Murder and Mischief in the Hamptons

by T. L. Ingham

Chapter Twelve

  I was right. Olivia was still annoyed with me. A thing she made quite clear upon her arrival. "The miserable medium is here!" she announced.

  "Whatever are you talking about?" Pia asked her.

  Olivia pointed at me. "Ask her, if you really want to know."

  Pia turned an icy stare on me. "What did you do?"

  "Yes," Gloria chimed in. "Whatever did you do to suck the wind out of the blowhard's sails? I spent a lot of years trying to put her in her place and never succeeded quite like it looks like you have. I even slept with her husband. Which I don't think you did. Did you?"

  "Don't be disgusting."

  "Gloria! Now is not the time!" Pia caught on right away. "Reid, is there something you'd like to tell me?"

  Somehow I felt like a small child being lectured by her parent. Her very angry parent. I wondered if I was about to be grounded. Which considering my life of late, wasn't really posing much of a threat.

  "Reid?" she prompted.

  "I didn't do anything. And there's not really much to tell." I was rapidly trying to come up with a way to save myself and Olivia too. What Olivia hadn't realized was that I'd had no intention of blowing her cover. I had no interest in becoming the resident medium and was more than happy for Olivia to continue playing that role. If I told Pia what I knew, it was bound to ruin Olivia.

  "She called me a fra-"

  "Frog! I called her a frog!" I interrupted. A frog? Really? That was the best I could come up with?

  "You called her a frog?!" Pia was appalled.

  Olivia was mystified.

  "Well, not on purpose. It was when I was in the hospital. I was on all those sedatives and the pain medicine. They really mess with your brain."

  "Still. A frog? Why on earth would you call someone a frog?"

  "I don't know. I wasn't seeing very clearly when she came into the room and I-" I dwindled off here. How the hell was I supposed to explain this?

  It was Olivia who came to my rescue. "I was suffering from lower back pain that day and I was kind of hunched over. That and my coat, I suppose the shape somewhat resembled-"

  "Your fur coat resembled an amphibian?" Pia inquired, adopting about as doubtful an air as one could assume. Hey, she doesn't aspire to be Sherlock for nothing.

  "She was drugged, Pia! Stoned. Out of her head." Olivia shambled over to me and hugged me in a very motherly fashion. A smothering, motherly fashion, but nonetheless kind. "I forgive you, dear. You had just experienced quite a trauma and you were not yourself."

  I hugged her back. "No, Olivia, I wasn't. I truly am sorry."

  And I was. She might be a charlatan, but it wasn't meant in a malicious way. She simply took the information (muddled as it was) that her husband provided her and ran with it. Why it was that she could only speak to Jean-Luc and no one else was anyone's guess, but the services she provided were in an effort to restore comfort, not to swindle anyone out of their money. She was wealthy enough in her own right; she could spend the rest of her life not working and never do without for even a minute.

  And for now at least, she was the only one who could help me.

  Pia was still suspicious, but seeing peace restored, she let it go, and quickly brought Olivia up to speed on what had happened. Olivia also mentioned her suspicions that Cecilia might now be connected to me. Pia was horrified at the notion that the car accident might not really have been an accident and insisted that something be done immediately

  And so it was that Olivia performed another cleansing on the house and then deciding with the nearby construction zone possibly causing a 'disturbance in the force' (I swear that's what she said, Obi Wan), she drove us to her home to perform the ritual on me. I half expected to be sprinkled with the blood of a sacrificial lamb and was pleasantly surprised to find out it involved nothing more gruesome than stinky herbs.

  There were no more appearances from Cecilia for the next week, whether that was due to the cleansing ritual or the fact that she knew she had crossed a major line was anyone's guess, but whatever the reason, I was glad for her absence. Alex was also avoiding me, leaving me only Gloria to contend with. Primarily she hounded me wanting information about what I had done to upset Olivia, which of course I never gave her. Obviously she wasn't falling for the frog ruse.

  Pia spent the week in a flurry of motion, juggling work at the gallery with final preparations for my birthday party, as well as preparing for the upcoming visit from my parents. I was still worried about how I was going to explain my hair to them, but Pia kept brushing me off saying, "Don't worry. It will all work out, you'll see!"

  The excavation crew had dug a humungous hole, far bigger than anything I had anticipated, and then, due to the inclement weather predicted for the weekend, had covered the whole thing in an enormous tarp and roped it off with bright yellow Caution tape. Mike had promised Pia to be back bright and early Monday morning to start pouring the foundation, seeming a little disappointed that she wouldn't allow him to continue working throughout the weekend.

  It was the night of my party and I was standing in my room wondering what I was going to wear, when Pia rapped on my door and then entered without waiting for an invitation. Pure Pia. She had a garment bag draped over one shoulder and was balancing two boxes in her other hand. One I recognized as the box with the tiara in it that Robert had given me so long ago.

  "What's that?" I asked indicating the garment bag.

  "It's your costume," Gloria suddenly floated through the wall. "And just wait until you see it!"

  "Why, it's your costume of course. You can't be the belle of your own ball without the appropriate costume, now can you?"

  "I wasn't going to wear a costume. I was just planning on wearing my own clothes."

  "And go as what? A relocated farm girl? Or better yet, an accident waiting to happen? Honestly, girl, sometimes I don't know what you're thinking."

  "That's just mean," I admonished to which she just shrugged.

  "There's a fine line between mean and honest, darling, get used to it. Now, let's get a move on. Your parents will be here any minute and you need to be ready when they get here."

  She laid the garment bag on the bed, set the tiara box next to it, and turned to stare at me thoughtfully. "I wonder what they're going to be?"

  "Probably a dairy farmer and his wife," I muttered.

  "You don't think they would do that, do you? I mean, not come in costume to their only daughter's masquerade ball?"

  I tried to envision my father in some get-up. I really did. But it wasn't possible. He wasn't the type of man to play dress up. "Considering this isn't the turn of the century which was probably the last time anyone was invited to a masquerade ball-"

  "The turn of the century wasn't all that long ago, dear," Pia reminded me.

  "You know what I mean. This kind of thing was popular in the early nineteen-hundreds. But now?"

  "It's still quite popular in the Hamptons."

  "Maybe so, but not in Pawling."

  Pia frowned. "No one ever dresses up? Really?"

  "Not unless they're trick-or-treating. And they're usually ten."

  "How un-fun!"

  I shrugged. "It's how it is. Anyway, what's in the bag?"

  Even now Gloria was sticking her face through the garment bag in an attempt to get another look. Disturbing really.

  "Stop that!" I told her.

  "What? It's not like I haven't already seen it," she protested.

  "It just looks so- so unsettling," I told her.

  "Gloria?" Pia asked.

  "Who else," I sighed. "She's sticking her face through the garment bag and it just looks wrong!"

  "Gloria, knock it off. We'll get to that in a minute. But first," Pia thrust the second box at me. "Open it! I got you a gift."

  Since it was my birthday, I wasn't in the least suspicious. Although, as soon as I opened the box I realized I should have been. "Hair? You got me a box of hair?"

  "Not just any hair. Don't you rec
ognize it? That's your hair!"

  Pia was excited.

  Gloria was put off. "That's gross."

  "Really? You stick your face through an object so that half of it disappears and that's okay, but a box of hair is gross? Your perspective is a little skewed." Then turning to Pia I said, "Still, I have to say I'm a bit confused. Why would you save my hair? To remind me of what I lost? I get to see that every day when I look in the mirror. I don't need my hair in a box to remind me."

  Having realized that I wasn't putting it together, Pia reached into the box and pulled out two hair pieces. The first had my hair coiled into an elaborate bun and the second was a simple ponytail. "I commissioned Roberto to make these. He said there wasn't quite enough of your own hair, so he did have to mix some other hair into it, but I think he did a brilliant job of hiding it and color matching it. Don't you?" She turned the pieces to and fro so that I might get a better look at them.

  "I still don't get it."

  Gloria gave an exasperated sigh. "Sometimes you are too stupid for words."

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome, of course, darling," Pia said, "but do you still need me to explain? Now I'm confused."

  "The, 'thank you,' was for Gloria. She was insulting me as usual. It was sarcasm."

  "Oh."

  "Why are you being so dense?" Apparently Gloria hadn't insulted me enough. "Don't you see? Pia got you the hair pieces so that you could hide the fact that your hair's been cut from your parents."

  At the same time Gloria was saying this, Pia was saying, "Darling, the hair pieces are meant to hide the fact that your hair has been cut. You wear the bun with your costume and the ponytail the rest of the week and your parents will never know!"

  Somehow, even with the two of them speaking at the same time, I managed to get the gist of what they were saying. "Ooohhhh!"

  "How did you ever manage to get through college, is what I’d like to know," Gloria rolled her eyes.

  "Why don't you stick your entire head in the garment bag, Gloria, and do us a favor and leave it there."

  "I wasn't the one acting the imbecile," was all she said.

  I hugged Pia and thanked her and then waited impatiently while she pinned the bun to my head and styled my existing hair around it. When she was done it looked identical to when my hair had been long. It brought tears to my eyes it was so believable.

  Tentatively I touched the bun, ignoring the tears slipping from my eyes. "I just can't believe it, Pia. It looks so real."

  "Don't be such a sap!" Leave it to Gloria to ruin a moment.

  Pia wiped her own tears away saying, "Now, none of that. There's simply no time to waste! Let's get you into your costume so you can get downstairs and then I'll go get myself ready."

  She pulled an elaborate gown from the garment bag. It was so stunning it very nearly took my breath away. It was a pale blue, off-the-shoulder ball gown with a full skirt, made of satin and lace, and layers upon layers of ruffles and ruching. Tiny pearls and bits of glitter shone from every tuck; embroidery so detailed it would cross your eyes covered the entirety of the formfitting bodice and trimmed nearly every ruffle. It was obvious I would be the Cinderella of the ball. Which made Pia my fairy godmother. Weird.

  Pia helped me into the crinoline and then the gown and then finished me off with the tiara. I barely recognized myself when I looked into the mirror. I was breathtaking to say the least.

  "Oh, Pia! Thank you! I can never say thank you enough!" I spun around once again taking in my reflection with awe.

  "Don't do that too much. You'll get dizzy and fall down and I'm not sure you could withstand any more head injuries." I was too happy to pay any attention to Gloria's continued sniping.

  "I was so worried that it wouldn't get done in time," Pia was saying. "I considered a rental, but after talking with Robert we both agreed that having it custom made would be so much better. And since Karma already had your measurements, it was simple enough."

  Karma was the woman who owned the dress shop where Pia took me to buy all my clothes for the gallery after she hired me.

  "Did Karma do this?"

  "She had one of her designers draw it up and then it took three or four women to finish it."

  "It must have cost a lot. Too much! Pia, you shouldn't have!"

  "My dear, to see you smile the way you are now, it was worth every cent. You haven't had a lot to smile about lately. Besides, it's your birthday present!"

  I shook my head. I just didn’t know what to say.

  Pia kissed me on the cheek and then headed out of the room. "I'll see you downstairs!"

  Thankfully, Gloria followed her.

  I spent a few minutes just spinning in front of the mirror and checking myself out at every angle. Conceited, I know. But I couldn't seem to look away.

  That's when Alex popped into the room and let out a long, low whistle.

  "How do ghosts do that without air?" I asked.

  He shrugged. "Same as talking. We more think it than do it. It's hard to explain. Anyway, you look fabulous!"

  "Thank you!" I pirouetted for him. "Can you believe this dress? Pia commissioned it from Karma. It all feels like a dream!"

  Alex was eyeing my exposed shoulders, not to mention the daring décolletage. "Well, Cinderella, it doesn't look like a dream to me. More like reality on steroids."

  If he hadn't been a ghost, I might have been creeped out by the lascivious grin.

  Instead, I brought the conversation round to his least favorite subject. "Where have you been hiding out lately? I haven't seen you since Cecilia's last visit."

  "I've been keeping an eye on the guest house. Protecting your property and all that."

  "Uh-huh. Well, I seem to recall, when we last spoke, you were about to explain the deal regarding Cecilia."

  "Don't you have a party to get to?"

  "I got time. Explain."

  He pouted. "Come on, Reid. I've been bored out of my mind lately with you gone. The guest house is empty again and there's no one to talk to. I only popped over for a visit and to join in the festivities. Can't you cut me a break?"

  "Whose fault is it that you've been so bored? Not mine. I told you to hang out over here, but no, you're not willing to hang around for fear Cecilia will pop in. So what's the story, morning glory?"

  "I don't want to get into it."

  "News flash, pal, I know you haven't been telling me the truth for a long time and I'm over it. Now what's the word on the bird? I want the scandal on the spirit, the scoop on the specter, the poop on the poltergeist. School me on the ghoul. Give me the lowdown on the legend. Call it what you will, but get talking."

  He raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing.

  "Hey, I can do this all night. Fill me in on the phantom. Enlighten me on the eidolon."

  "Eidolon?"

  "Ghost in ancient Greek literature. Didn't you ever read Homer?"

  "Hardly."

  "Doesn't matter. You're avoiding. What's the blather on the banshee-?"

  And poof- he was gone.

  Figures. He was a liar and a coward. Alex, king of the sidestep.

  I spent a few more minutes admiring myself in the mirror and when I finally was able to pry my conceited self away to go downstairs, I discovered a few people had already arrived. Robert and Dane were there of course, dressed as, of all things, Laurel and Hardy. Upon seeing me, Dane immediately stretched his suspenders and gave me the shy grin for which Hardy was famous. Meanwhile, Robert bustled up to me, spun me around and said, "Gorgeous! Simply gorgeous!"

  "And you're looking mighty handsome as well, Ollie!"

  He removed his bowler, licked his hand, flattened his hair and eyebrows then returned the bowler to his round head. "A lot of weather we've been having lately," he said then twiddled his tie.

  "Love it!" I told him.

  "Your parents are in the other room," he told me. "And I know your mother's just dying to see you."

  "You didn't tell her anything,
did you?"

  He performed a lip-zipping motion then said, "My lips are sealed!"

  "Thank you," I breathed and went to find my parents, who as it turned out, had come dressed precisely as I had predicted- a dairy farmer and his wife. How original.

  Fifteen minutes of hugging and exclaiming over how beautiful I looked took place then- mostly from my mother of course- but I could tell Dad was proud too, before some of the other guests began to arrive.

  First to come was Olivia, who was dressed as an overly large Marie Antoinette. This could only have been funnier if ghosts could change their physical appearance and Jean-Luc had come as Louis XIV. Even without it though, she was hysterical, unintentional as it may be. I wondered where on earth she had managed to find a Marie Antoinette costume in such a large size.

  When Mike arrived, he had taken the easy way out by wearing jeans, construction boots, a work shirt and a hard hat. I was a little disappointed. As was Robert who sidled up to him saying, "So where are the rest of the Village People?" If Mike was offended, he didn't show it.

  I hadn't even known Pia had invited him. I hope she wasn't still holding out hope of the two of us making a love connection and, concerned about a repeat performance of Jase's attitude the other night, I steered clear of him as much as possible.

  Maya and her husband came as well, dressed as a 1920's gangster and a flapper. They made an adorable pair and I told them so. We chatted for some time, nibbling on hors d'oeuvres and sipping champagne being offered by the catering staff Pia had hired for the evening. The food was delicious, which I completely expected since Jaques was running the kitchen, and I found myself filling up quickly, eager to try everything available.

  During the time I had spent talking to Maya, even more people had arrived. Looking around the room I spotted Zoe dressed as Lady Gaga talking to Giorgio who had come as Prince (or the Unknown Artist, or glottal stop, or whatever it is he calls himself these days). Simone wasn't far away, scantily dressed as Cleopatra, with little more than strips of turquoise and gold cloth covering her bosom and a heavy gold necklace and arm bands completing the outfit. I was tempted to offer her an asp. She was all but clinging to Mike, who seemed to be returning her attentions with nearly the same eagerness she was displaying. Judging by the way his piercing gaze kept assaulting the miles of flaunted cleavage, I half expected the two of them to disappear for awhile to one of the rooms upstairs. I only hoped it wouldn't be mine.

  Even Karma from the dress shop was there, dolled up as Mae West, and chatting to Roberto from the hair salon who seemed to be dressed as Danny Zuko from Grease. Pia and Robert had obviously been very careful to invite everyone and anyone who had ever crossed my path. I half expected to see the doctor from the hospital, they had been so thorough.

  Gloria was in attendance as well and spent most of her time bobbing from guest to guest, eavesdropping on the various conversations. When the night was over, she should be filled to the brim with the latest gossip. At least that would keep her happy for a day or two.

  Alex and Cecilia were nowhere to be seen, which didn't really surprise since one (with any luck) had been cleansed or barred or whatever the correct term was, and the other was avoiding me.

  I was hanging out by the punch bowl (conveniently set near a large arrangement of hors d'oeuvres trays) watching while Pia played her role of hostess to the hilt, weaving her way throughout the room with Bernard at her side. The two made a striking couple, dressed as Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel from The Lord of the Rings.

  I was reaching for another appetizer when Gloria joined me. "Keep eating those and you'll pop right out of that dress. And not in a good way either."

  I frowned at her, but returned the hors d'oeuvre to the tray.

  "Whatever are you doing, dear?" Pia scolded as she joined us. "You simply don't put food back after you've touched it. Where are your manners?"

  "Sorry," I said lamely.

  "Speaking of manners, wherever is that boyfriend of yours? Honestly, he's beginning to annoy me."

  "I live to serve," Jase said coming up behind us.

  Pia eyed him, dressed in his regular clothes, and said, "Nice costume, Jase. What are you? A plain clothes detective?"

  "Not a bad idea. And one I had considered." Turning to me, he gave me a quick kiss and said, "Happy Birthday, babe. You look gorgeous!"

  "Thank you," I blushed.

  "My clothes are in the car," Jase went on to explain. "I didn't know if there was somewhere that I could change?"

  "Of course, I'm sorry!" Pia was quick to apologize. "You must forgive me, it's just that I want everything so perfect for Reid's birthday, and then when you were running so late… Well, I jumped to conclusions and got a little touchy I'm afraid."

  I nearly fainted at the sound of Pia apologizing. The rarity of this was such that I began preparing for frogs to drop down from the ceiling and a plague of locusts to swarm the room.

  Jase, however, took it in stride. "Sorry, I was stuck on a case."

  "Anything interesting?" Pia's eyes sparkled. They did that when she was feeling adventurous. Something which usually ended with me getting concussed.

  "Nothing I need a couple of Nancy Drews sticking their noses into, if that's what you mean. Besides, it's an open case, I can't discuss it."

  Pia stuck her tongue out at him, then led him away to find a place where he could change.

  No sooner than they had walked away, then Mike walked up to me. "You look beautiful tonight."

  "As opposed to other nights?"

  "That's not what I meant at all. I just meant, you look especially beautiful."

  "I bet you say that to all the girls," I made a point of looking over at Simone, who was pretending to talk to Robert, but was in actuality seething at the fact that Mike was talking to me.

  His gaze followed mine. "Oh, Simone? She's a bit old for me, don't you think?"

  Since Mike was closer to her age than mine, I couldn’t agree with him. However, I didn't want to insult him, yet I also did not want to encourage any flirtations in my direction, so I said, "I don't know. I think she looks pretty good for her age." Which was in fact true. I may not like the woman, but I had to be honest, she looked a lot younger than she was. Botox and plastic surgeons really could work wonders.

  "Still, I think I'll stick with the younger crowd and pass on the middle-aged one."

  "Don't let her hear you say that."

  He laughed. "Probably best if I didn't." Then, altering course, he asked, "What did you do with your hair? It looks so different than the other night at dinner."

  "What's different about it?" my mother asked, suddenly joining us.

  Great timing as usual.

  "Mom! Are you and Dad having a nice time?" I attempted to change the subject.

  She was still eyeballing my hair with her mothers-miss-nothing stare. "What's different about your hair, dear? Did you put highlights in it or something? The color does look slightly different."

  "The color looks the same to me," Mike said. "I just meant the length-"

  "Yes, it does look different when I ball it all up into a bun like this," I gave him a pointed glare.

  Bless him, he seemed to catch on. While it was obvious that he wasn't certain why he shouldn't be talking about my newly shorn hair, he seemed willing to play along. "Still, it does look nice."

  "Oh, it's just lovely, dear. Just lovely," my mother agreed. "And the party! Pia's outdone herself, that's for sure. Are you having a good time, Sigreid?"

  "Oh, yes!" I replied, beaming a little more widely than necessary.

  "More so now that your beau has arrived, no doubt," she smiled. "I was beginning to wonder when that young man was going to show up."

  "He's been working on a case," I explained. "Mom, have you met Mike Holbeck? He's the architect that's doing Pia's remodel."

  "I don't believe I have," my mother responded, quickly shaking hands with Mike. I could see the calculating look she gave him. She was adding him up and stac
king him against Jase.

  Not her too…

  "So, you're an architect? Do you work for someone else, or do you own your own business?"

  "Mom!"

  "What? I'm just making conversation."

  No, she was beginning the Mother Inquisition for which she was famous. I'd seen her cross-examine a person with more success than Johnnie Cochran, although she was more the prosecuting attorney type, than the defense.

  "No, it's quite all right," Mike assured me before answering my mother's question. The poor sop, he didn’t know what he was getting himself into. "I inherited the family business and I love what I do."

  "Well, isn't that nice? It's so rare to find someone who sincerely loves their work. So many people are stuck in daily drudgery just to make ends meet. But to be blessed with doing something you love in order to put food on the table, well that is something! Not too long ago Reid was working at our farm and waitressing nights just to pay her bills-"

  "Mom, I don't think Mike really cares about that."

  "Actually, I find it quite interesting," he argued.

  Great. Next thing, she'd be telling him how old I was when I potty-trained.

  "As I was saying," she cast me a frown, "she was waitressing nights and sometimes washing dishes…"

  "If you two will excuse me," I said, moving away from them. This was Mike's chance to prove how interested he truly was in what my mother had to say, and how much of his conviction really had to do with any attempt to make time with me.

  "Your mother at it again?" my father joined me.

  "You know her."

  "Yes, I do. As well as I know you, I'd venture to say."

  I locked eyes with him. Something was up, I could tell by the tone in his voice. It was the same tone he'd used the night he'd discovered that I- at the ripe age of fifteen- had been kissing a boy in the loft of our barn. It had been my first kiss, and what should have been a romantic interlude ended up being a totally disastrous encounter, with nearly catastrophic results.

  It was during one of the Fourth of July celebrations we hosted annually for our neighbors and friends. It was getting late into the evening and everyone was stuffed on barbecue and homemade ice cream. We were all settling down to wait for the fireworks to start, when Tommy Hillock and his cohorts had decided to pull their cruel prank. At that age I wanted nothing more than to have a boyfriend, so I had fallen hook, line, and sinker when Tommy, a boy I had really never cared much for, had come to me to profess his undying infatuation. He had then asked if there was someplace private we could go. Stupidly, I had brought him up to the barn loft, whereupon he instantly grabbed me and began kissing me. If you could call it kissing. It was more like being attacked by an assault team of snails, the way he latched onto my face, squirming and slobbering, and doing anything but letting go. In my desperation to fit in, I tolerated it. At least until I heard the giggling.

  Looking up from below were all of Tommy's friends. One of them had a camera and was attempting to take pictures, but he was laughing too hard to aim the viewfinder. I was mortified. Fury flooded through me, and with all the might I possessed, I pushed Tommy away from me. He tripped over something behind him and toppled over the edge of the loft, landing with a thud in the middle of his friends. I was startled and ashamed by my loss of control. But more than anything else, I was terrified that I might really have hurt him. Paralysis was not unheard of after a fall like that.

  Tommy's friends panicked, most of them scattering immediately. Two of them did stay behind to help him, and they picked him up off the floor and dragged him away, shouting threats at me every step of the way.

  My father found me long after the fireworks had ended (literal and figurative), still hiding up in the loft, crying my eyes out and planning my escape. I had envisioned all sorts of outcomes, including, but not limited to: my being charged with felonious assault and spending the rest of my natural born life in prison; and my parents losing their farm over the lawsuit that was bound to take place. When I saw my father's head appear over edge of the ladder, my terror only increased. I had no doubt he was going to disown me. Or kill me. Or both.

  Instead, he moved over beside me, and we sat in silence for several long minutes. When he finally did speak, it was in a quiet, but firm, tone. "You know, baby girl, you can't hide up in this loft forever. You're at least half to blame for what's happened, and that's something you got to own. But you don't have to let it own you. Life's tricky. Along the way you're bound to make a few mistakes. But if you learn from them, then that's what matters. Tonight you made some. Don't forget them, don't let them go, or you'll never learn. Hold onto them and let them teach you. When you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas, but when you lie down with jackals, you're bound to get bit. Be careful who you let around you, who you let close to you. And remember, I can't fill my shotgun with buckshot forever. Now let's go inside."

  In his own way he had let me know that everything was going to be okay. He wasn’t happy about it, but he had taken care of it. To the best of my knowledge, this was a secret my father and I still carried to this day. More importantly, that day I learned something about my father. He always knew. Whatever was going on, whatever was happening, he always knew. But he wasn't like my mother; he didn't tell you what he knew. He just kept you wondering.

  Which led me to wonder now, what did he know?

  "I'm not sure what you mean, Dad."

  My father fingered a curl on the side of my face. "Your hair sure looks lovely tonight. And I have to say, it looks pretty real. My guess is, it is your hair. Just sort of, detached."

  I flushed. How did he know this? It was not possible that my father had picked up on it while my mother remained oblivious. "But- how?"

  "Like I said, it looks real enough. I've just been overhearing some things wandering around this party. And that man, the one that's talking to your mother right now, he said something to another gal about how different your hair looks tonight. The gal, Cleopatra I think it was, (leave it to Simone) she said something back along the lines of, you cutting off your hair was probably the best thing you could have done given your face structure. Course, she said it in a snide manner. I can see that one isn't your friend.

  "Anyway, so I had to ask myself, why would my little girl go and cut off her hair when I know how much she loves it? I mean, this is the girl that would scream bloody murder when her mother so much as tried to trim the dead ends. So, I guess what I'm wanting is an answer to my question. Why would you do such a thing?"

  I gulped. "Things change, Dad. Sometimes a girl just wants to do something different."

  He narrowed his eyes at me. "Well, if you're not going to give me a straight answer, I suppose I could always go and ask your mother her opinion on the subject."

  He started to move off in her direction, but I grabbed him by the arm. "Wait! No!"

  Crossing his arms over his chest he said, "I'm waiting."

  "Okay. Okay. I didn’t want to tell you guys, because I didn't see the sense in worrying you anymore than you have been lately. Besides, you were just here because of my last hospital visit, I didn't really want to call you and have you come running back. You have a farm to run."

  "I know what my responsibilities are; I really don't need you to tell me."

  "Sorry." Quickly, and with as little detail as I could manage, I told him about the accident.

  He blanched a bit, but otherwise remained fairly stoic. "I agree with you, it's best to leave your mother out of the loop on this one. No sense loading the shotgun after the fox has already left the coop. Having said that, good luck keeping her out of the loop. Because if I've been hearing things, you know your mother has. She's probably just planning her attack."

  "Great."

  "Hey, just telling you how it is. I'll never lie to you, baby girl. And one last thing. If you're thinking about going with the contractor guy instead of that policeman, think twice. There's something about him that I just don't like."

  If
there's one thing I knew about my dad, it was that his instincts were generally spot on.

  My eyes flew across the room to Mike, who was still in conversation with my mother, but seemed to be watching me instead.

  For some reason, it gave me the willies.