The Leafing: the 2nd book in The Green Man series

by Sharon Brubaker

  “Didn’t Katherine Hepburn live somewhere near here?” Sylvia asked.

  “Oh, yes, dear,” Audrey answered. “The family compound is over there,” and she waved a hand in the general direction of the beach. “It’s for sale now. Five properties for thirty million, if you can spare the change,” she said acerbically. She shook her head. “We all miss Kate.”

  Old Saybrook was a sweet little town. It reminded Sylvia of Annapolis, Maryland, but on a much smaller scale. One building sported a plaque that stated Lafayette had made a purchase in 1824. Sylvia wondered if this was the merchant’s version of “George Washington Slept here.” She almost giggled. Colonial looking boutique shops lined the streets. Audrey guided the SUV into a parking place and they went into a small, but very elegant bridal salon. An older woman stepped out from the back and smiled when she saw the group.

  “I have everything ready, Mrs. Beecher,” she told Audrey.

  “Sylvia, you’ve not met, Miss Hopkins,” she introduced Sylvia.

  “The bridesmaid,” Miss Hopkins nodded. “I have your dress all ready to try on, but first, the bride.”

  Gwen slipped into the back room where Mrs. Hopkins helped her into the gown. It took a few minutes.

  “All of those buttons up the back,” Claire almost whispered.

  “Twenty-three,” Audrey breathed.

  Gwen emerged and Sylvia gasped at her friend’s beauty. The gown was perfect for Gwen. It was brushed very pale ivory satin with an empire waist and pleating at the shoulders. But, it was not a cookie cutter wedding gown. The buttons reached up just above the waistline and the back was cleverly cut out of the satin. From the front it looked nearly Edwardian, but the back was very chic and modern. It skimmed along her friend’s perfect, slim body. The dress had an embroidered chiffon shrug that came to her waist. She looked tall, elegant and beautiful.

  “It’s perfect,” Sylvia told her friend.

  Gwen smiled at her a bit nervously. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  They all nodded and agreed whole heartedly. Gwen’s smile relaxed a little, but she was distracted by Miss Hopkins fussing around her. She tugged at the shoulder area under the chiffon shrug.

  “I think I need to take this up a smidgen,” she told Gwen. “And you,” Miss Hopkins directed, “need to get the proper undergarments.” She gave details to Gwen. Audrey listened as well.

  “Another time,” Audrey told her. “Perhaps next weekend, Gwen?”

  Gwen nodded.

  “Or we could plan a lingerie purchasing weekend,” Clair suggested. “It could be a lot of fun…” her voice trailed off and her smile was mischievous.

  “It’s a pity your mother couldn’t arrive earlier, Gwen,” she told her.

  Gwen sighed. “I know. She’s to come to the shower. I suspect she’s on the road right now.”

  “Now, it’s the bridesmaid’s turn,” Miss Hopkins interrupted. “Let’s get you out of this. You’re on a bit of schedule today, correct?”

  Gwen looked at her in relief. “Yes,” she told Miss Hopkins. “The shower is this afternoon.”

  “Luncheon at the Club,” Audrey offered more information.

  “Lovely,” Miss Hopkins agreed.

  Gwen re-emerged in her day to day clothes. She had put on a fine gauge white sweater dress for the shower. Audrey had urged her to look somewhat bridal for the shower. Miss Hopkins motioned for Sylvia to come to the dressing area. Sylvia brought along the bag with the sandals she and Gwen had picked out months earlier. They were dressy black sandals with a kitten heel. Sylvia emerged a few minutes later in a Dupioni silk dress that was a deep, midnight blue that rippled black as she moved. The dress was strapless and had a tight waist. Sylvia felt as though she could barely breathe and that her breasts were going to pop out of the dress. There was a shrug for this dress was a deep midnight blue with a smattering of crystals that glittered like stars. Miss Hopkins fussed and gave Sylvia a lecture about proper undergarments as well. She measured and pinned where the dress needed to be hemmed and tugged at the top and made some notes. Sylvia stood as patiently as she could. Audrey, Gwen and Claire oohed and ahhed appropriately. Eventually she was released from the dress and she changed back to her regular clothes. She could breathe again, but had to admit that the silk felt lovely on her body.

  Claire insisted on another jolt of coffee. She led them across the street to a small patisserie that sold coffee as well. They all sat sipping their coffees and tea and discussed the dresses.

  “The wedding is outdoors, correct?” Sylvia asked.

  “Yes, an evening, candlelight wedding by the water,” Audrey jumped in. “We’ll take you to the Inn before we go to the club. It will be freezing on the water now, but you’ll get an idea.”

  “It also has a spa,” Claire said. “We should all get pampered before the wedding.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Gwen said. “A facial and a massage that afternoon would be nice. I’ll check into a group rate.”

  “Just for you girls,” Audrey said, “You enjoy.”

  Gwen sighed and looked at her future mother-in-law. “I would love for you to join us,” she told her. “You’ve worked so hard on the wedding; it would be a small thing.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Audrey told Gwen and she put her hand over Gwen’s. “You are very sweet.”

  Sylvia could see that despite Gwen’s concerns, there was real affection between the two. They left the patisserie and drove to the marina where they showed Sylvia the Inn and Spa. Audrey wanted to just drive by, but Claire insisted they get out and walk around the Inn. Outside it was windy. It tugged at their scarves and whooshed up their dresses. Audrey ducked inside, but the girls squealing in the gusts, walked outside where the ceremony would take place. The ground was mushy from the recent snowmelt, so they stayed on the sidewalk and Gwen excitedly told Sylvia how the ceremony would take place. She had, of course, emailed and texted the information prior, but Sylvia could now picture the ceremony. It was lovely indeed. Windblown they reentered the Inn laughing.

  “The weather is changing,” Audrey told them. “Spring is definitely on its way. That’s good. Now girls,” Audrey insisted, “we need to get to the Club and you all need to get your hair under control again.” She corralled them to the car and drove them to the nearby country club.

  They entered what seemed to Sylvia, an abnormally quiet Country Club, but sounds were muffled by the thick, velvet like carpet. A manager of some sort led them to a private room where tables were set with white linen, crystal and china. Midnight blue scarf accents were tied over the chairs and midnight blue napkins accented the white table cloths. It looked crisp and nautical. There was a decorated chair for Gwen to sit and tables for gifts. Sylvia and Claire brought the gifts from the car and started stacking them at the tables. Gwen paced a little nervously.

  “Do you want a drink?” Sylvia asked her friend.

  “Just some water, I think,” Gwen told her. “My throat is dry. Most of the people coming are friends of Frank’s family,” she whispered to Sylvia. “I really don’t know most of them.”

  Guests started to arrive. Most were well coiffed women who were Audrey’s peers. Claire knew others, obviously the daughters of the well-coiffed women. To Sylvia, they looked like perfect debutantes with perfect hair, make-up and manicures. She felt a bit dowdy next to them. She realized after a few minutes, that she was the only darker haired woman in the group. The varying shades of blond glinted in the lighting of the room. Sylvia realized Gwen was one of the blond people. They all seemed to know one another. The blond ladies carried petite plates of small nibbles and chatted. Claire flitted about like a butterfly deciding where to land and Audrey had taken Gwen away from Sylvia’s side to introduce her. Gwen finally broke away and returned to Sylvia. Suddenly her eyes grew wide.

  “Oh, my God!” she groaned to Sylvia. “Look who’s just arrived.”

  Gwen’s mother, in a floaty dress that looked like it came out of 1967 came into the room. She
had a long scarf tied around her head as well. Gwen closed her eyes briefly before she started over to her mother. Audrey made it to her first.

  “Oh, no,” Gwen whispered to Sylvia as she pulled her along.

  They caught up to Audrey and Gwen’s mother just as they were introducing each other.

  “I’m Belinda Thomas,” Gwen’s mother told Audrey in an airy sort of voice, “but, just call me “Be. It reminds me, you know, just to ‘be,’ to live in the moment.”

  “Ah,” Audrey answered shortly. “You can call me Audrey, as in Hepburn,” her voice held a grim edge to it, but her mouth was twitching as if she was trying not to laugh. Be did not catch the joke.

  “This is absolutely lovely,” Be said. “And here’s my little girl,” she said, reaching to hug Gwen as she reached them.

  “Hi, Mom,” Gwen said a bit breathlessly. “You remember Sylvia, don’t you?” her voice had a twinge of desperation to it.

  “Of course, I do,” Be said to Gwen. “It’s lovely to see you again, Sylvia.”

  Be entered the room and heads turned. The sophisticates, young and old held their thoughts close to themselves and Sylvia was glad. She didn’t want malicious gossip about Belinda to be discussed in front of Gwen to ruin the day. The luncheon was served. Sylvia noticed that people were beginning to relax more from chatting, food or the Chablis that was flowing freely. Audrey had strategically placed Be at her table along with Sylvia and Claire. Claire kept the conversation going with Be and kept saying “cool” to this or that. After dessert and coffee had been served, Audrey moved Gwen to the special ‘bride to be’ chair. She handed Sylvia a small notebook and asked her to keep track of gifts and givers. She gave Be the job of artistically placing bows on a circle of cardboard to represent a bouquet. Claire started a party game of giving points for unusual things in their purses. Sylvia was amazed that the ladies enjoyed the game. Audrey handed Gwen the gifts, Gwen opened and Sylvia found it challenging to take the cards and write down the givers and gifts quickly to keep up with Audrey. She began to think that Audrey wanted to call it a day.

  It had been an exhausting afternoon, but a successful one. Assistants from the club carried the gifts to the car. Gwen, almost tearful, bid her mother good bye. Be was on her way to Boston for a conference on chakras. As they drove back to the Beecher home, Sylvia was not sure she wanted to go clubbing that evening. Claire insisted. Sylvia escaped to her room for a bit and lay on the bed for a moment. What seemed to be a moment later, Gwen was shaking her.

  “Syl, are you all right?” Gwen asked. “You’ve been asleep.”

  “Wow,” Sylvia said. “I just laid down for a minute or two.”

  “Your minute turned into two hours,” Gwen laughed.

  “You’re joking,” Sylvia returned.

  “Nope, get up and get ready to party. Claire is chomping at the bit!” Gwen told her.

  “Okay,” Sylvia said. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and went to take a quick shower.

  Claire was impatiently waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Come on, Sylvia,” she insisted. “The limo is here.”

  “Limo?” Sylvia asked, puzzled.

  “Limo,” Claire said. “None of us are going to be designated drivers tonight and we are going to have fun, fun, fun!”

  Gwen looked at Claire and then at Sylvia. “Okay,” she said, “I’m game. It’s one of my last nights out as a single woman.”

  “And it’s one last night before I gain a sister,” Claire told her. “Thank God it’s you. If you knew some of the other dweebs my brother brought home. Oh my God!” she said as she dragged the two of them to the waiting limo.

  Inside the limo was a bottle of champagne. She told the driver which club to go to and popped the cork.

  “To my new sister,” she toasted.

  It was the beginning of a long evening that Sylvia could barely remember in days and weeks to come. Claire had them bar hop from one nightclub to another. She introduced Sylvia to her favorite cocktail “The Blonde Headed Slut” shooter. It was a mixture of Grand Marnier, peach schnapps and pineapple juice. It was sweet and went down easily. Sylvia, who rarely drank anything other than wine or beer, felt tipsy after only a couple of the shooters, but Claire kept bringing them on.

  Her phone rang and Sylvia amazingly heard it through the noise of the club. It was Joe.

  “Hello?” she yelled into the phone. “Joe?”

  “Sylvia!” he shouted into the phone, “where are you?”

  She giggled in her tipsy state, “I’m in Connecticut, at a bachelorette party!” she shouted through the phone. “We’re at a club.”

  She could not hear Joe’s first response. “Where’s Tony?” he asked.

  “Tony?” she said, “Tony?” she shouted again in the phone. She held a finger in her ear to hear him better.

  “Yes!” Joe shouted, “Tony! Do you know where he is?”

  She sobered up a little bit, “Why?” she asked.

  “There are some new developments in the case,” Joe told her. “I can tell you more when you get home or into a quieter area.”

  “Okay,” Sylvia said, sounding a bit petulant.

  “Where’s Tony?” Joe asked again.

  “Oh,” Sylvia said, remembering, “He said he was going to Florida.”

  “Call me when you get home, okay?” Joe asked. And then with concern in his voice he asked her, “You’re not drinking and driving, are you?”

  “No!” she giggled, “Claire has a limo for us!”

  Joe didn’t know who Claire was, but he told her to have a great time, to be safe and to call him as soon as she got back into town. Sylvia giggled again and hung up the phone. She went back to dancing.

  The laughter, the conversation, the drinking and dancing carried the girls through the night. Sylvia barely remembered getting back to the Beecher house. It was three or four a.m. when Sylvia left her clothes in a heap by the side of the bed and crawled under the covers. Once again, it seemed only moments later when she heard a knock at her door. Claire peeked in, looking much too cheerful.

  “A little of the ‘hair of the dog’” she asked mischievously. She placed a small tray with black coffee, two ibuprofen and a bloody Mary on the bedside table.

  “Ugh,” Sylvia groaned. “What time is it?”

  “Just after ten,” Claire told her. “Mother is making brunch.”

  “What?” Sylvia responded. “I never sleep in that late.”

  Claire just laughed, “Do you ever stay out that late?”

  Sylvia shook her head no, but it hurt. The coffee smelled wonderful. She sat up and took a tentative sip.

  “Get a shower and come down soon,” she told Sylvia.

  Claire left, quietly closing the door. Sylvia sat up more in bed. Her mouth felt as though she had been in a desert. She really didn’t want the alcohol, but with her pounding head, she had read that it might help with a hangover. She sipped at it slowly and sipped at the coffee and downed the ibuprofen. She dragged herself out of bed and into the shower.

  Audrey had provided a lovely traditional brunch and Sylvia felt better after sausage and eggs and potatoes. She knew she had to get packed up and head home even though the only thing she wanted to do was to take a nap or lie on a couch. It was mid-afternoon when she left Old Saybrook thanking Audrey and Franklin and giving teary hugs to Claire and Gwen.

  “See you in seven weeks, my friend,” she told Gwen and gave her a huge hug.

  Sylvia wasn’t thrilled to head back on I-95 and through Jersey on a four hour drive, but it was ahead. She picked up a large caffeinated diet soda and headed down the road with the music playing more softly this time. Her head still ached a little. The food had helped. The caffeine had helped, but the headache was still under the surface. This time Sylvia stopped each hour on the ride back to take in breaths of air and to stretch her legs. She was tired and the drive seemed three times longer than the trip to Connecticut two days prior. Twilight, then darkness, fe
ll while she was still in New Jersey. She considered stopping somewhere to eat, but wasn’t hungry after the snacks she picked up on the way. She pressed on to Maryland and to Bayside.

  Chapter 32

  “Living is Easy with eyes closed.”

  - John Lennon

  She had hoped, when she reached home, that Marian and Jon would have left on lights and left Percy home. No lights were visible as she traveled down Bayside Drive and the house was dark. Sylvia parked in the driveway and used her cellphone as a flashlight. When she approached she saw a small pane of glass by the doorknob broken. The door was ajar and everything was dark. Sylvia backed quietly down the steps and went back into her car and closed and locked the door. With shaking hands, she called Joe.

  “Joe?” she asked in a frightened whisper. “Joe?”

  “Sylvia?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone’s broken into my house,” she told him.

  He asked where she was and what she was doing.

  “Don’t move,” he said, “Do not go back to the house. I’ll be there in just a couple of minutes.”

  “Okay,” she said fear on the edge of her voice, “I’ll wait for you.”

  She sat in the dark. She was exhausted and she had to pee. She was starting to get cold, but didn’t want to turn on the car until after Joe arrived. She saw some lights coming down the road towards Bayside and then they disappeared. Two large dark car shapes appeared in the darkness. Officers came out of the cars and started towards the house. Sylvia stayed in her car. Someone was headed over to her. It was Joe. She climbed out of the car and into his arms. He held her for a moment or two until the officers declared her house clear. Lights were turned on and she went in to peruse the damage. Things were a mess. There were cushions off chairs, papers strewn from the desk to the floor in the study, clothing pulled out of drawers.

  “Mostly mischief and mayhem, sir,” an officer told Joe. “Perhaps a computer stolen.”

  “Oh, no,” Sylvia said. “I have my laptop with me. I don’t have much jewelry. I really don’t have a lot.”

  “The television and the old stereo system are still in place sir,” the one officer told Joe.