by Leslie Meier
A group of aged veterans, in bits and pieces of uniform, followed the float. They were no longer the trim, young fellows who had marched off to fight in World War II, but they were still standing tall despite potbellies and stiff joints.
Again Lucy and Bill were on their feet, showing respect to these veterans who had saved the world from fascism.
The veterans were followed by a pickup towing a dory on a trailer. The antique wooden dory, beautifully refinished, was filled with kids enrolled in the sailing program at Point Quisset Yacht Club. Mostly the children of wealthy summer folk, the kids were all dressed in matching PQYC polo shirts and blue shorts. With their sun-streaked hair and tans and white teeth, Lucy suspected the sun shone a little brighter on them than on some local children.
This suspicion was confirmed with the appearance of the high school marching band. It was a poor showing since many of the kids couldn’t get away from their summer jobs, and the few who had shown up were dressed in worn and faded polyester uniforms. Sweat was pouring down their faces. But even though the band was offtempo and out of tune, they got an enthusiastic welcome from the crowd.
That welcome turned to silence, and then bursts of raucous laughter, as the next float appeared. Perched on a flatbed trailer towed by a shiny truck tractor was a huge, gleaming white model of Ron Davitz’s yacht. Two men were on the yacht: a yachtsman dressed in a cap and a blue blazer with money bulging from every pocket, and a caricature of Frank Wiggins dressed in a harbormaster’s uniform and a red clown’s wig. The harbormaster figure was on all fours, carrying the yachtsman on his back. Standing by and applauding were five more figures, supposedly the members of the waterways commission. A sign along the side of the trailer read: “LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL—IF THEY CAN PAY.”
Bill nudged Lucy. “Is that Toby?”
Lucy took a closer look, and sure enough, it was Toby under the costume and makeup of the yachtsman.
“So that’s what he’s been up to all those nights at the Bilge.”
“If you ask me, it’s pretty funny,” said Bill.
The float was getting a mixed reaction from the crowd. Vacationers and visitors didn’t quite know what to make of it, but the locals roared their approval. The children in the crowd were having a great time, trying to catch the play money Toby was tossing their way.
Across the street, Lucy caught a glimpse of Frank Wiggins, looking absolutely furious.
“It may be funny,” agreed Lucy, “but I don’t think it’s going to win any prizes.”
“Too bad,” said Bill, handing her one of the bogus bills.
Lucy fingered it thoughtfully. Considering what she knew of Frank Wiggins and Ron Davitz, neither was the type to take such public mockery with a grain of salt. Somebody would pay for this. She hoped it wasn’t going to be Toby.
Chapter Twelve
Lucy felt a little odd as she drove off to the shower Later that day in the Subaru, the wrapped Pyrex bowls set carefully on the passenger seat. The Fourth of July had always been a family holiday with a cookout followed by the fireworks, but this year Elizabeth and Toby had made plans with their friends, and Lucy had been invited to the shower.
Left with only the two younger girls, Bill had accepted an invitation to the Orensteins’ barbecue. Lucy knew they’d have a good time, but she still felt a little guilty about going to the shower all by herself.
On the other hand, she admitted to herself, wild horses couldn’t have kept her away. Sue needed her moral support—that went without saying—but this was also an opportunity to see Thelma in action. Lucy couldn’t begin to imagine what she had planned for the shower. Anything could happen. Entertainment by Chippendale’s? Siegfried and Roy and assorted feline companions? The Rolling Stones dropping by to play an unplugged private concert? Nothing seemed too outrageous for Thelma, given her access to her son’s money and her willingness to spend it.
As she drove, she cast a nervous eye on the sky, where clouds were gathering. The spell of fine weather they’d been enjoying was finally coming to an end; thunderstorms had been forecast, and she hoped they’d hold off until after the fireworks.
When Lucy pulled into the parking lot at the harbor, the Davitzes’ yacht was brightly lit with Christmas lights—even the gangplank was outlined in twinkling white lights. As she drew closer, she could hear the buzz of conversation and the tinkle of piano music. For a moment, she felt like pinching herself. The warm night air, the music, the graceful figures on the deck—she felt as if she had wandered into The Great Gatsby.
Stepping on board the Sea Witch, she was met by a uniformed steward, who welcomed her and relieved her of her gift, placing it with others on a nearby table. She then made her way to the open deck on the stern, where the guests were gathered, and looked for her hostess.
She didn’t find Thelma, but she did see Sue and Sidra and hurried right over, embracing Sidra and giving her a big hug.
“It’s wonderful to see you—and such a happy occasion. You know we all wish you so much happiness.”
“It’s nice to see you, too, Aunt Lucy,” replied Sidra.
Lucy studied her, realizing again just how much she resembled her mother. She had Sue’s neat, petite body and her straight, glossy hair. Her face was softer and plumper than her mother’s; where Sue’s lean features made her striking, Sidra was pretty—even beautiful.
“You look wonderful, a beautiful bride,” said Lucy. “I can’t get over how much you look like your mother.”
“That’s the last thing she wants to hear,” said Sue, an edge to her voice.
“Nonsense. I could’ve done a lot worse.” Sidra sounded as if she were going through the motions, repeating platitudes, thought Lucy, watching as she turned to greet another guest.
“C’mon, I’ll show you where the bar is,” offered Sue.
“Where’s Thelma? I haven’t had a chance to say hi.”
“She was here a minute ago.” Sue shrugged. “Must have flown off on her broomstick.”
Lucy didn’t like the sound of this. She wondered if the mother-and-daughter reunion hadn’t gone quite the way Sue wanted.
“You seem a little upset,” she said. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll have a gin and tonic, light on the tonic,” said Sue, stepping up to the bar. “Lucy, what’ll you have?”
“White wine.”
As soon as the drinks were set before them, Sue tossed hers back in one long swallow and replaced the glass. “I’ll have another.”
Lucy took her hand and realized she was trembling.
“Hold on a minute—tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m a wreck. My God, I need another drink.”
Lucy glanced at the bartender, who had raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Okay,” she said, nodding. “But then you have to tell me what’s wrong.”
Lucy picked up the fresh drink before Sue could grab it and led her to a quiet corner next to the bar. “Talk,” she said, handing her the drink.
Sue took a quavery breath. “The gun—you know, the one I hid—is gone.”
This was the last thing Lucy expected to hear.
“Do you think Sid found it?”
“Who else?”
“Did you ask him about it?”
Sue looked at her as if she were crazy. “I didn’t tell him I hid it, so how could I tell him it was gone.”
“I think you need to talk to him about this.”
“No.” Sue was adamant. Her glass, Lucy noticed, was again empty.
“Now, what are you two doing conspiring in the corners?” demanded Thelma, descending on them in a dress comprised of layers and layers of fluttery chiffon accessorized with ropes and ropes of twinkling stones.
Diamonds? wondered Lucy, embarrassed to be found behaving so unsociably by her hostess.
“Such a lovely party—” she began, only to be interrupted by Sue.
“We were just getting drinks,” she said, turning her back on Thelma and marching to
the bar.
Lucy tried to cover her friend’s rudeness. “Is Ron going to be here tonight?”
It was the wrong thing to say.
“He was supposed to be, but he hasn’t shown up yet.” Thelma was clearly annoyed, but she gave a little chuckle. “Isn’t that just like a man?”
Unbidden, an image of Ron appeared to Lucy. He was clutching his chest, which was bleeding, and Sid was standing over him, holding a smoking gun. Lucy blinked, and found herself staring at Thelma’s raccoon eyes.
“Just like a man,” repeated Lucy.
“Well, I hope he gets here in time to open the presents,” said Thelma, bustling off to welcome a new arrival.
Lucy turned her attention to Sue, who was feeling the effects of her drinks.
“Come on, let’s join the party,” she said, taking Sue by the elbow.
“Let’sh no’,” said Sue, leaning heavily on her arm.
As Lucy led her back to the deck, Lucy wondered how many drinks she’d had. This wasn’t like Sue, who rarely drank more than a glass of white wine at a time. Lucy looked for a chair, noticing that the party had divided into two camps: a cluster of women in pastel dresses represented the home team, while a group dressed almost identically in black sleeveless shifts seemed to be the New Yorkers. Lucy decided to cross the great divide and led Sue to a seat by the New York crowd.
“You must be one of the bridesmaids,” she said, extending a hand to a very thin girl with very long hair. “I’m Lucy Stone, an old friend of the family.”
“How nice,” said the girl, turning around and tossing her hair in Lucy’s face.
“That’s Susanna. She works with Sidra,” said Sue. “C’mon. Let’s go talk to Rachel and Pam.”
Seeing that the New Yorkers had closed ranks around Sidra, Lucy followed Sue’s unsteady progress to the other side of the boat. There, Rachel Goodman and Ted’s wife Pam were chatting with Phyllis.
“You can say what you want about Thelma,” said Rachel in a low voice, “but the woman sure knows how to throw a party.”
“Look at these shrimp.” Phyllis held up a skewer. “They’re huge.”
“And these little crab cakes—delish!” added Pam.
“Good idea,” said Lucy, thinking that Sue could use some solid food.
“Not hungry,” said Sue. “Thirshy.”
Lucy shook her head, and Pam, taking in the situation, grabbed Sue’s other arm.
“C’mon, Sue. Let’s take a turn round the buffet table.”
Between the two of them they got Sue to the table, but when Lucy let go of her arm to reach for a plate, she wriggled away and disappeared into the crowd.
“We tried,” said Pam. “How much has she had?”
“Too much,” said Lucy. “Should I have the bartender cut her off?”
“Not the way she is now. She’d just raise a ruckus. With luck she’ll find a quiet spot and pass out.”
“And if not,” said Lucy, “she’ll raise holy hell.” She studied the lavish buffet and came to a decision. “Whatever happens, I’ll probably need nourishment.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Pam. “Oooh, these stuffed mushrooms are fabulous.”
“Mmm,” agreed Lucy.
“It’s time for the gifts,” announced Thelma, trotting around on her high heels and waving her arms as if she were performing an odd little dance of the seven veils in her layered dress. “Everyone take a seat.”
It took a few minutes for the group to get settled, forming a sort of circle around Sidra. There was still no sign of Ron, and Lucy didn’t blame him. He would have been the only man present and would certainly have felt rather awkward. Thelma clapped and a steward appeared, carrying a tray of gifts. He was followed by another, and another, until the pile of wrapped presents set before Sidra towered above her.
“Oh, my goodness,” exclaimed the bride-to-be, as a little color rose in her cheeks. “This is too much. It’s embarrassing.”
“At least she has the decency to blush,” observed Phyllis, a touch of vinegar in her voice. “Where’s Sue?”
“Sleeping it off, I hope,” said Lucy. She was worried about Sue, but didn’t feel she could absent herself from the group without being conspicuous.
“Now, who’s this from?” Sidra had plucked a large box from the pile and was opening the card. “From Susanna. I know this is going to be lovely.”
“Who is Susanna?” hissed Pam.
“One of the WIBs,” replied Rachel. “Women in black.”
Sidra was pulling the gift from waves of tissue paper, revealing a Cuisinart. Everybody oohed.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have. Thank you so much. . . .”
Sidra was interrupted by Molly Thacher, her old high school friend. “Now, Sidra, what did you do with the bow?”
Sidra fumbled with the discarded wrapping and found the bow.
“What do you want with it?”
“Why, she’s going to make a hat, just like they did at my baby shower,” said Carrie Swift, Chuck’s wife. “They made me the cutest hat by taping all the bows to a paper plate.”
“Oh,” said Sidra, with a conspicuous lack of enthusiasm.
“I’ll make the hat if you just give me a paper plate,” offered Molly.
“Too bad. No paper plates,” said one of the WIBs, throwing her hands in the air.
Molly and Carrie shared a glance.
“Next present,” announced the third WIB, passing a huge box to Sidra.
There were more oohs and aahs when this gift—a crystal punch bowl—was revealed.
“Oh, Lily! It isn’t Waterford, is it?”
Lily smiled demurely and nodded.
“You darling! You shouldn’t have!”
“Darn tootin’ she shouldn’t have,” muttered Phyllis. “What’s Sidra going to do with a white elephant like that?”
Lucy shrugged and bit her tongue. She wasn’t going to tell Phyllis how much that particular white elephant had cost.
“Now, what could this be?”
Sidra was holding up a flat little package, simply wrapped in tissue paper and white, curling ribbon.
“Oh, that’s mine!” exclaimed Molly.
All eyes were on Sidra as she unwrapped the gift: four handwoven potholders in violent shades of purple and pink.
“What are . . .” began one WIB.
“Like you make in camp,” volunteered the second WIB.
“On a little loom!” finished the third, dissolving into helpless giggles.
“I made them myself,” Molly volunteered, puzzled at the reaction to her gift. “I used your favorite colors. Remember, in eighth grade, you said you were going to have an all-pink house?”
“Really, you shouldn’t have,” exclaimed Sidra. From her tone, it seemed clear she wasn’t pleased to be reminded of her childhood excesses.
“No expense spared!” hooted the first WIB.
“One hundred percent synthetic!” added another.
“Your favorite colors!” shrilled the third.
“Well, I think they’re very pretty,” Carrie said, patting Molly’s hand.
Molly’s head was bowed and Lucy hoped she wasn’t crying. They’re not worth your tears, she wanted to tell her.
“Ah, a present from Kat . . . I bet it’s going to be naughty,” said Sidra as she untied the bow and lifted the top off the next box. When she saw what was inside, she shrieked.
“What could it be?” Pam wondered aloud.
“A sexy nightie?” Lucy guessed.
“Not quite,” Rachel said drily as Sidra held up a black leather mask, a whip, and a pair of gloves.
“It’s the whole outfit,” volunteered Kat. “Just in case Ron gets out of hand.”
The women on the boat were silent. Even Thelma seemed at a loss for words, choosing instead to fan herself with a napkin.
“What size do these come in, anyway?” asked one of the WIBs.
“Mean, meaner and meanest,” replied Kat, sending Sidra and the other WIBs
into gales of laughter.
Lucy decided to take advantage of the moment to slip away and look for Sue. She found her, predictably, at the bar. Perched on a stool, she was telling the bartender all about her troubles.
“Jusht don’ reck, reckanize my own daughter,” said Sue, shaking her head sadly. “The lil girl I raised wouldn’t ack like thish.”
“How’s it going?” asked Lucy, taking the seat beside her.
“Know tha’ movie—Vasion of the Body Sna-snashhers? Thass wha’s happened. They’ve snashed Sidra. She looksh like Sidra and talksh like Sidra, but she’s not.”
From what Lucy had seen, she thought Sue might be on to something. “Did you talk to her about the wedding plans?”
Sue nodded and drained the last of her drink.
“She sez whatever Thelma wansh is fine with her—doesn’t want to alee—aleenate her mother”—Sue hiccuped—“in-law.” She passed her drink to the bartender. “Fill ’er up.”
In response to his glance, Lucy mouthed the word “tonic.” He nodded in understanding and made the drink without adding any gin.
Sue took a swallow and Lucy held her breath.
“Mmm, good,” said Sue.
“C’mon,” said Lucy, standing up. “Let’s go up to the top deck and get a good spot for the fireworks. They’ll be starting soon.”
“Goo’ idea.”
Sue wasn’t too steady on her feet, but Lucy managed to get her up the stairs and out into the fresh air. From below, they could hear the women’s voices as Sidra worked her way through the pile of presents, but they had the upper deck to themselves. Lucy led Sue to a pair of deck chairs by the railing and they sat down, looking out over the harbor. A crowd had gathered in the parking lot and on the hills around the harbor, but Lucy and Sue couldn’t see them from where they sat. A few boats bobbed about, filled with people waiting for the fireworks to start, but for the most part the harbor was dark and peaceful. The water gleamed black with silver reflections from the lights on the boats. Anytime now the fireworks would start.
Lucy noticed Sue’s head drooping. At last, she was finally drifting off. Sitting beside her, Lucy took a moment to reflect. She could imagine how she would feel if Elizabeth behaved as Sidra had, and how horrified she would be if her college friends turned out to be like the WIBs. Lucy clucked her tongue, watching as a single rocket screamed into the night sky and exploded in a burst of light—a blossom of fiery sparks that bloomed and faded.
