The entire room went silent. Sylvia flushed and closed her eyes for a moment. Thankfully another resident of the community, a kind woman, came and took the older woman by the elbow and led her out to the kitchen claiming she wanted to show her something. Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief. She went over to the refreshments table and poured herself a healthy splash of red wine. Then she heard Joe clear his throat loudly.
“I’m thinking we should get started,” he told the crowd.
Everyone settled down and the room was silent.
“As you know,” Joe told them, “Mrs. Joyce Capaselli’s body was found on Ms. Ash’s beach just a few days ago. Mrs. Capaselli is a part time resident at Bayside. She was apparently murdered on New Year’s Eve and her body dumped into the river. We, the police, have questioned many of you to see if you heard or saw something of interest that day or evening. Thus far, we’ve been unable to find the murderer. Mr. Capaselli was at their full time address in New Jersey. We understand Mrs. Capaselli was entertaining a friend that evening.”
Joe had to stop for a moment as a murmur went through the crowd and someone gave a sarcastic ‘Hah!’
Joe cleared his throat again. “We, the police, do not feel that there is a murderer running loose in your neighborhood. We have reason to believe that Mrs. Capaselli knew her murderer. But, as a precaution, we suggest that you be vigilant to lock doors and windows, leave outside lights on and report anything suspicious.” He heavily intoned the word ‘anything’ for the listeners. Do you have any questions?
“One man who was rather inebriated asked, “Where’s Mr. Capaselli? He’s not here with his neighbors!” he said accusingly.
Joe remained calm. “Mr. Capaselli, as you can imagine, is in a state of shock. He’s taking care of family matters this evening.”
Another person asked if there would be an increase police presence in the neighborhood. Detective Christian answered that there would indeed be increased presence of police. He mentioned that Sylvia had seen the person Joyce had been with earlier that day, and there was an APB out for that person. No hits at that time. Joe piped in again and stressed that it was vital to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity. He urged them to keep in contact with the police if they have any concerns or remembered anything that might be significant to the case. Both detectives commented that small details help in solving crimes. The crowd seemed fairly calm. Their curiosity was temporarily satiated.
Sylvia announced, “Please, help yourselves to all of these lovely treats. And thank you for bringing them,” she said. She felt gauche, but Joe gave her an encouraging smile.
All of a sudden the conversations started up again. Ice tinkled in glasses and conversations started going round. Several people came up to Sylvia and patted her back and her shoulder murmuring comforting things and, saying to her how awful it must have been to have a body wash up on her beach. She nodded and agreed with each of them.
Was it not even a year ago that most of these same people were here for her Grandmother’s funeral? It didn’t seem possible.
One of her neighbors whom she liked very much came up to her, “Sylvia,” she said, “how are you really making out. You’ve had a tough several months between your grandmother’s passing, the murder last summer and now this.”
Sylvia shrugged, “I’m all right, I guess.”
Before she could continue the president of the Association came up to her and put her arm around Sylvia. “Thank you, Sylvia,” she told her. “Look at all these faces. They’re much more relaxed than they were an hour ago. Your little soiree has helped tremendously. Thank you so much.”
Sylvia smiled. “Thanks,” she said.
Another neighbor came up to Sylvia. “Sylvia, I know this sounds corny, but it’s amazing how you’ve grown,” an older woman told her. She looked vaguely familiar. “You used to go swimming with my grandchildren. Do you remember Emily and Susan?” she asked Sylvia.
“Mrs. Roberts?” Sylvia asked remembering swimming at Bayside with two girls who were slightly older than she.
“Yes!” Mrs. Roberts said, “Now you remember! How are you doing dear? It must have been a shock to have your grandmother pass like she did. Holly was such a good person.”
“How well did you know Gran?” Sylvia asked curiously.
“Oh, laws,” Mrs. Roberts said. “Holly and I were good buddies. She didn’t want to do all of the artsy craftsy things like pottery and painting like the rest of us girls in the neighborhood. No, she had her own agenda. She was like a Joan of Arc—always out to save someone. I think that’s why she married your grandfather. She was out to save him. To change him, I think. I don’t know. It was so long ago, now.” That sounded like Gran to Sylvia. Mrs. Roberts shook her head. “But, she used to run around to work on various causes with that friend of hers…I can’t remember her name.”
“Marian Duir?” Sylvia asked.
“Yes! That’s the name,” Mrs. Roberts said.
“Marian and I have become friends as well,” Sylvia told her warmly.
“I’m not surprised,” Mrs. Roberts said. “You’re more like Holly than you realize.”
“I didn’t know my grandfather,” Sylvia said.
“I know child,” Mrs. Roberts told her. “But, I know in my heart he would have spoiled you silly. For all of his gruffness and old boy business sense, he adored your grandmother and your mother. It’s sad we lost him so young.”
“How are Emily and Susan?” Sylvia asked.
“They’re just fine,” Mrs. Roberts told her. “Emily is in Florida working on her master’s degree in marine biology and Susan is in California with a young one of her own. My first great grandchild! I wish I saw them more frequently.”
Mrs. Roberts excused herself and moved to another group of laughing and talking people. Sylvia went around and started picking up stray plastic cups and napkins.
Another woman came up and assisted Sylvia, “You and your grandmother,” she said in disgust, “always finding bodies!”
“What do you mean?” Sylvia gasped.
“Your grandmother was no stranger to finding dead bodies. She found a poor girl, dead, at one of her political marches,” she paused, “a long way back.”
“I never knew,” Sylvia said.
“Poor girl had been butchered by a back street abortion doctor,” the woman told her. “Nothing like that ever made the papers, but Holly was incensed. She was pro-choice, but became thoroughly disgusted by the number of back street supposedly legal abortions.”
“Oh, my,” Sylvia murmured.
“Far as I know, the doctor was never found or convicted,” the woman said, “though Holly tried her best, that is, until her husband put a stop to all of it.” She walked away from Sylvia after this comment.
Sylvia just stood, frozen in time for a moment. Her grandmother lived a life she never knew. Sylvia was surprised she was pro-choice as well. Gran had been adamant about every single thing having life and that it was precious. When she researched the Green Man in the last year, Sylvia came across Jainism, an Indian religion, that seemed to fit Gran’s beliefs. She didn’t take it as far as some of the Jain practitioners, but Gran honored life and living to a high degree.
Joe startled her by touching her arm. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I think so,” Sylvia said. “I’m just learning more about Gran than I ever knew.”
“Good stuff?” Joe asked her with a little concern in his eyes.
Sylvia looked briefly around the room before answering. “Interesting stuff,” she said, “best told over a cold beer or a bottle of wine.”
“Okay,” he said, “I’ll take you up on that story some day with the libation.”
One by one or in small groups, her neighbors exited. The tone in the room had changed from angry and stressful to the usual relaxed group of friends and neighbors. The community seemed mostly whole again to Sylvia. It could never be complete again without Gran.
Chapter 20
; When we long for life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure.
Peter Marshall
With Percy waiting at home to be walked, Sylvia fell into the habit of working intensely and leaving as soon as she possibly could. Her days and nights with Percy fell into a comfortable pattern once again. She worked with Carol on the marketing strategies for spring and summer festivals, and had her help shop for imprinted items to hand out. She continued to work on marketing brochures and planned the community action board meetings for the spring. Time flew by, and she was shocked when, almost two weeks later, she walked into a proverbial flower shop in her office. Carol wore a sly grin on her face.
“You are something!” Carol crowed. “I told you so! Bees to honey!”
Sylvia stared at the beautiful bouquets. One was a breathtaking arrangement of white roses, baby’s breath with sparkling accents. Another was a huge bouquet of red and white roses. The third bouquet was a mixture of carnations and a few roses in a vase held by a teddy bear.
“I promise, though I was tempted, I did not read the cards,” Carol told her. “Now that you are here, I can’t wait to see who sent what!” She urged Sylvia to open the small envelopes stuck into the bouquets with picks.
“Let me put my things down,” Sylvia told her. She had been at a meeting, so she put her laptop and a briefcase on her desk.
First she looked at the mixture of flowers and roses with the teddy bear. It was from Joe. “Happy Valentine’s Day was written on the card and simply signed “Joe.” Carol grinned when Sylvia handed over this card and she read it. The over the top bouquet of red and white roses was a gift from Tony. His card said, “Happy Valentine’s Day. Miss you. Talk to you soon. Love, Tony.” Carol scowled at this card. The last bouquet of the sparkling white roses was from Owen. His card read, “I’m sorry, please forgive me. I love you. Owen.” Carol put her hand to her chest and blinked hard when she read this. Sylvia rolled her eyes at this.
“Wow,” Carol said. “Wow. What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Do?” Sylvia asked.
“Yes, do!” Carol almost exploded.
“Well…” Sylvia said thoughtfully, “I’m going to thank Tony, and Joe, for the flowers. Owen…” she paused, “I’m not quite ready or willing to forgive him. I will email or IM him thanks, but no thanks.”
“Really?” Carol asked.
“Really,” Sylvia confirmed.
Carol shook her head.
“Carol,” she spluttered. “I need some time. He still hasn’t given an explanation or really apologized.”
“Have you talked to him?” Carol asked.
“He only recently asked me too,” Sylvia told her, “and I’ve been too busy at work to follow up.”
“I think you should give him a chance,” she said stoutly.
“Hmmm…” Sylvia muttered.
“I know, call me ‘crazy Carol,’ but I have a sense about things. I trying to tell you!” she told Sylvia. “It’s my Irish blood. You must believe me. My grandmother was good at knowing things too,” she said in a brogue and nodding her head wisely. “Owen is a good man and I think he’s your true love.”
Sylvia laughed at Carol’s brogue. But, on a serious note, she told Carol, “He broke my heart, Carol. I don’t know.”
“Talk to him,” Carol said quietly. She left the office and shut the door behind her. Sylvia sat at her desk, took off her heels and rubbed her feet absently. Sighing Sylvia pulled out her cell phone and texted both Tony and Joe. The flowers were very sweet gestures from both of them. Owen. He was her conundrum. She emailed him.
“Owen, thank you for the lovely flowers. I am not sure I’m ready to forgive and forget. I guess we need to talk sometime. Sylvia.”
Sylvia sorted out her paperwork from the morning and followed up on some calls. It wasn’t long before an email from Owen appeared in her box.
“Sylvia, can I come over this evening to talk?” His email sounded eager.
She emailed back, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Can we meet somewhere?” Sylvia once read in a women’s magazine that it is best to meet in a public place. She did not want to meet him at Marian and Jon’s house nor at her house. Quickly he emailed back. “Dinner? Our favorite Chinese on Saturday?” Joe had asked her out Saturday. Sylvia replied “I can’t make it on Saturday. How about tomorrow evening? Chinese is okay.” She loved Chinese food, but she had practically lived at the restaurant this week. She had agreed as it was a quieter place than the pub in town and she wanted to meet him in a public place, but not with too many people around. “Good. Pick you up at work?” Owen emailed her back. She answered, “I’ll meet you there at five p.m. if that is all right.” She did not want to give him any advantage. Meeting him earlier would keep them from the Friday night dinner crowd. “All right” he emailed back. “See you there.” The plummet from hope to uncertainty was tangible. Sylvia shook her head at the screen.
Chapter 21
Don't wish me happiness - I don't expect to be happy it's gotten beyond that, somehow. Wish me courage and strength and a sense of humor - I will need them all.
Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Carol was beside herself the next day when she heard Sylvia was going to meet Owen.
“Good, good, good!” she said excitedly and threw her arms around Sylvia in a spontaneous hug. “This calls for a caffeine and chocolate celebration!”
“You are too funny, girl!” Sylvia told her as they made their way to the break room for the coffee.
Mr. Carter had given both girls large hearts filled with chocolate the day before.
“You two are the closest thing I have to family,” he had told them. “And, I couldn’t be prouder of both of you.” He started to tear up a bit, coughed and retreated to his office.
Sylvia and Carol were caught up in his emotion as well.
“Aren’t we lucky,” Sylvia whispered to Carol.
She nodded.
They returned from the break room with large mugs of coffee and opened the chocolate.
“Only two a day,” Carol told her. “All right? Bikini season is coming up faster than you think!”
“And I have to fit into that bridesmaid’s dress,” Sylvia reminded Carol.
They savored their chocolates and sipped their coffee. Carol brought her up to date on Brigid. She urged Sylvia to stop by with her some time to visit Shannon.
“I will,” Sylvia promised. “Let them get their feet wet with parenting first.”
“Good idea,” Carol agreed and returned to her desk to work.
Carol practically shooed Sylvia from the office at 4:00.
“Race home and let Percy out,” she directed and then meet Owen. “Call me, text me, something…and let me know how things went, okay?”
“Okay,” Sylvia laughed at her.
To make it home and to the restaurant after walking the dog would be a challenge. Sylvia was grateful the roads were clear of snow and ice and zipped into Bayside much faster than she usually would. She trotted Percy around to do his business and then had him climb in the back seat.
“You can be my co-pilot,” she told Percy as she hurried to the restaurant.
Owen was waiting in the parking lot for her with his car running. He was doing something with his phone and obviously jamming to some music. Sylvia pulled into the spot next to his car. He looked up and smiled and quickly got out.
“Who’s this?” he asked when he spied Percy as she climbed out of the car.
“This is Percy, my new dog,” she told him.
Owen’s face was a mixture of emotions, but it settled into a poker face.
“How are you boy?” he asked Percy. Percy didn’t growl, but looked interested in Owen.
“Where did you get him?” Owen asked.
“Long story,” Sylvia told him. “I can tell you at dinner.” Sylvia did not want to start their conversation by telling Owen that Percy was a gift from Tony. It co
uld wait. She walked ahead of him to the door of the restaurant. He opened it and ushered her inside.
The hostess saw the two of them. She raised one eyebrow at Sylvia before she smiled and commented, “Nice to see the two of you again.”
The waitress led them to a booth towards the back and set down the menus.
After they ordered drinks, Owen asked, “How are you?”
Sylvia kept calm and said, “I’m all right.”
“So where did you get the dog?” Owen asked.
“He was a gift from Tony Capaselli,” Sylvia told him carefully. “After Joyce’s death he didn’t want to keep him.”
“Joyce is dead?” He asked aghast.
“Don’t you read the papers?” Sylvia asked. “Haven’t you talked to Marian and Jon?” her voice rising a bit with the questions.
“Marian and Jon have been away again. I have not read the papers,” he told her flatly. “What happened?”
Sylvia told him of Joyce’s philandering, disappearance and being found by Sylvia on the beach. She shared how much she enjoyed Percy when she was watching him for Tony and that she always had wanted a dog.
“Wow,” Owen said, shaking his head. “You’ve had a rough couple of weeks. I’m sorry.”
Sylvia bristled at this. Didn’t he realizing that he was the cause of the beginning of the rough patch these past few weeks? She bit her lip and tried not to tear up.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, realizing his error.
“Sylvia,” he began and stopped. Owen took a swig of his beer. “I don’t know where to begin and how to say how sorry I am,” he told her. “I was so stressed about work, and then teaching at State, I couldn’t even begin to listen to you, or anyone, about an explanation for that damned bridal magazine showing up in her mailbox. I was beginning to feel really trapped and the Moms didn’t help.”
Sylvia shook her head. “Did I make you feel trapped?” she asked him.
Owen shook his head. “But, at that time, I didn’t feel I could trust you, once that magazine came.”
The Leafing: the 2nd book in The Green Man series Page 17
