Shadows on a Cape Cod Wedding

by Lea Wait

  Gussie waved at the woman, who then came forward. She and Gussie looked at each other for a moment. Then Gussie nodded and reached up her arms. Gussie rocked her for a moment as though she was a child, while Maggie and the younger woman watched.

  Then the two women broke apart. “Maggie, I’d like you to meet my friend, Cordelia West,” Gussie, said, gesturing toward the woman she’d hugged. “Cordelia, this is my dear friend, Maggie Summer, who’s visiting.”

  Cordelia smiled at Maggie and signed, “I’m pleased to meet you. You sign ASL.”

  “A little,” Maggie signed, and smiled. “I’m Maggie. I teach; some of my students use ASL.”

  Cordelia nodded, gesturing that Gussie and Maggie should come inside.

  She indicated a chair in the small living room where Maggie could sit, and then at the box the younger woman was still holding, and the back of the house. The younger woman nodded her head and left, presumably to take the cupcakes to the kitchen.

  “We’re so sorry about your cousin Dan’s death,” said Gussie. “Maggie, tell Cordelia.”

  “Gussie wants me to say we’re very sorry about your cousin’s death,” signed Maggie.

  “I thank you both,” signed Cordelia. “It’s a sad time.”

  Maggie paused a moment. “I should tell you. I was the person who found your cousin’s body on the beach yesterday.”

  Cordelia winced. “Thank you for calling the police. Chief Irons brought me a note last night to tell me. We’d been very worried. He’d been missing for two, almost three, days.”

  “We?” Maggie asked.

  “Diana.” Cordelia indicated the kitchen. “Dan’s daughter.”

  Gussie looked from one of them to the other. “What’s she saying, Maggie?”

  “She says the young woman who opened the door is Diana, Dan’s daughter.”

  “I didn’t know he had a daughter,” said Gussie. “Ask Cordelia if she’s been here long.”

  “Only about a week,” signed Cordelia. “She’s very confused and upset. If you could help her in some way?”

  The young lady in question returned, carrying a large tray of cookies, brownies, and the cupcakes Jim had bought at the bakery that morning. Clearly neighbors had started early bringing funeral food. She put the tray on the coffee table. “Would anyone like coffee or tea?”

  “No, thank you,” said Gussie. “But thank you for asking. Why don’t you sit and join us? Let me introduce myself officially. I’m Gussie White. I’m moving into a house a little ways down the beach. And this is Maggie Summer, my friend from New Jersey. Cordelia told us you’re Dan’s daughter.”

  “Except he wasn’t Dan then!” said Diana. Her tears started to flow. “None of this is right. None of it!”

  Gussie and Maggie exchanged looks.

  “What do you mean?” Gussie said.

  “It’s all been so hard! Cordelia’s trying to be kind, but she doesn’t understand anything I say. I thought Dad was dead, and then I found him again. Alive! And then a few days later he disappears, and now the police say he’s dead, again, and someone killed him! And he wasn’t even using his real name, and no one will tell me anything!”

  “Diana, I don’t know what’s happening. I’m not even from Wins­low. I’m guessing you’re from Colorado, right?” Maggie spoke ­directly to Diana. She felt as though she was back on campus. So many times she’d sat with young people who were close to hysterical about minor issues. Diana’s problems were clearly larger ones.

  Diana looked confused. “How did you know I was from Colorado?”

  “I saw your car outside. The license plates.”

  “Oh, yeah. That. Not a big secret, I guess. Yeah, I’m from Colorado Springs. Grew up there, and was going to college there, until Dad was killed in a car accident. At least I thought he was killed.”

  “What made you look for him here?” asked Gussie.

  “I wasn’t looking for him. I was taking a vacation. I’d decided to sell our house, to help with tuition and all the bills after Dad died. Or after I thought he’d died. So I was cleaning. I found old pictures of Mom and Dad when they were first married. They lived here then. They looked so young! Happy. Dad was so skinny. And his hair was so long!” She smiled a little. “Not the way I remembered him. When he’d died, when I thought he’d died, in Colorado, he was a lot heavier. He had a pot belly, and he’d lost most of his hair. Anyway, I decided to get away. Travel. Dad always said I had no family left, but they’d come from Cape Cod and Martha’s Vineyard. I decided to visit where it all started, where my family began. So I came here.”

  “And?” said Maggie.

  “I found Winslow, and I even found the house where we used to live when I was a baby. This house. I got up my courage and decided to ask the current owner if I could look inside. And Dad answered the door.” Diana looked from Gussie to Maggie and back. “It freaked me out. For a few minutes I thought it was someone else; someone who looked like him. He’d lost the pot belly, but he’d shaved the hair on his head and grown a beard. He really looked different. Then I thought I was seeing a ghost. Maybe I was going crazy. Or I was in a time warp; I’d gone back in time to when Dad lived here.” Diana shook her head. “It’s hard to explain. My head was exploding with crazy ideas. I guess he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.”

  “Did he explain why he was here? Why he hadn’t told you he was still alive?”

  “At first he was really upset I was here. Then he told me he wasn’t Roger Hopkins anymore. He was Dan Jeffrey. And he introduced me to Cordelia. He told me I could stay a few days, but that was all. Then I had to leave, and forget I’d seen him. I shouldn’t tell anyone who I was, or who he was. I needed to go back to Colorado.”

  “He didn’t explain why you couldn’t tell anyone, or why he was using another name?”

  Diana shook her head. “He said it was complicated, and he didn’t want me to get involved. That it would be better if I didn’t know. That I should go on living my life the way I had been.” The tears started flowing again. Cordelia reached out for a box of Kleenex on a side table and handed Diana some tissues. “I didn’t know how I could do that! I was furious. Did he have any idea of what he’d put me through? I kept asking him to trust me! To tell me what was going on! Then Monday he didn’t come home. I was so worried. I thought he’d run off; that he’d disappeared again. That he didn’t want to see me. I even called the police and told them he was missing. Mrs. Irons, the chief’s wife, stopped in. But no one else seemed to care. And now he’s dead, so none of that matters, does it? He really isn’t coming home again. Ever! This time he really is dead!” Diana’s tears were flowing.

  Gussie and Maggie looked at each other.

  “Cordelia doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t understand how I feel. She’s not used to having me here. I can’t talk to her; I just write her notes, and we point. And now the police are going to start asking me questions. I just know they are. That’s what happened in Colorado. They’ve already searched his room.” Diana looked up at them. “How can he put me through this again? It just isn’t fair! I hate him! You’re the first people who’ve come today who haven’t just handed food in at the door and left. We need friends right now, and I don’t know what to do!”

  “Diana, I don’t know what your father was here for, or why he was using another name, but I’m sure you’re right. The police are going to want to talk to you again. It might help if you had a lawyer with you. My fiancé is a good lawyer,” said Gussie. “He’s very easy to talk with. If you’d like, I’ll call him right now, and get him to come down here.”

  Maggie signed that suggestion to Cordelia, who nodded, and signed back, “Yes, please. For Diana.”

  Diana nodded. “I guess so. I don’t know what’s important and what’s not. I didn’t do anything wrong, but I don’t know what my dad was doing here.”

  “Exactly,” said Maggie, as Gussie called Jim on her cell phone. “It would be good if you talked with a lawyer. For your
own protection.”

  “Like on television programs, right?” said Diana, brightening a little. “Lawyers aren’t only for guilty people; lawyers help protect people who’re innocent, too.”

  “That’s right,” said Maggie, as Gussie talked quietly on her phone.

  “Thank you.” Diana sniffled again, and blew her noise noisily on the Kleenex. “I really want to find out why my father ran away from Colorado and came here, and why he was using another name. He let me, and everyone he knew in Colorado, think he was dead. It was awful.”

  “What about your mother?” asked Maggie.

  “She died when I was ten,” said Diana. “Breast cancer. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I had to cope with everything. I’d begun to feel I had it under control: the legal mess, the paperwork, the ­finances: everything. And then this week it all started again.” She was trying very hard not to start crying again.

  “Jim’s on his way over,” said Gussie. “He’d be happy to represent you, Diana. And, I’m sorry, what’s your last name?”

  “Diana Hopkins. My dad was Roger Hopkins,” Diana said. “And, thank you.”

  Maggie looked over at Cordelia, who’d been watching them all closely. “Jim Dryden, Gussie’s fiancé, is going to come here to talk with Diana,” she signed. “He’s a good lawyer. He should be able to help. Would you like to talk with him, too?”

  To her surprise, Cordelia stood up and signed, “No thank you.” She walked toward the stairs to the second floor. As she reached the lower stairs she turned around. “Your friend can talk with Diana, but not me. Go. Leave. I need to be by myself. I don’t need a lawyer.”

  Chapter 9

  “Allow Me To Examine The Young Lady.” Winslow Homer wood engraving, an illustration for a story in Harper’s Weekly, February 18, 1860. A young woman, appearing distressed, is being addressed by a man (perhaps a judge?) standing on a platform. In back of him other men at a desk are checking large books and taking notes. At the time this was published, twenty-four-year-old Winslow Homer was living in New York City and supporting himself by providing illustrations to Harper’s Weekly and other newspapers. Occasionally he illustrated fiction as well as news stories. Homer did not sell his paintings until the mid-1870s. 4.5 x 4.5 inches. Some foxing. Price: $70.

  Maggie looked at Diana and Gussie. “If Cordelia wants some quiet time by herself, that’s understandable. Gussie, how long will it take for Jim to get here?”

  “He should be here any time,” she answered. “Diana, why don’t you get your purse, or anything else you need, and meet us outside. We’ll wait there for him.”

  Diana nodded, and ran up the stairs after Cordelia.

  “We seem to have found another issue to deal with,” Gussie said quietly, as she and Maggie headed out the front door. “She seems very young, and lost somewhere between grief and anger.”

  “And very alone. It’s strange her father lived here for two years, and then was killed a few days after she arrived. He may have told her not to tell anyone who he was, but she told us right away. Who else might she have told? And why was he here in the first place? I can’t imagine why he’d leave a daughter her age and let her believe he was dead.” How could anyone desert their child? Under any circumstances.

  “We don’t know anything about their life in Colorado. Maybe she knows something that puts her in danger, too,” said Gussie. “That’s why Jim should be involved. He’ll know how to handle this from a legal perspective.”

  Diana joined them, a small backpack slung over her right shoulder. A couple of minutes later Jim’s car pulled up. Maggie went over to him and gestured to Diana to join her. “Jim, this is Diana Hopkins, Dan Jeffrey’s daughter. She’ll tell you the details. Could you take her to your office to talk, and then bring her home here?”

  “Sure. No problem.” He held out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Diana. I’m Jim Dryden. Sorry about your dad. I’ll do what I can to help, and make it as easy as I can for you.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Dryden. I’d appreciate that.”

  “And I’ll see you two ladies for lunch in about an hour and a half, right?” said Jim.

  “Right! I’m looking forward to checking out the Winslow Inn in person after that delicious dinner you had them make for us last night,” Maggie said.

  “And we’re looking forward to showing off the reception site to the maid of honor. And, Gussie? Not to worry. I made sure the dresses were FedExed back to Georgia this morning, first thing.”

  “Maid of honor?” said Diana. She looked from Gussie to Jim. “You’re getting married soon?”

  “One week from tomorrow, unless there’s an earthquake or volcano,” said Jim. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How wonderful!” said Diana. Her tone of voice showed she’d put aside her grief for a moment and was in full young-woman-in-love-with-weddings mode. “If I can do anything to help, anything at all, please ask me! Doing something for a wedding would keep my mind away from everything else that’s happening.”

  “I’ll see if we can think of anything,” said Gussie. “There are always last-minute details that need taking care of.”

  “Please, do. Don’t forget.” said Diana, as she got into Jim’s car. “I really would love to help!”

  As the car drove off, Gussie grinned. “Sounds as though the best way to get that young woman to stop crying is to hand her a centerpiece to arrange or a bunch of ribbons to tie. Let’s hope Jim decides she’s fine, legally. We could use an extra pair of hands for a few days, and I suspect Cordelia would appreciate our keeping her busy.”

  “You’re right. There may not even be a funeral until Chief Irons decides what direction to go with his investigation.”

  Gussie shook her head. “Even writing her father’s obituary will have its challenges, since he had two names. I wonder whether he might even have a third name floating around somewhere.”

  “In the meantime, where to?”said Maggie, settling herself in Gussie’s van.

  “Post office. With us between residences, so to speak, they’re holding our mail there. Jim’s been picking it up, since it takes him less time, but if you don’t mind hauling?”

  Maggie shook her head. “I’m here to be of service.”

  “That’s what I counted on. I knew Jim would be tied up at his office this week, so I told him we’d do the mail runs. Especially since he agreed to take care of the dresses. He’s warned Peggy at the post office you’d be coming in.”

  “They’ll let me pick up your mail?”

  “When we’ve already signed that you can do it. And when you come in with my post office box key to prove it’s you,” said Gussie, pulling in to the parking lot. “Plus, Peggy’s a dear. I wouldn’t even bother with the mail except for the wedding RSVPs and the gifts coming in. I don’t want us to get too far behind on them.” She handed Maggie a key. “My post office box is number 457. Just go in and open the box and get the mail. If there’s a yellow package slip inside, give it to Peggy at the window and tell her you’re Gussie’s friend, come to get her mail, and that I’m in the parking lot.”

  Maggie saluted. “Got it!” She was back three minutes later with a handful of envelopes and two packages. “Two packages. Peggy says they look like wedding gifts. I could tell she was dying to know what was inside.”

  “I’ll tell her next time I see her. Now,” Gussie said, pulling out, “let’s stop at the church; I want to check in with Reverend Palmer, and then we’ll go straight to the restaurant. It’s only two blocks from the church.”

  “The advantages to being in a small town,” said Maggie, as they headed toward the center of town.

  The center of Winslow was a lot busier than it had been earlier; almost every parking space on the street was filled, and Maggie noted quietly that it was handy Gussie could use the handicapped van spaces in the church parking lot.

  “Reverend Palmer doesn’t mind,” said Gussie. “Only four of us in town have vans with wheelchair lifts, and all of us attend his church, so he
optimistically made sure there were plenty of spaces for us in the church parking lot. The chances we’ll all be downtown at the same time, other than for services, is pretty minimal. That leaves the other handicapped spaces in the area for visitors to town.”

  The church was, as Maggie assumed, handicapped-accessible, with a ramp from the parking lot to the front door so anyone who wished to or needed to could avoid the steps. Maggie pushed a button and the heavy doors opened in front of them.

  The sanctuary was classic New England: a center aisle lined by white pews, and high clear glass windows on each side. Small round stained glass windows picturing scenes of the sea set above the tall pillared windows were the only decorations. The pew cushions were dark blue, as was the carpet which led to the simple pine altar raised two steps at the front of the church. A gold cross above the altar was the only other ornament.

  “It’s beautiful, Gussie. Elegant. I hope your wedding day is sunny, like today.” The sun pouring in through the clear glass brightened the whole room.

  Gussie smiled at her. “I hope so, too. But the chandeliers,” she pointed at classic brass fixtures hanging from the ceiling, “are also lovely. And we’ll have candles and a flower arrangement on the altar. Come; I’ll show you.” She led Maggie down the aisle. “The ceremony will take place here on the floor, in front of the altar. You and Ellen will stand over here,” she pointed at her left side, “and Andy and Ben will be with Jim on the other side. All very traditional.”

  “Music?” Maggie asked.

  “The woman who plays the organ for services on Sundays is going to be here. We chose a Mozart piece we like, his Piano Sonata in A, for while people are coming in, and then we’ll have the traditional processional.” Gussie shrugged, almost in embarrassment. “Ben’s been humming ‘Here Comes the Bride’ since we announced we were getting married, and we didn’t want him to be disappointed.”

  “Makes sense to me,” said Maggie.

  “Now I need to find Reverend Palmer,” said Gussie, heading toward a door on the right side of the front of the church. She was about to knock, when a tall, good-looking man in jeans and an orange WINSLOW BASKETBALL sweatshirt opened it from the other side.