“Gran, this is Kendra Smith.” Adam draped an arm over his grandmother’s shoulder. “Kendra, this is my grandmother, Alice McGovern.”
“Good to meet you, Mrs. McGovern.” Kendra flashed her best smile.
“Good to meet you as well.” Adam’s grandmother smiled back. “Now, come in, come in. I thought we’d have time for tea before we go over to Kelly’s.”
Alice McGovern opened the door and waited for them to enter the dark, cool foyer.
“Come on back to the kitchen”—Mrs. McGovern bustled past her visitors—“the water is all ready. And I made some of those raspberry cookies you love, Adam.”
“Gran, do you think we have time for tea?”
Alice turned and glared at her grandson.
“Oh, right.” Adam nodded. “Tea it is.”
Kendra followed into a small, all-white kitchen that was surprisingly modern and equipped with all new appliances.
“I had to hide them from Alex and Melanie, of course, those two buggers are always into my pantry.”
“Alex and Melanie are my sister’s kids,” Adam explained. “They live a half-dozen doors down on the opposite side of the street, which is where the wedding is going to be.”
“They stay here after school until Kelly or her husband, Scott, gets home from work, whoever gets home first gets the kids. They’re only here for two hours or so in the afternoon, but they do keep me moving. I spend my days resting up for three o’clock when the school bus lets them off.”
The entire time Alice McGovern spoke, she was in motion, albeit somewhat slow motion, pouring tea into the teapot and then into the cups that had already been arranged on the kitchen table, set for tea for three, with porcelain cups and saucers and matching plates.
“Adam, you pull that chair out for your lady friend and show your manners,” she instructed.
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, then held a chair out for her as well, and remained standing until both women were seated.
“Now, then, we can have a nice little chat and get acquainted before we go to the wedding.” Mrs. McGovern nodded. “Kendra, Adam tells me you’re an artist.”
“A sketch artist, yes.”
“Lovely.” Alice passed Kendra the plate of fruit-filled sandwich cookies with hands distorted by arthritis. “Do you do landscapes or portraits?”
“I guess you could call them portraits.”
“Kendra does composite drawings, Gran. For law enforcement agencies. She’ll interview witnesses and then make a drawing.”
“Oh, like that one I saw on the news the other night? That man who’s been killing all those poor girls down near Philadelphia?”
“Yes, exactly like that.” Adam sipped at his tea, which he never drank, except when he was here. He wasn’t particularly fond of the beverage, but tea with his gran was a ritual left over from his high school days, and he’d never let on.
“Actually, that was my sketch,” Kendra said, wondering why Adam had neglected to add that.
The woman’s face went white. “Why, I can’t believe they’d let a pretty little thing like you get that close to a monster like him.”
“No, no, Mrs. McGovern, I don’t have to get anywhere near him. I just talk to people who have seen him, and they tell me what he looked like, and I try to draw him from their descriptions,” Kendra assured her. “I never get close to him.”
“She tries to make the picture look enough like the suspect so that if someone sees that person, they will recognize him and call the police.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Adam’s grandmother did look relieved. “I’d hate to think about you having to meet face-to-face with those awful people. I used to worry something fierce about Adam, until they gave him that nice desk job.”
Desk job? Kendra mouthed the words silently.
Adam winked.
“Now, tell me how you learned how to draw faces like that? It’s an odd profession for a woman,” she frowned, then added hastily, “though I’m sure you’re quite good at it.”
“I’ve always been interested in faces.” Kendra suppressed a smile. “And I’ve always liked to draw. It just seemed natural to combine the two.”
“Did you go to art school, to learn how to draw faces?”
“No. I did have some formal art courses in college, but I really taught myself. I used to sketch the people sitting near me in class, and my neighbors, and the girls in the dorm. I’d go to Ocean City—that’s on the New Jersey shore—and sit on the boardwalk, and draw the people who walked by. When I got older and was looking for a career, I was lucky to be able to find one that let me use that ability.” Kendra left out the parts about her brother and the fact that her well-connected stepfather had opened the door for her first freelance job for the FBI. She had completely understood that while his influence had gotten her the opportunity, subsequent assignments would not be forthcoming if she didn’t get the job done. But there was no point in going into any of this with Adam’s grandmother. She merely said, “I was lucky to get referrals to other law enforcement agencies, but most of my work has been for the FBI.”
“Gran, we’re going to need to change for the wedding.” Adam touched his grandmother on the arm. “I’ll run out to the car and get our things so we can leave on time. I don’t think Dad would appreciate his best man being late.”
“I do appreciate punctuality,” Alice McGovern said to Kendra as Adam left the room. “Especially for an occasion like this. Why, I expect I’ll see some people I haven’t seen since Lynnie died.”
“Lynnie?”
“My daughter. Adam’s mother.”
“Oh.”
“Seven years come August, it will be. Can’t hardly believe it’s been that long, myself, but there it is.”
“Did you have other children, Mrs. McGovern?”
“No, just the one daughter.” The woman’s face brightened. “But she was enough. She was a treasure. A joy, every day of her life. It was the saddest day of my life, the day I buried her. Sadder than losing my husband, and he died when I was only thirty-one.”
“So you raised her alone, for the most part.”
“She was seven when her father died. Mostly, it was just me and her, until she married Frank. I missed her from the day she left to get married. I still miss her. She was my best friend, Lynnie was.”
“I know exactly how you feel.” Kendra touched her arm gently. “I lost my father when I was young. And my mother and I were very close.”
“And she has passed on?”
“Four years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” Mrs. McGovern took Kendra’s hands and folded them within her own.
“Thank you.” Kendra fought back the lump that had unexpectedly formed in her throat.
“Kendra,” Adam called from the front of the house, “I have your things here. You should probably run upstairs and change now. Gran, is the guest room all right for Kendra to use?”
“Yes, dear,” she called back to him, “it’s always ready for company.”
Kendra stood, her teacup in hand. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. McGovern.”
“It was my pleasure, dear.”
The old woman watched approvingly as the younger woman rinsed her teacup and saucer at the sink, then set it upon the counter before leaving the room. She heard Adam’s voice in the foyer as he gave Kendra instructions on which room upstairs she could use and where the bathroom was, and she smiled to herself. Adam was the undisputed apple of her eye. It had been so very long since he’d brought a girl home, and it was time he settled down. The whole family was eager to meet her. And Kendra did seem like such a nice girl, Alice thought as she rinsed her cup and Adam’s and placed them on the counter next to Kendra’s.
The arthritis in her hip had been acting up again, and she’d decided that she’d use her cane this afternoon. Not that the hip was that bad, but as an accessory, the cane served more than one purpose. She wasn’t above seeking a sympathetic audience when she could get one, and
today, for certain, she’d have all the attention she could hope for.
“Gran, I’m just going to duck into your room to change if that’s okay.” Adam peered around the door frame.
“Go right ahead, dear.” Alice nodded, then went into the dining room where she straightened a bowl of roses, killing time until she heard him open the door and step back into the hallway. She called to him to join her. She’d been hoping for a few minutes alone with him to speak her piece on an issue that she felt needed discussing.
“My, don’t you look handsome in that dark suit.” She smiled as she fussed about the knot in his tie, which, while perfect, was never too perfect that she couldn’t fuss over it all the same. “And I’m so happy that you agreed to be your father’s best man. It means a lot to him, son. He wants so badly for you to be all right with his marriage to Clare.”
“Being his best man doesn’t necessarily mean that I approve, Gran.”
“He’s your father, Adam. He doesn’t need your approval.”
“Ouch.” He smiled in spite of himself. Few people had the ability to put things into perspective the way his grandmother did.
“Tell me, son,” she leaned upon her cane, “would you feel the same way if your father was marrying someone other than Clare?”
“Maybe not. I guess it does bother me that she was friends with Mom for all those years.” He hesitated for a moment. “All those months she was around when Mom was sick . . .”
“Do you think she had an ulterior motive, then? All those times she stopped in to see your mother, you think she was just waiting for her to die so she could move into her life?”
“Gran, that’s a terrible thing to say!” Adam stared at his grandmother in disbelief.
“Well, that appears to be your implication.”
“Are you happy about this wedding?”
“It doesn’t matter whether I am or not. The only person who has to be happy is your father. I personally never cared much for Clare, but I’m not the one marrying her. If she can make your father happy, share his life in a way that matters to him, that’s what counts.”
He started to reply when he heard Kendra coming down the steps.
“We’re in here, dear,” Alice called to her before Adam could open his mouth. “In the dining room.”
She moved closer to the china cupboard, where all manner of objects were displayed.
“Now, are you a Hummel collector?” she asked Kendra.
“Hummel?” Kendra looked through the glass door of the cupboard at the rows of cherub-faced figurines, then shook her head. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, good.” Alice pretended to fan herself with one hand to show her relief. “I already promised them to Kelly, you know. But I have some lovely Depression glass that you and Adam might like.”
Alice opened the cupboard door and reached for a pale pink glass sherbet dish. Kendra, wide-eyed, turned to give Adam a questioning look, which he pretended not to notice.
“We don’t have to divvy up the McGovern heirlooms today, Gran,” Adam teased. “Besides, it’s almost three. We need to get moving along here.”
He pulled the curtain back from the window.
“The wedding guests are already arriving,” he pointed out. “I saw Mrs. Dowell and Mrs. Eberly.”
“Oh, well, then, let’s do get moving.” She closed the china cupboard door. Her step was spry as she went into the hallway in search of her handbag, with the cane, apparently forgotten, tucked under one arm. “Come along, Adam, you’ll have to help me down the steps, but I dare say I’ll be fine from there.”
The home of Kelly and Scott Lister, Adam’s sister and brother-in-law, was a short walk away, though the uneven sidewalk required a bit of care on the part of Alice McGovern and therefore the walk took a few minutes longer than it might otherwise. Adam’s sister’s bungalow was similar in design and construction to that of their grandmother’s. Today the house was decorated, from the front porch straight through to the backyard, with white and yellow streamers, white crepe paper wedding bells, and white and yellow balloons. A yellow-and-white-frosted cake sat on the dining room sideboard next to a stack of white paper plates adorned with yellow roses. Bowls and vases of yellow roses abounded.
“I take it Clare is fond of yellow,” Kendra noted.
“Apparently,” Adam said out of the corner of his mouth as they made their way through the dining room to the kitchen, where his father nervously peered through the curtain that hung on the window over the sink, giving him a clear view into the backyard.
“Adam!” his father exclaimed, putting down the water he’d been drinking from a clear plastic cup to embrace his son. “Just in time! I told Kelly you’d be here on time!”
Frank Stark was a full head shorter than his son and outweighed him by a good thirty pounds. His light brown hair had thinned over the years until he was almost bald on the top and front of his head. He wore wire-framed glasses, a crisp white shirt, and dark navy suit. Looking at him, Kendra could see Adam in twenty-five years, less the paunch.
“I was afraid you’d be too busy down there with that Super-mom Strangler to stand for your old man.”
“I’d never be too busy to stand for you, Dad.” Adam hugged his father, then leaned forward to whisper, “Er, Dad, Gran thinks I have a desk job, and actually, I think they’re calling him the Soccer Mom Strangler.”
“She thinks you . . .” Frank stepped back, frowning.
“She was worried about me getting shot, like the FBI agents do on TV sometimes, so when she asked me if I couldn’t ask for a desk job, I said sure.”
“But this new serial killer down there in the southern part of the state, you’re working on that?”
Adam nodded and accepted a hug from his sister, who greeted him with a peck on the cheek before introducing herself to Kendra.
“Wow, you are pretty. Adam didn’t exaggerate. Love that shade of lavender, it’s perfect with your hair.” Kelly nodded. “You know, the whole family’s just dying to meet you.”
“They are?” asked Kendra. “Why?”
“Oh, you know.” Kelly nudged her with an elbow. “Everyone’s curious.”
“About what?” Kendra frowned.
“Ah, I think the bride is here.” Adam tapped Kelly on the shoulder. “How ’bout if I take Gran out to the garden and seat her, and try to get everyone else seated as well?”
“Good idea. I see Father Patrick has just arrived.” Kelly paused at the back door. “Doesn’t the yard look beautiful? We planted a dozen new rosebushes just so Dad and Clare could have their rose garden wedding.”
“You did a wonderful job, sweetheart.” Adam kissed his younger sister on the temple. “The arbor looks spectacular. And the house looks great.”
“Thanks, Adam.” Kelly beamed, then snapped to. “Okay. Take Gran out. You might want to take Kendra out, too. Where’s Uncle Joe? And the kids . . . where are the kids? Alex? Melanie?”
Kelly hustled herself out the back door in search of her family.
“Gran?” Adam offered his arm. “I think they’re almost ready.”
“Well, then, Kendra, if you’d hold the door open for me, and Adam, if you’ll let me lean a bit, I think we can navigate the back steps . . . yes, that’s just fine. . . .”
When all had gathered in the garden and taken their seats on the folding chairs set up for the purpose, someone played a taped version of the traditional wedding march as Clare Tilton, in pale yellow chiffon, joined Frank Stark at the rose-covered arbor where they exchanged vows in a brief ceremony. The couple turned to greet their guests and were showered with yellow rose petals, which seemed to signal the end of the solemnity of the day.
Almost immediately, a band set up in one corner of the yard, a bar in another, and the party began.
By the end of the evening, Kendra’s head was spinning. She’d met most of the residents of Hopewell, held most of the babies under two, and fielded incessant questions about her and Adam’s nuptial plans. She wanted t
o strangle him.
Once she’d acknowledged that she had no family, Kendra found herself at the mercy of Adam’s aunt Jackie, Frank’s sister, who insisted on helping to plan the “wedding,” “Since your mother—God rest her soul, I’m sure—isn’t here to help.” Within minutes, Jackie was searching her handbag for a small notebook, writing up the guest list and offering suggestions for the reception to a startled Kendra.
Adam’s brother-in-law was passing out plastic flutes of champagne for a toast right about the same time that Jackie began hinting that Jessica, her three-year-old granddaughter, would make the most adorable flower girl.
“I think everyone is gathering to toast the newlyweds,” Kendra noted, infinitely grateful for the opportunity to escape Aunt Jackie and her lists.
“We’ll chat later.” Jackie patted Kendra’s back. “You’ll need to know which halls have the best caterers. . . . I’m assuming of course that the wedding will be here, since you said you have no family.”
“Everyone, quiet,” Kelly announced unceremoniously, “Adam is going to make a toast.”
“Friends, family,” Adam began, meeting his father’s eyes. His grandmother’s words played over inside his head, and he knew that she was right. Whatever brought his father happiness should be accepted for what it was, without judgment. He couldn’t change the events of the past few years, couldn’t bring his mother back, couldn’t stop his father from falling in love with another woman, regardless of when that happened. And he, Adam, didn’t have to love Clare. But he did have to respect the fact that his father did.
“We’re here to celebrate a happy occasion,” Adam said solemnly. “After all these years of chasing her, Dad finally caught up with Clare. We suspect she may have had to slow down a bit for him . . .”
Chuckles from the crowd.
“. . . but we’re glad that she did. Dad, we’re happy that you found someone to share your life with. Clare, welcome to the family.” Adam raised his glass, as did all gathered in the room. “Long life, love, and much joy.”
“Here, here . . .”
“Thank you, son,” Frank Stark said softly as the well-wishers sipped at their champagne. “I appreciate what you said . . . for Clare especially. It means a lot to me . . . and I know it means a lot to her.”
Until Dark Page 16
