“Where is Binky? Does anybody know?” asked Honora.
The blonde with the pink glasses shrugged. “When you find out, tell her I’m terribly disappointed. We nearly had to cancel today because she was a no-show. Margrite had to rope in her daughter-in-law so we’d have a fourth.”
Others chimed in, explaining they were shocked—SHOCKED in capital letters—that Binky missed her regular bridge session. As they protested, Honora gave me a look that clearly meant, “I told you something was wrong.”
But one or two women didn’t seem flustered.
“We’re all busy. She probably got her days mixed up,” said a tiny lady in periwinkle blue with bugle beads around the neckline. “The days blend into each other.”
“I invite you all to come visit the store and see what Cara has,” said Honora. “In fact, here are my business cards. I also brought order forms. If you order a room box or a dome scene today, I’ll knock ten percent off the price.”
That got everyone’s attention. I was quickly inundated with questions about pricing, availability, and scheduling. While Martha Gunderson gloried in the spotlight of her friends’ attention, Honora and I talked up her work. After a very draining hour, two servers were directed to carry the room box outside to Martha’s car. The bridge club members went their separate ways.
“My, my,” said Honora, her eyes glittering with joy. “Wasn’t that fun?”
24
“Turn right on Beach Road. Binky’s house is farther south of us, but north of Blowing Rocks. Not far from Greg Norman’s place, the beach house with the statues of lions out front.”
“That’s the place where President Bill Clinton fell and broke his leg?”
“The very one.”
“Got it. Now I’m curious. How did your friend get a name like Binky?”
“It’s short for Bianca, but her younger brother couldn’t say that, so everyone started calling her ‘Binky,’ and it stuck. I’ve known her for forty years now. We used to spend more time together, but I’m ashamed to say I haven’t seen her much lately. Like me, she’s a widow. Binky has a daughter and a son who both live up north. I know she has a grandson who’s attending University of Miami, just like Tommy. I remember that because I ran into her at Publix a few weeks ago. She had her nails painted orange and green, U of M colors.”
“Ugh. I’m thrilled with Tommy’s choice of school, but I’m not going to wear those colors on my fingernails. She sounds like a character.”
“She definitely is that. Very patriotic. As you know, she loves to play bridge. She’s a world traveler. Keen gardener. Lived here forever. Old as mud, like we all are.”
“That reminds me,” I said. “I’d appreciate your keeping this under your hat, but Cooper Rivers dropped by the other day. He says the financial backers behind the Fill Up and Go have decided that Poppy’s too old for the job. What on earth am I going to do to keep him busy?”
“My, my, my.” She shook her head and the loose folds of her neck jiggled.
This was what I had to look forward to. Loose skin. Being put out to pasture. Regular dates with my bridge club. Shoot me now.
“For right now, Poppy has his hands busy, playing nursemaid. Can you believe that Sid’s mother took his computer?”
“Of course I can. You can, too. Amberlee probably sold it. For spite. She is a drug-addicted, avaricious beast.”
“That’s so unlike you!” I blurted out. “You usually have a kind word for everyone.”
“I am only being honest. I have it on good authority that Amberlee is addicted to OxyContin. She was in a car accident a few years ago. Both she and the driver were drunk. I believe her back was injured. Harvey worried about her drug intake, because he knew she was already imbibing too much alcohol. But Amberlee found a pill-pushing doctor, and the rest is history. Lest you get the wrong idea, Amberlee always was a selfish, self-centered little princess. Harvey fell hard for her. He could never admit her faults. Not even to himself. She had him wrapped around her little finger, tighter than a tourniquet on a bleeding stump. She was the worst mistake that Harvey ever made.”
“So you think I should go ahead and ask Sid to report his computer as stolen? You make it sound like you’re sure she isn’t going to give it back.”
“Couldn’t hurt. Sid doesn’t have a relationship with Amberlee. I realize that’s what you’re trying to protect, but you can’t protect something that isn’t there. When a person is toxic, running the other way is an act of self-defense. I bet he’ll never see his computer again.”
A circular drive fronted Binky Rutherford’s house. Clapboard siding ran the length and width of the exterior walls. Up close, small cracks appeared, and the hibiscus needed trimming. All in all, the place was the picture of wealthy nonchalance that comes with being part of the old rich.
In the driveway, a black Audi roadster with tinted windows and what Tommy would call “ghetto wheels” struck the wrong note entirely. Most of the locals drive more sedate vehicles. An orange and green University of Miami sticker was taped crookedly to the back bumper. Maybe the car belonged to Binky’s grandson or a visitor. The car engine pinged as we walked by. Heat roiled off the motor.
“Maybe that explains why Binky didn’t answer you,” I said. “She must have gone for a long drive.”
“That’s not her car, so it has to belong to Evans.”
A small portico sheltered the front door. Honora and I ambled along the paving stone walkway. A hedge of sea island ficus ran along the front of the house, the evergreen leaves a nice contrast to the white siding. Over my left arm, I carried the dry cleaner’s bag with the dress inside. With my right hand, I rang the doorbell.
From the inside came low masculine tones. Short of pressing my ear to the door, I moved as close as I could to listen in.
“Someone is arguing inside,” I reported to Honora.
“Really?” She stared at the Audi. “Cara, freshmen can’t have cars on campus at U of M, can they?”
“Not unless they live off campus, and I think you can only stay off campus if you have family in town. I might be wrong about that. My mother was dying of cancer when Tommy filled out his housing application. A lot of the process flew right past me.”
“I understand.” She folded her hands in front of her in a ladylike gesture. “Sounds like a bit of an argument, doesn’t it?”
The voices grew louder and then softer and then louder again.
Impatiently, I mashed the doorbell once more.
Heavy footsteps on the other side suggested that our presence had been noted, even though the door remained closed.
“Who is it?” a gruff voice demanded.
Honora and I exchanged looks. She shrugged.
I spoke directly to the door. “I’m one of Mrs. Rutherford’s neighbors. With me is Honora McAfee. We’ve come to return something that belongs to Mrs. Rutherford.”
Cautiously, the door opened a crack, but the chain stayed on. “Yes?”
I stared into a faded blue eye. “Hi, are you Binky Rutherford?”
Honora edged me to one side. “Binky, dear, it’s me.”
“Oh, my! Honora!”
“Your friends missed you at bridge. I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Yes, well, I’ve been tied up.”
“Binky, dear, I’m here with my friend, Cara Mia Delgatto. Dick Potter’s granddaughter.”
“Really? That’s wonderful. Cara, is it? Yes, be sure to tell Dick that I’ve been seeing Samuel Morse on the south side of the island. He’ll be thrilled. Samuel Morse is an old, old friend of ours. You will give him that message, won’t you dear?” Her eyes stared at me through the crack with an intensity that seemed electric. “Word for word? It’s important.”
But before I could respond, Honora said, “Was that your grandson who answered the door? Evans? I haven’t seen him in ages.”
My friend acted as if it was perfectly normal to carry on a conversation through a heavy wooden door.
“Yes, you heard Evans. Home for Spring Break at University of Miami. Took all his tests early. What brings you all the way out here?”
“Mrs. Rutherford, I believe I have something of yours. Something that you relinquished by mistake.” I held up the dress, waving it the way a matador flaps his red cape at a bull.
A gnarled hand reached through the crack in the door and pulled the dress inside. But Binky still didn’t ask us to come in. Honora and I exchanged looks, feeling totally awkward. If Binky had thought we were too embarrassed to stick around, she had another think coming.
“Uh, Mrs. Rutherford?” I spoke through the sliver of open space. “I bought this dress from Danielle at Vintage Threads. Honora thinks that this particular dress is really special to you. Is it possible that you handed it to Danielle Cronin by mistake?”
“Just a minute. I need to look it over in the light.” Binky shut the door in our faces.
Honora and I stood there on Binky’s doorstep, blinking at each other in dismay.
“What in the world?” I wondered out loud. “I realize that my neighbors value their privacy, but this is downright rude.”
“I’ve been inside this house a thousand and one times. I can’t imagine what’s going on.”
Masculine voices seeped through the door.
“Maybe it isn’t just her grandson. Maybe she’s got a boyfriend. Maybe we interrupted them while they were canoodling on her sofa.”
“At our age, the comfort of a bed with a nice firm mattress is a necessity. Not a luxury. File that away for future use.”
We were still giggling when the door opened a tiny bit, and my dress reappeared.
25
“Something must be wrong with Binky.” Honora ran her hands up and down the handle of her purse, over and over. “The way she shoved her dress at you and slammed the door in our faces isn’t like her. Not at all.”
“Whatever.” I’d had enough. I didn’t want to give back the dress, but I’d tried to do the right thing—and where had it gotten me? I’d been left standing on a doorstep like an unwanted solicitor. Binky had actually thrust the dress into my face, nearly smacking me in the nose.
Concentrating on the narrow stretch of Beach Road, I said nothing. I wanted to rail against Honora for putting me in such an embarrassing situation.
“Bianca must be in trouble.” Honora’s chin jutted out stubbornly. “Repeating such nonsense about dating Robert Morse.”
“Samuel,” I said. “Robert Morse was an actor. I think.”
“Whatever. That’s not like her.”
“If you say so.” The Lilly Pulitzer dress was still in my possession, resting comfortably on the back seat of my car. I was mightily ticked, but at least I had permission to wear my dress. Honora, however, was anything but comfortable. In fact, she was downright agitated, and her nervousness was getting to me. She was definitely raining on my parade.
I’d paid for the dress. I had forgone the pleasure of wearing it. I had made a trip back to the store to see if there’d been a mistake. I even attempted to return the dress to its original owner. And I’d had the dress shoved in my face. It was mine. End of story.
Except that I hadn’t paid for it. Not yet. I still owed Danielle a check for $100. Minor details.
“I’ll concede to you there might be something wrong with your friend, but maybe it’s a personal matter. Maybe she’s grown tired of this particular dress or it doesn’t fit anymore. Could even be that Binky has a new boyfriend, and he doesn’t like this dress. Any number of reasons. Point being, she gave up this dress for a second time and sent us on our way.”
Honora slammed her palm against my dashboard. “No!”
The car swerved as I reacted in surprise.
“I refuse to accept those explanations. I’ve known Binky all my life. She would never, ever act so rudely to me. Putting aside the matter of the dress, there’s something rotten in Denmark. Cara? Turn here.”
Following her directions, I took a jog off of Beach Road and down a side street bordering the Country Club, of which I am not (nor will ever be) a member.
“Shortcut?” I asked in a hopeful tone, although I doubted that we were taking an alternate route back to the store.
The set of Honora’s jaw had me worried. The narrowing of her eyes made me nervous.
“The Jupiter Island Department of Public Safety is up here on the right. There! That white building. Park your car.”
I do not like being ordered around. I also don’t like wasting my time. A glance at the in-dash clock warned me that the best part of the retail day was slipping away from me. Already I’d devoted too much time to playing weird games with friends.
There’s an odd clannishness to Jupiter Island. People come here to escape the outside world. They enjoy the island’s seclusion. To move here, you must be vetted, or so Poppy tells me. Once you pass the test, you’re part of an exclusive group. But if you are deemed unworthy, a black cashmere sweater might be sent to your home as an anonymous gift. The message is loud and clear: You won’t need a sweater down here, but you certainly will when you go up north. In other words, the sweater is code for “go away.”
Perhaps Honora had overstepped her welcome, and Binky had shooed her away. I could imagine why. If you spent time with Honora, her daughter EveLynn was impossible to avoid. Since she was loud and abrasive, that tended to get old. Maybe Binky had decided to end their friendship. Maybe she was turning over a new leaf and decided to clean her closets and toss out more than a dress or two. Maybe she was cutting ties with old friends. Perhaps Honora and Lilly Pulitzer were no longer of interest to Binky.
Any or all of the above might explain our cool reception.
I gripped the steering wheel harder. “Honora, this is a fool’s errand. We saw your pal. Binky didn’t invite us in. Big deal. Time to back off and call it a day.”
“Park over there. Turn off your engine. You’re coming with me. We’re going to report this to the Director of Public Safety.”
“And tell him what? Hi, I bought a secondhand dress, but Honora thinks I shouldn’t have it, so I tried to return it, but the original owner doesn’t want it and told me so? Or how about this: Guess what? One of my neighbors decided to clean out her closet and doesn’t want unannounced company so there’s got to be a problem? You need to investigate her because everyone here on Jupiter Island is so incredibly friendly and welcoming that there must be a mistake?”
“I said, turn off your engine. Do it!” Honora actually shouted at me.
I did as commanded, but I sure wasn’t happy about it. “Honora, you need to calm down. This can’t be good for your blood pressure.”
Oops.
Her look nearly withered me.
“Just because I’m an old lady doesn’t mean I’m senile. I’ll have you know that I do the New York Times crossword puzzle every Saturday, and that’s the hardest one of the week. I’m smarter than I ever was, and a lot more ‘with it’ than a lot of people half my age. When I say there’s a problem, you need to listen to me. I deserve a little respect, Cara.”
With an indignant nod of her head, she threw open the passenger side door—and hit the police car next to us.
26
“She never!” Skye said. She and MJ had been arguing when I walked through the back door, but they shut up before I heard what the problem was. In fact, if I hadn’t been so eager to tell them about Honora, they might not have been on speaking terms with each other. As it was, they kept glaring at each other with sideways glances.
“She did, too,” I confirmed.
“What did the cops say?” MJ asked. She pointedly turned her body so that her back was to Skye.
“Better yet, how did Honora act after she hit the cop car?” asked Skye.
“I wish I could have seen that,” said MJ, before I could answer. “Usually she’s so prim and proper. Very measured in all she does. Then to whack your door against the door of a cop car? Talk about losing your cool. That’s so not like her.”
I agreed with MJ. Skye nodded, too.
Despite the frosty atmosphere between the two of them, the three of us were enjoying a rare moment of peace. The store was quiet. Sid was sitting at my desk, using my computer.
“By the way, I’m here because I’ve had an upset tummy, so I asked for time off at Pumpernickel’s. I figured we needed to get ready for Valentine’s Day anyway.” Skye continued washing off grapes to feed to Kookie. Ever since that bird joined us, Skye has babied the animal like crazy. In return, Kookie has grown more and more affectionate toward all of us.
“Good thinking. We need to get cracking on that. Changing out the display window was a great start, but we need more holiday-themed merchandise.” I paused to answer my vibrating cell phone.
“I’m gonna come by to get Sid. Young fella needs a nap. Tires out awful easily,” Poppy said.
“See you in a few.”
“Poor Honora,” Skye said as I hung up. “She must have felt like a fool after she hit that other car.”
“She couldn’t look me in the eyes. She complained about a headache so I took her straight home.” I sighed at the memory. “I’m not mad at her, but I wasn’t happy with her either. She just kept yammering on and on, saying she was certain that Binky was in trouble. Honest to Pete. Honora acted like I was questioning her intelligence or doubting her sanity—and I wasn’t. But facts are facts. We had nothing to be suspicious of. Certainly we had no reason to talk to the cops.”
“How’d they respond to having her damage one of their cars?” asked MJ.
“They were surprisingly nice about the whole fiasco. Mr. Fernandez assured me the department cars get dinged all the time. I promised him that Poppy would take a look at the damage and get it repaired. Mr. Fernandez laughed and gave me his business card. He knows Poppy pretty well. In fact, Mr. Fernandez was surprisingly cordial when I asked about my mermaid. I thought he’d tell me to buzz off, because I’m not family, but he seemed to think I had a perfect right to be curious.”
Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books! Page 134
