“Come on, let’s have dinner and save the inevitable and uncomfortable conversation about why you still can’t decide to come meet my family for later, much later.” Ian stood and held out his hand. I looked at the sun tattoo that was perfectly centered on the back of his hand.
I felt awful. At that moment, I wanted to tell him I’d go with him—go with him anywhere. I adored him and couldn’t believe I was risking the possibility of losing him, but I just couldn’t say yes yet. Borrowing a line from my parents, I needed it to “be real, be totally real” before I said yes.
“Ian . . .” I said as I took his hand.
“Nope, not now. Later.”
Though George’s eyesight was almost gone, his hearing was more acute than mine. He spoke from the kitchen. “Nonsense. Becca, life is short; enjoy it completely while you can. And love is rare.”
Ian smiled but shook his head and mouthed, “Later.”
We ate dinner, laughed at George’s stories about his adventures when courting his wife, who was engaged to another man when they met. George was bound and determined to marry her, no matter that he would have to break into her father’s house, steal her fiancé’s car, and beg her sister to lie to the entire family just so he could spend some time alone with the woman of his dreams and convince her that he was the man for her. His escapades landed him in jail for two days, but when he was released, Marylou was waiting for him. They eloped and enjoyed fifty-six years of marital bliss, and eventually Marylou’s family welcomed them both back into the fold. The jilted fiancé held a grudge all his life.
The evening ended with what George called one of his “nuggets.”
“True love is hard to find, Becca. Don’t be one of those fools who can’t see it right in front of their eyes. Hang on tight to the good stuff.”
Fifteen
“How’s the temperature?” the young girl asked. She was seated on a very small stool facing me. She reminded me of Pippi Longstocking, with two bright red braids, though they didn’t stick straight out from her head.
I dipped my feet into the swirling warm water and said, “Great. Perfect, actually.”
There was a method to entering a salon and moving toward the pedicure chairs/feet tubs. I was able to take my shoes off discreetly, sit and turn in the chair, and then submerge my feet without feeling like they were on display. No one gawked, not even Sally. No one pointed or rolled their eyes. I watched my pedicurist’s face for some sign of distaste, and when I didn’t see anything unusual, I realized I was being too paranoid about the whole thing. I decided to relax and enjoy the fabulous sensation of the warm water pulsing and swirling around my feet.
“Would you like a cocktail, Becca?” Sally asked from the chair next to me. Her pedicurist, dark and exotic, was named Orchid.
“No, thanks,” I replied. It was not too long after nine in the morning, and I didn’t want to insult her by pointing that out.
“Fine. Yes, Orchid, I’d like a Bloody Mary, please.”
A cloak of sadness hung over Sally. She wasn’t attempting to hide her feelings or make anyone think she was ready to be over her aunt’s death. Her face was puffy and her eyes were red. Though those things could have been because she’d been drinking, I suspected there hadn’t been many moments since Madeline’s death when she hadn’t been crying.
Of course, I felt terrible for her loss, but the way she wore her emotions so boldly also made me uncomfortable, and I remained aware that even though she was emotional, she still might have had something to do with Madeline’s death. I couldn’t buy into her tears without remaining on my almost pretty toes.
Pippi—actually, her name was Hallie—tapped on one of my ankles. I looked at her, wide-eyed. A wave of recognition passed over her face. She realized I’d never done this before. Suddenly, she became the master and I became the student; she liked it that way and so did I. She held my ankle and lifted my right foot onto a ledge above the bath. I decided to trust her.
“How are you doing, Sally?” I asked.
“Oh, I guess I have good moments and bad moments,” she said, her drawl even thicker than before. “Who’m I kiddin’? All my moments are pretty bad right now.”
“I’m so sorry. You must have been close to Madeline.”
Hallie was working the outer regions of my nails, clipping at them with miniature garden shears. So far, so good on the pain level, but I noted that she was awfully close to potentially drawing blood. I tried not to tense up.
“Darlin’, I was closer than close,” Sally said as she took the Bloody Mary from Orchid. “Aunt Madeline took care of me, Mid, and Shawn when there was no one else to take care of us. Our mamma was a piece of work, if you’ll pardon the expression—she was an S.L.U.T. Instead of caring for her kids, she spent her time carousing and chasing men. Aunt Madeline had no patience for her. We spent more time with Auntie than with our own mamma.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that about your mom. It was good that you had Madeline.”
“Probably saved our lives, or gave us lives. Who knows how we’d have turned out if Auntie hadn’t intervened to raise us with some sort of respectability?”
“She’s the reason you went into banking, right?”
Sally swallowed a sip of her drink and then snorted. “She’s the reason I did everything. And I should probably tell you now, I’m not quite at the level Madeline is . . . was. I’m just a teller, Becca.”
“I couldn’t be a teller, Sally. I don’t think there’s any ‘just’ about it.” It was the truth. I knew my limitations, and working indoors was one thing I hoped I’d never have to do. Plus, numbers weren’t my strong suit.
“Thank you, dear.” Sally smiled crookedly at me and then put her head against the chair. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
I didn’t want her to fall asleep quite yet, so I said, “What about Shawn and Mid?”
“What about them?” She rolled her neck and looked at me again.
Hallie was beginning to file my nails, which hurt more than the garden shears had. It felt like the edge of the file was slicing into the skin under the nail. I tried not to wince.
“Did they feel as much love for your aunt as you did?”
Sally seemed to think about it a minute before answering. “Weeell, yes, but she had to work for their love. Theirs wasn’t as automatic and grateful as mine was.”
My eyebrows rose. I couldn’t imagine Madeline working for anyone’s love. From what I knew, she didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of her, just as long as she got to make the decisions.
“What do you mean?”
“They were more affected by our mother than I was. I don’t know, maybe it was a girl/boy thing. I could see what a loser she was, and they just wanted to defend her. I think they resented Auntie’s intervening in our lives. Over the years, Shawn and Mid were challenges to her, but she always figured out some way to get them in line—get them to behave or get them to listen to her.”
“What methods did she use?”
Sally looked at the ceiling. “I wouldn’t say that Madeline was ever one to give the soft sell to anything. At times she was harsh with them to the point it became clear that without her, we might not have a roof over our heads or food on our table. I’m the oldest, but they’re only one and two years younger than me. Shawn’s the baby. I remember when we were teenagers and one time when they were being particularly mouthy, Auntie took their plates of food away and kicked them out of her house, telling them they had to figure out how to make it home on their own—in the middle of a horrible rainstorm.”
“Hmm,” I said. I didn’t want to pass judgment.
“Yes, it was mean, but she made her point. They hitchhiked home and found our mother with yet another man in her bedroom. It was very ugly.” Sally shook her head. “Goodness, that was so long ago, and I don’t like talking about it. Besides, it all turned out okay. Auntie eventually gave them the family business, after all.”
“The dairy?” I didn’t know that Madeline h
ad had anything to do with the Loder diary.
“Yes, she gave them the Loder Dairy about ten years ago.”
“How did the rest of the family feel about that?”
“Good question. It was interesting. I think there was some resentment—did Shawn and Mid deserve such a gift? Eventually, I think we all came to the conclusion that she did it to make up for how horribly they’d been treated by our mother. I wouldn’t have wanted to run the dairy, so I was okay with it.”
“How did Alan feel about it?”
“If I remember correctly, he thought Madeline’s desire was to be worshipped, and Shawn and Mid didn’t worship her correctly. He thought it was her way of manipulating their feelings.”
“Ouch,” I said, and I wasn’t talking about Hallie’s abuses.
“Believe it or not, Alan might have been right, though that’s not something I want to admit. I love my brothers, and I loved Madeline more than anyone, but we were all set up to have some less-than-desirable family dynamics.”
“Madeline wanted to be worshipped?” My toes curled involuntarily. Hallie straightened them with great skill.
Sally huffed again. “Probably, but it was something you rolled with, you know? Madeline was Madeline. If you loved her, you also worshipped her. You never corrected her, you never pointed out her faults, and you always put yourself in second place.”
“Your brothers didn’t want to worship her?”
“No. They not only didn’t want to, they didn’t know how. They didn’t know how to go with the flow. Instead, they’d get their hackles up and be bothered and snotty. I tried to tell them how stupid they were being, but they just called me Little Madeline.” Sally laughed. “It was actually great fun to see their faces when Madeline told them what she was going to do about the dairy. They were so shocked and humbled. I loved it. I bet she did, too—Alan might have been right, that she gave them something so spectacular to humble them and make them realize she was worth being worshipped.”
“Twisted” was the word that came to my mind, but I didn’t say it out loud.
“Shall I use the blade?” Hallie asked as she held up an odd-looking implement. I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Let me see.” Sally sat forward as she peered at the bottom of one of my feet. “Not bad, Becca. I don’t see many calluses, but you should let Hallie go ahead and get rid of what you do have.”
I was so pleased that my feet were “not bad” that I nodded agreeably. Hallie held my ankle in the air and began to shave at the bottom of my foot. I saw little bits of skin fly and hit the floor. I wanted to yank my foot free and run out of the place, but I was getting far too much good stuff from Sally to give up now.
“Uh, okay. Anyway, Sally, did Shawn and Mid change once they had the dairy?”
“Totally. Watch out for that last toe, Orchid. Thanks. Yes, they changed totally. Shut up and got to work. The whole thing was a terrible strain on both their marriages, though. Their wives couldn’t be convinced to revere Madeline, no matter what she gave them.”
“I’ve been through a divorce or two myself. I know how difficult it can be.”
“Oh? Sorry to hear that. I’ve never had a steady beau of any sort. Maybe someday.” She smiled wearily and raised her half-drained glass.
I smiled and nodded. “What about Alan? He married?”
“Nope, never. He’s very private, so I don’t know if he has a girlfriend . . . or a boyfriend . . . or whatever. You know, we all thought that Drew would never marry. I have to tell you, I was worried about Linda and if she could take the pressure.”
“She could have,” I said, but I didn’t really know. I knew that if I had been in the same situation, I wouldn’t have kowtowed to Madeline, but Linda was much more affable and sweet than I was. Plus, she and Drew loved each other so much.
“I guess we’ll never know now,” Sally said quietly.
“Do you think Linda had something to do with Madeline’s murder?” I asked. I tried not to sound defensive, but some must have slipped through.
Sally smiled at me knowingly. Suddenly, I wondered if she was much wiser than I’d given her credit for. “I hope not.”
Hallie was now using a square block-type file on the bottom of my feet, and I wished for the blade to come back. The file both hurt and tickled. My legs involuntarily tried to twitch out of her hands, but she had a firm grip on the situation.
“It’s hard for me to believe that Alan didn’t want the dairy. What does he do, exactly?” I asked between clenched teeth.
“Trust me, he couldn’t have cared less about Shawn and Mid getting the dairy—he’s always been very happygo-lucky about life.” Sally laughed again and took a long swig of the Bloody Mary. “No one really knows what he does, though. It’s a mystery, but we all think that somehow Madeline made it so he’d never have to worry about money.”
“That’s interesting.” The sanding was over, and my leg muscles relaxed. Hallie rinsed my feet in the bath and then gently patted them dry.
“He’s my cousin, but I really don’t know him all that well. He was always with Drew when Shawn, Mid, and I were with Madeline. Alan’s parents weren’t psychotic, so he didn’t need Madeline as much as we did. He and Drew took piano lessons and Chinese lessons together.”
“Did it bother you that they got to do those sorts of things and the three of you didn’t?” Hallie had squirted some lotion up and down my calves and she’d begun massaging it in. For a moment I thought I might dump Ian and ask her to be my third spouse.
“Oh, no, we weren’t in any shape to practice anything. Madeline had to stay on top of us just to make sure we got through high school without damage to ourselves or anyone else.” Sally’s eyes teared up again, but she sniffed away the emotions this time.
From Sally’s perspective, Madeline sounded sometimes like a saint and other times like a manipulative horror. I was glad she hadn’t been a member of my family. Had Linda felt the same way?
“Sally, did Drew and Madeline get along?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Becca. They never argued in front of us, but I always wondered how much time they spent together when Drew got older. She never complained when he wanted to go into the military, though I know she wished for Harvard or Yale instead of Navy. Outwardly, she supported him in whatever decisions he made for himself, but I have to say I always wondered what was really going on.”
“What about Drew’s father?” Hallie’s fingers were digging deeper into my calf muscles, and I was beginning to turn into a puddle.
“Winston Forsyth? Well, he died when Drew was a baby. He left Madeline with some money, but most of what she had she either got from her family or made on her own. I don’t know much more about him than that. I heard once that he married her so he might get the dairy one day, but that’s probably all just old rumor and speculation. She never talked about him to me. She wasn’t the sentimental type, of course, and I don’t think she spent much time in the past. She was always looking forward—and moving forward, too.”
“How did Madeline get control of the dairy in the first place?”
“It was her parents’ business. They were the Loders. They left it to her in their will. My mother wasn’t going to get a dime from them, that was certain. Alan’s mother didn’t want anything from them. She’s still alive—Aunt Mary-Margaret—and I know Alan’s tracking her down to tell her about Madeline, but she’s off in New Zealand or somewhere with her husband, Alan’s dad, Jack. They’re wanderers and haven’t had close contact with the extended family for many years, but they stayed home with Alan until he was fully grown. There aren’t any issues there that I know of.” Sally was beginning to slur her words and keep her eyes closed longer. She was getting her calves and feet massaged too; and that, combined with the Bloody Mary, was relaxing her deeply.
I tried to imagine Madeline’s power over her entire family. It sounded as if there wasn’t one branch she hadn’t been in control of—well, maybe one, but that branch
had taken off to New Zealand. Was that what someone had to do to get out of Madeline’s grasp? Sally’s version of her family life wasn’t pretty, and yet it was still sugarcoated because she loved her aunt. I wondered about the reality and how the others truly felt, particularly Alan. He had been the dutiful nephew and a good friend to Drew, and Madeline gave the dairy to the obnoxious cousins. That had to be a blow, but I didn’t think Sally had seen it that way.
“What time did you get to Madeline’s on Friday?” I asked casually.
“Let me think,” she said. “I got there around four. Alan was already there, and then Shawn and Mid arrived. Drew and Linda came shortly after that. Then you and your boyfriend, who’s adorable, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I said, noting that Alan had been at the house before the rest of the guests. Had the cook, Levi, seen him arrive? “Sally, you seemed upset at the dinner. Were you?” I tried to keep my voice casual, but it probably sounded phony.
“Oh, shoot, yes, I suppose I was.”
“Do you mind if I ask why?”
“The last time I spoke to Madeline was the day before she was killed. I said something to the effect that she should be happy that Drew had found someone wonderful to marry, no matter how quickly the wedding was to take place. She didn’t like what I said. I thought maybe she was missing the dinner because she was mad at me. I didn’t want her to be mad at me.”
“Oh.” I peered at Sally, who seemed about to fall into a deep sleep. I wondered if she might actually feel a sense of freedom now that her all-powerful aunt was dead. Even though she was sad Madeline was gone, I thought that a new world might open up for her now that she didn’t have to worship someone and live by that someone’s rules.
And that applied to Drew and his other cousins, too. But did one of them want that freedom so much that he or she killed for it? I had no idea.
I decided it was time to succumb to the sheer pleasure of Hallie’s calf and foot massage. I put my head back on the chair and thought more about what Sally had said.
When she woke, she wasn’t in the mood to talk further. I left the salon with lots more information about Madeline’s family, massaged calves and feet, and pretty pink nails.
Fruit of All Evil Page 12
