by Susanne Beck
"Ahh," I said, nodding. "Would you like some company?"
She looked at me critically. "I don’t know if that’s wise, Angel. Millicent doesn’t seem predisposed toward having warm feelings for you, especially given recent events and the part you’ve played in them."
"True. But I hardly think that’s an obstacle the great Corinne Weaver can’t overcome." Playing to her ego was a sure-fire way to get myself a seat of honor at the main event. Besides, it was only the truth, and we both knew it.
Her eyes softened and she acknowledged my tactic with a slight tilt of her head, causing me to display my triumph with a toothy grin. Still, she couldn’t help putting a touch of the martyr in her voice. "Oh, very well. If you feel you must come along, hurry up and change. I’m not getting any younger, you know."
"But you’re aging beautifully," I said, dodging in and giving her a teasing kiss before darting away and running up the stairs to change into something more presentable. From the floor below, I heard her muttering something about impertinent brats and their need of a good strapping, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
After changing into a pair of clean, pressed shorts and a simple green top, I slipped a pair of sandals on and walked back downstairs to join Corinne, bearing her scrutiny stoically.
"The innocent little girl look. I like it." Her dark eyes twinkled. "I like it a great deal, in fact."
"Down, Fido," I joked. "Let’s just get this show on the road, ok?"
"Spoilsport."
"Chicken-hawk."
Her laugh sounded its music behind me as I made for the door.
God I had missed her!
* * *
Twenty minutes later, we found ourselves standing outside the open door to the Silver Pine. The bustle of workers busily readying the Inn for its upcoming season filled the space around us. Looking around, I wasn’t surprised to find many of the same people who had fought the fire were there, sprucing up the arsonist’s business establishment.
Though it looked to all the world like Millicent had gotten off without a hitch, in reality, she was being watched like a hawk by those working for her. With so many townspeople in and around her home, she couldn’t blow her nose without it becoming town gossip within seconds.
The men and women up on ladders, or raking the grounds, or bearing buckets and scrub brushes gave me little grins or covert winks as our gazes met, as if to assure me that they were on the job and ready for action.
Millicent came to the door then, wearing a dress the exact shade, not to mention size, of a huge wad of bubblegum in a teenaged girl’s mouth. Her lipstick, a frosted pink that had last been popular during the disco era, tried its best to match, but failed miserably. Even the ribbons entangled in poor Puddles’ fur couldn’t come close to the true atrocity that was Millicent’s dress. Her feet were adorned with dainty slippers more suited to the ballet, and which were straining at the seams from being forced to carry a weight far heavier than their maker no-doubt intended. And, of course, the jewels were out in full bloom, covering what seemed to be every inch of exposed skin.
Since I was closest to the door, she spied me first and her face took on that sour lemon look I’d come to associate with her. I gave her my best smile, then stepped aside as the great Corinne moved forward to take center stage in the play she was directing.
Her lips hinted at a somewhat regal half-smile as she assessed Millicent from head to toe, looking at her as if she might just be a rival for a cherished mate’s affections. "Ms. Harding-Post, I presume?"
Millicent reacted immediately, her carriage becoming more erect, as befitting one meeting a social peer for the first time and not wanting it to get back to the powers that be that one was slacking off in one’s duties. "Yes. And you are?"
"Corinne LaPointe. Of the LaPointes of North Hampton. Perhaps you recognize the name?"
Like the biggest large-mouth ever landed, Millicent took the bait, her face breaking into a beaming smile. "Indeed I do, Mrs. LaPointe. Indeed I do! It’s so wonderful to meet a fellow Islander. Won’t you please come in?"
"I’d be delighted. My wonderful niece has told me so much about you, Ms. Harding-Post. It was all I could do just to wait the respectable amount of time before coming to pay you a visit."
Millicent tittered coyly, her broad face dimpling. "Oh please, Mrs. LaPointe. Millicent, if you don’t mind. Such formality is for those beneath one’s station, don’t you agree?"
"Oh, I do indeed, Millicent. Perhaps you’ll return the favor and call me Corinne, yes?"
"It would be a great honor, Corinne. Won’t you please come in?"
"Your invitation is most welcome, Millicent. Thank you."
One of my father’s many down-home sayings chose that moment to pop into my mind. When a shit storm’s blowin your way, Tyler, best thing you can do is get out of the way and plug up your nose.
And so I did, stepping aside so that Corinne could pass in front of me. Though this time, instead of plugging my nose, I held tight to the laughter that was threatening to erupt as I watched the genius that was my friend.
Following close behind, I couldn’t help but watch as Corinne took in the interior of the Bed and Breakfast with what seemed to be wide-eyed, and appreciative, wonder.
"What a beautiful home you have, Millicent! You simply must give me the name of your designer."
Millicent’s eyes narrowed just a touch. "Why? Are you thinking of opening up a business here?"
"Me?" Corinne’s hand came up to her chest and she laughed. "Oh no, my dear. My dabbling days are long over, I’m afraid. I’ll leave the fine art of business to those much younger and more beautiful than I."
If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would have found it impossible to believe that Millicent Harding Post could become even larger than she already was, yet there it was, plain as day, her body seeming to puff up with the praise she’d received, much as a peacock’s will when spreading his plumage.
I wondered if asking for quick directions to the bathroom was out.
Millicent uttered that queer tittering laugh again, flapping her hand at Corinne. "Nonsense, dear. You’re absolutely charming, and I mean that in only the best of ways!"
"How kind of you to say, Millicent."
"I only speak the truth, Corinne." Bustling us into the lobby, she indicated a rather uncomfortable looking couch which sat catty-corner to the overdone fireplace monopolizing one wall. "Won’t you please sit down? I’d offer you the grand tour, but I’m afraid the horrid winter has done just dreadful things to the rooms upstairs. They won’t be fit for man nor beast for a month, at least!"
Corinne nodded in commiseration. "I understand perfectly, Millicent. Your hospitality is a gift beyond measure." She sat down on the couch, the very essence of regality. I stood next to her, wondering if it was proper to sit next to such royalty, or if it was more proper that I kneel by her side, a footman bearing scepter and crown. She looked at me, the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes. "Please sit, Tyler. You’re offending our hostess."
Even though said in jest, the mock rebuke stung and, true to my childhood programming, I sat down quickly, eyes cast to the floor. "Yes, Ma’am."
"There’s a good girl," she replied, patting my hand.
I looked up, first at Corrine, then at Millicent.
Oh, how I ached to wipe that look of smug condescension from her face.
With an axe.
Not that anyone would notice the difference if I did.
Corinne must have caught my tension, because she squeezed my hand briefly before releasing it and clasping her hands primly in her lap.
"Would you like some tea?" Millicent asked.
"Only if it isn’t too much trouble, dear."
"Oh, no trouble at all. I was just about to fix myself a cup when you came calling. Be back in a flash."
I maintained my silence for all of a second after she left, taking her stench and her oh-so-refined air with her. Then I did a slow head turn until Corinne
was fully in my sights. "Is it permissible to vomit in the potted palm, my Lady?"
Corinne laughed, her whole body shaking with mirth. "Patience, dear Angel. In order to grow a proper garden, one needs to visit the cow pasture first."
"Yeah, but I’m only wearing sandals."
"Just relax and follow my lead."
I sighed. "I’ll try. It’s not gonna be easy, though."
She smiled. "I have all the faith in the world in you, Angel."
Though it should have, her statement didn’t make me feel any better.
Millicent returned after a short time, rolling in a silver tea-cart upon which various tea accouterments were tinkling when they jostled together as the wheels rolled along from rug to hideous rug.
Stopping the cart nearby, she then proceeded to pour out the tea and hand us delicate china cups brimming with the dark, steaming brew.
Corinne sipped hers, smiling in appreciation. On cue, I sipped my own tea, not really tasting it for the bile still in my throat.
Apparently satisfied with Corinne’s tacit approval, Millicent poured her own tea, then sat down in the armchair on the other side of the fireplace. Puddles promptly jumped into her somewhat more than generous lap and helped herself to a long drink, her entire body shuddering in what looked to be the throes of ecstasy.
"So," Millicent said after rescuing her tea from Puddles and drinking down the rest of it without a thought to how it must look, "what brings you here, Corinne? Surely it isn’t the scenery. Or the populace." She said the last with a visible shudder.
"My niece," Corinne answered succinctly.
Millicent’s eyebrows raised. Mine almost went up as well. "Oh?"
"Yes. Tyler is very much loved by her family, but I’m afraid she’s become a bit much even for them lately." She leaned closer to Millicent, as if imparting a dark secret. "Left her poor fiancée at the altar. My brother is heartbroken about it. Simply heartbroken."
"Oh, how truly sad," Millicent replied, shaking her head in sympathy and looking at me as if I’d suddenly grown Vampire teeth and might bite. "However is he coping?"
"Not very well, I’m afraid. Her mother took ill, as one might expect, and it’s all he can to just to coax the poor dear out of bed in the morning. They had such high hopes for this marriage. It was the perfect match. Hand picked, you know."
"Is there any other kind?"
"Not for us, no." She turned to me and smiled. "Tyler’s always been a bit headstrong. Many children are these days, no matter how much love and guidance their parents give them."
"I think it’s in the water," Millicent pronounced with God-like authority.
"It may well be at that. She announced, bold as you please, that she wanted to see a bit of the world first before settling down and becoming the proper wife to a prosperous young man. Being young once myself, I could empathize with her passions. Little did I know, however, just what sort of passions they were."
Looking in my direction once again, Millicent’s face screwed up in that sour expression I so detested.
Corinne smiled. "I see you’ve met her."
"Not to talk to, certainly," Millicent said in a haughty tone. "But in passing, yes. Utterly base and without any hint of a redeeming quality whatsoever."
"Yes, but with a sort of magnetism that a young woman like Tyler can’t help but be attracted to. Even I felt myself drawn, if only for a moment."
Millicent’s eyes went round. "You did?"
"Oh yes. She has a power. Demon-given, I’m sure, but a power nonetheless. And without the benefit of experience which you and I have in spades, poor Tyler was powerless against her attentions. It happens to the best of us, sometimes."
"They recruit, you know," Millicent said, her voice once again full of authority. Then she looked at me once more, scanning me intently from head to toe. "And your niece is exactly the type they like to prey on. Young. Innocent. Mildly attractive."
Corinne’s quick hand on my wrist was the only thing that stopped me from ripping the woman’s tongue out and feeding it to her.
"Really? I find her quite attractive. She reminds me a little of myself when I was younger."
"Oh, no offense meant, Corinne," Millicent said hastily, to cover her faux pas, no doubt. "The family resemblance is quite striking, if I may say so. Quite striking. Why, in the right light, you look as if you could almost be sisters."
I resisted the urge to look around for the cow I just knew had to be hiding somewhere.
Corinne smiled as if the compliment was nothing but the utter truth as she saw things. "You’re very kind to say so, Millicent." She sighed. "One of the unfortunate truths of life is that age does catch up with a body. I try my best to stave off its effects for as long as possible."
"And you’re doing a magnificent job of it, Corinne. Simply magnificent. Why, I’m surprised you don’t have suitors surrounding you like birds to a fountain. Even in this corner of God’s hell."
"Oh, there’s been some interest, to be sure. But honestly, I hardly see myself as pairing up with an elderly gas-station attendant, do you?"
Bulls-eye!
"Oh, not him. He’s a perfectly dreadful little man. And a bit of a pervert as well, if you don’t mind such base language. I simply can’t think of a better way to describe him."
"I don’t mind at all." Which wasn’t, of course, near to being the truth. Though she didn’t show it outwardly, I could feel Corinne’s temper click up a notch based on the sudden, if imperceptible to anyone but me, stiffness in her body. "Has he made improper advances toward you, Millicent?"
"No. Well, not exactly. But every time I see him, it’s as if he’s undressing me with his eyes." She shuddered.
I almost swallowed my tongue at the mental image.
I could tell by the silent tremor next to me that Corinne was trying desperately to hold back a laugh. It was a very close call.
"How simply dreadful for you, poor dear," she said finally in a voice which was not quite her own. Then, because she was about a millisecond away from losing her composure, she turned her head to look out of the window, a broad grin cracking the staid plains of her face as she did so.
I almost hated her for a moment, jealous of her ability to take such a needed escape while I had to sit still and proper, playing the part of a lost little girl who’s finally seen the light. A quick vision of Pop’s face as he surveyed the damage Millicent had caused sobered me quickly and sent a warm, welcome flush of anger through limbs made stiff with inactivity. I kept my eyes glued to the tea-cup, studying the dainty pattern of trailing roses so as not to betray my emotions.
After a long moment, Corinne finally turned back, her face fully settled once again. "Unfortunate view," she commented, not bothering to point out the picture of Pop’s burned out junkyard that stared in through the large window. "Does it effect your business any?"
Millicent’s lips thinned and a very real anger sparked in her eyes. "You don’t know the half of it. Why, when I first learned this place had befallen me, I had such high hopes. An entire society of wealthy friends have a taste for slumming, provided the proper accommodations are available, of course. Why, my volunteer circle alone could feed and house this entire backwater hellhole for years! Not to mention my friends at the country club. My only thoughts were to do right by this place, backward though it is. To show its people a touch of class, to help the needy, to be a good neighbor." Fat, crocodile tears beaded in the corners of her eyes, their very presence turning my stomach. "And what was I given in return? Hatred. Suspicion. Cruelty."
Pulling out a lace handkerchief as large as a tablecloth, she dabbed her eyes as her gelatinous body quivered with imagined grief.
It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, not giving into the almost insane urge to rip that handkerchief out of her hands and knot it around her neck like a noose. The tea sat sour and curdled in my belly and I had to swallow a few times just to make sure the joking threat I’d made to Corinne about baptizing a housepl
ant didn’t become a reality.
For her part, Corinne sat still and quiet as a churchmouse, a smile frozen on her face as she watched Millicent play out the part of well-meaning but horribly mistreated philanthropist.
It might not have been so bad, even for all that, had Millicent not kept peeking up at Corinne, a flat sheen of cool calculation in eyes filled with false tears, to judge the effect her mournful display was having.
After a few more heartbroken sobs were manufactured for good measure, she wiped her face, then replaced the handkerchief in a hidden pocket somewhere on her person. I mourned the loss of so fine a weapon.
"So you can see that this hasn’t been an easy road to travel. Out here, all alone, without one friend to call my own." She affected a deep sigh, swelling her already huge bosom to truly astounding proportions. "But, as always, I shall persevere, despite whatever these cretins try to throw at me."
"Have you tried to fight back?" Corinne asked in as compassionate a tone as she could manage under the circumstances.
"Indeed I have. I filed suits, I called in the police, I did everything I could think of. Nothing. No help for the inconvenienced." She laughed bitterly. "Justice, they say. Ha! They wouldn’t know justice if they tripped over it."
"I can’t say I’m a bit surprised," Corinne replied. "These Canadians have a way of protecting their own when it comes to outsiders. You simply wouldn’t believe all the hoops I was forced to jump through just to rescue my beloved niece." She smiled; one that was hard with knowing. "Sometimes, I’ve found that it’s best just to take matters into one’s own hands."
Millicent’s face then took on a cast of a young girl with a very deep secret and I knew the moment was at hand. I felt myself lean forward as adrenaline rushed its way through my body, speeding my heart. "Do you?" she asked in a very small voice.
"I do indeed. Sad as it is to say, gone are the days when one’s station in life guaranteed one good service, Millicent. Now it’s every person for himself. There are no free rides anymore."
