he looked at it, the last bill had just gone out which would give him at least twenty-four days till the next billing cycle. Everything was arranged for pickup within the hour. He continued to tap into the computer. His mother certainly did keep a nice healthy balance in her checking account. He would deplete it shortly with a robust withdrawal. Six weeks before, when things were going from bad to worse, he’d gotten the brilliant idea to have duplicate cards made for his mother’s accounts. With his expertise it had been a simple matter, and no one was as yet the wiser. He cringed inwardly when he thought about what she would do or say when she found out he was everything she thought he was. He couldn’t think about that now. He had to think about his own survival.
When he thought about those rigs on I-95 that kept boxing him in on three sides while Helen got away, he became furious all over again. Only his knowing she would go to the Tyger ranch kept him going
.
He’d dumped the rental car he hadn’t paid for in Oklahoma and hitched a ride the rest of the way. Let them try and find him. You couldn’t get blood out of a stone. What was the worst thing they could do to him? Send him to counseling for credit-card overuse. Yeah, right. The ATM card might be a little more trouble. First they had to find him, and he didn’t plan on spending any length of time in one place if he could help it.
You are going to pay for this, Helen. So help me God, when I get my hands on you, you will beg me for mercy. I wish you knew how much I hate you. I’m going to tell you. I’m going to get right in your face and tell you, and then you won’t have a face left.
Daniel sat for a moment trying to compose his features. It wouldn’t do for him to look like anything other than a weary camper home from a long trip. It was his cover story for the way he looked—unkempt, unshaven, and weary. When he felt confident he had his emotions under control, he turned off the laptop, reminding himself that he would have to charge the battery soon.
Two hours later, Daniel parked his newly rented car in the lot of a Holiday Inn. He registered without a problem and proceeded to his room, where he shaved and showered before donning clean clothes. He was in the Crown Victoria in less than an hour, headed for the nearest steak house, where he ordered a two-pound T-bone steak, a loaded baked potato, salad, and a fifty-dollar bottle of wine. He consumed it all. He leaned back and lit a cigarette, daring the waitress to tell him to put it out. He smiled when he thought of how he’d tricked an old lady into calling the Tyger ranch, instructing her to ask for Jake Ramos. He’d told her his ears were blocked from the long cross-country plane ride, and she’d believed him. She’d said a nice lady answered the phone and said she must have the wrong number. She’d been so apologetic. He’d thanked her profusely and said he must have copied the numbers wrong. Helen was at the Tyger ranch, but then he’d known that’s where she would go. Why not? The place was hers now. His too. They were still married. Isabel Tyger, stupid bitch that she was, had screwed up. That screwup was going to net him half of her estate. Possibly all of it.
What You Wish For Page 30
