To this, Valerie just rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I still have to go home and finish laundry and clean the kitchen. I’ll bet the Dodson sisters never have to do laundry or clean.”
“You do seem very busy,” Bexley said.
Valerie just shrugged. “You know how it is when you’re a mom. Busy all the time.”
Really, Bexley didn’t know—not personally—but she nodded sympathetically. “I’m sure Lindy must keep you busy. She’s what? Six? Seven?”
“She’s seven.” Valerie stopped smiling, but only for a second. “Second grade this fall. And then I’ll add school and homework and Daisies to her schedule.”
“Daisies?” Bexley interrupted.
“Daisies. Yes. That’s what the girls are before they’re Brownies, and then Girl Scouts.”
“I see.” Bexley had never done Girl Scouts growing up, nor did she need to—growing up on a farm the way she had.
“Yeah.” Valerie continued. “As if summer isn’t busy enough. There’s dance lessons on Tuesday and Thursday. Voice lessons after Tuesday dance, tennis on Wednesday, and piano lessons on Friday. And that’s after three weeks of day camp. And next year, she’s off to Black River for two weeks. That’s a horse riding camp a couple of hours north of here.”
“Wow.” Bexley gave a low whistle. “That’s one heck of a schedule.”
“Tell me about it.” Valerie sighed again. “But that’s what it takes to raise a child the Grosse Pointe Way, you know. And really, you do want to give them all the advantages.”
“So, she’ll keep that schedule up, even after school starts?”
“Oh no,” Valerie said. “Tennis is summer only. In the fall, we’ll do gymnastics, skiing in the winter, and then I usually let her pick something else to do in the spring.”
Bexley didn’t know what to say, other than thinking she wouldn’t be raising her future children the “Grosse Pointe Way,” whatever that was. It sounded way too stressful.
“Well… Um… It sounds like finding time for yourself can be quite a challenge.”
“Oh, for sure.” Valerie, nodding her head again, switching her bags back to the other hand, watching the cars roll down Kercheval like she was straining to see who was inside each one, then looking back at Bexley. “It can be a real challenge, meeting someone who will make a good husband in this town.”
“So you want to get married again?”
“Oh, absolutely.” She paused and stared across the street. “Oh look! There’s Peggy LeRoux and Sally Hamilton.” Pointing now. “Going into Panera. I’ll have to go say hello to them. Lindy is Harper’s and Annabelle’s half-sister, you know. Those are Peggy’s daughters with Linwood. Harper’s nine, and Annabelle is eleven.” Barely pausing, then saying, “Someone suitable, you know. From a good family—with a good income. At least $500-K a year. For a husband, I mean. I owe it to Lindy to make sure she doesn’t suffer any downgrade in her lifestyle once my alimony runs out. I don’t want her to feel left out when all her friends are going to the mall or to an expensive summer camp or getting the latest iPhone.”
“Well, yes, I guess.” It all seemed very overboard to Bexley, but she didn’t have any children, so she supposed she wasn’t in a position to judge. “Well, I hope you find someone who makes you happy,” she said. “I know it can be tough meeting eligible men in this town. Guys like Vaughn Humphries don’t come along every day.”
Valerie winced, smile dropping for the second time, taking a full two seconds to return.
“I’m so sorry,” Bexley said. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was bragging.”
“Oh no. Not at all.” Valerie’s smile pushed back on now, still looking as fake as ever. “Heck, I’d brag too, if I was dating someone like Vaughn. And I’m sure he’s really over Eleanor Dodson this time.”
It felt like a dig, the way Valerie said it…never mind the smile on her face. Bexley glanced out at the noon cars cruising Kercheval… heavy by Grosse Pointe standards, but light compared to the traffic clogging Mack or Gratiot. “Yes, I’m sure he is.”
“Of course he is.” Valerie’s head went up and down like a bobble head now as she shifted her shopping bags around yet again. “I know he started dating Eleanor after he dated Hannah Ransom and again after he and Sophie Durning broke things off. But I think he’s definitely over Eleanor now. Especially since she broke things off with him for making a pass at Annie. I mean, a man doesn’t make a pass at a woman’s sister if he cares at all about their relationship. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Vaughn dated Hannah Ransom?” A vision of the dead girl being wheeled out of the woods flashed through Bexley’s memory. “And Sophie Durning?”
“Yes. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No. He never mentioned it. And I don’t know about him making a pass at Annie, but Vaughn and Nan both told me he’s the one who dumped Eleanor. For a very different reason.”
Valerie frowned, giving her a look like she was something to be pitied. “I’m sure that’s what happened then. The rest of the women in town must have it wrong.”
Bexley wanted to go somewhere—process what Valerie had just told her—call Vaughn. And Valerie just standing there with those big eyes and gaping mouth. Bexley almost couldn’t bear it. “Well, you look like you need to get the shopping bags off your arms,” she said at last. “And I need to get some lunch before my next client comes in.”
“Yes. These bags are starting to get heavy.” Valerie agreed. “It was nice bumping into you, Bexley. See you later.”
Bexley wasn’t sure why, but watching the woman lower her bags into her car and drive away, she was glad she was gone.
Chapter Twelve
Early evening brought a mild breeze and a welcome drop in temperatures. Sitting at an umbrella-topped table on the terrace over-looking a small garden, Bexley couldn’t help but think she should be enjoying this night more. What was wrong with her? She had everything she’d ever dreamed about…her business was going so well she’d had to postpone working on Mrs. Blake’s bathrooms until she finished Mrs. Newburg’s kitchen and an entire first-floor re-do for Mrs. Fuller. Shirley LeBec had even called just before she closed her office for the day. Shirley couldn’t wait to work with her, and frankly, she couldn’t wait to work with Shirley. Shirley loved Motown, and they spent fifteen minutes talking about their love of music and how people must stare at them as they were jamming out behind the steering wheel…that part of the conversation being prompted by Valerie’s comment earlier. Anyway, Shirley seemed like she’d be a lot of fun to work with, and with four clients booked, Bexley’d be making her rent for the rest of the year.
Her love life wasn’t going so badly either…not considering the handsome man sitting across the table from her. Vaughn couldn’t be any more perfect if she’d special-ordered him from some luxury husband store. Letting Valerie’s gossip get to her and ruin her evening was just stupid.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Vaughn said. “You’re not disappointed by our night together, are you?”
“No.” Bexley spoke just a little too loudly, shocked he might think that, and embarrassed at how obviously pre-occupied she was. “Not at all. Last night really couldn’t have been more perfect.”
“Then why am I having so much trouble holding your attention?”
“You’re not. It’s just…” She looked down at the patch of grass below, bordered by shrubs and bushes of roses, peonies and delphinium. “I was just admiring that garden down there. It’s so picturesque. Like something I’d do at my own house…if I had one.”
“Well, I suppose if I have to compete for your attention, work is better than another man.”
He smiled, and she smiled back, still not feeling it. Ever since her run in with Valerie, a shadow of doubt had been forming in her mind, confusing her thoughts — making it hard to concentrate. Vaughn had dated both Hannah and Sophie. Hadn’t he told her? Valerie sounding so very surprised. Like she felt sorry for Bexley or something. Like there was some re
ason she should.
“You’re sure it’s just landscapes you’re thinking about?” Vaughn asked. “You seem so distant.”
“Sorry. I’m also thinking about how my business is going so well, I’m running out of time to take care of everyone. I swear I may have to clone myself.”
He laughed. “And what do you propose I do with two of you? I can barely handle one.”
She was busy trying to think of some sexy come-back when the waitress appeared, handing them menus.
“Hi, Mr. Humphries. Can I get either of you drink?”
Vaughn, smiling back at the girl, said, “Can you get me an old-fashioned please, Veronica?”
The waitress was a young black girl in her early twenties with short hair and big eyes and long lashes. Her eyebrows pulled in together as Vaughn spoke. “An old-fashioned? Now you’re going to have to tell me what that is, Mr. Humphries. I don’t think I’ve heard of it before.”
“It’s whiskey with muddled sugar and bitters, and a twist of lemon.”
“Ooh, that sounds good,” she said. “You want house whiskey, or that Makers Mark you usually drink on the rocks?”
“You know me too well, don’t you?” Vaughn seemed pleased that she’d remembered. “Better use the Maker’s Mark. I’m not sure my taste buds would survive the shock if I suddenly changed brands. And you’d better bring Miss Hart a Sea Breeze. I’m not sure it would appear proper for me to drink alone.”
Veronica laughed. “You got it. You know what you want to order?”
Vaughn looked to Bexley. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but she didn’t want to admit that, since that might entail Vaughn wondering why. She ordered the first thing she focused in on. “I’ll have the salmon.”
“You want the regular size, or the petite?”
“Better make it the petite.”
Vaughn ordered the filet, medium-rare, and Veronica left to put their order in. Bexley still wanted to ask him about what Valerie had said — about him dating Hannah and Sophie — but they were interrupted by a tall blonde appearing at their table.
“Vaughn, darling. Imagine my luck running into you here.”
Eleanor Dodson sat in the chair beside Vaughn…uninvited. She wore her hair in a bun, and the crimson color of her tailored silk dress stood out against her tanned skin and golden hair. She had on gold hoop earrings, a ruby and diamond necklace, and four bangle bracelets on her wrist. She looked perfect — amazing really — and acted as if Bexley were invisible, never looking her way…never acknowledging her presence at all. “You can’t imagine what a time it’s been for me,” she said. “What with Annie’s death and all.”
“I’m sure it’s been very difficult.” Vaughn glanced at Bexley apologetically. “You got the flowers I sent to your house?”
“Yes, of course. They were lovely. I was really hoping you’d come by though. It’s been such a trying time, and you know I really could use a shoulder to cry on.”
“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll try to stop by this weekend.”
Whatever words they spoke next were drowned out by the sound of Bexley’s rising temper hammering in her ears. How could he fall for such an obvious ploy? She took a deep breath…hearing Eleanor laugh now, making some joke about how them sitting out on the terrace together was just like old times. Bexley reminding herself that jealousy was unbecoming. Vaughn probably felt cornered…didn’t want to come off as uncaring. Starting a scene at the country club definitely wouldn’t put her in a more positive light. Bexley took a few more breaths, listening to the air pulled into her lungs and released back out. Then re-focusing on Vaughn and Eleanor’s conversation.
“If you come by around seven, we can have dinner,” Eleanor was saying, leaning forward on the table in Vaughn’s direction, chin resting on her hands. “Mom and Dad would love to have you. In fact, I’m sure they’ll insist.”
So she still lived with her parents. It made Bexley want to laugh.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Vaughn said. “But I will drop by to tell them hello. I didn’t get much of a chance to speak with them at the funeral.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Eleanor said. “They understood. It was such a mob scene at Verheyden’s, with everyone trying to pay their respects.” Then letting out a sigh, she said, “Annie had so many friends.”
The waitress came back with their drinks then, during the pause in their conversation. She gave Bexley a look — slightly raising her eyebrows — conveying both sympathy and surprise. “You’ll have to let me know how you like that old-fashioned,” she said to Vaughn. “The bartender says that’s the first one he’s made in five years.” She handed the drink to Vaughn, giving Bexley her Sea Breeze.
Vaughn took a drink and nodded in the girl’s direction. “Tell Fred I said it’s great.”
“I sure will do that.” She hesitated for a moment, before saying, “Your meal should be up soon.”
“Well, I suppose I should be getting back to my table,” Eleanor said, finally getting up.
Bexley had half a mind to tell her it was about damn time. Instead, she watched as Eleanor clicked her heels across the terrace to a table where the three-peas-in-a-pod were sharing a bottle of Burgundy. There was excited chatter as Eleanor rejoined them, and stolen glances in Vaughn’s direction. Bexley could just imagine their conversation — wondering how long before he’d be done with Bexley and back with Eleanor. Probably naming their children.
“Sorry about that,” Vaughn said. “Eleanor has a difficult time taking no for an answer.”
“Probably because no one ever says it to her.” The words blurted out of her, before she had time to censor them, but she wasn’t sorry for them either. And Vaughn laughed.
“You’re right,” he said. “And that’s another reason I ended things with her for good. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life asking how high whenever she said jump, putting up with her arrogant manners, and being expected to put up with every awful, inconsiderate act she felt like indulging in. But I do owe it to her parents to make a personal visit. I barely said five words to them at Annie’s funeral.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Bexley said, wondering as she spoke what the other reasons were for him breaking up with her…thinking about what Nan had said about Eleanor sleeping with Rick the Dick Hamilton, versus what Val had told her about him hitting on Annie…wondering if he’d really been the one to break things off.
She’d known he’d gone to Annie’s funeral. Half the town had. But she’d figured he’d paid his respects, and there wasn’t anything left to be done, no matter how close his mother and Mrs. Dodson were. After all, it wasn’t as if his mother had bothered to cancel her summer tour of Europe to offer comfort and sympathy to her best friend. Why should more be expected of Vaughn? Bexley just didn’t understand. She fantasized an entirely different conversation…one where Vaughn told Eleanor to buzz off the moment she’d tried sitting down.
Bexley pushed the fantasy away, working now to segue into that thing she really wanted to talk to him about. “I’m sure you must feel close to her parents after dating her for so long.”
“It’s not just that,” he said. “I’ve known them my whole life. They’re like an aunt and uncle, or something.”
“Or future in-laws?”
“Really, Bexley?”
The admonishment didn’t sit any better with her than Eleanor’s visit…or Valerie’s gossip, and she offered nothing to him in response. This night was going all wrong.
Their food came then, and they stayed silent for a few minutes, Bexley poking her fork into her salmon, and Vaughn slicing into his stake. When most of their meal had been consumed, Bexley picked back up the conversation. “So is Eleanor the only woman in Grosse Pointe you’ve ever dated?”
“Why do you ask?”
She hated it when people answered a question with another question, and she really hated that he didn’t just say yes or no. “Just wondering,” she said. “And wondering if yo
u’ve dated other women how they handled running into Eleanor.”
Vaughn relaxed, laughing a little, his face softening. “So that’s what’s going on. You’re wondering if there’s a right way or a wrong way to handle Eleanor.”
“That would be nice to know.”
“Trust me. There is no right way to handle Eleanor. She’s far too used to getting her own way. And unfortunately, there’s absolutely nothing you can do or say that’s going to make her be civil to you.”
“Great. So you’ve dated other women in the past, and it didn’t work out so well for them?”
A quick glance at Eleanor, then looking back to Bexley, he said, “It didn’t work out too well for them because I wasn’t really that interested. Eleanor Dodson does not tell me how to run my life.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I like a man who knows his own mind and makes his own decisions.”
“I pretty much figured that. Can’t see any friend of Nan’s ever being happy as a doormat.”
“Well, I’m not quite the powerhouse Nan is, but no, I’m not interested in being a doormat.”
“Good. Then let’s be done talking about Eleanor. Because the only woman here I’m interested in is you.”
He certainly said all the right words that time. Bexley let go of her doubts. Without a confirmation or denial of whether he dated Hannah or Sophie, or hit on Annie, or even bringing up their names, the subject was dropped. Bexley went back to finishing her salmon, sparing one glance at the four-top two tables to her right, smiling as she caught Eleanor staring. Eat your heart out, she thought. She was here to stay…no matter what Eleanor Dodson thought about it.
Chapter Thirteen
Carolyn Dodson Pringle had never stepped foot inside the Grosse Pointe Farms Police Department. And now that she had, she found it every bit as distasteful as she’d imagined. Drab furnishings, worn tile floor, chipped wooden table – cheap wood, too – pine or something – and the smell…like some vague mixture of sweat, tobacco, and Pine Sol. Full of jarring noises. Ringing phones. Office machines beeping and humming. And people talking – really much too loudly. It was as if no one had any sense of decorum.
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