by Sara Rosett
“I will be fine. And really, if you need a little time, take it.” She pulled a box toward her and began removing gardening tools. “I remember that—having a newborn.” She smiled. “Wonderful and overwhelming at the same time.”
I took her at her word and quickly showered and slapped on some makeup after putting Livvy down. When I returned to the garage, I blinked. The boxes in the corner where Diana had been working were arranged with prices boldly marked. Now she was sorting books into neat piles.
“Wow, you’ve done a lot.”
“It always surprises me how much I can get done when there aren’t any kids under my feet.”
I sat the baby monitor on a box and sorted through clothes, hanging them on wire hangers. “Can I get you anything? Would you like a Coke or ice tea?” I asked.
Diana pointed at her bottled water next to her purse. “I’ve got water. It’s all I drink, besides green tea.”
“Oh.” I certainly didn’t have green tea, so I turned the conversation. “How many kids do you have?”
“Two. Gavin is five and Stacy is four. I just dropped her off at preschool.”
A few scratchy halfhearted cries came through the monitor and I tensed, listening for more. When there were no more sounds I went back to work saying, “She’s not sleeping well. I’m not sure why.”
“I remember that stage. Gavin decided he did not want to sleep when he turned four months old. Just like that. From one night to the next, he stopped sleeping. We tried everything—pacifiers, feeding, music, night-lights, no night-lights.” She laughed.
It sounded like our last few nights. Maybe I’d laugh like that someday, but right now I was getting desperate with sleep deprivation. “What did you do?”
“We let him learn to go to sleep on his own. There’s a really good book on it. I could lend it to you.”
“That would be great.” I was ready to try anything at this point.
“It wasn’t easy. We basically had to let him cry. He had to go to sleep on his own.”
“Oh.” I hated for Livvy to cry.
“Some people think it sounds cruel, but it’s not. They have to learn sometime and it makes everything else go so much smoother, especially when they get older. I’d much rather teach a baby to sleep on their own than a two-or three-year-old. I know some people who still let their kindergarteners sleep in bed with them.” She radiated disapproval. Her tone sounded like she was describing a person who let their kids eat raw eggs.
“I’ll read the book,” I said, but with some reservations. I searched for something to say, but couldn’t come up with anything else, so we worked in silence. Diana seemed to be one of those people who didn’t feel they needed to make conversation, but silence felt awkward to me.
“Oh, look at this,” she said after a while. She flipped through a book. “Television’s First Families,” she read. I caught a glimpse of the Beav and then Lucy, her mouth bulging with chocolates. “I’m going to take this with me right now. I love those old shows. Remind me to pay for it on the day of the sale.”
She set the book aside and continued until she finished with the books. I noticed her perfect pale pink nails when she pushed back her cuff and checked her leather-banded watch. “I have to go now.”
As I walked to her car with her, I crossed my arms to hide my hangnail on my right hand and smothered a sigh. I couldn’t keep up with women like Diana. How did she maintain her polished image, flawless hair and makeup, and outfits that matched her nail polish? And she didn’t have a speck of dirt on her. I brushed at a smudge across my knees. “How do you always manage to look so perfect?”
Diana’s eyebrows went up and then she self-consciously tugged at her shirt cuffs, straightening them. “Oh. I, uh, don’t know. I never feel like I look that great.” She quickly turned the conversation before I could protest. “Did Cass have anything else that we need to move over here?” Diana asked before she opened the door of her pristine white SUV.
“No. We moved everything over here before …” I faltered at the words “Cass died.” Diana nodded her head and I substituted, “the squadron barbeque.”
“You found her?”
I nodded, hoping she wouldn’t ask how Cass had looked.
“Was she still alive?”
No one else had asked me that question. My surprise must have shown on my face because Diana continued in her even, reasonable tone, “She hadn’t been gone very long before we heard the sirens. It seemed so fast.” Her eyes, clear and light blue, gazed at me unblinkingly.
“No. She was dead when I found her.” I said the word I had avoided earlier. Diana’s unflinching translucent-blue gaze and detached approach had infected me. Since Diana seemed to be in the information-gathering mode, I asked her a question: “Did you talk to her that day?”
She tossed the book inside the SUV and hopped lightly into the driver’s seat. “Not that I remember.” Diana studied the trees arching over her car with leaves tinged red and gold. Her gaze cut back to me. “She talked to Gwen. Gwen looked furious. They didn’t get along, you know.” She slammed her door and rolled down her window.
“Did you see anyone around her van that day? Anyone that’s not usually at the squadron?”
Her eyes seemed cold and remote as she studied me. “Interesting that you asked the same question as the police.” The earlier rapport we’d shared while talking about our children was gone. I shifted my feet and tried to come up with a suitable response, but Diana continued, “You should leave it alone. Give her family some peace.” Her window glided up, she turned toward the road, and didn’t glance back.
It didn’t look like she’d offer to help me again.
The next morning, Thursday, I cruised down the steep winding street of Rim Rock Road, one of the first roads cut into Black Rock Hill near the turn of the century when the town was a logging center. Commerce thrived around the river that rushed through downtown. Nearby, the residential area of lower Black Rock Hill boasted addresses of the town’s wealthiest residents. Our house, located farther up the hill, had been built later. Driving through the oldest neighborhoods with the gingerbread-trimmed Victorians made me a little sad. So many of the historic homes were divided into apartments and a few looked like a good shove would send them tumbling.
Before we moved I’d read up on the history of Vernon. I always pored over maps and travel books when we were PCSing, or in civilian terms, moving. Funny, none of the information had mentioned Black Rock Hill was the hot area for Air Force personnel. If we’d picked another neighborhood I might not be constantly thinking about Cass’s death. But Mitch and I had both fallen in love with the huge trees and the craftsmanship of the homes on Black Rock Hill.
Today instead of admiring the houses as I wound down the hill on my way to the bank, I hardly noticed them. I was on autopilot after another nearly sleepless night with Livvy. My gaze fixed on the double yellow stripe on the road. Resisting the urge to close my eyes, I blinked and focused on the light. The red light.
I jerked my foot over to the brake. The Cherokee screeched to a stop a foot over the white pedestrian crossing. I navigated carefully to the bottom of the hill after the light turned green. I turned into the McDonald’s parking lot. I needed to hit the dry cleaner, the bank, and the drugstore, but I had to wake up first. I didn’t think the caffeine in a Hershey Kiss would do it. Neither Mitch nor I were big coffee drinkers, but I needed something to keep me alert. The drive-through line had at least six cars in it, so I went inside. A blast of cold air hit me as I unhooked Livvy’s car seat and I hurried inside, already feeling more awake away from the heater’s warm air.
Inside, the restaurant was deserted. I sat Livvy down on the counter and dug some change out of my billfold. A girl sagged to the cash register. “Yeah?”
“A small coffee,” I said to the top of her purple and green hat. She took my money and slouched away. Livvy slept contentedly in her car seat. I admired her pale lashes and the smooth curve of her cheek. There’s no
thing more beautiful than a sleeping baby. “Fine for you to sleep all day, but some of us have things to do during the day, young lady. We’re going to have to get back to sleeping at night and napping during the day.”
The girl returned with my coffee. As I turned away to leave, I glanced back. She busily stacked trays and didn’t look up, but she looked familiar, tall with dark brown hair tucked under her baseball cap. She sneaked a look to see if I was still there. Despite the dark circles, her beautiful eyes and perfectly arched brows gave her away, even if the polyester suit hid her figure.
An Everything in Its Place Tip for an
Organized Move
Color-code boxes as you label them with a color specific to each room, such as red for girl’s room, blue for boy’s room, green for kitchen, etc. Sorting boxes at your new home will be a snap.
Chapter
Seventeen
Friona?” She slammed a tray into place under the counter. “Aren’t you Friona? Isn’t your husband in the Fifty-second?”
Her lips tightened. I thought she was about to deny it. Instead, she snapped, “Don’t say anything.”
I blinked. Wow. So much for customer service. She sighed like it was a burden to speak another word to me. “Curtis! I’m taking my break now,” she yelled over her shoulder. She came around the counter and jerked her head toward the booths. Despite her rudeness, I was too curious to walk out the door, so I followed her and took a seat in a plastic booth across from Friona. This McDonald’s was a newer one decorated in a Fifties theme with single records on the wall and framed pictures of Caddies with tailfins. A “Heartbreak Hotel” single hung on the wall between us.
I rocked Livvy’s car seat to keep her asleep and waited for Friona to speak. She took off her baseball cap and her glossy hair swung down on each side of her face.
Reluctantly, she made eye contact with me. “Sorry. You freaked me out.” She let out another deep sigh that would have made my Lamaze teacher proud and muttered, “Couldn’t you have gotten your stupid coffee, and like, gone away?” Since it seemed to be a rhetorical question I didn’t answer. “Look, don’t tell anyone you saw me here, okay?” She twisted her cap in her hands. Her words were pleading, but her tone was almost angry.
“I won’t. But anyone could stop in here and see you,” I pointed out as I took a sip of the coffee. It needed sugar and creamer. I didn’t drink it often enough to drink it black. I had decided long ago I had enough vices without adding coffee to the list. Now I wished I’d opted for a Diet Coke.
“I know.” All the fight went out of her like a deflated balloon. She flattened the hat on the table. She sounded miserable.
“Why don’t you want anyone to know you work here? I think it’s great you’ve got a job.” Friona looked so bored at the squadron barbeque. A job in the real world would be good for her.
“I don’t want the whole squadron to know I work here, okay? I mean this is McDonald’s,” she said sullenly. I repeated my promise not to tell.
“You look exhausted. Are you trying to work two jobs? I saw you at Copeland’s the other night, too.” I thought her husband was a boom operator. The enlisted pay chart was stingy, to say the least. I knew either our squadron or the base had something set up to help enlisted families make ends meet.
She rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand and muttered, “I can’t believe this.” She kept her face lowered, speaking to the tabletop as she said, “Yeah, I work two jobs.” I barely caught her next words. “Not for long, though.”
She checked my face, then continued. “Copeland’s cut back my hours. I had to find something else.” Her attitude had shifted a bit from her whiny, self-centered focus to measuring, almost calculating. “It’s been tough. I mean, do you know how many people want you to be able to type? I flunked out of typing class, so there goes all those jobs.”
Normally, I’m a sympathetic person, but something kept me silent. She picked up her hat and studied the stitching, then flicked a glance at me and said, “Look, my husband, Keith, is flying with your husband later this week. Don’t say you saw me here, okay?” Since I hadn’t joined her pity party, she’d switched back to the original topic.
I took another sip of my coffee. It was working. I was waking up, but it still took me a minute to make the connection. “You mean your husband doesn’t know you work here?”
When she glanced up again her eyes were shiny. “No.” I wondered if the tears were calculated, too. “He thinks I work at that telemarketing place, MultiTech,” Friona continued.
“Friona, if you need help, I know there are things set up on-base for people …” I searched for tactful words, “in a financial bind. Or if not, they can probably refer you to an agency in Vernon that can help.”
“I can’t go to anyone at the base.” She jammed her cap back on her head. “Just don’t tell anyone.” She stalked away.
Later, as I sat in the drive-through line at the bank I wondered about Friona. Was it pride that made her want to keep her job a secret? Was she in some kind of trouble? I assumed it was financial, but it could be anything.
I finished off the coffee with a grimace, replaying the conversation in my mind. Friona was upset. I kept thinking of how she had twisted her hat like she was wringing out a washcloth. There was something more. Friona’s distress seemed out of proportion. I stuck my check in the tube and watched it soar up over to the teller’s window, but I was thinking about the red marks I’d seen on Friona’s arm at the barbeque. What if Cass knew something about Friona that Friona didn’t want anyone else to know? Cass was not exactly good about keeping secrets. If Cass did know about Friona’s secret employment what would Friona have done? Asked her not to tell like she asked me? Or something more?
My cell phone trilled. “Hi,” Mitch said. “I’ve only got a few minutes. I just got us reservations for Saturday night at the Aurora Mansion.”
“What?”
“Reservations. I got us reservations at the Aurora Mansion.” We had talked about finding a babysitter so we could go out, but I hated the thought of leaving Livvy with a teenager who might not know what to do if Livvy started one of her crying spells. After all, most of the time I couldn’t figure out what to do. And I was breast-feeding. Livvy didn’t like bottles, so that didn’t leave a lot of time for dates. It was a hassle and I’d never got around to planning anything. “What about Livvy? I don’t know any babysitters here. And I don’t think that’s the kind of place that hands out crayons and paper placemats.”
Mitch laughed. “It’s definitely a grown-up type of place. That’s why I picked it. Everything’s taken care of. Abby volunteered to babysit.”
“Okay. Sounds great.”
“I know. See you in a little while.”
We said our good-byes and I hung up. Abby probably offered to babysit. She mentioned the same thing to me awhile back and I had waved the idea aside, saying I was too busy unpacking. And what I didn’t mention to Abby was that I was a little reluctant to leave Livvy. But I told myself firmly, Abby would take great care of her.
Mitch normally went with the flow, so it was unusual for him to come up with the idea and plan everything. I did spend a good portion of my day caring for Livvy. It squeezed what little time Mitch and I had together to almost nothing. Some time as a couple would be good for Mitch and me, too. On that thought, I headed home to check my closet, a little thrill of excitement running through me. I was going out on a date!
I pulled hard on Rex’s leash and dragged him back from a rubber trash can to keep him walking beside me. “We have to keep moving or this won’t be much exercise for me,” I told him. Rex glanced back at me over his shoulder, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his tail beating the air. Taking him with me as we circled the block had made his day. Tomorrow morning, Friday, was trash day. Trash cans squatted at the end of each driveway. Rex was in heaven with all the smells available to him. I moved out into the street and we picked up the pace, which set my pocket, heavy with my cell ph
one, banging against my hip.
Mitch stayed home so he could study for his check ride, an annual flying test that all pilots had to pass. I’d been surprised. “But you just got here. What’s the rush?”
“Got to get it done before the end of the month or I drop dead, statistically speaking. Birth month and all that.”
We’d celebrated Mitch’s birthday a few days before the movers arrived. Pilots had to do a lot of box checking during their birth month, like physicals, dental cleanings, and check rides.
“Couldn’t you get a waiver or something? You’ve flown on this airfield, what? Twice?”
“Three times. I want to get it over with. Abbots is the IP.”
“Great.” We’d already heard about Major Abbots. He took great pride in his reputation as the toughest instructor pilot in the squad. “Like I said, you sure you don’t want to get a waiver and take it again when he’s sick or on leave, or something?”
“Nope. Wouldn’t look good. It’ll be fine. I’ll just hit the books and get it done.”
A kid on a bike zipped by and I gripped Rex’s leash. I never thought I would like walking, but striding through the cool twilight felt great.
As I passed Friona and Keith’s house, the porch light snapped on and Friona hurried out the door and down the concrete steps toward me. I reeled in Rex’s leash. “Hello.”
“Hey.” She’d changed out of her polyester uniform into an oversize black sweatshirt and cutoffs. “I saw you leave.” Remembering my thoughts about her possible connections with Cass’s murder, I felt uncomfortable. At least I had Rex with me, who wouldn’t hurt anyone, but he looked threatening. I glanced at Rex, who was peeing on a bush in Friona’s front yard. Well, usually Rex looked threatening. Friona didn’t seem to even notice the dog. In fact, she looked more cold than threatening. She pulled her sleeves, which had been pushed up over her elbows, down over her wrists and placed her feet close together. She bounced on the balls of her feet. I jerked the leash and Rex trotted to my side. Friona stood there, seeming reluctant to say anything, so I asked, “How’s the rash?”
