False Impressions

by Terri Thayer

  “There was no evidence of a meth-making operation,” Yost said.

  “No evidence because it all blew up,” April said.

  Mary Lou was shooting daggers at her now. April knew she shouldn’t talk about it here. She was messing up Mary Lou’s perfect soiree. People didn’t buy bigger houses and move their friends into neighborhoods where there were drug problems.

  But it seemed to her that if Yost was really concerned about doing his job, he’d be concerned about all illegal activity.

  Rocky pulled on her sleeve. “Leave it alone,” she said.

  “Are you quite positive that no one else has started making meth?” April wondered if Yost would know how to break up a ring of meth makers. Meth had been a hot-button issue in California. April remembered reading about damage done in the rural forests of Northern California, streams ruined by the toxic runoff.

  Yost was glowering at her now, and Mary Lou’s newcomers had begun to back away. Yost left her with no reason.

  “April,” Rocky said. April had just taken in a deep breath, ready to go one more round with Yost. She could show him up for the fool he was. Something in Rocky’s voice made her stop. She let the air out of her lungs and faced Rocky.

  “What?”

  Rocky leaned over her, blocking April from view with her hair. She whispered softly, “That’s how Mary Lou’s brother died,” Rocky said. “In that house.”

  April glanced up at Mary Lou, who was escaping into the dining room.

  She’d had no idea. “In the meth house?”

  That did explain the cremains. Certainly there couldn’t be much left for burial.

  April felt her stomach churn. She hadn’t meant to hurt Mary Lou. She looked up, but Mary Lou had turned her back and was disappearing into the crowd. April heard her voice, low and purring, but she could see from the stiffness in her shoulders that she was furious.

  She turned to Rocky. She glanced at Deana and Mitch. Their heads were hung low. “Are you telling me her brother was making meth?”

  “Not really. I think he was more of an errand boy. He was never a druggie, just a drunk.”

  Mitch came up behind her and kissed her ear. “Ready to go?” he said.

  “I need to go say good-bye to Mary Lou first,” April said, watching her friend as she herded her guests into the family room for a nightcap.

  “Maybe not tonight,” Mitch said. “You can call her tomorrow.”

  April glanced from Rocky to Deana and Mark. They all looked disappointed in her.

  “I didn’t know,” she said. “I didn’t know.”

  CHAPTER 6

  “I didn’t know,” April said to Mitch for the tenth time since they’d gotten in the car. They were only a half mile from Mary Lou’s place. April kept looking behind them, as if she could still see the house and know what was going on.

  “There was no way you could have. You were in California.”

  “Deana could have told me, instead of making it seem like a state secret.”

  Mitch repeated himself. “You couldn’t have known. Mary Lou’s just hurting. She won’t stay mad.”

  April wasn’t so sure. Mary Lou could hold a grudge. There were several Realtors in town that she’d cut out of her business because of their sketchy dealings. April didn’t want to be cut out of the stamping group. She liked Mary Lou, Suzi, Rocky, and Deana. They were her closest friends here. If she didn’t have those women in her life, Aldenville wouldn’t be a fun place to be.

  Mitch put a hand on her thigh, reminding her of one big reason Aldenville felt like a great place to live. He smiled at her, chucking her under the chin, a move that would have warranted a slap away if attempted by anyone else.

  She grabbed his fingers and squeezed. The returned pressure felt like sustenance.

  “She can’t stay angry with you,” Mitch reiterated.

  “You can’t stay angry with me,” she countered.

  He sensed a change in her mood and furthered it along by kissing her fingertips. “So true.”

  He drove with one hand, twirling the steering wheel with his pinky. April felt herself softening. She didn’t want to think about what she’d just done to Mary Lou. She wanted to obliterate the reaction she’d seen on her friend’s face.

  Mitch was at the end of the road. “Right or left? Are you coming home with me?”

  They’d planned on ending their evening in front of his fireplace. Now the decision had to be made. Left to Mitch’s. Right to the barn. Left to mind-altering ministrations from Mitch. Right to home and nonstop recriminations. There was really no choice.

  “Promise to ply me with drink?”

  “My best scotch is at your disposal.”

  “Promise me to make me forget what a jerk I just was?”

  “I have the method in mind,” he said.

  “Promise to drive me home in a few hours?”

  “I will.” With his right hand, he tapped out a rhythm on her knee. “You won’t be sorry. I built a fire. It’s all ready to go.” His voice grew low and teasing. “Just one match, and whoosh . . .”

  April’s thigh heated up where his fingertips now rested. His touch held a lot of promise. They’d be at his house in a few minutes. The house would be toasty, warm enough to get rid of the layers of clothes she was wearing.

  “Drive faster,” she said.

  April woke up late. Mitch had dropped her off at about two A.M. What sky she could see from the clerestory windows high above her in the loft was pale. The sun might not make an appearance at all from the looks of the cloud cover.

  She could hear the usual midmorning noises coming from downstairs. The TV was on. Charlotte opened the refrigerator slowly, trying to be quiet as she got their early lunch started. She’d hate it if she knew her attempts to stifle herself were more annoying to April than a steady stream of noise would be. She held her breath waiting for the refrigerator to make the final squeak. It took forever.

  April had hoped that ideas for the stamps for Rocky’s new line would come to her in the night. She often set her mind in gear before falling asleep and came up with wonderful ideas in those moments just before she fully woke up. Last night was not one of those times.

  Maybe it was the subject matter. Winter was not an inspiration to her. This winter had been too harsh, too restrictive, too cold for her to enjoy and want to memorialize in stamps. She tried to come up with pictures in her head that reflected the beauty, but nothing was coming.

  The real reason was how badly she felt about mouthing off at Mary Lou’s. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, wishing she had said something else.

  But it was curious. Mary Lou was the last person she’d expect to have a brother who had died in a meth-lab explosion. It was hard to believe Mary Lou had a criminal in the family. She was so straight.

  The purse guns that Logan had showed April took on a new meaning now.

  Even so, she hadn’t meant to rub Mary Lou’s nose in it. She couldn’t have known the facts, but still, she had hurt Mary Lou. She needed to make amends quickly.

  She would go to Mary Lou’s office for the list of rental houses and talk to her there.

  April threw off her duvet. The loft was too warm, victim of the seniors downstairs in charge of the thermostat. She tried not to think of the heating oil they were burning as she started down her ladder.

  Charlotte greeted her with a smile. She got up out of her recliner and headed to the kitchen, trying to beat April to the counter. “I didn’t know if you wanted coffee,” she said.

  “I’ll get it,” April said. “Sit down.”

  Charlotte parked herself at the kitchen table, watching April as she got down a mug and a cereal bowl.

  “Want eggs?”

  April held her hand up. “I’m just going to have instant oatmeal.”

  Charlotte settled back like a cartoon bird on a nest. “Are you having dinner with Mitchell, dear?”

  “Yes, he’s cooking.”

  Grizz harrumphed from the
other room, whether at Mitch’s cooking or something Maury Povich said, she wasn’t sure.

  April finished off the soy milk. A trip to the store was in her future. Since the weather had turned so cold and snowy, she did all the shopping. Charlotte and Grizz hadn’t left the house in probably three weeks.

  “Do you have a grocery list for me?” she asked.

  Charlotte produced one from her apron pocket.

  “I’ve got some work to do, and then I’ll run errands.”

  “Thank you, sweetie pie.”

  April went back up to the loft after her shower and drew for an hour. She never hit her stride, feeling like she was trying to force something that wasn’t coming.

  She gave up and headed out for her errands.

  Mary Lou’s real estate office sat in an old home at the edge of the development she and her husband had built twenty years earlier. Her own house was visible on a hill that overlooked both. April pulled into the small asphalt parking lot.

  The door opened into a small reception office. A middle-aged woman with tightly controlled curly hair smiled at her.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Mary Lou here?”

  “No, I’m sorry, she’s not.”

  April was disappointed. She’d hoped to get to Mary Lou right away and apologize. She didn’t want this to fester. “Okay. Do you have an envelope for me? April Buchert? She said she would pull together a list of rentals for me.”

  The receptionist looked through a pile of papers on her desk. The door to the inner office opened and closed. Logan, Kit’s husband, came through.

  “April? You taken care of?”

  The receptionist shot him a look of pure resentment. “Got it covered, Logan,” she said, not looking up from her task.

  “You working?” April asked.

  “Yeah. Going out to make the rounds. Make sure no pipes burst over the weekend.”

  “That’s nice,” April said. From the exasperated expression of the receptionist, April got the feeling Logan was padding his importance.

  “I don’t see anything with your name on it, Miss Buchert.”

  Again, April was disappointed. She wanted to get started looking for a new place.

  Logan came forward, perching himself behind the receptionist on the desk return. He ignored her pointed look and swung his legs. “Whatcha need?”

  “Your mother-in-law said she had a list of houses for rent. I want to start looking at what’s available.”

  “I can take you to a few.”

  “I’d rather go by myself. Mary Lou said she’d give me the lockbox key.”

  She didn’t need an escort. Especially Logan.

  “Wait here,” he said, jumping off the desk and going back into the inner sanctum. April could see a giant mahogany desk and credenza. Pictures of Kit and the twins filled the walls. Mary Lou’s office.

  The receptionist smiled slightly. The phone rang, and she answered it. April knew when she was being dismissed. April had thrown her lot in with Logan, and the receptionist was miffed.

  “Here you go,” Logan said.

  The receptionist looked over, trying to see what was in his hand. He palmed the page and gave April a key.

  “I put my cell number up on top. If you need anything, just call. This key will get you into all of these. These are all foreclosures, so they’re empty.”

  April glanced at the list. There were ten houses listed. A lot of the descriptions were abbreviated, and she wasn’t sure what they meant.

  She could go home and look at them on Google Earth and see if any suited her needs. Perfect.

  “Thanks, Logan.” She nodded to the surly receptionist and let herself out. On to the IGA.

  She was only about halfway through Charlotte’s grocery list when she heard her name being called.

  “April? April Buchert?”

  April turned her head. She’d not gotten used to how small Aldenville was. She must not have changed much since she was sixteen; she was always running into people who knew her parents and recognized her.

  She plastered a fake smile and prepared to meet yet another aging friend of her parents. Last week, it had had been Dumpy, the Presbyterian minister. The week before, she’d been mortified in the frozen food aisle by her kindergarten teacher gushing about April’s artistic talents at age five.

  The woman in front of her looked to be at least fifty. Her hair was lank, and there were scabs on the backs of her hands that appeared to have been picked many times over and never allowed to heal. When the woman opened her mouth to talk, April was shocked to see broken and brown teeth.

  Alarmed, April took a step back.

  “It’s me, Violet.”

  April shook her head. She didn’t remember this person. She started to walk away, but the woman wasn’t finished.

  “Violet Wysocki.”

  Violet Wysocki? April could barely keep her jaw from dropping. Of course she should have made the connection. Not too many people were named after a crayon. But this person was so far from the girl she’d known.

  Violet had been her very first best friend. Daughter of the town’s most popular general practitioner, she’d been pampered and cosseted her entire life. Naturally blonde and predatorily perky, she’d ruled every class they’d ever been in together, starting in first grade. She and April had been inseparable until about fifth grade, when Violet began to change. By the time they got to high school, Deana and April were tight, and Violet, queen of the mean girls, wouldn’t give her a second glance. When Ed had come out, ruining April’s senior year, Violet had ignored April entirely.

  She had been the most talented kid in the school. She’d nailed the highest pikes in cheer, got the best grades in math, and sang the lead in all the school plays.

  What had happened to her? She looked older than her own mother. Take that back. Her mother, who April remembered as a tight frosted-hair version of her daughter, would never let herself look like this. Not this.

  “I saw you at the council meeting,” Violet said.

  April struggled until she realized this was the woman Yost had been with. She’d blended into the woodwork there. Violet’s hand shook as she offered it to April. She was so thin, April was afraid to press too hard as she accepted.

  Was it anorexia? Violet had been overly concerned about her weight in high school, but April didn’t think anorexia could do this to a person.

  A woman in a disability cart beeped at them to get past. Violet drew her over to the side of the aisle.

  “How are you?” she asked, but her eyes wouldn’t light on April’s, and she didn’t really sound like she wanted to know everything. She glanced over her shoulder several times.

  “Well, I’ve moved back.”

  “I heard.”

  “It’s great,” April said, trying to end the conversation as fast as she could. The smell coming from her mouth of rotting teeth was awful. Standing this close to her was not an option. “But I’m in a hurry. Catch up another time?”

  “Call me,” Violet said, wagging her thumb and index finger. “I’m at my dad’s.” April nodded politely. The woman walked away. Her steps were mincing as though her feet hurt. It was painful to watch her.

  April didn’t think she was going to be calling her anytime soon.

  April went home, helped Charlotte put things in the cupboards, and went back up to the loft to work. She tried to get the picture of a ruined Violet out of her mind but couldn’t help but notice her sketches of icy mountains resembled broken teeth. Doggedly, she put her mind on hold and drew without thought. An angry Mary Lou made a mental appearance. April kept drawing until finally she was lost in the process.

  Her cell phone rang, breaking her hard-earned concentration. From the backlit readout, it was nearly four o’clock. She had managed to work for several hours. She paged through the sketchbook to see if anything was worth keeping as she answered.

  “April, can you come over?”

  April didn’t recognize the voic
e at first. “Kit?” she asked.

  While April liked Kit, Kit was not the kind of friend that she expected to get a call from. She saw Kit sometimes at stamping, although since the twins had been born, she hadn’t seen much of her at all. And after the scene at the party last night, she’d figured none of the Rosens would be talking to her.

  “Are you at your mother’s?” April asked. She still needed to talk to Mary Lou. She’d left a message that so far hadn’t been returned.

  “I am over at the new house. I’m sanding the kitchen cupboards.”

  “Do you need help?” April asked. Perhaps Kit wanted her expert opinion on decorating.

  “I’ve got something I want you to see. Can you come over in a half an hour?”

  April realized the girl sounded excited. Maybe she’d found something to like about the house after all.

  “Okay, give me the address.”

  April clicked off her cell phone. Kit must be really bothered by her trouble with her mother. April was glad the girl had called her for some advice.

  She had the computer open to Google Earth in anticipation of looking up the addresses Logan had given her. She searched for directions to Kit’s house. She thought she knew where she was going but wanted to make sure. It was a rural route address. Like Kit said, the house was isolated, set back from the road and with a pig farm on one side and fields across the street. Looked like the nearest human neighbor was a quarter mile away.

  April grabbed her purse and her keys. She followed the directions she’d downloaded from the Internet. Kit’s new house was several miles on the Dowling Road, past Suzi’s nursery. The homes thinned once past Suzi’s. Long stretches of empty snow-covered land appeared, probably farms. The road was cleared, although piles of snow encroached from the shoulders and made the road more narrow than usual.

  A pair of deer crossed the road in front of her. Her foot came off the accelerator. Ed’s voice rang in her ear. If there’s two, there’s more. Slow down and watch carefully.

  Her father was right. A smaller deer bounded across the road, leaving fluffy bursts of snow in her wake.

  She drove slowly. The snow looked deeper out here, and the road wasn’t cleared to two full lanes. If she met another car head on, she’d wind up in a snowbank.