He quickly smoothed over the smug look that had crossed his face. “She doesn’t,” he said shortly. “I met her at your dad’s, and was just wondering if she went to things like this.”
Rebecca shook her head. She had the feeling no one was being particularly honest. “She’ll probably come,” she said, looking away from Aaron. “If William will be there, so will Adrianna.”
Rebecca almost didn’t catch his self-satisfied expression. “I’ll come, but only if you agree to go somewhere more formal with me next weekend. I have a theory that you look stunning all dressed up.”
Rebecca thought quickly. If Aaron was lying to her about Adrianna, and she was pretty sure he was, who knew what else he was fibbing about? Maybe she’d better play it safe and see how things went on Thursday.
She tried to shrug nonchalantly. “We’ll see. I’ll let you know one way or the other.” She glanced up in time to catch his scowl. “Don’t be such a baby,” she scolded lightly. “I’ll meet you at Faye’s at seven. And I would advise you to be on time. She has even less patience for tardiness than I do.
Aaron was smart enough to kiss her on the cheek when he dropped her off in front of her building later that evening. “Thanks for coming with me,” he said. “And, again, I’m terribly sorry I was so late. I’m glad you’re so forgiving.”
Rebecca tried to smile at him. “Have a good weekend,” she threw over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs. She waited inside until she could hear the sound of his engine fading as he drove away.
She woke up early the next morning determined to find the inventory Scott had made. It took her hardly any time to go through her tiny downstairs. She even moved the love seat in the sitting room, although she was relatively sure it couldn’t be there since she hadn’t sat on it yet. There was no sign of the list.
The boxes of books stacked in the library took a while longer to unpack, even though she didn’t bother alphabetizing them. She made a mental note to rearrange them the following week and took the empty boxes outside to the recycling bins. The file was nowhere to be seen.
After she climbed back upstairs, she slumped on her bed and stared at the two last boxes she’d pulled from her closet. They had been the ones she’d kept under the bed in Cassie’s apartment, and if those lists were anywhere in her home, they’d be there. Remembering that they contained pictures and memories from her high school days, she closed her eyes and opened the one closest to her.
The picture she’d found before lay on top of the pile of papers inside, and she set it resolutely aside. Underneath were letters filled with an unmistakable scrawl, all signed at the bottom with a simple “EW.” She smiled faintly as she looked at them. Maybe it wasn’t so surprising, after all, that Elliot had become a columnist. He had faithfully written her notes–letters, really–every three days and had remained on his self-set deadline in their last two years in school.
The other box contained a mixture of things she’d kept in college: her marked-up copy of her senior thesis, tickets to football games, Cassie’s wedding picture taken outside City Hall; William had been less than pleased. When the box was empty and all the contents strewn about her on the floor, she had to admit to herself that that blasted list was nowhere to be found. The only place left to look was at Cassie’s. She grabbed her keys and marched out the front door.
Half an hour later, she stood in Cassie’s apartment wondering why she was so determined to get those files back. She didn’t really want to go over William’s purchase history and watch on paper as he slowly but surely sent their family into financial ruin. It had been hard enough to sit back and watch as all their possessions had been sold to strangers; how could this possibly be any better?
She shook her head resolutely and walked down the empty hallway toward the spare bedroom. Everything was just as she had left it. She doubted Cassie had stepped foot in the room before she had departed for Michigan again. Rebecca had noticed on her way past the kitchen, though, that Cassie hadn’t been brave enough to attempt cooking again. Menus from nearby cafes littered the kitchen counter.
Rebecca stood still and closed her eyes, trying to remember the evening Scott and Jen had given her the printout. She’d come back from the party at Elliot’s and had sat at the kitchen table, talking to them. He’d given her a folder and she’d gone into the bedroom to get the list from the auction. She’d taken Scott’s file with her, she remembered. And two days later, he’d sent back her copy from the house. What had she done with them?
She opened and closed drawers on the dresser and was looking in the bottom one when she saw something underneath the chest of drawers. She lay on her stomach and stuck her hand back as far as it could go between the thick carpet and the bottom of the drawer, scraping her hand in the process. Her hand brushed against something that was definitely not carpet, and when she pulled her arm out, she was clutching not one but two file folders.
She sat up on the floor and stared at them for several minutes, wondering if she held the key to the whole mess in her hands.
I wish William had never had any money in the first place. Life would have been so much easier. Faye wouldn’t have tried to convince me to dump Elliot, Elisa might be a little more normal, Adrianna wouldn’t have given us a second look, and I wouldn’t be here right now, playing detective for something I have no control over.
She shook her head again. There was no use wondering what could have been, she told herself sternly. The only thing you can do now is move forward and do the best you can.
She called Jen from the kitchen as she unloaded Cassie’s dishwasher. Cassie had left the owner’s manual next to the sink. Rebecca had wondered how she’d managed to turn it on without either breaking it or sending floods of soapy water all over the tiled floor. It took a long time for Jen to answer, and her “Hello?” was flustered.
“Jen, it’s Rebecca. Is everything okay?”
Jen let out an explosive breath. “If I have to fetch one more thing for that wimpy husband of mine I think I’ll scream.”
Rebecca chuckled. “It sounds like you need to get out of the house. Why don’t you come over to my place after dinner? I’d offer to make you something to eat but I’m pretty sure Scott is useless in the kitchen with only one arm.”
“He’s useless with two,” Jen muttered. “I’ll be there by eight.”
That evening Rebecca sat in her library, Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony floating from the CD player in her room. She stared at the two folders on the coffee table, wondering if she had the strength to look at them. She’d just leaned over to pick one up when Jen knocked on the door.
Jen walked in and stood in the middle of the room. She turned around several times, finally stopping to look at Rebecca like she thought her friend had lost her mind. “I can’t believe I recommended this place,” she said, her hands on her hips. “It has to be bigger than this. And with less barf on the walls.”
Rebecca laughed. That seemed to be a common first reaction. She tugged Jen through the kitchen and up the stairs. “It is,” she promised. “Just wait.”
Jen was appropriately awed by the upstairs. “I hardly ever go down there unless I have to eat,” Rebecca confided. “I’ve considered putting a hot plate and a little refrigerator up here so I don’t have to stare at all those green walls. Next weekend I’m painting.”
“Thank goodness.” Jen flopped down on the couch and looked at the folders in front of her. “What’s this?”
Rebecca grimaced. “I spent all day looking for those pieces of paper,” she said. “They’re the lists from the auction and your husband. I haven’t been brave enough to compare them yet.”
Jen pulled herself into a sitting position and grabbed them. “Well, there’s no time like the present,” she declared. “Let’s see what we have.”
An hour later, they had pulled out markers and highlighted everything that Rebecca thought was a bogus purchase. Surprisingly enough, William hadn’t bought all that much over the past year–at least,
not that she knew of. “I know he hasn’t been on a cruise, and there have been no new cars since he totaled the Mercedes and had to replace it two years ago. The Audi threw me, though, because he might have gotten it for Elisa.”
Jen flipped through the pages in front of her. “No Audi was sold, and there wasn’t one left at the end of the auction. Who do you think purchased it?”
“I don’t know,” Rebecca said slowly. “Wait. When did William or someone else buy it?”
“About six months ago. Why?”
The conversation with Aaron the night before ran through Rebecca’s mind. When she had asked him when he bought the car, he’d responded immediately, “Six months ago. Why? Do you want one too?” as though it was somehow in his power to get her a fancy car. Surely that was just coincidence…
“What’s going through your head?” Jen was looking at her strangely.
“Nothing. Well, I’ve been seeing this guy and–”
“Wait a minute. You’re seeing someone? It’s not Elliot, is it?” Now Jen sounded mad.
“No, no. Calm down. I had a flat tire on Mackinac Island–”
“I thought you weren’t allowed to drive cars up there.”
Rebecca threw a pillow at her. “Will you stop interrupting? I was riding a bicycle. This guy that Faye’s been trying to set me up with for years happened to come upon me and fixed it. Then I came back here and had a flat tire… on my car,” she clarified for Jen’s benefit, “and Aaron saved the day again. We’ve been out twice. But he has a new Audi, and he only acquired it six months ago, too.”
Jen narrowed her eyes. “That’s an awful lot of coincidences for one man,” she said thoughtfully.
“I know.”
They lapsed into silence. Rebecca fingered the file in her lap, wondering how it all added up. “You know, I think Aaron and Adrianna, the woman who’s mooching off William, know each other. She mentioned him the other day and tried to cover it up, and he didn’t seem pleased when he found out she would most likely be at Faye’s garden party next Thursday.”
“That’s awfully convenient,” Jen mused, her eyes unfocused. “Are you thinking that this Aaron guy is the one who’s been embezzling money from your dad?”
“I wasn’t, at least not until about thirty seconds ago. But why would he even bother? He has plenty of money of his own. Why would he trouble himself to filch it from someone else?”
“How do you know he has all this money? Does he have some high-paying job or something?”
Come to think of it, Rebecca didn’t really know what Aaron did with his time. He’d been wearing a suit the day he’d changed her tire on the Dan Ryan expressway. Why would you wear a suit if you weren’t going to work? “I don’t really know,” she admitted. “Faye was always talking him up, especially after I started dating Elliot, and she seemed to think it was a big selling point that he was rich. I always assumed he stood to inherit a fortune.”
As if the CD player knew what they were talking about, the music changed. The first four notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony boomed into the silence, and both Jen and Rebecca jerked in response. They laughed at each other, and Rebecca stacked the folders on top of her desk. She’d copy them tomorrow for Detective Patterson and let him deal with the whole mess.
***
Rebecca dropped the copies she’d made at the police station the next day. She and Jen had spent the majority of the evening writing notes on sticky notes for the detective, and she’d scribbled an extra line at the bottom of the first page. “Should I cancel my date with Aaron Sharpe for this Thursday?”
Detective Patterson called her as she was on her way to work the next morning. “Keep your date,” he said in his stiff voice. “We have no reason to suspect him yet, and it could all be coincidental.”
That word again, Rebecca thought as she swerved around a truck. How many times could it be said about the same person? “If you say so,” she said doubtfully. “Will you call me if you figure anything out?”
“I’ll see what I can do, ma’am.” He paused. “Are you driving a car?”
“Yes, why?” She zipped into a space in the right hand lane and exited ten feet later.
“You know that’s highly dangerous.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know that, Detective.”
He harrumphed noisily. “I need to get back to work. Keep me informed if Mr. Sharpe does anything you find strange. Good day, ma’am.”
Rebecca flipped her phone closed as she pulled into the parking lot of the library. It’s too bad he’s in law enforcement, she thought ruefully. He’d have made an incredible butler.
Her phone buzzed again as she walked down the hall. She answered without looking to see who was calling. “Hello?”
“Rebecca, this is Michael.” His voice was faint and crackly, as though he was calling from a tunnel.
“Mick! I haven’t heard from you in a while. How are things going?”
“Fine, fine. Look, we’re making plans to return to Chicago. Would you mind calling a taxi to get us from the airport when we have our tickets?”
“I can come for you,” she protested. “My car isn’t that small.”
Michael laughed. “I know, but we may get in while you’re at work. I’ll email you when I have all the details.”
“No problem.”
She heard muffled voices, as though he was talking to someone at the other end of the line. “Oh, and Cassie says to tell you, hey. Look, I’m sorry to cut this short but I have to go. Thanks again.”
“I’ll see you soon,” Rebecca said, her mind already on the day before her.
“Oh, and one more thing. Nicole’s engaged.”
The phone clattered to the ground. Rebecca stared at it in horror. How could Elliot have asked Nicole to marry him? Had his feelings changed since she’d overheard him talking to Locke just three weeks before? She ran down the hallway and picked up a current copy of the Tribune. With shaking fingers she opened it to the third page. Elliot was back, as promised by his editor. She started to read, hoping Elliot’s words would refute what Michael had told her.
Ready or Not
by Elliot Winters
It’s good to be back.
For those of you who’ve been wondering where I’ve disappeared to, I’m still in Michigan. I’ve spent the past two weeks holed up in my best friend’s house. Such terrible company that even he has fled his own home, and left me alone in this huge, empty Victorian with no one to talk to but myself. And, at the risk of sounding like a nutcase, I have.
Once I had bored myself to tears, I decided to look through an old box of my things that somehow were stored here. Inside was a bunch of old school papers I wrote for an English class so long ago that I can’t remember the teacher’s name.
We were studying Shakespeare, and the essay that caught my attention was about Much Ado About Nothing. For some reason, back in high school this play captured my fancy, and I spent many hours debating which character suited me the best. At the time, the logical choice was Claudio.
Now that I am older and a little smarter, and the romanticism of life has faded some, I can see that this may not have been the best choice. For those of you who are a little rusty on the Bard, there are essentially two plots in the play. Hero and Claudio my miscast equivalent are the younger, more naïve lovers, whereas Beatrice and Benedick, their older counterparts, are a little wiser and much wittier.
I believe I identified with Claudio because his ladylove, Hero, was so… well, nice. I was dating a girl at the time that embodied all the character traits that Hero displayed: sweetness, innocence, and at times a little bit of a pushover especially when it came to her overbearing father. Since Claudio ended up getting Hero in the end it was a natural conclusion for my innocent brain to come to.
Now, some ten years later, I wonder at my intelligence. While Hero and Claudio exude love and sweetness, Beatrice and Benedick were invariably more interesting. Their verbal swordplay is what really carries the pl
ay, and most readers could really care less about the younger lovers.
What if I was wrong? What if what I’m really looking for isn’t a Hero after all, but a Beatrice instead?
But where does a person find a Beatrice? Ideally, she would be a mixture of the two women in the play, sharing Hero’s appealing innocence with Beatrice’s fierce loyalty and piercing intelligence. I think I may have found this person, although she probably doesn’t know I think of her this way.
I once swore that I would never marry. I was burnt by a marriage proposal, after all. But I may have to change my opinion. Now all I have to do is get out of here, find the girl, and convince her that I’m not the naïve boy I once was.
Chapter Thirteen
Jen caught Rebecca staring blankly at the wall ten minutes later. She looked at Rebecca curiously and sat next to her, a cell phone in her hand.
“Did you mean to leave this on the floor outside?”
Rebecca turned her head slowly. She was having a hard time focusing. “What?” she asked blankly.
“Your phone. You must have dropped it in the hall.”
“Oh. Right.” Jen tried to hand the phone to her, but Rebecca didn’t seem to notice. Her arm rested on top of the newspaper in front of her, as though her subconscious self was trying to hide the words on the page.
“What’s that?” Jen asked gently, touching Rebecca’s fingers. “Did you read some bad news?”
Rebecca shook her head. “No. Yes. I don’t know.” She rubbed her temple with the heel of her hand. Her head hurt. “Michael called just after I got here. Nicole’s engaged.”
“Nicole? Who’s Nicole?”
“She’s the girl that Elliot was dating.”
Jen’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “You mean the dumb one who fell into the water while trying to get his attention?”
Rebecca smiled faintly. “That’s the one.”
“And I guess you think she’s engaged to Elliot.”
Rebecca felt a sudden surge of irritation. “Of course I mean that! What else would you think after you read this?” She thrust the newspaper under Jen’s nose. “Read it,” she ordered. “Read it and then tell me that they aren’t getting married.”
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